“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]
v
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
vian 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
viiattention 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
viiidegree 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
ixspecial 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
xprovincial 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
xiflight 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!
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,
xviindustrious, 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
xviiin 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
xviiiof 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.
xixThe 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,
xxwhose 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
xxisurprise 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
xxiiEmpress—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.
xxiiiThe 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,
xxivand 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
xxvEuropean 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
xxvi1894–95; 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.
xxviiPassing 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 — CHAPTER II THE LAND OF SIBERIA AND ITS INHABITANTS — CHAPTER III AGRICULTURAL SIBERIA AND THE RURAL POPULATION — CHAPTER IV MINERAL RESOURCES AND INDUSTRIES — CHAPTER V SIBERIAN COMMERCE AND THE TRANSPORT OF TEA — CHAPTER VI SIBERIAN TOWNS — CHAPTER VII IMMIGRATION — CHAPTER VIII MEANS OF COMMUNICATION IN SIBERIA — CHAPTER IX THE TRANS-SIBERIAN RAILWAY — CHAPTER X THE RAILWAY THROUGH MANCHURIA — CHAPTER XI THE ALTERED RELATIONS BETWEEN EUROPE AND THE FAR EAST RESULTING FROM THE TRANS-SIBERIAN RAILWAY
1
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
2himself 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,
3or 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
4the 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
5situated 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
6the 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
7forest. 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
8before 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.
9
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
10in 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
11of 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
12on 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
13by 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:
Square Miles.
Total Population.
Natives and other Asiatics.
Area of Agricultural 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
14by 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
15simply 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
16seventeenth 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.
17
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
18belongs 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
19windows 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
20rather 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
21these 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
22who 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
23into 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
24peopled, 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
25man 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
26them 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.
27
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
28it 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
29immense 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
30constitute 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.
31
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
32over 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
33converted 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
34daily. 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
35impossible 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
36the 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
37roubles 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.
38
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
39towns 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
40one 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
41rarer 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
42lost 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.
43
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,
44however, 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
45the 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
46obtain 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
47the 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,
48has 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.
49In 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
50that 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.
51As 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
52government, 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
53of 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
54people, 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
55transportation 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.
56
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,
57that 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
58is 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
59to 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
60Kiakhta 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
61soon 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
62Asia, 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
63ships 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.
64
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
65East, 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
66that 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
67have 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
68desolate 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,
69crossing 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
70passengers 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.
71
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
72Minister 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
73310 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
74the 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,
75have 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.
76
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
77primitively 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
78Voltaire 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
79good 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
80highly 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 — CHAPTER II JAPAN AND THE REVOLUTION OF 1868 — CHAPTER III MODERN JAPAN — CHAPTER IV JAPANESE INDUSTRY — CHAPTER V RURAL JAPAN — CHAPTER VI DEVELOPMENT OF JAPANESE COMMERCE — CHAPTER VII THE FINANCES OF JAPAN — CHAPTER VIII THE DOMESTIC POLITICS AND PARLIAMENT OF JAPAN — CHAPTER IX JAPAN’S FOREIGN POLICY AND HER MILITARY POWER — CHAPTER X THE FUTURE OF WESTERN CIVILIZATION IN JAPAN—RELATIONS BETWEEN JAPANESE AND FOREIGNERS
81
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
82any 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.
83But 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
84a 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
85south-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
86bark, 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,
87writing 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
88hereditary 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
89descendants 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
90theory 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
91have 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
92character. 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
93when 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
94receive 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
95of 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
96trading 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.
97
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
98the 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
99his 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.
100A 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,
101were 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
102people 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,
103also, 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
104Government 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
105was 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
106its 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
107continue 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
108maintaining 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.
109At 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.
110
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.
111On 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
112with 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
113otherwise, 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
114garden. 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
115cushions, 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
116tumbles, 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
117other 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.
118
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.
119Industries 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
120of 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
121jute 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.
122The 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 Raw Cotton into Japan.
Spun Cotton.
Exportation from Japan.
Importation into 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 Looms.
Workmen.
Workwomen.
Production of Spun Cotton.
Tons.
31 Dec., 1890
30
227,895
4,089
10,330
18,798
31 Dec., 1895
47
580,945
9,650
31,140
68,106
31 Dec., 1897
61
839,387
13,447
43,367
97,435
31 Oct., 1898
61
1,233,661
13,447
43,367
97,829
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
123and 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
124the 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.
125
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
126all 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
127Shikoku 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
128extensive 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
129island 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
130added. 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
131rice, 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
132it 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
133the 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.
134The 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.
135
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.
136Japanese 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.
137
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
138might 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
139with 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 Japan.
Importation into Japan.
Total.
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
140take 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
141trade 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
142was 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.
143
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,
144although £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
145was 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
146Treasury 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:
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,
147her 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,
148there 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:
149
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
150tariff, 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
151provincial 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,
152£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
153thing 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.
154
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
155replaced, 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
156entertainment, 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
157its 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,
158dominated 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
159order 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
160of 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.
161If 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
162Ministers, 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
163the 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.
164
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
165Parliament 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
166940 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
167behind. 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
168preventing 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
169elsewhere, 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
170never 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.
171
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
172least 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
173elements, 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
174economical 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.
175From 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
176or 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
177of 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,
178be 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
179so 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.
180The 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
181foreigners 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
182majority 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 — CHAPTER II THE CAPITAL OF CHINA — CHAPTER III THE COUNTRY IN THE NEIGHBOURHOOD OF PEKING—NUMEROUS SIGNS OF THE DECLINE OF THE EMPIRE — CHAPTER IV THE LITERARY AND MANDARIN CLASS—PRINCIPAL CAUSES OF THE DECADENCE OF THE EMPIRE — CHAPTER V THE CHINESE PEOPLE AND THEIR CHARACTERISTICS — CHAPTER VI FOREIGNERS IN CHINA—THE ATTITUDE OF THE CHINESE TOWARDS WESTERN CIVILIZATION — CHAPTER VII THE POSITION AND WORK OF FOREIGNERS IN CHINA — CHAPTER VIII CHINA AND THE POWERS — CHAPTER IX RUSSIA, FRANCE, AND ENGLAND IN THE FAR EAST IN 1895–97 — CHAPTER X CHINA AND THE POWERS, 1897–99—‘SPHERES OF INFLUENCE,’ AND THE ‘OPEN DOOR’ — CHAPTER XI THE FUTURE OF CHINA—MAINTENANCE OR PARTITION OF THE CELESTIAL EMPIRE?
183
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
184even 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
185proved 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.
186In 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
187matter 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.
188
The coasts of Pe-chi-li and the mouth of the Pei-ho—Ta-ku and Tien-tsin—From
Tien-tsin to Peking by rail—Peking: the Forbidden, Imperial,
Tatar and Chinese cities; the walls, streets, houses, shops and monuments—Behaviour
of the natives towards foreigners—Decadence of
the capital and of the whole Empire.
If one enters China from Eastern Siberia by the Gulf of
Pe-chi-li after a long voyage round the Korean Peninsula,
the first impression of the Celestial Empire is distinctly unattractive.
The contrast between the shallow waters where
the vessel casts anchor, some miles distant from the mouth
of the Pei-ho, and the noble port of Vladivostok, or the
enchanting Bay of Nagasaki, with its verdant shores and
blue waters, enlivened by the picturesque sails of the fishing-junks,
is, to say the least, extremely depressing.
Nearly all the ports of the Celestial Empire are thus formed,
and can only be entered during a few hours of the day. Even
the mouth of the great Blue River is encumbered with shoals,
and its famous rival, the Yellow River, in its lower basin,
is divided up into such a multitude of channels that meander
through the marshy lands as to interrupt all direct navigation
from the sea. The Gulf of Pe-chi-li, which may be described
as the port of Peking, although situated closer to the Equator
than the Bay of Naples, or the mouth of the Tagus, seems,
with its choked-up estuaries, its storm-beaten shores, its fogs
and icy coat in winter, thoroughly typical of China and her
traditional inhospitality, and her eagerness rather to repulse
than to invite the stranger within her gates. From the
anchorage outside the bar it is difficult to discern the lowlying
coast; and the first objects to attract attention are mud
forts, mud houses in mud villages, and mud heaps marking the
189graves in the cemeteries. This uninviting place is Ta-ku,
beyond which, a little higher up, at Tang-ku, the Pei-ho
ceases to be navigable for vessels of any tonnage. On landing,
a surprise awaits you—the railway. Commenced by Li Hung-chang,
for the purpose of transporting the coal from his
mines at Kaiping, a few miles to the north-east, branches
have been added, and since the summer of 1897 it takes
the traveller to Peking viâ Tien-tsin. An hour and a half
after leaving Tang-ku, I alighted at the former town amid a
mob of noisy coolies, who pounced upon me and my luggage.
We crossed the Pei-ho in a sampang instead of the ordinary
ferry-boat which conveys the Celestials, packed together like
sardines in a box, and stuck, apparently immovably, in the
most extraordinary postures. From the landing-place, we were
trotted in a jinrikisha drawn by a Chinaman through the Rue
de France, up Victoria Road to the Astor House, an American
hotel kept by a German; opposite it is a garden, over which
a white flag with a crimson circle in its centre, the emblem
of the Rising Sun, announces that the garden and the house
belong to the Japanese Consul. Thus was I first initiated to
the cosmopolitanism of a foreign concession in the Far East.
Tien-tsin is the biggest open port in North China and the
third in rank in point of activity and commerce in the whole
Celestial Empire. It is, moreover, an immense Chinese city
of nearly a million inhabitants, but its European concession is
very inferior to that of Shanghai, and as a native city it is
of little interest in comparison with Peking, Canton and many
other towns. It is from here that travellers used, in former
times, to begin the disagreeable journey to the capital, either
on horseback or by junk up the Pei-ho. The river route
was usually performed partly by sail and partly by oar, but
occasionally the boat had to be towed by men. The junks
took two or three days to ascend the sinuous course of the
river. Sometimes, however, when the wind was to the north,
and the shoals numerous, the journey occupied from four to
five days before Peking was reached. Now the daily express,
which speeds along at the rate of twenty miles an hour, takes
three hours and fifty-three minutes to cover the ground which
separates Tien-tsin from the station at Peking.
The country through which it passes is very flat, and it is
only just before arriving at its terminus that the blue outline
of some rather high hills come into sight towards the north-east.
190In the month of September, when the rains are over
and are replaced by a drought that lasts until the end of
winter, the environs of Tien-tsin, including the cemetery, are
entirely under water, and as we looked from the train window,
we could see a coffin floating about, and another like gruesome
object stuck on the embankment of the line, which led us to
reflect that, though the Chinese make such a fuss over their
ancestors, they apparently care very little for their graves. The
inundation at first stretched as far as the eye could see.
Presently the land began to peep out. If you expect to find
the soil from which the waters have just retired uncultivated,
it will only be an evident proof that you know very little
about the indefatigable industry of the Chinese agriculturist,
and the great care and skill which he brings to his task. All
that emerges has already been carefully sown, even down to
the very brink of the water, and at a few steps from the
limits of the inundation, the future harvest which has sprang
up under the hot September sun from the moist but rich
soil begins to make its appearance. The mud villages now
succeed each other rapidly, and presently the traveller reaches
an admirably cultivated country where not an inch of soil is
wasted, and where the wheat and sorghum fields are alternated
by kitchen gardens and orchards.
The temporary station at Peking, built of planks and
galvanized iron, stands in the midst of this landscape. Very
little is to be seen of the high walls of the city, which are
almost entirely hidden by trees, and by a slight rising in the
land. Nothing indicates that the gates of the capital of the
oldest Empire in the world are so near. In order to traverse
the mile which separates the station from the entrance to
Peking, it is necessary to exchange the most highly perfected
of human conveyance for the most barbaric. The Chinese
are unwilling that the stranger should dispense, in order to
enter their most holy capital, with a thorough jolting in their
national carriage, unto which the Siberian tarantass may be
compared as the most luxurious of vehicles. Two enormous
wheels, covered with iron and garnished with a triple row
of nails, support this shapeless waggon, which is protected by
a blue awning, and is dragged along by two mules harnessed
one in front of the other. Whilst the driver sits in front
under the awning, the hapless traveller has to accommodate
himself on the floor, with his legs stretched out in front of him.
191Now begins the torture, for one is literally jolted about against
the wooden sides of the cart like a pill in a box. Presently the
wheel goes over a huge stone, only to fall into a deep hole, or
stick in a rut. Meanwhile, the diabolical waggon behaves in a
most abominable manner, to the unutterable agony of its
wretched inmate, who lives in terror of being either precipitated
into the mud, or of having his brains knocked out by the
collapse of the whole structure. Of this latter catastrophe
there is little or no likelihood, for about the only good quality
this appalling conveyance can boast of is solidity: nothing
could break it. About twenty minutes after leaving the station
a high battlemented wall, surrounded by a mud-filled moat, is
reached. Next, you pass over a bridge, beyond which a gate
admits into a sort of half-moon surrounded by walls, beyond
which is yet another gate admitting to the city proper, where,
after another hour’s jolting, the unhappy traveller alights at a
hotel in Legation Street kept by a Frenchman.
Although not the most ancient city in the Celestial Empire,
Peking is an epitome of the rest of China, together with its
ancient civilization and its present stagnation and decadence.
It belongs to a very different type from the cities of Europe, or
even of the Moslem world, and the sight of its immense wall
and successive enclosures, which divide it into four distinct
parts, reminds one of Nineveh or Babylon. In the centre is
the ‘Forbidden’ or ‘Purple City,’ about a league in length
from north to south, and a quarter of a league in width, containing
the palaces of the Emperor and Empress Dowager,
and the gardens and the residences of a swarm of parasites
numbering, it is said, between six or eight thousand persons,
inclusive of guards, concubines, eunuchs, functionaries, gardeners
and other attendants upon the Imperial harem. The
only Europeans who are allowed to cross the sacred threshold
of the Purple City are the members of the Diplomatic Corps,
to whom the Emperor gives audience on New Year’s Day,
as well as since quite recently on the occasions of their arrival
or taking leave. Around the Purple City extends the Imperial
City, its walls painted pink, which in its turn is surrounded
by the Tatar City, a rectangle of 4 miles in length, by 3
miles in width, whose sides face the cardinal points. Its
colossal walls are 50 feet high, and at their summit are
50 feet wide. Their external fronts consist of two strong
brick walls, rising from a substructure of stone. The interior
192is filled up with earth, and the summit, covered with flagstones,
forms a walk bordered by embattled stone parapets. Bastions
project outwards, and huge pavilions built of brick, pierced
with many balistraria, and coated with highly varnished
coloured tiles, ornament its four corners and gates. It rises
only 99 feet above the ground, beyond which height it is
never allowed to build, lest the flight of the good spirits might
be inconvenienced thereby. This magnificent rampart, which
to the north-east and to the west rises abruptly from the midst
of the country, Peking having no suburbs, presents a most imposing
aspect; and it is not less impressive when beheld from
any one of the half-moons, which are very vast, and are built
before the various gates, but which, owing to the height of the
embattled walls which surround them on all sides, each of
which is surmounted by a massive brick pavilion, look like
wells.
To the south of the Tatar City is a group of less imposing
walls surrounding the lengthy rectangle which includes the
Chinese City, the commercial part of Peking. The broad
street that intersects it from north to south, and cuts it into
two equal parts, especially close to the Tsieng-Men Gate, by
which you pass into the Tatar City, is the most animated
artery of the city. In the central walk, paved with magnificent
flagstones, not one of which is now in its right place, and
which apparently only serve as stumbling-blocks to pedestrians,
and are covered with mud a foot deep in summer, and by a
pestilential dust in winter, circulate in the utmost confusion
the ever-present waggons, already described, palanquins, sedan-chairs,
whose colours vary with the dignity of the owner, chairs
drawn by mules, men riding on small Manchurian ponies,
indefatigable asses, which are the best means of locomotion in
the place, enormous one wheeled barrows, coolies struggling
under the burden of huge baskets filled with fruit, vegetables,
and other comestibles, fixed to the end of a very long pole
slung across their shoulders—all this busy world bustles along,
filling the air with shouts and cries of every kind, from the
croaking of the porters to the stentorian shouts of the waggoners.
Occasionally a long string of huge two-humped camels, a cord
running from the nostrils of one animal to the tail of the other,
and led by a Mongolian urchin, adds to the incredible confusion.
All this crowd, together with beasts and vehicles, has
to content itself with what, under ordinary circumstances, would
193be a very broad roadway, if at least a third of it were not encumbered
by a sort of permanent open-air fair, carried on in
rows of booths, some of which are used as restaurants, others
as shops of every description. These booths turn their backs
to the middle of the street, and thus hide the line of shops
beyond, of which, from the centre of the road, you can only
perceive the enormous and innumerable signboards hanging
from a veritable forest of gaily-painted poles.
