IV. TIBET.

Sudden occupation of Korean harbour by Great Britain—Questioned by China, Japan, and Korea—Position condemned by naval authority—Abandoned on guarantee from China against occupation by other Powers.

"In view of potentialities" the British Government on April 14, 1885, sent instructions to Vice-Admiral Dowell to occupy Port Hamilton, an island harbour on the coast of Korea. This high-handed proceeding was justified on the plea of necessity—the necessity, as explained by Lord Granville, of anticipating the "probable occupation of the island by another Power." Naturally the measure disturbed neighbouring States, as well as the Government of Korea itself. China and Japan asked for explanations, and an agreement with the former, as suzerain of Korea, was about to be signed for the temporary use of the harbour by Great Britain, when the Russian Minister at Peking interposed with an intimation that if China consented to the occupation of Port Hamilton by Great Britain, Russia would compensate herself by the seizure ofsome other point of the Korean littoral. The protest of the Korean Government thus became merged in negotiations with China, but was never withdrawn.

While thesepour-parlerswere going on, the position of Port Hamilton was unequivocally condemned as a naval station by a succession of three admirals commanding the China Squadron; and as the immediate occasion of the occupation of the harbour had happily passed, there remained no ostensible reason for prolonging it. Before abandoning the island, however, the British Government hoped that some arrangement might be come to for an international guarantee of the integrity of Korea, which being already a bone of contention between certain Powers, and unable to defend its own independence, constituted a constant menace to the peace of the Far East. The proposal met with no favour from the Chinese Government, for the reason probably that it would have involved an organic change in its own relations with Korea. The next proposal came from the Korean Government itself, which suggested amodus vivendiby opening as treaty ports both Port Hamilton and Port Lazareff, which latter was the point Russia would have seized if she had seized anything. This idea was approved of by the British Government, but nothing came of it. Eventually the evacuation was agreed to on the assurance from China that neither Port Hamilton nor any other portion of Korean territory would in future be occupied by any other Power. This pledge China was enabled to give on the strength of an equivalent guarantee which she had received from Russia, that Power being then the only one considered as likely to cherish aggressive designs onthe Korean peninsula. These engagements were exchanged in November 1886, eighteen months after the occupation, and the British flag was finally hauled down on the island on February 27, 1887.

The net visible result of the incident was to confirm China in her suzerainty, since the negotiations were made with her and not with Korea, and to obtain a specific pledge from Russia that she would keep her hands off Korea "under any circumstances." It was argued seven years afterwards that Russia had broken her pledge by her interferences in Korean affairs, but in 1895 a new state of circumstances had been brought about. China in that year ceased to be the suzerain of Korea, and obligations which were valid under the oldrégimenecessarily lapsed. A new page of history was turned, and Korea attained the status of a nominally independent kingdom.

Lhassa visited by Babu Sarat Chandra Das—Proposed commercial expedition—Originated by Secretary of State—Envoy sent to Peking to obtain passport—Opposition organised by Chinese and Tibetans—Mission withdrawn.

The year 1885 witnessed the first act in the ill-advised policy—as to its method, not its object—of the Indian Government of opening commercial relations with Tibet. A learned Bengali pandit, versed in Tibetan, had made two successful visits to Lhassa, where he gained the friendship of the lamas, who invited him to come again. A fair prospect of opening commercial relations by gradually disarming prejudicesand apprehension was thus presented. Having duly reported his experiences to the Government of India, the babu waited their pleasure as to further developments at Darjeeling, where he occupied the post of Government schoolmaster. An English civilian, making the acquaintance of the babu in that hot-weather retreat, conceived the idea of an official mission to Lhassa, in which the services of the babu might be utilised as guide and interpreter. The Indian Government was averse from the enterprise on economical if on no other grounds, but direct pressure being brought to bear on the India Office in London, the ambitious young statesman who then presided over its counsels is said to have espoused the proposal and overruled the reluctant Government of India.

Of the organisation and procedure of the mission nothing very complimentary can be said. Instead of following the line of least resistance, of driving in the thin end of the wedge, in accordance with the commonplace maxims consecrated by all human experience, the reverse process was followed in every single particular. Sarat Chandra Das had shown the way, and the entry he had effected could have been gradually widened by himself and others of his own class until the obstacles to free commercial intercourse had been overcome. The experience of a hundred years had shown to the world the invincible prejudices of the Tibetan rulers against foreign visitors. The babu had in his own person conquered these prejudices by his mastery of Buddhistic lore, as well as by his gentleness and consummate tact; but the mission, which had its origin in the information hesupplied, discarded his methods and proceeded on military lines. Itspersonnelincluded politicals and scientists, but no commercial agent, and as Mr Gundry has well said, "The Under Secretary of State, while stating that the object of the mission was to confer with the Chinese commissioners and the Lhassa Government as to the resumption of commercial relations between India and Tibet," added in Parliament that, "looking to the delicate nature of the mission, it had not been thought advisable to appoint a special commercial representative." An armed force of some 300 men sent on a "delicate mission" which, though essentially commercial, yet had nothing commercial in its composition! Could anything be conceived more certain to arouse the sleeping suspicions of the Tibetans? It was but repeating on a larger scale the deplorable fiasco of Colonel Browne's attempted march from Burma to China in 1875.

