THE BEGINNINGS OF THE IMPERIAL CHINESE CUSTOMS--A VISIT TO
SIR FREDERICK BRUCE--THE SHERARD OSBORNE AFFAIR--APPOINTED
INSPECTOR-GENERAL
When Robert Hart joined the Chinese Imperial Maritime Customs, the
service was already four years old. 1854--the very year he passed
through Shanghai on his way to Ningpo--saw its beginning as an
international institution. A Chinese Superintendent had hitherto
collected duties for his Government, but, owing to the capture
of Shanghai by the rebels, affairs became so disorganized that he
appealed to the three Consuls of Great Britain, France and the United
States for help, and they responded by each appointing one of
their nationals to assist him in securing an honest and efficient
administration.
As far as the Chinese Government was concerned, the triumvirate
gave immediate and entire satisfaction. Duties increased, smuggling
diminished--all as a result of the new system, which was continued, by
the express desire of the Chinese officials, even after the city was
recaptured by the Imperial troops.
But the merchants on their side had no praise for an arrangement that
cut large slices off their profits. They found it exceedingly annoying
to be obliged to give the correct weight of their tea and silk under
penalty of forfeiture; as for calmly landing and shipping their goods
without permits, this was now out of the question. Yet what could they
do to circumvent these innovations? Nothing--but put every conceivable
difficulty, large and small, ingenious and obvious, in the way of the
new inspectors.
The Frenchman presently withdrew, the American, a consular official,
resigned in 1856, and the Englishman, Mr. (afterwards Sir Thomas)
Wade, a sensitive man, unable to endure the social boycott imposed on
him, did likewise. Mr. H.N. Lay, Vice-Consul and Interpreter in the
British Consulate at Shanghai, was then appointed to succeed Mr. Wade,
and, as the two other Powers concerned did not appoint successors
to their original nominees, he thereafter managed Chinese Customs
business alone.
Such, briefly told, is the history of the service which Robert Hart
joined as Deputy-Commissioner at Canton in 1859 at the suggestion of
the Canton Viceroy, Laou Tsung Kwang--which he was to build up and in
which he was to make his great name and reputation. From the first
he did better than well. He set to work at once on a series of
regulations for Custom House management. They were greatly needed--all
the internal arrangements of the infant service were in a chaotic
condition--and they were also greatly praised. The Viceroy himself was
delighted. Here was his own young _protégé_, by his diligence, by
his practical business capacity, by his unusual willingness to accept
responsibility and by the promises of administrative ability he was
giving, proving himself the very man to make the newly organized
Customs a success. The Viceroy had chosen better than he knew.
Two years--from 1859 to 1861--Robert Hart spent in Canton setting
affairs in order and working very hard in a hot, damp climate.
Curiously enough he was never ill, though many men of far greater
physical strength, of far tougher build, wilted in that steaming
atmosphere; he himself was always too busy, I think, for symptoms and
sickness.
During those years he had an unexpected meeting with an old friend.
Word having been brought to him that a ship from Macao was expected to
load teas at Komchuk--a place inland not open to trade--he started off
with a posse of tidewaiters on the revenue cruiser _Cumfa_, to seize
her. She was a shabby little vessel; her paint was scratched, her name
almost obliterated. Almost, but not quite; he was able to make out the
word _Shamrock_ at her bow, and on careful inquiry identified her as
the very vessel on which he had travelled to England as a boy; but
alas! a _Shamrock_ fallen on evil days, dilapidated by doubtful
adventures in distant seas, and debased to the low company of
smugglers.
In 1861 chance, luck, or Providence--call it what you will--once
again interfered in the humdrum routine of events to give Hart the
opportunity he had come half-way across the world to meet. A riot
broke out at Shanghai, and Mr. Lay, as he was walking down the main
street, was attacked by a man with a long knife and so severely
wounded that he was obliged to go to England on two years' leave in
order to recover his health.
Two of his subordinates were made Officiating Inspector-Generals in
his place: Fitzroy, formerly private secretary to Lord Elgin, at that
time Shanghai Commissioner, and Robert Hart. Both men had excellent
qualities; but while Fitzroy, who knew no Chinese, was content to
remain at Shanghai, his more active and energetic colleague travelled
to and fro establishing new offices.