Beyond the Tsieng-Men Gate is situated the Beggars’ Bridge,
always thronged by groups of wretches clamouring for alms
and ostentatiously displaying the most appalling mutilations,
with all kinds of loathsome diseases added to their sordid
misery to excite compassion. The narrow side-walks, which
are bordered on the one hand by booths, and on the other by
big shops, are filled by a motley gathering of small shopkeepers,
each plying his business in the open-air barbers,
hairdressers, and fortune-tellers, among whom the crowd has
no little difficulty in threading its way. Here you see men in
light-blue blouses, with long pigtails; Chinese ladies with their
hair dragged back magpie-tail fashion, who balance themselves
painfully as they go along on their tiny deformed feet; Tatar
women, whose hair is puffed out on each side of their faces, and
who, like their Chinese sisters, stick a big flower behind their
ears. Not being crippled by bound feet, like their less fortunate
Chinese sisters, these women strut along with as firm a step as
their high-heeled clogs will permit. Their faces are bedaubed
with rice-flour, and their cheeks painted an alarmingly bright
red. Children with their heads shaved in the most comical
manner, dotted about with little tufts, that have a very funny
appearance, being cut according to the taste or caprice of
their parents, also run about. Among the well-clad children of
a better class are others, stark-naked, looking for all the world
like small animated bronzes, so dark and warm-coloured is
their polished skin. In order to avoid being mobbed, one
has occasionally to seek refuge in a shop, which usually opens
on to the street, and is without windows. In the back the
shopkeepers are peacefully seated behind their counters smoking
long pipes, whilst exhibiting their goods and listening to the
bargainings of their customers. These shops are always very
clean, and the goods are arranged with great order and even
considerable taste. A bowl with goldfish, or a cage full of
birds, adds not a little to the charm and peacefulness of the
194scene, which is peculiarly refreshing after the noise and dirt of
the streets.
All the great arteries of Peking are equally filthy and closely
resemble each other, excepting that not one of them can equal,
either in the size of the shops or wealth of their contents,
the famous High Street that leads to the Tsieng-Men Gate.
In summer, after the rains, a coating of mud some two feet
and a half deep covers both road and footpath, which when
the weather dries again is converted into thick clouds of
dust. The sideways, always lower than the central road, are
usually filled by pools of green water, whence arises the most
horrible stench of decayed vegetables and rotting carcases of
animals, in addition to the accumulated offal of the neighbouring
houses. The wonder of it all is that the entire population
of Peking has not long since been swept away by some
appalling epidemic.
Leaving aside the few broad streets, one frequently comes
across immense open spaces, whose centres are generally
occupied by a huge dunghill. The narrow little streets that
branch out in all directions can be divided into two classes—those
which border on the three or four principal commercial
thoroughfares, which, like them, are lined with shops, but are
scarcely broad enough to allow of the passage of a single cart,
although they are thronged from morning to night by a seething,
noisy crowd; and the silent and deadly dull private streets,
where the dwelling-houses are to be found. On either side
runs a gray wall, whose monotony is broken at intervals by
a series of shabby little doors. If any one of these happens
to be open, one can only perceive from the street a small
courtyard a few feet square, and another dead wall, beyond
which is the inner courtyard, shut off from all observation,
and on which open all the windows of these singular dwellings,
not one of which is more than one story high, and always
protected by a gray double-tiled roof, usually ornamented at
the four corners by some grotesque stone beast or other, but
never turned up at the ends as are invariably those of the
temples and the monuments. There is no movement whatever
in these streets. A few children play before the doors, a dog
or so strays about in the road, and now and again a coolie or
an itinerant merchant, with two baskets suspended from a pole
across his shoulders, breaks the silence by a shrill cry; sometimes
a donkey or a cart passes along but fails to enliven the
195deadly quiet of the street, which is so still and monotonous
that one might almost imagine one’s self in a village instead of
in one of the most populous cities in the world.
The scene changes entirely when Peking is seen from the
heights of the walls which form the only agreeable promenade
in the capital, to whose summits ascends neither the mud nor
the stench of this dirtiest of cities. The eye wanders pleasantly
over a forest of fine trees, for every house has one or two in
its courtyard, and barely a glimpse of the offensive streets is
to be had: only the gray roofs of the little houses; and thus
Peking looks for all the world like an immense park, from
whose midst rise the yellow roofs of the Imperial Palace, and
to the northern extremity of the city, a wooded height called
the Coal Mountain, surmounted by a pagoda.
As to monuments, there are very few in Peking worth the
seeing, and into these foreigners are never allowed to enter.
Twenty-five or thirty years ago visitors were admitted into a
great number of the temples: that of Heaven, which is now
being restored, and where the Emperor goes annually to make
a sacrifice, and the Temples of the Sun, the Moon, and of
Agriculture, and they were even allowed to peep into the
Imperial Gardens; but since the entry of the Anglo-French
troops into Peking, in 1860, the Chinese have been very
reticent with respect to their monuments, doubtless a consequence
of the salutary lesson they then received, which they
are philosophical enough to endeavour to forget, as all wise
folk should do things that wound their pride. To-day the
people affect to believe the official story invented on that
occasion to save appearances, wherein it was stated that the
Emperor Hien-feng, instead of fleeing before the allies,
merely went on a hunting excursion in his park at Johol in
Mongolia. Their usual insolence towards foreigners had completely
returned, to be modified, however, so soon as they heard
of the successes of the Japanese, and they were seized with
absolute terror at the prospect of beholding the Mikado’s
army marching through their gates.
When I was in Peking in the autumn of 1897 Europeans
were very rarely insulted in the streets. Before the War it was
otherwise, and I myself, like many another, did not escape the
impertinence of the Chinese at Canton. All the same, they took
good care to close their monuments to the inspection of the
‘foreign devils,’ and the only temple now open for our inspection
196is that of Confucius, an immense but rather commonplace
hall with a steep roof supported on pillars painted a vivid
red. Foreigners are also permitted to visit the place where
the literati undergo their examinations. It consists of some
thousands of little cells lining several long, open corridors,
wherein the unfortunate candidates for law and medicine are
shut for several days while they answer the questions set them.
Then there is the old Observatory, wherein are two series of
highly useful instruments. The first dates from the time of
the Mongol Dynasty in the thirteenth century, and lies scattered
half buried among the weeds at the bottom of the courtyard;
the second series is less antiquated, having been made under
the direction of the Jesuit Verbiest, who was astronomer to the
Emperor of China in the early part of the seventeenth century.
They are shown on the walls. After seeing these thoroughly
up-to-date astronomical instruments, one has visited all there
is to be seen in the Imperial city of Peking.
It must be confessed, however, that walking in the streets, or
at the foot or on top of the enormous walls, is far more interesting
and instructive than visiting temples and palaces. At
every step the observer is struck with the activity and energy of
the Chinese people in contradistinction to the systematic stagnation
of its governing classes, and he soon comes to the conclusion
that China is in a state of decadence strongly resembling
in many details that of the Roman Empire at the time of the
invasions of the Barbarians. This erstwhile magnificent capital
is now only the shadow of its former self. The number of its
inhabitants, 700,000 to 800,000, is gradually decreasing, and
many houses are already in ruins. Some of the best streets,
which must at one time have been splendidly paved, are now
almost impassable, the result of neglect; drains, which at one
time were covered in, now run open through the streets, and
are choked up by nameless deposits which are never removed,
and even immense blocks of the celebrated walls are occasionally
allowed to crumble to ruin. Now and again an effort to
repair them is started, but as half the money intended for the
work usually remains in the hands of the officials and contractors
it is never well done, great care being taken not to
do the repairs thoroughly, for fear of preventing fresh disaster
and losing a chance to do it all over again. On the other hand,
on the rare occasions when the Emperor betakes himself and
his court to some summer residence or other, or to make a
197sacrifice at one of the temples, things are furbished up a bit,
to make him believe that his capital is well looked after. The
ruts and the mud-heaps in the streets through which the procession
passes are hidden under a thick coating of sand, and
everything likely to offend the eye of the Son of Heaven is
covered over; even the miserable booths which encumber the
streets are removed, and the half-moons in the rampart have
their walls painted white, but only so high as the Imperial
eyes may be lifted as His Celestial Majesty passes by, lolling
back indolently in his magnificent palanquin.
198
From Peking to the Ming Tombs and the Great Wall of China—The
temples in the hills—Striking neglect of monuments and public works—Remains
of ancient and well-paved highroads, now replaced by
wretched ones, which are only temporarily repaired when the Emperor
or the Empress Dowager passes—The manner in which useful works
are neglected in China, and her treasure wasted.
A tour in the environs of Peking, to the Great Wall and to
some of the temples built on the hills to the west of the town,
confirms the bad impressions received in the city. This excursion
occupies between three and four days, and can be performed
with relative comfort, and in ordinary times without the least
danger. A ‘boy,’ that is to say, a domestic servant—a
combination of guide, interpreter, valet and cook, and who is
often, by the way, a very expert disciple of Vatel—a donkey and
donkey-boy, a waggon, drawn by two mules, and a waggoner,
are the staff necessary for this journey, which is usually performed
partly on foot and partly on donkey-back. This suite
may be considered somewhat numerous, but no other human
being but his own master would get a Chinese donkey to budge
a step forward, and the same may be said of the mules. As
to the ‘boy,’ he is the indispensable party into whose hands
you must trust yourself absolutely, even to the extent of
handing over your purse, so that he may settle your accounts
at the various inns and give the expected backsheesh to the
servants or to the guides and bonzes in the temples. Needless
to say, he perfectly understands how to take care of himself
in the matter of reserving for his own benefit the ‘squeezee,’ as
they say in pigeon-English. All Europeans who travel in the
Far East are obliged to have a retinue, which adds to their importance,
and in which every man has his particular function
199to fulfil, and will not undertake the least share of his fellow-servants’
work.
On leaving Peking by the Northern Gate, one crosses a sandy
and barren space, occupied in the thirteenth century by a part
of the town, which has now disappeared. Then come some
outlying towns, mainly inhabited by merchants, succeeded by
the admirably cultivated plain which extends from the north of
Peking to the foot of the hills. It is more barren to the south,
and trees only grow close to the villages, which are invariably
surrounded by groups of weeping-willows. In this region the
soil and the climate are too dry to allow of the cultivation
of rice, but a crop of winter wheat is obtained, and I have seen
it sown, and even appearing above the ground, in the month
of October. It does not freeze in the very dry earth, although
the thermometer falls twenty degrees, and the snow is never
very deep. This crop of wheat is harvested during May.
Presently you see fields of sorghum, millet, the staple food of
the people in these parts, and also of buckwheat. On all sides
the peasantry are hard at work, usually alongside strong
waggons, better built than those of the Siberian mujiks, and
drawn either by two mules or two horses, or sometimes by
three little donkeys. In the villages you can sometimes see
the grain thrashed or the long leaves of the sorghum being
bound in sheaves, which when dried are made into mats and
screens. The women help in the latter work, which invariably
takes place close to their doors, for they are never seen in
the fields. The roads are generally very bad, but have not
always been so. Many of the bridges are still in a superb condition,
although the fine flagstones with which they are paved
are in a shocking condition. Others, however, are in absolute
ruin, and the rivers which they once spanned have consequently
to be forded. Everything points to the fact that we
are passing over a once magnificent highroad, and effectively
it leads to the Tombs of the Mings, which explains why it
was built in such a sumptuous manner by that Dynasty, as
well as the state of abandonment into which it has fallen
since it has come into the hands of the Manchus, who dethroned
the Mings in 1644.
Very few places that I have ever visited have produced upon
me a greater impression of grandeur than the amphitheatre
formed by the lofty hills on whose last slopes stand the Tombs
of the thirteen Emperors of the Ming Dynasty. Each of these
200monuments is formed of an aggregation of buildings shaded by
magnificent trees, that present a striking contrast to the usual
gray barrenness of Chinese hills. The broad road which leads
to them, once paved but now in ruins, passes under a superb
triumphal arch into the silent valley, which seems deserted,
although in reality it is highly cultivated; the little villages
clustering at the foot of the heights, too, are, as a rule, difficult
to make out. After passing under numerous elegant gateways,
supported by winged columns, we at length arrive at a gigantic
alley of colossal monoliths, representing figures of animals and
monsters alternately sitting and crouching, and statues of
famous legislators and warriors. Roads radiate towards each
of the Tombs, of which I only visited that of the first Ming
Emperor who reigned in Peking.
After having passed through a high wall by a porch with
three badly-kept gates, we crossed a spacious courtyard planted
with trees, and presently entered the great hall. Before the
whole length of the façade extends several flights of marble
steps with exquisitely sculptured balustrades. The hall itself is
not less than 200 feet long by about 80 feet wide and 40 feet in
height. It is nearly empty, and at first you can only perceive
the forty gigantic wooden columns, each formed of the trunk of
a tree, that support the roof, and which two men cannot
embrace. These columns are said to have come from the confines
of Indo-China. In the midst of them, half hidden away,
is a small altar, ornamented with a few commonplace china
vases, which are crumbling to pieces and full of dust. Beyond
the altar, enclosed in a sort of tabernacle, is the tablet inscribed
with the deceased Emperor’s name in three Chinese characters.
His body lies beyond, at the end of a gallery a mile long,
which penetrates straight into the heart of the hill, but is walled
up a short distance from the entrance, which one reaches
through two courtyards separated by a portico. From the lofty
tower that rises over this entrance, the walls of which, by the
way, are embellished with names which numerous Chinese and
a few Europeans have been vulgar enough to scratch on the
walls with the points of their knives, the view includes the whole
semicircle of hills, as well as all the Tombs, which, by reason
of the very simplicity of their design, create an impression
of extreme grandeur. Their erection must have cost as great
an amount of labour as that which was bestowed by the
Egyptians upon the sepulchres of their Pharaohs.
201The Great Wall of China is another colossal undertaking, in
order to reach which you take the high road to Mongolia that
passes through the Pa-ta-ling Gate at the extremity of the pass
of Nan-kow. This highroad, which for centuries has been
daily traversed by long caravans of camels, engaged in the
traffic between Mongolia, Siberia, and China, was formerly
paved with blocks of granite, of which no trace is now to be seen,
either on that part of the road in the little town of Nan-kow, or
in the difficult mountain pass, and the traveller may therefore
conclude that they have either been used in the construction
of houses or washed away by some torrent. Nan-kow is a
walled town, like almost all those in the neighbourhood of
Peking, including the curious old suburb of Chao-yung-kwan,
over one of the doors of which there is an inscription in six
languages, one of which has not yet been deciphered. Everywhere
on the mountain sides towers and picturesque ruins of
fortifications manifest how great has ever been the fear of the
Chinese of the Tatars and Mongols, for protection against
whom the Great Wall was built. It is divided into two parts,
the inner and the outer wall, the first of which extends for
nearly 1,560 miles, from Shan-hai-kwan on the Gulf of Pe-chi-li
into the Province of Kan-su on the upper Yellow River.
Built two hundred years before our era, needless to say, it
has been often repaired and rebuilt. Near the sea it is constructed
of stone, but brick has been used on the inland portions.
In thickness it varies from 16 feet to 20 feet, and is about the
same in height, but to the west it is nothing like so lofty.
The inner wall, which dates from the sixth century, was
almost entirely reconstructed by the Mings in the sixteenth
century, and is 500 miles long. This is the wall to be seen
from Pa-ta-ling, passing over the hill, and then proceeding
right and left to climb in zigzag fashion to the very summit of
the mountains. It is constructed after the model of the walls of
Peking, on a substructure of stone, with two rows of brick battlements.
The top is paved, and forms a roadway 11 feet in
width. Its height varies, according to the irregularity of the
land, between 12 feet and 20 feet, and at about every 300 feet
there are towers twice the height of the wall, also surrounded
by bastions and battlements. Although less imposing than the
Wall of Peking, the Great Wall of China does not deserve
the flippant remarks that have been made about it. Against an
enemy unprovided with artillery, and horsemen like the Mongols
202and Tatars, it must have presented a very serious obstruction,
and if occasionally they have been able to scale it, it has
generally resisted every attempt at invasion. Although it has not
been used under the present Dynasty, which is of Tatar origin,
it has remained, thanks to the care bestowed upon it in
former times, one of the best preserved monuments in China.
It is otherwise with the greater number of the temples
scattered over the hills, which stand amidst groups of magnificent
trees, whose green foliage contrasts so pleasantly with
the gray, barren hills which the Chinese, like all other peoples
of the Far East, never cultivate. Visitors are pleasantly received
in the temples near Peking, some of which are used
as summer residences by European diplomatists tired of being
shut up in the city, whose pestilential miasmas occasionally
reach even their houses, although they are surrounded by
parks. Some of them are only wooden structures, with dwellings
for the bonzes surrounding courtyards on to which open
the various sanctuaries. The use of wood in the Far East for
building purposes does not prevent a certain display of magnificence
and art, and the Japanese temples at Nikko and many
other places are marvels of richness and beauty, although they
are entirely built of wood. Unfortunately, unless they are very
carefully looked after, they are naturally apt to deteriorate much
quicker than stone buildings. Needless to say, the Chinese
temples are in a very dilapidated condition. I cannot say that
I was impressed by the amazing collection of Buddhas, some
life-size, others colossal, some gilded and others painted, no
two of which are said to be exactly alike; or by the crowd of
horrible monsters with ferocious faces and abominable gestures
who guard the entrances to these temples. They one and all
filled me rather with disgust than with the slightest impression
of awe. This degenerate Buddhism is very different from that
which exists in Ceylon, and among certain Japanese sects.
The only traces of the original character of the religion, or at
any rate of the land from which it sprang, are to be found in
the lovely stone pagoda of the Pi-Yuen-Sse, whose style is
pure Hindu, and contains some exquisite bas-reliefs representing
scenes in the lives of Sakyamuni and his saints, or,
again, in the even more beautiful sculpture to be admired in
the Temple of the Yellow Tower.
The Summer Palace, which, by the way, was not a genuine
Chinese building, but erected under the direction of the Jesuits
203in the eighteenth century in the style of Versailles, has not
been rebuilt since its destruction by the Allies in 1860, and all
access to its ruins has been prohibited. Not far distant is the
summer residence of the Empress Dowager, surrounded by
magnificent gardens. The road which leads to it is well kept.
