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Transcriber’s note:
Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
THE AWAKENING OF THE EAST
Siberia—Japan—China
by
PIERRE LEROY-BEAULIEU
With a preface by Henry Norman
Author of
“People and Politics of the Far East,” “The Real Japan,” etc.
New York
McClure, Phillips & CO.
M C M
Copyright, 1900,
By McClure, Phillips & Co.
First Impression, November, 1900
Second Impression, January, 1901
------------------------------------------------------------------------
PREFACE[1]
M. Leroy-Beaulieu’s work appears in English at a singularly appropriate
moment, and I believe that those who know most about the Far East will
be the warmest in its praise. Its personal observations are acute, its
statistics have been conscientiously gathered and carefully collated,
they are scrupulously restricted to the particular matters they are
intended to illuminate, while most valuable of all is the author’s
political sagacity, and the detachment, so to speak, of his attitude as
an observer and investigator. If one may say so without offence, this is
rare in a writer of M. Leroy-Beaulieu’s nationality. A Frenchman is
usually so good a Frenchman that he cannot divest himself, even for an
hour, of the preferences and prejudices of his own land and race. When,
however, you do find a Frenchman who by temperament, research, and
travel has attained to a cosmopolitan impartiality, then nobody dwells
in so cool and clear an atmosphere as he. The present volume, I venture
to say, is an example of this, for if there were no name on the
title-page, and the word ‘we’ were not used of the French people, it
would be impossible to discover the writer’s nationality from his work.
Hypercriticism might perhaps remark that M. Leroy-Beaulieu is just a
little too ready to welcome as fact malicious little anecdotes directed
against ourselves, such as the ingenious fiction that the British
admiral saluted the Japanese admiral’s flag outside Wei-hai-wei before
sunrise in order that the guns should awaken the sleeping Chinese seamen
to a sense of their peril, not to mention his ready acceptance as
typical of the ‘insatiable British public’ of the amusing boast of some
unnamed English newspaper that we might, if it pleased us, build a
railway from the mouth of the Nile to the mouth of the Yang-tsze. But,
on the whole, he probably approaches as near to the ‘impartial
spectator’ of an old-fashioned philosophical hypothesis as it is given
to anybody in this prejudiced world to do; and assuredly the brilliant
ability with which he has analyzed and summarized national and
international situations of the greatest delicacy and complexity speaks
for itself.
Beyond question the future of the Far East is the gravest matter before
the civilized world to-day. For many generations the Eastern Question
caused Sovereigns to turn restlessly in their beds and diplomatists to
start at a footfall; but, as Lord Rosebery was quick to point out, there
arose not long ago a Far Eastern Question much more embarrassing, much
more complicated, much more pregnant with disaster. It presents itself
at this moment under three chief aspects: the approaching completion of
a Russian continuous line of railway from Europe to the China Sea, the
frontier of Korea, and the gates of Peking; the startling entry of Japan
into the comity of peoples as a great naval, military, and civilizing
power; and the course of events which has led to the occupation of the
Chinese capital by the allied forces of eight nations. It is precisely
with these three topics that M. Leroy-Beaulieu deals, and there will be
no need to recommend them to the earnest attention of British readers if
the latter realize—as they should—that behind the third there looms
without doubt the appalling spectre of a European War.
The Trans-Siberian Railway has been greatly hindered by the Chinese
rising in Manchuria. For practical purposes it can hardly be said to
exist beyond Irkutsk, for although the line is completed as far as
Stretensk, there is yet a lack of rolling-stock, and the dreary voyage
by steamers of different draughts down the Shilka and Amur rivers to
Khabarofsk, where the line to Vladivostok is met, deprives the railway
route as yet of all its advantages over the sea-route from Europe. The
last passengers who came from Vladivostok to Moscow before the
interruption of traffic spent thirty-eight days on the journey, and it
will have been noticed that by far the larger part of the reinforcing
Russian troops, horses, and _matériel_ were despatched to the Far East
from Odessa, no small portion in British transports. The Manchurian
section of the great railway has from the first, even in times of peace,
presented great difficulties of climate, lack of supplies, and hostility
of the native population, but now a considerable part of the work
executed has been destroyed, the Russian forces have not yet succeeded
in clearing the country of the Chinese troops and irregulars, a large
garrison will have to be maintained to protect the works in hand, and a
long delay over the original estimated dates of completion is
inevitable. All this, however, is nothing but a question of date. In
national strategic enterprises of this kind Russia works with speed and
tenacity. What has been destroyed will be built more solidly than
before; it is even probable that recent events, as they will undoubtedly
give Russia a freer hand, will enable her to secure a shorter, and
therefore more effective, route from her Siberian line to China. It will
not, in any case, be many years before Port Arthur and Peking will be
within a fortnight’s railway journey of Moscow. Before then that railway
will have developed agricultural and mineral wealth along its route to a
degree undreamed of by those who have not studied its prospects on the
spot, and it will be defended and served by every kind of protective and
paternal legislation. Moreover, when need arises, every mile of the
line, every station and warehouse and water-tank, every station-master,
every engineer, every conductor, every patrolling convict, every
locomotive, every carriage and every waggon, will be placed by a stroke
of the pen at the absolute disposal of the Minister of War, while every
railway in European Russia will be called upon to supply whatever may be
lacking. Russia has one great advantage over other countries in times of
crisis—private interests cease to exist. It must not be forgotten, also,
that the Trans-Siberian Railway is only one of Russia’s great strategic
lines towards the East. Before it is finished, her Trans-Caspian
Railway, which is already not only a military, but positively a
commercial success, will be joined to it, and will have brought the
frontiers of Persia and Afghanistan, and another frontier of China,
within a week of the military centre of European Russia. Whether from
the point of view of intercommunication, of commerce, or of diplomacy
and arms, no single development so significant and so far-reaching in
its consequences has occurred in the modern world.
The second aspect of the Far Eastern Question is at last happily
appreciated by all. The ‘child of the world’s old age,’ Japan, has grown
to manhood. It is exactly eighteen years—the age at which Sovereigns
attain their majority—since Count Inouye first proposed to the sixteen
treaty Powers—including Peru and Hawaii!—that Japan, in return for
certain concessions to foreigners, should be endowed with a measure of
judicial autonomy. Great Britain, to her honour be it ever remembered,
led the way in this, and Japan is now a nation as independent as
ourselves—the first Oriental people to be placed absolutely on a par
with the conquering and jealous West. In no respect has she shown
herself unworthy of the faith placed in her. In art alone has she
retrograded, but that will not be held a special reproach to her by
those among us who look back six centuries for their artistic
inspiration. In finance, in law, in science, in education, in
manufacture, she has already attained a higher level than many so-called
civilized nations, and she is progressing fast. In directions
unfortunately still more calculated to compel the respect of other
peoples—a very powerful army and navy, perfectly equipped, admirably
disciplined, and instinct with the magnificent courage of the old feudal
warriors—her advance has taken the unthinking world by surprise. But for
her prompt and unselfish action in China, and the large force which her
first-rate military system enabled her to despatch without delay, Europe
and America would to-day be mourning the most horrible massacre of
modern history. At this moment Japan and Great Britain are the only
nations striving, and, if necessary, probably ready to fight, to keep
China independent and undivided, open to the trade of all the world on
equal terms, without selfish reservations on the one hand, and without
trembling before party recriminations on the other.
The Far Eastern Question, however, holds the stage at this moment by its
third aspect. China, the eternally unoriginal, has repeated herself once
more, as every student of the Far East has foreseen she would. This time
the repetition is extraordinary exact, as a reviewer of the new edition
of Lord Loch’s ‘Personal Narrative’ of 1860 has just pointed out. ‘It is
impossible,’ he says, ‘to read it without being struck by the
resemblance, down even to details, between the situation in China and
that of exactly forty years ago. Then, as now, a war party led by an
Imperial Prince was in the ascendant; a war was forced on European
Powers by a gross breach of a solemn treaty, two Ambassadors on their
way to Peking being fired on and obliged to return; the armies of those
Powers had to march on the Chinese capital; the Chinese authorities in
the provinces were frantic in their eagerness to negotiate so as to stop
the advance of the allied army on the capital. Li, then only a
provincial Governor, had his little proposals for settling everything to
his own satisfaction. The Emperor had fled from the capital, and the
lady who is now Empress Dowager had fled with him, and in many other
respects history is just now repeating itself with curious fidelity.’[2]
But forty years ago there was no occupation by eight nations, and no
five great Powers endeavouring to checkmate one another’s plans. Indeed,
there was then no Far Eastern Question at all. But though we have
changed, China remains the same. Her rooted hatred of foreigners, her
treachery, her lies, her sickening cruelty, her utter inability to
reform herself, to eradicate corruption, to form an army or a navy—to
be, in a word, a nation—remain precisely as they have always been.
Writers with no first-hand knowledge of China have not unnaturally
fallen into the error of thinking that because small-bore rifles and
Krupp guns have been found in the hands of the Chinese troops, who have
used them with effect in beating back for a time foreign forces,
therefore China has at last laid to heart the lessons of her defeat by
Japan, and has become a military Power to be reckoned.[3] It is a
complete misapprehension. The Boxers fought recklessly, like the
Mahdists, from a belief in their own magical invulnerability; but the
regular troops hardly even attempted to withstand a foreign attack in
anything like equal numbers, except from behind strong walls, and not
always then. Describing the capture without a shot or a blow of several
forts and magnificent guns, that had never been fired since they were
bought, an eye-witness says: ‘Only the most complete demoralization,
utter rout, and headlong flight of the Chinese could explain the
abandonment of such valuable guns, gear, and equipment.’[4]
I dwell upon this point because there is great danger of it being
overlooked at the present crisis—by some from ignorance, by others from
design. As the missionary said to M. Leroy-Beaulieu, ‘Those who most
despair of China are those who know her best’; and the author’s own
conclusion that ‘any reform from the inside is out of the question, no
matter from how high the initiative starts,’ is the conviction of all
students of China, except those who have never been within ten thousand
miles of her coast. This very weakness, coupled with her malleability,
even to the profession of arms—witness the gallant conduct of the
Chinese Regiment from Wei-hai-wei under its British officers—is the
kernel of the danger of the present situation, for the nation that
should be free to organize China would be a menace to the rest of the
world. Those who aim at conquest are therefore playing for a high stake,
and their inspiration is more cogent than that which urges others to the
defence of mere trading opportunities. The course of the coming century
depends upon the result of this trial of statesmanship. Woe betide
England if her leaders fail her now!
HENRY NORMAN.
CONTENTS
PAGE
INTRODUCTION xv
_PART I.—SIBERIA_
CHAPTER
I. THE ORIGINS OF RUSSIAN EXPANSION IN SIBERIA AND THE
NATURAL CHARACTERISTICS OF THE COUNTRY 1
II. THE LAND OF SIBERIA AND ITS INHABITANTS 9
III. AGRICULTURAL SIBERIA AND THE RURAL POPULATION 17
IV. MINERAL RESOURCES AND INDUSTRIES 27
V. SIBERIAN COMMERCE AND THE TRANSPORT OF TEA 31
VI. SIBERIAN TOWNS 38
VII. IMMIGRATION 43
VIII. MEANS OF COMMUNICATION IN SIBERIA 56
IX. THE TRANS-SIBERIAN RAILWAY 64
X. THE RAILWAY THROUGH MANCHURIA 71
XI. THE ALTERED RELATIONS BETWEEN EUROPE AND THE FAR EAST
RESULTING FROM THE TRANS-SIBERIAN RAILWAY 76
_PART II.—JAPAN_
I. THE ORIGIN AND PAST HISTORY OF JAPAN 81
II. JAPAN AND THE REVOLUTION OF 1868 97
III. MODERN JAPAN 110
IV. JAPANESE INDUSTRY 118
V. RURAL JAPAN 125
VI. DEVELOPMENT OF JAPANESE COMMERCE 135
VII. THE FINANCES OF JAPAN 143
VIII. THE DOMESTIC POLITICS AND PARLIAMENT OF JAPAN 154
IX. JAPAN’S FOREIGN POLICY AND HER MILITARY POWER 164
X. THE FUTURE OF WESTERN CIVILIZATION IN JAPAN—RELATIONS
BETWEEN JAPANESE AND FOREIGNERS 171
_PART III.—CHINA_
I. THE CHINESE PROBLEM 183
II. THE CAPITAL OF CHINA 188
III. THE COUNTRY IN THE NEIGHBOURHOOD OF PEKING—NUMEROUS SIGNS
OF THE DECLINE OF THE EMPIRE 198
IV. THE LITERARY AND MANDARIN CLASS—PRINCIPAL CAUSES OF THE
DECADENCE OF THE EMPIRE 204
V. THE CHINESE PEOPLE AND THEIR CHARACTERISTICS 212
VI. FOREIGNERS IN CHINA—THE ATTITUDE OF THE CHINESE TOWARDS
WESTERN CIVILIZATION 228
VII. THE POSITION AND WORK OF FOREIGNERS IN CHINA 234
VIII. CHINA AND THE POWERS 242
IX. RUSSIA, FRANCE, AND ENGLAND IN THE FAR EAST IN 1895–97 253
X. CHINA AND THE POWERS 1897–99—‘SPHERES OF INFLUENCE,’ AND
THE ‘OPEN DOOR’ 266
XI. THE FUTURE OF CHINA—MAINTENANCE OR PARTITION OF THE
CELESTIAL EMPIRE? 276
INTRODUCTION[5]
This book is the result of personal observations made in the course of a
journey through Siberia, China, and Japan, lasting over a year, and is
supplemented by information derived chiefly from official and carefully
collated documents. Asia, the largest of the five Continents, is still
the most densely populated; but after being the cradle of civilization,
it has been for many centuries dead to all progress. It is in the
awakening of this vast Continent through the influx of men and ideas
from the West, by the application of modern science to the exploitation
of its wealth, that consists the phenomenon which we are witnessing at
the present time, and to the examination of which the author devotes the
following pages.
The effect of European action in Asia does not, it is true, date from
our time; it began as soon as the Asiatic invasion of Europe had ceased.
In the sixteenth century, whilst the Russians were settling in Siberia,
we find the Portuguese landing on the coasts of India, China, and Japan.
For a long time, however, the influence of the West was merely
superficial. By the middle of the nineteenth century it had scarcely
reached India and a few points on the coast of Asia Minor; all the rest
of Asia remained obdurate. Siberia was almost a desert, unexplored,
without any communication with the outer world; China a stranger to all
progress; and Japan hermetically sealed. Thus, all the temperate zones
of Asia, those best suited to the white race, as well as those inhabited
by the most numerous, industrious, and vigorous populations, regarded
from whatever point of view, were fifty years ago completely outside of
European influence. At this moment two facts of vital importance have
become prominent, which have been passed over almost unnoticed by
European nations, greatly preoccupied by other questions. In 1854, Japan
began to open her ports to foreigners; and Russia, descending almost
simultaneously from the glacial solitudes of the Okhotsk Sea, seized, at
the expense of China, the banks of the Amur, thus coming into actual
contact with the Celestial Empire, which hitherto she had only reached
through deserts, advanced her frontier up to the boundaries of Korea,
and acquired a port on the Pacific (latitude 43°), free of ice nearly
all the year round. This was the moment when that awakening of Northern
and Eastern Asia began which has become more and more active, especially
during the last ten years.
Immediately after the conquest of the Province of the Amur, Count
Muravief-Amurski, one of the prime movers in the expansion of Russia,
foresaw under what conditions the Muscovite Empire could make its power
felt in the Far East, and suggested the construction of a Trans-Siberian
Railway, which, thirty years later, was undertaken by Alexander III. In
building it, his main idea was to open a strategic route to facilitate
the passage of his troops into China. The Trans-Siberian Railway was
thus constructed far less in the interests of the country it traversed
than for those of the countries at its opposite extremities. But it was
presently discovered that the southern portion of Siberia through which
the line runs possessed a climate scarcely more severe than that of
Manitoba and of the far west of Canada, an equally fertile soil, with
even better irrigation and still greater mineral wealth, the development
of which was only prevented by the complete absence of any means of
communication.
Now Siberia, instead of being shut off from the rest of the world, will
be traversed by one of the most frequented routes in the universe, and
its southern zone will become one of the richest possessions of the
white race. The Russian peasants have a natural tendency to emigrate,
and since the abolition of serfdom have been invading Siberia in great
numbers, and rapidly settling there. More than 200,000 emigrants arrive
there every year, and the births greatly outnumber the deaths, so that
the population of the Asiatic domains of the Tsar is annually increased
by more than 300,000. Russian colonization doubtless has its drawbacks,
the most serious among which are lack of capital and absence of
education and enterprise among the labouring classes. In spite of this,
one fact remains: thanks to the Trans-Siberian Railway, a numerous white
population is already occupying the whole North of Asia, from the Urals
to the Pacific, and thus Russia can meanwhile make the full weight of
her power felt in the Far East, which will certainly prove of
incalculable benefit to the advance of modern civilization throughout
Asia.
While Siberia was being colonized, and the Trans-Siberian Railway was
assuming definite shape, Japan was accomplishing her extraordinary
transformation. In 1854 the Powers, under threat of bombardment, forced
open the gates of this feudal State, whose customs differed from ours
more than those of any other Asiatic country, and the entrance to which
was forbidden to foreigners under pain of death, and which for ten years
was the scene of numerous outrages against them. Forty-five years later
new Japan deals on a footing of equality with the European Powers; its
admission to the number of civilized States is signalized by the
suppression of the extra-territorial privileges of the Europeans, and it
has become a centre of great industry, whose cotton stuffs compete in
China with those of India, America, and Great Britain. European steamers
supply themselves from her coaling-stations; her foreign commerce
amounts annually to £44,000,000 sterling; her soil is intersected by
3,125 miles of railway; a crowd of little steamers, often native built,
ply along her coasts, whilst regular lines of steamers fly her flag in
the ports of Europe, America, and Australia; her fleet is the most
powerful in the Pacific; her army, which crushed China five years ago,
formed the bulk of the international troops that recently marched to the
relief of the foreign Legations threatened by the Chinese. Before these
realities the scepticism of those who have so long jeered at these
Asiatics playing at being Europeans must perforce turn to admiration.
Many people, however, find it difficult to believe in the durability
and the sincerity of Japan’s transformation. Without concealing from
ourselves that the prodigious work which has been accomplished in
Japan has sometimes been premature, that imitation of Europe has
occasionally been pushed to excess, that it has even been directed in
some points where it would have been wiser to have remained faithful
to national traditions, we believe—as one of the best informed
Japanese we have ever met assured us—that the great wind from the West
which is blowing upon this country has come to last. We find this
conviction confirmed both by observation of the Japan of the present
and in the lessons taught by her past. Where the changes have been
carried too far, certain unassimilated and unessential scoriæ will be
eliminated, but the better part of the work will remain and a new
Japan be the result, in many points similar to Europe in the
scientific and material sense of civilization—profoundly modified and
brought nearer to the West, yet differing from us from the social and
moral point of view. In short, we have confidence in the future of
Japan, if she only takes the lessons she has received to heart, and if
she be not over-proud of being the ‘Great Britain of the Far East,’
and is not carried away by a spirit of aggrandizement that may exhaust
her resources. The prudent policy which she appears to have adopted in
the face of the present crisis in China is, however, of a character
well calculated to reassure her friends.
The study of the Chinese problem closes this volume. The Celestial
Empire, so far from being revivified like its neighbours, has resolutely
made no concession to Western civilization. As long as China had only to
trouble over the intermittent and not far-reaching action of Western
Powers, distracted by a thousand other cares, and whose commercial
activity found outlets in other directions, she had not much difficulty
in maintaining her isolation.
From the moment, however, when she found herself face to face with near
and powerful neighbors, rejuvenated nations, from whose eyes her
incurable weaknesses were not screened by the illusion of distance, she
was destined, if she did not yield with a good grace, to be swept along
by the torrent of innovation which she has so long and so vainly sought
to resist. Japan, by her victories in a war which was in reality a war
of Western Science _versus_ Chinese Routine, a war of Progress against
Stagnation, in 1895 forced open the gates of China. If she had not done
so then, undoubtedly Russia would have achieved the same work a few
years later, after the construction of the Trans-Siberian Railway. The
Middle Kingdom no longer frightens the world by its vastness, and those
innovations which it abhors are now thrust upon it by foreigners; thus
has been brought about a situation pregnant with political and
economical consequences still further complicated by the rivalries of
the European nations vying with each other to realize a transformation
from which they hope to reap enormous advantages.
We have also endeavoured in this book to note down the salient features
of the present position, the knowledge of which may serve to throw a
light on the future of the Celestial Empire. Firstly, by recalling the
detestable Government imposed upon China by the all-powerful class of
_literati_, who remain petrified in their stubborn pride, incurable
routinists, and hostile to progress; then, in contrast to the
decrepitude of this Government, the vitality of the people, whose
undeniable defects are compensated by an endurance, perseverance, and
commercial ability of the highest order; the attitude of this people
towards Europeans and their civilization, the part hitherto played by
the latter, their trade in the ports, and the quite recent beginnings of
great industries in these very ports; the concessions for various
undertakings granted during the last four years to these very Europeans
who are at last emerging from the few acres in which they had hitherto
been penned at infrequent points along the coast or on the banks of the
Yang-tsze, and who are abandoning their exclusive devotion to trade in
order to carry out a system of real colonization by applying Western
methods to the realization of the wealth of China; and finally the
disquieting spectacle of the Powers in rivalry around this decrepit
Empire, on which none dare lay a too heavy hand lest it crumble away and
they lose the best pieces, which each of them dreams eventually of
annexing.
Since this book was published in France, in April this year, a
particularly grave crisis has arisen in China. The most violently
reactionary faction in the Court of Peking has seized the reins of power
and has headed a movement for the extermination of the foreigner; the
regular army, making common cause with the fanatical adherents of secret
societies, has besieged in their Legations the Ministers of all the
nations, and has opposed the onward march of the troops despatched to
their relief; hundreds of missionaries and thousands of native
Christians have been butchered throughout the Empire, and everywhere,
even in the Treaty Ports, the security of Europeans has been menaced.
These appalling events have, it would seem, taken Europe quite
unprepared, although warnings were not wanting. A perusal of a file of
the Hong-Kong and Shanghai newspapers will easily prove that great
uneasiness prevailed as far back as last spring, if not in the
Legations, at any rate in the Treaty Ports.
The present crisis will, it is true, not be a matter of much surprise to
those who have studied China. The reader will notice several passages in
this book in which we are reminded of the necessity of proceeding with
the utmost caution in introducing progressive measures into the ancient
Empire, if we wish to avoid an outbreak culminating in a sanguinary
upheaval and the possible collapse of that worm-eaten structure. It
would appear, however, in fact, that during the past three years the
ill-advised action of Europe has done everything to bring about such a
disaster.
Too numerous railway and mining concessions, preliminary works commenced
simultaneously in a great number of localities, without sufficient
regard for the superstitions of the natives, the invasion by foreign
engineers and foremen with overbearing manners, could not but irritate
the Chinese, and prepare the ground for agitators and agents of the
secret societies and (unemployed) literati who swarm everywhere. The
violent action of Germany at Kiao-chau, followed by the seizure of many
points on the coast by the other Powers, readily induced the Court and
literati to believe that the Foreign Powers intended to partition China,
and treat her as a conquered country.
The governing classes among the Chinese have little patriotism, as we
understand it, but they tremble for their salaries and privileges, and,
in common with the populace, they beheld with horror the prospective
violation of their ancient customs. They could not therefore be expected
to repress with any energy disturbances with whose authors they were in
cordial sympathy. Again, the dynasty of foreign origin which reigns in
China is now worn out and tottering; it knows that any concession made
to the foreigner will be turned to its disadvantage, that the best means
of recovering prestige is to pose as the enemy of the Western
civilization; it has even to fear that any great opposition on its part
to popular prejudice may one day lead to its being swept away.
What wonder, then, that under the rule of the old Dowager Empress—an
energetic Sovereign, perhaps, but ignorant, like the harem recluse she
is, and, moreover, passionate, like most women—the Court viewed benignly
the organization known as the _I-ho-chuan_, almost literally, ‘League of
Patriots,’ which we call ‘Boxers,’ who first spread themselves over
Shan-tung, where the foreigners had displayed the greatest brutality and
tactlessness! The creatures of the Empress, narrow-minded and brutal
Manchu princes, mandarins of an ultra-reactionary type, who, having
never been brought into contact with Europeans, are ignorant of the
latter’s strength—all these people whom the Palace revolution in
September, 1898, exalted to power, and who exercise it without control
since the exile of Li Hung-chang to his distant Viceroyalty of Canton,
have not learned how to observe the precautions which at one time guided
that wily old fox.
Imperial edicts have favoured the Boxers, ‘those loyal subjects who
cultivate athletics for the protection of their families, and who bind
together different villages for the purpose of mutual protection.’ In
this association, affiliated with other secret societies, it was sought
to discover a prop for the dynasty both at home and abroad. Arms were
procured from Europe, intended either for the rebels or the regular
army, and then, as always happens with feeble Governments in times of
trouble, it was found impossible to stem the torrent so easily let
loose, and increasing violence soon got the upper hand. The Empress even
appears to have been overwhelmed by factions more reactionary and
fanatical than herself—factions at whose head stands Prince Tuan, father
of the recently adopted heir-presumptive.
Such is the genesis of the present crisis. What are to be the
consequences? They would be very grave if the chiefs of the movement
hostile to foreigners removed the present Emperor to some distant place,
and refused to negotiate on anything like reasonable terms, or if,
leaving him in the hands of the Europeans, they should raise a
competitor against him. The Emperor, whose accession to the Celestial
throne is, in any case, according to Chinese ideas, irregular, and who
has exasperated the mandarins by his attempts at reform, would thus run
a great risk of being considered a usurper, both in the eyes of the
people and the literati. What could the Powers do in such a case? We
hardly dare dream of such a laborious, costly, and deadly undertaking as
would be an expedition five or six hundred miles from the coast into the
heart of a country like China, devoid of good means of transport, and
where a large European army would find existence difficult. Besides, in
the midst of complete anarchy and civil war, the Powers, whose union is
already so unstable, would be forced to interfere, with the risk of
irreparable disputes arising between them all at the finish.
Even if the Court should come to terms and no competition for the Empire
arise, the situation in China will none the less present great
difficulties. The installation in Peking of an Emperor surrounded by
councillors approved by the West and watched by a foreign garrison,
which would be the most desirable end of the present acute crisis, would
not suffice to restore order throughout the Empire. All the elements of
agitation are now at boiling-point, and it is even to be feared that ere
the allies are able to act vigorously on the offensive, the anti-foreign
movement will have gained ground in the provinces. The prestige of the
Manchu dynasty, greatly damaged already, will be still further lowered
when the Emperor is exhibited as the puppet of the West. Ambitious
aspirants of all sorts, Chinese patriots inimical to both Manchu and
foreigner, even legitimate representatives of the ancient Ming Dynasty,
will all of them seek to profit by this state of things, and, fishing in
troubled waters, cause thereby a general recrudescence of insurrection,
fomented by the secret societies. Will the Chinese Government succeed in
repressing them by its own forces? This is not at all certain, and in
that case will Europe charge herself with all the political, military,
and financial risks involved in the exercise of such an avocation and
become the police of China?
It will perhaps be said that if the Manchu Dynasty can no longer
maintain itself, it may be best to leave it to its fate and allow it to
be replaced by another. A new, popular, and strong Government would then
appear upon the scene, which would find it easier to observe the
engagements imposed upon it.[6]
But apart from the fact that this new Government might perhaps be very
hostile to foreigners and difficult to bring to reason, the Manchus are
not yet stripped of all power, and their overthrow would not be effected
without a devastating civil war, lasting probably many years. Europe is
now too much interested in China to encourage such a catastrophe.
On the other hand, nobody desires the partition of the Celestial Empire.
To begin with, the chief eventual rivals are not ready: Russia has not
completed her Trans-Siberian Railway; England is hampered with her
interminable war in South Africa; the United States, with a large
portion of its population opposed to outside extension, insists that no
part of the Middle Kingdom shall be closed to them—in other words, that
it shall not be dismembered; Japan has not completed her armaments; her
finances require careful attention, and she feels, besides, that she
cannot act alone. France has every reason for averting a partition, in
which her share (the provinces adjoining Tongking) would be a very poor
one; and finally, the present insurrectionary movement should prove to
the world—including Germany, who took so indiscreet an initiative at
Kiao-chau—that it would not be easy to govern the Celestials after
European methods, and that the mere task of establishing order in a
large colony carved out of China might be beyond the strength even of
the European Powers.
This being the case, the only policy possible for all countries is to
abandon for the present their personal aims, and to endeavour in unison
to patch up the Manchu system. To depart from this line of action is to
proceed to disaster. But the Powers will have to display some wisdom for
a few years to come if this bolstering process is to have the least
chance of success. The Court and the populace of the capital should be
given a not-easily-forgotten lesson: let the instigators of the proposed
murders of the ministers be delivered up and made to pay for their
cowardly conduct; if necessary, even let their bodies be left unburied,
which, in the eyes of the Chinese, is the most terrible of all
punishments; let the old Empress be exiled if it should appear necessary
to remove her from power. But after all this is done, let the legal
order of succession be respected. While putting pressure on the Court to
appoint moderate or even slightly progressive men to the head of
affairs, avoid a too direct and a too evident interference in the
selection of rulers, which would be perilously inadvisable. On the one
hand, the Powers would soon cease to act in unison, each considering
such and such a grand mandarin more or less its friend and such another
its enemy; and on the other hand, the men chosen would lose all
authority, as they would be looked upon as agents of the foreigners.
Against this, it is absolutely indispensable that Peking and Tien-tsin
should be occupied during several years by a strong garrison, otherwise
it will be said that the foreign soldiery have departed through fear,
and that the permanent fortification of Ta-ku should be forbidden.
These last measures doubtless involve certain inconveniences, granting
the difficulty of maintaining harmony between the various Powers, but if
they should be neglected the lesson would risk being too soon forgotten,
as were those of 1860 and 1894–95; moreover, they would provide a means
of permanent pressure on the Chinese Government.
Nevertheless, if it is important to strike hard at the centre, the more
reason have we to refrain from any act calculated to lower in the
provinces the prestige and the authority of a regime, the sources of
whose weakness are already numerous. The threat of popular risings will
continue one of the serious dangers of the position in the Far East; to
avoid them, we must not seize upon the first incident that arises as a
pretext for demanding concessions, the extortion of which disturbs and
estranges the mandarins, whilst their execution irritates the people. If
we do not accept such a course, we run the risk of creating permanent
anarchy. The surest way of obtaining tranquillity in China would be a
formal, or at any rate a tacit, international understanding binding the
Powers for some years not to support at Peking any demand for a
concession as long as the greater number of railways now under
construction are not completed. That would, moreover, enable European
capitalists, who have not been very eager to take up Chinese loans, to
ascertain the value of their investments in the Middle Kingdom. We
believe that the business and practical sense so highly developed in the
Chinese will induce them to become reconciled to the material side of
our civilization, but by multiplying simultaneously in every direction
preliminary works, say, for railways, we annoy them and wound their
susceptibilities before giving them a chance to appreciate the advantage
of our innovations, not to mention the economical disturbance arising
therefrom.
In conclusion, although patriotism is at a low ebb in the Middle Kingdom
and the military spirit still lower, we might, by worrying the Chinese
too much, end by creating the one and resuscitating the other. In any
case, if the Chinese make bad soldiers—chiefly because they have
detestable officers—they are first-class rioters. Wherefore any idea of
dividing China, either now or at some future time, seems to us
ill-advised. Passing events will have taught a useful lesson, should
they bring Europe to abandon once and for ever this fatal idea. It was
very wisely said in the English Parliament during the present crisis
that ‘China must be governed by the Chinese and for the Chinese,’ which
does not mean that it should be governed against the foreigners. Let us
hope that all Europe will frankly take to heart this sagacious remark.
PIERRE LEROY-BEAULIEU.
THE
AWAKENING OF THE EAST
_PART I.—SIBERIA_
CHAPTER I.
THE ORIGINS OF RUSSIAN EXPANSION IN SIBERIA AND THE NATURAL
CHARACTERISTICS OF THE COUNTRY
Antiquity of Russian expansion in Asia, which is contemporary with
that of Western Europe in the New World—Analogy between the North
of Asia and the North of America—The three natural Zones of
Siberia—Their climate, extent and capabilities—The Polar Zone is
absolutely sterile and uninhabitable—The Forest Zone—The
Meridional Zone, which is both cultivable and colonizable.
No sooner had Russia shaken off the yoke of the Tatars which weighed
upon her for three centuries, and left its mark so deeply impressed as
to be still visible, than, reformed and united, she began to expand
beyond her natural confines. In this she only imitated the example of
Spain, which a short time previously had been delivered from the Moors
and united under the sceptre of Ferdinand and Isabella. Being
essentially a continental country, without easy access to the sea, and
having no difficult frontier to bar her expansion to the East, Russia
turned her attention in that direction, and, defeating her old masters,
annexed the Tatar kingdoms of Kazan and Astrakhan. This conquest
extended her frontier to the immediate neighbourhood of the Ural
Mountains. In the second half of the sixteenth century Tsar Ivan the
Terrible found himself possessor of vast but sparsely-peopled regions,
at a great distance from his capital, and extremely difficult of direct
administration.
It is a remarkable coincidence that under these circumstances an
organization should have been formed in Russia almost spontaneously with
others of the same kind which were to prove of such great utility in the
West—_i.e._, a great colonizing company, under Imperial charter. The
Strogonofs, very rich merchants, who had extended their sphere of
trading operations as far as the basin of the Kama, the great affluent
of the Volga, addressed in 1558 a petition to the Tsar, in which they
demanded a concession of the lands in that region, promising at the same
time, in consideration of the grant, to build a city, develop the
resources, and defend the country against the attacks of savage tribes.
Ivan the Terrible acceded to their request, accorded them divers trading
privileges, and conferred upon them the right to administer justice and
to levy troops. Thus was organized a regular chartered company analogous
with the East India Company and with those more recently formed in South
Africa and on the banks of the Niger. The company in question began the
conquest of Siberia.
The Strogonofs, once established on the Kama, experienced, as generally
happens when a civilized people finds itself in contact with barbarous
tribes, the necessity of extending further eastwards at the expense of
their Tatar neighbours, if only to protect themselves from their
depredations. In 1581 the Tsar gave them permission to employ a
celebrated Cossack pirate, Ermak Timoféef,[7] who seized the city of
Sibir, or Isker, then capital of Khan Kuchun, the principal Tatar chief
of Western Siberia. Six years later the present city of Tobolsk rose on
the site of Sibir.
We will not attempt to narrate the history of the conquest of Siberia,
which strongly resembles the taking of North America by French pioneers
at about the same time. When the Tatar tribes of the West had been
driven towards the Southern Steppes, the Cossacks encountered little
opposition from the poor hunters and fishermen whom they found in the
district. In summer these Cossack adventurers navigated the rivers in
canoes, whilst their winters were spent in block-houses, or _ostrogs_,
surrounded by palisades not unlike the forts erected by the Hudson Bay
Company. Soon they became very numerous, being attracted from the more
civilized parts of Russia by the growing profits of the fur trade. In
1636 they had reached the mouth of the Yenissei, and a year later
arrived on the banks of the Lena. In less than two years—that is, in
1639—they had discovered the shores of the Okhotsk, and fifty years
later the whole continent had been traversed from end to end. In 1648
the Cossack adventurers Alexief and Dezhnief doubled the eastern
extremity of Asia, and arrived at Kamtchatka, and in 1651 the Ataman
Khabarof established himself on the Amur, where he discovered other
adventurers, who had already descended this river in 1643. At this
juncture the Russians found themselves face to face with the Manchus,
who had just conquered China, and notwithstanding the heroic defence of
their fortress at Albazine on two occasions, they were obliged in 1688
to abandon the middle and lower basins of the Amur to the Sons of Heaven
in accordance with the treaty of Nertchinsk, a territory which they only
reconquered from the degenerate Chinese in 1858.
To the west as well as to the east of Siberia the Russian frontiers
remained scarcely altered until about the middle of the present century.
It was only in 1847 that the Tsar’s troops were able to cross the arid
zone of the Kirghiz Steppes. The policy of Peter the Great was directed
towards Europe, and his dream was to extend Russia towards the West by
the conquest of Constantinople—a fact which accounts for the extinction
of zeal on the part of Russia with respect to her Asiatic possessions,
which were now treated merely as penal settlements or as fields for
scientific investigation, whenever the Sovereigns took it into their
heads to become specially interested in such matters. The increase of
Imperial authority and the more regular organization of the State had in
the meantime subdued the adventurous and enterprising spirit of the
Cossacks, and that particular class of men, half soldiers, half
brigands, who had proved themselves such hardy pioneers at an earlier
epoch, now disappeared, and in the middle of the eighteenth century
Siberia was opened as a field of colonization. In spite of the many
obstacles which the system of serfdom in Russia placed in the way of
peasant emigration, in 1851 the population of Siberia had reached
2,400,000, a figure which, although not very large considering the
immensity of the country, was in excess of the population of Canada at
the same period, which numbered only 1,800,000 souls. From this point of
view the Russians had no reason to be ashamed of their colonization,
and, as a matter of fact, have none to-day. According to the census of
January, 1897, there were 5,731,732 Siberians living on a territory of
4,812,800 square miles, whereas in 1891 there were only 4,833,000
Canadians inhabiting the 3,721,800 square miles known as the Dominion.
The density of the population of Northern Asia is not much inferior to
that of British North America, and it must not be forgotten that the
conditions of life in Siberia are greatly inferior to those of Canada.
A comparison of the natural conditions existing in the northern regions
of the old and the new world shows that they are nearly identical. Both
consist for the most part of vast expanses of flat country, often
covered with magnificent forests, and quite as frequently barren.
Siberia, like Canada, is irrigated by noble rivers, which under a milder
climate would constitute a superb network of intercommunication; but
unfortunately both countries are hampered by an extremely rigorous
climate, which imprisons these fine rivers during many months of the
year under an impenetrably thick coating of ice. In the north of Siberia
as well as of Canada the country is so intensely cold as to render
agriculture impossible. That part, therefore, of both countries which is
capable of exploitation is of extremely limited extent, consisting both
in Russian Asia and in British North America of a ribbon-like zone some
3,720 miles in length and from 250 to 300 in width.
If Siberia resembles Canada in some things, it must be confessed that
the latter country has every advantage in point of beauty and position.
In the first place, Siberia is more to the north; that portion which
approaches nearest to the Equator is situated about 43° latitude—that is
to say, a little more to the north than the extreme south of Upper
Canada, and, being on the Pacific, it is most distant from European
Russia, whereas the corresponding part of Canada is the nearest to
England, and washed by the Atlantic, the St. Lawrence, and the great
lakes. On the other hand, that part of Siberia which is closest to
Russia is covered to the south by barren steppes or by mountains which
confine the centres of civilization between 54° and 57° latitude.
Moreover, whereas the coast of Canada on the Pacific enjoys a much
milder climate than the country situated on the other side of the Rocky
Mountains, the regions of Siberia which border the Great Ocean are just
as frigid as the rest of the country. The heights which separate the
basin of the Amur from that of the Lena are not sufficiently elevated to
form a barrier against piercing north winds, and the Japanese
Archipelago interposes itself between the coast and the warm waters of
the Black Current, which plays the same part in the Pacific as the Gulf
Stream in the Atlantic. Thus it happens that the climate of
Trans-Baikalia, where the rivers which, when united, form the Amur take
their source, is one of the most rigorous in Siberia, and the sea is
covered with ice in the port of Vladivostok, which lies in the same
latitude as Marseilles, whereas, opposite on the American coast, seven
degrees northward, the winters of British Columbia are not more severe
than those of Holland or the West of Germany.
Notwithstanding its terrible climate, Siberia is not entirely
uninhabitable; indeed, even on the borders of the Arctic Ocean humanity
is represented by a few aboriginal Polar tribes, who wander from place
to place in sledges drawn by dogs, and usually followed by a numerous
herd of reindeer. The white man, however, cannot endure the conditions
prevailing in the extreme north, and it is therefore necessary with a
view to colonizing that one must learn to distinguish between the
different parts of Siberia.
The country has been judiciously divided into three zones, which are,
proceeding from north to south, the Tundra (or Arctic Moss) Zone, the
Great Forest Zone, and lastly the Agricultural Zone; the south and
south-west of the last-named includes the steppes, as well as the Altai
and Sayan Mountains. It would be impossible to trace a line of exact
demarcation between these different zones, for the transition is
extremely gradual; but, speaking generally, the land situated north of
63° and 64° latitude is barren of all vegetation excepting mosses and
lichens. The subsoil is eternally frozen, but the surface thaws in
summer very slightly, thereby turning the country into one vast marsh.
The rivers remain frozen during nine months of the year. Under these
circumstances, cultivation is out of the question. To the south-western
limit of this zone, at Beriozof on the Obi, the medium temperature all
the year round is 5° C. below zero, and in winter it goes down to 23°.
The average in summer is 13·5°, and that of the hottest month 18°, which
is about the same as the heat in Paris in July; but the warm weather
lasts so short a time as to be useless for agricultural purposes. To the
east the climate becomes rapidly severe, and at Verkhoyansk, a village
situated in the Yakutsk district, latitude 67°, one of the coldest
regions in our hemisphere is reached. The average throughout the year is
17° C. below zero; during the three winter months it is 47°, and in
January 49°. The minimum is about 68° below zero. What characterizes
this dreadful region is that to the extreme cold in winter succeeds a
very short but relatively warm summer. The medium thermometrical reading
during the warm season is 13°, which rises to 15° for the month of July,
during which the mercury sometimes rises to 25° in the shade. The
difference between the temperature of the warmest and the coldest months
of the year is about 64°, that is to say, four times what it is in
Paris. It is very remarkable that in whatever direction you go from
Verkhoyansk, even northward, the climate becomes less rigorous, thanks
to the comparative mildness of the winter. As to the summer, it scarcely
merits the name, falling to 9° and even to 3° C. on the borders of the
Arctic Ocean.
In such unfavourable conditions, it is not surprising that the 1,600,000
square miles which comprise the Tundra Zone only support between 60,000
and 80,000 inhabitants, mostly Samoyeds, Ostiaks, Chuckchis, Lamuts, and
other miserable Arctic tribes, among whom live, or rather vegetate, a
few Russian officials and a fairly numerous group of exiles. The
reindeer, whilst serving as a means of transport, is also used as food,
and its hide furnishes the natives with clothing. There is no other
domestic animal excepting the powerful Polar dog which drags the
sleighs. Whether this part of Siberia will ever become of any ultimate
use is at present hard to say, but we may take it for granted that it
will only be through the discovery of a mineral wealth, the existence of
which is unknown at the present time, that the Polar Zone of Siberia
will ever attract even a temporary settlement of colonists.
To the south of the Tundra begin the Great Forests. At first the trees
are sparse and stunted, and only an experienced botanist can recognise
the distinctive characteristics of the larch; the trees, however, become
loftier as the climate moderates and the summer lengthens. The larches,
firs and pines rise to a great height, and become at last so thick as to
prevent the sun drying the damp soil of the Taiga, or primeval forest.
The banks of the rivers are invariably covered by immense marshes, the
most extensive of which are those to be met with in the neighbourhood of
the Obi and the Irtysh. When the snow begins to melt, the inundations
extend to considerably over six miles on either side of the ill-defined
river-banks. The climate of this region is extremely severe, the winters
frightfully cold, but the summers fairly warm. The frost lasts only
seven instead of eight months; the subsoil, however, is eternally
frozen, and agriculture is only possible in certain spots and demands
constant attention. It is evident, however, that this zone, which covers
about 2,320,000 square miles, that is to say about half Siberia, will
never be able to support a dense population; still, with its great
forests it is much more valuable than the more northern or Polar
regions. If it is possible to prevent these Siberian forests from
undergoing the same process of devastation which has befallen those of
Northern America, they may become of enormous value. Moreover, there
exist in their midst some very important gold-mines, especially near the
Yenissei and in the basin of the Olekma, one of the tributaries of the
Lena, not a few of which are already being satisfactorily exploited.
There is therefore hope that in due time these vast regions now covered
with forests and marshes may be able to support a much larger population
than the actual one, which does not exceed 700,000 souls, mostly
Russians and natives.
If we abstract from the total extent of Siberia the 1,600,000 square
miles of Tundra, and the 2,320,000 square miles of forest land, there
remain nearly 900,000 square miles which form the cultivable zone, the
only one which will ever be capable of supporting anything like a dense
population. This region is not perceptibly distinguishable from that of
the forests by any marked change in the landscape, unless it be to the
west, where the great green trees that usually flourish in milder climes
form an agreeable contrast to the everlasting pines and firs. Then,
again, the presence of cereals is very noticeable, the late summer being
of sufficient length to enable wheat, barley and oats to ripen. So long
as the seed remains under the snow it matters little how intense the
cold may be above; but when once the snow melts it becomes absolutely
necessary for the heat to be sufficiently great during a prolonged
period to enable the grain to germinate, and above all it is necessary
that the autumnal frosts should not occur before the corn has had
sufficient time to ripen. At Nertchinsk in Trans-Baikalia the winter is
often much more rigorous than at Beriozof on the Obi, and yet corn
ripens in the neighbourhood of the first-named town, for the simple
reason that the temperature between May and September, although not many
degrees higher, remains equable much longer. It is rather to the brief
period during which the sun has any power than to the intensity of the
heat or the excess of cold that may be attributed the difficulty of
rendering these extreme northern regions of any agricultural value.
Notwithstanding that the cultivable zone of Siberia is so extremely
limited, it covers an area five times the size of France and equal to
half the cultivable sphere of Russia in Europe, which is also afflicted
with glacial and sterile zones. This more fortunate section of Siberia
may, and doubtless will, offer for a long time to come an admirable
field for Russian emigration.
CHAPTER II
THE LAND OF SIBERIA AND ITS INHABITANTS
Siberia a prolongation of Russia in Europe—Marked resemblance in
scenery and climate between the two countries—Insignificance of
the indigenous population, especially towards the West—Facilities
of colonization—Preponderance of the Russian element in the
agricultural zone—Indigenous elements: Polar tribes diminishing;
Mongol population increasing, but much more slowly than the
Russian—Asiatic immigration to the east of the cultivable
zone—Heterogeneous elements imported from Europe—Jews and
Raskolniks.