The Tientsin Treaties having recently opened more ports to trade, and
the Chinese Government having repeatedly approved of the golden stream
of revenue pouring into their Treasury, Customs administration was
extended up and down the coasts as fast as the ports could be declared
"open"--to Ningpo, Foochow, Amoy, Swatow, Chinkiang, even so far north
as Tientsin, and British, French or German Commissioners put in charge
of each, in order that the original international character of the
service might be preserved.
Most of these ports welcomed the new order of things; but at one,
notably Hankow, difficulties arose, and Hart promptly started to clear
them up. At the time of his going both Wuhu and Nanking, two cities
on the Yangtsze, were still in the hands of the rebels, and the
river-steamer captain warned his passengers that the ship would stop
at Wuhu to get her papers from them. "Take my advice," said he, "and
remain quietly in your cabin from the time we stop until we leave, for
the rebels have the habit of coming on board, and were they to find
a man like yourself, a Government agent on Government business, they
would certainly take you ashore. They usually only look about the
saloon, however, and do not examine the cabins, so you will be safe
enough if you stay in yours."
Robert Hart gratefully accepted the advice, and, sitting on the edge
of his bunk, listened to the rebels talking in the saloon outside,
till, with a sigh of relief, he heard them leave the ship and allow
her to proceed on her way. That the danger had been real enough the
deserted river proved; terror of these same revolutionaries had
swept the usually busy waterway clean of craft, and nothing further
disturbed the quiet but the hoarse honk of wild geese and the whirring
of ducks' wings.
At Hankow the Viceroy, Kwan Wen, was as friendly personally as he
was obstinate officially. He did not desire to see the new system
enforced. Again and again he politely told Robert Hart that he was
wasting his time--that it was quite useless his remaining longer.
But as Robert Hart listened with equal politeness and remained,
the Viceroy's patience finally began to wear thin. He then sent
a subordinate official to make one last effort to persuade the
Officiating Inspector-General to go. This failed, just as the other
attempts at persuasion had failed. Hart simply told the man that he
was acting under orders, and further hinted that when he reported to
Peking and the Emperor Tung Chih heard that difficulties had been made
about the establishment of the Customs at Hankow, it would not look
well. "But the Emperor's name is not Tung Chih," remarked the Taotai
scornfully. "You should know that as well as I." "To me," retorted
Robert Hart calmly, "it seems equally strange that you as a Chinese
official do not know the name of your own Emperor."
He thereupon went to a drawer, took out a new _Peking Gazette_
announcing the famous _coup d'état_ of November 2nd, 1861, when Prince
Soo Sun's party was absolutely overthrown by the party of Prince Kung
and the Emperor's official style altered from Chi Hsiang ("Lucky") to
Tung Chih ("Pull Together"), and handed it to him. The man was utterly
surprised. This was the very first news of the important event
to reach Hankow, and as soon as it became generally known all the
officials who had hitherto shaped their actions to please Prince Soo
were quick to change their attitude. Even the Viceroy promptly sent
for Hart and begged him, with every expression of cordiality, to do
just as he pleased about everything; above all, to proceed with his
business immediately.
A few weeks later, all being in working order, the Officiating
Inspector-General was on his way down the river again. He had a
message for the other Yangtsze Viceroy, Tseun Kuo Fan, and accordingly
paid five hundred taels (£70) to stop the little steamer _Poyang_
for two hours at Nanking in order to deliver it. This message was
comparatively prosaic, concerning as it did nothing more interesting
than the Viceroy's views relative to some unimportant trade matters.
But the Viceroy's answer is worth recording. "You have asked me my
opinion on many matters," said old Tseun. "Some of these must be
settled direct with the Wai-Wu-Pu (the Foreign Office at Peking).
But I will tell you this much now. Whatever is good for Chinese and
foreigners I will support; whatever is good for foreigners and does
not harm Chinese I will approve; but whatever is bad for Chinese, no
matter how good it is for foreigners, I will die rather than consent
to." In this grand old statesman's confession of his political faith
it is good to find a convincing answer to the arguments of those who
pretend that there are no patriots in China.
Robert Hart's next mission was to Peking itself, the grey, wall-ringed
mediæval city where he was afterwards to spend so many years,
and where he stayed with Sir Frederick Bruce at the British
Legation--then, as now, housed in a fine old Chinese building.
[Illustration: A VIEW OF PEKING SHOWING CONDITION OF ROADS.]