For the matter of that, as the Empress was about to make a pilgrimage
to a neighbouring shrine at the time I passed that way,
all the roads were being tinkered up for her advent. Hundreds
of coolies were working under the direction of mandarins of the
second or inferior rank, with the white or gold button, who
were dashing on horseback hither and thither, giving orders
and generally superintending so that all irregularities were
rapidly disappearing under cartloads of sand. These costly
repairs were, however, only ephemeral.
The Chinese Government never hesitates about wasting
money on trivialities. On one occasion, a river happening to
upset certain arrangements in one of the Imperial gardens,
it was, at enormous cost, drained from its bed, and allowed
to inundate and ruin hundreds of farms belonging to the
unfortunate peasants. On another occasion, with a view to
worthily celebrating the sixtieth birthday of the Dowager
Empress, the money intended for the reorganization of the
army in Pe-chi-li was squandered on processions, illuminations,
and fireworks. Whenever money is needed for anything but
the gratification of the greed and vanity of the Court officials, it is
never forthcoming; and every traveller who has been to China
will corroborate what I have said concerning not only the
neighbourhood of Peking, but also of Canton and Shanghai.
The highroads have practically ceased to exist, and the bridges
are rapidly crumbling to ruin. The Imperial canal, one of the
most magnificent works of past generations, which goes from
Hang-Chow to Tien-tsin, a distance of over 940 miles, and
unites the Blue, the Yellow, and the Pei-ho Rivers, and also
the capitals of the middle provinces, whence are obtained the
best provisions, is now at many points choked up with sand and
stones, and in others it is only a few inches deep, and can only
be used for local traffic. China of to-day is but a shadow of
what she has been, for her sole object in existence is to deceive,
and her administration is rotten to the core. This decadence
dates centuries back, but it culminated five years ago, when an
Empire of 400,000,000 inhabitants was obliged to humble itself
to a nation ten times its inferior in population and resources.
204
The literati or governing class—How it is recruited from the mass of the
people through examinations—Bachelors, Masters of Arts and Doctors—Enormous
number of candidates—The functionaries exclusively
selected from the literati—Most of the posts sold—The syndicate for
the exploitation of public offices—The gravest defect of the system,
the examinations, the subjects selected being merely exercises in
rhetoric and memory about an immense quantity of nonsensical
matter supplied by the Chinese classics and ancient annals—Abortive
attempts to introduce small doses of Western science into these examinations—Superstitions
of the literati—This stupid system of examination
the principal cause of Chinese isolation—Complete disappearance
of the military spirit resulting from the same fatal cause—Hostility
and contempt entertained by the literati against all European
progress—Difficulty of suppressing or reforming the mandarinate.
The curse of China and the main reason why her remarkable
people, who once deserved to be compared with the ancient
Romans, have sunk to the degraded condition in which we
find them at present, is the mandarinate, which she has the
misfortune to consider one of her chief glories. It is this
corrupt and antiquated system that is destroying the Celestial
Empire. It has often been observed that nations generally
have the Government they deserve, and it is undoubtedly
true that the administration of China is, in a measure, the
logical result of her geographical situation and singular history,
to which might be added the peculiar character of her people.
On the other hand, there is no question that the worst traits of
the national character are accentuated in the mandarin class
which governs the country, and saps its activity and energy.
Theoretically, the Chinese Government is based on paternal
principles; as a matter of fact, it is entirely in the hands of
the class known as ‘literati,’ from whose ranks all the State
205officials, or mandarins, are recruited; and if we wish to understand
the primary causes of the misgovernment of the Celestial
Empire, we must become thoroughly acquainted with the origin
and manners of the mandarins, who are not hereditary, but
recruited from the mass of the people in the most democratic
manner in the world by means of public competitive examinations.
These examinations confer three honorary degrees,
which might be likened to those bestowed by our Universities:
Bachelors, Masters of Arts, and Doctors. The degree of
Bachelor is competed for in each district (there are sixty districts
per province), and that of Master of Arts in the eighteen provincial
capitals; that of Doctor, on the other hand, is only to be
obtained in Peking. One may imagine the esteem in which
these degrees are held by the people when I mention that in
1897, when I was at Shanghai, no less than 14,000 candidates
came up for examination at Nanking, with only 150 honours to
be distributed amongst them. It is considered a great honour
for a family to include a literate amongst its members, and his
obtaining his degree is celebrated throughout the entire province
which enjoys the privilege of being his birthplace. Should he
be fortunate enough to obtain his laureate at Peking, he is welcomed
on his return to his native town as a veritable conquering
hero. It is quite true that, in order to pass his examination, he has
to go through an amount of physical suffering and patient
endurance which would deter any but a Chinaman from the
attempt. Each candidate is shut up for three whole days
in a box-like cell four feet square, in which he cannot
even lie down, with no other companions than his brush,
paper and stick of Chinese ink; and barely an examination
passes without some student or other being found dead in his
cell. According to popular rumour, it is said that the all-pervading
corruption penetrates even into these cells, and that
not a few candidates succeed less through their merits than
through the golden gate; and it has even been observed that
the sons and near relatives of existing high functionaries are
pretty sure to pass; but as a rule, however, it seems that merit
generally obtains its reward. It is, however, after the examinations
that begin the real difficulties of those who are not rich
and are without influential friends. One might naturally expect
that after the trouble, fatigue, and expense of the examination
were over, some post or other would surely be forthcoming
to recompense the efforts of the candidate; but the contrary
206is the rule, and many a man has had to wait a lifetime before
obtaining the reward for which he has striven so hard. Nevertheless,
those students who seem to possess exceptional ability
generally push themselves forward in the following manner: a
syndicate has been formed which advances the funds necessary
to assist the aspirant in mounting the first rung on the ladder of
fame, and to help him further, until he is in a position to return
the money borrowed, either in cash or kind, with a very handsome
interest. The idea of exploiting public offices as a
sort of commercial concern is, to say the least, ingenious, and,
what is more, it seems to be occasionally exceedingly remunerative.
On the other hand, the expense and the intrigue that
such a pernicious system must necessarily involve can better
be imagined than described. As an instance in point, I was
assured that the position of Tao-tai or Governor of Shanghai,
worth, for not more than three years, a salary of 6,000 taels,
or £900, a year, was recently bought for over £30,000.
Even worse than the purchase of public offices, and the
favouritism shown at examinations, are the subjects chosen for
competition, which are exclusively selected from Chinese
classical and scholastic literature. The works of Confucius,
those of his disciples, of Mencius and of other philosophers who
enlightened the world two thousand years ago, and a mass of
quaint lore derived from the ancient Chinese chronicles, form
the subject of these extraordinary examinations, and the students
have to learn some hundred volumes as nearly as possible by
heart, memory being the one thing most highly prized by the
Board of Examiners. The student is expected to quote
certain extracts word by word as they appear in the books,
and his examination papers must, moreover, be embellished by
a great quantity of quotations—the more the better. An
elegant style is obtained only through acquaintance with as
many of the 60,000 Chinese characters as possible, from which
the student is expected to make an appropriate selection, and,
as each sign means a word, and not a few of these are almost
unknown, and only to be found in some hidden corner of an
ancient volume, the waste of time is appalling. The preparatory
instruction, therefore, simply consists in cramming the wretched
candidate with a knowledge of as great a number of signs or
characters, and quotations from the Celestial classics, as
possible. One of the most curious features of the Chinese is
that, although everybody knows how to read and write a little,
207no one can do so perfectly, for the simple reason that no
Chinaman has ever been known to completely master the
voluminous alphabet of his country. The most ignorant has
acquired some ten or a dozen characters relating to his trade,
and sufficient for his purpose. When a man has mastered
6,000 or 8,000 he is considered learned, and, when we come
to think of it, there must be very few ideas that cannot be
expressed by so many thousands of words. Many of the
higher literati manage to acquire even 20,000 words, and
the state of the mind of that man may safely be left to the
reader’s imagination, especially if we reflect that he must
have passed his entire youth studying by rote thousands of
signs only distinguishable from one another by the minutest
strokes, and in acquiring a prodigious amount of obsolete
knowledge from classical books and annals whose authors
lived in remote antiquity. Of late years a slight modification
has been introduced in the shape of certain concessions to
what is officially called the ‘new Western culture.’ To the
usual questions selected from the works of Confucius and other
philosophers have now been added the identification of names
mentioned in modern geography, and since the Chino-Japanese
War the examiners at Nanking ask their candidates some very
grave and informing queries in astronomy, as: ‘What is the
apparent diameter of the sun as seen from the earth? and what
would be that of the earth as seen from the sun or from some
other planet?’ The following sage question is typical of
the intellectual condition of both examiner and examined:
‘Why is the character in writing which represents the moon
closed at the bottom, and the one which represents the sun
left open?’
In the capital of a province near Shanghai the learned
examiners wished to encourage the study of mathematics, and,
accordingly, prizes were offered for competition and a solemn
circular sent out to encourage young men to take part in the
examination. Some young fellows, who had been educated in
the missionary schools, solved most of the problems offered
fairly well, and in accordance with the rules of modern elementary
education. Others, on the other hand, who were better
acquainted with the Four Books and the Five Great Classics
than with Western geometry, made the remarkable discovery
that the problems were explained in an old work written many
centuries ago, with the result that they simply copied word by
208word the fantastical solutions therein formulated, and, of
course, carried off the prizes. In the following year one of the
professors of a foreign missionary college asked leave for a
competent European teacher to be included in the examining
committee in order to assist in the preparation of the papers
and to pronounce a verdict upon the answers sent in. Needless
to say, the demand was refused and the questions were
sent out without the least attempt to insure their being loyally
answered. Among the questions asked at a competitive
scientific examination in Chekiang in 1898 were the following:
‘How are foreign candles made, and in what consists
their superiority over those manufactured in China?’ ‘Name
the principal ports touched at by the steamers running between
Japan and the Mediterranean.’ ‘To which of the new sciences
and methods which people are endeavouring to introduce
should the greatest importance be attached?’ ‘Write an essay
on international law.’ Comment is needless.
These foolish innovations, of course, do not change the fundamental
scholastic and rhetorical character of Chinese examinations,
and the usual themes for the compositions remain
identical. Here are two examples quoted by Mr. Henry
Norman: ‘Confucius hath said, “In what majesty did Chun
and Yu reign over the Empire, as though the Empire was
as nothing unto them!” Confucius hath said, “Yao was
verily a great sovereign. How glorious he was! Heaven
alone is grand, and Yao only worthy to enter it. How exalted
was his virtue! The people could find no words wherewith to
qualify it.”‘[22] This was the theme that had to be developed
by many a flower of rhetoric. It is only through the study of
these books, written twenty centuries ago, and encumbered by
parables and affected maxims, and of ancient annals crammed
with fantastic legends believed in as absolute facts, that are
selected the members of the class who are expected to govern
China!
The result of this method of education was exemplified as
late as 1897, two years after a war which had brought the
Celestial Empire within an inch of ruin, when a censor, one of
the highest officials in the Empire, addressed a document to
the Emperor, wherein he protested against the concessions
made to the inventions of the Western barbarians, which he
209did not hesitate to qualify as calculated to disturb the peace
of the dead. Instead of constructing railways, he gravely
insisted, it were wiser to offer a handsome reward to the man
who should recover the secret of making flying chariots to be
drawn by phœnixes which certainly existed in the good old times.
A little time previously a member of the Tsung-li-Yamen had
lifted his voice to protest against the various railway embankments
and the nails that studded the lines, which, he believed,
were likely to inconvenience and wound the sacred dragons
who protect the cities of the Empire, and who dwell beneath
the soil. The strange superstitions of the feng-shui geomancy
dealing with the circulation through the air of good and evil
spirits, and with the prescribed height to which buildings may
be erected, and the exact positions of doors and other like
grave matters, which, it seems, unless they be properly attended
to, are apt to upset and offend the flying spirits in their progress
through space, exercise a greater empire over the minds
of Chinese officials in the very highest places than matters
which we should consider of the greatest importance.
The fact that the mandarinate is recruited from the democracy
renders it even more pernicious than if it constituted a
hereditary aristocracy, for, as it stands, nobody has any interest
in overthrowing it. The most intelligent people try to enter
it, and it attracts all the most gifted men in the Empire, but
only to corrupt them. The literary class enjoys an enormous
prestige, and the poorest man lives in the hope of seeing his
son one of its learned members. It, therefore, does not excite
any of that hatred usually provoked by caste privilege, and
thus does not stand the least danger of being upset. On
the other hand, the condition to which it has reduced the
Celestial Empire is a condemnation of the system of examination
for Government office, and many a Western State might
do well to study this question and to take its lesson to heart.
That its effects have been more accentuated in China than
elsewhere is undeniable, being the result of diverse historic
and ethnographical circumstances peculiar to that nation. The
Chinese reached a high state of civilization long before our
era, and being more numerous and intelligent than their neighbours,
so soon as they were cemented into one compact
nationality they proceeded to subjugate Indo-China and
Korea; and so it came to pass that China had no dangerous
foes to disturb her, Japan being isolated in her island Empire,
210and she was separated from India by a formidable mountain
barrier and from the West by immense deserts. From that
time the Chinese had nothing to trouble them, and had but
to live in quiet admiration of the labours of their ancestors,
who were the authors of the perfect peace which they enjoyed,
and thus little by little they accustomed themselves to look
upon them as superior beings and as types of perfection.
More advanced than any of their tributary subjects, and having
nothing to fear from competition, they became lost in self-admiration,
or, rather, in the admiration of those who had
made their country what it was, and ended by believing that
no further progress was either necessary or possible, and thus
are now absolutely non-progressive.
The isolation and the want of emulation in which China has
existed for so many centuries have destroyed whatever energy
and initiative she might otherwise have possessed. It should be
remarked, however, that the Roman Empire was in very much
the same condition, and for the same reason, at the time of the
invasion of the Barbarians, and that outside the moral revolution
effected by Christianity—which, by the way, only obtained its
fullest developments by the overthrow of the Empire—no further
progress was being made. The sterile admiration of bygone
greatness, therefore, is the foundation-stone of the doctrines of
Confucius. The Chinese people, who are essentially practical
and positive, and less given, perhaps, than any other in the
world to study general questions and lofty ideals, soon deteriorated
under so retrogressive a system, and eventually lost
all sight of the origin of many of their most important institutions.
Religion and morals were reduced to mere rites and
ceremonies that only conceal the emptiness of Chinese civilization,
and so the nation came to the conclusion that the one
thing in this world worth the doing was to save appearances,
and conceal corruption beneath a flimsy mask.
The isolation of China and her superiority over her neighbours
produced another very grave consequence—the ruin of
that martial spirit which has obliterated all idea of duty and
sacrifice. The military mandarins are despised by their civil
colleagues, and their tests consist almost exclusively of physical
exercises such as archery and the lifting of heavy weights.
‘One does not use good iron to make nails, nor a good man to
make a soldier,’ says the Chinese proverb, and thus it is that
the Chinese army is recruited from a horde of blackguards
211and plunderers, whose only good qualities are their contempt for
life and physical endurance, which might under proper management
turn this raw material into an excellent army.
The Celestial Empire is quite as incapable of resisting
the advance of modern civilization as it is of assimilating it.
From the literati who govern the land nothing is to be expected,
for they will neither learn nor forget anything. Their prejudices
are so strong as to prevent their accepting any great
movement of reform, even if it were in their interests, and
in the stagnant position in which China is at present, aided
by the lack of intercommunication between the provinces,
the mandarins do exactly as they please. The Peking Gazette,
the official paper, described quite recently in the most glowing
terms the suppression of a revolt, showing at the same time
the expenses incurred and the rewards offered to those who
had aided in its suppression. The real truth of the story
was that no revolution whatever had taken place in the district
mentioned, and the only unusual event which had occurred was
the pursuit of a runaway thief by three soldiers. Such an
instance could not possibly occur in a well-regulated State, and
naturally the men who profited by the lie will not be very
desirous of a change in so profitable a system. ‘Those who
despair most of China are those who know her best,’ once
said a missionary to me; and his words have been confirmed
by nearly every traveller in the Far East with whom I have
spoken on the subject. No reform can be expected in the
country from within, and a proof in point will be found in
the history of the Palace Revolution of September 9th, 1898.
The question, therefore, which presents itself is whether
external pressure can be brought to bear on China with a view
to reforming her Government without causing the dislocation
of the Empire.
212
Great antiquity of China’s national existence—Stagnation of her organization
as well as of her social, religious and administrative institutions—Unity
of Chinese civilization notwithstanding varied surroundings,
differences of language and of racial origin, it being much more inflexible
than that of the Western world—Some of the principal
characteristics of the Chinese—Love of false appearances—Gulf that
divides the theoretical from the practical in all matters of Chinese
administration—Corruption of the Chinese Government and its determination
to impede progress—Lightness of the taxes—The mass of
the people apparently happy under distressing circumstances—The
good-humour and liveliness of the Celestials—Pity said to be absolutely
excluded from the Chinese character—Why the Chinese make bad
soldiers—Organization of the family and position of women—Vices of
the Chinese: love of gambling, opium, filthy habits and superstitions—Their
better qualities—The people themselves not in a state
of decadence—Primary effects of contact with Western civilization.
The Chinese are at one and the same time the most numerous
and the longest existing nation in the world. The annals of
the Celestial Empire date as far back as those of Egypt, and
twenty centuries ago, when States which now rule the earth
were in process of formation, China, having undergone several
evolutions, was already constituted as she is to-day. The
Chinese have never been subjected to any of those marked and
repeated changes which, during the last two thousand years,
have so profoundly modified the social organization and the
manners and customs of other countries; and even the introduction
of a new religion did not produce in the East anything
comparable to the revolution which, at about the same time,
occurred in the West through the spread of Christianity.