After crossing the beautifully wooded valleys and the chain of hills
known as the Ural Mountains, the traveller arrives at Cheliabinsk,
situated in the Great Plain, and can scarcely believe that 1,200 miles
of railway separate him from Moscow, so striking is the resemblance
between the scenery around him and that of Central Russia, notably in
the Governments of Tula and Riazan. In the open spaces rise tufts of
delicate verdure, beyond which, here and there, appear the gray outlines
of some village, consisting of rows of wooden houses surrounded by
fields. The only striking difference between the appearance of this
country and Central Russia consists in the predominance of the birch
between the Ural and the Obi. For nearly 1,200 miles no other tree
shades the absolutely flat country. It is the same with the wild
flowers, among which I noticed the _Kaborski tchaï_, with its long pink
spiral blossoms, which recall those of the digitalis. It is not
surprising that a Russian territory bearing such a singular resemblance
to the mother country should prove attractive to Russian emigrants. The
winter here, however, is undoubtedly both longer and colder; the summer
is a little hotter, and the mosquitoes much more troublesome; but, on
the other hand, land is freer, and the peasant is no longer confined in
the very narrow space granted in the old country to his father at the
time of the emancipation of the serfs, and which, at his death, he has
been obliged to share with his brothers. If one is surprised to notice
during the first few days’ journey by the Trans-Siberian Railway so few
villages, the reason is not far to find. The line passes a little to the
south of the colonized region, and borders the insufficiently-watered
steppes where the Kirghiz graze their cattle. From time to time the
traveller perceives in the plain the circular huts and even the tents of
these nomads, and not unfrequently at the stations he may meet with a
number of them, with their beady black eyes, their yellow complexions,
and their closely-shaven heads contrasting picturesquely with the fair
locks and long yellow beards of the red-shirted Mujiks. A little to the
north, after passing the Obi, the Kirghiz disappear, although the town
of Tomsk still possesses a mosque, said to be the most northern in the
world.
It is estimated that these Tatars do not exceed 90,000. The majority
profess Islamism, whilst a few have been converted to the Orthodox
faith, and a smaller proportion still remain pagans. Only a fraction
dwell in the towns. Besides this Tatar tribe, some 20,000 Mongols,
called Kalmucks, inhabit the Altai Mountains. In the north may still be
found other aborigines of a very inferior type, known as Ostiaks. They
are supposed to be of Finnish origin, and do not exceed 40,000 in
number, and are exclusively engaged in hunting and fishing. It is stated
that at one time they were fairly civilized, but they have been
gradually driven back by the Russians into the Arctic and sterile
regions, and have become decimated by drink and other vices, the
unfortunate result of contact with a superior race. Further north of the
forest-line and the Tundra region wander a few Polar tribes called
Samoyeds, who, owing to the extremely arid nature of the soil and the
rigour of the climate, have never come into contact with European
civilization. There are about 20,000 of them, and owing to the
unfavourable social and climatic conditions under which they exist, it
is not likely that they will increase. The purely Russian population, to
whom the agricultural zone almost exclusively belongs, forms about
nineteen-twentieths of the 3,356,000 inhabitants of Western Siberia,
which itself contains three-fifths of the population of all Siberia.
The richest section of the Government of Tobolsk consists of a narrow
band of land running between the marshes of the northern regions and the
sterile steppes of the southern. At Tomsk this cultivable zone widens
when it passes the Obi, and the character of the scenery changes to
pleasant hills and valleys, in which latter the earth is still
sufficiently thick and rich to entirely cover the rocky formation below.
The leaf-bearing trees are finer, and are interspersed with splendid
specimens of Siberian fir and the extremely picturesque Siberian
cedar-tree. Occasionally these trees group themselves together, and form
a sort of wood or plantation; at other times they grow singly along the
roadside, being thus cultivated in order to supply sleepers for the
railway or as superior fuel. The fields are full of beautiful flowers,
and the general appearance of the country is that of a fine park,
forming a very agreeable contrast to the monotonous Barabinsk Steppe,
with its infrequent and stunted birches. The plateau which stretches
between the two rivers Tom and Chulym, affluents of the Obi, at a height
of between 800 and 900 feet above the level of the plain, is extremely
fertile, the vegetation being most varied, and the whole region is
vastly superior in point of picturesqueness to any hitherto visited. The
valley of the Yenissei, dominated to the east by mountains and traversed
by the magnificent river, is extremely beautiful. The water runs
rapidly, is remarkably clear, and in more than one place the majestic
stream widens to over 1,000 yards.
Once the traveller has passed the Yenissei, he leaves the tedious plains
behind him, and finds himself among pleasant hills and valleys, which
are rapidly becoming highly cultivated. The post-road, which crosses
from the west to the east, from Tiumen, at the foot of the Ural, to
Stretensk on the Amur, sometimes follows the course of the rivers, and
at others rises to a considerable height above them. On either side rise
veritable walls of gigantic Siberian pines, with red trunks, sombre
verdure, interspersed by magnificent larches of a lighter shade of green
and of more regular shape, and by fir-trees and cedars, whose cones
contain those little seeds which the Siberians are so fond of chewing.
On the banks of the more important rivers, and at every ten to twenty
miles’ distance, the traveller now passes numbers of little towns and
villages, surrounded by arable land, which form, however, but very
insignificant oases in the midst of these interminable forests. It is,
however, along this post-road, in the valley of the Yenissei, and on the
banks of two or three other rivers, that almost the entire population of
Central Siberia is concentrated. Here, as elsewhere, the Russian element
predominates; for out of the 570,000 inhabitants of the government of
Yenissei there are not more than 50,000 natives, who, moreover, live
principally in the forests to the north.
The population of the Government of Irkutsk includes about 500,000
inhabitants, of whom 100,000 are Buriats, mostly shepherds and farmers.
They were originally Mongols, and still practise Buddhism, and live
principally on the slopes of the Sayan chain of mountains, which runs
close to the Chinese frontier. To the east of the great Lake Baikal,
which is 440 miles in length by 30 to 60 in width, and which by reason
of its mountainous shores recalls the lakes of Scotland, is a region
that contains the only really beautiful scenery in Siberia. This section
of the country has always entertained close relations with China.
Trans-Baikalia in former times supplied the Emperors at Peking with
their finest game. The whole district of the Verkhne-Udinsk, comprising
the basin of the Selenga, the principal affluent of the Baikal, is
frequently and not inappropriately called Russian Mongolia. On the
summit of the Ahmar Dabam, a chain of mountains which dominates Lake
Baikal, I perceived for the first time a fetish-tree with its branches
bedecked with parti-coloured rags. On the eastern slope I also
discovered a Lamasery. The scantily cultivated plateau to the north,
which is watered by the Vitim, a tributary of the Lena, was, it appears,
not populated at the time of the arrival of the Russians, and even
to-day it only contains a few villages peopled by wretched Mujiks. This
region before the annexation of the right bank and of the lower valley
of the Amur was used as a sort of military encampment. At the present
time it is governed by a military régime, whose administration is
concentrated in the hands of a Governor, invariably a general in the
army. Of the 670,000 inhabitants, one-third are natives, one-third
peasants, or inhabitants of its gloomy little towns, and the other third
consists of Cossacks, who are only distinguishable from the peasants by
wearing a yellow band on their caps and trousers. Instead of paying
taxes, they have to submit to certain military obligations. Although
they are Cossacks by name and by race, they possess none of the
brilliant military qualities which distinguish their European kinsmen.
The two territories annexed by Russia in 1858 at the expense of China,
the Province of the Amur, and the southern portion of the Littoral
Province—the only one which is of the least value—are scarcely
inhabited, and were even less peopled at the time of the arrival of the
Russians, when they possessed not more than 10,000 Manchus, and about as
many natives, engaged in hunting and fishing, and belonging to several
declining tribes. The Manchus have remained and are prospering; the
other tribes are gradually passing away. Some 20,000 or 30,000 Korean
and Chinese emigrants have settled in the neighbourhood of Vladivostok.
The Russian immigration, however, forms at least five-sixths of the
112,000 inhabitants of the Province of the Amur, and more than
two-thirds of the 214,000 of the coast province, of whom 30,000 natives
live in the Arctic regions, where the whites leave them in peace. The
newly-acquired Chinese territory includes at least 140,000 Russians out
of the 175,000 inhabitants. It must, however, be remembered that this
remarkable majority is mainly due to the concentration of troops which
has taken place since the Chino-Japanese War, which so profoundly
modified the political condition of the Far East.
The following table is formed from official sources—chiefly from the
census taken on January 28, 1897, and marks the area and the total
population of the nine Siberian provinces:
──────────────────┬────────────┬────────────┬────────────┬────────────
│ │ │Natives and │ Area of
│ Square │ Total │ other │Agricultural
│ Miles. │Population. │ Asiatics. │Zone, Square
│ │ │ │ Miles.
──────────────────┼────────────┼────────────┼────────────┼────────────
Tobolsk │ 536,600│ 1,438,655│ 180,000│ 270,800
Tomsk │ 328,000│ 1,917,527│ 〃 │ 〃
──────────────────┼────────────┼────────────┼────────────┼────────────
Yenissei │ 987,400│ 567,807│ 45,000│ 193,400
Irkutsk │ 280,800│ 501,237│ 100,000│ 〃
──────────────────┼────────────┼────────────┼────────────┼────────────
Yakutsk │ 1,535,900│ 283,954│ 250,000│
Trans-Baikalia │ 229,800│ 669,721│ 200,000│ 139,200
Amur │ 172,900│ 112,396│ 18,000│ 104,000
──────────────────┼────────────┼────────────┼────────────┼────────────
Littoral │ 741,400│ 214,940│ 70,000│ 147,000
Island of Sakhalin│ 〃 │ 25,495│ 〃 │ 〃
──────────────────┼────────────┼────────────┼────────────┼────────────
Total │ 4,812,800│ 5,731,732│ 863,000│ 854,400
──────────────────┴────────────┴────────────┴────────────┴────────────
The southern agricultural region of Siberia, in contradistinction to the
frozen zone to the north, is mainly inhabited by European settlers. The
proportion of these over the native population is greatest in the west,
and decreases towards the east, where, however, it still remains
superior by about two-thirds, so that we need not hesitate to conclude
that out of the 5,000,000 people living on this long strip of land, more
than four million and a half are of European origin. Nevertheless, it
must not be forgotten that the indigenous Mongol and Turki population,
which is immensely superior to the poor tribes of fishermen and hunters
who wander about the northern zone, does not diminish, but continues to
increase, much less rapidly, however, than the Russians, who are
constantly being reinforced by emigration. Fortunately the feeling
between these two distinct elements is excellent; the Russians, being of
Oriental extraction, do not hold those racial prejudices which are so
marked among the Anglo-Saxons. The religious question, which is of
course an obstacle to any attempt at a fusion between the Orthodox and
the Buddhist population, is also not very intense or intricate. The
Russian is essentially tolerant, in opposition to his Government, which
is the reverse. The Orthodox emigrants have no objection to a Pagoda or
a Lamasery being erected alongside of their own churches and
monasteries. I remember seeing, while travelling, from Cheliabinsk to
Omsk, the Metropolitan of the last-named town, who happened to be in the
train, get out at a certain station to visit a church which was being
built, and to bestow his benediction upon a crowd of Mujiks who had
assembled for the purpose of receiving it. Whilst the ceremony was in
progress, a few feet further on five Tatar travellers had stretched
their carpets, and, with their faces turned Meccawards, were going
through the elaborate gymnastics connected with Mussulman devotion. The
Mujiks, who were crowding forward to kiss their priest’s hand, never
dreamt of disturbing the Mohammedan worshippers, but watched them quite
respectfully. I doubt very much whether in any part of Europe three
centuries ago, when the populace was not more developed in the
intellectual sense than are these poor Mujiks, such a scene of tolerance
could ever have been witnessed. The Russian Government accords the
utmost liberty to its subjects in Asia in matters of religion. The
origin of Russian official intolerance in Europe is in the main purely
political, and if it considers Buddhists and Mussulmans in Siberia less
objectionable than Catholics and Protestants, it is simply because the
followers of these divergent creeds are the representatives of former
and very dangerous enemies, and are, moreover, perpetually endeavouring
to impose their doctrine upon anyone with whom they come into contact.
The Russian colonization of Siberia has been carried out without the aid
of any other European nationality. There are only a few hundred other
Europeans settled in the country, the greater number of whom are French
people. I was much amused at the little station at Sokur, about nine
leagues from the Obi, to find a buffet kept by a Frenchwoman, a peasant
who had married a Bessarabian, and who had only been in Siberia a year,
after having, however, spent several in Southern Russia. Her buffet was
arranged with a greater degree of taste and comfort than those in charge
of the Russians, who, however, keep everything scrupulously neat and
clean. The worthy lady had forgotten her fluent French, but had not yet
acquired fluent Russian. At Tomsk I fell in with another Frenchwoman,
who kept a bookshop, and in nearly all the towns along the great
post-road at Irkutsk, Blagovyeshchensk, Khabarofsk, and Vladivostok, I
found French shopkeepers, some of whom had been thirty years in the
country. They seemed to entertain a distinct preference for photography.
Now that Siberia is at last thrown open to civilization, foreigners
will, of course, become much more numerous, and already many engineers
are to be found in various parts of the mining districts; but for all
this, I do not think that at any period the Russian colony will be
greatly influenced thereby.
We may, therefore, conclude that, from the ethnological point of view,
as well as from the geographical, Siberia is merely a prolongation of
Russian Europe, or of what is known as Greater Russia. It is true that a
few heterogeneous elements exist of the same sort as those to be met
with in Russia itself: Poles and Germans from the Baltic provinces, and
the descendants of exiles, or even exiles themselves; and thus it comes
to pass that in all the larger towns, at Tomsk, Krasnoyarsk and Irkutsk,
Catholic and Lutheran churches abound. On the other hand, there are
synagogues in nearly all the secondary towns. Israel is fully
represented in Siberia, and the little town of Kainsk between the Omsk
and the Obi is popularly known as the Jerusalem of Siberia. There are
also about 100,000 Raskolniks, followers of a reform which took place in
the liturgy of the Orthodox Church in the seventeenth century. This,
however, is, needless to say, a purely Russian contingent. The
Raskolniks exist in every part of Siberia, but in the province of the
Amur they form about a tenth of the population, and are also very
numerous in Trans-Baikalia. They are mainly the descendants of people
belonging to this particular sect, who were originally exiled from
Russia in the eighteenth century. Their chief peculiarity consists in
their love of temperance and horror of every sort of innovation. Nothing
would induce them to take even a cup of coffee or tea. In our time the
members of certain curious sects, that of the Eunuchs, for instance, are
exiled into Siberia, and confined to a village in the territory of the
Yakutsk, in the Tundra Zone. According to the belief of these eccentric
persons, Napoleon I. was a reincarnation of the Messiah, and they
believe he rests in the sleep of death on the shores of Lake Baikal
until a time when an angel shall awaken him and place him at the head of
an amazing host destined to establish the reign of God in all parts of
the world. The Raskolniks, owing to their temperate habits and their
industry, are generally considered to be a very valuable element in the
population of the country.
CHAPTER III
AGRICULTURAL SIBERIA AND THE RURAL POPULATION
Enormous preponderance of the rural and peasant population in
Siberia—Siberian Mujiks—Their rude and primitive manner of
life—Excellent quality of the land, and backward methods of
cultivating it—Mediocre and irregular manner of raising
cereals—The necessity and difficulty of improving agricultural
operations—The absence of large and enterprising ownership in
Siberia a disadvantage.
Siberia resembles Russia not only in the matter of its immensity, its
loneliness, the duration of its winters, monotonous expanse of its
plains and enormous forest lands, but also in the leading
characteristics of its peasantry; but in Asia and Russia these seem
accentuated, possibly by reason of the peculiarity of the surroundings
among which they are compelled to live. Even more than in Russia is this
class of the people essentially rural; the exploitation of the
gold-mines is the only other industry of any importance, and it employs
relatively few people in comparison with its yield.
In Siberia great landlords are conspicuous by their absence. The only
nobles mentioned by the official statistics are a few functionaries
whose lands will be found on the other side of the Ural, and the only
rich people in the country are the merchants residing in the towns, who
occasionally add to their incomes, mainly derived from trade, by a
certain interest in mining speculations. Some of these worthy people
build themselves handsome country houses, but they do not take much
interest in agriculture. A few concessions of land were made in the
middle of the century, but they have long since passed out of the hands
of their original owners into those of the Mujiks, to whom they have
been ‘let,’ but these do not appear to care about their prosperity. All
the rest of the land belongs either to the Government or to small
farmers, who rent it from the Crown.
The Siberian peasant lives exactly as do his brethren in Russia, in
villages or hamlets. Isolated houses are rare, the agglomeration of
dwellings being an absolute necessity of the conditions of that
collective and communal proprietorship which prevails throughout the
Tsar’s dominions. A Siberian village is, therefore, a reproduction of a
Russian village. On either side of the road is a succession of low,
one-story houses built of dark wood, and separated from each other by
yards, at the back of which are the stables. The appearance of these
dwellings is exceedingly dreary, for they are invariably built of rough
wood, blackened by age. Occasionally, however, some few planks are
painted a vivid white. The usual doleful aspect of these villages is
sometimes enlivened, especially in the larger ones, by the presence of a
brick church, with cupolas painted a vivid green. In the hamlets these
chapels are only outwardly distinguished from the rest of the _isbas_ by
an iron cross.
If anything, the general appearance of these Siberian villages is even
more dreary and depressing than that of their counterparts in European
Russia, where the houses are often gaily painted. Here they are built
entirely of unhewn wood, like the log-huts of the Far West. Then, the
few domestic animals to be seen wandering about the roadway are not
reassuring, for the dogs look like wolves, and the enormous black pigs
like wild boars. Nevertheless, I am of opinion that the Siberian peasant
is better off than his Russian brother. His _isbas_ are certainly more
spacious, although, to be sure, six, seven, and even ten, persons are
usually crowded into two or three tiny rooms, the immense stove in the
centre of which, in winter, is usually used as a bedstead by the entire
family, whereby whatever air otherwise might be admitted is hermetically
excluded. For all that, I have never seen in Siberia any of those
miserable hovels to be found in Russia, but undoubtedly the manners and
customs of the Siberian peasants are even more primitive than those of
the Russians. They possess less knowledge of hygiene and cleanliness,
and are absolutely ignorant of everything calculated to render life in
the least degree agreeable or rational. During the six winter months the
Siberian keeps his house rigorously shut, excluding even a breath of
air; in summer he does the same, for the double windows of the two or
three very small sleeping-rooms are never opened on any pretext. These
Siberian peasants are, moreover, astonishingly lazy and apathetic. Their
only pleasure in life consists in dreaming away the time whilst smoking
their pipes, and in drinking _vodka_, not to enliven themselves, but
simply to get dead-drunk. Whilst the men are at the public-house the
women stand by their open doors, listless and gossiping, indolently
watching their fair-haired children, who, with only a red shirt on,
fabricate the time-honoured dirt-pies of universal childhood in the mud
or else roll about in the dust. Work is limited to what is absolutely
indispensable, and the Siberian peasant is much happier doing nothing
than in working to obtain what his fellows in other countries would
consider the necessaries of life, but which he looks upon as ludicrously
superfluous. Every village possesses a herd of cows, which you may watch
in the early morning hours straggling off to the pastures, driven along
by two or three old men or urchins, and although you can always get
excellent milk, butter is very scarce, and cheese unknown. As to a
garden, even for the cultivation of necessary vegetables, I have never
seen one in the hundred villages I have visited, excepting, indeed, in
Trans-Baikalia, where I perceived one or two attached to the _stanitsas_
belonging to some Cossacks. It is not because vegetables will not grow,
but because the peasants will not cultivate them. In the towns in the
Amur district, such as Blagovyeshchensk, Khabarofsk, and a few others,
vegetables are to be obtained, but even these are brought over by the
Chinese from the opposite bank of the river.
In addition to laziness, the Siberian peasant adds the most surprising
obstinacy, which is not precisely a bad quality, when, as in the case of
the English, it serves to increase their dogged activity; but in Siberia
it is simply another incentive to do nothing. Once a Siberian peasant
has made up his mind to play _dolce far niente_, no power, Divine or
human, will induce him to budge. I have often heard Europeans say that
Siberia is the only country where you cannot get work done even for
money; and this is perfectly true, for on certain holidays it matters
little what you may offer, you will not get a coachman to take you a
five-mile drive. The Siberian would rather lose money than earn it
against his will.
If inertia is happiness, then the Siberians must be the happiest people
on earth. They disdain progress and would rather die than better their
condition. Their motto is, ‘What sufficed for our fathers is surely good
enough for us,’ and this is the invariable answer a peasant will give
you if you venture to suggest any sort of change for the better in his
condition. His favourite texts from Holy Scripture are those which
flatter his habit of intellectual stagnation, those which preach
resignation and abstention, but certainly not those which teach action
and effort. ‘He who is contented with little will not be forgotten by
God,’ was the text I once saw stuck up in the waiting-room of one of the
dirtiest stations in Trans-Baikalia. It struck me as being particularly
appropriate, both to the place and the people. The prevailing lack of
energy and perseverance, which has been noticed by travellers in every
part of the Tsar’s Empire, seems to me to be one of the radical
characteristics of the Russian nature. It may possibly derive its origin
from the influences of Tatar blood, which was so largely infused among
the lower classes of Russians from the thirteenth to the sixteenth
century at the time of Tatar domination. Then, again, it must be
remembered that extreme cold, like extreme heat, produces apathy,
especially upon the men, who are thereby condemned to remain for many
months inactive, and whose minds, owing to their excessive ignorance,
are a blank.
Siberian peasants are supremely ignorant. In 1894 the Government of
Tobolsk, the most progressive of any in respect of education, numbered
only 19,100 children frequenting the schools out of a population of
1,400,000 souls. In the towns the proportion of scholars was 4·63 per
100, but in the country districts it did not rise to 1·05. One must not,
however, be too severe on the Siberians for showing so poor an
educational result, for we must not forget the enormous distance between
village and village, and the difficulties of obtaining schoolmasters,
owing mainly to the excessive ignorance in which the lower orders of
Russians are plunged. Notwithstanding the very considerable progress
which has been made in this direction in the last few years, there is
probably no country in the world where reading and writing would be of
greater advantage, for during at least one-half of the year the Siberian
has literally nothing to do but to think, or, better, to dream, his life
away.
Serfdom has never existed in Siberia, which accounts for the Mujiks
having a much more independent air than their brethren in European
Russia. They have, however, in common with these latter, that peculiar
sort of charity which has been well called the ‘pity of the Slav.’ It
is, however, not an active virtue, but a sort of dreamy pitifulness
which induces these poor people to help each other, but does not prevent
them from being exceedingly suspicious of strangers. They will, however,
invariably leave on the sill outside their windows a hunk of bread or a
jug of milk for the benefit of some escaped convict or some wretched
outcast. Unfortunately, however, the extreme ignorance and the innate
laziness of these people prevent their extracting from the soil much
that, at a very small cost of labour, would greatly increase both their
wealth and their comfort.
The soil of Siberia is exceedingly rich. The famous _tchernozium_, or
black earth of Southern Russia, covers a great part of the Meridional
Zone of the provinces of Tobolsk and Tomsk. The upper valleys of the Obi
and the Yenissei, sheltered from the north winds, enjoy a milder climate
than the plains, and are excellent for the growth of all sorts of
cereals. On the borders of the Angara, the great tributary of Lake
Baikal and on that of the Lower Amur, and its tributary rivers and its
affluents, which are marshy, there are enormous tracts of extremely
fertile land, but the methods of cultivation are of the most primitive.
Then, again, the vast majority of the rural population obstinately
refuses to work in the fields. All along the great postal highway, which
stretches from the Ural to the Amur, and beyond to Kiakhta, the manner
in which the peasants earn their living is considerably modified. They
exist by trafficking along this main road, along which pass manufactured
goods imported from Europe, which are forwarded to Central Siberia, the
great caravans of the tea merchants, the gangs of exiles, and lastly the
ordinary travellers. As this road is the only one which goes from west
to east, it is very animated. Even in summer, when the traffic is not so
active—the tea caravans only pass in winter—I have rarely seen fewer
than 100 transports of one sort or another per day. Although every
postmaster is obliged to keep no fewer than forty horses, and each
carriage rarely requires more than three, occasionally it is impossible
to secure a conveyance, and one is obliged to ask the peasants for
assistance, which they are very ready to afford, making you pay from
three to four roubles (six to eight shillings) for a relay of
twenty-five _versts_ (sixteen miles), a sum which, if they see that they
have to deal either with somebody who is in a great hurry, or with a
wealthy traveller, they persistently increase in the most barefaced
manner. In winter the transport of tea also enables them to make
considerable sums of money.
Thus it is that the country folk in these latitudes neglect agriculture,
considering it merely as an accessory. In the neighbourhood of the
villages you will find a few fields and pastures, where the cows,
horses, and sometimes a few black sheep, are sent out to graze under the
care of two or three boys or old men, or sometimes without any shepherd
at all. A wooden barrier prevents their escaping into the neighbouring
forest.
The number of horses in Siberia is very great. In the government of
Tomsk in 1894 there were 1,360,000 horses to a population of only
1,700,000, that is to say, 80 horses per 100 inhabitants. In the
government of the Yenissei the proportion is over 90 per 100
inhabitants, and the same proportion prevails in the government of
Irkutsk. Almost the only other country where there are almost as many
horses as men is, besides Russian Central Asia, the Argentine Republic,
where there are 112 per 100 inhabitants. In the United States there are
but 22, and in France only 7. The proportion of horned cattle is also
very considerable, being about 60 per 100 inhabitants, rising in Eastern
Siberia, in Tobolsk and Tomsk, to 80, whereas in the Yenissei and
Irkutsk districts there are about 3 beasts per family. The greater part
of these are cows. Bullocks are very scarce, not being employed either
for food or burden. It is only along the Kirghiz Steppes, in the country
traversed by the Trans-Siberian railway between the Urals and Omsk, and
the region immediately below this line, that milk is used. The rain
falls in this region very slightly, and the land is not cultivable, but
purely arable, and as the Kirghiz are extremely capable herdsmen, the
results are very satisfactory, and they export their cattle largely into
Russian Europe, and even beyond. I remember coming across a train full
of bullocks which were being conveyed to St. Petersburg, and I know of
at least one large house in Moscow which receives weekly from the little
town of Kurgan, situated on the railway line, many thousands of pounds
of butter, a great part of which is exported thence to Hamburg.
If one wishes to become acquainted with the real Siberian farmers, one
must leave aside the highroads and plunge into the country. True, the
villages become much less numerous, but then they are surrounded by more
extensive fields. In those districts which were first colonized in the
Government of Tobolsk some rather thickly-peopled places are
occasionally to be found, especially in the northern steppe between 55°
and 58° latitude. In the Government of Tomsk a more inhabited region
will likewise be met with to the south of the zone of the immense but
well-wooded marshlands; but in this province, as in that of the
Yenissei, the southern portion, instead of being covered by sterile
steppes, contains the magnificently wooded valleys of the upper Obi, the
Yenissei, and their affluents, which very naturally attract the greater
number of Russian emigrants.
The agricultural resources in the districts of Barnaul, Biisk, Minusinck
and Kansk, are extremely rich, and, besides excellent land, splendid
water, and a relatively mild and agreeable climate, there are a variety
of minerals. More to the east, if we wish to avoid the ever-silent
desert, or the _taiga_, we must, on leaving the highroad, enter some of
the valleys at the foot of the mountains on the Chinese frontier, on the
borders of which the whole population is at present concentrated. The
aspect of this region, however, differs very little from that crossed by
the post-road between Irkutsk to the great prison of Alexandrof, where
we behold fine wheat-fields and herds of cattle wherever there is an
opening in the thick but marshy woodlands. Excepting for the extent of
the cultivated lands which surround them, the appearance of the
villages, however, does not change in the least. There is never a
vestige of a garden or of any sort of verdure near the houses, unless,
indeed, it be a few flowers growing in pots, which are never arranged on
the ledge outside the window, but in the interior, and form, together
with a few icons and the portraits of their Imperial Majesties, the only
attempt at ornamentation indulged in by the inhabitants of these
essentially comfortless and inartistic dwellings.
The only crops of the least value in Siberia are those of the various
cereals, of which about 150,000,000 bushels are harvested, mostly in the
western part of the country, which is not only the most thickly
populated, but also the freest of forests.
The rest of Siberia, that is to say, the provinces watered by the Amur
and the territory of the Irkutsk, which are very thinly peopled, does
not produce a total of more than 5,500,000 bushels. Wheat, generally
sown in spring, and oats form each about 30 per cent. of the total
cereal product of Siberia. The balance is made up of rye, barley and
buckwheat. The arable land has to undergo, especially when first
reclaimed from the steppe, the usual process of preparation, manuring,
etc. The Siberian peasants have not acquired even the most rudimentary
knowledge of agricultural science, and, consequently, often have to
abandon their farms. On the other hand, in certain favourable regions,
in the Governments of Tobolsk and Tomsk, where the earth is
exceptionally rich, the pastures have gone on fairly well for over a
hundred years without any sensible diminution in the excellence of their
grazing properties. However, land is so abundant in Siberia that often
the peasants, when they find after they have reclaimed it that its
productive qualities decrease, rather than be bothered with a repetition
of the processes of manuring, etc., pack up their traps and migrate
elsewhere, literally, to ‘fresh woods and pastures new,’ where probably
the foot of man has never trod.
In Siberia, as stated already, great land-owners are non-existent. The
soil is, therefore, exclusively in the hands of the peasants, but up to
the present the _mir_ collective communal property-ship, as is found
throughout Russia, is quite exceptional, and then only in the more
sparsely peopled parts of the west. Since 1896, however, the Government
has decided to introduce, if not practically, at least theoretically,
the _mir_ principle as it exists in European Russia. Nevertheless, in
Siberia the commune is not supposed to possess property, but simply to
hold it on the principle of usufruct, the whole land belonging to the
Crown. In those parts of the country which are nearly uninhabited the
_zaïmka_ system still holds good, whereby a peasant, although he may be
a resident in a village, is allowed to build himself a hut on the steppe
or in the forest where he passes the summer, and where he can cultivate
and even enclose one or two large fields which are supposed to belong to
him, and which he can sell or give away as he pleases, and which, in
point of fact, he owns by right of being the first occupant; but this
system is only provisional. With the increase of population it gives
place to another, whereby the peasant is not considered an absolute
proprietor, but only for so long as he chooses to cultivate his land
properly. From the moment he ceases to comply with this condition
another man can take his land. Everybody is allowed to cut hay in the
prairies where he likes, and the pastures and woods are common property.
On the other hand, it is forbidden to enclose any forest or
pasture-land.
The climate of Siberia is naturally opposed to the cultivation of
cereals, which have to struggle against droughts, autumnal fogs, and
late and early frosts. During the last ten years some very interesting
meteorological observations have been made at Irkutsk, whereby it has
been discovered that July is the only month in which it never freezes.
Then, again, in the government of Tobolsk, and to the west of that of
Tomsk, in addition to these climatic drawbacks, the crops are often
devastated by myriads of _kobylkas_, a sort of locust or grasshopper
which comes from the Kirghiz Steppes. Under these circumstances,
agriculture in Siberia may well be said to be an even more arduous way
of earning a livelihood than it is in Russia proper. It not unfrequently
happens that the crops fail utterly, and during the last ten years it
has been noticed that these disasters are mainly due to increasing
impoverishment of the soil. The irregular condition of the crops is all
the more disastrous in Siberia because of the lack of means of
communication which impedes the easy transport of corn from one district
to another, and results in enormous fluctuations in prices, that often
spell ruin to the unfortunate peasants. The introduction of the railway
to Irkutsk occasioned a notable reduction in the price of bread in
Eastern Siberia, but, on the other hand, the principal line,
unfortunately, transports agricultural products from Siberia to the
region of the Volga.
But a matter which is even of greater importance than that of
intercommunication are the extremely antiquated methods of cultivation
which the peasants insist upon retaining. In the first place, their
notions of preparing the reclaimed soil for culture are absolutely
barbarous. All they do is to scratch up the immediate surface of the
earth with a sort of plough which dates from the Iron Age, and then sow
their crop. When the field is exhausted, which, not having been properly
manured, it very soon is, it is abandoned for a period of years until it
recovers some of its reproductive qualities. With improved agricultural
implements the earth could be more deeply ploughed, and at a very little
distance beneath the surface it is almost invariably extremely rich. The
question is how to induce the peasants to change methods which have been
handed down to them from their ancestors through the ages. It is of
course much to be regretted that in Siberia there exists no great
land-owners wealthy enough to introduce modern improvements, and thus
teach their humbler neighbours the value of progress by practical
illustration; but until means of communication are facilitated and
improved it will be difficult to induce men of wealth and education to
settle in a country which, however naturally rich it may be, is, to say
the best of it, exceptionally unattractive. Even in Russia, where so
many noblemen, owing to the great losses which they sustained at the
time of the emancipation of the serfs, have abandoned their lands to the
peasants, and have retired to the larger towns, there are yet to be
found men who have had the courage to face reverses, and who have taken
their estates in hand on scientific principles, introducing the latest
improvements in agricultural implements, and thereby have influenced for
the better the peasantry by even inducing some of them to abandon their
primeval methods of agriculture. This desirable state of affairs,
however, cannot exist in Siberia, at least for the present. Then, again,
there is another advantage which would accrue from the presence of rich
land-owners in Siberia, namely, contact with persons of superior
education and culture, which in the end would doubtless affect the
peasantry for the better. In Russia the peasantry form a compact body
which, by reason of its singular position in the social sphere, is
absolutely unable to receive or absorb any influences from the more
educated classes. This is a state of affairs which it is highly
desirable should cease in the Asiatic colonies, where at present it is
even more strongly marked than in Russia itself. The problem of the
future of Siberia is the possibility and feasibility of inducing
important land-owners to settle in the country.
CHAPTER IV
MINERAL RESOURCES AND INDUSTRIES
Importance of the Siberian mines—The gold-mines—Insufficiency of
organization principally due to unfavourable climatic
influences—Railway extension would bring about an increase in the
value of the mining industries—Silver, copper, and iron mines.
However productive Siberia may eventually become, it can never solely
depend for its prosperity upon its agricultural resources. Happily, the
subsoil is richer than the upper crust, on account of the great
abundance of ore of various kinds which it conceals. The gold and silver
mines, however, alone, up to the present, have been worked to any
extent, although a few of the iron mines have been slightly exploited.
Even in the case of gold, however, only the alluvial mines have been
touched in those valleys where gold exists, and nowhere have the rock
veins been opened. More can hardly be expected in a country which is
nearly destitute of the proper means of transport; hence the extreme
difficulty of conveying the necessarily heavy and elaborate machinery
required for the extraction of the gold from the rock. Then, again, the
rock ore is only to be found at great distances from inhabited centres
in unexplored forests and mountainous regions. The diggings, on the
other hand, are much easier, demanding no other implements than a sieve
and a spade. The siftings have been exploited in great numbers from end
to end of Siberia, their takings proving, since 1895, equal to
two-thirds of the gold product of the whole of the Russian Empire, the
fourth largest gold-centre in the world, coming immediately after the
United States, Australia, and the Transvaal. The amount of gold
abstracted from the Siberian mines since 1895 amounts to not less than
£5,000,000, and this figure, high as it is, is, in all probability, much
under the mark, the miners very often retaining a good deal of their
findings for themselves. The Government is the only buyer of Siberian
gold. It has the right to claim on purchasing the gold from the miners
between 15 and 20 per cent. of the ore. This system of taxation is
extremely pernicious, since it tempts the miners, as already stated, to
conceal the real amount of their takings. An increase in the surface tax
would compensate for the suppression of the official claim upon the net
product, and would put an end to a great deal of fraud. I have been
assured that a reform in this sense may soon be expected. The enforced
obligation of selling to the State becomes, in the long-run, exceedingly
irksome to concessionaires, because it forces them to send their gold to
a great distance, to the laboratories at Tomsk and Irkutsk, where the
official agents analyze it to determine its value, whereas, of course,
it would be much simpler to send it direct to Europe, and there sell it
to speculators who would promptly pay the price demanded. Another
drawback in the present system is that the miners have often to wait a
long time for ready cash, which is absolutely necessary to them in their
business. Sometimes the Government keeps them waiting until their gold
has reached St. Petersburg, and they are ultimately obliged to discount
it according to the very high tariff rates prevailing in Siberia. The
transport of the metal to Europe by the State is as expensive as it is
troublesome, since it has to be conveyed to Moscow and St. Petersburg in
charge of a military escort. I have on several occasions seen between
the Yenissei and Lake Baikal carts bringing gold from the mines,
escorted by three or four soldiers ready to fire on the least signs of
possible attack. Another drawback to the Siberian mining industries are
the primitive implements used in abstracting the ore from the soil,
which, as M. Levat, a distinguished engineer, very truly observed to me,
were of a sort that apparently dated from the days of Homer. Under these
circumstances, it is the custom in Siberia to work the surface of the
mine only, and after enough ore has been extracted from it, to abandon
the place entirely.
Owing to the geological formation of the country, the more important
Siberian mines will not be found, as in California, on the mountain
slopes, but at depths covered by marshlands. Their exploitation,
therefore, is much more costly, as it is necessary before commencing
operations to cart away an immense quantity of the upper surface of the
earth. Hence it happens that if a mine is disturbed at the surface, and
then abandoned by the miners, it is, so to speak, spoilt, as any attempt
to work it again in all probability will result in disappointment. For
this reason, many excellent mines in the basin of the Obi and of the
Yenissei have been already exhausted, and the centre of the mining
industry in these regions has been transferred to the banks of the Amur
and the Lena, and this notwithstanding the many difficulties the miners
have to face, as the soil hereabouts is invariably frozen for about
twenty yards in depth, and work can only be pursued for about 120
consecutive days in the year. The miners’ salaries, too, are exceedingly
high. In the diggings at Olekma, an affluent of the Lena, wages are 3s.
4d. per diem, that is to say, double what they are on the Yenissei, and
eight times as much as in the neighbourhood of Semipalatinsk, where the
Kirghiz workmen receive only fivepence. Notable progress, however, has
been made in these regions during the last few years, as the mines are
gradually leaving the hands of adventurers and small associations, to be
concentrated in those of important companies, financed by the richer
Siberian merchants, and even by large Russian firms. The great mining
company of Olekma extracted in 1880 £1,000,000 worth of gold, and
maintained its reputation at £680,000 in 1896, proving this mine to be
one of the richest in the world. With the introduction of proper means
of transport, and, above all, a liberal reform in the legislation,
doubtless the Siberian mines would become infinitely more valuable than
they are at present.
Already European capitalists are paying attention to Asiatic Russia, and
one or two important groups of French mining engineers during the past
three years have been inspecting those parts of the country which are
said to be richest in ore. I was never more surprised than to find on
board a boat on the Amur two English engineers, whose acquaintance I had
made in December, 1895, in the far-away goldfields of the Transvaal. All
that the mines of Siberia need to become of enormous value are
sufficient capital and up-to-date methods of working them. The silver
mines of Nertchinsk, which in old times had an unenviable reputation as
the site of the most terrible Siberian penal settlement, are now of
little value. On the other hand, copper, iron, and coal-beds are
distributed in great abundance in various parts of the country, and seem
to constitute its principal and most permanent source of wealth. The
copper mines have not been exploited at all, but are known to exist in
the Upper Yenissei, in the districts of the Minusinsk, celebrated
throughout Siberia for its agricultural prosperity; others may be
discovered more to the west, on the Irtysh. Iron is found in great
quantity in the western regions, in the Altai Mountains, on the borders
of the Yenissei, and in the valley of the Angara, and to the east in
Trans-Baikalia, where its iron mines have been fairly well exploited,
but hitherto not on any considerable scale. Coal will certainly be found
in considerable abundance in the western plains, and in the last few
years a vast coal area has been found, beginning about 150 miles south
of the Trans-Siberian line near the town of Kuznetsk, and extending to
the Upper Obi. In 1887 a new and still larger field was discovered at
about 80 miles east of Tomsk, and, moreover, close to the railway line.
At the extremity of Siberia, near Vladivostok, and, consequently, close
to the sea, other coal-beds have been opened of late.
Siberian industries are at present very limited, and consist of a few
unimportant distilleries, breweries, brick-kilns, match manufactories,
etc. It is therefore evident that for some long time to come the
inhabitants will be compelled to devote their attention and energies to
the development of the natural products of the soil. All new countries
are forced to do this in the first stages of their civilization, and
since the United States, New Zealand, and Australia failed in
manufactures in their earlier days, Siberia may surely content herself
by following in their wake.
CHAPTER V
SIBERIAN COMMERCE AND THE TRANSPORT OF TEA
Special character of trade in Siberia—Importance of the tea
transport—Kiakhta—The annual arrival of tea at the Irkutsk
Customs-house—Road followed by the tea caravan—Dilatory and
expensive methods of transport—Comparison between the land road
viâ Kiakhta and the sea-route viâ Odessa—Other articles of
commerce, exportation of cereals, etc.
Commerce is much more important in Siberia than either agriculture or
manufacture, and forms the basis of all the great fortunes that have
been made in the country. Siberian commerce is mainly concerned with
transport, and if we except the traffic in gold by the Government, the
only other objects of export are cereals and furs. The importation, on
the other hand, is very limited, consisting merely of manufactured
articles necessary for the material comfort of a very scanty and
primitive population, whose wants are correspondingly few. The commerce
of the country would be infinitesimal were it not that nearly all the
tea consumed in Russia passes through Siberia.[8] Tea in Russia occupies
even a more important position than it does in England. The average
Russian takes between a dozen and fifteen cups per day, and he will not
travel without his tea, tea-pot, and his sugar, and the _samovar_, a
sort of glorified kettle, is never absent from every table in Russia,
and is always full of hot water ready to moisten the leaves of the plant
that comforts but does not intoxicate. The Russians make their infusion
very weak, pouring the boiling water a great many times over the same
leaves. The peasantry, unlike the English of the lower classes, who like
their tea very strong, use the same leaves over and over again until the
decoction ends by being only straw-coloured water. This explains the
fact that whilst the Russians drink three times as much tea as the
English, the quantity of it imported into Russia is at least two-thirds
less than that which China and India send annually to Great Britain.
It was by the overland route that the Russians first came in contact
with the Chinese somewhere towards the end of the seventeenth century,
and their commerce with the Celestial Empire continued until the middle
of the present century exclusively overland. Almost all the tea which
enters Russia has to pass through the town of Kiakhta, about 180 miles
south-east of Irkutsk as the crow flies, but 430 miles by the
postal-road, which is only used during two short periods of the year,
the first in December and the second in spring, when, owing to the
quantity of ice on Lake Baikalia, navigation is impossible. During the
rest of the year the tea is transported across the lake, in winter on
sledges, and in summer by steamers, whereby not less than 93 miles are
gained. Occasionally, as, for instance, on the banks of the Solenga, the
road rises to about 4,000 feet above the level of Lake Baikalia. Here
the scenery becomes extremely fine, and the traveller obtains between
the branches of the magnificent trees glimpses of the beautiful lake far
below, forming a very welcome change to the monotony of the plain in
which the caravans spend the greater part of their journey. Kiakhta
consists of three parts: the town of Troitskosavsk, about two miles
north of the Russo-Chinese Frontier; the town of Kiakhta proper, which
is on the immediate frontier, but on Russian territory; and separated
from the last only by a strip of neutral ground a hundred yards wide is
the Chinese town of Maimatchin. Troitskosavsk is the most important of
the three, and offers an exceedingly agreeable aspect to the traveller
who has been obliged to climb up the reverse side of the steep and
barren hill overlooking the town. The houses lining the road are of
wood, comfortable, and painted a light colour. Even the lateral streets
are well kept, and it is, taking it for all in all, the cleanest town I
have seen in all Siberia. One soon realizes that the tea trade supplies
the whole population with ample means of earning a livelihood, and also
that the wealthy take an interest in their town. On one side of the
road, for instance, is the communal school, built out of funds
originally intended for the erection of barracks, but, soldiers not
being required, the place was converted into a school, munificently
supported by the merchants of the city. The children pay a small
entrance fee. Opposite stands another very large educational
establishment, also supported by voluntary contributions.
The dwellings of the principal tea merchants are situated at
Troitskosavsk, whose population numbers quite 7,000 souls; but it is at
Kiakhta,[9] on the frontier, that the tea-leaves are manipulated. The
two towns are linked by an excellent road, which passes between
desolate-looking sand-hills, sparsely covered with wretched fir-trees.
The blue outline of the mountains of Mongolia closes in the horizon to
the south. The houses of the wealthier inhabitants are painted white, as
is the church, the interior of which is extremely rich with massive
silver candelabras and a gorgeous iconostase. Beyond a group of _isbas_,
where the workmen dwell, and half hidden by the cupolas of the church,
stands the vast but very low one-storied building of the Tea Warehouse.
Such is Kiakhta, through which passes annually into the Russian Empire
from 40,000,000 to 60,000,000 pounds of tea, costing, before the Custom
duties are paid, between £1,500,000 to £2,000,000. The following are the
figures obtained from the tea registers during the last five years,
kindly supplied to me by the authorities at Kiakhta.
─────┬───────────────┬─────────────
Year.│Weight of Tea. │Value of Tea.
─────┼───────────────┼─────────────
1892│42,596,500 lbs.│ £1,672,143
1893│43,123,250 〃 │ 1,659,134
1894│51,086,900 〃 │ 1,932,318
1895│52,439,500 〃 │ 2,043,086
1896│55,369,200 〃 │ 2,128,402
─────┴───────────────┴─────────────
The tea begins to pour into Kiakhta in winter from the month of November
to February. In December it is not at all an uncommon thing to see as
many as 5,000 boxes delivered daily. The total number of boxes of tea
which passed the Customs in 1896 was 412,869.
The tea harvest in China takes place generally in spring, the first
gathering of the leaves occurring in April, the fourth and the last in
June. The latter is compressed into bricks, is of very inferior quality,
and bought only by the poorer people. The great tea-market is Hankow on
the Yang-tsze. All the great Russian houses have representatives who
arrive here annually to purchase, and expedite the tea either by sea,
viâ Odessa, or overland by Kiakhta. We must not, however, imagine that
caravan tea, which the Russians consider to be the finest, is all
carried overland. Far from it, but then the purchasers are not supposed
to know this, as there exists a prejudice to the effect that tea which
travels by water is thereby deteriorated, which is nonsense, since all
tea must perform a journey by water of greater or less length. Even that
which is destined for Kiakhta is sent by boat to Tien-tsin, whence it
has to ascend the Pei-ho on junks, and it is only packed on the camels’
backs at Kalgan, at the foot of the Great Wall. Thence it has to perform
a journey of not less than 900 miles across the desert before it reaches
Urga, the sacred town of Mongolia, which is situated at a distance of
160 miles south of Kiakhta. Transport can only take place in the month
of October, when the roads begin to get hardened by the first frosts,
and the camels have returned from the pasture lands where they pass the
greater part of the summer. These camels are hired from the Mongolians,
and there is great competition among the merchants to secure them, the
Russians endeavouring to obtain the greater number of beasts before
anybody else so as to secure the first crop of tea. A certain quantity
of tea is also brought to Kiakhta on little Mongolian carts, which
invariably return home carrying with them three pieces of wood, an
article which is almost valueless in Siberia, but very dear in China,
where it is resold at a profit.