The first act in this little drama was performed in Peking when the envoy, Macaulay, arrived with his staff for the ostensible purpose of applying for a passport for Tibet. For such a purpose there was no need to have sent a special messenger to Peking at all, as a passport could have been much more easily obtained by the British Minister there and transmitted by post in the ordinary course of business. The passport could not, of course, be refused in plain terms by the Chinese Government, but the personal demand for it gave them the opportunity of cross-examining the intended envoy as to the objects of his proposed mission. It may well be believed, from the self-contradictory explanation of the mission tendered to the British Parliament, that the envoy inPeking failed to allay the suspicions of the Chinese Government. On the contrary, his presence intensified them exceedingly. The sole effect of the preliminary expedition to Peking was, in fact, to forewarn the Chinese Government, so that they, in concert with the rulers of Tibet, should be prepared to interpose obstacles to the advance of the mission, but in such a way as not openly to compromise the good faith of the Chinese Government. The journey of the envoy to Peking, therefore, sealed the fate of his own mission, and at the same time closed Tibet against more judicious advances in the future.

The most interesting episode in connection with this abortive effort was the appearance of the Babu Sarat Chandra Das himself in the Chinese capital. By sheer force of intellect he succeeded in a few days in obtaining the confidence of the inner circle of the lamas there. Having been brought in contact with a certain Manchu official, the pandit showed very unobtrusively a familiarity with the more recondite tenets of Buddhism which captivated the Manchu, whose heart was set on improving his knowledge of the sacred mysteries.[24]The babu could speak no Chinese, but it was not difficult among the thousands of lamas in Peking to find a competent Tibetan interpreter. The fame of the pandit spread rapidly among the ranks of the priesthood, whose chiefs competed for the honour of sitting at the feet of the Indian Gamaliel. In expounding the doctrines, while enjoying the hospitality, of different groups of lamas, the popularity of the pandit grew from day to day, until he was at length constrained to take up hisquarters at the great Yellow Temple, outside the north wall of Peking, and live with the brethren. They invested him with the yellow robe and the other ecclesiastical insignia, and treated him altogether as one of the initiated. It required all his acumen to prevent his status as a Buddhist lama from clashing with his position as a subordinate of the Indian envoy, on whom he was in attendance. He had to pay frequent visits to the British Legation, where it would have been impossible for him to appear in his religious vestments without exciting inconvenient gossip, and perhaps incurring the disapproval of his superior officer. The custom of travelling in Peking in closed carts enabled the babu to play the double part of Jekyll and Hyde with perfect success. He would leave the Temple as a lama, drive to a friend's rooms in the city, where his Indian costume was kept ready, in which he proceeded in another cab and in another character to the British Legation, returning to reassume his yellow robes and then repair to the Temple.

During the time when the envoy designate remained in Peking a very high personage arrived from Tibet, and it was on his conferences with the Chinese Court that the success of the intended mission depended. It would be presumptuous on the part of any foreigner to attempt to divine what passed between the delegate from the Grand Lama and the Chinese Ministers; but were it possible for any one to penetrate into those secret counsels, the babu was the man to do it. There is no doubt that he did. In fact, he had positive information that the Indian mission to Tibet would be stopped at the instance of the Chinese Government, and that the issue of the passport was an emptyform. Such information would naturally be unwelcome to the envoy, and the sequel seems to show that the warning was disregarded. The expedition was organised, fully equipped, ready for a march into Tibet. Had it proceeded it is highly improbable that the babu would have accompanied it as interpreter, for he could not have exonerated himself from the imputation of bad faith towards his Tibetan hosts in acting as guide to an armed force into a country where he had been received and reinvited as a private guest.

What would have been the consequence of the mission proceeding into Tibet it is, of course, impossible to say, but the circumstances of its recall were not conducive to satisfactory relations between China and Great Britain. Mistrusting the effectiveness of the Tibetan opposition to the Indian mission—for the force could very likely have made good its passage to Lhassa—the Chinese Government resorted to diplomatic means of stopping its advance. Its never-failing emergency man, the Inspector-General of Customs, was called upon, and he intervened with the British Government with such good effect that they sent orders to India to stop the Tibetan mission. Thus the Indian Government was a second time overruled: first, in being made to organise the mission against its will; and secondly, in being forced to recall it when its recall involved immeasurable loss of influence in future dealings with China. An attempt was made to cover the retreat in a cloud of verbiage by a convention signed at Peking in 1886, which, however, only made the case worse, in that it was a retrograde step, virtually cancelling the right of visiting Tibet, which had beenconferred by the Chefoo convention of ten years before. The same treaty which embodied this renunciation, perhaps the weakest to which any British representative ever set his name, also fostered the illusions which have been so detrimental to the welfare of China, by promising a continuance of the tribute missions from Burma after that country had become an integral part of the Indian Empire.