Sir Frederick Bruce was a most striking type of man, like a straight,
healthy tree, most cordial in manner, with a beautiful voice that made
even oaths sound like splendid oratory, a keen intelligence flavoured
with a pinch of humour, and a great gift of diplomatic suavity.
Between himself and young Robert Hart a bond of friendship rapidly
grew--strong enough to bear the lapse of time and even the occasional
bursts of frank criticism to which the host treated his guest. At
least on one occasion it was very sharp indeed. Hart and another young
man (afterwards Sir Robert Douglas) had gone riding in the outer city
of Peking on the fifth of the fifth moon--a feast day--when, on their
way home, a yelling mob collected around them, shouting disrespectful
names and even throwing things at them. True, they did it all in a
spirit of playfulness, but a moment or a trifle might easily have
turned mischief into malice, and, realizing this, Hart pulled up
at one of the shops in the big street and asked the shopkeeper, a
respectable greybeard, to tell the crowd not to pass his shop door.
"But," said the old fellow, "we have nothing to do with these people."
"I know that," was the reply, "but if they misbehave themselves I
shall not be able to report them, because they are vagabonds who
will disappear into the holes and corners of the city. They would
be impossible to find again, but you are a man with a fixed place of
residence; it will be easy enough to find you. I see, by the way, your
shop is called 'Renewed Affluence' on the signboard. And if you plead
that the affair was no business of yours, people will never believe
that a word from a respectable man like yourself would not suffice to
control a crowd of ragamuffins."
Hart's use of this argument, so peculiarly Chinese in its reasoning,
showed how well he already understood the character of the people--how
well he appreciated the underlying principle of their community
life, the responsibility of a man for his neighbour's behaviour. The
shopkeeper was, of course, duly impressed. He spoke to the crowd and
they melted away.
But when at luncheon Hart told his host how narrowly he had escaped
rough treatment, all the satisfaction he got was: "Served you right,
you two young fools, riding about where you were not wanted. Served
you right, I say. If I had been there I'd have had a shy at you
myself."
This remark was characteristic of Sir Frederick Bruce, who, either
from character or experience, or both, took a conservative view of
everything--even of trifles. I know Robert Hart afterwards attributed
some of his own caution to his friend's example. "In all things go
slowly," Bruce was wont to say in his booming, bell-like tone.
"Never be in a hurry---especially don't be in a hurry about answering
letters. If you leave things long enough and quiet enough they answer
themselves, whereas if you hurry matters balanced on the edge of a
precipice, they often topple over instead of settling and remaining
comfortably there for ever."
During Hart's visit to Peking a very important question arose
concerning the policing of the China Seas. Great Britain had
hitherto been doing the work, but the arrangement was considered
unsatisfactory. The first idea that China should invest in a fleet of
her own came up in the course of a friendly conversation between the
British Minister and the Officiating Inspector-General.
Later, when they had talked the subject over at length, and Bruce
asserted that Great Britain would probably be willing to lend officers
and sell ships of war to China for the nucleus of the proposed
navy, Hart laid the matter before Prince Kung. There were endless
negotiations, the difficulty and delicacy of which cannot be
exaggerated. But they ended satisfactorily.
[Illustration: A ROAD IN OLD PEKING DURING THE RAINY SEASON.]
Prince Kung memorialized the Throne, with the result that £250,000
was directed to be set aside for the purpose. Then, at Robert Hart's
suggestion, the money was sent to the Inspector-General--Mr.
Lay--to be spent by him in England, together with a long letter
of instructions (written by Prince Kung) urging Lay to purchase
everything as soon as possible, and to see that the "work put into the
vessels should be strong and the materials genuine."
This delicious phrase, a true touch of human nature, is solemnly
recorded in one of the despatches, and may still be seen in the
correspondence on the subject in the Blue Book for the year.
It is only fair to point out that it was Robert Hart who stated that
"the ability of the Inspector-General is great; that he possesses
a mind which embraces the minutest details, and is therefore fully
competent to make the necessary arrangements with a more than
satisfactory result," when he might so easily have used his great and
growing personal influence with the Chinese (he was a _persona grata_
with them from the beginning) to undermine his chief.
How the fleet "of genuine materials" came out with all despatch under
the celebrated Captain Sherard Osborne and various other officers
lent by the Admiralty, is a matter of history. The reputations of its
commanders--for all were men of distinction--should have ensured its
success if anything could have done so. But from the very moment the
fleet reached Shanghai there were misunderstandings. Captain Osborne
found himself subject to local officials whose control he resented.