The camels are unloaded at Kiakhta, and the wicker-boxes or baskets,
each containing from 100 to 160 pounds of tea, are divested of the light
covering of camel’s hair which sufficed to protect them during the
journey across the Desert of Obi, where rain is almost unknown. For the
rest of the journey through Siberia it is necessary to screen them with
a waterproof covering made of camel’s hide, the hair being turned
inwards. Whilst the process of enveloping the boxes is proceeding it is
almost impossible to bear the intolerable stench. The tea, compressed
into bricks, each weighing two pounds and a half, is next sorted,
dusted, and those which have been in any degree damaged are separated
from the rest and sold at a low price. Then the whole of the tea, be it
in leaf or brick, is packed on the sleighs and conveyed, as already
stated, across country, partly by water, partly over the routes already
described. At Irkutsk, however, the Custom-house officers examine a few
of the cases, and stamp the rest with a leaden brand, and the caravan is
allowed to proceed to its destination.
The earlier teas which arrive are conveyed by sledge to Irbit, a town on
the eastern slopes of the Ural, but beyond the confines of Siberia, and
in the Government of Perm. Between February 1st and March 1st Irbit is
the scene of an immense fair, which attracts merchants from all parts of
Siberia. The principal goods dealt in are Chinese tea, furs from the
north and east, and light manufactured articles from Russian Europe. The
total sold in the year 1880 amounted to £5,286,000, which has been
considerably exceeded since.
The principal tea caravans do not arrive in the region of the Obi before
the beginning of April, the sleighs proceeding very slowly, and the
stoppages by the way being frequent. Boats convey the fragrant
merchandise between Tomsk, Tura, and Tiumen, terminal stations on the
Ural Railway, whence they are conveyed to Perm. Here they are shipped up
the river Kama, and finally embarked on the Volga and taken to
Nijni-Novgorod, the chief centre of the tea trade in Russia. Thence the
railways distribute the merchandise over the empire. The results of the
tardier crops arrive at Irkutsk, where they are embarked on the Angara
and conveyed by boat to the meeting of that river with the Yenissei,
where, as it is impossible to ascend the latter, the rudely-constructed
boats in which it has hitherto performed the journey are broken up and
sold for firewood. By this road only 330 miles are performed by land to
Tomsk. Some of the merchants, in order to avoid as much as possible the
overland route, take a much longer one by water viâ Uliasutai, a city in
Western Mongolia on the Upper Yenissei. The above will suffice to give
the reader an idea of some of the exceptional difficulties which the tea
merchants have to encounter in conveying their very perishable freight
across Northern Asia into Russia, the journey taking not less than a
year from the date of the gathering of the leaves. The following
official data, registered in 1893, of the expense incurred in conveying
a single pood, or thirty-six pounds (English), of tea from Han-Keou to
Nijni-Novgorod will suffice to afford a fair notion of the great cost of
transport.
£ _s._ _d._
From Han-Keou to Kiakhta viâ Tien-tsin and Urga 0 15 5
Manipulation at Kiakhta and transport to Irkutsk 0 6 4
From Irkutsk to Nijni (by sledge to Tomsk, water to
Tiumen, railway to Perm, and thence by water) 0 12 9
Insurance from Tien-tsin to Nijni, 2¼ per cent 0 1 10½
Interest on capital 0 3 2
———— ———— ————
Total £1 19 6½
==== ==== ====
On the other hand, the same quantity of tea transported from Hankow to
Nijni, viâ the Suez Canal and Odessa, and thence by train to Nijni,
costs only thirteen shillings. From these facts it can easily be
understood that the great commerce of Kiakhta is purely artificial and
abnormal, and exists simply thanks to the enormous difference between
the Custom-house duties at Odessa and those at Irkutsk. At the former
place the duty is £3 6s. per pood, or thirty-six pounds, for all kinds
of tea, whereas at Kiakhta it is only £2 on leaf tea and 5s. 4d. on
brick. The insignificance of this latter tax is very important, because
brick tea is the only sort which is used in Siberia east of the Volga,
the greater part of the leaf tea being forwarded to Russia. On the other
hand, notwithstanding its many inconveniences, the tea transport across
Russia is a most important factor in Siberian existence, since it
furnishes the means of livelihood to thousands of people living along
the great postal-road, and indeed is a sort of subvention which the
Russian tea-drinkers pay to Siberia, and one which the Government very
wisely keeps up by maintaining the high tariff at Odessa. It is
interesting to follow the increasing value of a pood (thirty-six pounds)
of tea on its way from Irkutsk to Nijni. On entering Siberia at the
former place from China it only costs £2 5s. By this time it is already
paying the cost of its transport from Hankow, the expenses of insurance,
etc., costing about £1 3s., the Custom-house duties amount to about £2,
that is, £3 2s. credit, and the transfer thence to Nijni will add about
thirteen shillings to its value; so that when we take into account an
interest of three shillings on the capital employed we find that a
product which cost less than ten roubles where it grew and where it was
first purchased, by the time it reaches the market costs forty-eight
roubles, nearly five times its original value. On the greater part of
the leaf tea which passes through Odessa, the Russian pays on every
pound of tea at 3s. 2d. he purchases 1s. to the Treasury. The total
amount of Custom-house duties paid on tea at Irkutsk amounted in 1896 to
£1,050,361.
Independently of tea, the land commerce between the Russian Empire and
China is, comparatively speaking, insignificant, and rarely exceeds
£265,000. The principal object of import is Russia leather, and the
chief article from China is a very light but strong sort of silk, much
worn in Siberia during the summer. For the rest, the trade between
Siberia and Russia consists mainly in cereals and flour, but it is
difficult to obtain exact statistics on account of the many lines of
communication which have been recently opened since the introduction of
the railway.
CHAPTER VI
SIBERIAN TOWNS
Scarcity of towns and their slight importance—Their administration
and commerce—Resemblance to the towns in the Russian
provinces—Introduction of telephones and electric
light—Intellectual progress—University at Tomsk—The drama at
Irkutsk—The crisis through which these towns are passing.
The absence of large manufactures doubtless accounts in a measure for
the fact that Siberia, according to the census of 1897, only contains
eleven towns inhabited by over 10,000 souls. Eight of these (including
the two cities of Tomsk and Irkutsk, which have each 50,000 inhabitants)
are situated on the postal-road which passes from the foot of the Ural
to Tiumen, to terminate on the shores of the Pacific at Vladivostok;
Omsk is situated somewhat to the south of the old postal-road, at the
point where the Trans-Siberian Railway crosses the Irtysh; Tobolsk, the
old capital of Siberia, which has greatly declined in our day, is built
at the meeting of the Irtysh and the Tobol, and also close to the
junction of the two great highroads. Barnaoul, on the Upper Obi, is the
only Siberian town of any importance which is not within easy reach of
either the railway or the postal-road, but then it has the advantage of
being situated in the centre of the most highly cultivated part of the
country. There exist, also, a number of other small towns, situated on
the two main arteries and in the more fertile valleys. All of them are
centres for the distribution of manufactured articles imported from
Europe, and also depots whence the products cultivated in their
neighbourhoods are collected and expedited. All these towns are seats
both of administration and commerce, and the local capitals are always,
with the sole exception of Tobolsk, the biggest towns in the district,
and contain the dwellings of the officials and other functionaries,
which add greatly to their handsome appearance. In the region of the
Amur and the Littoral garrisons have been introduced, which lend
considerable animation to the place. At Vladivostok in 1895 the Russian
population consisted of 2,780 civil servants, 189 exiles, 555
functionaries and priests (including their wives and children), and
10,087 officers and soldiers with their families. At Khabarofsk the
official element is still more preponderating. With the exception of
Blagovyeshchensk, situated at the meeting of the Amur and the Zeya,
which owes its prosperity to the neighbouring gold-mines, the towns of
Eastern Siberia are nothing more or less than camps or huge villages
like Chita or Nertchinsk, with very low _isbas_, or wooden houses,
prodigiously broad streets, vast open spaces, the whole dominated
generally by the enormous white mass of some official edifice or other.
In the west, however, between the Ural and Lake Baikal, towns exist in
the European sense of the word. It cannot be said, however, that they
are remarkable for their monumental beauty, but they possess a certain
measure of picturesqueness, and bear a striking resemblance to the
provincial towns of Russia proper, such as Saratof or Samara, or some
quarters of Moscow itself. The houses are nearly all built of black wood
like those peppered all over the country, and are built on either side
of the long streets at a little distance one from another, and rarely,
if ever, embellished by a garden or any attempt at external decoration.
The streets cross each other at right angles, and are made as wide as
possible, on account of the numerous fires, against which every
precaution has to be taken, and people are actually requested not to
smoke on the great wooden bridge which crosses the Angara at Irkutsk. In
certain wealthier quarters of the towns a story is usually added to the
houses, which are painted white, gray, or some other conspicuous colour.
Occasionally one comes across a stone building two or three stories
high, usually either the shop of some rich merchant or official, or else
a museum, hospital, gymnasium, college for boys or school for girls, or
sometimes an immense barracks.
The appearance of these dwellings when grouped together on the
hill-tops, as at Omsk, is agreeable, especially so as they are
interspersed with the bright-coloured cupolas of the churches. As to the
latter, they are innumerable. There is literally one at every corner.
Standing at the centre of the cathedral square at Irkutsk, I was able to
see no less than seven at a glance. They are all exactly alike, usually
painted blue or rose-colour, surmounted by one big cupola, and
surrounded by a lot of smaller ones brightly gilt or silvered, and
produce an excellent effect in the sun or on a clear moonlight night.
Internally they possess all the barbaric splendour of Russian churches,
and are a blaze of gilt icons and crystal chandeliers.
Take them for all in all, Siberian towns are far pleasanter to visit
than one might imagine. The streets, as a rule, possess a wooden
pavement, but after a heavy rain they are very apt to become impassable.
A gentleman at Tomsk once assured me that on one occasion when the snow
melted a bullock was drowned in the surging mass of water rolling past
his door. But, after all, the streets of Chicago and New Orleans are not
very well kept, and where the climatic variations are so extreme, it is
doubtless almost an impossibility to keep the streets in anything like
proper order. Otherwise, the telephone is to be found in all the more
important towns, and when the visitor looks up and sees such an amazing
number of wires stretching across the streets from pole to pole, he
might readily imagine himself in America. The electric light has also
been introduced even at Tomsk and Irkutsk. Means of locomotion have by
no means been neglected, and you can hire a quick-going little Russian
cabriolet for twenty kopecks, or sixpence the fare! What astonishes one
most, however, is that, as in Russia, there is scarcely any movement in
the streets of these towns, notwithstanding that they are centres of a
very active commerce.
Education has made considerable progress in the towns of Siberia, and
the wealthier classes are not behindhand in assisting the Government in
this direction. At Tomsk a University has recently been established in
an immense and very handsome edifice, which contains at present some 500
students. Admission has been wisely rendered much more easy than it is
in Russia, and it is expected that before long a faculty of Law will be
established, in which the students will be able to study the new legal
reforms which Alexander II. introduced some years ago into the judicial
system of Russia. Other professorial chairs will be introduced before
long in addition to that of Medicine, which is already very well
attended. The library contains over 200,000 volumes, the greater part
gifts from private benefactors, and not a few of the rarer editions of
French and English classics must have originally belonged to libraries
dispersed at the time of the French Revolution. A number of comfortable
houses have been built in the park attached to the University (only a
very short time ago virgin forest) for the benefit of students, who can
there receive board and lodging at a very moderate price. In addition to
the University, another huge educational establishment, an Institute of
Technology, is in progress of construction. Tomsk, although it is
somewhat out of the way for commercial purposes, appears to me destined
to become before long the intellectual centre of Siberia.
All the Siberian towns possess a theatre. The one at Tomsk was built by
a rich merchant some years ago, and during the winter months two
permanent troupes give on alternate nights representations of opera and
drama. Troupes of Russian actors occasionally visit Siberia, and I
remember once seeing two artists, who enjoy great popularity at Moscow,
give at Krasnoyarsk a representation in Russian of Shakespeare’s ‘Taming
of the Shrew,’ and on the following evening an excellent performance of
‘Madame Sans-Gêne.’ These plays were attended by large and highly
appreciative audiences. At Irkutsk there is a really magnificent theatre
capable of accommodating a thousand persons, the erection of which cost
not less than £32,000. It was built entirely by public subscription, at
the head of the list being the Governor. The prices of admission
are—stalls 6s. 8d. in the front row; 2s. 2d. in the back seats; 1s. in
the first row of the second gallery, and 6d. in the third. These latter
are the cheapest seats in the house. Unfortunately, of late years, the
wealthier classes show a distinct tendency, thanks to facilities of
travel, to spend their money in Russia, and even in Paris, and the rich
merchants are no longer inclined to dazzle the Siberians by a somewhat
barbaric display of their wealth. At Moscow and Petersburg, doubtless,
they find a greater variety of amusements, and no need, in order to
spend their money, to follow the example of a certain Siberian
millionaire who used to wash his chamber-floor with champagne. Other
times, other manners. If the principals go to St. Petersburg, their
representatives remain behind, and although they are unable to make any
very ostentatious display, nevertheless, they contrive to live
comfortably. The position also of the officials, owing probably to the
increased facilities of communication and the spread of education, has
lost a good deal of its former importance, and governors of provinces,
who were in days of yore kings or demigods, are no longer looked upon
with any sense of awe, everybody being aware that they receive their
daily orders by telegraph from St. Petersburg. Irkutsk, which in former
times was the capital, is now only a large provincial city. The grand
old Siberian hospitality is disappearing rapidly, and there are not
wanting, even in Siberia, old-fashioned people who curse the
Trans-Siberian Railway, which is destined sooner or later to
revolutionize the manners and customs of Northern Asia.
CHAPTER VII
IMMIGRATION
Causes of Russian emigration to Siberia—Its increasing
importance—Absolute necessity for State intervention in the
colonization of Asiatic Russia—Roads followed by the
emigrants—Land concessions—Provinces towards which they direct
themselves—Colonization of the Province of the Amur and the
Littoral—Vladivostok—Chinese, Koreans and Japanese—Exiles and
convicts—Conditions for the development of Siberia—Favourable and
unfavourable elements—Necessity of employing foreign capital.
The immigrants who arrive in Siberia are almost without exception
peasants. According to the census taken last January, there were in
Russian Europe, exclusive of Finland and Poland, whose inhabitants
rarely, if ever, emigrate, only 94,000,000 inhabitants scattered over a
surface of 1,875,000 square miles, that is to say, fifty inhabitants per
square mile. One would imagine, therefore, that there was ample space
for all the subjects of the Tsar in his European territories; but the
great northern Governments of Arkhangelsk, Vologda, and Olonetz, which
occupy over a quarter of this area, and in which agriculture is almost
impossible, do not contain more than 2,000,000 inhabitants in 540,560
square miles. Then, again, a great number of the Governments situated to
the north of Moscow consist of only very inferior marshlands, and are
but poorly populated, and, what is more, seem unlikely ever to improve.
The majority of the inhabitants of the empire are therefore concentrated
in the south, where the population is relatively dense, especially in
the Governments of Kursk, Penza, Tambof, Orel, Voronej, and notably so
in Little Russia, which is all the more remarkable when we consider that
these regions are exclusively agricultural, and that the methods of
farming are still very primitive. Notwithstanding, however, the rapid
development of industry in Russia, many years will pass before these
regions will be capable of supporting a population equal to that of
Central or Western Europe, where the natural conditions are more or less
identical. It is not therefore very surprising that a fraction of the
population of Russia should go in search of better climes, and direct
itself towards Southern Siberia, a more attractive and fertile country
than Northern Russia.
Emigration, it must be borne in mind, is but a small item in the natural
causes of the increase of the Russian population. The annual excess of
births over deaths rises to about 1,500,000 in the whole of the Empire,
and is from 1,100,000 to 1,200,000 in European Russia (Poland and
Finland always excepted). The emigration towards Asia has up to 1895
scarcely exceeded a tenth of this figure, and does not even now reach
more than a fifth or a sixth. According to an official work published at
the end of 1896, the ‘Statesman’s Handbook to Russia,’ we find that
during 1887–95, 94,000 families, forming an aggregate total of 467,000
persons, established themselves in Siberia. The average therefore would
be about 52,000 souls per annum, but the last few years have witnessed a
visible increase. The above figures do not apparently include emigrants
who are destined for Central Asia (general Government of the Steppes and
Turkestan), to which the total rarely exceeds 10,000 per annum.
According to information received direct from Siberia, about 63,000
emigrants arrived in 1894 over the Ural from European Russia. On the
other hand, 3,495 entered Siberia by sea, landing in the great Littoral
Province on the Pacific. Lately the emigration movement has become much
more active, and we should not be far out of our reckoning if we
estimated the number of emigrants into Siberia for the years 1897 and
1898 as about 200,000 for each year. The number of persons who seek
permission to leave Russia for Siberia is becoming greater every year.
Many, however, are discouraged and even refused the necessary papers, so
as to avoid burdening the newly-settled country with a superfluity of
people who generally arrive without a penny in their pockets. It is
natural in a country where the peasantry are still so primitive and
ignorant as in Russia that the Government should closely watch the
movements of emigrants, who might, on finding exaggerated promises and
illusions dispelled, become troublesome and even dangerous. The
following is the manner in which these matters are generally organized
in European Russia. When several families belonging to a _volost_
express a wish to emigrate they are requested to determine in what part
of Siberia they desire to establish themselves. If the applicants are
deemed suitable, two of their number, selected as delegates, visit the
parcel of land which has been allotted to them, and on returning they
are able to inform their friends as to the exact nature of the place to
which they are destined. Formerly, the emigrants were allowed to choose
their own land, which, as they were almost invariably very
inexperienced, was usually quite unsuited to their requirements, and
they either went further afield or, disgusted, returned home. In order,
therefore, to prevent a recurrence of this unsatisfactory state of
affairs, the sensible system of sending on two delegates or pioneers has
been established.
The method selected by emigrants entering Siberia was, until quite
recently, to ascend the Kama, and take the Ural Railway at Perm for
Tiumen; thence, at this terminus, they embarked either on the Tobol, the
Irtysh, or the Obi for Tobolsk, which used to be a great rendezvous for
the emigrants. In 1893 the Siberian Railway had not reached Omsk, and
out of 63,000 emigrants, 56,500 had entered Asia by the Tiumen, and
6,500 only had taken the Trans-Siberian Railway to Kurgan. Among the
first, 36,500 followed the waterway which I have just described, and
20,000 performed the journey in carts. To-day the greater number are
transported by the railway to the station nearest to the town selected
for their future residence, or to the extreme limit of the line, if they
are going farther east. There they are obliged to take the _telega_, a
sort of Russian cart, shaped like a trough, on four wheels. I have often
met on the highroads in Siberia long lines of these carts, each
containing several persons, men, women and children, with their
labouring tools and household belongings. The scene is very picturesque,
especially towards evening, when the worthy folk encamp on the highroad:
the men unsaddling the horses, the women going to the well for water,
and the children playing about, whilst some old man, seated on the
wayside, reads the Bible out aloud to a group of eager listeners.
Sometimes the journey exhausts the resources of the family, and I have
seen in Trans-Baikalia a caravan of Little Russians come to a full-stop
for want of money, and the good people, encamped on the highway, quietly
awaiting the arrival of the district Immigration Agent, to obtain from
him the supplies necessary to enable them to continue the journey.
Emigrants who travel by _telega_ from their old home in Europe to the
new one in Asia often consume as much as a whole year in the journey
from Little Russia to the Amur, albeit the travellers frequently spend
as many as three months at a time working on the railway, in order to
add a little to their scanty supply of cash.
The majority of the emigrants arrive in spring. In the principal towns
on the route refuges have been organized for their shelter. A number of
these are to be found at Cheliabinsk at the foot of the Ural. I visited
that at Kansk, the centre of a much-frequented region in the Government
of Yenissei. Twenty _iourdis_, or enormous huts, built on the model of
those used by the Kirghiz and from ten to twelve feet in diameter and
nine feet in height, with an extinguisher shaped roof covered with
camel’s hide, were here erected for destitute emigrants. A spacious
hospital, kitchens and a Russian bath were at the time nearly completed.
A winter habitation with an immense stove had also been erected, but
there are not many emigrants travelling during the worst months of the
year. All these buildings are of wood, after the fashion of most Russian
houses, and seemed fairly comfortable. Three young women from the town
acted as voluntary nurses attached to the hospital.
Emigrants who come from the same district in European Russia are as a
rule grouped together in the same village, and, as far as possible,
everything is done to prevent the crowding together of people who come
from divergent provinces, which might give rise to trouble. Thus, the
officials always endeavour to avoid mixing the ‘Little Russians’ with
the ‘Great Russians,’ and never to introduce new-comers into villages
already inhabited by old Siberians, who do not look upon emigration in a
very favourable light, for the simple reason that formerly they could
occupy as much land as they liked and redeem as much of it as they
chose, whenever their own fields became exhausted, and they could,
moreover, even tramp off in another direction in quest of better land if
the spirit moved them so to do. The arrival of a great number of new
people has naturally put an end to these irresponsible movements, and
consequently given rise to a great deal of discontent.
The following are a few rules which have been adopted recently for the
formation of fresh settlements, on the _mir_ system of Russian
collective communal proprietorship, which the Government has decided to
introduce into Siberia. Fifteen dessiatines (37 acres) are given
gratuitously to each man, and a sum of 30 roubles (about £3 1s. 8d.)
can, if necessary, be advanced to each family immediately. Formerly it
was necessary to await authorization from the Government at St.
Petersburg, even for this small amount, before it could be paid, but,
now, happily, it has been decided to leave the matter in the hands of
the functionary who is placed at the head of the Immigration Bureau of
the district, whereby a great deal of trouble and misery is avoided.
Other sums of money can be advanced from time to time up to £9 10s. if
the applicant is deemed worthy. Theoretically this money ought to be
repaid at the end of ten years, which, needless to say, it rarely, if
ever, is.
Of the 63,000 persons who arrived in Siberia from over the Ural in 1894,
the majority, 38,000, settled in the Government of Tomsk, 17,000
proceeded to the Amur, 3,800 to the Steppes, 2,100 to the eastern
Governments of Yenissei and Irkutsk, and 2,100 to the Government of
Tobolsk. These figures do not include the 3,495 who entered the Littoral
Province by sea. The region which appears to attract the most emigrants
is that of the Upper Obi and its affluents, including the regions of
Barnaoul, Biisk, and Kuznetsk in the Government of Tomsk. In these
sheltered valleys, which descend from the Altai range, the climate is
relatively mild and the land excellent. After this comes the region of
the Amur, where the emigrants are almost exclusively Little Russians,
who generally established themselves in the region extending along the
Lower Zeya to the east of Blagovyeshchensk and the Bureya. The climate,
however, is much colder than in the Government of Tomsk, and although
the richest part of the Amur has been selected for the principal centre
of colonization, the damp is excessive on account of its proximity to
the great water and to the very thick forests which cover almost the
whole country. The valleys, even on the borders of the Amur and its
affluents, are often inundated, and always marshy, and have, moreover,
up to the present resisted all attempts at cultivation. The plateaux to
the north of the Stanovoi Mountains possess a better kind of soil, and
form a more favourable zone, although even here cereals have a tendency
to produce, much to their detriment, a superabundance of weeds. The
Government, which, for political reasons easily understood, has hitherto
assisted colonization in the basin of the Amur, has refused until quite
lately to extend the movement to the region of the Yenissei, being
possibly under the impression that an excessive scattering of the new
population ought as much as possible to be avoided. Now that a
considerable part of the richer lands of Tomsk is occupied, it has been
deemed advisable to make an advance towards the east; therefore, in 1896
19,000 colonists were settled in the Government of the Yenissei, notably
in the districts of Minusinsk, on the upper river, which enjoys nearly
the same advantages as the Upper Obi, and Kansk more to the east, which
is now the most active centre of settlement. The Government of Irkutsk,
which apparently contains a lesser supply of likely land, will doubtless
attract official attention later on.
Settlers who have been for some considerable time in Siberia appear
generally satisfied with their lot, and although they may not endorse
the optimistic affirmations of the official world, the majority of their
villages appear more prosperous than those they abandoned in Russian
Europe. It could hardly be otherwise if they worked hard, since they are
allotted abundance of good land and a small pecuniary advance to assist
them with preliminary expenses. Nevertheless, a number of them return to
Europe every year. In 1894 as many as 4,500 went back, and, I fancy, if
the truth were known, a great many more. I once asked an official in
charge of the emigrants at Kansk, a very amiable, well-informed man, who
takes a great interest in his duties, why so many of these good people
wanted to go home again. He replied that not a few peasants emigrated
into Siberia under the illusion that they would be much better off, and
not have to work so hard, but when they found that they had to labour as
hard as ever, they soon got tired, packed up their traps, and returned
home. Others complain of the climate, not so much, as we might imagine,
of the winter as of the summer, when the mosquitoes are a perfect
plague. Some suffer from home-sickness, especially the women, who regret
their former surroundings, and who by incessant complaints and
lamentations end by worrying their husbands to return. This, however, is
not peculiar to Siberia or to the Russians, for it has even been noticed
in the United States, where young colonists are often obliged to give up
their farms because their wives find an isolated country life
insupportable.
In the greater part of Siberia the population, as we have already
observed, is exclusively Russian. The native element may almost be
described as non-existent. From the ethnological point of view, the
region from the Obi to the Yenissei is already, and tends to become more
and more so, a prolongation of European Russia. In the government of the
Amur it is, however, otherwise, for the Russians have to face a native
population, and the colonists who have come from the European dominions
of the Tsar find themselves obliged to compete with a rather formidable
Asiatic contingent. On this side the centre of Russian influence is at
Vladivostok, a town which was only founded about forty years ago, but
which the Trans-Siberian line will eventually lift to extreme
importance. The only shadow in the picture is that during three or four
winter months the harbour is covered with ice. The noble bay, which the
English formerly named after Queen Victoria, and which the Russians have
now placed under the patronage of Peter the Great, is one of the most
magnificent in the world, in which the whole Russian fleet could easily
find shelter; but, unfortunately, although it is in the same latitude as
Toulon, it freezes very easily.[10] For this reason Vladivostok may
suffer considerably from the greater attractions of Port Arthur, which
is even better placed at the head of the line of communication towards
the Celestial Empire, and is, moreover, free from ice the whole year
round. Nevertheless, the town will remain the seat of many important
military establishments, which are already in existence, and which it
would be exceedingly expensive, and by no means easy, to remove
elsewhere.
Splendidly situated at the head of a peninsula about twelve miles long,
separating two deep bays, whose shores, however, are absolutely sterile,
Vladivostok faces the principal and the more eastern of the two ports,
which happens, also, to be the safest. The town contains a number of
stone houses several stories high, built on the rather steep sides of
the hills, and presents quite an imposing appearance, especially after
the little wooden-housed towns in the interior of Siberia. Although it
lacks the extraordinary animation of its contemporaries, Vancouver,
Tacoma, and Seattle, for instance, on the other side of the Pacific, its
streets are the liveliest I have seen between Moscow and Nagasaki. It
soon becomes evident that one is in the Far East here. The streets are
crowded with pigtailed Chinese in blue, with Koreans in white, and
Japanese in their national costumes. Among these Asiatics move soldiers
and sailors, so that the European civilian costume is scarcely
represented at all, and the majority of those who do wear it are
Japanese. The day after my arrival happened to be the feast of St.
Alexander Nevsky, one of the great Russian holidays, which coincided
with a Chinese festival, so that the whole place was a blaze of
Celestial bunting, gold-edged yellow triangular shaped flags, emblazoned
with heraldic dragons, far out-numbering those of the Russians. Figures
confirm the impressions of experience, and the following show the manner
in which the population of Vladivostok was subdivided in 1895:
──────────────────────────────────────────────────┬──────┬──────┬──────
│ Men. │Women.│Total.
──────────────────────────────────────────────────┼──────┼──────┼──────
Nobles │ 290│ 228│ 518
Priests and their families │ 19│ 18│ 37
Russian civil population │ 1,691│ 1,089│ 2,780
Soldiers and families │ 9,232│ 855│10,087
Exiles and families │ 117│ 72│ 189
Other Europeans │ 46│ 26│ 72
Japanese │ 676│ 556│ 1,232
Chinese │ 5,580│ 58│ 5,638
Koreans │ 642│ 177│ 819
──────────────────────────────────────────────────┼──────┼──────┼──────
Total │18,293│ 3,079│21,372
──────────────────────────────────────────────────┴──────┴──────┴──────
In 1895 the population had considerably increased, mainly in consequence
of the barracks and of the increase of Russian and Asiatic emigration.
It has been observed that since the Chino-Japanese War the Koreans have
developed a distinct tendency to establish themselves on Russian soil.
As in California and Australia, the Chinese who arrive in Vladivostok do
so without bringing their wives. They are mainly engaged as workmen,
domestic servants, boatmen, etc. When they have amassed a small fortune
they return home. Many of them, indeed, pass the winter in Shan-tung, in
the neighbourhood of Chi-fu, of which latter place they are nearly all
natives. The Japanese are, likewise, engaged in petty trade, and a
considerable number of them are hairdressers. It is also whispered
abroad, and pretty freely, too, that not a few of them are spies. A high
code of morals would condemn the manner in which the majority of the
Japanese here gain their livelihood. As to the Koreans, being very
strong, they are better adapted for hard work, and have supplied a
number of hands on the railway. They are more numerous in the environs
of Vladivostok than in the town itself—and they are highly appreciated
by their employers, the administration affording them small allotments
on account of their industrious and peaceful habits.
It is not only at Vladivostok that the influence of the Far East
appears, but throughout the entire government of the Amur. From the
moment one enters Trans-Baikalia one is brought into immediate contact
with the Mongol tribe of the Buriats. As already stated elsewhere, the
Yellow Race predominates in this region, and throughout Trans-Baikalia
the followers of Buddhism form about a third of the population—in 1895,
190,003 out of 610,604. Advancing towards the East, and leaving aside
the older Russian possessions in order to enter the provinces annexed in
1857, we find that the territory of the Amur contains 21,000 Manchu
Buddhists out of a population of 112,000 according to the census of
1897. These Manchus were about the only occupants of the country at the
time of its annexation, and not a few have remained subjects of the
Chinese Empire. Opposite to Blagovyeshchensk there is a large Chinese
village, whence almost every morning a number of people bring fruit and
vegetables to the Russian town.
In the territory of the Littoral, in that broad zone which extends from
42° to 70° north, it was estimated in 1895 that the Russians exceeded
110,000 in a population of 152,000, the rest being composed of 23,000
natives, 18,000 Chinese, Koreans and Japanese, and about 1,000 Jews.
According to the census taken in 1897, the population has very
considerably increased. It records 214,940 inhabitants, but these have
not been subdivided into classes, and, moreover, the European
immigration has not been very considerable in the last two years. A
curious observation has been made as to the preponderance of the male
sex over the female, there being 147,669 men as against 67,261 women.
The reason for this is not far to seek, and is mainly due to the fact
that the Russian immigrants generally arrive with their families,
whereas the military element, exceeding 40,000 in the Littoral Province,
and the Chinese are not encumbered with women-folk. Khabarofsk,
essentially a garrison town, and the capital of the government, has out
of a population of 14,932 only 3,259 women. Its appearance is,
therefore, quite martial, and its picturesqueness is considerably
improved by the presence of a number of Chinese junks in the harbour,
that, as is the case at Blagovyeshchensk, Sydney and Melbourne, bring
excellent vegetables from the fertile kingdom of the Son of Heaven.
Apart from the troops, the Koreans, the Chinese and the Japanese form at
least a quarter of the population of the Littoral, and, combined with
the natives, reach a total which is only slightly overtopped by the
Russians. There are not wanting those who disapprove of this high
proportion of the Yellow Race in the three territories forming the
Government of the Amur, but without any justifiable reason. The Buriats,
for instance, are by no means a decreasing element in the population,
and the Russians are distinctly prolific, whereas the Chinese
immigration, if it ever takes place on any considerable scale, will have
to cross the Desert of Gobi, an obstacle which will delay it for a long
time to come. In the other two territories, the indigenous population,
mostly fishermen and hunters of a very primitive sort, is undoubtedly
visibly diminishing, excepting in the ice-bound regions of the Okhotsk
and Behring Straits, whither, too, Manchus, Chinese and Koreans are
flocking in considerable numbers. All these Asiatics are hard-working,
live upon less than the Russians, and are much more industrious and
often hire from the European immigrants strips of land which they
cultivate with much better results. The small trade of the towns is
almost entirely in the hands of the Yellow Race. Although the Chinese
immigration is more or less of an ephemeral nature, it is very likely to
become exceedingly numerous, especially in the towns and their suburbs,
and might in the course of time render the competition of the Whites
extremely difficult, and necessitate interference on the part of the
Russian Government to limit the sphere of Chinese labour. In any case,
it is quite certain that if Manchuria, as a consequence of the
introduction of the railway, ever comes under the dominion of the Tsar,
it is highly improbable that its so doing will increase the immigration
of the Russians, mainly on account of the surprising activity of the
Chinese in colonizing this part of their empire. At the present time the
Government is more preoccupied with the European than with the Asiatic
immigration, and, whereas it never refuses a grant of land to the
Koreans, it very frequently does so to the Europeans, excepting by
special and exceptional favour. I am obliged to admit that the
Government has, as a rule, been very indulgent towards the French,
several of whom have obtained grants at Blagovyeshchensk, although a
refusal was given to a Frenchman to buy land notwithstanding that he had
lived in the country for over thirty years. As to the gold mines, their
exploitation is only granted to Russian subjects. The whole country east
of Baikalia, that is to say, the Government of the Amur, is at present
freed from paying Customs duties, excepting on spirits, tobacco, sugar
and other articles which in Russia pay excise duty. This part of Siberia
is never likely to become attractive to Europeans of other nationality
than the Russians. On the other hand, undoubtedly, in the course of
time, European capital will be much employed in this part, and some
enterprising merchants and engineers may even eventually establish
themselves in the country, which will surely prove to its interest, and
not to its detriment.
Independently of voluntary immigrants, Siberia used to receive annually
a great number of political and other exiles and convicts. By a _ukaz_,
issued in 1899, Tsar Nicholas II. put a stop to the old and cruel system
of exiling suspects and convicts into Siberia,[11] which ought
undoubtedly to result in much good; for when a country begins to be
thickly peopled with free immigrants it is unwise to continue to use it
as a penal settlement. These exiles may be divided into two principal
groups: firstly, political, often very honest and amiable people, such
as students who have taken part in a manifestation hostile to the
Government; Poles, compromised in recent insurrections; Catholics and
Protestants who have displayed too much zeal in the affirmation of their
religious opinions; and Raskolniks, whose peculiar theological opinions
have already been described. The second category includes less estimable
people: youths of good family of by no means irreproachable character,
who have been sent to meditate on their shortcomings for a certain
number of years, and repent of their follies at their leisure on the
pleasant banks of the Obi or the Yenissei; and certain functionaries of
good family who have been guilty of appropriating money officially
entrusted to them. Of these unfortunate people, those who have been
guilty of minor offences are sent to Western Siberia, where they often
obtain employment as servants and coachmen. On the other hand, those who
have committed graver offences, and who have been condemned to hard
labour, undergo their punishment in Eastern Siberia, in Irkutsk,
Yenissei, or in Trans-Baikalia, and must remain there. Inveterate
criminals, murderers, and escaped galley-slaves, are sent to the island
of Sakhalin, opposite the mouth of the Amur, where, even at the
expiration of their terms, they are obliged to end their lives. Those
political exiles who are not punished for grave offences are also
relegated to the west, where the climate is fairly temperate. The graver
the charge and the heavier the sentence, the farther are they sent
eastward, even to the icy territories of Yakutsk, Verkhoyansk, Nijne
Kolymsk, and Ust-Yansk. To these regions are also relegated the members
of the strange sect of Eunuchs. The majority of these people, unless
indeed they are very gravely compromised, after being obliged to reside
three, or even ten, years in a village, are allowed to settle in a town,
to go freely all over Siberia, and even at the expiration of a certain
number of years to return to Russia. They not infrequently make
themselves extremely useful. Many Poles become innkeepers, and I know of
one at least who is a Doctor of Law, and who speaks excellent French. At
Irkutsk one can get good beer, a beverage elsewhere execrable, a boon
entirely due to the enterprise of an exile from the Baltic provinces. In
the extreme north not a few exiles employ their time with scientific and
meteorological studies. Here I may observe that I have never seen any of
the exiles in Siberia ill-treated, and even the chain which some of them
are obliged to wear did not seem to me very heavy. The great prison of
Alexandrofsk, near Irkutsk, is admirably managed, its rules being very
mild. Nevertheless, I must confess that I only visited what the
officials chose to show me. All I can say is that, according to my
experience, if there are exiles who are habitually badly treated, they
must be very few in number. Of course, I can say nothing in extenuation
of the system of transporting a young man or even a young woman to
languish in a dreary village buried in the depths of a forest or the
Tundra, merely because they happen to have taken an over-prominent part
in some political or students’ demonstration.
One curious fact connected with this system of Russian transportation is
that the wives and children of the exiles are often authorized to follow
the condemned man, which they very frequently do, although in some cases
the law considers the marriage bond annulled by the mere act of
condemnation, the unfortunate exiles being considered civilly dead. The
families of these poor people often endure such terrible privations that
local committees have been founded, under the patronage of the
authorities, to assist them. In 1894, in the five Governments of
Tobolsk, Tomsk, Yenissei, Irkutsk, and Yakutsk, 15,000 exiles and their
families arrived.
In a single and not particularly favourable year, the population of
Siberia was increased by about 85,000 persons, of whom about 66,495 were
free immigrants. The natural increase was almost equally great, rising,
according to the statistics, to 78,000, exclusive of the Littoral
Province, which, if taken into account, ought to raise the population by
80,000. On a population which we may estimate at 5,300,000 at this
period, there must have been about 250,000 births, that is 47·5 per
1,000, and 172,000 deaths, or 32·4 per 1,000. The birth-rate, therefore,
is exceedingly high, and the death-rate, when the conditions of the
country are considered, certainly not abnormal. In 1898 the immigration,
owing to the opening of the railway, was greatly increased, to the
extent even of 200,000 souls. It is not therefore a lack of population
which is ever likely to affect the future of Siberia. The natural
resources of the country can be justly compared with Canada, which it
exceeds in size, and also, to a slight extent, in population; but the
difference between the two countries, in point of economic development,
is very great. What is wanted in Siberia is less the creation of a great
number of complex industries, for which the country is not yet ripe,
than the introduction, as already stated elsewhere, of up-to-date
methods of exploiting the natural resources of the country, which can
only be borrowed from foreign countries, and it will only be by opening
wide its doors and by receiving strangers without jealousy or
unwarranted suspicion that Russia will ever be able to obtain from her
gigantic enterprise in Trans-Siberia a return worthy of the great wealth
of a country which must eventually be placed on the same footing as any
other in point of civilization and progress.
CHAPTER VIII
MEANS OF COMMUNICATION IN SIBERIA
Absolute insufficiency of the present means of transport—Coaches and
sleighs—The tarantass: price, length and conditions of travelling
by this means of locomotion—Navigation—Scheme for penetrating into
Siberia by the Arctic Ocean and its recent success—Absolute
necessity of more railways.
In order to form a fair idea of the revolution which the Trans-Siberian
Railway is likely to bring about in the economical and political
conditions of Northern Asia, it will be as well to glance at the actual
conditions of the present means of travel and transport in the country.
The most rapid means of locomotion at the disposal of travellers only
yesterday, as it were, was in summer the stage-coach, and in winter the
sleigh. Twenty years ago, to go to Vladivostok (6,000 miles distant) the
traveller took the coach at Kazan, on the Volga, the journey occupying
not less than two months in the more favourable season, when a coat of
snow, as solid as marble and as smooth as velvet, replaces the usual mud
and slush on the Siberian roads. Later on, with the progress of
navigation and the construction of a railway across the Urals, the
starting-point for this journey was removed further on to the most
eastern point touched by the steamboats, in the basin of the Obi at
Tomsk. In summer this route shortened the journey viâ Krasnoyarsk,
Irkutsk, and Chita about 1,875 miles, at the end of which one reached
the Amur, where navigation recommenced. Since 1896 the Trans-Siberian
has passed Tomsk, and now the starting-point of the road journey has
gone gradually farther afield, and is now daily receding more to the
east.
In the summer of 1897 the railway had already reached the little town of
Kansk, about 160 miles beyond the Yenissei, and it was here, or at the
Kluchi station, some 65 miles further on, that one hired a coach. It is,
however, wiser to buy one’s tarantass, in order to avoid the trouble of
unloading luggage at each stage, and, again, the coaches hired out by
the postmasters are much less comfortable.
The station-master at Kluchi, to whom I had been recommended, like many
other subordinate officials in Siberia, was an exile, who in better days
had been a captain in the artillery, and, moreover, the cashier of his
regiment. One fine day, in a fit of over-generosity, he unluckily lent a
sum of money, abstracted from the cash-box, to a comrade who had lost
very considerably at the gaming-tables. Fate avenged the regiment in the
shape of an inspector, who inopportunely arrived upon the scene,
examined into affairs, and forthwith ended the military career of the
unlucky officer. After fourteen years’ exile in Siberia this
indiscriminately good-natured individual has become chief inspector of a
little railway-station, and adds to his small income by letting out
tarantasses to travellers. He sold me for £18 the best of his vehicles,
which, I was assured, had recently been used by a distinguished
official, but, nevertheless, I had to get rid of it, when I took the
steamer on the Amur two months later, for about £7.
Jules Verne, in ‘Michael Strogoff,’ has introduced and popularized the
tarantass. It is a vehicle without springs, with a body about six feet
long, like a trough supported on three broad planks of wood, and mounted
upon two very low axles nine to ten feet apart. An immense hood protects
the back part of the carriage from the rain, and by buttoning the
leathern apron fixed to the front, one can keep one’s self almost
hermetically screened from the weather. The tarantass, if it is not
particularly comfortable, has the advantage of being very strong. It
possesses nothing in the shape of a seat, and one is obliged to lie
full-length on a litter of hay or upon the luggage, unless, indeed, from
time to time, in order to change position, one cares to sit on the edge
of the vehicle or else alongside the coachman. The horses are supplied
by the postmasters at the rate of three kopecks, or three farthings, per
verst for each horse, and, moreover, one has to pay a fixed tax of about
fivepence per horse at each relay. The team consists usually of three
horses, and the relays are found at a distance of about sixteen miles
apart. The expenses, therefore, for this short distance amount to about
five shillings, inclusive of a tip to the coachman, so that there is not
much to complain of in that respect. The same tariff applies in winter,
but in the intermediary seasons, from March 5 to May 15, and from
September 15 to December 1, when the thaw sets in and the roads are very
heavy, a fourth horse is needed, and the expense is increased about one
quarter. I used frequently to ask Siberians how many miles could be
performed in this sort of vehicle. Of course, almost everybody gave me a
different answer. One high official in Tomsk informed me that it could
undertake as many as 400 versts in twenty-four hours. ‘Do not imagine
you can go more than from sixty-five to eighty,’ said the
station-master, and as it was he who had sold me my tarantass, I came to
the conclusion that his rather dismal prognostic was the true one. As a
matter of fact, everything depends upon the condition of the roads, and
also as to whether the traveller has supplied himself with a
_podorojne_, an official document usually granted to Imperial couriers
and to high officials, and which enables its possessor to avoid being
detained at the various stations on the road. Fortunately, as I had one
of these documents, I was able to make between 90 and 120 miles in
twenty-four hours.
I cannot describe the scenery by the way as particularly interesting.
The road cuts through the forests of pines and larches, and is, as a
rule, fairly well kept, and about as broad as the best of our national
routes in France. From time to time the wall of verdure opens out to
give way to a clearing, along which one perceives rows of wooden houses,
indicating the existence of some village or other, the name of which is
printed on a post, that also supplies information as to the number of
inhabitants of each sex. One soon gets tired of the beauty of the trees,
and, to be truthful, also of the rather monotonous convoys of _telegas_
loaded with merchandise, waggons with gold, escorted by soldiers, and of
the interminable caravans of emigrants. As one passes the Baikal the
road becomes less and less frequented, and more and more monotonous and
dreary, especially in the dismal steppe, with its stunted growth,
through which flows the Vitim, an affluent of the Lena. The road now
meanders through marshy prairies, and is merely indicated by the line of
gray telegraph-posts stretching off towards the horizon.
In order to break the intolerable monotony of these very long journeys,
it is usual to invite one or two other travellers to share expenses, and
these are not difficult to find, for the Russians are naturally sociable
and quite free from stiffness or conventionality. I was rather surprised
on one occasion to find the wife of an official in Trans-Baikalia who,
to join her husband, had performed the journey from Vladikavkaz, 4,000
miles by rail and 1,000 miles by road, in the company of an officer with
whom she was only slightly acquainted. The Russians were not more
astonished at this than Americans would have been. The general
insecurity of the country is probably responsible for the ease with
which people make acquaintances. Those who like to deal in horrors are
by no means behindhand in relating appalling stories of travellers who
have been waylaid by escaped convicts and murdered in the heart of the
forest. ‘Have you your revolvers?’ asked the postmaster, on the evening
of my first journey in my tarantass, and just as we were about to start.
‘Three travellers were assassinated on this relay only fifteen days
ago,’ continued he, and then he gave us a horribly detailed account of
the circumstances. I had no revolver with me, and never had any reason
to need one, and I rather doubted the authenticity of these gruesome
stories. The real danger which travellers in Siberia have to encounter
is that of having the rope which attaches their luggage to the back of
the tarantass artfully cut and their portmanteaus carried off. Accidents
are rare, as the tarantass is generally very strongly built. It is
somewhat alarming, however, when at the head of a steep incline, to
watch the coachman exciting his horses into a gallop by the wildest
gesticulations, but one soon learns that the danger in this case is
merely apparent.