The fruits of this diplomatic surrender were not long in showing themselves, for it was soon followed by an invasion of British Sikkim from the Tibetan side. This aggression of the lamas was of necessity resisted by the Indian Government, and an unexpected opportunity was thus offered to them of settling the whole Tibetan question by the rapid march of a small force to Lhassa. There is good reason to believe that this solution of the difficulty was the one which commended itself to the practical statesmen and soldiers of India; but their action was paralysed by the orders of the Home Government, which continued to be ruled by influences which were neither military nor political nor practical. Discussions between the Indian Government and the Chineseambanor Resident at Lhassa, professing to speak for the Tibetan Lama Government, were protracted year after year, and seemed interminable. At last even the Chinese themselves grew weary of the comedy, and experienced in Tibet something of the difficulty which occasionally beset them in China—that is to say, they were unable to exorcise the demon they had invoked. They had stirred up the Tibetans to the point of obstructing the Macaulay mission, but seemed really to lose control of the force after it had been set in motion. Aftersome years of futile talk the statesmen of China would perhaps have hailed with satisfaction the advance of a British force to Lhassa to cut the Gordian knot; but they dared not, of course, give such a hint as was conveyed to Captain Fournier,"Avancez donc,"[25]and the Indian Government, not having the wit to divine it, had to submit to a long-drawn-out and permanent humiliation, that was in no wise mended by the Calcutta convention of 1890, which, professing only to settle the existing frontiers, did not even settle them.

Character and position of Prince Ch'un—Had been misunderstood by foreigners while he was in seclusion—An amiable and progressive man—His visit to Port Arthur in 1886—Intercourse with many foreigners.

The spring of 1884 witnessed a ministerial crisis of the first order in Peking. For twenty-four years Prince Kung, uncle to the deceased emperor Tungchih, had held a position equivalent to Chancellor of the empire. To the outside world he was only known as Minister for Foreign Affairs and head of the Tsungli-Yamên. During the greater part of the time he had been at feud with the empress-regent, from whom his power was derived, but, being indispensable to her, he was tolerated for want of a competent successor. The troubles in Tongking caused an agitation in the capital, and the empress seized the opportunity to dismiss Prince Kung with most of his colleagues of the Yamên and introduce a fresh set. The eminent position of theprince, however, was one difficult to fill; but the substitution was effected by a kind ofcoup d'étatby which the empress brought the younger brother of Prince Kung out of his retirement and made him virtually, as far as it was possible, her coadjutor in the Government. But the peculiar status of Prince Ch'un, as father to the reigning emperor, rendered him immune from responsibility, since in China the son could not place the father under discipline. For this reason the prince could not in his own name exercise any of the great functions of the State. He was therefore obliged to keep in the background, while the executive service was performed by his nominees. Thus in foreign affairs he was efficiently represented by the Grand Secretary Li Hung-chang, and by Prince Ch'ing, a junior member of the imperial family, who was made president of the Tsungli-Yamên, and holds the office to the present day.

Whatever the true motives may have been for recasting the Tsungli-Yamên—and it would be hazardous for any foreigner to dogmatise about such matters—a great improvement was remarked in the efficiency of that body. Prince Ch'ing, though new to public affairs, acquitted himself like a gentleman, and gained the goodwill of all the foreign Legations by his laborious efforts to learn his work and to bring justice and reason as well as courtesy into the transaction of business. The circumstances of the time were also favourable to improvement; for being at war with one great Power, China was naturally most anxious to conciliate the others. While this amenable temper lasted, business was despatched by the Tsungli-Yamên with a celerity never before known, and good usewas made of the opportunity to clear off legacies of arrears that had been accumulating in the foreign legations.

The Seventh Prince, so long as he was in seclusion, had stood in the opinion of foreigners for everything that was fanatical, obstructive, and irreconcilable, the head of the war party, and so forth. Even Sir Rutherford Alcock, in an article on Chinese Statesmen in 1871, adopted this popular estimate, calling him "violently hostile, joining with Wo in all efforts to make the anti-foreign faction predominate."

The announcement of Prince Ch'un, therefore, as the successor of Prince Kung not unnaturally aroused apprehension of a reactionary policy. His first public act, however, in so far as it was his, dispelled the misconception under which foreigners had been labouring for many years: it was to conclude a peace with France in the face of a rabid opposition. This misconception of Prince Ch'un's character and policy is only an example of how vain it is for foreigners to attempt to sound the currents of Chinese politics, more especially where palace factions are concerned.