Buddhism did not modify the Chinese people, but the
Chinese people modified Buddhism after their own image and
likeness, without, however, permitting the doctrines of Sakyamuni
213to exercise the least influence over their character, or
change an iota of their ideas concerning life and morality,
which were determined by Confucius and other sage Celestials,
being in reality derived less from the meditations of philosophers
or the inspiration of prophets than from the intuitive instinct
of the race. The institutions of China have not altered the
mental habits or method of life upon which they profess to be
modelled, any more than has the theoretical principle of family
existence altered the Imperial Government; for the Chinese
even now often qualify their high officials by the endearing
epithets ‘father’ and ‘mother.’ Political revolutions have not
made a deeper impression upon the fossilized organization of
the Chinese Government, than has religion on the character
and manners of the people. The various dynasties that have
succeeded each other have changed nothing, although some
of them have been of foreign origin: the Mongolian in the
thirteenth century and the Manchurian in our own time; but
they effected no variations in the system of Government, and
only placed certain functionaries to watch over the mandarins,
precisely as the Tatar marshals are instructed to spy upon the
officials of nowadays.
China has always been governed after Chinese methods, and
although she has occasionally been conquered by foreigners, she
has invariably absorbed them into her own civilization, and
obliged them to observe her traditions. The Chinese care
very little about the future, the greatness or the independence
of their country; but they cling with extraordinary tenacity to
their old manners and customs, and thereby offer a striking
contrast to their neighbours the Japanese, who, notwithstanding
their intense patriotism, will make any sacrifice, even that of
religious principle and most cherished tradition, if they think
that they may thereby benefit their Empire. The Japanese
have almost the same conception of patriotism as Europeans,
but not so the Chinese, with whom this virtue is merely a racial
affair, which in the hour of danger invariably proves of little
or no avail, especially against adversaries of a kind never
previously encountered.
Does there exist, beyond this intense love of old customs
and of an immutable civilization, any bond of union among
the three or four hundred millions of human beings who
constitute the population of China?[23] At first sight no people
214could possibly appear more thoroughly homogeneous than the
Chinese; but it is not necessary to stay long among them
to perceive that even from the physical point of view there are
certain racial differences which make it more difficult at first
to note the dissimilarity which separates their race from our
own. Even more striking are the diverse dialects spoken in
the Empire, several of which are not mere patois, but distinct
languages, rendering it impossible for a native of Canton or
Foochow to make himself understood at Peking; and in
many provinces these idiomatic peculiarities are very interesting.
In Fo-kien no less than three patois are spoken—the
Amoy, Swatow, and the Foochow, which are utterly different
from each other. Between the cities of Peking and Tien-tsin,
scarcely thirty leagues apart, there is already a marked difference
in the matter of dialect. It is also a noteworthy fact
that very little sympathy exists among the Chinese from different
provinces, who keep aloof from each other even when circumstances
oblige them to live in the same town. Very marked,
too, are the divergent characteristics and temperaments observable
between the inhabitants of the North and those of
the South, the former being much the most energetic and enterprising,
but at the same time more hostile to foreigners. The
Central Government is almost unknown by the multitudes outside
of Peking, and it would be a comparatively easy task to
raise an army in one part of China to fight against the inhabitants
of another.
The question may now be asked whether China, which covers
an area equal to that of Europe, and is even more thickly
peopled, is less homogeneous than our own Continent. Does
there exist between the various Chinese provinces the same
differences that mark each of the nations that in the aggregate
form Europe? From the geographical and climatic point of
view it is evident that the difference is not very great, although
China possesses very high mountains only on her Western
215frontier, and her plains are much more extensive and continuous.
But from the ethnical point of view it would be an
exaggeration to state that there is much analogy between China
and Europe, since the former is certainly much the more homogeneous.
The different countries of our Continent are inhabited
by peoples who are only remotely related to each other, and
who are merely united by the ties of a common civilization,
whereas amongst the subjects of the Son of Heaven the ties
are much stronger and the physical resemblance is more
marked. I am, of course, speaking of the inhabitants of China
proper only—of the eighteen provinces, to which might be
added a nineteenth, Ching-king, or Southern Manchuria, now
in process of colonization by the Chinese. The various
tributary peoples belonging to the Celestial Empire, such as
the Mongolians, the Thibetans and the Turki in Eastern
Turkestan, are absolutely distinct from each other and from
the predominant race; but although the dependencies which
they cover constitute two-thirds of the surface of the entire
Empire, they only form a twentieth of the entire population,
and do not share in its Government.
It should be observed that the absence of any sympathy
between the inhabitants of the different Chinese provinces might
have been found quite recently exemplified in Europe, not
merely between nation and nation, but between province and
province in the same country, and that linguistic variations are
still noticeable even in the most homogeneous countries.
History is full of instances of intestine troubles which have
existed in nearly every European nation, and it is but thirty
years since the Germans were at war with each other.
I have often heard related the misadventures of two
Celestials, natives of different provinces, who, whilst travelling
in Europe, met one day only to discover that their sole
means of making themselves understood was by speaking
English. But does not this story recall the recent Slav
Congress in Austria, whose debates had to be held in German
in order that they might be followed by all the delegates?
The existence of patois and dialects results from the inhabitants
of certain districts having neither the time nor the money to
go beyond their village further than the nearest market-town.
Then, again, education in China does not tend, as in Europe,
to produce unity of language, since its writing is quite independent
of pronunciation, and the innumerable letters of its
216alphabet represent, not sounds, but ideas. The lack of any
spirit of patriotism may be largely attributed to this state of
absolute isolation, to which may be added a general and very
profound ignorance. But patriotism as we understand it is,
after all, a matter of modern sentiment, therefore not to be
looked for in so antiquated a nation as the Chinese.
It matters little whether there be a common origin or not,
since our notions of race are very difficult to define, and modern
anthropological and ethnographical discoveries tend more and
more towards the acceptance of the theory of the existence
of distinct races. Whereas the patois of the ten northernmost
provinces are merely dialects of the Manchurian languages,
those of the south, especially of Fo-kien and Canton, are totally
different, and apparently confirm the theory that the Chinese
invaders who came from the north-east found the land already
inhabited by a people whom they assimilated, precisely as they
are doing in our time in Manchuria, and as did the Romans
in ancient Gaul.
The entire population of China, excepting a few obscure
mountain tribes, the remainder, possibly, of the autochthones
of the South, whatever their origin, have for centuries moulded
themselves on a civilization that penetrates far deeper into the
details of every-day life than any known in Europe. The
result is a greater uniformity among the people who have
adopted it than will be found among men who follow a less
rigid code that permits of greater latitude and affords a freer
scope for the exercise of individuality. Many peculiarities in
the Chinese character appear at first contradictory, even to
those who have lived long in the country, and who assert that
no European can ever thoroughly understand a Chinaman
because his mind is so differently constituted.
The most striking characteristic of the Chinese, says Mr.
Arthur H. Smith, an American missionary who has lived
twenty-two years in China, in his admirable book ‘Chinese
Characteristics,’ is their remarkable manner of ‘facing’ a
thing. To save appearances, or to ‘face’ a difficulty cunningly
rather than boldly, is the endeavour of the inhabitants of the
Kingdom of the Son of Heaven, and is the key, moreover, to a
great many other matters that might otherwise appear incomprehensible.
Every Chinaman considers himself an actor,
whose public words, acts, and deeds have nothing in common
with reality. The most praiseworthy and even the most innocent
217of actions, unless it be performed in a certain way,
will only cover its author with shame and ridicule. If a fault
is committed, the guilty party is expected to deny it with the
utmost effrontery in spite of convincing evidence, and on no
account must he confess himself guilty, even if he is obliged to
repair the injury done. From the highest to the lowest, the
Chinese entertain a profound respect for shamming. A boy
caught stealing will slip the coveted object up his sleeves,
stoop down and pretend to pick it up, and with the smile of
an angel present it to his master, saying, ‘Here is what you
have lost.’ A little over a hundred years ago the mandarins
who were escorting Macartney, the English Ambassador, into
the presence of the Son of Heaven, profited by his ignorance of
their language to place over his carriage an inscription to the
effect that it contained ‘the Ambassador bringing tribute from
the Kingdom of England,’ and thus kept up the fiction of the
universal sovereignty of their lord and master.
Undoubtedly the observance of a certain amount of etiquette
is both useful and praiseworthy, and so considered by all
civilized nations; but Chinese etiquette is the most punctilious
and complicated that was ever imagined, and never on any
account to be neglected for a single instant. This excessive
attention to outward forms, which, if they be but observed,
may conceal any kind of iniquity, explains the fact that in
China there is a deeper gulf between theory and practice than
in any other country in the world. That it has always been so
may be questioned, but at present the morals of Confucius
have long since been lost in a code of etiquette which defines
virtue as consisting in the observance to the letter of the three
hundred rules of ceremony and the three thousand regulations
of conduct, without paying the least attention to the spirit
in which they were originally formulated.
It is in the system of Government in China that the contrast
between precept and practice becomes most evident.
As Mr. Henry Norman remarks with hardly exaggerated
severity, ‘Every Chinese official, with the possible exception
of one in a thousand, is a liar, a thief and a tyrant!’
Examples confirming this assertion are very numerous, and
even the celebrated Li Hung-chang cannot be included in the
list of those officials who are noted for their honesty, since he
had to disgorge a great part of the immense fortune he had
accumulated—twenty millions, it is reputed—to save his head
218during the Chino-Japanese War, when he had to purchase
the goodwill of many Court dignitaries, eunuchs and others,
notwithstanding which, money matters still occupy a great deal
of his attention. I had the honour while I was at Peking to
dine at the French Legation in the company of this exalted
personage, on the occasion of the visit of the Admiral commanding
the French Fleet in the Far East and several officers
of his staff. Li conversed through the intermediary of an
interpreter named Ma, to whom he spoke in the Fo-kien, his
native dialect; it appears he speaks Manchu very badly. He
put to each of the guests several polite questions usual among
Orientals, inquired after their rank, their age, and invariably
wound up his courteous inquiries by asking: ‘Well, and what
is your salary?’ With us the income of an official is a matter
of very little importance, but with the famous mandarin it was
the essential.
For centuries the administration of China has been as corrupt
as it is to-day, but for all this it has never driven the people
to rebellion. It is true that occasionally there are local agitations,
whose chiefs go so far as to pounce upon offending
representatives of authority and convey them to the capital of
the district, or province, to demand their degradation, which
is more often than not accorded—a fact which inspired an
English paper at Shanghai to descant on the ‘democratic
manner in which the Chinese participate in their government.’
Oppression tempered by revolt is the rule which prevails in the
Celestial Empire, but there is no fear of a general revolution
against so degenerate a system. This administrative machine,
however, which appears to us to be so detestable, only impedes
progress, but does not affect the population, which is accustomed
to routine habits hundreds of years old, and has not
the remotest idea that a reform is either necessary or practicable.
When an enterprising man wishes to introduce even
the most insignificant of modern trades, he invariably attracts
the attention of the mandarins, to whom he is obliged to apply
for permission to carry on his novelty, and will only obtain it
after much bribery and a promise to pay such a huge percentage
on his profits as to render the returns of his venture
too insignificant to be worth his continuing it. But for the
uncomplaining and unprogressive, who have nothing to do
with administrative affairs, life in China flows easily and quietly
enough. The taxes are very light, especially for the peasantry,
219who live by what they harvest in their fields, or for the workpeople,
whose wants are very small They fall, however, heavily
upon commercial transactions and the transport of merchandise,
are a great impediment to commerce, and though they
never affect them directly, for their poverty is far too great to
permit of their buying anything, they contribute indirectly to
keep the inferior classes in a state of abject poverty. According
to the investigations of Herr von Brandt, former German
Minister to Peking, and a man who has studied China profoundly,
the land tax in China reaches £5,250,000, being
about 3s. per acre in the North, with a maximum of 13s. in
the South. This is not much when we consider the intense
activity of Chinese agriculture, which extracts from the soil
almost everywhere two harvests annually. The total of the
Budget, according to the same authority, reaches 100,000,000
taels, or £15,000,000. Other authorities estimated it as high
as £24,000,000, but even this is not excessive. The following
is Von Brandt’s account of the different sources of revenue of
the Chinese Empire:
Inland Revenue
£5,250,000
Treaty port Customs (obtained by the International Customs Service)
3,450,000
Right for transit in the interior (likin)
1,800,000
Native Customs and tax on native opium
1,500,000
Salt tax
1,500,000
Sale of titles and honorary distinctions
750,000
Tribute of rice
450,000
Licenses, etc.
300,000
Total
£15,000,000
The public revenues, gathered by the provincial treasuries, are
sent on to Peking after deduction of the amount necessary for
the requirements of the district. It is stated that only a third
of these receipts is disposable for the needs of the Central
Government.
The mass of the Chinese people endure, therefore, without
much discontent, a Government which in ordinary time weighs
very lightly upon them, that meddles very little in the affairs
of their villages or communes, always very strongly constituted
in the Far East, and, above all, never disturbs their
ancient customs. Exceedingly poor, and only able to live by
dint of hard work, and having a very severe struggle for life,
220the people have no time to waste on philosophical reflections,
and, moreover, possess no standard of comparison to assist it
to judge of the hardness of its fate. In addition to this, we
must not forget that the Chinese are endowed by nature with
an excessive spirit of conservatism and a patience and perseverance
quite beyond praise, to which must be added a
jovial good-humour that enables them to endure an existence
which to the people of any other country would appear intolerable.
Peasants and workpeople alike have no hope of
ever seeing their humble condition improved, and their prospective
existence is one of absolute monotony, entirely passed
in sowing and reaping, in carrying heavy burdens, in the
turning of looms, or in labouring the earth, without having,
excepting on a few feast-days, a moment’s rest, save what is
absolutely necessary for meals and sleep. None the less, they
always seem very happy, complain very little, and thoroughly
enjoy their few pleasures, and apparently absolutely ignore their
troubles.
This happy spirit of resignation explains why the Chinese,
notwithstanding their poverty, are one of the most contented
people in the world, and, consequently, one of the happiest;
but, unfortunately, they are exposed from time to time to
dreadful calamities: an inundation, an epidemic, or a bad
harvest, which brings about inevitable misery and famine
to the entire population, who are left without any resources
because their work has not been sufficiently remunerative to
enable them to put anything by for a rainy day. Not a year
passes without a dreadful calamity occurring somewhere or
other in the immense Celestial Empire, causing the deaths of
hundreds of thousands of people, so that, notwithstanding the
astonishing number of children born, the population apparently
does not increase. Here, then, we have a striking application
of the doctrines of Malthus; for in this society, into which no
ray of progress is admitted, men multiply quicker than their
means of subsistence, but natural calamities re-establish the
balance by annually overwhelming a prodigious number of
men, women and children.
The exaggerated sense of conservatism and the improvidence
of the administration are in part responsible for the occurrence
of these grave calamities, which are generally accompanied by
a recrudescence of that chronic piracy and brigandage which
is peculiar to China, being the sole means of gaining a livelihood
221left to many ruined wretches. Sometimes, however, the
agents of the Government, after having done nothing either
to prevent a catastrophe or to mitigate its consequences, increase
it in times of famine by their avidity in seizing the rice,
and thus provoke a rebellion, as happened in 1898 at various
parts of the Yang-tsze-Kiang. But beyond these cases, in
which the authorities are manifestly guilty, the Chinese people
submit with the utmost resignation to calamities which they
foresee and consider as merely natural, and which, when they
happen, barely ruffle their habitual placidity. Death to such a
people cannot have the same terrors it has for us.
Europeans are of all the civilized peoples of the earth those
who complain most of life, but yet who hold most dearly to it.
The people of the Far East, the Chinese as well as the Japanese,
on the other hand, consider it least. Indifference to death
seems to be with them almost a physical characteristic, the
result of the singular insensibility of their nervous system.
With respect to this last, we have plenty of evidence. The
doctors in the European hospitals where natives are treated
relate with amazement how their patients undergo the most
painful operations without a murmur and without the necessity
of having to resort to anæsthetics. In every-day life, too, the
same curious apathy is to be observed in the extraordinary
facility with which they can fall asleep whenever they choose,
even in the midst of the most awful din and noise, and they
can, moreover, remain for hours in one position without
making the slightest motion. The reverse of the medal is
that, although they are so indifferent to their own sufferings,
they are without the slightest feeling for those of others, and
can watch the writhing agony of a human being without expressing
the least horror or sympathy. The dreadful custom
of binding the feet of women in such a manner as to push the
heel forward and double up the toes under the sole of the
foot, inducing a sore that is never healed, is but one out of
many examples of Chinese cruelty. The various and horrible
tortures inflicted by the judicial tribunals are another illustration
of the same dreadful instinct. The idea of bargaining
with a person in danger of death, or with a man who has
fallen into the water before attempting to rescue him from
drowning, are things which would never suggest themselves to
a European, but they come naturally to the Chinese.
The little value in which human life is held in the Far East
222is exemplified by the frequency of suicide, merely to vindicate
a point of honour which in many parts of Europe would be
settled at the point of the sword. The hara-kiri is not restricted
to Japan, or to the upper classes of Chinese society.
A Chinaman, even of the lowest order, will commit suicide
out of vengeance, spite, or even through what he considers a
matter of honour. Sacrifice of life is common even among
women, if we may believe the following narrative extracted from
a Chinese newspaper:
‘One day a sow belonging to a certain Madame Feng, having
done some slight injury to the door of a certain Madame Wang,
that lady forthwith demanded compensation with interest, which
was refused, whereupon Madame Wang announced her intention
of committing suicide. This dreadful threat proved altogether
too much for Madame Feng, who there and then determined
to beat her enemy with her own weapon by flinging herself
into the nearest canal.’[24] Suicides are by no means rare among
the upper classes of the literati, and quite recently a censor,
a high functionary who possesses the privilege of addressing
petitions to the Sovereign, awaited the passing of the Imperial
cortege and then killed himself as a political demonstration, in
order to add weight to a memorial he had presented concerning
some promise of the Government which had not been
fulfilled. The innumerable public executions form a pendant
to the equally numerous cases of suicide.