Considerable patience is certainly needed on these Siberian journeys,
for the roads are often appallingly bad, especially when the inundations
set in after a thaw, when even the bridges are carried off by the
torrents. Then, again, what is particularly exasperating is the passive
air of resignation assumed by all concerned, postmaster and coachman,
and even by one’s travelling companions. Accustomed as these people are
to live in a climate in which the forces of Nature defy the ingenuity of
man, they are very apt, especially as they have nothing on earth else to
do, to shrug their shoulders at the inevitable, and to avoid with
supreme skill troubling themselves about the ways and means of bettering
things. I remember on one occasion, after having been assured at Kiakhta
and Chita that if I persisted in continuing my journey I was exposing my
life, being landed in a ford into which one of the wheels of the
tarantass stuck. To extricate it, we had to work for over an hour in the
cold water and in the dim dawn, and even then we were only able to do so
with the help of two Buriats who were passing that way, and who lent us
their horses to assist us in getting out of this unpleasant fix. With
the sole exception of this mishap I had very little to complain of. It
is in the post-stations, however, that one’s patience is put to the test
and that one realizes the force of a truism made by a certain English
author, who began a book on Siberia with the following singular
aphorism: ‘In Siberia time is not money.’ One crosses the threshold of
these rather doleful-looking houses, which become more and more
lugubrious as one advances eastward, with a feeling akin to dread.
The postmaster is almost invariably to be found seated in front of a
very dirty register, and generally grunts out his answers to your
inquiries as to whether he has any horses ready, ‘You will have to wait
two or three hours, possibly until the next morning,’ after which
pleasant piece of information you pass into the common waiting-room,
usually furnished with a few chairs, two or three tables and one or two
old sofas. On the wall hang an ikon or so, the inevitable portraits of
their Majesties, and a few frames with the usual printed instructions
and regulations. Then comes a sort of glorified bill-of-fare, from a
perusal of which you learn the names of a number of succulent dishes,
but, unfortunately, the last line informs you that the postmaster is
only obliged to supply you with black bread and hot water, the last
article being intended to make tea, with which, together with sugar,
every traveller supplies himself before starting. Nearly always,
however, one finds excellent eggs and milk. It is wise in travelling in
Trans-Baikalia to take a supply of preserves, which you can procure in
any large Siberian town.
The travellers, however, whom one meets in these resorts are generally
exceedingly friendly, very willing and even eager to share their
provisions. Seated round the great copper samovar, conversation becomes
cordial and intimate, everybody calling each other, regardless of age or
sex, by their Christian names, ‘Nicholas Petrovitch,’ ‘Paul Ivanovitch,’
‘Elisabeth Alexandrovna,’ and so forth. Constantly, when on the journey,
one often falls in with the same people, and thus acquaintance soon
ripens into intimacy. But, although these gatherings round the samovar
are very agreeable, and enable one to study the pleasanter qualities of
the Russian people, it is not advisable to pass the night in any of the
hostelries along the road, for all the insecticide powders ever invented
will not insure a quiet night.
However interesting, therefore, a cross-country journey through Siberia
may be, it is not exactly of the kind one would recommend for a pleasure
trip, although many Russian ladies, even of the highest rank, frequently
undertake it, but I do not recommend it to delicate people. When
supplied with a _podorojne_ and the weather is fine the journey is
pleasant enough, but it must not be forgotten that it takes seven weeks
to go from the Ural to Vladivostok. In winter the journey by sleigh from
the Volga takes two months, but if it takes so long for a traveller,
what must it be for merchandise! Commerce, therefore, on account of the
backward condition of the land routes, is obliged in Siberia to make use
of the splendid watercourses, but even these are paralyzed during seven
months of the year by thick coatings of ice, and, what is still worse,
they all flow towards an ocean eternally blocked by icebergs.
Recently some very hardy experiments, crowned so far with partial
success, have been made to penetrate to the heart of Siberia by the
Polar Sea when navigation is free during certain weeks of the year. It
will be remembered that it was by the White Sea that European commerce,
represented by an Englishman named Chancellor, first entered Russia in
the sixteenth century. It is therefore not to be wondered at that
attempts have been made to penetrate into Siberia by the mouths of the
Obi and the Yenissei, which are situated at no greater distance than
1,000 to 1,200 miles from the northernmost part of Norway, where the sea
is always free from ice. M. Sidorov, a Russian gentleman of ample
fortune, in the middle of the present century, devoted himself to
carrying out this scheme, and notwithstanding that he was discouraged by
the leading scientists of the day, who considered it impracticable, he
promised a very ample reward to the captain of the first ship which
should enter the Yenissei. Two expeditions, attempted in 1862 and 1869,
failed; but in 1874 an Englishman named Wiggins, captain of the _Diana_,
succeeded in passing the Straits of Kara, which separate Novaya Zemlya
from the continent, on the frontiers of Europe and Asia, and thus was
able to effect a passage into the estuary of the Yenissei. More
successful attempts were made in the following years, and in 1878 iron,
groceries, machinery, and other articles, were landed at the mouths of
the Obi and the Yenissei. In 1887 an English company was formed to carry
on a regular service at the close of each summer between England and the
North of Siberia, but unfortunately the first year was not successful,
the goods not being of a profitable character. On the succeeding voyage
the vessel could not pass the Straits of Kara, and had to return home.
Subsequently a new company was formed, but with disastrous results.
These ineffectual attempts, however, did not discourage the English, and
the scheme for navigating the Arctic Ocean was reassumed on a larger
basis in 1896, when three steamers entered the Yenissei and ascended
that river to Turukhansk, about 600 miles from its estuary, where their
goods were transferred to large barges and conveyed to Krasnoyarsk. The
merchandise, which included seven steam-engines, was sold for a fair
profit. This English company has now installed an agency at Krasnoyarsk,
and the Russian Government, in consideration of the great services which
it has rendered at great risk in attempting to create a regular service
through the Arctic Ocean into Western and Central Siberia, has reduced
the customs duties on all goods introduced by it by one-half, and indeed
has completely abandoned its claims on a number of articles such as
grocery and machinery. Moreover, so pleased has the Russian Government
been by this courageous attempt that it has granted some very valuable
mining concessions on this river. In 1897 six English steamers returned
to Turukhansk, and quite a fleet of them was directed to the mouth of
the Obi, hitherto somewhat neglected on account of the shallowness of
the water. Moreover, an attempt has recently been made to create an
export trade between Siberia and England, and a cargo of corn brought by
the company’s barges to the point where their ships are anchored was
soon afterwards happily transported to Europe. In 1898 the same company
met with identical success. Thus far this enterprise has been very
fortunate. Needless to say, the Kara Sea and the straits which border
upon it are, up to the beginning of August, blocked with ice,
concentrated there by the different currents, and the season during
which navigation is possible lasts only from six weeks to two months,
between August and September. The ships used in this particular service
must leave Europe a little beforehand, so as to await at the Straits of
Kara a favourable opportunity to penetrate to the mouth of the rivers,
ascend them, discharge and recharge, and start again as quickly as
possible. The time is exceedingly limited during which the barges can
transport their cargoes into the interior and reascend the Siberian
rivers ere these are frozen over, and this especially is the case on the
Yenissei, whose currents, even at Krasnoyarsk, are not more than six
miles an hour, attaining, however, twelve miles between Krasnoyarsk and
Yenissei. Therefore it is impossible to perform more than seventy to
eighty miles a day, and it must be remembered that between Turukhansk
and Krasnoyarsk the distance is about 1,000 miles, and that in the
beginning of October navigation is suspended. Under these conditions it
is not likely that more than one service a year can ever be organized,
although possibly, when the peculiarities of the icy regions of the Kara
Sea are better known, it might be otherwise. It should also be mentioned
that the vessels engaged in this particular trade have not been built
expressly for it, but are ordinary cargo-boats, which can be engaged
during the rest of the year trading in pleasanter climes. If the present
company establishes itself definitely it will be extremely fortunate,
not only for the town of Krasnoyarsk, but for the whole of Siberia,
which will thus be able to export, by a very cheap route, the excess of
its harvests and perhaps also some of its superb wood, and receive in
exchange from Western Europe manufactured articles and machinery,
hitherto exclusively supplied from Moscow. Therefore the opening of the
Trans-Siberian Railway, combined with the passage of navigation through
the Arctic Sea, will necessarily benefit Asiatic Russia very
considerably, and help that country to obtain freer communication with
the rest of the world, and thereby enable it eventually to become
completely modernized.
CHAPTER IX
THE TRANS-SIBERIAN RAILWAY
Origin of the Trans-Siberian Railway—At first considered only from the
strategic and political point of view—Completion of the Ural
Railway—Project of utilizing the navigable routes to unite Russia
to the Amur—Difficulties encountered owing to the severity of the
climate—Alexander III. in 1891 decides to lay a line between the
Ural and the Pacific, and determines the conditions of its
construction—The various sections of the line and its deviations
across Manchuria—Condition of the works in 1892, and the speed
with which it has been constructed—Russia now possesses (1900) a
line of mixed communication by train and boat passing from the
Ural to the Pacific, and in 1904 a complete line will pass
directly from the Ural to Port Arthur, a distance of over 4,130
miles—The monster ferry-boats in course of construction to convey
passengers across Lake Baikal—The success of the enterprise.
The idea of making an overland road from Russia to the Far East and the
Pacific probably germinated in the fertile brain of Voltaire, who, in a
letter to Count Schuvarof, dated Ferney, June 11, 1761, said ‘that it
ought to be possible to travel from Russia direct to China without
having to cross any considerable mountain pass, just as one can go from
St. Petersburg to Paris without leaving the plain.’ The matter was even
more practically defined, nearer our own time, by Count
Mouravief-Amurski, who, after he had annexed the province of the Amur to
Russia, favoured the idea of building a Trans-Siberian railway, and, in
the meantime, encouraged the creation of a postal highroad from the
Urals to the Amur, which, he considered, would greatly strengthen
Russian prestige on the shores of the Pacific.
The Trans-Siberian Railway, it may be remarked, was not originally
designed merely in the interests of Siberia, but as a means of uniting
Europe with the rich countries of the Far East, in such a manner as to
avoid the necessity of passing any length of time in the rude and
sparsely-peopled intermediary territories. Even after the project was
definitely accepted by Alexander III., the political and strategical
considerations of the problem were deemed of far greater importance than
the commercial; but presently it transpired that Siberia was not quite
the forlorn country hitherto imagined, but that it possessed certain
resources of great value, which might easily be developed, provided
rapid communication with the rest of the empire was organized.
The first step in the right direction was the construction of the Ural
Railway, opened in 1880, which united Perm on the Kama with Tiumen on
the Tobol, a river flowing into the Irtysh. The increasing necessity of
developing the important gold and iron mines in the Urals was doubtless
the principal motive why this line was completed; but presently it
proved to be of vast importance to the rest of Siberia, since, by
combining the river with the land routes, it became possible, at least
during five or six months of the year, to reach Tomsk in a relatively
short period.
At that time it was thought the opening of this trunk line would be
detrimental to the scheme of a complete Trans-Siberian railway, for once
the junction of the navigable tributaries of the Obi with those of the
Volga was accomplished, it was deemed desirable to connect Russia with
its possessions in the Far East by uniting in the same manner the basin
of the Obi with that of the Yenissei, and finally the latter with the
affluents of the Amur, and so with the Pacific. A railway from the Obi
to the Yenissei was not thought necessary, a canal being all that was
required. In 1882, therefore, the construction of a canal was undertaken
between the Ket, a tributary of the Obi, and the Kass, an affluent of
the Yenissei, the distance not being more than 126 miles. The canal in
question, which traverses a series of virgin forests, when completed,
unfortunately, however, did not realize expectation. To the east of the
Yenissei its promoters encountered formidable obstacles from the ice and
from the numerous rapids that disturb the current of the Angara, and all
attempts to ascend that river have hitherto failed.
Notwithstanding these difficulties, the enterprising engineers hoped to
the last to be able to modify some of them, but have not succeeded in so
doing. Thus, it soon became evident that if any practical means of
communication was to exist between Russia and the Pacific, it could only
be by some method independent of climatic irregularity. The late Tsar,
Alexander III., very readily understood that the mixed rail and river
system, with its many inconveniences of loading and unloading, and its
ice blockades, was, comparatively speaking, useless. Hence the great
encouragement and assistance which his Imperial Majesty gave to the
creation of the Trans-Siberian Railway, in which he took the deepest
interest, being quite of opinion that its completion was of vital
importance to the improvement and well-being of an immense section of
his Empire. In less than eight years from the day he signed the Imperial
decree authorizing its immediate execution trains began to run over
3,300 miles, uniting the upper region of the Amur with Europe and the
lower section of that river with the Pacific. Without entering into
further particulars of the various routes proposed and subsequently
given up, suffice it to say that at present the excellent idea of
creating a line running along the shores of Lake Baikal from Irkutsk to
Misofsk has been temporarily abandoned, and that a short line of
forty-four miles between Irkutsk and Listvenitchnaya now runs to the
western shores of that lake, where the trains will ere long be shunted
directly on board ferry-boats built on the well-known American system,
and thus travellers will be able to continue their journey to the Far
East without leaving the train.
The Trans-Siberian Railway between Cheliabinsk and Vladivostok now
includes a main line some 4,125 miles in length, plus two branch lines,
one 104 miles and the other 410 miles in length, which unite with the
Upper and Lower Amur.
The Western Siberian Railway was finished in 1895; the Central Siberian
and the section between Irkutsk and Baikal in 1898. Trains can now run
over 2,152 miles of rail. The 478 miles of the Ussuri line, of which 67
miles belong to the trunk line, were not opened until 1897. The many
difficulties of the Trans-Baikalian line, which somewhat retarded its
completion, having been overcome, it was inaugurated quite recently,
whereby 2,814 miles out of the total 4,125 miles were rendered free for
traffic. The line to Ussuri was finished three years ago, and the rail
having been laid between Onon and Stretensk, the Russians have now
(1900) a complete land and river system of intercommunication to the
Pacific.
For some years past a number of Russian officers and engineers have been
quietly exploring Manchuria, with very interesting results. In 1895 the
Chinese Government, after the Chino-Japanese War, accorded, as a token
of gratitude to Russia for her share in the combined intervention with
France and Germany in her favour, the privilege to build a railway
through this important province, and, moreover, to occupy the country
during its construction, the better to protect both works and workmen.
This circumstance brought about a great modification in the original
route of the Trans-Siberian line. The section in the Amur from Stretensk
to Khabarofsk was abandoned and replaced by a Trans-Manchurian Railway
which leaves the station at Onon, 104 miles east of Stretensk, to rejoin
the original line at Nikolsk, about 67 miles from Vladivostok, and thus
has a mixed route of rail and river been created which brings Europe and
the Pacific into direct communication during the summer months. The
train now conveys travellers from the Ural to Stretensk; thence by boat
to Khabarofsk, whence the line continues uninterruptedly to Vladivostok.
As to the great Manchurian line, it cannot be completed, even according
to the letter of the concession, before 1904, so numerous and so very
great are the natural and other obstacles which have to be overcome. A
notable modification has, however, already been made in the original
plan. Vladivostok is now no longer to be the main terminus, which will
be transferred to Port Arthur, 530 miles further south. The advantages
to commerce to be derived from this project will doubtless soon and
amply compensate for the extra labour and expense.
The great difficulties of constructing the Trans-Siberian Railway were
mainly due to its abnormal length. Whereas the Americans had only 2,000
miles to cut in creating their line between the Mississippi and the
Pacific, the Russians thirty years later had to lay down more than 4,000
miles of rail in order to reach the same ocean from the Ural. Otherwise
their difficulties were very much less formidable than those which at
times nearly baffled even the ingenuity of the Americans. Happily there
are no Rocky Mountains or Sierra Nevada in Siberia to traverse at a
great height, but only comparatively low ranges like the Yablonovoi, or
‘Apple-Tree Mountains,’ so-called from their rather dumpy shapes. Then,
again, although Siberia is at present not more densely inhabited than
was the Far West from 1860 to 1870, it contains no such desolate regions
as the plateaus of Utah and Nevada. It may, therefore, be safely
affirmed that from the engineering point of view the task was a
comparatively easy one, although the line has to pass over an
exceedingly varied country after leaving the Ural, and through
interminable plains, to reach the undulating regions between the Obi and
the Yenissei, where it ascends a chain of hills at an altitude of not
less than 2,000 feet on the road from the Yenissei to Irkutsk. On the
eastern shore of the Baikal the railway gradually ascends to an altitude
of not less than 3,500 feet above the level of the water, whence it
descends in rapid zigzag into the valleys of the Ingoda and the Chilka,
cuts the abrupt spurs of some very high mountains, and passes into
marshlands where, by the way, the engineers have had to overcome their
greatest obstruction, mainly due to the unstable condition of the soil.
When, therefore, we take into consideration that between the Amur and
the Ural there is not a single tunnel, we may safely conclude that, if
it were not for its enormous length, this now famous line has not been
from the engineering point of view as arduous an undertaking even as
have been, for instance, some of the much shorter lines nearer home,
across the Alps and the Cevennes.
The bridges, on the other hand, are very remarkable and numerous, and
some of them required great skill in their construction, since they span
the more important rivers of Siberia, which, with the exception of those
in the basin of the Amur, invariably flow due north. There are four
principal bridges, of which two cross the Irtysh and the Obi
respectively, each 2,750 feet in length; the other two span the Yenissei
and the Selenga, and are about 3,000 feet in length. These four bridges
were exceedingly costly, necessitating the erection of stone piles of
prodigious strength, capable of resisting the shock of the enormous
masses of floating ice. The minor bridges, some of them 700 to 900 feet
in length, are very numerous, but, beyond the difficulty of fixing them
firmly a great distance on either side of the rivers, owing to the
marshy nature of the soil on the immediate banks, it needed no
superlative skill on the part of the engineers who superintended their
erection.
Altogether the most remarkable feature of the line will be the manner in
which the trains are eventually to be transported across the Baikal, the
largest lake in Asia. In America and in Denmark the system of running a
train on to a monster ferry-boat, crossing considerable expanses of
water, has now been in practical use for many years; but the distances
hitherto have never exceeded seventy miles. The Toledo, Ann Harbour, and
Northern Michigan Railroad possesses a service of ferry-boats that
convey the trains across Lake Michigan, a distance of about seventy
miles. The _Père Marquette_, the biggest ferry-boat in the world,
so-called in honour of the celebrated Jesuit missionary and explorer, is
344 feet in length by 54 feet in width, and possesses four lines,
whereby it can carry thirty freight cars and sixteen very up-to-date
passenger corridor carriages. The difficulties to be surmounted with
respect to Lake Baikal are happily less than those to be encountered on
Lake Michigan. The distance from shore to shore, to begin with, is
considerably less. Between Listvenitchnaya, otherwise the ‘Larches,’ to
Misofsk is only forty miles. Notwithstanding the excessive cold, the
Baikal does not freeze until quite late in January, on account of its
great depth, 4,200 feet, of which 2,900 feet are below the level of the
sea, forming a prodigious volume of water which takes a very long time
to freeze, and an almost equally long time to thaw, for its temperature
rarely rises, even in summer, above 5° C. During eight months of the
year Lake Baikal is free and navigable, and it is believed that two
crossings a day, always in the same channel, may eventually reduce the
thickness of the ice in winter.
The building of these enormous ferry-boats has been entrusted to a
well-known American firm.[12] They are to be larger than the _Père
Marquette_, and provided with special contrivances for cutting the ice
as they force their passage through it, and they are, moreover, intended
to go at the rate of thirteen and a half knots an hour in free water,
and four knots when cutting through the ice. The passage will take nine
hours in winter and about two and a half hours in summer. Unfortunately,
storms are very sudden and frequent on Lake Baikal, and, moreover, in
summer travelling is often impeded by dense fogs, and it occasionally
happens that boats are detained for hours and even days at a time before
they dare venture across. It will certainly be very unpleasant for the
passengers to be kept for many hours at Listvenitchnaya or Misofsk
waiting for the weather to clear. However, they can take heart of grace;
for not so very long ago they might have been detained for days at some
out-of-the-way post-house, in company with a regiment of most unpleasant
and unnameable bedfellows!
The difficulties of obtaining workmen for building this railway were not
so great as might have been expected, thanks to the nomadic habits of
the Russians, who think very little of leaving their wives and
belongings at home, and going hundreds, even thousands, of miles away in
search of employment. Then, again, there were already a considerable
number of workpeople to be obtained on the line itself; for, as already
stated, the population of Siberia is concentrated on the old
postal-road, which runs in many points parallel to the railway. Convict
labour was not greatly used, and when it was it proved unsatisfactory,
and was soon more or less abandoned. The line, however, has taken an
unusually long time to finish, because the only season during which work
can be carried on in Siberia lasts but six months; but this probably
proved attractive to the Russian and Asiatic workmen, as it gave them
ample time, when the ground was thickly covered with snow, to return to
their cabins and indulge in those day-dreams so dear to them and to all
Orientals.
It is difficult to estimate the exact cost of the line, but it was at
first reckoned at over £40,000,000 sterling,[13] of which unfortunately
a considerable percentage was absolutely wasted, if not worse. Grave
charges have been brought against a great number of people in connection
with this line, and doubtless with reason; for it must not be forgotten
that the notions of honesty entertained in Asiatic Russia are apt even
now to be distinctly Byzantine. However, be this as it may, Russia can
be congratulated upon having completed a brilliant achievement, which no
other nation, except perhaps England or America, would have dared to
undertake, especially in so short a time.
CHAPTER X
THE RAILWAY THROUGH MANCHURIA
Concessions granted by China to construct the Manchurian Railway—The
East Chinese Railway Company and its statutes—Method of
construction and utilization of the waterways—Military and
political advantages—Branch to Port Arthur—Rapid progress already
made.
The completion of the Manchurian Railway will take place in a few years,
and if there has been an apparent delay in its construction, it must not
be forgotten that the harder work had already been finished on the
Trans-Siberian line when the plans for the Chinese scheme were only just
drawn up, and also that the obstacles to be overcome in Manchuria are
infinitely greater than any that presented themselves in Siberia. These
obstacles are mainly the result of the natural formation of the soil. As
to the alleged political difficulties, they are very unimportant,
although the line does pass through a Chinese province.
Notwithstanding that it was nominally conceded to an anonymous society,
the line is absolutely in the hands of the Russian Government, to
confirm which statement we have only to study the statutes of the East
China Railway Company, which were drawn up by the chief promoter, M. de
Witte, and formulated by the Russo-Chinese Bank between August 26 and
September 8, 1896, after the signing of the Convention between the
Russian and the Chinese Governments. According to these statutes, which
were approved of by the Russian Government on December 4 to 16, 1896,
and published in the _Messager Officiel de l’Empire_, ‘the shareholders
must be either Russians or Chinese. The concession lapses at the end of
eighty years from the day of the opening of the completed line. The
bonds can only be issued on demand, and then only with the consent of
the Russian Minister of Finance. The Russian Government guarantees
payment of the interest and the redemption of the bonds. The company is
managed by a committee, comprising a President and nine members, of whom
one is Vice-President, divided between Peking and St. Petersburg. The
President is chosen by the Chinese Government only; the other members of
the committee are usually elected at a general meeting of the
shareholders. The chief duty of the President is to watch over the
interests of the Chinese Government. The Vice-President is supposed to
interest himself exclusively in the management of the company. The
Russian Government has a right to superintend the progress and
development of the works, both during the period of construction and of
exploitation. The Russian Minister of Finance has, moreover, the right
to ratify the nominations of the Vice-President, chief engineer, and of
all other officials, and to approve or otherwise of any modifications
which may be suggested during the construction of the line.
These and other regulations, to which we need only allude, prove the
preponderating influence of Russia in the undertaking, and we should,
moreover, remember that the majority of the shares are in the hands of
the Russian Government. It is therefore obvious that the Chinese
President is but a mere figurehead, and that the whole enterprise is
exclusively Russian. As a matter of fact, the only important reservation
made in the interests of China is the following: ‘After a lapse of
thirty-six years from the date of the completion of the line, the
Chinese Government will have the right to repurchase it, and to assume
all the responsibilities of the said company.’ If China does not avail
herself of this right of repurchase, she will not enter into possession
of the line and its dependencies until the conclusion of the eighty
years from the date of its inauguration originally stipulated, under
which circumstance she will certainly have a very long time to wait. The
statutes also declare that the works must begin not later than August 16
to 28, 1897, and that they must be finished in six years, that is to
say, in 1903, but, as a matter of fact, it is not likely that everything
will be ready by that time, owing to the many obstacles the engineers
have to overcome.
According to a project accepted in 1897, the Manchurian line from Onon
to Nikolsk will be 1,200 miles in length, of which 890 miles will pass
through the Celestial Empire, and 310 miles through Russian territory.
The total distance by rail from Cheliabinsk to Vladivostok will be 4,072
miles instead of 4,640, as stated in the original scheme, including the
40 miles across Lake Baikal.
Chinese Manchuria is composed of the two basins of the Sungari, the
great affluent of the Amur, which joins this river between
Blagovyeshchensk and Khabarofsk, and of the Liao-ho, which flows into
the treaty port of Niu-chwang in the Government of Pe-chi-li. Between
these two basins lies a zone of steppes, quite destitute of water, an
eastern prolongation of the great Desert of Gobi, and 130 miles in
width. To the east of the north and north-west of Manchuria rises a
chain of lofty mountains, which separate the valleys of the Amur and its
tributaries, the Argun and the Ussuri, from the great inland and very
marshy plain watered by the Sungari and its tributary rivers.
The new line will, after leaving Onon, have to cross a lofty chain of
mountains south of Trans-Baikalia, 265 miles in length, at a height of
over 3,000 feet, and then descend into the valley of the Argun, to
finally enter an absolutely deserted mountainous region, unexplored
until the arrival of the engineering mission, some 130 miles long.
Thence it will have to be carried over a height exceeding even the 3,000
feet above mentioned, and for another 330 miles will run at a height
varying between 300 to 600 feet above the level of the Sungari plain, to
again rise to 1,950 feet in order to cross another lofty range before
redescending to Nikolsk, which is 130 feet above the level of the sea.
To the difficulties thrown in the way of rapid progress by the great
height and precipitous nature of the Manchurian Mountains must be added
those created by the unstable condition of the soil, which, according to
some travellers of my acquaintance who have explored this district,
consists of one immense lake of mud. Fortunately, however, it seems that
at about three or four feet below this objectionable surface exists a
solid bed of gravel, which may afford an excellent foundation for the
line. These unfavourable conditions were at first deemed so
insurmountable that at one time many pessimists were of opinion that it
would be wiser to abandon the Manchurian scheme altogether, and return
to the original plan of passing through the valley of the Amur. The
Tsar, however, held firm to his purpose, and the order was promulgated
by His Majesty in 1898 to forthwith undertake the construction of that
portion of the line between Onon and the Argun situated in his own
territory. The waterways in Chinese territory have been utilized
precisely as those in Siberia. In order to ascend the Sungari a number
of flat steam-tugs were ordered from Newcastle-on-Tyne. They are
unusually shallow, only drawing two feet of water, are supplied with
engines of 500 horse-power, and intended to convey the rails. These are
brought from Europe, viâ Vladivostok, over the Ussuri line. I remember
in September being at Iman, where the Vladivostok line reaches the
Ussuri, and watching with great interest one of these immense boats in
process of reconstruction. I cannot help thinking, however, that the
Argun would be better for the transport of heavy railway material than
the shallow Sungari.
If the Russian Government so promptly determined to carry out the
construction of the Manchurian Railway, it was rather on account of
important political considerations than of any shortening of the route.
This railway, it must be borne in mind, passes at less than 330 miles
from the extreme north of the Gulf of Pe-chi-li, whereas by the Amur
line the distance is double, and even then, after arriving at
Vladivostok in order to reach Pe-chi-li, an unexplored and uninhabited
mountainous district which extends north of the Korean Frontier would
have to be passed. From the plain of the Sungari Russia can easily send
troops to Mukden and Niu-chwang, and if necessary even to Peking,
whereas from Vladivostok she would find it very difficult, if not
absolutely impossible, to transport them by land, and, moreover, there
she is by no means complete mistress of the sea.
Vladivostok already contains a number of important maritime
establishments, the harbour is excellent, and in case of a war with
Japan it would be a most important point of vantage. Russia, however,
calculates that by means of the Manchurian Railway she will be able to
transfer the Trans-Siberian terminus five degrees south of Vladivostok,
to Port Arthur, whereby she dominates the Gulf of Pe-chi-li and both the
land and sea routes leading to the Chinese capital. This scheme has been
absolutely decided upon since 1898. The branch lines which unite the
harbours of Port Arthur and Talien-wan to the nearest point of the East
Chinese Railway, close to the town of Kirin, are being pushed on as
actively as possible. Thousands of tons of rail, as well as a number of
railway-engines, have already arrived from France and America at Port
Arthur and Niu-chwang, and another branch of the Russian Railway is
being laid in the direction of this last-named port. The branch from
Port Arthur is about 530 miles, so that the total length of the
Trans-Siberian line will not be greatly increased by this deviation,
which will bring it to a full-stop at the extremity of the peninsula of
Liao-tung, on the shores of a sea which is always free of ice. The total
increase in the expenditure will not exceed £5,000,000.
CHAPTER XI
THE ALTERED RELATIONS BETWEEN EUROPE AND THE FAR EAST RESULTING FROM THE
TRANS-SIBERIAN RAILWAY
The distance between Europe and the Far East by the
Trans-Siberian—Diminution of the time and expense of the
sea-route—China and Japan within two weeks of Paris and
London—Luxury and comfort on board the Far East express—The
difficulty of transporting merchandise, which must remain much
more expensive than by the sea-route—Importance of the
Trans-Siberian Railway as a means of diffusing civilization in the
Far East.
As already stated, between 1904 and 1905 at the latest, a continuous
railroad will bring Europe in touch with the shores of the Pacific. The
distances between Paris, Berlin, and London, and Vladivostok and Port
Arthur are as follows:
5,852 miles from St. Petersburg, viâ Moscow.
6,370 miles from Berlin.
7,044 miles from Paris.
7,104 miles from London, viâ Dover and Ostend.
European expresses would traverse the longest of these distances in one
week; but it must be remembered that it is not at present possible for
trains to run over the Siberian Railway at such high speeds as from
forty to fifty miles an hour. These are only possible upon the very
substantial lines of Western Europe, and are indeed much in excess of
what is achieved by the American Trans-Continental trains, once they
cross the Mississippi, or by the Canadian Pacific, the speed on which
between Montreal and Vancouver rarely exceeds twenty-five miles, and
even this relatively low rate cannot be expected at first on the
Trans-Siberian Railway. The rails are very light, especially on the
first or western sections, and the whole railroad is, in many places, as
is often the case in America, rather primitively constructed. It is
therefore calculated that the Far East express, the weekly
_train-de-luxe_, which is to be organized as soon as the line is
completely finished,[14] will take not less than twelve days to perform
the journey between London or Paris and Vladivostok and Port Arthur,
which will not necessitate a greater speed than twenty miles an hour
over the Siberian lines. When, however, the system is better managed and
placed on the same footing as that of the Canadian Pacific, the journey
may possibly be performed in a few hours under eleven days. The
Trans-Siberian route will, once it is opened, be incomparably the
shortest route between Europe and the Far East. It takes from
Vladivostok to the Japanese ports of Nawoyetsu and Niigata on the
Japanese Sea, a distance of about 480 miles, about forty hours by
steamer. From thence, about 280 miles of rail, traversed in fifteen
hours, will bring the capital of the Mikado within two and a half days
from Vladivostok, and about fifteen days from Paris. On the other hand,
the Chinese line, which is now being reorganized by an English company
between Peking and Tien-tsin, and from thence to Shan-hai-kwan at the
foot of the Great Wall, is being extended to Niu-chwang, where it will
join the Russian lines, and thus the journey from Paris and London to
Peking can be performed in between thirteen and fifteen days. Shanghai,
the principal port of China, is distant 575 miles from Port Arthur, and
can be reached in two days, and thus Hong-Kong will be only seventeen
days’ journey from London. It now takes thirty-four days at least to get
from Paris or London to Yokohama viâ the Suez Canal, and twenty-one viâ
Canada, and certainly not less than twenty-eight days to reach Shanghai
by either route. Twenty-five days are required to get to Hong-Kong viâ
Suez, and thirty viâ America, and although this port is situated in the
tropics, it could be reached much more expeditiously viâ Siberia than
round by India. The Marseilles steamers touch at Saigon after a voyage
of twenty-three days, but it is not probable that they will be able to
compete in the matter of speed with the Trans-Siberian Railway. The
capital of Cochin China, however, marks the extreme limit of this
sphere; but all places situated to its north and east—Japan, Tonkin,
China, and the Philippines—can be brought immeasurably nearer to Europe
than was certainly ever imagined by Voltaire when he wrote his letter to
Count Schuvarof. It is therefore evident that, even if the maritime
companies do their utmost to increase the speed of their boats, they
will never be able to convey travellers to Peking, Hong-Kong, Shanghai,
Tokio or Manila, in anything like the short space of time taken by the
Trans-Siberian.
Another great advantage of the Trans-Siberian line is the diminution of
the expense, which will be considerably less than that charged by the
steamers. The price of a first-class passage from Marseilles to
Hong-Kong, Shanghai, or to one of the Japanese ports, is uniformly about
£70, to which must be added another £5 for travelling expenses from
London to the starting-point. Viâ Canada the expense is about the same,
whereas by crossing Siberia it will cost something like half. The
Russian tariff is an extremely reasonable one, especially for great
distances, and it is calculated that the prices from the German frontier
to Vladivostok or Port Arthur will be by the ordinary trains about 11
guineas first class, and £5 third. By the _train-de-luxe_ from the
Russian frontier to the end of the journey it will be £18. To these
expenses must, however, be added those which are always inclusive on
board ships, but never on the trains—such as food, service, etc., which,
however, are never alarmingly high on the German or Russian lines. If we
add to the above the price of the ticket from Port Arthur to Shanghai,
£6, to Hong-Kong, £12, it is clear that the cost of the journey will be
about £32 from Paris to North China and Japan, and £40 to Southern
China—in a word, half what is charged at present.
A rather alarming question arises as to how people will be able to
endure the inevitable fatigue of passing twelve days continuously in a
railway-carriage. Habit is second nature, and although there is no other
line in the world of such great length, nevertheless countless Americans
think nothing of spending a week or ten days constantly travelling by
train. It must be remembered, too, that the carriages intended for this
line will be built expressly, and contain every conceivable comfort and
modern improvement. A long corridor down the centre of the compartments
will enable passengers to take exercise; and, needless to say,
everything will be arranged for the comfort of the sleeping department,
and for the heating of the carriages in winter. Already those lines
which have been opened in Siberia are supplied with restaurants
providing very good food, and usually under the management of a
Japanese, whose head cook is well skilled in the concoction of
cosmopolitan dishes, and whose waiters leave nothing to be desired in
point of cleanliness and civility. Even now, in out-of-the-way stations,
where, a few years ago, the foot of man had never trod, travellers who
have exhausted their store of novels may find a bookstall fairly well
supplied with current fiction and guide-books.
The Russian Government, however, in its zeal for the comfort of
Trans-Siberian travellers, has made arrangements for the installation of
a super-excellent restaurant, a well-stocked library, and, in short, of
all those many luxuries hitherto which are the joy and boast of
Americans. One cannot expect the comfort of a first-class liner in a
narrow, box-like train; but then we must remember that the passengers on
board these floating palaces have to endure many miseries in the shape
of sea-sickness and the numerous ills which invariably accompany a
journey through the Torrid Zone. There can be no question as to the
superiority of the Trans-Siberian route to the Pacific over the
Canadian, inasmuch as the latter includes two long sea-journeys. In
summer the Trans-Siberian line will be undoubtedly very pleasant, and
even in winter the carriages can be kept warm, and, moreover, there need
be no fear of an unexpected visitation from an avalanche as there is in
Canada. And thus, in the course of a few years, the irrepressible
globetrotters of the two worlds, as well as the business man, to whom
‘time is money,’ will find a new and rapid means to reach countries
which distance and the difficulties of travel have hitherto placed
beyond the reach of only the most enterprising or of those who do not
mind a very long sea-voyage. From the purely commercial side of the
question, however, there can be no doubt that a very long time may
elapse before the Trans-Siberian Railway can compete with the sea route
in transporting heavy merchandise to and from the Far East, and the
great commercial centres of Europe and Asia. Still, certain lighter
articles—silk and tea, for instance—can certainly be brought in fair
quantities, viâ the Siberian line, at a reasonable price. One of the
great advantages of the line will be the facilities it offers for
forwarding letters to and from China, Japan, etc., in considerably less
than half the time now taken.
As to the social transformation which must inevitably result from the
constant passage of so many people belonging to the highly civilized
nations of the west, through a country hitherto so backward as Siberia,
it may well be summed up as incalculable. That Russia will specially
benefit by the creation of a line which she has built at an enormous
cost is but just, and, moreover, surely the reward for her courage and
enterprise. At the same time, civilization will also find a common
interest in the amazing difference which so important a factor must
inevitably create in the history of progress in the Far East.
_PART II.—JAPAN_
CHAPTER I
THE ORIGIN AND PAST HISTORY OF JAPAN
Different opinions respecting Japan and the reforms which have been
carried out in that Empire within the past few years—Necessity of
understanding something of Japanese history in order to appreciate
the recent transformation in the country—Origin of the
Japanese—Early history—The Mikados—The Japanese adopt Chinese
civilization between the fifth and eighth centuries of our
era—Inability for the Japanese to accept certain Chinese
institutions—Decline of the absolute power of the Mikados—Military
government adopted in the twelfth century—Japanese
feudalism—Increase of power among the feudal lords in the
fourteenth century—Civil wars and anarchy in the fifteenth
century—Order re-established and the Government centralized
through the action of the great military chieftains at the end of
the sixteenth century—Foundation of the dynasty of the Tokugawa
Shoguns—Europeans in Japan in the sixteenth century—The Japanese
accept our civilization with enthusiasm—Rapid spread of
Christianity—Reaction in the seventeenth century—Purely political
causes—Persecution of Christians and the expulsion of
foreigners—Japan isolated during nearly two centuries.
The absolute isolation which Japan preserved for over three hundred
years and her systematic rejection of any attempt at the introduction of
even a ray of Western civilization, is not, it must be confessed,
without fascination for all who take interest in the history of a people
who, during the last thirty years, have become so popular and so
progressive as the Japanese. Suddenly, and without any explicable cause,
the country, which was as carefully sealed to the outer world as the
enchanter’s famous casket, was thrown wide open, not only to admit, but
even to court, foreign progress, science and civilization, and now Japan
has definitively accepted without any hesitation the most absolute
changes and audacious innovations in her political and social systems,
and has effected a transformation in her manners, ideas, and customs,
not to mention costumes, such as has never before been achieved by any
other nation in so brief a space of time.
At first Europe watched this extraordinary evolution with interest, not
unmingled, however, with scepticism, finding it difficult to take
seriously what might in the end prove but a passing fashion or the
result of caprice. Many, indeed, felt anxious lest the introduction of
modern civilization into a country so deliciously quaint and fascinating
as Japan might destroy the charm of a population of artists, and,
moreover, do irreparable damage to that exquisite art for which it is so
justly celebrated. For many, Japan ought to have remained the land of
lovely china, of rich lacquers, of _kakimonos_, _musmes_ and
chrysanthemums. Indeed, who could be expected to believe that the home
of the _geisha_ and of all sorts of dainty delights, of dwarf trees and
liliputian tea-gardens, could possibly acclimatize the smoky industries,
the strict militarism and the matter of fact judicial and political
systems of our humdrum civilization? As well expect such a
transformation in a world of butterflies and glittering dragon-flies as
in the Empire of the Mikado. One eminent writer declared that ‘the Japan
of to-day is but a bad translation’; and yet another says: ‘I find Japan
a sort of anæmic dwarf. I know that she is of antediluvian antiquity,
but for all that I cannot help thinking this little old mummy, bedecking
herself in the trappings of Western civilization, supremely ridiculous.’
This was the opinion held not only by casual visitors to Japan, but also
by not a few who had lived for years in the country, and who were never
happy excepting when contrasting the solid qualities of the Chinese,
their circumspection, their prudence, and their profound attachment to
ancient customs, with the intense vanity and frivolity of the Japanese.
What could not be achieved by twenty-five years of hard work and
peaceful progress in the way of convincing Europe of the earnestness of
her intentions Japan did in less than six months by her military
successes. When Europe beheld the triumphant achievements of the
Mikado’s army, she had to confess that Japan was not quite the butterfly
she had imagined, and began to study with greater attention the
remarkable work which had been accomplished in that Empire. But the
wonderful progress made in Japan during the last half of this century
would not seem so extraordinary were the history of the Land of Flowers
and its people better known. By the light of the past, the Revolution of
1868, which led to the suppression of the feudal system in Japan, and to
the opening of the ports throughout the country, becomes clear and
sequent.
In the fifth century of our era Japanese history begins to assume
definite form, and the chronicles of the Kojiki and the Nihongi, which
were written in the eighth century, cease to record mythological events
and to deal with those purely human. Since that date the ancestors of
the present Emperor have been ruling sovereigns over the two meridional
islands Kiu-Siu and Sikoku, and the south-western section of the great
Island of Hondo. According to tradition, they had already been reigning
princes for over a thousand years, and their history, like that of
almost every other great dynasty, stretches back into the night of time,
when the world was peopled by gods and demigods. The first Emperor,
Jimmu-Tenno, was a grandson of Amaterasu, Goddess of the Sun, herself a
great-granddaughter of the gods Izanaghi and Izanami, who were the
actual founders of Japan. We next learn that Japan sprang direct from
the hands of the gods, whereas all the other countries of the world,
even those from whom she is pleased to accept modern civilization,
originated through the evolution of natural forces. Jimmu-Tenno having
alighted on this earth from heaven on the island of Kiu-Siu, passed
thence viâ the Inland Sea to Hondo, where, after conquering ‘people of
the same race as his own subjects,’ who inhabited these parts, he
subdued the whole of the western part of the island, even to the zone of
the central forests, ‘which were peopled by barbarians.’ In the year 660
B.C., he established himself in the province of Yamato, where they
pretend in our day to have discovered his tomb. It is from this very
early date that the Japanese begin their history. Jimmu-Tenno was
succeeded by several generations of Mikados, of whom the first seventeen
were centenarians, who lived between a hundred and a hundred and forty
years each. In those distant times, the gods, it seems, took the same
personal interest in Japanese affairs as they condescended to do in
those of the Trojans. The history, however, of Japan, in its legendary
period, like that of most other countries, is exceedingly sketchy and
contains nothing of a positive character until the year 200 A.D., when
an Amazonian Empress, who rejoiced in the rather startling name of
Jingo, headed a successful campaign against the Koreans.
Contemporary historical research has resulted in clearing away a good
deal of the mist which shrouded in a veil of mystery the primitive
history of Japan. It would seem, however, for instance, that some
centuries before our era the Mongolian pirates indulged in frequent
incursions upon the western coast of the country in much the same
unpleasant manner as did, some thousand years later, the Normans in
Europe. After exterminating the natives, who were not numerous, they
established themselves, together with their wives and families, in the
island of Kiu-Siu. Later on, an illustrious chief, who turns out on
closer acquaintance to be none other than Jimmu-Tenno, of legendary
fame, crossed over to the great island and ‘found it peopled by
inhabitants of the same race as himself’; hence it becomes evident that
there were two distinct migrations from the mainland of the ancestors of
the actual Japanese, a fact confirmed in a double cycle of heroic
legends, one of which deals with the island of Kiu-Siu and the other
with the province of Idzuma, situated on the west coast of Hondo, an
island opposite Korea.
The Japanese, therefore, form a part of the great family scientifically
known as the Uralo-Altaic, which includes the Finns, the Hungarians, the
Turks, the Mongols and the Koreans. The different branches of this
family appear to be less closely united than are those of the white
race, but on the other hand, their languages, which are distinctly
agglutinant, have certainly a common origin. It should be remarked that
the Chinese do not form part of this group, constituting a family quite
apart, whose language is distinctly monosyllabic and rhythmic. Their
handwriting, however, was adopted by the Japanese between a thousand and
twelve hundred years ago, as were also a number of words describing
objects which up to that time were unknown to them, and probably
introduced from China. If it is an undoubted fact that the Chinese and
Japanese belong to the Yellow Race, the link which unites them is quite
as remote as that which exists between a Frenchman and a German on the
one hand, or an Arab and a Kabyle on the other. A superficial analogy
between the Chinese and the Japanese must not mislead us. The very
sparse indigenous race which the Korean immigrants found upon the south
and south-west of Japan were of the same family as the Ainos of our
time, of whom some 15,000 still linger in Yezo, the great southern
island of the Archipelago; and, moreover, they belonged to the same race
as the Ghilaks of the Amur, and the tribes to the north-east of Siberia.
These Ainos, who exist by hunting and fishing, are considered to be the
hairiest people on earth; they are mere savages, quite as dirty in their
habits as the Japanese are clean. They had in all probability little or
nothing to do with the formation of the actual population.
The civilization of the ancient Japanese until the fifth or sixth
century of our era was, it seems, most primitive. Writing was unknown,
and the people were but just emancipated from the Stone Age, their
knowledge of the use of metal being very limited. They owned a few
domestic animals, the horse and the dog, and also poultry. They
cultivated rice, millet, barley, two sorts of peas, and in addition to
these cereals the sea and the rivers supplied them with fish, and the
forests with flesh. They apparently ate more meat than do their
descendants of the present day, a fact due, of course, to the
introduction of Buddhism, whose followers are, or should be,
vegetarians. As to their houses, they were of wood and extremely simple.
The Shinto religion, which has become once more the State religion, has
a mythology formed out of legends dealing with the generation of the
gods who preceded the advent of the Imperial family. Out of the eight
hundred myriads of divinities only some half-dozen are now venerated.