The advent of the Seventh Prince having removed all friction between the empress-regent and the Government, it was a signal for tentative reforms and what foreigners call progress. Li Hung-chang had to a considerable extent imbued the Court with his own ideas. He assured them there was no danger in adopting foreign methods and foreign manners,—on the contrary, that to do so was the only means of safety to the empire. Within a few months of his taking the reins, the Prince established a precedent which amounted to a small revolution in itsway. He began to transact business through his agents with foreigners in the capital itself, which had been up to that time strictly preserved from all contamination of foreign trade. The two "stores" which existed were not traders by right, but were under the special protection of certain foreign Ministers, who had represented to the Government the necessity of such agencies for the supply of necessaries for the use of their Legations. This was followed in course of time by the introduction of novelties in the palace, such as electric light, toy railways and steam launches in the imperial pleasure-grounds. The telegraph wire itself was introduced into the city during the summer of 1884, it having been previously jealously kept at a distance of thirteen miles, from superstitious fears concerning the sinister influence which the electric wire might exert over the fortunes of the capital. However real such fears may be in the minds of the Chinese, and however convenient they may be as a defence against proposals from without, they invariably yield to the pressure of necessity. While the terminus of the telegraph line was at Tungchow, the inconvenience of having to send mounted messengers thirteen miles to despatch and receive messages was for some time felt almost entirely by the foreign Legations; but when the war crisis with France arose, and the Chinese Government itself was sending urgent messages requiring immediate answers to the southern provinces and to Europe, the absurdity of losing more time between the Tsungli-Yamên and the telegraph station than was occupied by the transmission of the message and its reply from Europe became so striking, that the order wasgiven to bring the telegraph into the city. No more was heard of geomantic difficulties.

The most important object, however, which Li Hung-chang sought to gain through the activity of the Seventh Prince, was so to interest his Highness in the scheme of national defence, which had been growing under the viceroy's initiative, that this department of the work of Government should be transformed from a provincial to an imperial concern. With this end in view an expedition on salt water was arranged for the Prince; and insignificant as the feat must appear in Western eyes, yet for a Manchu prince, who had never seen the sea, to be allowed to trust himself on the treacherous element at all, or on such a strange monster as a steamer, must be accepted as a decided proof that the old order was changing, giving place to the new. The prince was undoubtedly nervous, not knowing what should befall him on his expedition.

The first ordeal through which he had to pass was that of personal contact with foreigners, of whom he had perhaps never seen one in Peking. His introduction was carefully organised by Li Hung-chang, and it was at Tientsin that the prince first met with foreign officials, who waited upon him at separate audiences. The foreigners were as much charmed with his Highness as he expressed himself to have been with them, so that he embarked on his cruise free from anxiety. His attendants, however,—on whom and on Li Hung-chang all the responsibility of course rested,—continued to feel anxious during their passage across the Gulf. This feeling became for a moment acute when, on landing at PortArthur, they were met by a British admiral and staff with a guard of honour. It is an actual fact that the sight of strange armed men waiting for the prince, working on oriental traditions, did suggest a trap, for the idea of capture by treachery is never wholly absent from the Chinese mind. The Government had taken the wise precaution of attaching to the prince an experienced and capable foreigner in whom he reposed perfect confidence, and Mr Detring explained foreign customs and forms of courtesy to the prince and his suite in a way which completely reassured them. Among all the dignitaries in the prince's suite, however, there was not one capable of taking in the entirely novel ideas which were presented to them. One man only, of quite subordinate rank—whether a Manchu or a Chinese by birth is unknown to the writer—a confidential agent of the Seventh Prince in business matters, seized the entire programme of foreign etiquette the moment it was explained to him, and through him the whole ceremony passed smoothly and agreeably to all parties. The name of this official was Chang Yi, who has since been taking a leading part in mining, railway, and other progressive enterprises in China.

On his return to Peking Prince Ch'un in a memorial to the Throne reported fully the incidents of his cruise to the gulf ports. Not long after a naval board was established in Peking, with the prince at its head. As a step in the direction of centralising the naval authority, which included also the direction of the land defences, the establishment of a Board of Admiralty in the capital was certainly a progressive one; but as its members possessed neither knowledgenor experience of naval or military affairs its authority was much attenuated, almost every question having to be referred back to Li Hung-chang in Tientsin. Any chance that might have existed of Prince Ch'un himself inspiring the new Board and bringing it up to a state of efficiency was lost through his Highness falling into ill-health, from which he never recovered, but after a lingering illness died in 1890.

The Emperor Kwanghsu comes of age in 1889—Audience of foreign Ministers arranged—Derogatory conditions—Second audience refused by Ministers—Accepted by Austrian and British envoys.

In 1889 his Majesty Kwanghsu attained his majority and married. But his coming of age was a somewhat gradual process, with intervals between each step, as if the empress-regent, who alone determined the time and the seasons, were either mistrustful of the capacity of her nephew or reluctant to lay down the reins of authority. The emperor, kept in leading-strings, was allowed to assume some of the functions of an autocrat, but not all. This slow unfolding of the imperial blossom had this result among others, that it procured a welcome respite from the bitter ordeal of granting an audience to the representatives of foreign States. It was well understood that the foreigners had for sixteen years been looking forward to the emperor's assumption of power as to the consummation of their diplomatic function, and that as soon as a decent interval had beenallowed to the young monarch after his majority, the subject would become pressing.