The reader may be somewhat surprised that a people fearing
death so little should make such bad soldiers; but, after all,
however lightly a man may hold his life, no one sacrifices it
unless it be for some ideal or other. If the Celestials care so
little about existence, they care still less for the grandeur of
their country, patriotic feeling being absolutely absent from
their nature. During the French campaign in Formosa it was
no uncommon thing to see Chinese prisoners refuse to do tasks
which they considered beneath them, and which they could
only be induced to perform after having seen the heads of a
few of their comrades fall under the sword. These very people
who prefer death rather than derogate from their dignity are the
same who have often been seen throwing down their arms on
the battlefield. It is but fair to add that it is the military
mandarins or officers who generally give the signal for a stampede.
Possibly, if commanded by other officers, the Chinese,
223with their wonderful power of enduring privation and callousness
for death, would eventually form an admirable army
which, even if it were unable to defend China against foreign
Powers, would certainly prove a valuable ally to one or other
of them.[25]
The practice of infanticide, especially of female infants, is
another example of the different ways in which the Chinese
and Europeans regard life and family ties. With us the love
of parents for children is often greater than that of children
for their parents; but in China it is quite the reverse. According
to Confucius, filial piety was the noblest of virtues,
indeed, the fountain-head of them all, and it is the one which
his compatriots still practise most assiduously. Among the
lower orders, however, this virtue is confined to the support
of parents; but this is a duty never neglected. Among the
twenty-four famous examples of filial piety is mentioned the
case of a man who, at the very moment that he was about to
bury his little three-year-old girl alive because he could not
afford to keep her as well as his old mother, had his infant
saved by the unexpected discovery of a treasure purposely
placed in the intended grave by a good genie, who was eager to
reward so beautiful an instance of filial piety. A still greater sin
against this virtue is that of not possessing male posterity; for
then the family becomes extinct, and the ancestors are deprived
of those sacrifices to which they have a right, and which it is the
first duty of every well-thinking man to offer them at regular
intervals. Marriages are contracted very early, and there is
no stronger evidence needed against a wife to obtain her divorce
than that she has not had a son. The doctrine of filial piety
as it is understood by the Chinese, and the worship of ancestors,
which is its highest expression, have their good as well as their
bad side. It forms the principal mainstay of that useless
system of admiration of an irrevocable past in which everything
is supposed to have been better than it can possibly be to-day,
and which of necessity turns the people of the Celestial Empire
from all desire for progress, because to do so would be an
outrage to an ancestry whose wisdom can never be surpassed.
If this belief produces unfortunate social consequences, it
224at the same time serves to consolidate family ties; but ever
so it is pernicious, especially with respect to the condition
of women. The lot of Chinese women is certainly not a
happy one. Lodging rather than living with her husband,
under his parents’ roof, the young wife is never allowed to see
her own family, excepting at certain fixed periods prearranged
by custom. In their earlier years married women in China
are exposed to the caprices and rebuffs of a shrewish mother-in-law,
who is the tyrant of the family, and whose humble
servants the daughters-in-law are expected to be. For all
this, they enjoy a certain amount of liberty, for they are neither
cloistered nor veiled; but they very rarely leave their house,
a state of semi-seclusion which does not prevent their morals
being often very indifferent. ‘In a district near mine,’ an
American missionary at Fo-kien assured me, ‘there are very
few husbands who are not deceived by their wives; and in the
one which is under my direction the state of morality, or rather
of immorality, is pretty nearly the same.’ Theoretically speaking,
adultery in a Chinese woman is considered a very grave crime.
As for the husband, he is not expected to practise fidelity. The
average Chinaman delights in obscenity, and revels in improper
stories and jests; and when he has a little money to spare,
spends it very freely in the loosest company. Those places of
entertainment where Venus reigns supreme are not, as in
Japan, situated in the best and most brilliantly lighted quarter
of the town, for such of my readers who have visited Canton
may possibly remember to have had pointed out to them the
‘flower-boats’—floating constructions two stories high, whose
internal decorations are of the most magnificent.
The national vice of the Chinese, however, is gambling, and
it is one very few of them can resist. In his interesting
monograph on Peking, Mgr. Favier tells us how the beggars in
rags will stake their last scrap of clothing. Certain fanatics
will stake their wives and children, and men have been known
to wager away their finger-joints. A young Christian, who was
an inveterate gambler, on one occasion staked and lost his wife,
who was only twenty years of age, for the large sum of 15s.
The missionary paid the debt and returned the young woman
to her mother. A few months afterwards she rejoined her
husband, and, adds the author, with the authority of his thirty-eight
years of missionary life in China, ‘in all probability he
has staked and lost her again.’
225Intemperance, on the other hand, is extremely rare; but
those who would be drunkards in Europe, Mgr. Favier assured
me when I was in Peking, are opium-smokers in China, where
he estimates that about one-fifth of the population of the towns
give themselves over to this horrible practice. In the country
districts the number is very much less, and another missionary,
who lives at Fo-kien in Southern China, estimates it at not
more than five per cent. The habit of opium-smoking is very
widely spread among the upper classes and the literati; but its
effects are not so pronounced among the rich as among the
poor, who, by reason of bad diet, are less prepared to resist
its effects, especially as they generally indulge in this vice in
their leisure hours in the most dreadful dens, and, moreover,
smoke a very inferior quality of opium. A young man who
begins to indulge in this pernicious habit in his twentieth year
usually shuffles off this mortal coil before he is twenty-two.
The vices of the Chinese do not particularly shock foreigners
who live among them, for they are not obliged to see them;
but it is otherwise with their universal and repellently filthy
habits and intense love of all kinds of horrible noises, which
they indulge in on every possible occasion, be it a sad or
merry one, a marriage or a funeral, at festivals as well as at
fires. What exasperates a European, however, more than anything
else are the vulgar superstitions which replace among the
Celestials the spirit of religion, which is quite absent, and which
constitute another hindrance to progress. Their strange ideas
with respect to feng-shui, or geomancy, often upset the least
attempt at introducing any improvement even in European concessions
or in such cities as Hong-Kong and Singapore. Then,
again, the disposition of the Chinese mind does not admit of
general or abstract ideas, and repudiates all sense of the ideal,
and, in a word, is sterilized by such absolute materialism as to
shock even the most cynical of Europeans. Take them for all
in all, therefore, the Celestials may be described as a not particularly
seductive or sympathetic people, all the less so as their
ugly appearance is not compensated for by the charm of
manner which renders the Japanese so agreeable and which
enables them to gild even their vices.
The Chinese, however, have certain great qualities which
are not precisely amiable, in spite of their extreme politeness,
a matter rather of ceremony than of sincerity. These qualities
are of a serious nature: patience, perseverance, hard work, the
226greatest aptitude for commercial pursuits, industry, economy,
singular resistive power, and respect for parents and old age,
to which may be added a remarkably contented frame of mind.
Therefore, even if the Chinese Government presents every
indication of decadence, it would be unjust to say the same of
its energetic and hard-working subjects. Unquestionably the
Government is not the only thing that needs reforming in
China. There is the secular habit of always looking to the
past for a type of perfection, which produces a certain atrophy
of the Chinese intelligence, depriving it of all elasticity, originality
and power of invention, and making it only capable of
servile imitation, lacking even discernment—a fact which is
admirably illustrated in the well-known story of the tailor to
whom a European sent an old pair of breeches in order that
he might copy them. This he did so conscientiously that he
cut a hole in the exact place where there had been one in the
well-worn pair which had been entrusted to him. In the same
order of ideas is an instance supplied me by the Jesuit Fathers
at Sicawei, near Shanghai, who showed me some drawings
executed by young Chinese students, intended for the plates
to be introduced in a publication on the fauna of the Far East.
They included some drawings of the skeletons of animals, which,
however, were disfigured, notwithstanding the entreaties of the
Fathers, with certain accidental blots and marks that appeared
upon the models. It is not impossible to induce the Chinese
to learn new habits, but it is almost impossible to induce them
to correct those which have been bequeathed to them by their
ancestors. It is possible to teach them how to work modern
machinery, but no power, human or divine, could teach a
Chinese carpenter to work otherwise than he has been trained
to do. At the orphanage at Sicawei, under the direction of
the Jesuits, I was shown over the carpentry department, and
was surprised to find each bench occupied by only one workman.
The Father who showed me over the school informed
me that it was absolutely impossible to induce two workmen
to occupy the same bench. The younger orphans saw the
older children and the adults who had remained in the service
of the mission working thus, and insisted upon doing likewise.
The awakening of any sense of originality or invention in
the mind of this people, by whom these qualities have been lost
for the simple reason that they have been systematically trained
to look backwards rather than forwards, will be a work of
227centuries, and only brought about by prolonged contact with
the peoples and ideas of the West, and this contact is only
now beginning. Before it produces its full effects upon the
race it will doubtless do so upon the land of China itself, if
permission can only be obtained to exploit the great natural
wealth which lies undisturbed beneath the soil of this enormous
Empire, and is thus lost to humanity. If the work
of developing the economic resources of China be undertaken
in a spirit of selfish interest, it will nevertheless very considerably
ameliorate the lot of the Chinese people, if only by extending
their field of activity, which is now limited to agriculture
and small industries. It will allow them, for example,
to exploit the subsoil, which is as much neglected in the
Celestial Empire as the soil itself has been perfected by
exceedingly skilful farming. If, as we believe, the great industries
resulting from modern scientific discoveries have really
contributed to better the condition of the people of Europe,
surely their introduction into China should be most beneficial
to the inhabitants of that vast Empire.
228
Concessions successively made by China to foreigners after the Wars of
1842, 1858–60, and 1895–98—Increasing tension between the Chinese
and Europeans in consequence of the latter desiring to extend their
action—Refusal of Europeans to conform to Chinese usages—Frequent
breaches made by them against the rules and traditional customs of
the Chinese—Contempt in which Western civilization is held by the
Chinese notwithstanding their acknowledgment of its power and
material advancement—This hostile spirit more marked among the
literati, who direct public opinion, than among the people.
The position of foreigners in the Middle Kingdom has
been defined by various formal conventions, the first of which
was the Treaty of Nanking, signed between England and China
after the war of 1842, known in history as the Opium War.
This was followed in 1844 by other treaties upon the same
subject with France and the United States, and still later with
other nations; in 1858 the treaties of Tien-tsin, which were
concluded with France and England after a short war, but
which were not ratified until 1860, after a much more serious
campaign and the entry of the allied troops into Peking, greatly
ameliorated the condition of foreigners in the Celestial Empire.
Lastly, in 1895, the treaty of Shimonosaki, imposed upon China
by victorious Japan, gave fresh facilities to foreign commerce.
It is a characteristic fact, however, that no serious concession
has been obtained from China until after a disastrous war, the
Government of Peking never ceding to persuasion, only to
force.
Since the sixteenth century Europeans have been able, as
the Arabs and Malays had before them, to carry on commerce
229with Canton without being molested, simply because they did
not show any intention of extending their commerce further.
But in the second quarter of the present century they became
more numerous and exacting, and tension began to
manifest itself. The pride of the Westerners, who were more
than ever convinced of the superiority of their civilization,
and whose progress at home was making giant strides, burned
to impose their ideas upon the whole world, and thereby
wounded the equally great pride of the Chinese, stubbornly
attached to those very ancient customs so haughtily
despised by the barbarians, as they were pleased to call us.
The port of Canton, consecrated by tradition as the exchangemart
between foreigners and natives, no longer sufficed for
European ambition, and a clamour was raised to get rid of the
twelve merchants, or hongs, to whom the Chinese Government
had conceded the monopoly of trading with the outer world.
The foreigners, moreover, demanded the right to deal with
whomsoever they pleased, and refused to submit any longer to
the arbitrary taxation and treatment to which they had hitherto
been subjected by the local authorities. These demands and
others of a similar character, which appear to us perfectly
reasonable, were considered exorbitant by the Chinese. To
our incessant protests they answered exactly as they had done
twenty—nay, fifty—years before, that we wished to compel
them to do in their own country exactly as we chose, whereas,
considering that we were their guests, the contrary should be
the case, and that we ought to submit to their ways, however
objectionable they might seem to us, and even contrary to the
interests and development of our commerce. This is precisely
what Europe to-day, as then, refuses to admit, unless the
Chinese very considerably mend their ways, being of opinion
that so vast a country has no right to refuse to allow its
wealth being exploited for the benefit of humanity, and that
if it cannot, either through want of goodwill or of the
necessary means, turn it to account itself, it should allow
others who possess implements perfected for the purpose to
use them. In short, Europe demands the right not only to
trade, but also to exploit, and she intends to have it, whatever
may be the consequences.
This radical difference in looking at the same thing is the
origin of every difficulty that exists between the Powers and
the Celestial Empire. The peoples of the West, once they
230have made up their minds that a thing is likely to further their
interests, insist upon its being carried into effect whether the
Chinese like it or not, and care very little whether they offend
the prejudices or even the sanctity of Chinese tradition. It
is not merely in matters of commercial transactions that
foreigners behave thus, but also with regard to religion. We
profess the most profound admiration and respect for those
men who at the risk of their lives bring the Gospel to those
who know it not, and who sacrifice everything in the hope of
saving souls, and we are thoroughly convinced of the vast
superiority of the teaching of Jesus Christ over that of Confucius.
Christianity, however, upsets not only the traditions,
but also the foundations of Chinese society. No Government
of Europe would tolerate a religion which advocated polygamy,
and that of the United States rigorously opposes the spread of
Mormonism. We must not therefore be surprised if the
Chinese do not behold with a friendly eye a religion which
opposes their great doctrine of the cultus of ancestors, and if
they consider it nothing short of sacrilege and well calculated
to overthrow morality and law, and infinitely worse from their
point of view than polygamy is from ours. The employment
of female missionaries by certain Protestant sects is
another scandal, and the sight of young women living under
the same roof as men who are not their husbands gives rise
in their minds to a train of thought the reverse of edifying.
It matters little that the worship of ancestors is but mere
outward form, and that the lives of the missionaries are without
any reproach: ancient traditions and customs are violated, and
to these the average Chinaman holds far more tenaciously than
he does to the truths they conceal.
The utter disregard paid by Europeans to even the most
cherished customs of the Chinese, and the vast difference
which exists between the two civilizations, together with the
sense of superiority which both peoples with perfect good faith
entertain for themselves, is doubtless at the bottom of that
bitter feeling of contempt that causes every Chinaman to
despise as well as to hate the intruders. They look upon
them as so many barbarians, although Article 51 of the Treaty
of Tien-tsin officially ordained the proscription of the particular
character describing foreigners by this objectionable word.
Our most complicated and wonderful scientific instruments are
not considered by the Chinese as criterions of our superiority,
231and they recognise us to be skilful workmen and clever
jugglers, but otherwise only vulgar and ill-educated fellows,
and our lack of acquaintance with their ancient lore and
literature brings a smile of pity and contempt to their bland
countenances. They attach little or no importance to our
inventions. ‘I quite understand,’ said Prince Kong to a
foreign Ambassador who had just explained to him the theory
and practice of railway travelling, ‘that in Europe you should
employ iron rails to transport you from one end of your
country to another. Here we obtain the same effect with our
waggons. We may not travel so expeditiously; but, then, we
are never in such a hurry.’ This quaint observation was spoken
twenty-five years ago, but it might easily be made to-day: the
condition of mind which inspired it is identical and unchanged.
The Chinese may bow to our power, but it does not inspire
them with the least awe. They entertain for us about the same
agreeable sentiment that the traveller does for the footpad who
suddenly puts a pistol to his head and demands his money or
his life. And as this same ill-used traveller, in order to avoid
a repetition of the assault, if he has to pass that way, procures
the same arms as his aggressor, so the Chinese now and again
appropriate some of our weapons of defence without knowing
how to use them; but, nevertheless, they remain thoroughly
convinced as to the superiority of their civilization. There
can be no doubt that if they were left to themselves, and
European influence and pressure suddenly ceased, the Chinese
would quickly pull up the telegraph-poles and the few miles of
rail which with infinite patience and trouble have been laid,
close their ports, and efface every trace of the detested innovations
of the ‘barbarians.’
This would naturally be the act of the Government. As to
the people, it will continue to use the facilities introduced by
Western civilization. The boats which ply along the coasts
and up the Yang-tsze-Kiang are crowded with native passengers,
who apparently enjoy the trip, and who pay the better share of
the profits made by the various steam navigation companies, and
the trains between Tien-tsin and Peking are always crowded.
The Chinese also know perfectly well how to appreciate
European administration, and three hundred thousand Chinese
live upon the French, English, and American concessions at
Shanghai, two hundred thousand at Hong-Kong, which was
232only inhabited by a few fishermen before the English occupation,
and all the large towns belonging to the European
colonies in the vicinity of China—Vladivostok, Manila, Saigon,
Singapore, Batavia—are practically Chinese towns. They
like to have their property and their commercial interests protected,
and strongly object to being exploited and harassed as
they are under their own Government. At the time of the
occupation of Manchuria by the Mikado’s troops, an English
missionary who had long resided in the country assured me
that the Chinese were very glad to escape from the ‘squeezee’
system, and from the many vexations to which they had been
subjected by the mandarins, and were amazed to see the
Japanese pay for everything they required.