The truth was Lay had somewhat altered the regulations drawn up by
Robert Hart and approved by Prince Kung, and had then told Captain
Osborne that of course the Chinese would agree to anything he wished.
Subsequent events proved him wrong, and showed that he had made the
fatal mistake of committing his employers too far. Perhaps this was
not unnatural considering that he was just then receiving the most
flattering notice from the British press and a C.B. from the British
Government for his services--yet it was none the less disastrous.
In May 1863 Lay returned to Shanghai, and, Robert Hart's acting
appointment having come to an end, he was made Commissioner at
Shanghai, with charge of the Yangtsze ports, the position being
specially created for him by Prince Kung in order to give him more
authority than would belong to the simple Commissioner of a port. That
same autumn the Sherard Osborne affair came to a crisis. Returning
from a trip up the Yangtsze, Hart found Lay and Li Hung Chang at
daggers drawn. The former had just peremptorily demanded a large sum
of money to provision the fleet, and the latter had flatly refused to
put his hand in his pocket without official orders to do so,
Robert Hart, who very shrewdly guessed at the real cause of the
misunderstanding, offered to go and see Li and explain. Very tactfully
he told Li that all Lay and Captain Osborne wanted was his formal
sanction to present at the bank, as without this the transaction would
not have the necessary official character. Li agreed readily enough
when the matter was presented in this light; what he had objected to
was Lay's abrupt demand to pay so many thousand taels out of his own
pocket immediately.
But no small manoeuvre such as this, however successful, could arrange
the larger matter. The fleet had been an utter failure. Osborne
himself was disgusted; the Chinese were dissatisfied. They therefore
made the best of a bad bargain, and sent the ships back to be sold
in England in order to prevent their falling into the hands of the
independent and quarrelsome Daimios of Japan, or, as Mr. Burlingame,
the United States Minister, greatly feared, into the hands of the
Confederates.
Thus ended a very curious incident which, by closing as it did,
undoubtedly set back the clock of reform in China. It may be that from
the political point of view this was as well; that, had the venture
been an unqualified success, the Chinese might have thrown themselves
too much into the arms of foreign Powers and tried to reform too
fast by slavish imitation instead of slowly working out their own
salvation.
As far as he was personally concerned the disastrous and expensive
failure long preyed upon Robert Hart's mind. He reproached himself
bitterly for the mistake. But the Chinese never attached the least
blame to him; they showed him no diminution of respect, rather an
increase. It was on the Inspector-General H.N. Lay that their wrath
fell. They considered that he had treated the whole matter too
high-handedly, and within three months they had dismissed him and
offered the post to Robert Hart. Of course the change gave rise to
much discussion, and Sherard Osborne went frankly to Hart and told him
how ill-natured people were hinting that he had intrigued against
Lay. The malignity of idle gossip, however, could not turn him back.
Knowing that he had worked as loyally for his chief as for himself, he
simply replied that if the public looked at it in that way, instead of
refusing he would certainly accept the post. I wonder if any instinct
told him that the great day of his life was when he _did_ accept it,
or if he had any premonition of the useful and romantic career before
him?
The characters of the two Inspector-Generals, the one outgoing, the
other incoming, contrasted very strangely. Lay was inclined to be
dictatorial and rather impatient of Chinese methods; an excellent
and clever man, but with one point of view and one only. Hart, on the
other hand, was tactful, patient, and, above all else, tolerant
of other people's prejudices. "To grow a little catholic," says
Stevenson, "is the compensation of years." But Robert Hart was
catholic in this broad sense even when he was young. He would
sometimes say that the habit of toleration he acquired at college, and
through the most simple incident.
Seven or eight of the Belfast students were one day asked to describe
what would seem to be the simplest thing in the world to describe--a
packing-case. And yet every man, after stating the simple fact that he
saw a packing-case, had something different to say about it. One, who
stood on the right, described an address written in black letters;
another, who stood at one end, dwelt on the iron hoops that bound the
box; a third gave prominence to the long nails studding a corner.
Thus each, according to his view-point, saw that same commonplace
packing-case in a different way. After this practical demonstration
Robert Hart never in his life could grow impatient with a man who did
not see exactly what he saw when both were standing on opposite sides
of a question.