It had been discussed in whispers for nearly two years, when, to the astonishment of everybody, including even the members of the Tsungli-Yamên themselves, an imperial decree was issued in December 1890 in kindly terms ordering preparations to be made to receive the foreign Ministers after the Chinese New Year—that is, in the February following. Since nobody owned to having been in the secret, the act was set down to the emperor's gracious initiative, and was hailed with enthusiasm as the opening of a new era. The Great Wall had at last fallen; the pretensions to superiority for which the Chinese had made such great sacrifices were suddenly abandoned, and henceforth equality with foreign nations was to be the basis of their diplomatic intercourse.

The hope was shortlived, for as soon as the details of the imperial reception came to be arranged with the Tsungli-Yamên all the old difficulties appeared in an aggravated form. The foreign ministers, having pondered the question for eighteen years, had unanimously resolved that they would not accept an audience in the building used for the reception of tributary princes, where the ceremony of 1873 had taken place, but only in the imperial palace, or not at all. The whole value of the audience was the acknowledgment it signified of international equality. The idea that it would facilitate business must have been long before abandoned. The form, therefore, was everything, and the Chinese Ministers were resolved that the "tributary" form should be adhered to. They became urgentin their appeals to the reasonableness of the foreign Ministers. They had gone to expense in renovating the hall, Tz-kwang-ko; they had no other place available; the imperial decree must be obeyed, and this admitted of no postponement.

Yielding to these arguments, the foreign Ministers agreed to a compromise. They would, for this time only, repair to the Tz-kwang-ko, but never again. The ceremony took place therefore on 5th March 1891. There were two receptions—first an audience to the various foreign Ministers separately, next a general reception of the whole of them. The diplomatic body soon felt the consequences of their retrograde step, for when they came to discuss details of the audience of the following year, the Chinese interposed a simplenon possumusto every demand which implied the acknowledgment of equality. A reception within the palace without thekotowcould not even be discussed. No accommodation between the opposing views being possible, there was no audience in 1892. The diplomatic body were solidly united in maintaining the dignity of their respective countries, and by ceasing to solicit, they left the onus of discovering a solution of the question on the Chinese themselves. The audience was of no practical value to the foreigners, while the withholding of it placed the Chinese so much in the wrong that they might safely have been left to their own devices.

Before, however, the pressure to extricate themselves and their sovereign from an untenable position had become too severe, a diversion in their favour was created by the flying visit of an Austrian envoy, who seemed ready to present his credentials on any termswhatever, so that the formalities were quickly got over, and he enabled to conclude his mission. The Chinese availed themselves of this unexpected opportunity, and the emperor granted an audience to M. Biegeleben in another hall or pavilion outside the palace, which thenceforth became known locally as the Palais Biegeleben.

At the end of 1892, not long after the Biegeleben incident, a new British Minister arrived in Peking. Not apparently considering himself bound by the compact to which his predecessor was a party, he, without the knowledge of his diplomatic colleagues, accepted an audience on the same derogatory terms as the Austrian envoy had done, and the reactionary policy of the Chinese thus enjoyed a complete, if temporary, triumph. This proceeding of the British Minister was deeply resented by the diplomatic body, most of all by the Russian Minister, Count Cassini, himself a new arrival, and the circumstance did not tend to smooth the subsequent intercourse between the parties.

Worthy reception in Peking impossible—Attempted substitution of provincial reception—Czarevitch visits only the Russian communities in China.

Closely connected in point of time, and possibly by a more vital link, with the imperial audience was the voyage of the Czarevitch to India, China, and Japan in 1890-91. There was no precedent in China for the reception of the member of any foreign royal family. In the days before the first audience the Duke ofEdinburgh, while in command of the Galatea, visited Peking, but strictlyincognito, no visits being exchanged with any Chinese. But times had changed considerably in the twenty years that had since elapsed, and with an emperor of full age on the throne things that were winked at during his minority could no longer be so lightly treated. The Chinese Government were, in fact, perfectly conscious of the responsibility which lay upon them to show courtesy to so distinguished a visitor as the heir to the throne of Russia, and they took timely measures for his reception.

The position of the audience question convinced the Ministers that it would be impossible to receive him worthily in Peking, since to do so would be to admit equality with foreign States. The first care of the Chinese, therefore, was to induce his Imperial Highness to stay away from the capital. The Russian Government were told that Li Hung-chang, representing the Chinese Emperor, would meet the Czarevitch at Chefoo, and that his reception by other Governors of provinces would be deemed equivalent to one by the emperor in person. The Russian Government fell into the trap, and the programme of provincial receptions would have been carried out but for the eccentricity of Chang Chih-tung, the governor-general of the Hu provinces on the Yangtze. He, with the other provincials, had received the instructions about the reception of the Czarevitch, but he alone treated the order with contempt, not even deigning to answer it or to explain his reason. The order did not emanate from Peking, and he would not accept a mandate from an equal. Evidently the emperor had no hand in drawing up the programme, and this Chang had the best means of knowing, for he hada brother in the Inner Council. This action of a high authority throws full light on the difference between an imperial and a provincial transaction, as the Chinese themselves regard it.