The Chinese are not, therefore, unappreciative of our civilization,
and since we afflict them with our presence, they think it
wise to profit by the material advantages which we have introduced
among them; but, with few exceptions, doubtless they
would prefer the loss of these advantages to our company,
and they never cease to despise us. From the moment that
they can read they go to their old books as to a fountain-head,
whence they drink intoxicating draughts of pride and vanity,
and of profound contempt for all that is not of the wisdom of
Confucius.
After all, it is not by means of the ignorant classes, but
through the initiative of a few thinkers, that progressive ideas
gradually filter into a country and reform it. Unluckily, in
the Chinese Empire, owing to a defective system of education,
the very class which ought to benefit their fellows—the
literati—is precisely that which is the most obstinately retrogressive.
The gross superstitions, too, which are entertained by the
people in the interior of China against foreigners form another
barrier to an advance movement. That the lower classes
should believe that the missionaries pull out the eyes of little
children and use their bowels as the ingredients of infernal
and magical concoctions, or that our doctors spread the pest
whenever we want a war, is not much to be wondered at, for
the same things have been repeated in Astrakhan and in some
of the Russian provinces whenever there has been a rumour of
an epidemic. But what is really very grave is that the literati,
who are so all-powerful in China, foster these superstitions,
and even spread them broadcast among the people in order
233the better to keep up the feeling of hatred which they ought to
attenuate. At the bottom of all the risings against the missionaries
are the mandarins and the literati. The great influence
which these men exercise over the people, and their abhorrence
of Western civilization, is the real cause why no progress has
hitherto been made in the Chinese Empire.
234
The privileges of foreigners in China—The open ports and the concessions—Great
extension of privileges granted to foreigners by the treaty
of Shimonosaki (1895)—Opening of fresh ports—Facilities conceded
to commerce, and the right of establishing factories in the Treaty
Ports—The speedy effects of these concessions—Silk industries—Chinese
workmen: rise in their salaries—Prospects of Chinese
industry—Fresh concessions granted in 1898—Opening of the waterways—Railways
and mines—Great expectations resulting from these
additional treaties—The likins, or native Custom-houses—Their
oppressive exactions—Slow development of foreign commerce in
China—Necessity for Europeans to penetrate into the interior and
take their affairs into their own hands—Chinese resistance to this proposal.
Foreigners who live in China, with the exception of the
missionaries, are at present penned up in the twenty-six open
ports, to which may be added six other towns or markets,
situated on the frontiers of Indo-China, assimilated to the free
ports, but doing a very limited trade. In each of these so-called
open ports[26] spaces have been let on long leases, or
235even sold to foreign Powers—England, France, the United
States and of late years even Germany, who has acquired a
concession at Tien-tsin, where, by the way, Japan also has one.
Although these concessions are on Chinese territory, they are
considered as so many small republics, independent of the
native authorities, and administered by Europeans, who reside
there under the protection of their Consuls, who hold both
judicial and executive powers. In these ports, protected by
European law, is concentrated the whole foreign commerce of
China.
The appearance of these treaty ports varies according to
their importance, from the few houses surrounded by walled-in
gardens, built on the sands of Pakhui to the flourishing cosmopolitan
port of Shanghai, whose aspect is admirably calculated
to flatter the vanity of Europeans. Once the bar of Wusung
is passed, after some hours’ journey down the Blue River, whose
shores are covered with monotonous rice and cotton fields, the
traveller might easily imagine that he was in Lancashire, so
great is the number of factory chimneys that come into sight.
The landing-place, or Bund, the principal thoroughfare of the
town, which follows the quay, is lined on the one side with
trees, and on the other by magnificent houses, built in the
European fashion, the offices of the principal banks, steamship
companies, etc. The other streets, inhabited by Europeans,
although not very straight or broad, run either parallel to
the Bund or else meet it at some point or other. Further
inland is the Chinese quarter (within the concession), with
its open shops, monstrous and gaudy signboards, and its
fragile paper lanterns, fairly well kept, however—thanks to
European supervision—and forming a marked contrast in this
respect to the other native quarter beyond the concession,
which is absolutely filthy. Once outside the town, we cross the
cricket-field, the racecourse, the lawn-tennis court, and reach
Bubbling Well Road and other wide avenues, fringed with the
beautiful villas, surrounded by gardens, belonging to the wealthy
European residents.
Before the Chino-Japanese War foreigners only had the right
236to carry on their commercial undertakings in the open ports,
and had to have a passport in order to travel in the interior.
Isolated as much as possible from the native population, they
could traffic with the Chinese only on the condition that they
never attempted to alter any of the native methods of production,
or introduced any European innovations, or endeavoured
to exploit a single one of the innumerable natural
resources of the country.
On the other hand, nothing was to be expected from private
initiative or from the Government, which latter would unquestionably
have vetoed any improvement, and only reluctantly
permitted, on account of its political value, the creation of
the telegraph-line connecting Peking with the extremities of
the Empire. In 1877 the Europeans had actually to pull up
the rails laid down on the short line between Shanghai and
Wusung, and though the Chinese since 1889 have pretended
to consider the construction of a line from Hankow to Peking,
it has only been with the object of misleading the Europeans.
No progress is possible in China under these unfavourable
conditions, and the antiquated methods of the natives continue
to hamper all commercial and financial prosperity.
The treaty of Shimonosaki, signed in 1895 at the close of
the war between China and Japan, effected some very important
changes in this respect, and in virtue of the most-favoured-nation
clause, inserted in the treaties with the Powers,
opened out a better prospect for foreigners of every nationality,
who were thus able to benefit by the advantages conceded
to the Japanese. Article 6 of this important document
stipulated the opening of several new ports, and permits steam
navigation along the coasts and up the rivers and canals
leading thereunto. It goes on to declare that foreigners
may visit the interior to purchase or sell merchandise, and that
Japanese subjects may establish depots for the same wherever
they like without paying any extra tax, and erect factories of
all sorts in the Chinese open towns and ports, and import
into China all kinds of machinery on payment of a fixed
tariff. Goods manufactured by Japanese subjects on Chinese
territory should be placed on the same footing with respect
to inland and transit duties and other taxes, charges, and
facilities for warehousing, etc., in the interior, as goods imported
into China by other foreigners, and enjoy the same
privileges.
237This clause is of very great importance, since it permits
the combination of highly-perfected European machinery and
cheap Chinese labour in the production of articles the raw
materials for which, especially silks and cotton, can be obtained
in the immediate neighbourhood of the free ports. The clause
above cited may appear at first somewhat extraordinary, and
in any other country but China it would be superfluous to
stipulate that goods manufactured in the country itself should
not be treated with less consideration than similar articles imported.
But the Japanese negotiators understood their men,
and are perfectly aware that if they had not inserted these
special clauses, the advantages obtained would have been annulled
by the Chinese authorities by a system of arbitrary
taxation and other vexatious measures.
No very long time elapsed before the advantages of Article 6
of the Shimonosaki Treaty were made strikingly evident. In
three years’ time an entire district of Shanghai was occupied
by not less than nine large cotton factories, working 290,000
spindles, which in 1898 were increased to 390,000, and close
to them presently rose some thirty silk factories, which, in due
time, will be considerably increased both in numbers and importance.
In the other ports this industrial impulse has not
yet been much felt, except at Tien-tsin, where a woollen factory
has lately been established. In that great centre of industry,
Shanghai, a certain falling-off has been observed in this extreme
briskness, due to over-production, and also to a very
legitimate desire to watch the results of industries already
existing before launching into further speculations. Then,
again, there was a fear that wages might presently rise to an
exaggerated extent.
The labour market of China is undoubtedly enormous, but
the supply does not respond as readily to the demand as in
Europe, because the distances are great and the means of
communication correspondingly few and difficult. However,
the labourers living on the banks of the Yang-tsze, who are
called ‘Water-fowls,’ constantly flock into Shanghai in search of
work. They belong to that class of poor creatures who crowd
the great Chinese cities, and whose only home is their sampang,
in which an entire family accommodates itself in a space that
would barely suffice for a single European. One can see their
floating huts moored alongside the arroyos that furrow the
suburbs of Shanghai. Once they begin to earn a little, they
238build a hut on shore, using up the material of their old boathouse,
until they can erect something better by way of a dwelling.
Salaries are distinctly rising in Shanghai, and when I
was there in 1898 the factories were wrangling over their workmen
and women—who are in the majority—in consequence
of certain enterprising but unscrupulous managers of rival
firms intriguing, by offers of higher wages, to induce the
most skilled to leave their employers and come to them. The
quality of the labour at Shanghai appears to be satisfactory, at
least, so say the different managers, and in the manufactories
which I visited I noticed that everything was scrupulously
clean and orderly, quite as much so as in any average
European or American factory of the same class. The workgirls
do not live, as in Russia and Japan, and, indeed, as they
did formerly in England and in other manufacturing countries,
in a building near the place of business set apart for the
purpose, and at the expense of the firm, but at home with their
own families. Many of them are married women, and a great
number, instead of leaving their little girls over ten years of
age at home, request that they may be employed, so as to
remain under their supervision. They are usually engaged on
very light work, such as shifting the cocoons in the boiling
water for the weavers. In the silk factories I visited they were
allowed half an hour every day for what was known as ‘school,’
during which some senior workwoman—the mother or the
elder sister—taught them the rudiments of their work. This
system is excellent, and the managers declare themselves highly
pleased with it, as it is likely to train good workers.
The working hours at Shanghai in the silk factories are
usually from six in the morning to six in the evening, including
an hour and a half for meals. In the silk manufactories the
little girls earn 1¼d. per day at first, which is increased to 2½d.
after a short time. A clever workwoman gets about 9d. In
1891–92 the wages in the same factory, which was then on a
very small scale and under a Chinese name, were about 30 per
cent. less. In the larger factories the children got 2½d. a day
and the women from 6d. to 7d. During the first few months
that elapsed after the signing of the Treaty of Shimonosaki
salaries were on an average about 5d. As exchange has not
varied much since then, the rise is very considerable. ‘The
women and children now working in the better factories here,’
says the British Consul at Shanghai in his Report, 1897, ‘can
239now earn from 10s. to 30s. a month, which is quite a fortune
for people who in the native factories rarely make more than
4s. a month, although they work hard all day!’ The same
Report observes that in certain branches of industry the
Chinese workwomen earn more than would the same class in
Italy. The under-manager who took me round one of the
Shanghai factories, a Peruvian by birth, and, I fancy, a coloured
man by origin, judging from his curly hair and high cheekbones,
told me that in his boyhood in Peru he had earned 2½d.
a day at the same business, which is what is paid to child-workers
in Shanghai.
It is, therefore, a distinct mistake to imagine that China is
destined to remain the land of low salaries. Some considerable
time may elapse before wages reach the high figure
obtained in Europe, but there is every prospect that in the
course of time a very considerable rise will take place, especially
as industry improves, and the demand for skilled labour increases.
The Celestials are pretty sure to look after their own
interests in the matter by forming trades unions. Strikes are
not unknown either in China or Japan.
These facts tend, I think, to dissipate, if not entirely, at any
rate in part, the illusion about the famous ‘Yellow Peril’ which
has so greatly disturbed certain worthy people. That ‘peril’
seems to me to be still remote, for, even if the people of the
Far East did succeed in producing nearly all the articles which
they now import from Europe, it would necessarily follow that
the trade in them, being infinitely greater than it now is,
would increase their profits likewise very considerably. It is
equally certain that the first effect of the introduction into
China of European industries must lead, as it already has done,
to the bettering of the condition of the Chinese labouring
class, both by augmentation of wages and consequent improvement
in manner of living. If, therefore, European export
trade may apparently suffer from the manufacturing of goods
hitherto imported by the Chinese, such as cottons, for instance,
matters will balance themselves eventually for the simple
reason that, the richer the Chinese get, the more they will buy.
Japan has already shown how the introduction of machinery
has created a new branch of import of great value.
In order to realize these brilliant prospects, several very
drastic alterations in the present position of affairs are
needed. The permission, granted at the instance of Great
240Britain in 1898, allowing European navigation on the inland
waters of China, and the concessions for the creation of
railways and exploitation of mines, may subsequently lead to
very remarkable results, but up to the present they have not
been entirely successful. Industrial activity is still limited to
the free ports and their immediate vicinity. The reasons for
this state of affairs are worth examining, especially as they illustrate
the determined opposition of the Chinese authorities to
all measures of reform, and also indicate many points against
which Europeans should complain.
The Chinese Custom-house duties were determined according
to the treaties as much as possible 5 per cent. ad valorem.
They may therefore be safely described as comparatively light,
and are collected with great regularity for the Imperial Government
on the European system by a staff admirably organized
by Sir Robert Hart.
The undesirability of exposing foreign merchants to the
arbitrary and corrupt methods of Chinese Custom-house
officials led to the formation of an international staff of officers,
which works perfectly and gives universal satisfaction. On the
other hand, the great native firms are most scrupulously honest
in all their transactions, having discovered from experience
that ‘honesty is the best policy,’ and European merchants can
only praise their way of transacting business. It is, therefore,
neither on entering nor leaving China that difficulties occur,
whether for importation or exportation. The trouble arises
in the transport between the open ports and the places of consignment
or expedition; the principal grievance arises through
the system of likin, or of inland Customs, whereby an arbitrary
and variable scale of taxation is exacted on goods passing
through towns or over the frontiers of the various provinces, or
even at certain determined places on the highroads and rivers.
This pernicious system is a great drawback to the expansion of
European trade, and gives rise to endless bother and expense.
‘Let us suppose,’ said a gentleman, thoroughly acquainted
with commerce in the Far East, at a meeting of the London
Chamber of Commerce in 1898, ‘that a train going from
London to Newcastle had to be stopped three or four times on
the way, so that goods might be overhauled and examined by
officials whose main object is to extort as much as they can in
their own interests, and who value goods arbitrarily at sight.
Imagine, for instance, a consignment of skins getting damaged
241by the rain through careless packing, and on being weighed
found heavier than declared in the invoice: the result is, that
the luckless owner is charged, not according to the increased
weight, but fined according to his personal property, say £50
or; £100 on £1,000! Or, finally, what would become of
British trade if we had to put up with likin officials, one of whom
examines goods once in every three days, and another announces
his intention of only doing so when ten trains have arrived?’
There is a remedy for the likin system, and that is a ‘transit
pass’; but more often than not, as with most things in China,
this is merely a theoretical improvement. On payment of a
sum equal to half the original entry duty, all imported goods
should be considered free of inland duty. But this regulation
does not work, and no one avails himself of it, since the
Chinese very ingenuously manage to evade it by charging ‘a
duty on arrival at destination,’ which comes to the same thing.
It is not therefore surprising that, with all these drawbacks,
in addition to a very rudimentary monetary system, Chinese
commerce only attains £50,000,000, of which £27,200,000
represents imports, which is very small when one considers the
enormous size of the country and its great wealth. The half
of this commerce is divided up between four articles:
£8,000,000 cotton and £4,800,000 opium (imported), and
£8,000,000 silk, and £5,000,000 tea (exported). The last
figures are inferior to what they formerly were, Indian tea
having greatly affected Chinese tea as far as England is concerned.
Its preparation still follows the old system, and its
lasting quality is distinctly inferior to Ceylon and other teas
grown in India. This is another example of the vast importance
of introducing into China better and more scientific methods.
The export trade of China must inevitably remain very
limited so long as foreigners are prevented from penetrating
into the country and directing the exploitation of its resources.
Whilst it was a mere matter of opening a few ports, the
Chinese Government made no very serious opposition; but
only the realization of its incapacity to resist pressure induced
it to permit the introduction into the Celestial Empire of
foreign capital, machinery, and industrial methods. Well may
we ask, Can the Sick Man of Peking endure such violent treatment?
Will he not succumb to the very powerful remedies
that are being administered to him, and thereby fulfil the secret
wishes of those who are anxious for his legacy?
242
The Question of the Far East unexpectedly brought to an issue by the
defeat of China—Foreign misconception of Chinese power, and the
amazement of European diplomacy at its collapse—The new state
of affairs created by Japanese victories—The aims of the various
Powers in the Far East and their policy—England seeks an ally against
Russia—Her sudden change of policy in 1895—She abandons China
for Japan—Russia covets the whole of Northern China—Japan’s wish
to conquer the Celestial Empire—The treaty of Shimonosaki—Opposition
of Russia to Japanese policy—Russia becomes the interested
protectress of China—The convention between the three Powers,
France, Germany, and Russia—Attempt to bring about a reconciliation
between China and Japan—Substitution of a powerful Russian
influence for that of England.
The Chinese Question presents many difficulties, not only
because the details are extremely complicated and the rival
pretensions which it has created difficult to reconcile, but
because of the unexpected manner in which it was thrust on
the attention of Europe, at a time when diplomacy had no
ready remedy.
The present position in the Far East is not the result of a
gradual chain of events, but of the absolute surprise created by
the unexpected results of the Chino-Japanese War. No doubt
the collapse of China in 1894 was only the last act in a long
drama of decadence, but it revealed to astonished Europe
the utter incapacity of China either to reform or to defend
herself, a fact for which we were quite unprepared. Japan
alone knew the truth, and profited by her knowledge of her
colossal neighbour’s almost incredible weakness. Russia had
suspected it, but was not sufficiently convinced to venture on
carrying her conviction into effect. Thanks to the astuteness
of the Chinese and their remarkable aptitude in all arts of
243deception, and the effect mentally created by the prodigious
multitude of her population—between three and four hundred
million souls—China had systematically fooled both Governments
and public alike, who shared the same illusion as to her
power. Certain events had, it must be confessed, conspired
to maintain this illusion, notably the bold resistance which
the French army had met in Tongking, under, no doubt,
peculiar circumstances, but, nevertheless, such as induced
people to forget, at least for the time, the facile victories of
the Allies in 1860. Certain far-seeing writers—Mr. Henry
Norman and Mr. Curzon, the latter one of the most brilliant
young statesmen of the United Kingdom—had indeed realized
that under a smooth surface there existed in China amazing
weakness and corruption. But they preached in the desert.