Among these is Amaterasu, Goddess of the Sun, and ancestress of
Jimmu-Tenno. The spirits of the deceased Mikados and of certain heroes
are known as _Kami_, ‘superior beings,’ and are honoured by this title,
as are also the ancestors of each family. Beyond this Shintoism
recognises neither dogma nor ethics. A writer of the last century thus
apologizes for this easy-going creed. ‘It was,’ says he, ‘invented by
the Chinese, because they are a very immoral people; but in Japan
morality is not needed, since the Japanese have only to act according to
the dictates of their hearts to do well. To obey the Emperor, who is the
descendant of the gods, and almost a god himself, and follow one’s
natural inclinations, are the only precepts imposed upon its followers
by Shintoism, and a pilgrimage to the nearest temple once a year the
only kind of divine service exacted. There are no public ceremonies,
excepting an occasional hieratic dance performed by young girls. In the
wooden temples roofed with bark, which are supposed to reproduce the
habitations of the primitive Japanese, there are no ornaments, no
sculpture, and no representations whatever of the Divinity. The priests,
who wear no distinctive costume, and who lead the lives of ordinary
citizens, occasionally don a rich garment with long flowing sleeves, go
to the various temples and perform certain very simple rites in the
presence of a mystic mirror to be found in every temple, a facsimile of
one given by the Goddess of the Sun to her grandson Jimmu-Tenno, as an
emblem of purity. A white horse will also sometimes be seen within the
precincts of the temples. The only sacrifice is the offering of fruits,
fish, wine, and rice, accompanied by the recitation of certain prayers
in the ancient Japanese language; this is, it must be confessed, an
exceedingly primitive cultus, but it was the only one known in Japan
until the sixth century, at which epoch began the great development of
Chinese civilization in Japan, originally introduced, however, by the
invasion of Korea by the Japanese armies at the commencement of the
third century. The Korean envoys who brought the annual tribute to their
Japanese conquerors eventually became the pioneers of civilization among
the more primitive race which had overcome them. They brought into the
country, for instance, in the year 284 the art of writing. Possibly this
date is erroneous and ought to be 400, the period when, according to a
very ancient tradition, the first mention of medicine is made in the
national history, on the occasion of the grave illness of the then
reigning Mikado, who was cured by a Korean physician. Then followed the
silkworm, and the mulberry-tree, the arts of spinning and weaving.
Finally, in 552 the first image of Buddha appeared, and eventually led
to the introduction of the religion of Sakyamuni.
From this period until the beginning of the seventh century there was a
perfect invasion of the arts, customs, and opinions, religious, social,
and political, of the neighbouring continent. Then was for the first
time displayed that ardour which is so peculiar to the Japanese, and, if
I might so say, also of that rage for civilization—true, it was then
only Chinese civilization—which characterizes them at the present day.
Buddhism triumphed without formidable opposition, and at the beginning
of the seventh century there were not less than forty-six temples and
1,385 priests or Buddhist monks in Japan. The Chinese calendar was
adopted, the language, writing and literature of China were studied with
enthusiasm. Ambassadors and special missions were sent to the continent
to examine on the spot the religion, the arts, the industries and also
the government of the Chinese and their political and judicial system.
Thus it so came to pass that feudalism was introduced centuries before
it was imposed upon Europe after the fall of the Roman Empire. At the
death of the Empress Suiko in 628, under whose reign all these reforms
took place, Japan was completely remodelled after the image and likeness
of China. The remarkable feature about this transformation is its
resemblance to the revolution now in progress. It was effected without
the least opposition or violence. The methods used then were the same as
those which are being employed to-day: the sending forth of missions and
the employment of foreigners by the Government to study and introduce
everything that was likely to improve the country and its people. Above
all, there existed a universal goodwill and eagerness to stimulate the
advance movement. Japan, therefore, by her wonderful powers of
assimilation, was suddenly converted from a barbarian to a civilized
country. Nevertheless, however deep-rooted was the influence of China,
it did not interfere with the architecture and the art of the Japanese,
which remained distinct. The good sense of this able people taught them
to distinguish between the different elements in the civilization which
they were introducing, to reject those which did not suit them, and to
transform others which were better fitted to their inclination. A
reaction, however, set in between the eighth and the eleventh centuries
which enabled the Japanese to recover sufficient of their identity and
yet retain most of the innovations in their industries, agriculture, and
fine arts, in the culture of which latter they eventually surpassed
their masters. The new religion suited them admirably, and it remains to
this day much less corrupt in Japan than it is among the Chinese
themselves. The official and administrative system introduced from
China, being opposed to the natural bent of the Japanese mind, was,
however, soon rejected, and they returned to their own, which suited
them better.
The mandarinate was never acclimatized, and the principle of heredity
always remained in force. The divers degrees of dignity, at first twelve
in number and then nineteen, were never given, as in China, to
individuals, but to families as hereditary titles. The position, for
instance, of Prime Minister, or _Kwambaku_, became hereditary in a great
family of the Court, that of the Fujiwaras, from which, moreover,
according to tradition, the Empress was invariably selected. Then began
to manifest itself that very peculiar trait in the history of Japan of
real authority very rarely being vested in the hand of the man supposed
to exercise it. The Mikado, who, from the ninth century onwards, was
invariably a child, and abdicated in youth to retire into a monastery,
is supposed to reign and yet never govern. This was the beginning of a
system of Imperial self-effacement which lasted over a thousand years.
Presently we discover that the hereditary _Kwambaku_ also exercises no
authority, which is exactly the opposite of what took place in Europe in
the Middle Ages, where, if a Sovereign retired into privacy, his Prime
Minister was pretty certain to become forthwith correspondingly
prominent. In the Middle Ages, at an epoch when Europe was engaged in
fighting and slaughtering, the Court of Kioto was a centre of art,
pleasure and poetry, in which, however, authority was completely set
aside.
In the meantime, feudalism established itself in the country. Side by
side with the effeminate aristocracy of the _kuges_, certain nobles
descended from collateral branches of the Imperial family, and who in
their time had occupied great official positions, both in the provinces
and in the capital, leaving subalterns to fulfil their duties, now
formed themselves into a military and territorial aristocracy, and,
whilst profound peace reigned in the greater part of the country,
carried on a war against the Koreans in its south-eastern limits, and
against the Ainos, who had been driven back to the north of Hondo, in
the north-east. The custom imported from China by the Japanese of
separating the civil from the military functionaries, combined with a
genius for heredity, led in the course of time to the creation of many
great military families, under whose authority or lead clans of soldiers
grouped and gradually separated themselves from the rest of the
population. The chiefs of these clans in due time became, especially in
the tenth century, in the north and eastern provinces, independent, so
that by degrees their influence during the two succeeding centuries in
the Government was paramount, and the Court of Kioto was the object of
perpetual dissensions between two great military families, the Taira,
and the Minamoto, both descendants of Emperors of the eighth and ninth
centuries. They had each a claimant to the Imperial throne, who was
invariably an infant. A Taira, Kiyomori, governed Japan from 1156 to
1181 in the position of Prime Minister. He ordered the Minamoto family
to be massacred; one or two of its members, however, escaped, among them
Yoritomo, the son of the chief. In due course of time this Yoritomo
created a revolution in Kwanto in his own favour. Upon learning of the
death of Kiyomori he straightway marched upon Kioto in company with his
bastard brother, Yoshitsune, who had escaped from a monastery to which
he had been relegated. Between them they seized the capital and
proclaimed a child of seven years of age Emperor in the place of the
Mikado Antoku, who was not much older, and who was carried off by the
Taira to the island of Kiu-Siu. The great naval battle of Dan-no-ura,
won by Yoshitsune in 1185 at the mouth of the Inland Sea, completed the
ruin of the Taira, who, together with their Emperor, were nearly all
slain in the disaster to their fleet, which made Yoritomo master of
Japan.
Yoritomo behaved with the utmost ingratitude to his brother Yoshitsune,
who had so largely contributed to his success. He ordered him never to
appear again at Court, and sent a group of assassins to pursue him to
the farther end of the island. His life was frequently saved, thanks to
the shrewdness of the giant monk Benkei and the devotion of the
dancing-girl Shidzuka. The adventures of the brave Yoshitsune and his
death by suicide has supplied Japanese literature with a number of
interesting and picturesque legends not unlike those which delighted our
ancestors in the Middle Ages.
After these events, the feudal system was firmly established in Japan
for over seven centuries, and we hear no more of Chinese methods of
administration. This is mainly due to the warlike character of the
Japanese people and to the increasing power of the feudal chiefs, who
had naturally, in order to maintain their reputation, to keep the
country in a perpetual ferment of political or civil war. The striking
difference between the feudal system in Japan and that which existed
contemporaneously in Europe is that the Japanese ruler was never the
Sovereign. He was called the Shogun, or Sei-i-tai-Shogun, literally,
‘General charged with the duty of subjugating the barbarians.’ This
title was first bestowed upon Yoritomo in 1192. It was the Shogun’s duty
to govern. In theory he was responsible to the Emperor, whose humble
servant he was supposed to be. As a matter of fact, the Mikado had long
since ceased to interfere in the government, and lived in the palace of
Gosho at Kioto in the midst of luxury, his generals and ministers paying
him no other respect than that of mere ceremony.
The new power of the Shogunate instituted by Yoritomo was not long
before it also became attenuated. In 1198, immediately after the death
of its founder, his father-in-law, Hojo Tokimasa, seized the reins of
government, and in 1219 the posterity of Yoritomo was already extinct.
The supreme authority was by this time definitely vested in the family
of the Hojo, whose chief took the title of Shikken, or Regent, and chose
and dethroned the Shoguns, usually children, at his pleasure, selecting
them either from the Imperial family or from that of the Fujiwaras. The
period during which this curious regime lasted is perhaps the most
brilliant and the most prosperous in the history of Japan in the Middle
Ages; but eventually Japan fell into a sort of feudal anarchy, bearing a
close affinity to that which existed in Germany at the same epoch. The
power of the Hojos was finally broken in 1334, thanks to the combined
action of the feudal lords, aided by a Mikado named Go-Daigo, who
happened for once to be possessed of some energy. The executive,
however, did not remain long in the hands of this Emperor. His chief
lieutenant, Ashikago Takauji, rose up against him, obliged him to flee
from his capital, and replaced him by another member of the Imperial
family, at the same time electing himself Shogun. From 1337 to 1392
Japan had two rival dynasties of Mikados. Notwithstanding these
disturbances, the Court of the Shoguns Ashikagas was very often
extremely brilliant, both from the literary and the artistic point of
view. During the fifteenth century civil wars raged again, and the
authority of both Mikado and Shogun consequently dwindled into
insignificance. In the provinces the warriors, known as _samourai_,
gradually became hereditary, recognising no authority but that of their
feudal lords, the daimios. The country became poor, the population
rapidly dwindled, and all the arts except that of the armourer tended to
disappear. The opening years of the sixteenth century beheld Japan in a
pitiable plight indeed, the population decimated by terrible epidemics
and earthquakes, as well as civil wars, and such was her condition that
she might have been compared to France after the Hundred Years’, or
Germany after the Thirty Years’, War. When St. Francis Xavier visited
the country in 1550 he was appalled by its misery. It was a far cry then
from the Japan of his days to the Cipango, the golden land of promise so
greatly vaunted by Marco Polo three centuries earlier. The feudal system
in Japan, however, had been of great use in forming the character of the
people; it preserved in them those virile qualities so conspicuously
absent among the Chinese.
The close of the sixteenth century witnessed the decline and fall of
feudalism throughout the Empire, which led to the re-establishment of
centralization. This was due to the energy of three great military
chiefs, Nobunaga, Ieyas, and Hideyoshi, the first of whom was descended
from the Taira and the second from the Minamoto, and therefore both were
essentially aristocratic. The third, however, was about the only
personage in medieval Japan who ever rose from the ranks to occupy a
towering position in the State. Ota Nobunaga, after having considerably
aggrandized the very small principality which he had inherited from his
father, interfered in the quarrels of a succession of Shoguns, and
deposing in 1573 the last Ashikaga, seized the Government as Prime
Minister, and compelled the daimios to obey him. He curbed the
encroachments of the Buddhist monks, who had accumulated during the long
period of the civil wars immense landed estates; but at last, hemmed in
by his many enemies, this remarkable man ended his career by
disembowelling himself, an unpleasant but evidently popular method of
committing suicide with the Japanese.
Hideyoshi, who from groom had become principal lieutenant to Nobunaga,
extinguished all further spirit of resistance on the part of the feudal
barons. Once Japan was united, he wished to establish its power beyond
the limits of the Empire, and for this purpose sent an expedition into
Korea, which, however, only resulted in ruining that country, thanks to
the quarrels and dissensions which took place between the Japanese
generals, some of whom were Christians and others Buddhists.
At the death of Hideyoshi in 1598, the power of the daimios, even that
of the great princes of the south-west, Choshiu and Satsuma, was already
much attenuated, and everything was ready for a change similar to that
which took place in France under Louis XI. It led to the
quasi-independence of the lords being suppressed in favour of a
feudality of a purely domestic character. The principal factor in this
change was Tokugawa Ieyas, who had been one of the chief generals of
Nobunaga and Hideyoshi. Placed by this last at the head of the council
of the regency, which had to exercise power during the minority of his
son Hideyori, Ieyas was not long before he quarrelled with his
co-regents. Assuming the command of an army, recruited in the north and
the east of the Empire, he in 1600 defeated at Sekigahara the united
forces of the clans of the south and the west, and thus made himself
master of Japan. Instead of a purely ephemeral sovereignty, he founded a
dynasty and a régime which lasted for 250 years, as the result of his
ability and that of his son and grandson. Before proceeding further in
detailing the political and social organization of this interesting
country, it will be well to pause and consider an event of supreme
importance which took place in the sixteenth century, and the effect of
which explains much that is now happening. I refer to the period of the
great Portuguese colonization, when that now small kingdom had annexed
vast possessions in the Indies, and had added new ones in Cochin China
and in the south of China to her Empire.
In 1542, three Portuguese, who had taken passage on board a Chinese
junk, were wrecked upon the southern coast of Japan. Among the other
passengers happened to be a Chinaman, who volunteered as interpreter. He
seems, however, to have entertained for foreigners the same contempt as
that in which they are held by his compatriots in this year of grace
1900. He described the Portuguese to the Japanese as people who were
very little better than savages, who did not know how to write Chinese,
and as being, moreover, profoundly ignorant of the art of eating their
food with chopsticks. We may conclude, therefore, that these worthy
Portuguese did not produce a very favourable impression. In 1545, the
navigator Fernan Mendez Pinto arrived at the little island of
Tanegashima, to the south of Kiu-Siu, and was well received by the
feudal lord of that district. The powerful Prince of Bungo,
father-in-law to the Lord of Tanegashima, having heard of the strangers,
invited them to his capital in the north-east of Kiu-Siu, and
entertained them very handsomely. Pinto was so favourably impressed by
all he saw that two years later he returned to the same spot, carrying
off with him two Japanese fugitives from justice. They had the fortune
of being converted to Christianity by St. Francis Xavier, and served him
as interpreters when the renowned Jesuit missionary landed on August 15,
1549, at Kagoshima, the capital of the Prince of Satsuma. The earliest
converts were a few relatives of the interpreters. The Prince received
the saint very favourably, and the Princess insisted upon him composing
for her benefit a summary of the Articles of the Christian Faith,
together with the translation of the principal prayers. St. Francis
immediately edited a Japanese version of the Catechism and a translation
of the Credo. Unfortunately, in the course of time the Prince of Satsuma
was much offended by certain Portuguese sailors, who, probably on
account of the obstacles they encountered in the attempt, refused to
land in his dominions, and betook themselves and their merchandise
further on to those of his rivals. Greatly annoyed at their behaviour,
the prince now ordered the missionaries to quit his dominions. St.
Francis obeyed and proceeded to the capital of the Prince of Bungo, who
was highly delighted to see him, and assisted him in a number of ways to
found churches and missions, so that when the great missionary left
Japan in 1551, Christianity was fairly established in the country.
Presently Japan was inundated with Portuguese missionaries, sailors, and
merchants. The Japanese, with an eye as much to business as to social
improvement, encouraged this influx of strangers in the hope of its
leading to a profitable commerce being established between the two
countries. The Jesuits, too, whose influence the Japanese quickly
recognised, were treated with the utmost cordiality and respect. So
great was the Japanese power of assimilation, that Mendez Pinto tells us
that, having made a present of an arquebus to the Prince of Tanegashima,
that potentate caused it to be imitated, and very soon afterwards the
navigator was shown six weapons exactly like his own. A few months later
there were 30,000 distributed in the province of Bungo, and 300,000
throughout the country. These figures may be taken with a grain of salt;
nevertheless, there must have been a very firm foundation for the story.
In 1582, forty years after the arrival of the Portuguese, artillery
played a great part in the Battle of Shigutake, one of Hideyoshi’s
greatest victories.
Whether material or spiritual motives were at the bottom of the rapid
progress made by Christianity at this period it would be difficult to
say. Princes, literary men, priests, even Buddhists, rich and poor
alike, presented themselves in hundreds to receive baptism, and even
Nobunaga, if he did not actually profess the new religion, at any rate
favoured its propaganda. At the time of his death in 1582 there were
fully 600,000 converts in the centre and the south of Japan; half the
daimios in the island of Kiu-Siu had embraced Christianity, together
with the greater part of their subjects; the Prince of Tosa, in the
island of Sikokou, and many daimios in the centre and west of the great
island had also been baptized. There were not less than 200 churches,
some of which were even situated in the capital of the Empire. In
Nagasaki, which in 1567 had become the centre of foreign commerce, there
was scarcely a pagan left. In 1582 an embassy, sent to Rome by the
Princes of Bungo, Arima and Omura, was solemnly received by Pope Sixtus
V. It afterwards proceeded on a tour through Portugal, Spain, and Italy.
Although Hideyoshi apparently did not display the same enthusiasm for
Christianity as did his neighbours, nevertheless, their number continued
to increase; and during the last ten years of the sixteenth century it
is believed there were over a million converts to the Roman Church out
of a population of between eight or ten millions, a marvellous record
for fifty years’ missionary labour. Unfortunately, it was not to last
long, although, to be sure, the brief epoch of its success was marked by
a material progress quite as astonishing as the spiritual, for, with the
religion of the Europeans, the Japanese had adopted a great many of
their arts and industries. Tobacco, for instance, began to be
cultivated, and boats built on European models transported Japanese
trade as far afield as the Gulf of Mexico. Strangers could travel from
one end of the country to the other without fear of being molested by
the natives, and St. Francis Xavier had every reason to say that the
‘Japanese nation was the delight of his heart.’ Presently Hideyoshi
became alarmed lest the system of government which he had formulated
might eventually be overthrown through the missionaries and by possible
religious wars occasioned by so abrupt a change in the opinions and
ethics of an entire nation. He feared lest the admission into the
country of so many merchants and missionaries might not be the prelude
to another invasion of a hostile character, resulting in the conquest
and annexation of Japan to some European power or other. It is even said
that a Portuguese captain was sufficiently imprudent to inform Hideyoshi
that the King, his master, had the intention of sending priests into the
dominions of the Mikado with the object of ultimately landing troops,
who, aided by the native Christians, should effect his overthrow.
Whether these words were ever spoken or not is uncertain, but they were
undoubtedly the expression of the thoughts of contemporary European
Sovereigns, a fact which the Japanese soon learnt when they came to be a
little better acquainted with the proceedings of the Portuguese in
India. In a word, the suspicions of the Japanese rulers were awakened,
and even the brilliant services rendered by the Christian General
Konishi could not efface them, and the impression was further increased
by the rivalry which existed between the Jesuits and the Franciscans,
and also between the Portuguese, the Spaniards, the English and the
Dutch, who were perpetually accusing each other of most malevolent
designs. In 1587 Hideyoshi issued an edict ordering all missionaries to
leave Japan within twenty-four days, which, however, remained a
dead-letter until 1597, when it was put into force—in consequence of the
imprudence of the Spanish Franciscans, who began preaching in the open
air, and even in the streets of Kioto, which resulted in a riot and in
seventeen native Christians being put to death at Nagasaki. Ieyas
continued the persecution throughout 1614, as did his son and grandson,
who, between them, contrived to extirpate Christianity in every part of
the Empire before 1638. For years the inhabitants of Nagasaki were
condemned to trample upon the Crucifix in the presence of the
authorities, and even as late as 1868 placards were still to be seen
stuck up in the streets offering rewards for the denunciation of members
of the ‘forbidden, lying, and corrupt sect.’
The immediate result of this persecution, which was extremely severe,
was the exclusion from Japan of all outside influence, for the foreigner
and Christianity had become in the eyes of the Government a moral,
social, as well as political dissolvent. The evil conduct of the
European sailors, who, even according to the statement of the
missionaries themselves, had carried off women and children in great
numbers, to sell into slavery at Manila or Macao, and their dissolute
behaviour generally, cast opprobrium upon the religion which they
professed, and thus it came to pass that the Japanese accused the
Christians of not practising the ethics they taught, but, on the
contrary, of giving a bad example by their disrespect to parents,
superiors, and to all in authority.
In 1609 and 1611 Ieyas granted the Dutch the right of trading all over
the island, but his son, Hidetada, being suspicious of their good
intentions, closed all harbours to them, excepting those of Hirado and
Nagasaki in the island of Kiu-Siu, and, furthermore, prohibited the
Japanese from leaving their country under any pretext. From 1637 the
Dutch and the Chinese alone were authorized to trade in Japanese waters,
and then only through the port of Nagasaki. Confined within the narrow
limits of the island of Deshima, condemned to submit to the most abject
humiliations, and never allowed to go ashore excepting once a year on a
special mission to Yedo, when they conveyed presents to the Shogun,
before whom they had to crawl upon their hands and knees, the agents of
the Dutch East India Company entertained with Japan commercial relations
of the scantiest kind. With this sole exception, Japan, which had acted
in so liberal a manner towards foreigners, became in a short time a
sealed book to the outer world.
CHAPTER II
JAPAN AND THE REVOLUTION OF 1868
Progress demoralized in Japan under the Shoguns Tokugawa—Imperial
Court, Mikado and _kuges_, feudal society, Shogun, Daimios,
_samourai_, and people—Foundation of the political régime—Military
preponderance of the Shogun—Seclusion of the Mikado—Divisions
among the Daimios—Exclusion of strangers—Artistic development and
economy—Progress of civilization—Decline of the Shogunate—Position
of Japan in the middle of the nineteenth century—Foreigners begin
to re-enter the country in 1854—Scandal created by the opening of
the ports—The Court and the clans in the south-west provinces
hostile both to Western civilization and the Shoguns—Fall of the
Shogunate—Restoration of the Mikado and introduction of European
civilization.
We have already seen that the Emperor, or Mikado, was deprived of all
authority, and retained only the outward attributes of his Imperial
dignity. He dwelt in his palace of Gosho surrounded by 155 _kuges_, or
noble families, all of whom were descended from the Imperial house, but
whose duties were merely ceremonial. In order to prevent any possibility
on their part of the _kuges_ interfering with him, Ieyas reduced the
Court to absolute poverty. He fixed the civil list of the
Mikado—according to custom, in kind—at 9,000 _kokus_,[15] or 44,550
bushels of rice; as to the _kuges_, many of them lived in the most
straightened circumstances. To still more completely isolate the Mikado
the feudal princes were never on any pretext allowed to enter Kioto.
These princes, or daimios, who were the leaders of the military order,
of whom the Shogun was the chief, were divided into five classes,
according to their precedence and importance: firstly, the three great
Gosanké families, who reigned over the provinces of Owari, Kii and Mito,
and were descended from the three elder sons of Ieyas: they enjoyed the
privilege of electing from amongst their number the Shogun in case of
the failure of direct heirs; secondly, the sixteen _kokushu_ daimios,
whose ancestors possessed their fiefdoms before the elevation of Ieyas,
which he had considerably reduced as a punishment for their having taken
up arms against him, and whose revenues ranged between 750,000 and
5,000,000 bushels; thirdly, the nineteen _kammong_ daimios, who were the
immediate relatives or vassals of the Tokugawas, and descendants of
Ieyas’ favourite generals, among whom he distributed the fiefdoms he had
confiscated from his enemies: they were eventually the chief supporters
of the Shogunate, being, however, not so rich as the above, possessing
only between 50,000 and 1,600,000 bushels of revenue; fourthly, the 88
_tozamma_ daimios; and fifthly, the 110 _foudai_ daimios, who were not
infrequently cadets of one of the two preceding classes. They possessed
an income of at least 50,000 bushels, but rarely more, and their estates
were proportionally small. Nevertheless, there were eight _tozammas_ and
sixteen _foudais_ who enjoyed between them a revenue of 500,000 bushels,
and, who, when united, were sufficiently powerful to be very
troublesome.
Next came the _samourai_, forming about a twentieth of the entire
population of the Empire. They were a distinct military class under the
daimios, and were distinguished by wearing, even in infancy, the two
swords Ieyas called the ‘living soul of the _samourai_.’ Excepting in
one or two principalities at the extreme south, notably at Satsuma, they
were never agriculturists, but, despising all manual labour, lived on
salaries paid by their chief. Exceedingly brave and punctilious in all
points of honour, they were addicted to vendetta, and added to their
other peculiarities the ferocious custom of _hara-kiri_, which obliged
them on the least insult to disembowel themselves with a small sword, an
unpleasant rite into which they were initiated when still very young.
They were ever ready to shed their blood for their prince and
fanatically attached to their clan. It was from them that the troops, as
well as all the minor officials in the various principalities, were
recruited. The _samourai_ were not only military, but literary, and
corresponded to our professional classes, and their opinions only had
the slightest influence on the affairs of the country. When a
_samourai_, for some reason or other, found himself without a master,
either because he had been expelled from his service or his lord had
been deprived by the Shogun of his titles and estates, he sometimes
turned _ronin_, or knight-errant, more often than not a brigand, and
occasionally a redresser of wrongs, but as a rule a fellow capable of
the worst sort of crime as well as of the most heroic acts of chivalry.
In times of trouble these _ronin_ were wont to form themselves into
bands and offer their services to a popular prince, and when accepted,
their opinion and influence sometimes became of considerable weight.
Nineteen-twentieths of the population consisted of the _heimin_, or
commoners. Of this class the peasantry was by far the most numerous and
esteemed. Next came the artisans, then the merchants, for be it
remembered that feudal Japan, like feudal Europe, held trade and
tradesmen in supreme contempt. Finally the two classes of pariahs, the
_eta_, or ‘dirty people,’ who followed the profession of
leather-dressers, tanners, curriers, knackers, grave-diggers, etc., then
the _hinin_ (not men), and the beggars.
Only on certain rare occasions, when a daimio wished to increase the
number of his men-at-arms, and recruited some of his _samourai_ from the
_heimin_, or, again, when a _ronin_, tired of vagabondage, embraced some
trade or other and contrived to lose himself among the people, were the
barriers between class and class ever broken down, and thus society in
Japan remained strictly confined within its narrow boundaries for over
two centuries. Notwithstanding these restrictions, the country enjoyed
during this period a profound peace and great prosperity. Both Ieyas and
Iemitsu understood to perfection how to apply the maxim, ‘Divide in
order to reign,’ whereby they broke up the influence of the daimios,
which, when united, might have proved formidable. This they contrived to
do by isolating them from the Imperial Court, and creating between them
divergences of interest, and by fermenting among them a spirit of hatred
and jealousy. Ieyas had not dared dispossess all his adversaries after
his victory, but he confiscated a part at least of their domains, out of
which he created a number of fiefs, which he distributed among his
allies and soldiers. The descendants of these, the _kammong_ and
_foudai_ princes, being ever at war with the _kokushu_ and the
_tozamma_, obtained protection from the Shoguns by establishing a common
bond of interest, being fully aware that the downfall of the Tokugawas
would be sure to involve their own.
A danger undoubtedly presented itself to the south-east of the Empire,
for here the domains of the _kokushu_ princes of Choshiu, Satsuma and
Hizen and others nearly as powerful formed a continuous line of
territory, and consequently a storm rising in that quarter might have
been fatal to the Shogunate; but so long as these great vassals received
no support from a foreign power, the military preponderance of the
Shogun was safe. This state of affairs eventually gave rise to a
rigorous exclusion of foreigners. Divided among themselves, isolated
from all external influences, deprived of all communication with the
Court, the daimios in due time lost a great deal of influence in their
own principalities. By virtue of the Sankin law, promulgated in 1635 by
Iemitsu, and solemnly ratified by the Mikado, they were compelled to
sojourn at least one year out of two at Yedo, and to leave their women
and children during the following year in that capital as hostages. In
this manner their initiative was enfeebled, and as they were obliged in
great part to leave the administration of their own affairs in the hands
of subordinates, they soon became mere idlers, under the constant
supervision of a swarm of spies, who reported to the Shogun any attempt
on their part to resist his authority, or to conspire against him.
Notwithstanding its many drawbacks, this administrative system, although
it unquestionably weakened the political character of the Japanese, was
in the long-run, by securing a prolonged peace, exceedingly beneficial
to the country, especially as regards the development of art and
literature, and it is from the period of the Tokugawas that dates all
that is finest in Japanese architecture, painting, sculpture,
lacquering, including the temples of Nikko and the noblest specimens of
Satsuma faience. In the meantime civilization had made rapid progress,
and the intellectual influence of China upon Japan was paramount. The
Chinese classics, formerly neglected by the Japanese, were now, thanks
to the initiative of Ieyas, studied with ardour both at the Court of his
successors and at that of the Mikado, and were even publicly taught in
the ever-increasing number of schools. And thus it came to pass that
when the Europeans returned in 1854 they found Japan more completely
under the influence of Chinese art and literature than had their
ancestors in the sixteenth century.
The causes which brought about the revolution of 1868, which resulted in
the suppression of the Shogunate and of feudalism, and in the rapid
introduction of European civilization, were quite as important and as
deeply rooted in the hearts of the people of Japan as were those which
led to the French Revolution in 1789, which, it will be remembered, had
been brewing for a very long time before its eventual outbreak.
Politically, the decadence of the Shogunate commenced in 1652, after the
death of Iemitsu, and especially at the beginning of the eighteenth
century, when the Tokugawas began gradually to decline, precisely as had
done the various dynasties that had preceded them. Surrounded by a
brilliant court and enlightened patrons both of arts and letters, the
Shoguns disdained occupying themselves with public affairs, which they
left in the hands of the Gorogio, a council composed of five _foudai_
daimios and their subordinates. This substitution of a rather effete
bureaucracy for the old but energetic feudal system soon inspired the
great vassals with a hope of being able to overthrow their former
masters. They perceived that it was easy to pick a hole in the Shogunate
from the doctrinal point of view, even in the name of those very
Confucian theories upon which they had the pretension to base their
supremacy. As a matter of fact, although the system of paternal
government extolled by the illustrious Chinese philosopher is by no
means opposed to feudalism, when closely examined into, it shows that
there was no place in it for the Shogunate, since it does not admit of
any intermediary between the father and his children.
At the same time, in the eighteenth century a whole college of literary
men and a distinct school of literature rose, whose principal object was
the study of the ancient texts, to collate, publish, and interpret them,
whereby certain political and religious conclusions were arrived at,
tending to prove that the only legitimate power in Japan was the
autocracy of the Mikado, the descendant of the gods, and the only true
religion Shintoism, and that patriotism, moreover, demanded the
restoration of the ancient political and social organization which had
existed in the Empire long before the introduction of Buddhism,
feudalism, and of Chinese ideas in general. If these theories did not
interest the people, they certainly, and very effectively, created a
breach between the literary classes and the _samourai_, on the one hand,
and the Shogunate and its supporters, who by this time had become not
only unpopular with the productive classes of the nation, but were even
looked upon in the light of a tax, against which the people very
naturally rebelled, failing to see why they should be called upon to
support an idle and otherwise useless caste.
In 1700 the Government, financially embarrassed, was compelled to
diminish the number of charges imposed upon it by the feudal system, and
to increase taxation, whereupon the merchants deemed it prudent to
conceal the exact amount of their fortunes, and the peasants, who paid
their lords a third or a half of their harvests, were not infrequently
ransomed by the _ronin_. Under these circumstances the feudal system
could no longer endure, since it was now brought into contact with a
society richer and better organized than itself, and thus it became
impossible for the Japanese Government to prevent the penetration into
the Empire of European ideas, which filtered through the one port,
Nagasaki, left partially open for the benefit of the Dutch. From the
eighteenth century onwards certain young _samourai_ were always to be
found at this port endeavouring to place themselves in contact with the
Dutch. The Shogun Tzunayoshi (1650–1709) pretended not to notice what
was happening, although his Government was ostentatiously endeavouring
to repress any kind of intercommunication between the natives and
foreigners.
It appears that medicine was the first science which excited the
interest of the youthful Japanese students. They at first managed to
obtain from the Dutch some books, containing anatomical plates, which
both interested and surprised them on account of the great difference
which existed between the figures represented in these works and the
fantastic theories invented by the Chinese doctors. At considerable
risk, for the laws on the subject were extremely severe, they secretly
experimented upon a corpse, in order to compare the results with the
anatomical sketches they had obtained from Europe. This led to their
procuring a Dutch treatise on anatomy, which, with great difficulty,
they translated into Japanese, spending sometimes as much as a whole day
upon a single phrase. Before the end of the eighteenth century several
Dutch-Japanese dictionaries were compiled, and a good many European
works were translated and published privately, and read with all that
ardour which fear of persecution ever engenders.
Before the commencement of the present century these studies produced
practical results, and the country was peppered with furnaces and
windmills built after Dutch models. It led, also, to the introduction of
several novel industries, which were evidently inspired by some occult
European influence. However feeble these beginnings may have been, both
European and modern Japanese writers attach a great importance to this
early initiation of a certain number of able and learned men to at least
one of the languages, and to some of the sciences of the West. It
prepared the way for many ardent advocates of European civilization to
influence the Japanese to accept European ideas. This was the impression
conveyed to me at Tokio by that very able gentleman Mr. Fukuzawa, the
editor of the most important newspaper published in Tokio, the _Jiji
Shimpo_, or ‘Times,’ who is also founder and director of one of the
largest free schools in Japan. He himself had studied Dutch between 1840
and 1850, when quite a young man, and showed me a book translated from
the Dutch and published in Tokio in 1770. ‘The days,’ said he, ‘of the
old régime in Japan were counted when in 1854 the Americans forced my
country to open her ports, and the Shogunate, which had become
exceedingly unpopular, undermined on all sides, crumbled to the dust.’
The situation of Japan in the middle of the nineteenth century was
therefore not unlike that of France on the eve of the Revolution; but,
fortunately, above the honeycombed Government, doomed to fall at the
first serious outbreak of popular displeasure, Japan possessed the
Imperial dynasty, a power universally respected, all the more so because
it was so completely exempt from interference in public affairs; towards
it every heart turned in the hour of trouble, and the remarkable reforms
were accepted in its name as proceeding from a Sovereign who ruled by
Divine right. In 1853 an event occurred which more than any other tended
to the overthrow of the Shogunate. An American squadron, consisting of
four men-of-war, under the command of Commodore Perry, appeared in the
Bay of Yedo with the object of presenting a letter from the President of
the United States to the Shogun demanding the conclusion of a treaty of
commerce and the opening of the ports. It was in vain that the Bakufu
(the Government of Yedo) tried to induce the Commodore to proceed to
Nagasaki and to employ the mediation of the Dutch and Chinese. Perry
replied that he would only accord a few months for the delivery of the
answer he demanded, and promised to return and fetch it in the following
year. The Government of Yedo was taken by surprise, and feeling that it
was impossible to resist the importunate and imperative strangers, and
alarmed at the grave consequences which might result from the opening
out of the country, addressed a circular to the daimios detailing the
facts and asking their advice. Some of them suggested the opening of
only one or two ports for a limited time, say three or four years, as an
experiment, but the greater number—Prince Mito, chief of the house of
Tokugawa, at their head—were of a contrary opinion, and counselled that
no concession should be granted, and that the country should forthwith
arm itself and prepare for resistance. Nevertheless, when Perry returned
some time afterwards, a treaty was signed permitting the opening of the
two ports of Shimoda and Hakodate, and, moreover, granting permission
for the establishment of an American consulate (1854). This official
took up his residence in 1857, just as France, England, and Russia had
frightened the Shogun by a naval display into granting them like
privileges, which were still further augmented by a new convention
promulgated in 1858.
The prolonged isolation in which the feudal lords of Japan had hitherto
lived had filled them with a horror of all things foreign, so that the
concessions made by the Shogun very naturally produced an extraordinary
fermentation among the military classes, who considered all these
privileges bestowed upon the barbarians as so many outrages to the
national dignity. The Imperial Court was not less scandalized. When the
Mikado first heard of the arrival of so many Westerners on the sacred
soil of Japan, he ordered public prayers to be said at Ise, the most
holy temple in Japan, and presently a secret understanding was arrived
at between the Court of Kioto and the clans in the south-west, who,
although they were perfectly sincere in their detestation of the
strangers, nevertheless thought this incident afforded an excellent
chance for satisfying their hereditary rancour against the Tokugawa and
a possibility of annihilating their power. When confronted by these
dangers, the Shogun endeavoured to shirk his responsibility, and turned
to the Mikado, asking him to confirm the treaties which he had himself
concluded. A statesman of great energy and of progressive tendencies,
Ii-Kammon-no-Kami, now determined to intimidate the Mikado and obtain
from him at any cost the desired signature, which under such
circumstances at another period would have been a mere formality. But
this able man was assassinated in 1860 by the _ronin_, who, in
accordance with Japanese usage, presently published a patriotic
declaration justifying their crime. Needless to say, the Shogun, in his
vain attempt to reconcile both parties, fell to the ground, like the man
in the proverb who sought to seat himself between two stools. The
audacity of his adversaries increased, and the Imperial Court and the
daimios began to interfere without the slightest hesitation in the
affairs of State. In 1862, against all precedent, the Prince of Satsuma,
in going to Yedo, passed by Kioto, and undertook to escort thither a
_kuge_, who was carrying Imperial despatches to the Shogun, and invited
him to appear before the Emperor. The Bakufu now found itself so
absolutely powerless that it was obliged to submit to all demands,
including destitutions and reintegrations of dignitaries, together with
the permission for the daimios to leave Yedo with their families; and
thus was the first step taken towards the ultimate ruin of the
time-honoured Shogunate.
For the first time in two hundred and thirty years a Shogun—a minor—went
up to Kioto in March, 1863, preceded by the Regent. The Mikado left his
palace, and, contrary to secular etiquette, went in solemn state to the
temple of the God of War, where he bestowed the sword of honour upon the
Shogun as the ensign of supreme command with which he was to expel the
barbarians. The Shogun’s second visit to Kioto in 1864, on the other
hand, witnessed his complete abasement; for the Court no longer accepted
his decrees, and refused him any further control over their finances. In
a word, from being master he had now become servant. Amongst those who
immediately surrounded the Emperor, there were still many who revolted
at the idea of his being allowed to occupy himself with the government
of the Empire, and their so doing gave the rebel clans in the south-west
time to reorganize themselves. After a short attempt at revolt, they
soon came to the conclusion that further dissensions would only play
into the hands of their enemies, and from 1865 the majority of the
_samourai_ had joined a general conspiracy which it was hoped would
result in the ruin of the already crumbling Shogunate. Still, the cry of
‘Death to the barbarians!’ was not so easily suppressed, and hatred of
the foreigner remained for some time yet extremely fierce among the
masses. The governing classes, however, who had been brought into
contact with Europe, began to see that it was useless resisting its
power, especially after Kagoshima, the capital of Satsuma, was bombarded
in 1863 by a British squadron as a punishment for the murder of Mr.
Richardson by the Prince’s escort. The daimios and their councils no
longer closed their eyes to the existing condition of affairs, and
recognising the uselessness of resisting Powers which were armed with
such formidable engines of war, they changed their policy as by magic,
loaded the foreigners with honours, opened their ports to them, and even
made preparations to place the Japanese army under the same régime as
that of civilized nations. This conduct was not wholly disinterested,
for they were shrewd enough to perceive the commercial advantages which
might ultimately accrue to them as a reward for their liberality. The
Court followed their example, and two years after having issued an order
to ‘sweep the strangers from the soil of Japan’ as if they were so much
dust, the Emperor ratified the treaties of 1865 at the demand of the
Shogun, who had come to Kioto with 70,000 men to suppress the open
revolt of the Prince of Choshiu.
This struggle between the Tokugawa and a subordinate vassal was their
last and supreme effort to regain power. Unfortunately for them, they
were crushed in the attempt, and their military prestige was for ever
destroyed. The Regent Hitotsubashi, who succeeded the young Shogun, who
died on September 19, entertained no illusions as to the gravity of his
position. He was by this time firmly convinced that it was absolutely
necessary radically to modify the constitution of the country, and
feeling certain that it would be useless any longer to resist so
powerful and popular a wave of progress, he determined to associate
himself with the new ideas, in the hope thereby of preserving some
measure of his family’s former influence. He therefore entreated the
Emperor to summon a council of the principal daimios, who accordingly
assembled at Kioto in 1868, with the result that they one and all
advised the Emperor to allow the centralization of the Government to
take place at once, as being absolutely necessary to the welfare of the
country. The Prince of Tosa, one of the chiefs of the south, addressed a
letter to the Shogun, in which he informed him of the results of the
meeting, and that they had acknowledged the supremacy of the Emperor.
Hitotsubashi, seeing that resistance was of no further avail, sent in
his resignation, which was accepted, with the condition, however, that
he should continue to direct public affairs until after the general
assembly of all the daimios. The southern clans, fearing that the
Tokugawa might still be able to recover their power, made a bold move,
and attempted to seize the person of the Mikado. On January 3, 1868, the
Imperial seal was stolen, and a decree issued handing over the
guardianship of the palace to the _samourai_ of Satsuma, Hizen and Tosa.
On the following day the Shogunate was formally abolished. Hitotsubashi
retired to Osaka with his army, where, trembling lest he might fall into
some trap skilfully prepared by his enemies, and refusing to listen to
any overtures, even the offer of a high position in the new Government,
he marched with his men on Kioto; but the unfortunate Shogun was now
treated as a mere rebel, and when he beheld the troops of the hostile
clans carrying the embroidered standard of the Mikado, he realized that
he was betrayed by his own people, and fled by sea to Yedo, where he
surrendered unconditionally to Prince Arisugawa, commander of the ‘Army
of Punishment,’ The princes of his family were the first to rally round
the Emperor; others of his partisans struggled for a brief time with an
adverse fate, but were finally overcome, and thus a revolution which
began with the cry of ‘Down with the foreigners!’ and was provoked by
the daimios and the _samourai_, the representatives of feudalism,
against the authority of the Shogun, ended in the destruction of
feudalism, and in the definite introduction into Japan of Western
civilization.
Soon afterwards, when the Imperial Court began to better understand
foreign manners and customs, the _kuges_, the more intelligent among
them, from being antagonistic became their staunchest friends and
supporters. Presently the mass of the people, following the lead of
their superiors, enthusiastically accepted the new idea that Japan could
no longer live isolated. Their rulers had the distinct merit of
understanding that in order to become the equal of the Western nations,
if only from the simple point of view of material progress, it would not
suffice for Japan to borrow their cannons and their guns, or even their
military training, an experiment which had signally failed with other
Oriental Powers; but that if Western civilization was to be of the least
good to Japan, it was absolutely necessary to accept it in all its
branches, civil, industrial and commercial, as well as military. The
promoters of the movement, the ministers and agents of the great lords,
had no more interest in maintaining feudalism than had, after the
Revolution, the inferior clergy and squires in the Government of France
before 1789. The first step in the suppression of feudalism was the
abolition of the privileges of the _samourai_, who might, had they been
allowed to retain them, have become troublesome.
In 1876 the carrying of the two swords, their erstwhile distinguishing
insignia, was prohibited. The stipends which they had previously
received from their lords, and of which the State had possessed itself,
were capitalized, and the territorial revenues of the daimios, which
were at first compensated by annual pensions, were transformed in the
same manner. These changes, which were undoubtedly beneficial to the
bulk of the population, nevertheless brought about a great deal of
misery, by throwing a number of people who had hitherto enjoyed all the
privileges of fortune into humble circumstances. The peasantry benefited
most by the new form of Government, and became, without having to pay
anything, in a very short time owners of the land which they had
hitherto only held as tenants, and, moreover, no longer obliged to pay a
tribute to their feudal lords, but only a small tax to the Central
Government. Needless to say, there was considerable resistance on the
part of the two millions of people whom these new laws deprived of
privileges which they had enjoyed for centuries, but these were easily
and speedily suppressed. From 1869, in order further to mark the rupture
between the old and the new order of things, the residence of the
Emperor was transferred from Kioto to Yedo, now known as Tokio. In 1872
the first Japanese railway was opened between the new capital and
Yokohama. The old-fashioned _samourai_ were at first dreadfully
scandalized when they saw the Emperor, against all precedent, driving
about among the lower classes in an open carriage. But the invading wave
was too strong for resistance, and presently a number of _samourai_ of
their own accord, especially in the capital, gave up the custom of
wearing the two swords. Yet another flicker of the old spirit, however,
reappeared in 1877, when the clan of Satsuma rose and endeavoured to
oppose the introduction of so many innovations. This rebellion was
suppressed by Marshal Saigo, who lost his life in the affair, leaving,
however, behind him a name still universally venerated in Japan. In 1889
Viscount Mori, a Japanese statesman of very advanced opinions, was
stabbed by a fanatic on the day of the proclamation of the new
Constitution. At present no one in Japan, be he statesman or simple
citizen, unless, indeed, he chance to be some fanatic or other under the
influence of the Buddhist priests in some out-of-the-way district,
dreams of disturbing the pleasant relations which exist between the
native population and foreigners. After the repression of the rebellion
in Satsuma the new Government was definitively consolidated, and the
country fully launched on the road to complete Europeanization. In 1889
the Parliamentary system was introduced, and we shall presently see with
what success. It is therefore not saying too much to assert, before we
proceed further, that the wonderful revolution which has taken place in
our day in Japan is not ephemeral, and that it has now gone too far to
be in any danger of reaction. It is, moreover, quite in accord with the
antecedents and the intellectual spirit of this remarkable people, and
therefore likely not only to become permanent, but even progressive.
CHAPTER III
MODERN JAPAN
Japan the country of contrasts—The port and town of Nagasaki—The
navigation of the Inland Sea—Junks and steamboats—Yokohama—Its
population and commerce—Tokio—The telephones and electric
lights—The houses and the streets—The people and their
costumes—Means of transport at Tokio—Jinrikishas and tramways.