In keeping with this independent attitude of Chang was the rudeness with which he received the officer deputed by the Russian admiral to arrange details of the reception at Wuchang. In this way the intended imposture was exposed. But if the Russian Government had been too easily led into a false position, it must be admitted they extricated themselves cleverly, by simply demanding a yellow chair for the Czarevitch, a colour reserved exclusively for the emperor. As this could not be conceded the official ceremonies fell through, and the Czarevitch contented himself with visiting the Russian communities at the Chinese ports. He then proceeded to Japan, where a brilliant reception awaited him; and from Japan to Vladivostock, where he turned the first sod of the Trans-Siberian Railway, 19th May 1891.

Rapid advance of French towards China proper—The Black Flags—Discussions between France and China—Attempted negotiations—Conquest of Tongking decided upon—Chinese feared attack on Canton—City defenceless—Negotiation with France recommended—Captain Fournier concludes convention with Li Hung-chang in Tientsin—Strong opposition in the capital—Collision between forces in Tongking—French make war on China—Peace concluded through customs agency, April 1885—The Li-Fournier convention ratified.

The progress of the French in the annexation of Cochin China, Annam, and Tongking was phenomenally rapid. These aggressions on her tributary States were far from agreeable to China, but no effective means of resistance was proposed. The Chinese policy, wrote Sir R. Alcock,[26]"has been one of drift, and letting things slide into irretrievable confusion and disaster for want of courage and decisive action at the right time. Between the Dupuis and Garnier expeditions, in which a handful of men were seizing towns, storming citadels, and terrorising the Annamite mandarins and king into virtual submission to any terms dictated to them, and Captain Rivière's very similar proceedings in 1883, there was abundant time and opportunity for China either to fight or to negotiate with effect, but she did neither."

When, however, the advance of the French brought them within measurable distance of the southern provinces of China proper, a more serious view of the invasion was forced upon the Government. A body of irregular troops, called the Black Flags, for some time stood in the way of the French, who designated them "pirates." The status of these Black Flags was, indeed, somewhat ambiguous, as they had been virtually outlawed by the Chinese. But when it was seen that they were harassing the French, the provincial authorities recognised that they were fighting the battle of China and of her tributary. The Annamese Government had, in the first instance, invited the assistance of the Black Flags, and the Chinese Government officially encouraged them, while hoping to evade direct responsibility for doing so. The French had made the useless mistake of wounding China in a tender spot by destroying the seal granted to the Annamese sovereign by the emperor, and it was probably this insult rather than the territorial seizures which induced China to reinforce the Black Flags by a body of imperial troops, and to lay down distinctly the line which she would consider herself bound to defend.

The annexation of Annam became the subject of protracted discussions between France and China. The diplomacy of the Marquis Tsêng in Paris, and of Li Hung-chang in China—a convention had actually been concluded between the latter and the French Minister, Bourrée—failed to arrest the progress of France, and the question between the two countries reached a burning point after the capture by the French of Sontay and Bacninh in the spring of 1884.

The Chinese envoy had declared to M. Ferry that aFrench advance on these places would be regarded by his Government as acasus belli. Seeing, however, that no action was taken by China after their actual capture, the French took fresh courage, and their programme of conquest became so much expanded that what had been the dream of a few became the definitive policy of the Republic. "The conquest of Tongking had been decided upon in principle," wrote Admiral Jaurèguiberry to Captain Rivière at the time when M. de Freycinet was declaring that there should be no policy of aggression. The taking of the two citadels sealed the policy of the admiral and falsified that of the Foreign Minister. From that point may be dated the important position which France has since assumed in claiming to direct, in conjunction with Russia, the destinies of the Chinese Empire.

On the fall of the two cities the Chinese officials of the southern provinces were filled with consternation. They feared that the successes of the French would encourage them, if not to invade China, at least to force a settlement with her on their own terms. They had before them the brochure of Captain Rivière, commander of the French forces in Tongking, in which he advocated a quarrel with China as a preliminary to the seizure of the three southern provinces, Kwangtung, Kwangsi, and Yunnan. An obvious step towards the execution of such a design would be an attack on the provincial capital, Canton, an event which was not only anticipated by the authorities, but was thought feasible, and even probable, by disinterested onlookers. How little prepared were the Chinese to resist such an attack will be best understood by the measures they took to avert it.

An officer of the Chinese customs service, Mr G. Detring, returning from furlough, brought with him the details of the Marquis Tsêng's abortive negotiations in Paris. He arrived in China immediately after the capture of the two strongholds of Sontay and Bacninh. In proceeding from Hongkong to take up his official post at Canton he accepted a passage in the FrenchavisoVolta, which conveyed Rear-Admiral Lespès to the latter city. She was commanded by Commandant Fournier, with whom Mr Detring had been some years before on terms of intimacy in the north of China. The principal topic discussed on the passage was naturally Tongking, and, judging from subsequent developments, it is reasonable to suppose that the seeds of the settlement eventually concluded between China and France were sown during that short but interesting voyage. When Mr Detring reported himself to the provincial authorities they evinced the greatest anxiety as to what they conceived to be the threatening attitude of the French against Canton. Asked if their river defences were in a position to resist attack, they frankly avowed that they were not; but yet, being personally responsible for the defence, they dared not confess the true state of affairs to the Imperial Government. The viceroy of Canton and the governor of Yunnan were already under censure, and the military commanders in Tongking were even threatened with decapitation "pour encourager les autres." The Canton authorities were thus, in fact, in the dilemma in which Chinese provincial officials have so frequently found themselves in dealing with foreign exigencies—responsible yet helpless. Since they were avowedly incapable ofresistance, the viceroy and governor were advised at once to open negotiations with the French, and, as a first step, to report the actual position frankly to the Central Government,—in other words, to Li Hung-chang, who in this, as in all other crises, had to bear the burden of every initiative. Having had experience of the capacity of Mr Detring, first in the negotiating of the Chefoo convention, and subsequently during several years of official intercourse at Tientsin, Li Hung-chang moved the Central Government to summon the Canton commissioner of customs to Tientsin for consultation.