The war had only just broken out, when one of the best-informed
organs of the English press, the Spectator, stated: ‘We
think the weight of opinion is with those who believe, as we
do, that, if necessary, China could organize a most formidable
army.’ This was the illusion universally entertained in Europe,
and, strange to relate, shared by the majority of foreigners living
in the Far East.
By dissipating these illusions and exhibiting to the world the
truth concerning China’s decrepitude, the Japanese victories
produced almost the effect of an earthquake. European diplomacy
had foreseen that the war was likely to give rise to trouble,
and Lord Rosebery even proposed to the Powers at the beginning
of the conflict to come to an understanding with a view of
stopping hostilities; but if the Queen’s Prime Minister feared
that complications in Korea might lead to Russian intervention,
the other Powers were not less unfavourably disposed to
see a naval demonstration in Chinese waters in which England
should take the lead. It was therefore resolved that European
diplomacy should remain inactive and watch proceedings,
everyone believing that Japan would soon be expelled from
Korea, and that both the Japanese and Chinese fleets, weakened
in one or two naval battles, would collapse altogether from
sheer lack of combatants. When, however, the Chinese forces
were annihilated in the autumn of 1894, Europe was taken
aback with amazement, so great was her surprise, not to say
consternation. By the spring of 1895 the Powers had recovered
from the shock they had received, but their policy had consequently
to be changed with respect to a Power which they had
244believed to be formidable, but whose weakness was now revealed.
England, with perhaps excessive frankness, turned her back
on her old ally China. At the beginning of the conference
she had been the champion of the Celestial Empire, and
the newspapers related at the time a curious incident which
happened before Wei-hai-wei, which the Japanese squadron
was about to attack. The British fleet upset their plan by
saluting Admiral Ito, contrary to all precedents, before sunrise,
whereby the sleeping Chinese were warned of their danger.
On more than one occasion the English did not hesitate to
threaten the Japanese, especially after the latter had fired on
a British merchant ship conveying some Chinese troops.[27]
There was no mistaking the peremptory tone of England
when she gave the Japanese to understand that she had no
desire to see the war extend to Shanghai and the region of the
Yang-tsze.
But the battle of the Yalu and the taking of Port Arthur in
one morning by the troops of the Mikado opened the eyes of
the Cabinet of St. James’s. What Britain desired in the Far
East was, on the one hand, a political prop, and even a military
one, if necessary, against the Empire of the Tsar—‘a bolt to
fasten the door against the ambitions of Russian expansion,’
to use the significant expression of Herr von Brandt, and, on
the other, a wide opening for her commerce and capital. Once
convinced that Japan, firmly established in Korea and on the
northern coast of the Gulf of Pe-chi-li, would become a far more
efficacious ‘bolt’ than China, England began to favour the
Japanese, and at the same time to advise the Chinese Government
to abandon Peking, and establish itself nearer the centre
of the Empire. If the Middle Kingdom was no longer a useful
ally, it might still become a splendid prey, a field of extraordinary
economic activity, so that the transfer of the capital to
some point on the banks of the Yang-tsze accessible by sea—to
Nanking, for instance, would have placed China at the mercy
of the supreme mistress of the seas. The English, moreover,
fully intended to force China to open her ports, and their
commercial superiority and the influence which they have
245already established over the peoples in the Far East would
soon have enabled them to profit largely by this revolution.
If, however, the consequences of the Chinese defeat were
realized in London, they were no less so in St. Petersburg, and
subsequent events proved that Russian diplomacy was equal to
the occasion. The Government of the Tsar had beheld the
war with quite as much displeasure as England, and would
have preferred the Far Eastern Question remaining in abeyance
until the termination of the Trans-Siberian Railway. The object
pursued by Russia in the Far East is, it should be remembered,
absolutely opposed to that of England, and concentrates itself
on the one issue—the securing of open sea. The vast Empire
of the Tsars possesses no port in Europe, where the ‘keys of
the house’ are in the hands, so to speak, of other Powers, and
England barred her way to the south fifteen or twenty years ago
in Afghanistan and Beluchistan. In the Far East somewhere
in the middle of the century Russia contrived to descend from
the Polar Sea of Okhotsk and to advance at the expense of
China as far as Vladivostok; but this port remains closed for two
months on account of the ice, and Russia has always considered
her provinces of the Amur and of the Littoral merely in the light
of temporary stations, whence she intended on some future and
favourable occasion to push her way further south. Between
1880 and 1886 it was reported that she was about to obtain
a concession somewhere in the Bay of Korea, or even in the
isle of Quelpart, which is in the strait separating that country
from Japan. A little later she seemed to covet Port Arthur
or Talien-wan, which are free of ice, and are situated at the
extremity of the peninsula of Liao-tung, which would provide
her access to an open sea at the back of Korea and other
advantages. At the narrow entrance to the Gulf of Pe-chi-li
and only 50 miles from the opposite coast of Shan-tung, are
ports which offer great advantages as naval stations, whence a
rapid transport fleet could easily convey troops in twenty-four
hours to Ta-ku, and thence in four days’ march to the Chinese
capital. Once established at Port Arthur, and having plenty
of elbow-room in Pe-chi-li, Russia could exercise over the
Chinese Government, in its present capital, even a more irresistible
pressure than could England have done had she been
able to induce the Imperial Court to transport itself to the banks
of the Yang-tsze.
Unquestionably the dreams of Russian aggrandizement have
246become much more ambitious since she has discovered how very
weak the Sick Man of Peking is. She no longer seeks an open
port on the Pacific, but apparently pursues her object, unostentatiously
however, towards the complete domination of
the Middle Kingdom, especially over her vast dependencies
in Turkestan, Mongolia, and Manchuria—in a word, over the
whole of North China. And as the Muscovite temperament is
ever a dreamy one, who knows but that on the shores of the Neva
the heir of Peter the Great does not already picture himself
on the throne of the Sun of Heaven, commanding the latter’s
multitude of subjects, who are accustomed to submit to a
foreign yoke, and might obey the Tsar as unresistingly as they
did Ghengis Khan, even as to-day they pay homage to a degenerate
Manchu, and as indeed they would have done to the
Mikado, had not Europe put a stop to further advances on the
part of the Japanese? The Mikado, too, who had been driven
into the war by the repeated insolence of the Chinese and also
by the justifiable desire to protect his commercial interests in
Korea, may also, when intoxicated by his surprising successes,
have entertained the thought that it might be possible for him
one day to annex China. If this war had taken place fifty, or
even twenty-five, years ago, when Europe paid less attention to
foreign affairs, it is probable that the Manchu Dynasty would
have been replaced by that of Japan. Possibly then the
‘Yellow Peril’—the military ‘Yellow Peril’—which to-day is
but a mere chimera, might have become a very evident reality.
The Japanese, after having thoroughly reorganized and disciplined
the Chinese army, might at a given moment have let
loose its innumerable hordes upon the Western world; but
if in 1895 they had allowed themselves for a moment to dream
of placing their Emperor upon the throne of Peking, the
Japanese were not allowed to indulge in this pleasant vision
for long, and were soon made to feel how intently and jealously
their movements were watched by European diplomacy.
By the treaty of Shimonosaki, signed April 2, 1895, the
Celestial Empire granted to her conquerors all their demands,
recognising at the same time the independence of Korea, and
allowing Japan, whose troops still occupied that country, a free
hand. If this treaty had been ratified as it was originally
drawn up, Russia would have had to renounce for a long time
to come all hope of possessing an outlet to the open sea, and
would certainly have had to see her influence substituted by
247a rival at Peking, who would have reorganized China possibly
in a hostile spirit. She could not allow this, but she dared
take no initiative by herself, fearing lest she might suddenly
find herself confronted by England and Japan. She,
therefore, before the signature of the treaty of peace, placed
herself in communication with France and Germany, and
endeavoured to make those Powers understand that the installation
of Japan on the coast was as detrimental to their interests
as it was to her own. She successfully converted them to her
way of thinking, and on April 22 the three Powers addressed
a Note to the Mikado, couched in the most courteous terms,
begging of his Majesty to renounce his pretensions over the
peninsula of Liao-tung, the establishment of his authority in
that country being likely to create a permanent danger to the
peace, not only of the Far East, but of the whole world. At
first the Mikado, so it seems, was determined to resist at any
cost, and to refuse to yield. His Government cast an eye
towards England, to see if her support could be counted
upon; but at that time the Cabinet of St. James’s had not
made up its mind whether it would openly espouse the cause
of Japan or not. Possibly it was influenced by the absolutely
anti-Japanese feelings entertained by the vast majority of English
subjects living in the Far East, and it is also by no means improbable
that she did not wish to assist a Power that might
eventually become a dangerous rival to her own commercial
supremacy. Perceiving at last that England would neither join
the three great Powers nor back the Mikado in his pretensions,
the Government of Tokio very wisely consented, at the time
bearing great ill-feeling towards England, who now found herself
isolated in the Far East. Nevertheless, resentment against
Russia was so powerful, and the feeling of alarm entertained by
the two insular Powers at the spectacle of the progress made
by Russia so great, that in a short time a reconciliation was
effected between them.
The intervention of what is known in the Far East as the
New Triple Alliance resulted in consequences quite as grave
and durable as the war itself. Its immediate effects dominated
the politics of the Far East until the end of 1897, and even
now continue to do so. The essential features of the new situation
were the substitution in China of Russian influence, now
become all-powerful, for that of England, the antagonism which
has risen between Russia and Japan, and the friendly feeling
248which now exists between this last Power and England. The
mandarins and the Court of Peking, whilst never ceding an
iota of their pride or their firm belief in the superiority of their
civilization, were, nevertheless, obliged to admit the irremediable
weakness of the military power of the Celestial Empire. If
the majority did not care much for China as their country, they
one and all considered her to be their prey, and consequently
required a protector against the Japanese, and they proceeded
from Legation to Legation in quest of one; as their situation
was desperate, they were obliged to take what they could get,
and, Russia being agreeable, they accepted her friendly offer,
even though their new ally might eventually become a domineering
master. This gave them time, and they counted upon their
cunning, when a favourable opportunity presented itself, to set
the Powers by the ears. Probably at heart they entertain less
dislike for the Muscovite Empire than for any other European
country, and, indeed, China has less friction with the Russians
than with any other nationality. Russia can enter the Celestial
Empire over her land frontier through countries very thinly
populated by inhabitants not of Chinese race, who are not
hostile to strangers; whereas the other Europeans coming by
sea are brought into immediate contact with the turbulent
crowds of the seaport towns, where the least act of imprudence
may give rise to grave incidents. Moreover, the subjects of
the Tsar exhibit a greater degree of forbearance than the
peoples of the West. They do not experience that innate
contempt for men of colour, they are more tractable to the
habits of the countries in which they establish themselves, and
are not so forward in protesting against petty annoyances. The
Orthodox Church, too, scrupulously abstains from all propaganda
in China, and the Russian Legation is therefore spared
those delicate questions concerning the rights and the wrongs
of missionaries which so greatly irritate the Chinese. All this
facilitates the substitution of Russian influence for that of the
English.
We must, however, seek for the causes which induced France
and Germany to enter, under the Russian auspices, into an unexpected
alliance outside the question of the Far East. The
harmony that exists between these two Powers is due to their
desire to gain the good graces of the Tsar. Rivals in endeavouring
to please him, they both answered all proposals
which came from St. Petersburg favourably. Germany had no
249political interests in the East of Asia, and France only those
of secondary importance connected with Indo-China, and therefore
these nations never hesitated to regulate their line of
conduct in the Far East in accordance with their political
aspirations in Europe, and, the better to please Russia, forthwith
modified their previously somewhat hostile attitude. During
the war both Powers had been more or less favourable to
Japan.
This change of conduct involved a considerable sacrifice,
especially in the case of France, and signified the rupture of
her old friendship for Japan, whose army had been formed by
a French military mission, and whose battleships and arsenals
had been in great part constructed and organized by Frenchmen,
services which the Japanese recognised shortly after the
victory of the Yalu by sending to the eminent naval engineer,
M. Bertin, the grand cordon of the Order of the Rising Sun.
France had not obtained great advantages from this friendship,
but if she did not do so, it was more or less because she did not
wish it, for it is certain that the alliance of the Mikado was
offered to her in 1884 on the condition that she conveyed to the
coasts of Pe-chi-li a Japanese army corps, intended to march
on to Peking. France had also the right to expect after the war
some commercial advantages, notably some important commercial
orders to her great industrial firms, for the renovating
of the fleet, much damaged by the war. By placing herself on
the side of China, whose friendship might have been useful,
the more so as she was a neighbour, although she was constantly
wrangling with her, France gave up an alliance with
the one country in the Far East which represents progress and
has a future, and, what is more, she literally pushed her into
the arms of England, who may one day make use of her
against the French.
The sacrifices made by Germany were less important, for she
could not expect in the Far East any considerable advantages.
To begin with, she had seized the opportunity to play a political
part on a stage where she had never appeared before, but
being much more commercial than France, she had more to
gain from the concessions which China would be obliged to
make, and she could thus include this vast market in the
sphere of her industrial activity and commercial enterprise.
By mixing in the affairs of the Far East the youthful German
Empire only obeyed the instinct of foreign expansion which
250obliges her to watch over her political and commercial interests
in all parts of the world.
On the other hand, the action of the three Continental
Powers presented considerable danger, aggravated as it was by
the warlike intentions of the commanders of the Russian fleet.
A rumour certainly existed in 1896 in the Far East, and, moreover,
has since been confirmed to me by most credible witnesses,
that between April 25, the day on which the Note of the three
Powers was presented, and May 5th, the date on which the
representatives of Japan announced their acquiescence, Admiral
Tyrtof, who commanded the Russian fleet and who has since
become Minister of Marine, invited Admiral de la Bonninière
de Beaumont to proceed with him to meet the Japanese fleet
at the risk of provoking a collision, in which the latter would
inevitably have been crushed. The presence of mind of the
French Admiral, who evaded the invitation by protesting that
he had received no instructions from his Government, and
therefore delayed matters as long as possible, prevented an
aggression which might have resulted in dreadful consequences,
and led to a massacre in Japan itself of Russian and French
residents, and, moreover, might have brought about extremely
grave international complications. Who knows, too, but that
public opinion in England might have been offended by such
an act, and that on the morrow of an easy victory over the
Japanese the Allies might have found themselves face to face
with the British fleet?
It is certain that by taking sides with Russia in a question of
only secondary interest to herself France incurred the grave
risk of a war not only with Japan, but with England, a war
in which her stake was far greater than that of Russia or of
Germany, and the consequences of which she would have been
obliged to bear alone. Fortunately, the prudence of Admiral
de Beaumont smoothed over the angry feeling of the Russian
commanders, which, however, manifested itself once more on
May 8, 1895, the date on which the ratifications of the treaty
of peace between China and Japan were to have been exchanged.
On that day the Russian fleet was stationed in the
roads off the Chinese port of Chefoo, at the entrance to the
Gulf of Pe-chi-li, opposite Port Arthur, where the exchange of
ratifications was to have occurred, ready for fight in case Japan
refused her acceptance, in which case it was agreed between
the admirals to oppose the Japanese near Ta-ku, at the mouth
251of the Pei-ho, close to Wei-hai-Wei, where their fleet was
anchored. Alongside of the Russian fleet were two German
cruisers, representing the German navy in the Far East; but
Admiral de Beaumont steamed away, leaving only at Wei-hai-Wei
the Forfait, thereby showing very clearly that he had no
intention of taking part in a superfluous demonstration, which
would only have resulted in increasing the irritation of Japan
against the three Powers.
These warlike demonstrations presented a singular contrast
to the extremely courteous tone of the Notes presented to Japan
by the Russian, French, and German ministers. They had the
effect of convincing Japan that she had in the future to count
with the lasting hostility of the Tsar, and that the secret desire
of the Government of St. Petersburg was not only to prevent
her establishing herself on the Asiatic Continent, but also
eventually to completely annihilate her. By a curious right-about-face,
Japan now turned towards China, who received her
overtures favourably. The fact was that at Peking the pretensions
of Russia had created great alarm, and Li Hung-chang
opened his heart to the Japanese Consul at Tien-tsin, and
begged the Cabinet of Tokio to give a conciliatory answer with
respect to the question of Liao-tung, and solve it in a friendly
manner, and thereby avoid increasing the responsibilities which
weighed upon his shoulders. The Chinese Government, he
added, was entirely at the mercy of the Russians, and could only
be saved by Japan.
Was this intended on the part of the old diplomatist as a disguised
offer of service? It is impossible to say. One thing
only is certain—the Tsung-li-Yamen proposed that the Japanese
minister, M. Hayashi, should negotiate directly, and offer as a
compensation for Liao-tung not an indemnity, but an alliance
with China and a concession for the railway to be built between
Tien-tsin and Peking. The Government of the Mikado was
inclined to accept this solution, but the three Continental
Powers—that is to say, Russia—did not view the matter favourably.
They wished, for better security—that Japan should not
be bound to China only, but that the retrocession of Liao-tung
should not be subjected to clauses calculated to prolong
matters, and, above all, a cessation of the continuance of the
Japanese occupation of Korea. They therefore insisted that
the matter should be settled at once by the payment of a supplementary
indemnity of 30,000,000 taels, or £4,500,000,
252payable on November 18th, 1895, the Japanese evacuation to
take place within three months.