The moment the traveller enters the harbour of Nagasaki he finds himself
surrounded by the most extraordinary contrasts. In the first place, the
scenery is quite charming: the mountains are a delightful green and are
thickly draped with foliage, from which peep out a number of pretty
little wooden houses, whose windows are replaced by sliding
paper-panels. The sea is dotted with rocky islands covered with those
picturesque Japanese fir-trees whose outline is as varied as it is
graceful. Here and there rise from the water curious little
fishing-sheds, the delight of the amateur photographer, which add
considerably to a landscape which looks for all the world like an
animated picture off a Japanese screen. One can scarcely believe that it
is all real, and certainly not that it was at one time the scene of a
terrible tragedy: yet such it was, for from one of the neighbouring
islands in 1638—yclept Pappenberg—several hundred Christians were cast
into the sea. Presently we see rising in the background a tall chimney
with its streaming cloud of smoke, and the noise of machinery in motion
grating upon our ears reminds us somewhat unpleasantly that modern
civilization has at length penetrated into Japan, and the better to
emphasize this fact, our steamer is presently surrounded by a fleet of
ugly coal-barges, and a sudden turn brings us face to face with the
ships and flags of all nations—British, French, German, Russian, and
American.
On the other side of the bay, in the docks recently constructed by the
Mitsubishi Company, workmen are busy building a 5,000–ton vessel. Not
far distant, on the southern slope of the hill overlooking the town, is
the European quarter, situated in the midst of delightful gardens. The
elegant steeple of the Catholic church rises sharply from among the
pine-trees, and contrasts favourably with the massive and very ugly
building—an eyesore on the pretty scene—that disagreeably emphasizes the
very bad taste of the American missionaries, as also the absolute
tolerance which the Government of the Mikado accords to all
denominations in a country where, not so very long ago, so great was its
exclusiveness that even the shipwrecked were put to a cruel death. As I
gazed upon this charming scene, I could not forbear picturing to myself
how it must have looked fifty years ago when a solitary Dutch vessel
landed its tiny cargo for the benefit of a few foreign merchants
imprisoned in the artificial island of Deshima, the only spot where they
were allowed to live, and even then subjected to many vexatious
humiliations.
In forty-five years Nagasaki has become the chief coaling port on the
Pacific, and as safe for Europeans—perhaps safer—than many a seaport in
Europe itself. Steamers do not remain long at Nagasaki, where they only
touch to coal, but passengers have time to land for a few hours and
visit the town. Happily, the inhabitants have retained their national
costumes, but the men have unfortunately adopted our very ugly headgear,
and flourish in every variety of bowler and yachting hat. In the shops
one soon perceives the march of civilization, for they are full of
articles imported from all parts of the world, as well as others
imitated from European models, improved upon, in the artistic sense, by
the natives. You can buy books by all the leading authors almost as
cheaply as in Paris or London, as well as oil-lamps, gas-stoves,
photographs representing recent Japanese battles with the Chinese,
looking-glasses (which were absolutely unknown in Japan until quite
recently), and little terrestrial globes, the sight of which latter
reminded me of an anecdote related by a missionary when I was in China.
At the beginning of the Chino-Japanese War, the Viceroy of a certain
province asked the Reverend Father to show him where Japan was located,
and he had the pleasure of pointing out to His Excellency, for the first
time in his life, the exact place whence came the warriors with whom his
Government was then at war. The Japanese are very proud of their victory
over their colossal neighbour, and have placed some of the cannon which
they took from her in the principal Shinto temples in the city.
Twelve hours after leaving Nagasaki you pass into the great Inland Sea,
or heart of Japan, to effect an entrance into which in 1863 required the
combined efforts of the fleets of England, France, Holland, and the
United States. Now every great steamer that trades in the Pacific is
free to weigh anchor in this glorious harbour, which, however, is never
open at night on account of the many dangers to navigation in the Strait
of Shimonoseki, which, by the way, is only a mile wide. As we passed
through it, I perceived quite close to the southern shore no less than
six immense steamers, anchored off the port of Moji—rapidly becoming a
rival to Nagasaki—up to which the trains bring coal from the mines
situated some miles inland. On the summit of the long range of hills a
number of huge cannon stationed at intervals testify that the coasts of
Japan are by no means unguarded.
Everything has been done by the Japanese Government to facilitate
navigation in this rather dangerous Inland Sea, which was so
hermetically shut to foreigners a half-century ago. In 1895 there were
over 149 light-houses, built either by the State or the local
authorities, admirably placed at intervals along the coast of Japan, the
majority, of course, being erected along the shores of the Inland Sea,
which, it must be remembered, contains not less than 5,000 islands.
These light-houses are all the more necessary because, although the
scenery of this magnificent expanse of water is very beautiful, the
currents are exceedingly strong and dangerous, and the shoals, moreover,
very numerous. An amazing number of little Japanese steamers of from 80
to 200 tons, and even less, constantly carry passengers to and fro
between the various ports and towns on these innumerable islands.
Mingling among these are still to be seen a few old Japanese junks,
which, however picturesque, are not of much use in these go-ahead days,
and are rapidly disappearing. Their shape is now only retained by a few
fisher-boats. As a matter of fact, it is no longer legal to build
vessels after the old Japanese model, excepting on a small scale, as in
fishing or pleasure boats. Such a decree as this would, in any other
country, have caused some unruly expression of public opinion; but in
Japan it was otherwise, and the people very reasonably accepted a change
for the better in the time-honoured form of their sea-craft. After
twenty-four hours, of which one or two were passed at Kobe, we left the
Inland Sea behind, and almost immediately afterwards beheld for the
first time the peak of the celebrated Fusi-yama volcano, rendered so
famous by Japanese engravers. Twenty-eight hours after leaving Kobe we
entered the harbour of Yokohama, which is within fifty minutes’ rail of
Tokio, the capital.
Yokohama was, before the enfranchising of the ports, a miserable little
fishing village containing about a hundred houses. It was opened to
foreign commerce in 1858 in the place of Shimoda, which was thought to
be badly situated. It is a town of 170,000 inhabitants, having sprung up
after the mushroom fashion hitherto deemed peculiar to America, and is
the third largest port in the Far East, being alone surpassed by
Hong-Kong and Shanghai; but its streets appear much less animated than
those of the last-named ports. The Bund, the principal thoroughfare by
the sea, always seems rather deserted. On the other hand, on the hill
above, to the south of the concession, is the European quarter, which is
full of delightful houses, surrounded by lovely gardens. There are about
1,800 foreigners of various nationalities, exclusive of Chinese, settled
here, a good half being English. The port is very spacious and
commodious, and the biggest ships ever built can anchor quite close up
to the quay. The total value of the exports in 1896 was £6,169,600, the
imports £7,280,400, making a total of £13,450,000, or about half the
foreign commerce of Japan, which, during the same year, reached the very
important figure of £28,500,000.[16] But this brand new town is not
particularly interesting, and the traveller will do well to hurry on to
Tokio.
The capital of Japan is the largest town in Asia, and the seventh in the
world. On December 31, 1895, it was reputed to contain 1,268,930 souls,
and must by this time, owing to the rapid increase of its population,
have attained 1,400,000. It is spread over an enormous space, much
larger than that occupied by Paris. The reason why it covers such an
amazing extent is that everybody lives in his own house, which is never
more than one story high, and then, again, nearly every house has its
little garden. Under these conditions, it is, therefore, not surprising
that such an enormous population requires unlimited space in which to
accommodate itself. Moreover, Tokio contains a great many open spaces,
and, odd to relate, most of these are to be found in the centre of the
town in the neighbourhood of the Imperial Palace. These ‘building
sites,’ if one might so call them, were formerly occupied by the palaces
of the great daimios, the majority of which were surrounded by bastions,
supported on a cyclopean stone wall rising from a deep moat. When the
daimios first received permission to leave Tokio, a few years before the
downfall of the old Government, they retired to their castles in the
provinces, and, at the abolition of the feudal system in 1872, their
lands became, as we have seen, the property of the State. On the site of
several of them immense public buildings have been erected after the
European fashion, among which are the palaces of the various Ministries,
and also the Parliament House; but many other wide, open spaces are
still waiting to be utilized, and, being weed-grown and disorderly,
produce a distinctly dreary effect. The old ramparts, planted with
pine-trees, which surrounded most of them, are still standing, and one,
embracing the immense park of the Imperial Palace, is used as a public
promenade. As you walk along it, and look towards the palace itself, it
is difficult to believe that you are in Japan, everything is so very
European, and on the other side the waste land contains a perfect forest
of telegraph and telephone poles, which affirms, and very forcibly, too,
that our civilization is distinctly the reverse of picturesque.
Telephones, telegraph, electric light, gas, petroleum lamps, etc., are
now as plentifully used in Tokio as they are in any English or American
town. It is most amusing to notice as you pass along the streets, when
the paper screens which form the façade of most of the houses are
removed, the artisans seated at their _tatamis_, working by the light of
an Edison lamp. When they cannot afford electricity or gas, the Japanese
use petroleum exclusively, but not without some considerable risk to the
safety of a city entirely built of wood. Since a Japanese house contains
next door to nothing in the way of furniture, and that even in the
houses of the rich all valuable objects of art are usually kept in an
iron safe, and only exposed on state occasions, a fire does not matter
so much as it would in a London mansion or a Chicago ‘sky-scraper.’ A
few cushions, coverlets, and household utensils, which are to be found
in every house, are soon put outside the doors, so that the inhabitants
have very little to fear, for their house is only one story high, and
the whole façade consists of paper screens, which slide into one another
when required. The only people who really have anything to fear from
fire are the retail merchants, whose shops, of course, are well stocked.
Fires are of very constant occurrence, and people are not at all
surprised to wake up in the morning to hear that some hundred houses
have been burnt down during the night.
The authorities at present avail themselves of fires in order to widen
the streets and improve their sanitary condition. They are now as a rule
much straighter and wider than any to be found in most other Oriental
cities, and even, for the matter of that, in the towns of Southern
Europe, and although they have no side-walks, they are much cleaner than
any you will find in China or Siberia, or, indeed, in most cities of the
United States. Possibly on account of the immense size of the city, they
are nothing like so animated as the streets of Peking or Tien-tsin, and
are much less picturesque than one might have been led to expect, for
the Japanese, both men and women, after they have reached their tenth or
twelfth year dress very plainly in neutral colours, blue, gray and brown
prevailing. The women, however, enliven the scene by their bright-hued
waistbands and huge bows. As to the children, especially on holidays,
they wear the most vivid colours. Sometimes you can trace upon their
tiny persons an entire landscape, and at others enormous bunches of
flowers dashed upon a background of scarlet China crape, which decorate
their exceedingly small figures. Their heads are generally close-shaven
when they are infants, but as they grow older the dignity of age is
marked by that funny zone of stiff black hair which adds so much to the
comical appearance of a Japanese doll. Another peculiarity about these
youngsters is that a smaller one generally hangs on to the back of
another so tightly as to suggest a big barnacle. It is indeed amusing to
watch a little lady of between five and six years of age carrying her
still smaller brother on her back literally from morning to night, never
appearing in the least degree incommoded by what to children of other
nationalities would be a most uncomfortable position. The little boy
accommodates himself to all the various movements his sister may make.
If she tumbles, he tumbles, and if she gets up, up gets he, and it would
really appear as if the younger child formed an integral part of the
elder’s body. European children who are brought up in Japan fall into
this singular habit quite as naturally as the Japanese, who can fall to
sleep in a position which would, one imagine, have kept awake one of the
famous Seven Sleepers of Ephesus.
European costume has undoubtedly made some inroad throughout Japan, but
fortunately not to the extent originally anticipated. Japanese ladies,
who first adopted European fashions with enthusiasm, at present have
nearly returned to the delightful way of dressing invented by their
ancestresses, so that during the three months I spent in Japan I only
once saw a Japanese lady dressed _à la Parisienne_. The European costume
is now only to be seen at Court on state occasions, where, it should be
observed, the old Japanese Court dress was not only very ugly and
extremely heavy, but most uncomfortable. A few years ago an order was
given that all the officials, little and great, should wear, when on
duty, frock-coats and straight trousers, but this edict is no longer in
force. Nevertheless, it has become the fashion for Japanese officials of
rank to attend their offices in European costume, but here again there
are already exceptions. English hats of all sorts and shapes, Tyrolese,
bowler, sailor hats, and German caps, are universally worn by men in
every class. Some young gentlemen, with pretensions to fashion, are
adopting the tailor-made garments of Bond Street and the Rue de la Paix,
and although this is regrettable from the æsthetic point of view, it
must be conceded that our dress is much better adapted for the
exigencies of our modern life than the loose, long-sleeved garments of
the Japanese.
The _kago_, or palanquin, has absolutely disappeared from Tokio, and is
now only to be found in the mountain districts, its place having been
taken by the jinrikisha. It is now so well known in Europe, thanks to
Japanese exhibitions, that all I need say is that it is a very small
carriage supported by two very tall wheels, and pulled along by a
runner. The jinrikisha is not, as many imagine, of Japanese origin, but
due to the inventive genius of a foreigner, who made a fortune out of
his invention. It is now used throughout the whole of the Far East; but
Japan remains the land of its predilection, mainly on account of the
extraordinary swiftness and skill of the native runners, who are
unsurpassed in this respect in any other part of the East. There are at
the present moment about 200,000 of these quaint vehicles in various
parts of the Empire, of which about 40,000 are in Tokio. As a rule they
can only seat one person, but a few are built to convey two passengers,
exclusively Japanese; for the jinrikisha is not yet built that would
accommodate a couple of Europeans, even ladies. The lowest fare is 2½d.;
by the hour, 5d.; and for the half-day, 1s. 3d. These are the prices
exacted from Europeans, but the Japanese pay considerably less.
Independently of the jinrikisha, Tokio possesses a few omnibuses, and a
line of tramways uniting the two stations of Shimbashi, the terminus of
the Western, and Uyeno, that of the Northern Railway. The extreme length
of this tramway is nine miles, and the fare is 1½d. all the way. The
tramcars are driven by horses, and the number of seats is not limited,
people being allowed to stand up in the middle as in the United States.
In 1895 the company conveyed fifteen million and a half passengers,
paying a return of thirty-five per cent. on a capital of about £45,000.
An electric tramway is now under consideration. One improvement Tokio
certainly stands in need of, and that regards its lighting. Here and
there you may come across an electric lamp or so; but the principal
street illumination invariably proceeds from those big Chinese lanterns,
lighted by petroleum lamps, which hang outside the shops, which,
fortunately, remain open until quite late; but when the shutters are up
in most of the wooden houses one passes by, the darkness is quite
Egyptian, unless, indeed, it happens to be a moonlight night. Doubtless,
in the course of a very little time, Tokio will be as well lighted as
any other highly-civilized city.
CHAPTER IV
JAPANESE INDUSTRY
Japan the Great Britain of the Far East—Osaka, the centre of Japanese
industry—Great and small industries—Increase of certain industries
hitherto unknown in Japan: glass and match manufactories,
breweries, etc.—Employment of children—Scale of wages—Length of
labour hours—Cotton-spinning—The larger industries—Recruiting of
workmen and women from the rural districts—Abuses denounced by the
press—Increase of wages throughout Japan.
Nothing delights the Japanese more than to hear their Empire compared to
Great Britain, and when we come to think of it there is a certain
analogy between the Archipelago of the Rising Sun in the Far East and
the British Isles in the West; but the Japanese hope that this
resemblance will not end in a mere geographical comparison, but extend
to their maritime, commercial and industrial development. To their
credit, be it said, they are really working very hard to attain their
ideal. One has only to visit Osaka, the Manchester of the Mikado’s
Empire, to realize the amazing progress made by the Japanese in the last
quarter of the century. This city, which has a population of about half
a million souls, is situated midway between Kioto and Kobe, about thirty
miles distant, which respectively contain 340,000 and 150,000
inhabitants. About six and a half miles further on is yet another
industrial centre, Sakai, with a population of 50,000. This region,
which slopes gradually to the Inland Sea, may be described as the heart
of Japan, being its main centre of commercial, agricultural and
industrial activity, and it is the chief tea-market of the Empire. It
was also until 1869 near the political centre; for Kioto was from the
end of the eighth century the capital of the Mikados, who removed their
Court thither from Nara, where they had previously resided for several
centuries.
Industries on a large scale have only been recently introduced into
Japan, among the earliest being that of cotton-spinning, established in
Osaka in 1882. Before the arrival of the Europeans, and even up to 1880,
nearly all the minor trade of the country was divided up into a number
of small workshops scattered all over the country. A few large silk
manufactories existed, however, in the more important towns, and at
Kioto there were some fairly important paper factories, and
_saké_-distilleries (wine made from rice); but these were not numerous,
and only engaged a very few hands. The official statistics for 1894
disclose the existence of 4,732 families manufacturing the various
ceramic products for which Japan is famous, employing about 23,726
people; 4,407 families, giving employment to 14,092 artisans, engaged in
the manufacture of lacquer-ware; 81,652 matting and straw-plaiting
factories; and lastly 600,444 families working 820,585 looms. From this
we see that what might be termed the minor industries of the country are
very numerously represented. In these small and independent workshops
are produced all those numerous Japanese articles that enjoy a European
popularity which they are not likely to lose for a very long time to
come, Japan having a monopoly in the production of an infinite number of
toys, articles of furniture, paper fans, umbrellas, boxes, screens, and
knick-knacks of every description; and it is fortunate it is so, on
account of the density of the rural population, and the exceeding
smallness of the farms, which are easily cultivated, leaving their
proprietors a great deal of leisure on their hands, which they wisely
employ in making those countless pretty things that in Europe go by the
name of ‘Japanese fancy goods.’ These small workshops now carry on
nearly all the art industries of the country, but no Japanese city is
now without its tall chimneys, rising quite as conspicuously and
unpicturesquely in their suburbs as they do in Europe.
Northward of the cyclopean stone ramparts of the old castle of Osaka
stands the enormous Mint, one of the finest establishments of the sort
in the world, to the east of which is the Arsenal, where the Japanese
turn out all the cannon and guns necessary for the use of their army. At
night the horizon is crimson with the ruddy glow of the cotton-mills and
other numerous factories. Most of these industries have only been lately
introduced into the country, and the fathers of many of those who are
engaged in them had no idea even of their existence. The Japanese, for
instance, until quite recently, had no conception of the art of
glass-blowing. To-day there are several very important glass factories
doing a first-class trade at Osaka, glass being now much needed on
account of the prevailing use of petroleum lamps, and many people are
beginning to use glass in place of the paper screens which have hitherto
served the Japanese as windows. Breweries have been established in
various parts of the country, and the principal at Osaka produces
admirable beer, largely exported, even as far as Vladivostok and
Singapore. Brushes of every description, too, are now manufactured in
Japan, and exported in great quantities to the United States. I had the
pleasure of inspecting one of these brush manufactories at Osaka, which
employed 300 men, women and children on the premises, and 900 others in
its various branches in the suburbs. I experienced some little
difficulty at first in gaining admittance on account of my nationality,
and I had even to take an oath that I would not divulge any of the
secrets of the trade. This precaution was due to some fear that I might
possibly introduce their economical system into France, and thereby do
them considerable mischief in the way of competition. A curious fact
connected with this particular trade of brushmaking is, that the
necessary pigs’ bristles and bone have to be imported, for the excellent
reason that St. Anthony’s pet animal is practically non-existent in any
part of the Empire, so that the Japanese confine themselves to carving
the handles for the infinite number of brushes which they manufacture,
and in putting the bristles into the variety of objects that require
them. Osaka likewise contains a number of iron-foundries and ship-yards,
in which nearly all the small steamers which ply between the islands are
constructed. Unfortunately the harbour of Osaka is a very bad one, and,
indeed, might almost be described as non-existent, the entrance to the
river being very sandy, and the exit seaward hopelessly narrow and
exposed to east winds. For this reason the majority of the goods
manufactured at Osaka are exported viâ Kobe, where nearly all the great
English and American steamers touch, and which is an admirable port. The
formation of a large harbour at Osaka was begun in 1899, at a cost of
something like £2,000,000, assured by a loan of £1,700,000, issued by
the town, in addition to a considerable subvention from the State. A new
industry has recently been introduced at Osaka, that of jute
carpet-making, which is likely to become very important, an enormous
number of very cheap and very pretty carpets having already been
exported to the United States and still more recently to England, where,
on account of their excellent patterns, durability and extreme
cheapness, they have suddenly become extremely popular. The present
Exhibition at Paris will no doubt introduce them into France.
The Japanese copper and tin industries have only recently been created,
and at present do not employ more than eighty hands. The silk industries
are entirely concentrated at Kioto. Mats and other straw goods, which
form a very important item of Japanese export, are exclusively made in
and about the same city. Undoubtedly the two most important of the
modern Japanese industries are cotton-spinning and match-making. In
1889, 10,165,000 gross of matches, costing £184,000, were produced. In
1894, the figures stood at 18,721,000 gross, valued at £406,800, since
when this industry has gone on increasing by leaps and bounds. Matches,
as may well be imagined, are very cheap throughout the country, and you
can buy two boxes containing each about sixty for five rin, or a
half-sen, _i.e._, half a farthing.
Nothing can be more interesting than a visit to one of these great match
factories, which exclusively employ women and children, the latter being
sometimes under six years of age. Wages, when compared with those of
Europe, are very trifling, the highest average being 15 sen, or about
3¾d., per diem. Some of the girls get a little more for pasting on the
labels, which requires considerable skill, and the women who put the
matches in the boxes are paid 4½d. Very clever workwomen, who by the
sheer delicacy of their touch are able to tell to a match, without the
trouble of counting them, how many go to a box, are paid 7d. Some
objection has been made to the employment of so many infants, but their
mothers do not seem to object, for in the first place the children add a
farthing or so to the general fund, and in the second they are able to
keep them about them, which no doubt saves them much anxiety. Very few
men are engaged in these match manufactories. The match-boxes are nearly
all made by the workpeople at home in their off-hours, and also in
certain workshops set apart for their manufacture. Japanese matches are
exported in great quantities to Hong-Kong, China and India.
The cotton looms are located in stone buildings erected on Manchester
models, and employ many thousands of hands. The following Custom-house
statistics will give an excellent idea of the progress of this industry:
─────────────────┬─────────────────┬───────────────────────────────────
│ Importation of │ Spun Cotton.
│ Raw Cotton into │
│ Japan. │
─────────────────┼─────────────────┼─────────────────┬─────────────────
〃 │ 〃 │Exportation from │Importation into
│ │ Japan. │ Japan.
─────────────────┼─────────────────┼─────────────────┼─────────────────
│ _Tons._ │ _Tons._ │ _Tons._
1894 │ 64,071│ 2,067│ 9,350
1895 │ 84,739│ 2,362│ 8,661
1896 │ 99,108│ 7,677│ 11,810
1897 (10 months) │ 117,710│ 20,274│ 7,185
─────────────────┴─────────────────┴─────────────────┴─────────────────
From the above it will be remarked that Japan, in a relatively very
short time, from being almost exclusively an importer of cotton goods,
now exports them to foreign markets, and with good results. The
Custom-house declared in 1898 £1,109,600 worth of cotton, or 20,269 tons
of exports, and £734,400, or 7,185 tons of imports. The statistics of
the Japanese Cotton Spinners’ Union record the following figures:
───────────┬───────────┬───────────┬───────────┬───────────┬───────────
│ Mills. │ No. of │ Workmen. │Workwomen. │Production
│ │ Looms. │ │ │ of Spun
│ │ │ │ │ Cotton.
───────────┼───────────┼───────────┼───────────┼───────────┼───────────
│ │ │ │ │ _Tons._
31 Dec.,│ 30│ 227,895│ 4,089│ 10,330│ 18,798
1890│ │ │ │ │
31 Dec.,│ 47│ 580,945│ 9,650│ 31,140│ 68,106
1895│ │ │ │ │
31 Dec.,│ 61│ 839,387│ 13,447│ 43,367│ 97,435
1897│ │ │ │ │
31 Oct.,│ 61│ 1,233,661│ 13,447│ 43,367│ 97,829
1898│ │ │ │ │
───────────┴───────────┴───────────┴───────────┴───────────┴───────────
Nearly half of this cotton is manufactured at Osaka, the rest at Kobe,
and at Okyama, on the Inland Sea, to the west, and at Yokkaichi, Nagoya
and Tokio, to the east. The conclusion of the late Chinese War gave a
great impulse to the cotton industries in Japan, and necessitated the
construction of new and much larger establishments, and the enlargement
of those already in existence, so that it is calculated that before long
over a million and a half looms will be in activity in various parts of
the country. These very important industries, it must be remembered, are
not subsidized by foreign capital, or under the direction of foreigners;
they are purely and absolutely Japanese; up to the present, however,
nearly all the plant has been imported from England and America.
Until 1897 employers of labour had a good deal of trouble in obtaining
workmen. The townspeople, being engaged in a great many small industries
of their own, were not willing to abandon them for work which was not
likely to prove as remunerative as their own; in consequence of this the
country districts had to be ransacked for hands, and nearly all the
girls employed in the factories of Osaka are the daughters of small
farmers. They are lodged and boarded by the various companies in
buildings erected expressly for the purpose, a percentage being deducted
from their wages for their keep. Certain abuses having arisen in their
management, a leading local newspaper, published in English, but really
owned and edited by Japanese, in 1897 called attention to the same in a
series of articles, violently attacking the working organization of the
Osaka cotton-mills. The lodgings of the workwomen were, it was stated,
exceedingly unhealthy; and as to the morals of the women employed, the
less said about them the better. Then, again, the agents who engaged
these young women were accused of doing so under false promises, and it
was said they even went so far as to intercept their correspondence with
their homes. The editor furthermore condemned in the severest terms the
employment of extremely young children.
These articles attracted a great deal of attention, and contained
doubtless a certain amount of truth, not unmingled, however, with
considerable exaggeration. The Japanese employers of labour are, it
should be remarked, after all in very much the same position in which
our own were some fifty or sixty years ago. As to the moral tone of the
workgirls, it is doubtless neither better nor worse than it is in the
great manufacturing centres of Europe and America. At Moscow a
manufacturer informed me that the morals of his workgirls were very bad,
and at Shanghai another gentleman related to me things on the same
subject best left unpublished. The working hours are not longer in Japan
than they were in Europe thirty or forty years ago. They never exceed
twelve hours a day, from which half an hour must be deducted for the
midday meal. Nevertheless, it is excessive, especially when we remember
that the week’s work is divided into two parts, one half the hands
working all night and the other all day, so that the looms are never at
rest. Then they have only two off-days in the month, on the first and
the fifteenth; and there are only four special holidays in the year, the
three first days in the New Year, and the Emperor’s birthday. Even the
first and the fifteenth are not observed if there is a press of work. If
these hours appear too long, it must not be forgotten that the Japanese
workman, like his brother worker in the South of Europe, does not labour
with the intensity that distinguishes the Englishman or the American. As
to the employment of women, they are only engaged in the match
factories, and their work is of the lightest.
Nevertheless, attention in Japan is being directed towards these two
very important questions, which will, doubtless, sooner or later,
receive proper attention and be modified. Wages are already rising, as
the workpeople begin to understand their worth and their own interests,
and to know how to protect them. A danger to which the Japanese
industries are exposed is undoubtedly due to a diminution of capital,
the result of over-production after the late war, which brought about
much the same phase that occurred in the commercial history of Germany
after the Franco-German War. However, the financial crisis of 1898 and
the competition recently created at Shanghai have created a certain
degree of anxiety concerning the immediate future of Japanese industry;
but, on the other hand, the magnificent results obtained in such a
surprisingly short time, and the courageous manner in which this
industrious people have overcome the many difficulties which beset them
in the earlier stages of their career, must not be forgotten.
CHAPTER V
RURAL JAPAN
Predominance of agriculture in the economic existence of
Japan—Density of the rustic population in the plains and lower
valleys—Importance of the Japanese fisheries with respect to the
food supply of the people—Principal crops: rice, tea and
mulberry-trees—Absence of domestic animals—Returns of Japanese
agriculture—Small holdings—Japanese peasantry, their vegetarian
or ichthyophagian diet—Their dwellings—Position of women—Their
extreme cleanliness, politeness and good nature—Cost of
living—Amelioration of peasant life in Japan after the
Restoration—Spread of Western civilization and instruction among
them.
Notwithstanding the rapid industrial development which has recently
taken place in Japan, the greater proportion of the population is still
essentially rural, and derives, if not all, at least the greater part of
its means of subsistence from the soil. Petty industries, however,
abound and materially assist this hard-working people to add to their
very small incomes. Along the indented coasts of the islands, and on the
shores of the Inland Sea, innumerable little villages will be found,
whose inhabitants depend entirely for their subsistence upon the
fisheries, but notwithstanding their importance, Japan may be described
as an essentially agricultural country. It is, also, the cultivation of
the soil which supplies the raw material of the silk, still one of the
staple export industries, and also of another very important article of
exportation, tea. On a total export in 1896 of £11,650,000 worth of
Japanese products, tea represented £637,200, rice £795,100, raw silk
cocoons and silk-ravel £3,166,600. If we add to these figures about
£4,700,000 worth of miscellaneous products, or 14 per cent., and add
also about £1,200,000, or 4 per cent., of raw or unprepared produce, we
shall find that the aggregate value of agricultural products of all
kinds reaches the respectable figure of £5,950,000, more than half that
of the total export. Notwithstanding their importance, the area devoted
to the culture of the tea-plant and the mulberry-tree is relatively
small as compared with that devoted to rice, which is the staple article
of food of the whole of the Far East. The extensive culture of this
latter accounts for the peculiarity often noticed in Japanese
landscapes, that you never see any of those gentle hill-slopes which are
so familiar in France. The hills rise abruptly from the stagnant waters,
and seem cut into three or four broad step-like terraces, possibly the
result of the action of the water which inundates the rice-fields. When
I was in Japan, in the autumn, the rice harvest was just over, and the
country would have looked very dismal on account of the drab colour of
the muddy soil, divided up like a chess-board into regular squares, from
which the rice had been recently cut, and now covered by a thin layer of
dry weeds, had it not been for the peculiarly elegant shapes of
surrounding heights which are shaded by those delightful firs so
familiar to us in old Japanese prints. The lace-like curtains of bamboo
clustering here and there added also to the variety and charm of the
scene, which was further enhanced by the numerous cryptomerias, whose
superb foliage contrasted vividly with the brown and the red of the
maples that are invariably planted around the charming little temples
dotted about in all directions. In the hilly districts the beauty of the
trees breaks the monotony of the rice-fields and of the reclaimed
wastelands, but in the plains and valleys there is not one to be seen,
every inch of land being most carefully cultivated.
The rural population of Japan is marvellously dense, incomparably more
so than in any part of Europe. On an area but little greater than that
of Great Britain and Ireland, Japan contains 42,270,620 inhabitants,
that is to say, 284 souls per square mile, including the large southern
island of Yezo, which is very sparsely peopled. Not taking this very
extensive island into account, it will be safe to state that the
population of Japan is twice as dense as that of France, and only
equalled by that of Belgium, an absolutely industrial country, whereas
at least 80 per cent. of the Japanese live in the country. Certain
provinces, Shiko and Sitama, for instance, to the north-east of Tokio,
respectively boast of 604 and 709 to the square mile, although the
capital cities of these two provinces contain respectively only 26,000
and 20,000 inhabitants. The island of Shikoku and the province of
Kagawa, on the other hand, which possesses only one large town,
Takamatsu, with 34,000 inhabitants, has a population that reaches the
phenomenal figure of 998 souls to every square mile. In only thirty-six
out of forty-six Japanese provinces, exclusive of Yezo, are there less
than 250 inhabitants to the square mile, and in only four, three of
which are at the extreme north and one at the south, is the population
less crowded than in most parts of France. The following statistical
table shows the population, with its relative density:
─────────────────┬─────────────────┬─────────────────┬─────────────────
│ Square miles. │ Population. │ Density per
│ │ │ square mile.
─────────────────┼─────────────────┼─────────────────┼─────────────────
Nippon, Northern │ 30,556│ 6,455,287│ 191
Nippon, Central │ 37,028│ 16,368,995│ 442
Nippon, Western │ 20,922│ 9,523,168│ 453
Island of Shikoku│ 7,113│ 2,929,639│ 412
Island of Kiu-Siu│ 17,037│ 6,524,024│ 384
Hokkaido, or Yezo│ 36,734│ 469,507│ 13
─────────────────┼─────────────────┼─────────────────┼─────────────────
│ 149,390│ 42,270,620│ 316
Formosa │ 8,995│ 2,041,809│ 228
─────────────────┼─────────────────┼─────────────────┼─────────────────
│ 158,385│ 44,312,429│ 272
─────────────────┴─────────────────┴─────────────────┴─────────────────
Even more remarkable than the population is the small area of cultivated
land required to support such an immense number of people. Japan is an
extremely mountainous country, and although the plains and valleys,
especially in the east and south, are admirably cultivated, and the
rice-fields occasionally cover hills that slope so close to the sea as
not to allow of the existence of even a small fringe of cultivable land,
the mountain ranges in the interior are still covered with forests, and
even the northern part of the great island, where the land is excellent,
is quite uncultivated. According to recent statistics, about one-fifth
of the total surface of the country has been reclaimed and subdivided
into a remarkable number of small farms and tenements. The forest lands,
on the other hand, cover 88,632 square miles, of which 28,544 square
miles belong to private owners, 51,834 square miles to the State or to
the various provinces, and 8,254 square miles are Crown lands. The
remainder of the island is occupied by moors, uncultivated tracts of
land, extremely extensive in Yezo, where the forests are of vast extent,
and where only 1,269 square miles of land repay cultivation. If we leave
aside the northern island, and only take into consideration the land
occupied by 99 per cent. of the Japanese population, we discover that,
exclusive of 67,571 square miles of forest land, only 21,234 square
miles provide food for 42,000,000 people, whereas in France there are
about 56,917 square miles devoted to cereals alone, and if we add
potatoes, vineyards and other edibles, we arrive at a total of 75,889
square miles for a population much inferior to that of Japan; moreover,
France imports provisions very largely from other countries.
In England and in France, as in most other European countries, very
extensive and superior pasture lands are set aside for the forage of
domestic animals intended for food. In Japan there is nothing of the
sort. On the highroads you will meet peasants dragging their own carts
and waggons, and if you travel by any other means than the railway, it
will be in a jinrikisha hurried along by human runners, or in a
palanquin carried on men’s shoulders, rarely, if ever, in a carriage or
on horseback. Sheep and goats are absolutely unknown in the Empire, but
I am assured there are a few pigs, although I never saw any. A European
who had lived many years in Japan assured me he had travelled for twelve
hours by rail without seeing a bullock or a cow; in the west, however, I
myself have often met with cattle. The scarcity of animals is one of the
peculiarities of Japan which most surprises the traveller. Statistics
confirm this impression, for they give only a return of 1,097,000 head
of cattle and 1,477,000 horses.
Doubtless this singularity may be attributed to the predominance of the
Buddhist religion, which prohibits the eating of flesh, notwithstanding
which the Japanese are not above relishing a fowl, although poultry is
nothing like as abundant as it is in our villages. The very great
quantity of fish eaten doubtless accounts for this enormous population
being able to exist in so mountainous a country on such an abstemious
diet. The various fishing industries for 1894 returned produce valued at
£2,740,000. We have already mentioned the countless fishing villages
which send out a fleet of not less than 600,000 of those graceful
one-sailed junks that sometimes seriously impede the progress of the
numerous steamers in the Inland Sea. The secondary and very rocky island
of Awaju does not contain a single town, but nevertheless can boast of a
population of 198,000 inhabitants, spread over an area of only 220
square miles, subsisting entirely on its fishing industries.
The importance of the fisheries does not prevent Japanese agriculture
from taking a foremost position, and it must be admitted that farming
must have reached a high degree of perfection if the limited space
allotted to it can support such a dense population, a fact all the more
remarkable when we remember that Japan imports very few articles of
food. It is true that in many places there are two crops yearly,
although rice has only two harvests in the southern island of Shokoku;
in many other places, in November, as soon as this has been gathered,
the earth is manured again and sown with barley, or _daikon_, a kind of
monster turnip. The following statistics of 1895, which give the extent
of cultivated land and the nature of the various products, will serve to
illustrate how relatively great these are when compared with the area of
land in cultivation.
─────────────────┬─────────────────┬───────────────────────────────────
│ Area in Acres. │ Produce.
─────────────────┼─────────────────┼───────────────────────────────────
Rice │ 6,821,694│ 195,612,321 bshls.
Barley │ 1,600,632│ 33,830,173 〃
Rye │ 1,649,390│ 34,377,074 〃
Wheat │ 1,096,257│ 19,470,855 〃
Peas and azuki │ 1,318,779│ 17,701,808 〃
Millet │ 848,282│ 18,633,157 〃
Buckwheat │ 422,928│ 5,891,613 〃
Sweet potatoes │ 586,478│ 1,865,709 cwts.
Potatoes │ 56,727│ 18,598,076 〃
Colza │ 374,072│ 4,932,246 bshls.
Cotton │ 148,649│ 471,978 cwts.
Hemp │ 51,431│ 102,967 〃
Indigo │ 114,999│ 579,298 〃
Tobacco │ 88,185│ 279,870 〃
Mulberry-trees │ 675,972│ 279,870 〃
Tea │ 123,404│ 635,979 〃
─────────────────┴─────────────────┴───────────────────────────────────
The absence of domestic animals obliges the Japanese to have recourse to
novel methods of manuring the land. The rice-fields are strewn with
green grass, freshly cut in openings in the forests and on the mountain
sides, which, when covered with muddy water, speedily decomposes; to
this lime is sometimes added. Excrements of all kinds are also largely
employed in all fields except those devoted to the cultivation of rice,
and along the coast-line fish manure is much used.
Everywhere, excepting in Yezo, the cultivation of rice preponderates,
especially in the northern part of the principal island, mainly because
the climate is elsewhere too cold to allow of any other crop being sown
during the winter and spring. Barley and wheat are grown mainly in the
centre of the great island of Nippon, rye in the western parts of the
same island, and also in the two southern islands of Shikoku and
Kiu-Siu, the last-named of which produces sweet potatoes in abundance.
These were originally imported from Java to Satsuma, and are still
called _Satsuma-imo_, or Satsuma potatoes. Tobacco, which was introduced
by the Portuguese in the sixteenth century, and which is universally
used all over the islands, being one of the few customs the Japanese
have retained from their first contact with Europeans, is cultivated
everywhere, except, perhaps, in the north. The mulberry-tree grows
exclusively in the mountainous regions of the centre, and only in very
small quantities in the north. Tea will be met with, on the other hand,
only in the plains, and at the foot of the lower ranges of hills. From
the windows of the train which passes from Tokio to Kioto, and
principally in the environs of this last-named town, as also of Osaka
and Nara, one sees extensive tea-plantations lifting their deep, green
foliage from the rice-fields.
As may well be imagined, owing to the smallness of his tenement, the
Japanese peasant is by no means rich, and has to live on very little. In
the plains he subsists mainly on rice boiled in water, precisely as do
the workpeople in the towns, a little fish seasoned with _soy_, or
Japanese sauce, flavours this very simple menu, which also includes a
few eggs, and occasionally a chicken, a little game, or a wild duck. In
the mountains, where the people are very poor, and rice is considered a
luxury, barley and millet are sometimes substituted. The fisher-folk
replace this almost exclusively vegetarian diet by the produce of their
work. Even among well-off people in the towns the principal dish at
dinner consists of boiled rice. During meals the usual drink is hot
_saké_, which the guests offer each other in little cups with a good
deal of polite ceremony. This very weak form of brandy is distilled from
rice, and about 150,000,000 gallons of it are consumed annually. The
other great Japanese drink is green tea.
The Japanese peasantry usually live in small villages, separated from
each other only by a few hundred yards. Sometimes, however, their houses
are built in little groups of four or five, but it is extremely rare to
find a peasant’s cottage quite isolated. Nothing can exceed the
simplicity of the construction of these habitations, which only differ
from those of the townspeople by their lofty and heavy thatched roofs,
which usually contain a granary, and are supported by very stout wooden
pillars, rising from a heap of stones placed on the bare ground, without
any attempt at a foundation. Those walls only which support the gable
are solidly built with clay kept together by a bamboo lattice. The two
principal façades stand back about a yard inside the pillars, and
consist of paper screens which slide backwards and forwards. At night,
or in stormy weather, these screens are replaced by wooden shutters. The
whole front is thrown wide open when the weather is fine or there is a
ray of sunshine, so that passers-by may have a full view of the
interior. It is this curious fashion of living in public which most
strikes the traveller who arrives in Japan from China, where you cannot
even see what is going on in the outer courtyard, and is one of the
chief characteristics that differentiate the Japanese from all other
Orientals. Another very striking feature is the scrupulous cleanliness
which reigns in these dwellings, whose only furniture are _tatamis_, or
thick straw mats, which cover the floor of the whole house, excepting a
space immediately opposite the door where visitors are expected to leave
their boots and slippers.
The total absence of furniture, added to an equal lack of heating
apparatus and to the non-existence of any means of shutting out cold and
draughts, at first gives one an impression of extreme discomfort, but it
must not be forgotten that when the Japanese adopted Chinese
civilization they rejected three things: chairs, coverlets, and stoves.
The Imperial palaces at Kioto would make one of our humblest cottages,
so far as furniture is concerned, appear quite luxurious. At Hirashima,
a town of 100,000 inhabitants, the principal hotel is kept by a
Japanese, and although lighted by electricity and possessing a
telephone, the guests are expected to sit upon the floor, and only to
warm the tips of their fingers at the two or three little scraps of
burning embers in the _hibachi_, and in the morning, although it may be
freezing, they have to perform their toilet in the open courtyard. When
I was in this city I visited the house occupied by the Emperor during
the Chinese War, and was shown his study, which contained merely an
arm-chair, a few other chairs, and by way of stove only a _hibachi_, of
exquisite workmanship, it is true—black lacquer worked over with gold.
The emptiness of a Japanese peasant’s home is, therefore, no sign of
extreme poverty, and although we may describe him as poor, as his
capital is extremely small, there is no reason to describe him as
destitute. In summer he is dressed as lightly as possible, and in winter
as warmly, always in deep blue, in contrast to the light blue affected
by the Chinese. The men wear a pair of trousers, or rather a
tight-fitting pair of drawers that reach to the ankles, and an ample
vest with pagoda sleeves. The women, on the other hand, wear one or two
skirts reaching half-way down their legs, and gaiters or stockings
without feet, the whole made of cotton or dark-blue linen and joining
the _tabi_, or little shoe, which ascends above the ankle.
Japanese women enjoy greater freedom than any other women outside
Europe. They may come and go wherever and whenever they like, and
chatter with whom they choose. Whereas in China you never see a woman in
a tavern, in Japan you very frequently see only women. At an inn you are
always received by the wife of your host and by a whole troop of young
girls, who serve you, and keep you company. The women, when they have
finished their household duties, which are very slight, share with the
men the labour in the fields; and I remember seeing in the neighbourhood
of Kioto a woman with a child on her back helping her husband to drag a
waggon along. One is astonished to perceive with what persistent
good-humour these small but very hardy people perform their very heavy
work. In the midst of the trying labours of the rice-fields, with their
feet benumbed by the cold mud during the harvest, which is gathered in
November, they are invariably gay and happy. Doubtless that which
contributes most to their cheerfulness is the fact that they are far
ahead of the corresponding class in any other country in the matter of
artistic instinct. There are very few of them but preserve some
curiosity in bronze or lacquer, which has been handed down by ancestors,
and which, of all the scanty heirlooms, is the one thing most valued.
They are, moreover, passionately fond of nature.
Every season of the year has its flowers, wild or cultivated, from the
plum-trees in February to the deep, red-leaved maples in November, and
every district has some particular spot celebrated for the beauty and
abundance of this or that flower. Thither the whole neighbourhood goes
in gay crowds to enjoy and admire them. In that season of the year when
they have less to do, the peasants, who are indefatigable walkers, under
the pretext of a pilgrimage, go incredible distances to visit some
beautiful site, or a famous temple, usually surrounded by magnificent
trees. Then, again, their domestic industries supply them with a great
deal of light work, which tends to render their existence less
monotonous than it otherwise might be. In order to give my readers an
idea of the cost of living in Japan, I copy from the _Japan Times_ the
following table of the expenses of the family of a schoolmaster in the
province of Rikuzen, in the north of the principal island.
EXPENSES FOR THREE PERSONS—HUSBAND, WIFE, AND INFANT OF FROM SIX TO
SEVEN YEARS OF AGE.
│ £ │_s._│_d._
3 _to_ (1 _to_ = 4 gallons) 3rd quality rice │ 0│ 9│ 2
Vegetables and fish │ 0│ 3│ 0
House linen │ 0│ 3│ 0
Rent of house │ 0│ 1│ 7½
Lighting and heating │ 0│ 1│ 6
3 _sho_ (1 _sho_ = ⅖ gallon) 2nd quality soy (sauce) │ 0│ 0│ 10½
Tea │ 0│ 0│ 7
Writing materials │ 0│ 0│ 7
Education of child │ 0│ 0│ 5
Baths every three days │ 0│ 0│ 5
Taxes │ 0│ 0│ 3½
Footgear │ 0│ 0│ 3½
Extras │ 0│ 0│ 11
│ ———│ ———│ ———
Total │ 1│ 2│ 8
│ ===│ ===│ ===
Or, in other words, about £1 3s. for the month. To this must be added £1
10s. a year for clothing, making a total of £15 2s. for the year. These
figures were compiled in 1897, when the price of provisions had
considerably increased. It must, however, be stated that they exceeded
the salary of the unfortunate teacher, which has not been raised, and is
only £1 a month.
The peasantry have certainly benefited by the abolition of the old form
of government, and Western civilization is even now commencing to
penetrate among them. They light their dwellings with petroleum, and,
although their notions of the value of time are exceedingly simple,
nearly all of them possess a watch or a clock. Most have adopted
European caps or hats, and none of the men shave their heads as they did
in olden times; moreover, they never express the least opposition to the
encroachments of modern civilization, but, on the contrary, invariably
display curiosity and a great desire to try experiments. Public
education is theoretically obligatory, and about 80 per cent. of the
boys and 40 per cent. of the girls attend schools, where they are taught
to read and to write about 100 Chinese characters, as well as the two
syllabic Japanese alphabets, in addition to one or two other general
things. The schoolmasters, having been too hastily recruited, may have
been educated too much on the old-fashioned Chinese lines; but,
nevertheless, modern ideas are making headway, and in the course of time
will undoubtedly carry the field.
The Japanese people, even in the country, are definitely on the road to
progress. It would be unwise to change everything from the night to the
morning as by the touch of a magician’s wand, but undoubtedly the first
impulse has been given, and has met with no resistance. From the
agricultural point of view, there can be no question that the Japanese
have much to learn, not so much with respect to those products which
they already cultivate, but to the introduction of others besides the
all-prevalent rice. These reforms will be very difficult to bring about,
for the obvious reason that the small farmers only accept changes with
extreme caution; but in the course of time they will have to be
introduced, especially when we reflect that the population of Japan
increases at the rate of 300,000 souls per annum, and the extent of
territory which has been reclaimed and is in cultivation is so small in
proportion to the density of the population.