The way being thus partially opened to negotiation, Rear-Admiral Lespès held himself in readiness to proceed to Tientsin in response to any invitation that might be conveyed to him. Captain Fournier was sent on in advance to the rendezvous at Chefoo, where he was to remain until the real views of the Chinese Government respecting a settlement of the Tongking dispute had been ascertained. The French having set their hearts on extorting a large indemnity, it was emphatically declared to them that China would never pay one farthing. Any negotiation, therefore, would be futile unless this question was first eliminated. Having paved the way with Li Hung-chang, Mr Detring next proceeded to Chefoo to invite Captain Fournier to Tientsin. From previous good relations he waspersona gratawith Li, and on that account was thought a not unfit agent with whom to discuss preliminaries in anticipation of the arrival of his admiral. But that there should be no mistake about the indemnity, Captain Fournier was once more told that unless it were dropped it would be useless his proceeding toTientsin. His doing so, therefore, was a tacit withdrawal of that important item in the French demands. Both parties being equally desirous of a settlement, all official technical difficulties were promptly overcome, and Captain Fournier, from a mere herald of the French admiral, was by telegraphic instructions from Paris at once promoted to the rank of plenipotentiary for France, and this notwithstanding that there was an accredited representative of the Republic eighty miles off in Peking. The two negotiators, in short, fell into each other's arms, and the convention of May 11, 1884, was the result.

The peace so suddenly and irregularly patched up was not, however, destined to endure. Li Hung-chang, knowing better than any of his peers the risks of a war with France, had stretched his authority to the uttermost in concluding a treaty which practically ceded Annam and Tongking to that Power. For though in this as in all his other acts he carried with him the approval of the empress-dowager, he knew that he had to brave the ferocious opposition of the ignorant fanatics of the capital, which he himself described as the "howling of dogs." The moment the announcement was made, indeed, the furies were let loose upon him, and he had practically no support but that of the empress-dowager; for the Tsungli-Yamên, so far as they were not opposed to the treaty, were invertebrate. It is necessary to bear in mind this critical position of Li Hung-chang in order to understand the series of blunders, misunderstandings, recriminations, and actual war which ensued.

After the ratification of the treaty, arrangements had to be made for the withdrawal of the Chinese forcesfrom the territory which had been ceded to France. Captain Fournier, in an interview with Li Hung-chang, presented a memorandum fixing the dates on which the troops were to evacuate the several positions specified. A long discussion appears to have taken place, in which it is not difficult, from the circumstances above referred to, to divine what the viceroy's attitude must have been. He wished to avoid the invidious responsibility of asking the Central Government to order the withdrawal of the troops from Langson, as to do so would obviously add fuel to the fire of those powerful functionaries who were clamouring for the repudiation of the treaty, and for the negotiator's head. In vain endeavouring to obtain from Fournier an indefinite delay in carrying out the stipulation for the retirement of the Chinese troops, Li perhaps trusted that the French commanders in Tongking would themselves cut the knot by marching forward with an adequate force and brushing away the Chinese troops opposing them. The accomplished fact would then have settled everything.

It has been said that the clever interpreter, instead of translating all the viceroy's arguments and explaining his difficulties, summed the whole up to Captain Fournier in two words, "Avancez donc"—advice which would no doubt have been sufficient if only the French military commander, Colonel Dugenne, had marched with a reasonable force, or even if he had carried with him a competent interpreter, through whom he might have communicated with the Chinese commander. The latter officer, however, when called upon to evacuate the post, pleaded that he had received no instructions to that effect, and asked for time to communicatewith Peking. The letter to the French commander containing these reasonable pleas for delay was either wrongly translated or left untranslated for months. In the meantime Colonel Dugenne advanced with a small party, and was forced to retreat with loss, for which he was not unjustly recalled by his own authorities; and thereupon ensued the Franco-Chinese war.

This was not, however, the onlycontretempsin connection with this lamentable outbreak. The Chinese commander had actually telegraphed to Li Hung-chang for instructions; but, still unwilling to face the responsibility, the latter left the reply to his council, among whom there happened to be for the moment his evil genius, Chang Pei-lun, a fire-eating member of the Tsungli-Yamên, who was on his way to take up the post of governor of Fukien province and Imperial Commissioner of the Foochow arsenal.