CHAPTER VI
DEVELOPMENT OF JAPANESE COMMERCE
Progress of Japanese commerce in the last fifteen years—Remarkable
increase of exports and of the importation of raw
material—Importation of capital in the form of machinery for
native manufactories—Countries interested in Japanese
commerce—Japanese merchants accused of occasionally producing
inferior articles and not fulfilling their contracts—The reasons
for the excess of imports over exports in the years 1894–98.
Nothing can better illustrate the rapid progress made in Japanese
commerce during the last thirty years than the development of her import
and export trade, which is regularly recorded in a pamphlet published by
the Japanese Minister of Finance, both in Japanese and English, entitled
the ‘Monthly Return of the Foreign Trade of the Empire of Japan,’ which
gives the fullest particulars respecting the commercial operations of
the month, as well as a résumé of what has recently transpired. Each
spring a complete volume is issued which supplies further details, and
gives a table showing the commercial status throughout the preceding
year. According to the figures given in this document, which are
extremely accurate, the exports in 1898 attained the unusually high
figure of £16,570,000, and the imports £27,700,000, making a total of
£44,270,000. The following table displays very clearly the prodigious
advance made in Japanese commerce during the thirty years included
between 1868 and 1898.
The figures in the original document are, of course, given in Japanese
currency, but, for the convenience of English readers, they are here
rendered by their equivalent in English money, taking the yen at two
shillings, the rate it has held for a considerable time past.
JAPANESE FOREIGN COMMERCE.
───────────────────────┬───────────────────────┬───────────────────────
│ Imports. │ Exports.
───────────────────────┼───────────────────────┼───────────────────────
1868│ £1,070,000│ £1,550,000
1879│ 3,300,000│ 2,820,000
1884│ 3,220,000│ 3,400,000
1889│ 6,620,000│ 7,020,000
1894│ 12,170,000│ 11,330,000
1895│ 13,870,000│ 13,620,000
1896│ 17,170,000│ 11,780,000
1897│ 21,930,000│ 16,310,000
1898│ 27,700,000│ 16,570,000
───────────────────────┴───────────────────────┴───────────────────────
By studying the statistics published in this official pamphlet, we find
that out of £3,581,200 of indigenous articles exported from Japan in
1883, £2,713,900 were of a purely agricultural character, and only
£242,200 represented articles manufactured in the country. This last
class consisted only of the various articles included among the ancient
art industries of Japan: £54,400 worth of ceramics and pottery, £54,300
of lacquer, £26,100 of paper fans, umbrellas, and fancy goods generally,
etc. The silk industries did not even attain the comparatively low
figure of £9,000. Five years later, in 1888, the situation was entirely
changed. The export of indigenous merchandise exceeded £6,489,100, of
which only 68·6 per cent. instead of 76·4 per cent. represented
agricultural produce, 3 per cent. instead of 3·4 per cent. forestries,
5·2 per cent. instead of 6·7 per cent. of the total amount fisheries; on
the other hand, the various minerals had risen from 6·7 per cent. to
11·2 per cent., and manufactured goods rose from 6·8 per cent. to 11·8
per cent. Japan also exported £350,000 worth of copper and £300,000
worth of coal. The silk manufactories exported silk goods to the extent
of £168,000, and all the art industries, with the sole exception of the
lacquer, which remained stationary, rose very considerably in value. To
these figures must be added the returns of certain other commercial
products of a kind totally unknown in Japan a quarter of a century
ago—matches, for instance, of which £74,000 worth were exported.
A glance at the following figures will show of what the Japanese export
trade during the last three years was composed, and the nature of the
goods.
PRINCIPAL EXPORTS FROM JAPAN IN 1895, 1896, 1897 AND 1898.
───────────────┬────────────┬────────────┬────────────┬────────────
│ 1895. │ 1896. │ 1897. │ 1898.
───────────────┼────────────┼────────────┼────────────┼────────────
Raw silk and │ │ │ │
cocoons │ £4,800,000│ £2,880,000│ £5,560,000│ £4,200,000
Silk ‘ravel’ │ 290,000│ 280,000│ 300,000│ 270,000
Tea │ 820,000│ 640,000│ 780,000│ 820,000
Rice │ 720,000│ 790,000│ 610,000│ 590,000
Camphor │ 150,000│ 110,000│ 130,000│ 120,000
Cuttle-fish │ 100,000│ 110,000│ 140,000│ ?
Coal │ 760,000│ 890,000│ 1,150,000│ 1,520,000
Copper │ 520,000│ 550,000│ 580,000│ 730,000
Tissues and │ │ │ │
silk │ │ │ │
handkerchiefs│ 1,530,000│ 1,200,000│ 1,320,000│ 1,600,000
Sewing cotton │ 100,000│ 400,000│ 1,350,000│ 2,010,000
Spun cotton │ 240,000│ 230,000│ 260,000│ 260,000
Matches │ 470,000│ 500,000│ 560,000│ 630,000
Mats and straw │ │ │ │
goods │ 480,000│ 530,000│ 640,000│ 630,000
Fans and │ │ │ │
screens │ 80,000│ 100,000│ 120,000│ ?
Pottery │ 200,000│ 200,000│ 180,000│ 200,000
───────────────┴────────────┴────────────┴────────────┴────────────
Altogether the chief manufactured articles exported in the year 1895
were valued at £4,000,000; three years later they rose in value to
£6,300,000.
At the present moment goods which were absolutely unknown in Japan in
1850 are exported from that country all over the East from Korea to
Singapore; and Japanese cotton goods, the raw material for which has to
be imported from India, compete with Chinese materials of the same
class, the raw material for which is obtained from the same country.
Needless to say, Japanese silks and mats can be procured in every part
of the world, and their coal, though inferior to the Welsh, being
greasy, emitting great quantities of smoke and burning away quickly, is
very cheap, and is supplied to all the steamers touching at the ports of
the Far East from Korea to the Straits of Malacca. In the meantime,
those industries for which Japan has always been noted have not
diminished in importance. It must, however, be confessed that this
branch of industry has decreased both in quality and beauty, the result,
doubtless, of hasty and purely commercial production. If, however, very
fine work is not produced so much as it was formerly, cheap Japanese
artistic goods, ceramic and otherwise, flood the markets of the
civilized world. A curious fact connected with the actual condition of
Japanese export trade is the remarkable extension and increase in value
of what might be called the new industries, of which by far the most
important are those connected with cotton.
Meanwhile, the import trade has lately been considerably altered.
Fifteen years ago Japan imported sugar and petroleum only. In 1897 raw
cotton was introduced to the value of £4,300,000. If we add to this
£100,000 worth of wool, £93,400 of pig-iron, £47,700 of steel, and one
or two other minor items, we have a return of £5,900,000, or 23 per
cent. of the entire imports; the food imports during the same year were
also 23 per cent. The increase in the value of these latter in 1897,
which stood at £5,900,000 as against £3,400,000 in the previous year, is
due to the failure of the rice crop, which necessitated the importation
of 3,800,000 cwt. of rice, valued at £2,180,000. A certain quantity of
rice, between £400,000 and £800,000 worth, has to be imported annually
from Korea and Indo-China, in order to counterbalance the amount of
Japanese rice of the first quality exported to Europe and the United
States. Besides rice, the import of sugar has reached the high figure of
£1,980,000, and petroleum, of which 61,000,000 gallons were imported in
1897, £766,700.
Imported manufactured goods may be divided into two distinct classes,
the first including articles of domestic use or consumption, and the
second those which tend to extend the various industries of the country,
and which in a sense constitute a certain proportion of capital. In the
first category may be placed spun goods, both cotton and woollen, and
watches; in the second, machinery, wrought iron and steel, rolling-stock
and other materials for the railways.
Woollen industries did not exist in Japan until recently, for the simple
reason that sheep were not introduced until after the opening of the
ports to Europeans. In 1897, woollen goods were imported to the value of
£133,700, and textile fabrics to £1,020,000; while watches, which were
never seen in Japan until 1850, are now in general use, and in 1897,
305,894 of these necessary articles were imported and retailed at an
average of about 12s. each.
The second class of manufactured articles imported into the Empire in
1897 includes £830,000 worth of wrought iron, £1,360,000 of machinery
and boilers, £510,000 of locomotives and railway carriages and trucks,
£330,000 of rails, and £200,000 of other railway stock, _i.e._, 15 per
cent. of the total imports. This rapid development, which compares very
favourably with the two preceding years, 1896 and 1895, is mainly due to
increased activity in railway construction since the Chinese War, and
also to the rapid commercial expansion throughout the Empire.
The following table shows the manner in which Japanese foreign trade was
shared among the various nations in 1896:
─────────────────┬─────────────────┬─────────────────┬─────────────────
│Exportation from │Importation into │ Total.
│ Japan. │ Japan. │
─────────────────┼─────────────────┼─────────────────┼─────────────────
Great Britain │ £900,000│ £5,920,000│ £6,820,000
United States │ 3,150,000│ 1,640,000│ 4,780,000
China │ 1,380,000│ 2,130,000│ 3,510,000
Hong-Kong │ 2,000,000│ 910,000│ 2,970,000
British India │ 450,000│ 2,250,000│ 2,700,000
France │ 1,900,000│ 770,000│ 2,670,000
Germany │ 300,000│ 1,720,000│ 2,020,000
Korea │ 340,000│ 510,000│ 850,000
─────────────────┴─────────────────┴─────────────────┴─────────────────
Japan also carries on a very extensive trade with other countries
besides those above mentioned, among them Switzerland, Asiatic Russia,
Italy, Australia, the Philippines, Cochin China, Canada, etc., but in no
case does it exceed £400,000 annually. The relative high figures of the
business transacted between Japan and Hong-Kong is due to that port
being a centre whence goods are distributed to other countries. One
striking feature of the above table is the preponderance of the trade
between Japan and England, from which country she derives all her cotton
and linen goods, as well as nine-tenths of her machinery and wrought
iron (nails excepted), and more than half of her woollens—in a word, the
immense majority of all the manufactured commodities imported into the
country. Germany sends machinery, cloth, almost all the iron nails,
alcohol, sugar and paper; Belgium and Russia export manufactured
articles into, but take almost nothing from, Japan. The principal French
import is mousseline de laine, valued at £570,000, which is almost a
French monopoly. About a fifth of the goods imported from America
consists of machinery and wrought metals; the rest includes petroleum,
raw cotton, flour and leather. The United States, France, and lastly
Italy, are Japan’s principal customers for raw silk, as well as for her
light spun silks. Five-sixths of the tea grown in Japan goes to America
and the rest to England. China, Korea and India take almost all the
Japanese matches, while the coal will be found distributed along the
whole of the Asiatic Coast of the Pacific. Copper goes to Hong-Kong,
Germany and England, and rice, camphor, matting, straw and art goods are
distributed all over Europe and the United States.
This brilliant picture of Japanese commercial prosperity has,
unfortunately, its shady side. Many complain that the articles
manufactured in Japan are not up to the mark in point of excellence and
finish. As is generally the case with Orientals, they start well and
make their first batch of goods admirably, but the quality soon falls
off, probably the result, not so much of negligence, as of over-hasty
production, due to competition. There can be no question that these and
other complaints are not unfounded, and many intelligent Japanese are
the first to acknowledge and deplore them. As an instance in point,
matches are not nearly so well made as they used to be. Many complaints
have also been made as to the increasing inferiority of a certain class
of silk goods known as _haboutaye_ and of the silk pocket-handkerchiefs,
of which an enormous quantity are exported, with the result that the
exportation of these last-mentioned necessary articles fell from
1,855,000 dozens in 1895, to 1,157,000 in 1897. On the other hand, there
is a distinct increase in the export of _haboutaye_. Nevertheless many
thoughtful people have watched this deterioration in the excellence of
the new Japanese industries with some alarm, and not a few manufacturers
who have had their attention drawn to the matter have already mended
their ways. The same complaint might be made of goods manufactured in
certain parts of Europe, notably in Germany, where cheap and showy
articles are fabricated in superabundance, but Japan would do well to
maintain her reputation as high as possible as a producer of all that is
best in the market.
Still graver is the charge brought against Japanese merchants of
occasional lapses from a high standard of honour, and of availing
themselves of the slightest possible pretext to avoid fulfilling the
letter of their contracts, in which they contrast unfavourably with the
higher class of Chinese merchants, whose reputation for integrity and
for a strict adherence not only to their written, but also to their
verbal promises, is well known, with some degree, possibly, of
exaggeration. It is as well to recall in this connection that the
Japanese were until quite recently a feudal and military people, who
despised trade in all its branches, and those who were engaged in its
pursuit were not considered any the better for being honest. In China,
on the other hand, it has ever been otherwise, the merchants, after the
literati, being looked upon as the most honourable class in the Empire,
whereas the military were invariably despised, being recruited from the
lowest ranks of society. Ideas have certainly been considerably modified
in Japan in the last thirty years; still, the majority of the merchants
are of the same class as their predecessors when they are not their
immediate descendants; therefore, we should not be surprised if they
retain some of their traditions it were better they were without. In a
word, since the Restoration of 1868 the Japanese have done their best to
get rid of the prejudices of feudal times, but although these are fast
disappearing, some of their after-effects still remain.
It has always been extremely difficult to induce Orientals to understand
the value of time, and in this particular the Japanese are still on a
par with their neighbours. Foreign merchants have the greatest
difficulty in persuading their Japanese correspondents that a few days’;
nay, a few hours’ delay in the transaction of business and in the
despatch of goods often leads not only to much inconvenience, but to
absolute loss.
One of the chief desires of the Japanese at the present time is to see
their export commerce pass from the hands of foreigners, who hold it,
into their own; but they may rest assured that until they improve their
business habits they will not succeed in carrying out their object in
this direction.
It has been noticed that during the three years 1896, 1897 and 1898 the
Japanese imports have been immensely in excess of their exports. This is
probably due to the necessity of obtaining plant in great quantities for
the immediate increase of the many new industries that have sprung up
all over the country in so short a time. This financially has
undoubtedly resulted in a distinct loss to the nation. The Chinese War
indemnity brought a good deal of gold into the country, but the greater
part of it has been expended in augmenting the navy and in the purchase
of war materials. Fortunately, trade throughout Japan in 1899 was
distinctly flourishing, thanks mainly to the abundance of the crops in
the preceding year, and also to a curb having been put on exaggerated
industrial activity, whereby, as already intimated, the imports were in
excess of the exports, and the danger of a crisis in this direction was
averted. This extraordinary commercial development in so remarkably
short a period reflects the greatest credit upon the Japanese people,
but we must not expect that it will continue progressing without
encountering occasional checks, and there are not a few thoughtful
people who foresee that the Japanese factories will soon have to compete
very seriously with those which have been recently erected in the free
ports of China. In this respect it may be remarked that salaries have
risen at Shanghai, as well as at Osaka and Tokio. The acquisition of the
island of Formosa will probably before long enable the Japanese to
cultivate cotton and other tropical produce on their own territory,
which will, of course, be a great gain to them.
CHAPTER VII
THE FINANCES OF JAPAN
Flourishing condition of Japanese finance on the eve of the war with
China—Present Japanese financial problem the result of the
important military, naval, and public works undertaken by the
Government at the close of the war—Enormous expense of this
programme, demanding a loan of £24,000,000—Gradual method of
paying off this debt in nine instalments—Impossibility of floating
the loan on the home market, all Japanese capital being locked up
in the various newly-created industries—Debts incurred in
connection with the programme of expansion, whereby the ordinary
Budget was doubled—Progressive scale of taxation from the present
date until 1905—Absolute necessity of augmenting certain
taxes—Projected imposition of increased taxation, especially upon
land and on beers, wines, and spirits—Taxation as compared with
the population of Japan and other countries—Prospects of Japanese
finance.
Before the war with China, Japanese finance was in a most brilliant
condition, and the fiscal year April 1st, 1893, to March 31st, 1894, the
close of which preceded hostilities by only a few months and which is
the last of which accurate accounts have been published, showed a return
of £8,588,300 ordinary and £315,913 extraordinary revenue, making a
total of £8,904,213, as against £8,458,187 expenditure, the surplus
being £446,026, which on a Budget of £10,400,000 was a very creditable
but by no means an exceptional result. As a matter of fact, there had
been only one deficit, that of 1891–92, resulting from the exceptional
expenses incurred by the nation through the disastrous effects of the
earthquake of 1891, one of the most terrible on record even in Japan,
where these dreadful visitations are of very frequent occurrence. The
whole financial tendency of the preceding years is summed up in the
statement that at the beginning of the year 1896–97 £3,900,000, derived
from accumulated surpluses, was at the disposal of the Treasury,
although £2,300,000 had already been withdrawn from this reserve fund to
help in defraying the expenses of the war.
On the other hand, the National Debt at this period was not higher than
£28,350,000, of which £1,570,000 was paper money in circulation. It had
therefore diminished since 1890–91 by £2,300,000, of which £1,450,000
was due to the withdrawal of the paper money. These notes had been
issued at a period when the new regime was not firmly established, the
insurrection at Satsuma still to be suppressed, and the Government
unable to obtain cash, even at a very high rate of interest. In 1881 the
premium upon silver, the standard currency, had risen to 70 per cent.,
thanks to the energy of Count Matsukata, the very able Minister of
Finance. It fell to 9 per cent. by 1884; in 1886 par was reached. The
paper money of the State and the national banks was gradually withdrawn
and replaced by notes of the Bank of Japan, payable at sight. In brief,
if we compare the figures of the Debt and the Budget with those of the
population, 41,500,000, we can only envy the financial situation of
Japan on the eve of the war.
Although the expenses of the Chino-Japanese War, which were partly
covered by the indemnity obtained from China and partly by a public
loan, undoubtedly checked the progressive prosperity of the country,
they had nothing whatever to do with the present financial problem,
which has been created by the magnitude of the military, naval,
industrial, and commercial enterprises undertaken by the Japanese
Government since the close of the war. Between 1895 and 1896 the
Government decided to double the strength of the army, by raising the
number of divisions from six to twelve (exclusive of the Imperial
Guard), and it will now thus muster 150,000, as against 70,000 to 75,000
on a peace footing, and 500,000, instead of from 270,000 to 280,000, in
time of war. The fleet is to be increased from 43 vessels of 78,000
tons, _plus_ 26 torpedo-boats, without a single cruiser, to 67
men-of-war, of which 7 are first-class battleships, with a displacement
of 258,000 tons, besides 11 torpedo-boat destroyers and 115
torpedo-boats. The creation of numerous arsenals and fortifications will
eventually complete the programme, but beyond these War Office expenses,
very considerable sums have been spent in the construction of railways,
extension of telegraph lines, creation of new ports, subventions to the
mercantile marine, and in the establishment of a second University at
Kioto. The plan of railway extension which was decided upon in 1893 by
the Diet must be completed according to contract in 1910. The other
measures for the augmentation of the army and navy were included in the
programme of the Ito Cabinet, which the Chambers accepted immediately
after the signing of peace. This extra expenditure is to be disbursed in
ten instalments from 1896 to 1906, and some further amendments and
additions were made during the Parliamentary Session of 1896–97. The
expenses entailed by these extensive schemes, together with the
railways, are tabulated below:—
Navy and arsenals £22,650,000
Army 8,220,000
Fortifications 940,000
Other military expenses 680,000
Railway construction 7,980,000
Increase and improvement of lines 2,650,000
Telephones 1,280,000
Construction of ports 790,000
Defence against floods 1,970,000
Subventions to banks 2,060,000
Creation of a tobacco monopoly 820,000
Subventions to various industries, commerce, agriculture,
and other public works 1,460,000
———————————
Total £51,500,000
Of this amount £32,495,670 was for War Office expenses, and £19,005,406
was intended for the very extensive commercial enterprises.
In 1893 a loan was voted to be issued as and when required to entirely
cover the expense of the new railway lines. The indemnity was
£30,000,000, _plus_ £4,100,000 as compensation for the retrocession of
the Liao-Tung Peninsula, imposed upon Japan by the Russian, French, and
German Governments. This latter sum, as well as the first instalment,
£7,500,000, of the indemnity was duly paid into the Japanese Treasury on
November 8, 1895; the remainder was to be paid by regular instalments on
May 8 of each year until 1902. China, however, availed herself of a
clause allowing her to pay off the debt at once, and thus escape
interest charges, which she did on May 8, 1898. Japanese statesmen had
anticipated this act of the Chinese Government, and did not count upon
more than £34,100,000. Of this sum £8,000,000 had been debited to the
war account, leaving a balance of £26,100,000. In addition to these
amounts, the Treasury held the accumulated surpluses, which, on April 1,
1896, attained £3,900,000, to which £500,000 must be added as the
surplus in the Budget of 1896–97. The difference between the total of
these receipts and the anticipated expenses was to be balanced by a loan
known as ‘the loan for State enterprises.’ The following table exhibits
the assets for this programme of expansion:
Chinese indemnity[17] £26,100,000
Surpluses of previous Budgets 4,400,000
Railway loan, £7,980,000 21,480,000
Loan for State enterprises, £13,500,000 〃
———————————
Total £51,980,000
===========
The expenses being £51,500,000, there would thus remain a surplus of
nearly £500,000, thanks to the favourable result of the fiscal year
1896–97.
Apart from this financial scheme, however, there was still a war charge
which had not been foreseen. It had at first been believed that the
island of Formosa would be self-supporting, an illusion which was soon
dispelled, and the Government had therefore to grant this new
acquisition for a period of years a subvention from the Imperial
Treasury of about £600,000, to obtain which various receipts officially
described as extraordinary, such as voluntary contributions and
restitutions, sales of State lands, and interest on divers funds had to
be drawn upon. These receipts generally averaged £200,000, and by the
year 1905–6, the time fixed for the conclusion of the expansion
programme, will have furnished between £1,500,000 and £1,800,000; for
the remainder it will be necessary to have recourse to a loan, and
supposing that during this period the subvention of the Japanese Budget
to Formosa, which must necessarily diminish year by year, rises to about
£4,000,000, another loan of between £2,000,000 and £2,500,000 will have
to be raised. Japan would therefore have to borrow about £24,000,000
from 1896–97 to meet the extraordinary expenses she had undertaken. On
the other hand, when these were met, her ordinary Budget still remained
greatly augmented by the necessity of maintaining an army and navy
double what they were before the war.
This being the case, two important questions presented themselves. In
the first place, was it possible to raise without difficulty a loan of
£24,000,000, and from whence was it to be obtained? In the second, was
the country sufficiently rich, once the scheme was executed, to maintain
this increased expenditure, and by what means would it be able to obtain
fresh resources to pay current expenses? The first question contained
the principal difficulty. Not only did Japan need to borrow £24,000,000,
but she had to borrow most of this without loss of time. Naturally, the
Administration decided to carry out with the least possible delay the
essential parts of the programme already determined upon, especially
those connected with the national defence, and the Budgets of 1896,
1897, and 1898 were therefore most heavily charged with the
extraordinary expenses. The extraordinary Budget of the first year
reached £10,300,000, that of the second £14,200,000, that of the third
£6,000,000. In no case, however, could the surpluses of the previous
Budgets and the part already paid out of the indemnity (which was
£20,600,000, of which £8,000,000 had been handed over to the War Office)
have sufficed to provide such large amounts. It was therefore necessary
to borrow in 1896–97 £1,830,000, in 1897–98 £6,880,000, while in 1898–99
a further issue of £4,500,000 had to be made. Now the grave situation
which arose was this: the issues of 1896–97 were readily taken up by the
public, but in 1897–98 only a third of the sum needed could be obtained,
because the conditions of the market were too unfavourable and
disposable capital was lacking. Whereas in the summer of 1897 £4,000,000
of a 5 per cent. Japanese loan was floated on the London market at par,
the Government offered the Japanese people bonds bearing the same
interest at 94, but they were not placed without much difficulty.
All the capital in Japan is locked up either in previously contracted
State loans or in the innumerable commercial enterprises which have
sprung up in the country during the past few years. When we remember
that nine-tenths of the £40,000,000, at which the National Debt stood
after the war, is in Japanese hands, and that it is with their own money
that they have constructed railways and established new industries,
there is no ground for surprise at this lack of ready capital. In view,
however, of the evident impossibility of placing a domestic loan for the
sum required, two alternatives remained: a foreign loan, or a reduction
to more modest proportion of the programme of expansion.
The result of an appeal to foreign capitalists would no doubt have
proved successful if the attractive interest of from 5 to 5¼ per cent.
had been offered. Japan offers excellent security. Her finances have
hitherto been admirably managed, and her liabilities do not appear to be
in excess of the capabilities of her people. Nevertheless, the project
of a foreign loan seems to have met with serious opposition from many
eminent people in Japan, which arose from a twofold cause: first, fear
of compromising the independence of the country by supplying foreigners
with a pretext for interfering in the internal affairs of the Empire, in
case there was any difficulty in fulfilling obligations; and, secondly,
the national pride, which regarded it as humiliating for Japan to become
indebted to Europe. This latter motive was doubtless the most powerful,
but it rested upon an altogether exaggerated notion of national dignity.
What all the great Powers of the world, except, perhaps, France and
England, have done, Japan might do without sacrificing her dignity. The
Japanese Government, after long hesitation, in which it perhaps missed
the most favourable opportunity, decided in June, 1899, to issue a 4 per
cent. loan on the London market at the rate of 90 francs. The high rate
of issue did not greatly tempt the public, but that part of the loan not
then subscribed will be gradually issued and advanced by the banks which
undertook the issue, and thus the Japanese Treasury will find itself in
possession of sufficient funds to proceed with its programme until money
is more plentiful at home. In the meantime, so far as concerns the
honourable intentions of the Japanese to fulfil their obligations, we
may rely with safety upon their natural high sense of honour, and rest
assured that they will do everything in their power to meet their
obligations. Moreover, the resources of Japan, which I will briefly
analyze, appear sufficient to enable the country to meet without much
difficulty the interest on the loans as well as the permanent
expenditure resulting from its greater national importance.
Let us, to begin with, review the principal items in the revenue as
tabulated in the Budget of 1897–98:
Land tax £3,870,000
Income tax 190,000
Tax on drinks 2,990,000
Tax on tobacco 310,000
Registration 750,000
Tax on sales, contracts, etc. 590,000
Customs 660,000
Various duties 490,000
Posts and telegraph 1,210,000
Profits of the State railways 540,000
Crown land products 290,000
Other items 250,000
Receipts from Formosa 810,000
———————————
Total £12,950,000
===========
This Budget is higher by one-half than that of 1893–94, the total of
which we have already given, and whose ordinary receipts did not quite
reach £8,600,000. This increase results from four causes: (1) better
returns from the public services—railways and posts; (2) a slight
increase in the revenue from taxes whose rate has not changed, and also
in the Crown lands; (3) the establishment of two new taxes on
registrations and sales, contracts, and other commercial deeds, the
aggregate value of which increased the revenue by about £1,200,000; (4)
the reorganization of the tax on drink, increased by £1,150,000, and of
that on tobacco, in consequence of this product having been converted
into a monopoly, the effects, however, of which were not felt in
1897–98, for it only came into force in January, 1898. To these we must
add the receipts from Formosa, which, unfortunately, are not net
receipts. The total revenue for the fiscal year 1897–98 was £12,950,000,
and exceeded ordinary expenses by £600,000; but these figures will
undoubtedly be greatly augmented when the programme of expansion is
completed. It is calculated that by the year 1904–5 the ordinary
expenses will stand as high as £17,300,000, in order to meet which it
will be necessary to raise another £4,400,000 by increased taxation.
Taxation in Japan has a natural tendency to increase. During the years
1887–94 the annual rise was between 1¼ and 1½ per cent. at a time, when
it was not affected by any unusual excitement. This was before the war.
Assuming that it only advances at the rate of ¾ per cent., it is
expected that by the year 1904–5 the increase will add £500,000 to the
£9,800,000 of 1897–98. On the other hand, the Customs tariff, which was
kept exceedingly low by the treaties with foreign Powers, has risen in
consequence of the revision of these treaties, and, it is hoped, will
produce an increase of £600,000. The tobacco monopoly will also, it is
anticipated, produce £800,000 per annum, an absolute increase of
£500,000 on the existing returns. There remains, therefore, £2,800,000
to find, which will doubtlessly be obtained from the increased receipts
of the posts, telegraph, and telephones, and by the extension of the
State railways now in existence, and the exploitation of those in
process of construction.
The recent excessive activity in commercial circles has suffered a check
of late, a halt not very surprising after such a forced march. In the
meantime, there is some risk that the returns of the posts and railways
may not increase as rapidly as the more sanguine anticipate, for the new
railways are not likely to prove as profitable as those already in
existence, which pass through richer regions. During the interval
1892–96 the net railway returns to the State, without including any
remarkable increase in the lengths of their lines, was doubled. By the
year 1904 it is calculated that there will be 1,250 miles of rail
instead of the 600 in 1897, which it is estimated will yield an increase
of £550,000 upon the present returns. As to the posts, telegraph, and
telephones, whose rough receipts were augmented by about 80 per cent.
during the last four years, there is every reason to believe that they
will in 1904–5 be £850,000 above what they are at present. Thus we have
£1,400,000 added to the necessary £2,800,000. The remaining £1,400,000
will have to be taken from various other sources of taxation. The
question now arises: Will the country stand further taxation without
protest? The answer seems to me reassuring. The land tax before the
Restoration and even to the close of the seventeenth century, as can be
verified by reference to many important historical documents, was seven
times more burdensome than it is at present, and was paid in kind—in
rice, or other kindred products—and yielded to the daimios and the
Central Government 147,000,000 bushels of rice per annum. At the price
fetched by rice in 1897, when the harvest returned a fair average, the
land tax should now represent about a sixth of this amount, and the
total Budget of £17,300,000 anticipated for the year 1894–95 only
claimed 93,100,000 bushels. If we add to these all the provincial and
communal Budgets, we find not more than 127,400,000 bushels of rice. It
is therefore untrue that the Japanese are not better off to-day than
they were under the old regime. Since the introduction of the present
financial conditions and the abolition of the feudal system, prices have
increased enormously. From 1887 to 1897, according to the Monthly
Returns published by the Bank of Japan, on the returns of about forty
principal products of the Empire, we find that they have increased in
value by no less than 73 per cent. Salaries have augmented even to a
greater extent, and the population has risen 4,000,000, so that an
addition of 45 per cent. upon the taxes leaves the taxpayer less heavily
burdened than before. The most important of all these taxes may strike
us as distinctly heavy, but we must not forget that in former times it
was the only form of taxation. In those good old days nine-tenths of the
population lived in the country, which was divided up among the daimios,
the peasantry being their tenants; but at the abolition of the feudal
system the peasants, under the new law, became proprietors, without
having to pay a fraction either to their former masters or to the
Government.
In 1896 the agricultural produce of Japan was valued at £62,600,000,
exclusive of the produce of the fens, which, however, is very important.
The land taxes, therefore, at £3,800,000 are only 5·6 per cent., and the
local land tax 2·8 per cent. of this total. All this is not excessive.
Finally, the land tax includes £352,500 derived from the tax on urban
building land, which pays £1 12s. per acre, only four times as much as
the rice-fields, and should easily return from £200,000 to £300,000
more. As regards the total of the land tax, it was decreased by
one-sixth in 1877; an equivalent increase would bring in a return of
about £600,000 more, and this could be effected without much
inconvenience, owing to the general increase in the value of property.
The tax on _saké_, the principal drink of the country, was raised in
1897 about one-half. It would bear augmentation, as at present it pays
5d. per gallon on a drink which is worth 1s. 3d. a gallon. In general,
the Japanese financiers prefer to raise existing taxes rather than
establish new ones. If we study the question from another point of view,
and examine how best to increase Japanese taxes, let us consider the
Budget as it will be five years hence, after the necessary taxes already
mentioned have been added to it. Of the £17,300,000 of the Revenue,
£3,400,000 will be derived from Crown lands, railways, and posts,
£850,000 from Formosa, and £13,000,000 from monopolies and taxes paid by
Japan proper. The population, increasing as it does at the rate of
350,000 to 400,000 souls a year, will have reached 45,500,000,
contributing to the State at the rate of £13,000,000, or about 5s. 9d.
per head, which does not seem to us excessive when compared with what is
paid by people of other countries. A Frenchman, for instance, pays £3,
an Italian £1 12s., a Russian 12s. 9d., an Egyptian 16s. 9d., and a
Hindu 3s. 9d. I have not selected these nationalities haphazard, but
because each of them has some special characteristic in common with
Japan, especially Egypt, essentially an agricultural country. I do not
think that anybody can maintain that an Italian, as a rule, is five or
six times richer than a Japanese, or an Egyptian three times, or that
the 130,000,000 of Russians, 20,000,000 of whom are Asiatics, possess
incomes double the average to be found in Japan, and there is no doubt
an immense inverse difference between a Hindu and a Japanese. Bearing in
mind these facts, one must certainly conclude that the amount which the
Jap will pay to his Treasury is considerably lighter than that obtained
from almost every people in the Old World. With regard to the National
Debt, five-sixths of which is held by natives, at the present moment it
does not exceed £40,000,000, but it will reach its maximum in 1901, when
it will stand at £49,930,000. The annual repayment stands at present at
£720,000, but will increase to £1,000,000 in 1903, and go on augmenting,
so that by 1938, unless fresh obligations are incurred beyond those
already in view, Japan will be free of debt.
The financial difficulties confronting Japan at the present moment are
therefore not so formidable as they appear. In 1899 the Chamber
increased the land tax, which it had previously very persistently
refused to do. At the same time it raised the tax on _saké_ and on the
posts. The Budget of ordinary receipts was therefore advanced to
£19,000,000. This figure may appear excessive, but it shows a surplus of
£4,000,000 on the actual expenses, a fact which indicates the intention
of the Government to pay off as soon as possible the extraordinary
expenses of the Ito programme, which means that these increased
taxations are to be considered merely as temporary. They may possibly
impede commerce at first, a thing which, unfortunately, cannot be
helped, but, at any rate, the future will be considerably benefited
thereby. The finances of Japan have, happily, always been managed in a
highly satisfactory and prudent manner, and if the Empire carries out
the present plan of expansion, and does not embark on any fresh schemes
involving further outlay, Japan seems to have found a clear way out of
the transient difficulties which at one time weighed upon her finances.
CHAPTER VIII
THE DOMESTIC POLITICS AND PARLIAMENT OF JAPAN
Present social organization—The nobles, or _kwazoku_; the _shizoku_,
or ancient _samurai_; and the _heimin_—Equal civil rights for all
citizens—Preponderance of the _samurai_ in politics since the
Restoration—Survival of the clan spirit—Japan governed during the
past thirty years by the Choshiu and Satsuma clans—Creation in
1889 of a Constitution modelled on that of Prussia—Parliamentary
struggles against Cabinets governed by Southern clans—Frequent
crises and dissolutions—A Ministerial crisis in Japan—Efforts of
the Chamber to impose Ministerial responsibility and to replace
the Government of clans by that of parties—Signs of improvement in
the working of the representative system—Its prospects in Japan.
We have now to study the least praiseworthy of the many institutions
borrowed from Europe by modern Japan, that relating to the home politics
of the country, which are very unsettled. Since 1889, when the Mikado,
in fulfilment of the promise made to his people at the Restoration,
first granted a Constitution analogous to that of Prussia, the Chambers
have been dissolved not less than five times. A constant antagonism has
existed between the representatives of the people and the various
Cabinets which have succeeded each other; and if we except the time of
the Chinese War, when the patriotism of the Japanese was so intense as
to absorb even party feeling, we shall find that no Cabinet has been
able to dispose of an important majority. In order to understand this
state of affairs, we must recall the manner in which the Restoration
took place, bearing in mind the actual social organization of Japan, and
also the fact that the clan instinct has survived both class prejudice
and feudal privileges, which were suppressed without the least
opposition or regret.
Twenty-five years have now elapsed since the abolition of the old
regime, and in the meantime the feudal system has been replaced,
primarily by a centralized and absolute monarchy, and now by
Parliamentary representation modelled on the European plan. The eighty
odd historical provinces have become forty-five departments, each
administered by a Prefect. The people are, however, still divided into
three distinct classes: the aristocracy, or _kwazoku_, formed of a
fusion of the ancient daimios with the _kuges_, or Court nobles, and of
the _shinkwazoku_, or newly ennobled persons (in all 644 families,
consisting of about 4,162 persons); the _shizoku_, or ancient _samurai_
(numbering 432,458 families, or 2,049,144 persons); and finally the
_heimin_, or commoners; but apart from the predominance of the nobility
in the composition of the Chamber of Peers[18] no privileges have been
granted either to them or to the _shizoku_: their duties are exactly the
same as those of any other members. From the social point of view we
shall, however, very soon find that far less exclusiveness exists in
this country, where feudalism was in full force only so recently as
thirty years ago, than we should in many in Europe, where its abolition
dates back in some instances several centuries. A Japanese gentleman
recently said to me: ‘In Japan we never dream of asking a person the
first time we see him to what class he belongs.’ I dare say some
time-honoured privileges still linger in their inner circle, and that a
few old-fashioned noblemen do consider themselves superior to the
_heimin_, but they take great care not to display any such feeling. One
meets members of the Japanese aristocracy in every public resort and
place of amusement, and they mingle without the least hesitation with
the rest of the public. I remember one day at Tokio being present at a
wrestling match, a very favourite sport with the Japanese. Someone
pointed out to me Prince K——, the President of the House of Peers, seated
among the crowd on one of the steps of the ring. The Marquis H——, the
descendent of a great family of daimios, was also present, as well as
the Marquis Tokukawa, who is an ardent admirer of the sport and belongs
to the family of the Shoguns, to have merely looked upon a member of
which a generation or so back would have cost a man of the people his
life. These gentlemen appeared to thoroughly enjoy the entertainment,
and evidently thought very little or nothing at all of their former
exclusiveness.
Although the highest positions in the Government are open to all, they
have hitherto always remained in the hands of the _samurai_. Just as
immediately after the Restoration, so to-day the country is governed by
members of this very numerous and intelligent gentry. All the successive
Ministers, the majority of whom have been ennobled, even made _kwazoku_,
have sprung from its ranks. The same may be said of all the high
officials, and, with very few exceptions, of the majority of the smaller
employés of the Government, even down to the very police agents and the
vast majority of the military and naval officers. This is not surprising
when we remember that the _samurai_ constituted before the Restoration
not only the military, but also the student and literary class. Even now
the greater number of the students at the University are recruited from
among them, and as a proof that a sort of special respect is still
entertained for them, they form the majority of the members of the Lower
House, although they only possess one-twentieth of the voting power of
the country. The mass of the Japanese people may be described as caring
very little about public affairs; and it is, after all, perhaps as well
that the political and administrative affairs of such a new country
should be in the hands of a distinct and cultured class. This is,
however, merely a transitory state of affairs, not a privilege. It is
already observed that the proportion of the _heimin_ in all public
offices, even in the army, tends to increase rapidly.
The only marked feature of the former regime which still survives the
many social changes that have recently taken place in Japan is the clan
spirit, which is as strong to-day as ever. The bond which united the
followers of a former feudal prince among themselves still subsists,
although the prince himself may have fallen almost to the level of his
clansmen. The men who have up to the present governed modern Japan have
always belonged to southern clans, especially to those of Choshiu and
Satsuma; the two others, Hizen and Tosa, are less united, and although
certain important political personages are of their number, they have
had to fight their way to the front rather by dint of hard work than
through any clan influence. The influential combination formed by the
first-named clans, and unitedly known as the Sat-Cho, holds in its hands
the reins of administration, rules the army, and makes its influence
felt even more strongly in the navy. Their politics, however, are not
quite identical. Those of the Satsuma, for instance, are usually
believed to be rather more conservative and authoritative than
otherwise, and it is from its ranks that are recruited the majority of
the military party. The men of the Choshiu, on the other hand, are more
progressive and more subtle, but they are also accused of being too fond
of money. The chiefs of these clans appear to understand each other
sufficiently well to establish a sort of balance of power between
themselves, occasionally collaborating in a Cabinet, at other times
succeeding each other as distinct Ministries. In the rank and file there
is considerable rivalry, positions and honours being more liberally
distributed among the followers of those in power. During the earlier
part of my visit to Japan, under the last Premier, Count Matsukata, the
Satsuma clan was in the ascendant, and to give some idea of its
influence all I need say is that the Minister of Finance, the President
of the Council, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, the Home Minister, and
the Minister of War and Marine—in short, the five most important
Ministers out of eight—were of their number, and a sixth was a prominent
member of the Choshiu, their allied clan. Now the provinces of Yamaguchi
and Kagoshima, which are the home of these two clans, contain only one
out of the forty-two million inhabitants of the entire Empire. It is
therefore not surprising that people in other parts of the country
should complain of having so small a share in the Government. Imagine
France ruled exclusively for thirty years by Provençaux! It would only
be natural that such a state of affairs should lead to great
dissatisfaction throughout the Republic.
So long as Japan remained an absolute monarchy, in which the Legislature
was concentrated within a narrow circle, the Choshiu and Satsuma
Ministries succeeded each other without any noisy opposition; but when
in 1890 Parliamentary Government was established, an immediate collision
occurred between the Lower Chamber, which is composed of representatives
from all parts of the country,[19] and the Cabinet, dominated by the
Sat-Cho combination. Although according to the Constitution, analogous
to that of Prussia, the Ministers are not responsible to the Chambers,
but to the Emperor alone, and although the Budget of the current year,
if the finance bill is not voted in due time, becomes by law that of the
following year also, the irreconcilable opposition which manifested
itself from the beginning greatly embarrassed the first Matsukata
Ministry in 1891 and 1892, and the Ito Ministry which succeeded it. This
latter, whose plans for the extension of the Navy were obstinately
rejected by the Chamber, twice dissolved it: in December, 1893, and
again in May, 1894. After the war patriotic feeling ran so high that
people cared very little about the Government and its measures, and
projected laws were adopted without the least opposition; but when
affairs began to settle down it was otherwise. In 1897 and 1898 there
were two dissolutions, and in the latter year the Ministry in power was
the ninth since December, 1885, and the seventh since the establishment
of the Parliamentary system. This gives an average of about two years
for each Cabinet, and even less for the Chamber, of which not one has
yet attained its legal term.
The reason for this persistent conflict is due in the first place to the
popular assembly being hostile to the Government of the clansmen, and in
the second because it is displeased that the Ministers are not
responsible to it. Whilst professing the greatest respect for the
Emperor, the Chamber considers that the Government should possess a
Parliamentary majority in order to retain power. It, moreover, complains
of a certain lack of respect, Ministers rarely troubling to appear
before it, and that it is seldom, if ever, addressed by any but high
functionaries, appointed Government Commissioners for matters within
their several departments. In a word, there exists considerable friction
in the popular assembly against this state of affairs, which reduces it
to the position of a mere debating society.
Now, all successive Cabinets have resolutely refused to consider the
Lower Chamber in any other light, which gave rise to some curious
incidents during the Ministerial and Parliamentary crisis of December,
1897, and January, 1898, which I had the good fortune to witness. The
Cabinet, persuaded that the majority was hostile to it, determined to
avoid even the semblance of dependence upon the Chamber, and therefore
did not wait for the passing of a vote of censure, but dissolved the
Chamber and offered their own resignation to the Emperor, to whom alone
they considered themselves responsible.
Consequently, on December 24th the Emperor, according to custom, came in
person to read the Speech from the Throne to the two united Chambers,
who forthwith voted the usual answer. These two documents were very
short, and the second, containing merely protestations of respect and
loyalty, was unanimously adopted. On the morrow, scarcely had the order
of the day been read and certain financial projects of the Government
presented, than the doyen of the Chamber, Mr. Suzuki, asked leave to
speak, and proposed the amendment, so as to enable the House to discuss
a vote of censure. This amendment, which did not come as a surprise,
being unanimously passed, the same gentleman returned immediately to the
tribune and read out the following resolution, ‘That the Chamber of
Deputies declares it has no confidence in the present Ministry,’
whereupon somebody presented a folded paper to the President, who
silenced the speaker by announcing that he had just received an Imperial
rescript, the tenor of which he informed the Chamber was as follows: ‘In
virtue of Article 3 of the Imperial Constitution, We hereby ordain that
the Chamber of Deputies be dissolved forthwith.’ The House rose, having
met for only seven minutes, and simultaneously the Upper House was
prorogued. Two days later, on the 27th, the Emperor received the
resignation of Count Matsukata and his colleagues. On the evening of the
same day the Marquis Ito, who had already twice been Premier, in 1886–88
and in 1892–96, and who is certainly the best known living Japanese
statesman, was summoned to the palace. At first he hesitated about
accepting the leadership of the Government under such very difficult
circumstances, especially with respect to foreign affairs, Japan being
at that time at the acute stage of her Chinese question, while home
matters were embarrassed by several economical and financial
obstructions of a very serious character, but nevertheless, the Marquis
finally accepted. After ten days’ fruitless negotiations, he was obliged
to give up his difficult task; but he was able, however, by the 12th of
January to compose another Cabinet containing some excellent names, but
it was a clan Ministry, including four Choshius and two Satsumas. In
June he was obliged to dissolve Parliament, and the Ito Cabinet had to
give way to another, formed under the Presidency of Count Okuma, a
statesman of very progressive views, which may be described as the only
genuine Parliamentary Cabinet Japan has yet known. The new Cabinet was
not composed from a single party, but by a coalition of the two already
existing, and leagued against the clans. It lasted but a short time, and
towards the end of 1898 the Satsuma and Choshiu parties returned to
office under the Premiership of Marshal Yamagata.
As in the case of the clans, the parties are formed of groups of persons
and interests. They have no defined programmes, but are constantly
changing their views, and are mere cliques surrounding one or two
influential politicians who aspire to replace the clan in office merely
for the sake of the advantages to be obtained, and to be able to
distribute posts among their relatives and friends. In the Parliament
which was dissolved in 1897 by Count Matsukata the most important of
these groups was that of the ‘Progressives,’ including some 90 to 95
members out of 300; then came the ‘Liberals,’ with about 80 adherents;
then the ‘National Unionists,’ 25 to 30; and, lastly, some twenty other
subdivisions, besides the ‘Independents.’ The Progressives are more
consistent, possibly because they have only been in existence since
1896. The Liberals, although the oldest group, have almost completely
lost their influence and cohesion during the last two or three years.
If you question a Japanese about the programmes of these different
parties he will give very vague answers, and, for the matter of that,
they are hardly distinguishable one from another. The demands presented
by the Progressives to Count Matsukata in the autumn of 1897 were
formulated in the vaguest terms, and confined to generalities, such as
reforms in the administration, a magnanimous system of government, etc.
The National Unionists are somewhat conservative in their tendencies,
but their programme is also extremely nebulous. On one point, however,
everybody seems agreed, and that is a horror of any attempt to increase
taxation, and not even the most seductive of projects will induce the
Chamber to budge an inch in this direction—an economical consistency
which is a distinct virtue considering the youth and inexperience of the
Japanese House of Representatives.
The influential politicians do not form a part of the Chamber, nearly
all of them having been ennobled, and, what is more, with one exception,
they are not avowed chiefs of any party. If Count Itagaki, an old
Radical, is the official leader of the Liberals, Count Okuma, by far the
most original statesman in the Empire, does not profess to be the leader
of the Progressives, although he is extremely intimate with them.
Neither does Marshal Yamagata openly declare his influence over the
National Unionists. This action on the part of those who in any other
country would be popularly known as leaders of the various parties
undoubtedly weakens the influence of the several groups in the Japanese
Parliament. As to the representatives of the two clans in power in the
House, needless to say, the feeling of clanship carries all before it,
even party interests. Three Satsuma deputies who belong to the
Progressives immediately withdrew when this party in a preliminary
meeting declared opposition to the Matsukata Ministry.
The men of the Southern clans have now governed Japan for over thirty
years, and governed her well. The able and energetic statesmen of the
first days of the Restoration have been succeeded by others of equal
ability, and of the same school. They are surrounded, however, by a
bureaucracy which existed in Japan even in the days of the last Shoguns,
and closely resembles that of Prussia, which, although arrogant, is
highly educated and progressive. They are supported by a powerful and
well-disciplined army, a navy whose officers are for the most part
members of the same clans as the Ministers, and the heads of the Civil
Service. These men have led their country happily through a series of
unexampled changes, transforming her from a feudal to a modern State
administered on advanced principles. They have placed her in an
excellent financial position, they have covered her with military glory,
and have assured her a period of extraordinary prosperity and economic
development. These observations force themselves upon the impartial
spectator who visits Japan with the object of studying the remarkable
progress she has made in so surprisingly short a time.
It is impossible not to feel some anxiety lest affairs should be
wrenched from the hands of such experienced statesmen as those of the
Satsuma and the Choshiu clans, only to be scrambled for among the groups
into which the Chamber is at present divided. This, however, need not
make us despair of the success of Parliamentary Government in Japan. We
must not forget that the British Parliament was not shaped in a day, and
that in all countries in which this particular form of government has
been accepted many years have had to elapse before it attained anything
approaching perfection, and it is but natural that Japan should go
through the same experience. To be just, however, considerable progress
has lately been made in the right direction. The parties which possess
any kind of adhesion have occasionally participated more or less
directly in the Government. Marquis Ito brought Count Itagaki into the
Cabinet of 1895, and at the end of his Ministry was himself supported in
the Chamber by the Liberals. Then, again, in 1896 Count Matsukata came
into power in company with Count Okuma, favoured by the Progressives.
Throughout the whole of the Session of 1896–97, thanks to their support
and to that of the secondary groups, the Government possessed a decided
majority which did honour to the political acumen of the Ministers and
to the wisdom of the members. Unfortunately, in the autumn of 1897 the
Progressives grew tired of a Cabinet which did not fulfil its promises,
and withdrew, carrying with them Count Okuma; but this attempt showed on
the one hand that the Government had recognised the importance of an
understanding with a party, and on the other that such an understanding
possessed some staying power. Since the month of October, 1898, the
Yamagata Ministry has had to deal with a very reasonable Parliament,
which has unhesitatingly passed those laws which were required to
extricate the country from its financial difficulties, and also divers
measures necessitated by recently concluded treaties with European
Powers. All this seems to indicate that under certain grave
circumstances the Japanese Parliament is quite capable of rising to the
occasion, and possesses the great quality, as I have said once before,
of a spirit of economy often, unfortunately, absent from the more
experienced Parliaments of Europe. If the Japanese Parliament ever
returns to its old turbulent and boisterous humours, and insists upon
governing instead of controlling, and if its irreconcilable Opposition
incurs the risk of compromising the interests of the country, it is not
at all improbable that the Constitution may be seriously embarrassed by
a series of crises, but at present there is not much chance of
exceptional measures creating any serious trouble. If the voters of
Japan are apt to display an over-exuberance at elections, this is due in
the main to the fact that they are new to their business, and moreover
they form but a very small proportion of the population. The masses are
absolutely indifferent to political agitation. The newspapers, which are
read in the towns, make but slight reference to politics, and are mainly
filled with gossip, novels and anecdotes, while to the vast majority of
the people the Emperor is still a demi-god, and the last thing the
commercial classes would approve would be a series of riotous scenes in
the Chamber.
CHAPTER IX
JAPAN’S FOREIGN POLICY AND HER MILITARY POWER
The military forces of Japan—The part they may play in the Far
East—Japanese army and navy—Excellent qualities and sound
instruction of the troops—Remarkable power of organization
displayed during the war with China—Importance of a Japanese
alliance for the Powers interested in China—The feeling of Japan
towards foreign countries—Her conservative policy in China since
the war—Her policy hostile to Russia and favourable to England—The
Korean Question—Motives which might lessen her feeling of
hostility towards Russia—Japan the champion of the integrity of
the Celestial Empire.
The Japanese Parliament having voted the necessary funds for carrying
out the programme of military, naval and economic expansion which was
formulated by the Government after the Chino-Japanese War, the Empire
will have, as we have already seen, without mentioning new railways and
other public works, an army of 150,000 men on a peace footing, instead
of from 70,000 to 75,000, and will be able to send into the field
500,000 men instead of from 270,000 to 280,000 men. Her fleet will be
increased to 67 men-of-war, of 258,000 tons, 11 torpedo-boat destroyers,
and 115 torpedo-boats, instead of the 33 vessels of 63,000 tonnage and
26 torpedo-boats she had before the war with China.
It is not expected that the completion of this programme of defence will
take place before 1905 as regards the navy, and 1903 with respect to the
army. As the matter stands, however, more than half the work is
finished. Of the £21,300,000 voted to defray the expenses of the
augmentation of the navy, which includes arsenals, docks, etc., it was
stipulated that £13,300,000 was to be disbursed before April 1st, 1899,
and £3,400,000 more between that date and April 1st, 1900. The lengthy
opposition made by the Parliament with regard to the raising of taxes
and foreign loans possibly may have retarded the works a little,
especially those which have been executed in Japan; but the foreign
orders have been fulfilled, and the Mikado’s navy is now in possession
of nearly all the new vessels contracted for. The completion of at least
three out of the five arsenals is also far advanced. The same may be
said of the army. Of the £7,900,000 demanded for its increase,
£4,200,000 was spent before April, 1896, and £1,000,000 between that
date and April, 1900. It may be well to remind my readers that when
everything is completed the army will consist of twelve divisions
instead of six, exclusive of the Imperial Guard. Three of these new
divisions were completed when I was in Japan in 1898.
What constitutes the great importance of the Japanese factor in the Far
East, and consequently throughout the world—the question of the Far East
dominating all others—is that her military and maritime forces are on
the spot. The Japanese navy would be respectable under any
circumstances, for it is equal to that of either Italy or Germany; but
it should be remembered that the Western nations cannot leave their
coasts and their colonies unprotected, and consequently can only send a
secondary portion of their maritime force, otherwise scattered
throughout the world, into Chinese waters. It follows therefore that no
other European Power, excepting perhaps England, could bring into these
waters in case of war a fleet in any way comparable with that of the
Mikado.[20]
What has been said of the naval power may be repeated with still greater
emphasis of the military. It is needless to recall the difficulties to
be overcome in transporting, notwithstanding the immense size of vessels
now in use, even a single army corps to the Far East, the long and
minute preparations necessary for such an enterprise, or the perils that
are likely to be encountered, unless the sending Power is absolute
mistress of the sea. Japan, thanks to her railways and Inland Sea, can
now in a few days concentrate her whole army where no hostile vessel
dare pursue it, in the island of Kiu-Siu, 125 miles from the coast of
Korea, barely 500 miles from the mouth of the Yang-tsze-Kiang, a
distance equalling that between Marseilles and Algiers, and 625 miles
from the Bay of Pe-chi-li, and 940 miles from the entrance to the
Pei-ho, the river which flows to Peking. It could, therefore, in a few
days after the declaration of war land in China and especially in Korea
such a force as no European Power, excepting Russia, once the
Trans-Siberian line is finished, could introduce in so short a time.[21]
Since her fleet can easily protect her own territory, she need keep only
a part of her reserves at home.
We have already seen that in the struggle with China, Japan, with her
naval and military forces, easily overcame that rather contemptible
enemy. It was evident that in this campaign the Japanese displayed
remarkable organizing ability, and that the whole working of the
delicate machinery of transports, ambulances, commissariat, etc., was
admirably managed. This is a great point in their favour, especially
when we remember that a similar compliment could not be paid to many a
European expedition sent out against enemies less redoubtable than the
Chinese. Even the English, after observing the manœuvres of the Japanese
squadron during the Chino-Japanese War, did not hesitate to praise their
excellence; and the military attaches who followed the Korean and
Manchurian campaign expressed themselves equally impressed by the
Japanese army.
The courage of the Japanese cannot be questioned. They have proved it in
their long and bloody feudal wars, and, again, only twenty years ago,
during the insurrection in Satsuma. Their patriotism is equally sincere,
for they are the only Orientals among whom this sentiment exists, and
with them it easily rises to fanaticism. The endurance of their troops
is extraordinary. The subjects of the Mikado are unquestionably the best
pedestrians in the world; and it needs no strain on the imagination to
realize what must be the excellence of the infantry of a country whose
peasantry use no cattle to draw their waggons, and who pass their winter
months in making pilgrimages to distant sanctuaries in their own and in
neighbouring provinces.
In Japan two men think nothing of dragging a jinrikisha sixty miles in
twelve hours, taking only two for rest, and recommencing their journey
the next day quite fresh. A Japanese battalion has been known to march
twenty-five to thirty miles in a day, knapsack on back, without leaving
any stragglers behind. The instruction of the soldiers—cavalry, perhaps,
excepted—is excellent, and they learn very quickly. I have watched the
manœuvres of some recruits who had only been six weeks in the regiment,
and, although they had never in their lives been in European dress
before, they wore their uniforms much more easily than many of our young
soldiers. The Japanese are, moreover, excellent shots.
The raw material of the Japanese army is, therefore, exceedingly good.
It is provided with first-class guns and cannon, and as the navy is
composed of vessels built by the best builders in Europe and America,
according to the latest models, it goes without saying that the
artillery is worthy of the vessels which convey it. The staff may
possibly not attain the same high standard as the rank and file, but
this is difficult to pronounce upon, the data not being sufficient to
assist us in forming a correct opinion. It seems, however, that it has
been accused of lacking decision, and also of being too much under the
influence of academic and technical theories, not paying sufficient
attention to the exigencies of modern warfare.
Be this as it may, it is very probable that in the case of Japan going
to war as the ally of a European Power, these defects would be much
modified if they listened to the advice of their friends. In addition to
the above, we must not forget to add that Japan is the only country of
the Far East which works important coal-mines, and that two of the
principal of these are situated in the island of Kiu-Siu, quite close to
that part of the coast nearest Korea and China, and that she is,
moreover, at the present day mistress of the Pescadors, a strategical
point which Courbet valued very highly, situated in the middle of the
China Sea. It will thus be easy to estimate of what value the
co-operation of this nation would be to those Powers who are interested
in the Middle Kingdom.
It is, therefore, necessary to know something of the feeling entertained
by Japan towards the Sick Man of Peking, as well as towards the various
doctors assembled round his bed, thinking less of the patient’s recovery
than of the eventual division of his legacy. So far as China is
concerned, Japan is undoubtedly favourably disposed towards her, and
since the war she has had no warmer, and, it may be added, no sincerer
friend than her late enemy. If Japan had been allowed a free hand, she
would undoubtedly have reorganized China to her own profit, but possibly
Europe, in preventing this, displayed considerable acumen, for her so
doing might in the long-run have proved dangerous. Next to being able to
reform China herself, Japan would like her to undertake her own
reformation, and place herself in a position to maintain her autonomy,
so as not to fall a prey to the European Powers.
The Ministers of the Mikado are very naturally somewhat alarmed at the
thought that their country may soon be the only one in the whole world
inhabited by a non-European race that maintains its independence, and
they cannot forbear asking themselves how long this independence may be
allowed to last, all the more so since Japan is in immediate contact
with, numerically speaking, the most powerful State in the world, the
colossal Russian Empire, which borders upon China. Might not Japan under
these circumstances be constantly menaced by so formidable a neighbour?
Doubtless she would be able to resist an invasion, but at a terrific
sacrifice—for to conquer Japan it would be necessary to exterminate many
millions of Japanese. In any case Japan’s foreign influence would be at
an end, especially in Korea, which she has several times conquered, and
upon which she still cherishes pretensions that date over 2,000 years.
Even from the purely economic side she would suffer greatly; for her
principal commercial outlet, China, might be closed to her for good.
These are the principal reasons which oblige the Japanese to remain the
devoted friends of the Chinese Empire, and at the same time the
adversaries of Russia, who, they believe, wishes to absorb China, and
thereby dominate, if not the whole, at least the north, of the Asiatic
Continent, and which compel them to throw in their lot with England.
This latter Power does not aim at the political annexation of China; she
only wishes to obtain additional facilities for her commerce and
concessions for public works, and has therefore no intention whatever of
surrounding the Celestial Empire by a formidable ring of Custom-houses.
Undoubtedly Japan has had good reason to seek an alliance with England,
and we need not be surprised at her distrust of Russia, which, having
deprived her of the fruits of her continental conquests in 1895, three
years later annexed them herself. As to England, her interest in
obtaining the co-operation of Japan is so self-evident as only to need a
passing allusion. Through her friendship with Japan she could obtain
what she wants, not only in the Far East, but elsewhere, a large and
well-organized army that, owing to an unquestionable supremacy on the
sea, the result of the combination of two formidable fleets, could be
easily and safely transported to the neighbouring continent.
May there not, however, be certain other reasons which might eventually
induce not so much Great Britain to break off her Japanese alliance as
Japan to sever her side of the compact and ultimately extend her hand to
Russia? There is ground for the belief that such a proposition does
exist, since there are Russophiles at Tokio and Japanophiles at St.
Petersburg. Is it not, moreover, rather imprudent to oppose the progress
the Tsar’s Empire is making on the continent? It is, after all, an
irresistible force resulting from the very nature of things, and
therefore it were perchance wiser to be rather with Russia than against
her. Then, again, it should be remembered that Russia displayed her
goodwill towards Japan by leaving her a free hand in Korea, not,
however, until after she had seized Port Arthur. True, the situation
created in Korea by the compact of April, 1898, was precarious; and
possibly, when once her position in the Far East is consolidated by the
completion of the Trans-Siberian line, the Tsar’s Government may rescind
the concession which it has signed and occupy the peninsula. But even if
we admit that this contingency is a possible one—and it is by no means
absolutely certain that Russia does entertain any such project—Japan may
still hope for compensation elsewhere in the centre or south of China
round the province of Fu-kien, where she has already made her influence
felt, as also at Borneo. Russia might also give certain tariff
guarantees, and might it not be to her interest, less urgently, perhaps,
than in the case of England, to secure the co-operation of Japan in case
of conflict? And, finally, is Great Britain a very safe ally? May she
not be simply using Japan for her own ends, thrusting her forward only
perhaps to abandon her when she is committed? Will she lend assistance
to a commercial rival?
These are arguments which are not without their influence at Tokio,
where the difficulty of opposing a solid and durable barrier against the
encroachments of Russia on the continent is fully appreciated, and where
there certainly exists a feeling of distrust, not only of the English,
but of all other Europeans. Political and military interference in
continental affairs has never resulted otherwise than in weakening an
insular power, and much as the subjects of the Mikado may desire Korea,
it should not be forgotten that, however great Japan’s interests may be
in that direction, she may easily renounce her pretensions on _terra
firma_ if she were offered some material and tangible compensation
elsewhere. It has been said that Japan had cast a longing eye on the
Philippines, and certain signs led many to think that at one time she
had played with the rebels in those islands much the same part enacted
by the United States in Cuba; but now America has seized upon these
islands, and has also annexed Hawaii, another spot coveted by Japan.
Unfortunately, Japan has come too late into the world to possess
colonies, and must therefore content herself with the solitary Formosa,
which, however, is a possession by no means to be despised.
Still, even now, Japan does not lose all hope of eventually obtaining a
footing upon the continent; but, providing that others do not handle
China too roughly, she has no intention of interfering with her
neighbour, certainly not to menace her integrity. She wishes only to
consolidate her by augmenting at the same time her own influence, and
would not intervene even if she thought the Celestial Empire were in
danger. From the point of view of international politics, Japan is
certainly a conservative element; but in the day of struggle, should it
ever occur, she is destined to weigh very heavily in the scale, not only
in the solution of the question of the Far East, but also in the problem
which rises behind it—that of supremacy in the Pacific, which will one
day be fought out, not between the Whale and the Elephant, but between
the Elephants of the Old and the New Worlds—that is to say, between
Russia and the United States. But whatever may be the events which will
eventually transpire, Japan apparently does not wish to precipitate a
struggle, provided only that the maintenance of the _status quo_ is not
threatened by others.
CHAPTER X
THE FUTURE OF WESTERN CIVILIZATION IN JAPAN—RELATIONS BETWEEN JAPANESE
AND FOREIGNERS
Questions which are raised by the recent evolution in Japan—Can the
Japanese assimilate the civilization of peoples of a different
race?—Precedents and analogies—Up to what point does Japan wish to
resemble Europe?—Character and degree of the changes which have
taken place in Japan from the social, political, and economical
point of view—Adaptation of Western institutions in Japan—Feeling
of the Japanese towards foreigners—The revision of treaties with
foreign Powers—The absolute necessity for Japan to enter into
intimate relationship with the rest of the world if she wishes to
retain her newly-acquired civilization.
To one who has studied Japan on the spot, a very serious question
presents itself for solution, one of vast importance, not only to the
inhabitants of that island Empire, but to the entire human family,
_i.e._, Will the evolution which this country has undergone prove
permanent and not likely to collapse at a given moment, bringing with it
the ruin of the State? In a word, the question is, whether it be
possible for a people so suddenly to assimilate the old-established and
elaborate civilization of another race. Let us, to begin with, remember
that the Japanese have already afforded precedents proving that they
possess powers of assimilation in a rare degree. From the third to the
sixth century of our era they introduced Chinese civilization into their
dominions, and from the ethnographic point of view, whether the Japanese
belong to the Mongol or to the Malay family, they are not so far removed
from the Chinese as the whites; nevertheless they are quite as distinct
from them as are the Aryans from the Semites, and as the French or the
Germans from the Arabs. The example of Russia is perhaps less marked,
because more intimate affinities unite the Slavs to the Western races,
and yet the Russians are the least Slav of any of the Slavs, being in
reality for the most part Finns who have submitted to Slav influences.
The Finns are related to the Mongols, and Muscovy, moreover, was under
the Tatar yoke for three centuries, a dominion which has left a very
profound impression on the race. Peter the Great’s enterprise was
therefore not an easy one. The principal objection, however, which can
be brought against the example of Russia is that her evolution was never
completed, and did not influence the lower strata of society
sufficiently for it to become completely Europeanized. Hungary offers a
better field of investigation in this direction, for the peoples who
originally invaded her were distinctly Oriental, but now this country
has become absolutely European, the result probably of an intimate
connection between its inhabitants and their neighbours. But beyond
these facts, there is one point which we should not overlook. Our own
civilization is not the monopoly of one race, but was constructed by the
concurrence of many people. It results directly from Roman and Greek
civilization, and through these from Phœnician and Egyptian. The
Egyptians, needless to say, were a branch of the Hamites, the most
degraded white race of our time; the Phœnicians, on the other hand, were
Semites, and it was another Semitic race, the Arab, that during the
Middle Ages held the light of civilization, and transmitted to us the
inheritance of antiquity, after having widely extended its scientific
uses. The whole history of our civilization, therefore, protests against
its having ever been at any time monopolized by the Aryan branch of the
white race.
Modern ethnography, based upon recent linguistic and anthropological
discoveries, has shaken to its foundations those notions concerning the
white races which were universally accepted in bygone times. We no
longer hold that it was from the high plateau of Asia that swept those
tribes who eventually peopled Europe, but that they radiated from the
centre of Europe herself. Far from forming the majority of the
inhabitants of the Continent, the Aryans, if that term still preserves
its meaning, are but one of its elements. They have mingled everywhere
in variable quantities among the different hordes of Finnish and other
races who have overrun our continent. The varied formation of the skulls
which has been observed among the different inhabitants of a single
country corresponds with the predominance of one or other of these
original elements, with the result that the unity of race which has
hitherto been imagined to exist among all Western peoples is now proved
to be chimerical.
Whatever truth these theories may contain, they are nevertheless subject
to frequent modification, but it seems impossible with the present facts
to sustain _à priori_ that one race cannot assimilate the civilization
of another. No doubt the Japanese differ more completely from the
Europeans of the West than do the Russians, or even the Arabs, or than
they themselves do from the Chinese; but once the unity of the human
race is admitted, this becomes a mere question of degree of parentage.
Must we, therefore, draw a line of degree between peoples beyond which
the transmission of the civilization of the one cannot penetrate to the
other, even as the French law fixes a limit to the transmission of
inheritance? Nothing short of experience can solve the question. For the
matter of that, the phenomenon is constantly taking place before our
eyes, and if there be a people who might attempt it with hope of
success, it is surely the Japanese, who to exceptional intelligence and
remarkable powers of assimilation add a great spirit of enterprise and
an uncommon energy.
Japan cannot be compared for a moment with China; for, much younger than
her Celestial neighbour—since she received her civilization at her hands
at a period contemporary with the fall of the Roman Empire, when the
annals of China reached as far back into the night of time as those of
Egypt—she has not had time to fossilize herself in sterile admiration of
the past, and she has never adopted that mandarinate which China
considers one of her chief glories, but which is in reality slowly
ruining her. Above all, like Europe in the Middle Ages, she has
submitted to the virile influences of the feudal system, and, therefore,
there is no reason _à priori_ why she should not succeed in her
enterprise. Whether or no Japan wishes to convert herself on every point
into an absolutely Europeanized nation, and a Western European nation at
that, is another question which demands close attention. Possibly it is
an exaggeration to say that the promoters of the remarkable series of
reforms which have lately been effected in Japan had ever an eye to so
complete a transformation. The first reform which engrossed their
attention was undoubtedly to place their country, which had so suddenly
broken through her ancient tradition of isolation, on a military, naval,
and an economical basis, that would enable her to treat as an equal with
any of the other nations of the world. The Japanese are the only
Oriental people who have understood the conditions necessary to attain
this aim. Japan discerned that by accepting a military and economic
position equal to that of any European country, she was also obliged to
undergo immense changes in every department of her national existence,
and she unflinchingly faced her new position, resolved to accomplish
every sort of transformation in order to place herself on a firm
footing.
It seems to me that Japan has solved the difficult question as to which
were the changes she ought to undergo. The fact that she has accepted
the entire programme of European civilization, barring a few domestic
usages, certain traditions of family existence and religion, speaks for
itself. The religious question is one of the most interesting and
curious phases of Japanese experience. Until the present day history has
always demonstrated that the first act of a people which desired to
model itself upon another was to adopt its religion, and in Japan itself
1,500 years ago Buddhism paved the way for the advent of Chinese
civilization. In the sixteenth century, at a time when she was first
brought into contact with Europeans, Christianity played an important
part, and soon made many proselytes. To-day it is otherwise. The Mikado,
it is true, does not prevent his subjects from embracing Christianity,
but he does not encourage them to do so. Most probably this is the
result of the fact that religion is no longer the foremost factor in
Western civilization, and is somewhat veiled by important scientific
discoveries and material improvements, and, whether rightly or wrongly,
there can be no question that the spirit of the century pretends to
solve political and social problems outside of the sphere of religion.
The Japanese have evidently arrived at the conclusion that it was
unnecessary to effect a transformation in an order of ideas which the
Europeans themselves apparently consider accessory. If one day they find
that they have made a mistake, it probably will not take them long to
change their minds; but for the present they have preferred to rally
round the popular idea, neutrality of the State in matters of religion
and freedom of conscience to all, and this allows them to retain
Buddhism and Shintoism as the religion of the immense majority of the
people.
From the civil point of view, on the other hand, they have introduced
many European reforms. Japanese society formerly resembled in many ways
that of ancient Rome, especially with respect to the constitution of the
family. The new civil code which has been carried into effect is more in
accordance with modern ideas, and modifies the excessive habit of
adoption, diminishes the power of the head of the family over his
married children and his younger brothers, and raises somewhat the
position of women, who were already freer in Japan than in any other
Oriental country. But it also permits, in accordance with Japanese
traditions, very slight difference to exist between legitimate and
illegitimate children, and on this point, as on that of divorce—whether
for good or otherwise I do not consider myself called upon to judge—it
shapes itself very much on the same lines as does modern legislation
elsewhere. The personal status, therefore, of a Japanese is very much
the same as that of a European, and the laws relating to property have
for a long time been identical with our own. As to the penal code, it is
one of the most moderate in the world, and the death sentence is only
passed in cases of crime against the Emperor.
Politically speaking, the Japanese have gone further still, and have
given themselves a Constitution analogous, as already stated, to that of
Prussia. It may perhaps be queried whether they were wise in accepting
so entirely our representative system; but undoubtedly within the last
eight years Parliamentary life in Japan has made rapid strides, and,
indeed, is neither better nor worse than it is in many a European
country. The parties do not come to stay long, and their programmes are
very confused. The relation between the clans and the provinces plays a
very conspicuous part in the Parliamentary existence; but, for the
matter of that, so they do in Italy and elsewhere. Even if it has been a
rather premature experience, nevertheless Parliamentary Government in
Japan seems likely to stay. The numerous provincial and communal
assemblies carry out their business fairly well, although, to be sure,
there are whispers of a slight amount of corruption—but where is it
otherwise? One of the happiest traits of Japanese evolution is that
there appears little probability of its ending, like the great Russian
transformation under Peter the Great, in the creation of two distinct
classes, separated by an insurmountable barrier. There is no serfdom or
anything to maintain the Japanese peasantry in the same position of
inferiority as the Russian mujik, and the mass of the nation
unhesitatingly follows the lead of its chiefs.
Refined by from twelve to fifteen centuries of civilization, the
subjects of the Mikado are much better educated than were those of Peter
the Great, and therefore can march with far greater assurance on the
road to progress. While the smallness of the country and the density of
its population, concentrated for the most part on the coast-line, are
likewise aids to the rapid penetration of new ideas, still further
assisted by a well-organized system of primary instruction and a
military service, it is, however, rather from the material point of view
that the change has been most striking and rapid.
Without returning to the matter of the extraordinary rapidity of the
increase of industry, there is one subject connected with it which I
cannot forbear dwelling upon, and that is the excessive ability with
which the Japanese have succeeded in organizing certain public services
introduced from the West in such a manner as to place them within the
reach of even the poorest. In many European colonies the high tariff of
the rail and postal services deters the natives from using them; but in
Japan it is otherwise. There you pay on the railway ¾d. a mile first
class, ½d. second, and ¼d. third, which latter is used by the majority
of the people, and the total returns for 2,290 miles of Japanese rail,
notwithstanding these low rates, reached in 1895 £1,878,600 (of which
£1,179,600 were paid by travellers), as against £766,300 for expenses,
the profits being £1,112,300, or about 10 per cent. upon the outlay
capital, which was £11,649,200. The post is also extremely cheap in
Japan, ½d. being charged for letters and ¼d. for post-cards. In 1896–97
503,000,000 objects passed through the post-office, of which 263,000,000
were post-cards, 122,000,000 letters, and 87,000,000 newspapers. The
preponderating number of post-cards, which surpasses that of letters, is
strikingly in contradistinction to what one observes in every other
country, and is a proof of the economical habits of the people and of
their appreciation of this cheap method of correspondence. The
enthusiasm with which the population profits by all the innovations
introduced from the West is a convincing proof of the very slight
resistance which the implanting of our civilization receives. Yet
another favourable sign is the exceptional number of students in the new
universities and public schools of all descriptions. Practical science,
law, and medicine attract the majority of the students, and already many
of them have attained marked success in their several careers. As an
example, I may mention that it was a Japanese who discovered the microbe
of the bubonic plague. The Japanese are sometimes, and possibly with
some truth, accused of lacking the inventive faculty; but those peoples
who are from many points of view at the head of civilization at the
present day, the English and the Americans, are not those among whom the
power of invention is exceptionally prominent. It is in France or in
Germany that the principles of nearly all modern discoveries have been
found, but it is in England and the United States that their application
has been perfected. No one, however, can refuse the Japanese this latter
gift, and they unquestionably possess an almost excessive faculty of
attention to minute detail. Possibly they have not so far materially
assisted in advancing science, and surely it is somewhat premature to
pronounce judgment on this subject; but with good technical teachers—and
everything points that they will have them—they can certainly soon
acclimatize European civilization in their country, precisely as they
did in days of old that of China, but only on the condition that they
keep themselves well in touch with Europe.
Their principal danger, however, seems to me to consist in their
attempting to isolate themselves too much, and to believe that they have
learnt everything that can be taught them, and consequently have no
further use for their masters. Perhaps, too, in certain cases they have
got rid only too quickly of the services of foreign functionaries and
councillors. Throughout the whole of the eighteenth century Russia, so
to speak, modelled herself on the German plan, and Japan would also do
well not to forget too hastily the advice of Western teachers. Already a
certain amount of negligence is noticeable in the post-office and on the
railways, whose systems are occasionally dislocated by many
irregularities and also by a certain carelessness, usually attributed to
excess of work or to the breakdown of machinery, but which is more
probably due to the inexperience of the public servants of the entire
hierarchy. The fact is, Japan does not at present value the most
characteristic feature of modern civilization—punctuality; but, to be
just, when we consider the indolent habits of Asiatics in general, we
should not be surprised at this, rather the contrary. It would, however,
be well for the Japanese, until they have got thoroughly trained to an
appreciation of the value of time, to retain officials who will remind
them of its importance.
It may also be added that in the commercial development considerable
inexperience and too great zeal in every branch, industrial, financial,
and commercial, has been displayed: in the over-rapid increase, for
instance, of banks and companies of all kinds, in the mismanagement of
new societies, and in the abuse that has frequently been made of credit.
All these things are new to Japan, and they have occasionally not been
treated as they should have been. We have bestowed so much praise on the
economical development of the country that we may surely be allowed to
observe that much has been done too quickly. But this has been the case
in all new countries, in the two Americas, as well as in Australia, and
one must not therefore be too severe on Japan in this respect, but also
not surprised if it occasionally results in the paralysis of business
and even in an occasional crisis. As often occurs, a rise in salaries
accompanied industrial expansion, and proved very inconvenient to export
industries, all the more so as these are for the most part mainly
nominal, and prices rose almost immediately. During the last two years
an inverse movement has taken place, and we must do the Japanese the
justice to say that when they saw the danger they displayed considerable
sagacity, and both the Government and the public expressed a wish to
limit their desire for expansion. If there were serious economic
difficulties in Japan in 1897–98, they seem now to have passed away;
they were but the result of over-activity, and the present outlook in
the Mikado’s dominion, although not as brilliant as it was immediately
after the war, is once more normal.
The transitory troubles of the Empire of the Rising Sun will not, in our
opinion, become very grave if the Japanese thoroughly understand that it
is to their interest rather to increase their contact with foreigners
than to limit it. Since 1889 there has existed in Japan a reactionary
movement against strangers, which apparently reached its culminating
point in 1896, and now seems gradually diminishing. It is sincerely to
be hoped that this feeling of suspicion will absolutely disappear. One
of the numerous reasons which contributed to raise a certain hostility
against Europeans was their attitude with respect to the renewal of the
treaties. This important question, which so closely concerned the
relations between the Japanese and foreigners, has now been settled, and
if Japanese statesmen are well inspired, the solution that has been
arrived at should greatly enhance the true interests of their country.
Almost immediately after the Restoration, the Government of the Mikado
expressed the desire to revise the treaties concluded between it and the
foreign Powers during the last years of the old regime. What it most
desired was to abrogate the extra-territorial privileges granted to
strangers, and to render them responsible to the native tribunals. It
also hoped to re-possess itself of the right to modify the Custom-house
tariff, which was very low, not with a view to protection, but in order
to augment the revenues. In exchange for these concessions Japan offered
to open the country to Europeans, to allow them to reside and to
establish their industries anywhere outside of the five ports in which
they had hitherto been confined. Joint negotiations were opened with the
seventeen Powers who had signed the treaties on several occasions, but
without favourable results, and the check they received in 1897 greatly
irritated public opinion in Japan. The Government then decided to
negotiate separately through the intermediary of its representatives in
Europe. The first success was with England, by the treaty concluded in
1894; the other nations followed suit, and the new treaties were
enforced on July 17th, 1899.
For several years, however, a change had taken place in public opinion
in Japan, and many people began to think that it might be as dangerous
to completely open the country to foreigners as to grant them privileges
of proprietorship. ‘They are much richer than we are,’ said they, ‘and
will buy up all our lands and strip us of our resources, so that in time
we shall cease to be masters in our own house.’ On the other hand, the
Europeans began to make an outcry at the thought that they would be
obliged to submit to Japanese jurisdiction, which, although founded on
the European system, might be misapplied by the Yellow people, who were
still barbarians, and who might use it to make the existence of
foreigners in Japan intolerable. Both views of the case were
exaggerated, and rendered the task of the various diplomatists an
exceedingly difficult one. Diplomacy, however, carried the day, not
without sacrificing the proposed absolute equality of rights between
Japanese and foreigners.
The new treaties accepted the Japanese desideratum respecting the
suppression of consular tribunals and European municipalities, but
foreigners were, in their turn, to renounce proprietary rights. The
English treaty thus summarizes the principal concessions granted: ‘All
members of the principal contracting parties may carry on any wholesale
or retail business, in any sort of product, manufactures and
merchandise, personally or by their representatives, individually or
through an association, either with other foreigners or with natives;
and they shall have the right to possess, let or occupy houses, shops,
manufactories and other premises as they deem necessary, or to hire
lands, to live therein, or to engage therein in business, by conforming
themselves to the laws, and the police and Custom-house regulations of
the country, as if they were natives thereof.’ This gave rise to
considerable controversy. It confirmed the right of foreigners to
possess, let or occupy houses and divers places of business, but on the
other hand, it only allowed them to rent land, which according to
Japanese law can only be hired on short leases of between thirty and
fifty years, as the case may be, which is, of course, a great hindrance
to the installation of any important industry.
This apparent contradiction formed the subject of an agitated
controversy carried on by the English papers printed at the various
ports, which pointed out with rather thoughtless acrimony that the new
treaty was only intended as a blind to deprive foreigners of their
extra-territorial liberties. They forgot that outside of property and of
the leasehold system the Japanese code contains another method of
tenure, called ‘Surface Right,’ whereby the purchaser of a piece of land
has the right to everything that is on the surface thereof (excepting
the crops), that is, to plant or cut down trees and to build thereon.
One can purchase the surface of the land in accordance with Japanese law
for as long a period of time as one likes, a thousand years even, either
on payment by instalments or complete purchase. For any enterprise which
is not purely agricultural this purchase is equivalent to absolute
possession of the land.
Foreigners can thus establish industries in Japan, and it is therefore
to the interests of the Japanese to encourage them so to do. Private
individuals, as well as the Government, ought to do everything they can
to attract foreign capital, but this can only be done in the case of
industrial enterprises by allowing foreigners to take the direction of
affairs. I have been asked whether it is not possible to induce foreign
capitalists to lend their money on sharing terms to Japanese companies
as they do to the American railways, without taking any part in the
direction, but I am afraid this is a hope the Japanese would do well not
to entertain. Whether it be through prejudice or otherwise, it is quite
certain that Europeans will do nothing of the sort, and the Japanese
seem to be aware of the fact, and several railway companies have
modified their statutes in order to admit a clause whereby foreigners
can become shareholders; but as the Japanese possess all the land over
which the lines run as well as the stations, I do not think that this
proposition can be legal. It is, therefore, to be regretted that public
opinion has not insisted upon a concession of the right of
proprietorship being bestowed upon foreigners.
It is, however, not improbable that before long the Legislature may get
over this difficulty by deciding that in companies constituted according
to Japanese laws, and registered in Japan, the members, though they be
foreigners, become thereby Japanese citizens, and can also be absolute
land-owners. However, on all points the Japanese Government, supported
by Parliament and public opinion, has taken the necessary precautions to
apply the new treaties in the most liberal manner possible. If there
have been some unfavourable verdicts pronounced in the Japanese
tribunals in the short time they have been in existence, these have
generally been revised on appeal. The greater experience gained by
contact between the Japanese and Europeans, and the wish to see foreign
capital collaborating in the development of the resources of the
country, will doubtless suggest, little by little, new measures
calculated to smooth down any feeling of irritation between the native
and the foreign population. If there still exists a feeling of hatred of
the foreigner among individual fanatics, a certain ill-will in the lower
and more ignorant class of the people, some abuse of authority among
inferior officials, the Government of the Mikado is too sagacious to
allow any flagrant cause of annoyance to disturb European residents,
which would soon be resented by their respective Governments and might
even lead to the scattering of the fruits of thirty years’ progressive
effort.
Japan has already done much, but especially because she has done so much
in so short a time, and because the immense majority of her inhabitants
had no idea thirty years ago of European affairs, and therefore have no
means of comparison, they are apt to exaggerate their progress, however
marvellous it may be, and consequently they are not in a position to
notice that certain European importations come to them slightly
deteriorated. Foreigners act the part of critics, and even if their
criticism is sometimes severe, it is nevertheless useful. The
functionaries and the young men who are sent on foreign missions also
fulfil the same critical office, and this is an additional reason why
the Government is so wise in maintaining these missions. Unless, indeed,
from time to time the new civilization which has been imported in Japan
is refreshed at its primary source, it will soon run a risk of losing
strength, and, for the matter of that, any people, even European, that
isolated itself too much and became absorbed in self-admiration, would
inevitably deteriorate. It is not belittling the extraordinary progress
so rapidly accomplished by the Empire of the Rising Sun to say that it
can only be perfected if the people of that wonderful country remain in
contact with the inhabitants of Europe and America.
PART III.—CHINA
CHAPTER I
THE CHINESE PROBLEM
Actual position of the Far Eastern Question—The Sick Man of Peking—The
wealth of his heritage—The immense resources of the soil and
subsoil of China, the latter of which is still virgin—The results
which may be expected from the opening up of China—Change in the
attitude of the Powers towards the Celestial Empire since the
Japanese victories revealed its weakness—The origins of the Far
Eastern problem.
The decisive victory which Japan obtained over China five years ago
revealed to the civilized world the existence in the East of Asia of
another Sick Man, an even greater invalid and infinitely richer than the
better known patient at Constantinople. Four times the size, and twelve
or fifteen times more densely peopled than the Ottoman Empire, China
contains a much smaller proportion of deserts, her resources are greater
and far more varied, and her inhabitants are not only more industrious,
but more peaceful and apparently much easier to govern. Therefore, at
the end of the nineteenth century—when the material wealth of a country
is of far greater importance than its historical memories, and men are
more eager to discover fresh openings for enterprise, new lands to
cultivate, or mines to exploit than relics to preserve or peoples to
liberate—Europe abandons the bedside of the Grand Turk to occupy herself
with her chances of inheriting far greater riches from the Son of
Heaven. The Sick Man on the shores of the Bosphorus may be afflicted
with some dreadful convulsion or crisis in his illness, but the nations
pretend not to perceive his contortions, and joyfully welcome any
evidence of even a feeble return to health; in a word, they only seek to
prolong his existence. If the preservation of peace in Europe has its
share in this attitude, the wish not to be disturbed in the work which
she pursues in China has also its share in the position which Russia and
more than one other Power have assumed with regard to the Chinese
Empire.
The fact is, the nations have promised themselves a booty in the Middle
Kingdom as precious as it is easy to obtain. China from this point of
view is worth a great deal more than Turkey, or even Africa, which
Europe has so eagerly sought to divide. Although less extensive than the
Dark Continent, China is much more thickly peopled, and the climate is
less unhealthy, access easier, the rivers more navigable, and the soil
far more fertile. The patient and laborious Chinese will eventually
facilitate the exploitation of the wealth of their vast territory, which
is more than can ever be expected from the barbarous, ignorant and
indolent peoples of Africa.
The resources of China are greater than those of Africa, and many of
them are still absolutely undeveloped. The Chinese peasants, moreover,
are among the best agriculturists in the world. As evidence of this
assertion, it should be remembered that, by the perfection of their
method of cultivation, they extract from the soil of their plains
sufficient to enable their rural population to multiply in a manner
unknown in the Western world. Certain provinces in the Valley of the
Yang-tsze-Kiang—Shan-tung, Hu-pe, Kiang-su, and others—in spite of their
being purely agricultural, are as densely peopled as Belgium, and we may
further observe that, as is the case throughout the Far East, wherever
rice dominates, the mountain regions are almost uninhabited. If the soil
is admirably cultivated, the subsoil, on the other hand, is absolutely
neglected, and only an insignificant quantity of coal is extracted from
the immense coal-beds which cover over 40,000 square miles on the banks
of the Yellow River, in the plains of Hu-nan, and under the terraces of
Shan-si, which, together with those equally important in the basin of
Shan-tung, were so highly extolled by the celebrated traveller
Richthofen. The coal-beds in Central China appear to be even more
extensive, and the carboniferous basin of Sze-chuan, where there is also
petroleum, covers an area equal to half France. The coal-beds of Hu-nan
are also very considerable, and minerals are equally abundant. The
copper-mines of Yunnan are so rich as to have proved one of the chief
inducements that attracted the French to Tongking. Mines of precious ore
are known to exist in many other places, but, notwithstanding their very
ancient civilization, the Chinese have scarcely touched the wealth
beneath their feet. In this respect they have proved themselves inferior
to the classical nations of antiquity, and have left their riches to be
garnered by foreigners.
We can form some idea of the development of which China is susceptible
by considering the example of two other Asiatic nations placed in much
the same conditions—British India and Japan. India, with all her
dependencies, is about a sixth larger than China proper, but contains
only about three-quarters of the number of her inhabitants; yet although
her subsoil is much less rich and her population far more indolent than
the Chinese, she carries on double the trade with Europe that the
Chinese Empire does. Japan, nine times smaller and nine times less
peopled than China, but reformed by an enlightened Government and by the
introduction of European methods, has seen her commerce rise in thirty
years from £5,000,000 to £44,000,000, more than three-quarters higher
than that of her enormous but stationary neighbour.
Unfortunately, an imbecile Government, as corrupt as it is absurdly
exclusive, impedes the progress of China with far greater obstinacy than
do the prejudices of her people. So long as the illusion lasted as to
the power of this unwieldy Empire, no one ventured to tear from it by
force what it was imagined could be obtained by persuasion, and the
nations resigned themselves to permit the immense resources of the
interior to remain untouched, contenting themselves merely with the
opening of a few ports to commerce. But in 1894 the brilliant victories
of the Japanese revealed to an astonished world the weakness of the
colossus, its corruption, and utter incapacity to regenerate itself;
hence the reason why the Chino-Japanese War may be rightly considered
one of the greatest events in contemporary history. From it dates the
change in the attitude of the foreign Powers towards the Celestial
Empire. They now command where formerly they begged, and have mustered
up courage to force the Son of Heaven to put a price on the treasures of
his Empire, or else to allow them to do so in his stead. If they have
not already divided up his territory, they mortgage portions of his
provinces, and obtain mining, railway, and all sorts of other
concessions. In the eyes of the Powers China is no longer a country to
be counted with as a probable ally, but merely one which they may one
day reduce to vassalage.
In 1895, after the conclusion of the war, Russia inaugurated the new
policy with respect to China. She was at that time the only European
nation that seemed to have any idea of the weakness of China, and was
already preparing, by the construction of the Trans-Siberian Railway, to
play an important part in the Far East. Germany, France, and England in
1897 obtained the ‘leases’ of various strategical points on the coast
and the recognition of what they were pleased to call ‘spheres of
influence.’ Russia now returned to the game, and Japan also took a part
in the struggle. From the middle of 1898 a lull has occurred, which
recent events, however, have disturbed and proved that the Far Eastern
problem is far from settled. It would certainly have surprised men who
were living at the beginning of this dying century if they had been told
that it would close before the Grand Turk was driven out of Europe, and
yet the destinies of Eastern Asia are even now far from being
determined. The problems which rise round the future of the Celestial
Empire are neither less grave nor less complicated now than they ever
were. Although China is infinitely less heterogeneous than Turkey, she
runs the same dangers from internal disturbance; for she is governed by
a foreign dynasty and honeycombed by secret societies. The Central
Government is feeble and without cohesion. On the other hand, the
rivalry which exists between the European Powers, to whom should be
added the United States and Japan, is not less active in the East than
it is in the West of Asia. The only, but still enormous, result which
has been more or less definitely obtained consequent upon the events of
the last five years—the end of the isolation from Europe in which China
has hitherto existed, and her being brought for the first time since the
beginning of her history into contact with a civilization which has
developed quite independently of her own—creates a situation of the
intensest interest. If the lack of military qualities among the Chinese
and the insufficiency in numbers of the Japanese renders the Yellow
Peril, comparatively speaking, little to be feared from the war side of
the question, many people, and among them the most enterprising
representatives of European civilization, the Americans and Australians,
are greatly exercised over the matter from the economic point of view.
It would, however, be presumptuous to attempt to prophesy what would be
the consequences of the dissolution of the Chinese Empire through
internal disorder, or of its partition amongst the Powers in consequence
of an international treaty, or after a war which would be sure to become
universal, or even of the reawakening of this oldest State in the world
by the introduction of Western ideas and methods, or finally of a
struggle between the White and the Yellow races; but it is comparatively
easy, now that the question poses itself for the first time, to
determine its multiple elements, to study the relative position of its
diverse factors, the near prospect of their action, and the situation of
the patient round whose sick-bed eagerly press the many doctors and
heirs of so wealthy an invalid as China.