Laudable efforts were made to repair the mischief, and in the conferences which followed in Paris peace was more than once all but assured; but owing to a series of accidents and misunderstandings, in which the authorities at Peking, the French representative there, the French commanders on the Chinese coast, and the telegraph were all implicated, the die was cast in August 1884, and the war was continued till the following April.

For reasons of their own the French Government were averse to calling the hostilities "war," preferring reprisals and "intelligent destruction." By whatever name it may be called, the French did not distinguish themselves greatly in the conduct of the operations. Their only feat of arms was the destruction,at their anchorage in the river Min, of the Chinese ships belonging to the Foochow squadron, and of the arsenal, which, as Li Hung-chang bitterly reflected, had been erected by "French genius." Admiral Courbet found his destructive work easy, having entered the river and taken up a position in the rear of the batteries during time of peace. The subsequent operations in Formosa were without result; and the French Government refused permission to Admiral Courbet to attack Port Arthur, on the non-military ground of wishing to save the prestige of"notre ami Li Hung-chang."So far as the naval operations were concerned, even when most successful in intelligent destruction, they were quite ineffective towards ending the war until the method which has never failed to bring the Chinese Government to terms was resorted to—the stoppage of the grain-supply to the capital. This was accomplished by a patrol of the coast for the purpose of intercepting vessels carrying rice to Tientsin. The work performed during the winter and spring of 1885 by the French cruisers, in keeping the sea without any base and performing their patrol duties in all weathers, excited the admiration of seamen. It should be mentioned that they were precluded from acting offensively against the Yangtze by tacit understanding with Great Britain and other Powers.

If the breach of the peace between France and China was a historical curiosity, the eventual settlement of the dispute resembled a dramatic extravaganza. The final incident of the war in Tongking was the defeat of the French, followed by a panic, caused apparently by General Négrier being wounded.The force then made a disorderly retreat before imaginary pursuers. In the meantime the empress-dowager had given positive orders that peace should be made on any terms. Both parties had thus come round to thestatus quo ante bellum—that is to say, they were both equally urgent to obtain peace, as they had been in May 1884. The agent in bringing this about was Sir Robert Hart; and it was effected, as great things usually are, by the adroit use of very simple means. During the blockade of Formosa a small Chinese lighthouse tender was captured by the French admiral and detained. As she was essentially non-combatant, and was serving the interests of humanity in supplying the numerous lighthouses on the coast of China for the benefit of the commerce of all nations, Sir Robert Hart instructed his very capable London agent, Mr Duncan Campbell, to go to Paris and represent the case to the French Ministers, with a view to obtaining the release of so useful and harmless a vessel. In this manner the door was opened to the larger negotiation. Mr Campbell executed his delicate mission with so much tact, that in the amicable conversations which ensued between him and certain French officials the idea of putting an end to a war of which both parties were tired, and which, moreover, seemed objectless, was ventilated; and in a few days authority was telegraphed from Peking to Mr Campbell to sign a protocol.

This was done before the news of the French reverse at Langson reached Paris. After such a military success M. Jules Ferry could not imagine that the Chinese Government would adhere to theterms of the protocol, and therefore he kept the whole negotiation secret from the Chambers. In the meanwhile the mishap to the French troops, being greatly exaggerated, excited such intense feeling in France that M. Ferry,le Tonkinois, was obliged to resign, with the treaty which might have saved him in his pocket. As for the empress-dowager, she recked nothing of the success of her brave troops on the outskirts of the empire, but thought only of the enormous expense of the war, which had been unpleasantly brought home to her, and of matters affecting her own convenience. She therefore had no thought of going back on the treaty, but was even more urgent than before to have it promptly signed and ratified. The honours of the peace thus fell in a few days to M. Ferry's successor.

And what was the outcome of a year's fighting which cost China 100,000,000 taels and France some proportionate amount? A simple reaffirmation of the Li-Fournier convention of May 1884! The convention itself was short and simple—one clause only exciting much interest during the negotiations, and that provoked a hot discussion, not on the substance, but on the verbal form. It was a stipulation by which the two contracting parties consciously meant different things, and each fought hard for a phrase sufficiently subtle to allow each to interpret it in his own way when the time came for the fulfilment of the treaty provisions. The French were most desirous of binding the Chinese to employ French industries in all their new undertakings. China was equally resolute in avoiding any such obligation. In the end each was satisfied that he could read the treaty clause in hisown favour. But the final victory in the struggle would go to the side that was most persistent in forcing its meaning into practice. The French Ministry had announced to the Chambers a great victory for French manufacturing industries, which were represented as having by it obtained a monopoly in China. The text of the treaty, even in the French version, did not, indeed, bear this out; but the French had theprimâ facieargument on their side, that the introduction of a clause in a treaty referring to the Chinese patronage of French industries, however worded, must have meant something more than merely to register the common fact that China was at liberty to deal with whom she pleased. In the end a compromise was effected by China's giving to a French syndicate the contract for excavating the basin and dock at Port Arthur and certain orders for material, among which was a famous military balloon, wonderfully symbolic of the whole proceeding.

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