Japan was obliged to accept these propositions by an
exchange of Notes signed on the 19th October, and she, moreover,
agreed to withdraw her troops from Korea immediately.
The attempt at a reconciliation and an alliance with the
Celestial Empire had failed; but since then the language of
the Japanese press and of many of her statesmen proves that
at Tokio this idea has not been entirely abandoned, and if
they have not been able to confiscate China to the advantage
of the Mikado, the Japanese wish to see her placed in a position
to resist the pressure of other Powers and to exist by her own
resources. On the payment of the indemnity, Japan endeavoured
to obtain from China a formal promise that she would never
cede to any other Power the territories which she had been
obliged to restore. But Russian influence was already too
firmly established, and the promise was refused. The new
political line of conduct which the European Powers and
those which had at first come to her assistance were about to
follow with respect to China was now openly developed. If
the Setting Sun had more worshippers now than the Rising
Sun, it is assuredly not the result of any sentiment of
chivalrous disinterestedness—quite the contrary.
253
The immediate results of the war—Issue of an important Chinese loan—Russia
becomes guarantee for China, and in return obtains the right
to construct the Manchurian Railway—Ability of Russian diplomacy
in Korea—Faults and abuses of the Japanese in that country—Revolution
in the Korean palace at Seoul—The King of Korea under the
protection of Russia—Preponderance of Muscovite influences in the
Far East at the beginning of 1897—Important advantages obtained by
the Tsar’s allies—Apparent disinterestedness of Germany—Treaty
with France signed on June 20th, 1895—Energy of the French
Minister—French protectorate over the Catholics of the East—Efforts
made by England in 1896 to regain her influence at Peking—Anglo-Chinese
Convention, February 4th, 1897—Opening of the West River
to European navigation—A few fresh concessions granted to France in
1897.
In the events which have transpired in the Far East since the
War, and which have led to the present situation, two distinct
phases mark the violent aggression of Kiao-chau. The first
extends from the spring of 1895 to the autumn of 1897, and is
that in which the Powers, after having come to China’s
assistance, obtained from her concessions in return for their
good offices, whilst pretending moderation in their demands.
Altogether, the most important consequence of the War was
the establishment of a heavy foreign debt. Hitherto China
had only contracted in Europe insignificant loans of a few
millions of francs. During hostilities her foreign indebtedness
rose to £7,000,000, a mere trifle, and, moreover, the lenders
were in possession of excellent security; but the War
Indemnity and other urgent expenses necessary for the rehabilitation
of the country mounted up to £48,000,000, so
that now the interest on this debt, taking the rate at 5 per
cent., would absorb £2,400,000, and, by adding the arrears
254of already existing loans, this figure would attain about
£2,800,000, equivalent to nearly the whole of the Customs
revenue. The Customs duties are paid in silver, but it would
be absolutely necessary to stipulate, if a considerable loan is to
be floated on the European market, that the interest should be
paid in gold. The question, therefore, very naturally arises
whether, in view of so small a margin, the fluctuations in the
value of silver, which have already caused the hai-kwan taël to
fall from 6s. 7d., its value a quarter of a century ago, to 2s. 10d.,
the average rate since 1897, will not sooner or later result in
the Customs receipts proving insufficient to cover the payment
of the arrears. Nobody in his senses would dream of lending
money to China on the mere security of her general resources,
and she would, consequently, be obliged to assign to her
creditors new securities, and place in their hands the administration
of new branches of revenue. On the other hand,
stripped of about £2,800,000 from the total revenue, which
the most optimistic estimate gives at £24,000,000, she would
have to look for new channels to add to her income, either
by increasing the taxes, or by permitting foreigners to exploit
the resources of the country, conceding to them railway and
mining concessions on the basis of leases or joint profits.
The first proposal ran the risk of unpopularity; the second
was more tempting, but it meant the introduction into the
country of that very Western civilization which the Chinese
Government had opposed with all its might for the last fifty
years.
The monetary difficulties of the Celestial Empire brought
about a renewed interference by Europeans in her affairs, if
only in the collecting of the taxes, and, also, a sort of financial
embargo, the dangers of which are sufficiently manifest in
countries like Egypt. The Government of Peking was well
aware of this, and, therefore, spared no effort in obtaining a
reduction on the £34,500,000 War Indemnity, and even attempted
to arrive at an understanding with Japan respecting the
retrocession of Liao-tung without supplementary disbursement.
The great importance of this money question was nowhere
better understood than at St. Petersburg, and one cannot help
admiring the boldness and ability of the policy pursued by
Russia. That countries like France and England, literally
overflowing with money, should have ventured to secure a
preponderating position in China by means of financial
255manœuvrings is not at all to be wondered at; but that Russia,
already heavily indebted with a public foreign debt amounting
to over £240,000,000, should have been shrewd enough
to subject China to a sort of vassalage, through the pecuniary
services she rendered her, was indeed a masterly achievement.
M. de Witte, the Tsar’s Minister of Finance, who devised
this remarkable scheme and conducted it to a triumphant
issue over the head of the Minister for Foreign Affairs,
exhibited throughout the rarest political ability and foresight
combined with business acumen. Russia was unable to lend
China money, but she was willing to become her guarantor,
and thus enable the Celestial Empire, backed by the
principal banks of Paris, where Russian funds were at their
height, to float a loan of £16,000,000 at 4 per cent. issued
at ninety-four—that is to say, at the same issue price at which,
before this security was granted, the French and German
financial houses had offered to raise a loan at 5 per cent.
The annual interest to be paid by China, thanks to Russian
intervention, was thus reduced by a fifth, whereby the Celestials,
although they obtained a bargain, at the same time committed
a grave political error.
In accepting a foreign Power as guarantor, the Chinese
Government rendered itself responsible to that Power only,
and placed her financial and, above all, her political independence
in far greater peril than she could have done had
she negotiated directly with individual capitalists of various
nationalities, whose pressure, in case of non-payment, would
have been considerably weakened by the inevitable differences
which would subsist between their Governments. This danger
seems to have been thoroughly understood at Peking, where
the necessary documents were not signed until the expiration
of the last day’s delay granted by Russia, and then only under
extreme pressure, because the Chinese Government had
evidently failed to find assistance elsewhere.
The Government of St. Petersburg, well pleased with this
success, proceeded to strengthen its policy in China by further
financial operations, and with the assistance of the Bank of
Russia next created the Russo-Chinese Bank, Parisian financiers
supplying the greater part of the capital, but leaving the direction
of affairs almost exclusively in Russian hands. The
Comptoir d’Escompte transferred its agencies in China to
Russia, and the new bank established at the same time branches
256at Peking, Tien-tsin, Shanghai, and Hankow. Since then this
bank has continued to be the principal agent of Russian influence
in China, and undoubtedly it was at first almost entirely
through its mediation that Russia negotiated the concession of
the East Chinese Railway, which enabled her to continue her
Trans-Siberian Railway southward through Manchuria, thus
shortening the original line by several hundred miles, and
enabling it to pass within 350 miles of the Gulf of Pe-chi-li.
Russia, moreover, obtained the authorization to protect the
works by her own troops, whereby she made herself mistress of
Manchuria, whence she was able to dominate Peking until
events allowed her to occupy Liao-tung.
Whilst she was amply paid for her services by China, Russia
made herself no less active in Korea. The Japanese, who had
occupied that country, perpetrated error on error. They had
attempted to impose upon the Koreans with great abruptness
the most varied and radical reforms. Many of these were
possibly useful enough, but they ought to have been introduced
with discretion; others were unnecessary, and greatly irritated
the people by wounding their most cherished customs and
traditions. The Koreans, although not particularly clean in
their habits, are invariably clad in white, are, moreover, addicted
to smoking very long pipes, and to rolling their hair up into a
huge chignon, which they surmount by an enormously broad-brimmed
hat, whose crown is so small that they are obliged to
fasten it to their heads by a long string. The Mikado issued a
sumptuary law against long pipes, chignons, and wide-brimmed
hats, and, moreover, ordered that the traditional white robe
should henceforth be replaced by the dark-blue one usually
worn by the Japanese. It is said that this unfortunate incident
was the result of a conviction that Koreans, being obliged to
hold their pipe with one hand, and to balance their enormous
hats with the other, could never become hard workers. Be
this as it may, the Japanese sentinels at the gates of Seoul
made life unendurable to the unfortunate Koreans. Armed
with a big pair of scissors, they pounced upon the unfortunate
peasants as they entered the town on their way to market, and
cut not only the strings of their monumental hats, but severed
their beloved chignons, and shortened by at least three-quarters
of their length the stems of their pipes—arbitrary measures
well calculated to break their hearts with mortification and
vexation of spirit. It is not to be wondered at that such
257impolitic conduct, added to occasional acts of violence, soon
roused the indignation and hatred of the natives, otherwise a
very inoffensive and peaceable people. On October 7, 1895,
the Korean Queen was murdered in her palace by assassins
in the pay of the Japanese, and with the complicity of the
Legation. King Li-Hsi, a very poor creature at the best,
whose reign has been one tissue of Court intrigue and palace
revolution, after the assassination of the Queen, fell into a consternation
of abject terror, completely abdicating his regal
authority, and became so degraded that he even consented to
sign an edict insulting the memory of the late Queen, and
accusing her of shameful crimes. Innocent persons were now
executed at Seoul as guilty of the murder, whereas the actual
assassins were acquitted by a self-constituted Japanese tribunal.
In the meantime Russia very ably exploited the general
discontent, and in an underhand manner offered her services
to the timid King, who was not only terribly afraid of the
Japanese, but also of his father, the Tai-wen-kun, a ferocious
old gentleman, whose ambition had disturbed Korea for over
twenty years, and who had been raised to power by the natives.
His Majesty seemed disposed to accept the Russian proposal,
but dared not leave his palace, in which he was kept a close
prisoner. A riot ensued, whether spontaneous or provoked
has never been divulged, which, on the night of February 11,
1896, offered him a chance of escape. The Tai-wen-kun was
killed, and Li-Hsi obtained shelter at the Russian Legation,
then guarded by a detachment of sailors fresh landed at
Chemulpo, the port of Seoul, without any attempt on the part
of the Japanese to prevent them. Li-Hsi, once safe in the house
of the Russian Minister, where all the members of the Korean
Government had found shelter, acted like a King in a comic
opera, and became the plaything of Russia, precisely as he had
recently been of Japan. He forthwith revoked all the reforming
edicts he had previously signed, and annulled the decree
degrading the memory of the unfortunate Queen, the trial
of whose assassins took place in a High Court presided over
by judges selected from various European nationalities, with
the result that the responsibility for her murder was thrown on
the Japanese.
The reactionary movement now became violent, and many
useful reforms had perforce to disappear. A committee, composed
of the highest native functionaries, the British Controller
258of Customs, and a few Americans, was appointed to study
measures of reform, but they only met two or three times, and
nothing came of it, so that in a few months all the old abuses
reappeared. Nevertheless, by her sagacious conduct, Russia
had the ability to win over the foreign representatives in Korea
to her side, and Japan, in order to preserve the remnant of her
influence in a country whose commerce was mainly in her
hands, and where not less than 10,000 of her subjects resided,
was now obliged to arrive at an understanding with Russia.
The Convention of Seoul, signed May 14th, 1896, by the
representatives of the two Powers, completed by that of July
29th, concluded at Moscow at the time of the coronation of
Nicholas II., and drawn up by Prince Lobanof and Marshal
Yamagata, accorded Japan merely the right to keep 1,000
troops in Korea for the protection of the Japanese telegraph
wires between Fusan and Seoul and of her subjects settled in
the capital and in the open ports of Fusan and Gensan. Russia
also obtained the same rights, and, moreover, a concession
to construct a telegraphic line from Seoul to the Siberian
frontier.
The two Powers further agreed to lend the Korean Government
their support for the reorganization of its finances and a
sufficient police force to maintain order, and to permit, as soon
as possible, of the withdrawal of their garrisons. In appearance
it was a sort of Russo-Japanese condominium that was
established in Korea; but Russian influence, now all-powerful
with the King, met with no further obstacle after the restoration
of that Sovereign to his palace in February, 1897. A
decree, ordering that all railways to be constructed in Korea
should have the same gauge as that of the Trans-Siberian
Railway, and that the debt of £300,000 contracted by Korea
with Japan should be repaid, and, moreover, that none but
Russian instructors should be engaged in reorganizing the
Korean army, was also issued, which Japan considered a
distinct breach of the Treaty of Moscow.
Russian influence was therefore, at the beginning of the
year 1897, absolutely preponderant in Korea as well as in
China. In both countries the Tsar’s Government had played,
with extraordinary ability, the part of protector of the conquered
against the abuses of the conqueror, and also that of a
redresser of wrongs, whereby it won universal approbation
throughout the Far East. The Japanese victories now appeared
259only to have been obtained for the benefit of Russia, who
substituted herself everywhere for Japan, in Manchuria as well
as in Korea, and thus profited very considerably by the War
without having to pay any of its expenses. If at its close
Russia had the discretion to perceive the advantages which
she might derive from intervention, and if she acted with
energy and decision, she also knew how to curb the impetuosity
of her admirals, who were eager to commit those
very faults into which Japan had fallen, which undoubtedly
would have brought about very serious European complications.
She therefore at first abstained from annexing the
peninsula of Liao-tung and the important stations of Port
Arthur and Talien-wan, which she had compelled the Japanese
to evacuate, and officially she made no annexations in Korea;
but, possessing the right to construct a railway through Central
Manchuria and to protect its works by her own troops, and
being at one and the same time mistress of the situation
at Seoul, Russia was able at the right moment to annex
either Korea or Liao-tung, and bring the Trans-Siberian to the
open sea through one or the other of these two peninsulas.
She hesitated as to which she should select; the first was
nearer Peking, the second brought her more directly to the
Pacific, whence she could menace simultaneously the mouth
of the Yang-tsze and the South-east of Japan. At St Petersburg,
however, it seemed that the Government was waiting for
the completion of the Trans-Siberian Railway, which was proceeding
in hot haste, and which it was expected would reach
the Amur in the first months of 1900, ere the psychological
moment should arrive to strike a decisive blow.
Side by side with immense advantages acquired by Russia,
those obtained by her allies seemed insignificant. Germany
had not shown herself exacting; all she asked was a few acres
of land at Tien-tsin and other naval ports where she might
establish independent concessions intended to satisfy her sense
of dignity. The absence of special concessions had not
hitherto prevented Germany from achieving an extraordinary
commercial success in China, but the future will prove that the
German Empire entertains great designs in the Far East, the
realization of which are merely postponed.
As to France, she got in return for her services the two
Conventions signed at Peking by her Minister, M. Gérard, on
June 20th, 1895. The first of these documents accords divers
260facilities to the extension of her commerce on the frontier
between China and Indo-China; the second ratifies, to her
advantage, the frontier limits. A new market—Semao, in the
Yunnan—was now added to the towns of Mong-Tze and Lung-Chau, opened to Franco-Annamite commerce in 1887. The
customs on goods entering or leaving these markets and
passing through Tongking, already reduced to three-quarters
of the maritime Custom-house tariff of 1887, were again lowered
to about two-fifths of the general tariff, so far as concerned
products exported from any other Chinese port, or intended to
be re-imported into any one of these said ports. In Article 5
of this Convention the following passage occurs: ‘It is understood
that China, in the exploitation of mines situated in the
provinces of Yunnan, Kuang-si, and Kuang-Tung, may apply,
in the first place, to French merchants and engineers, the exploitation
remaining subject to the rules laid down by the
Imperial Government in all that concerns national industry.
It is agreed that the railways already existing, or to be constructed
in Annam, may, after a mutual understanding, be
extended on Chinese territory.’ Finally, it was further stipulated
that the French and Chinese telegraph lines should be
combined. The Convention respecting the frontier definitely
extended the French possessions to the eastern shore of the
upper Mekong, thereby giving France the territory situated on
the border of the Shan State of Xieng-hong. England in 1894
had admitted the right of suzerainty of China over this little
principality, as well as over one or two others, thereby creating
a sort of neutral zone between her Indian Empire and French
Indo-China.
A great deal was made over this Convention in France, and
the energetic manner in which the French Minister at Peking
had been able to obtain these concessions under the very nose
of his English colleague, Sir Nicholas O’Connor. The negotiations
closed, M. Gérard proceeded to the Tsung-li-Yamen
on the day arranged for the exchange of signatures, to find,
however, only one of the two Chinese plenipotentiaries present.
This personage offered profuse apologies for the non-appearance
of his colleague. ‘Nothing should have prevented his
being here,’ replied the French diplomatist. ‘I pray you find
him at once and tell him so.’ A few moments afterwards the
second Celestial appeared alone, looking very sheepish. ‘And
your colleague, is he coming back?’ asked M. Gérard. ‘No;
261I am afraid he is detained, and that he cannot return. Shall I
go and fetch him?’ ‘I beg your pardon,’ M. Gérard shrewdly
replied; ‘I will keep you here, and will go myself in quest of
your friend.’ At the end of an hour or so the two Celestials
were finally brought together, and on being asked to explain
their dilatory conduct, stated that the British Minister was
in the next room, threatening, if they ventured to sign, forthwith
to haul down his flag. M. Gérard was soon able to
convince the Celestial plenipotentiaries that they had nothing
to fear, but that they must immediately affix their signatures to
the document. Sir Nicholas O’Connor, he assured them, once
he was convinced of the futility of his intimidation, would soon
turn his attention to other affairs. This anecdote, whilst it
reflects great credit on the energy of the French Minister, and
displays his knowledge of the Chinese character to advantage,
emphasizes the declining influence of England in China in
1895 and 1896, as well as the annoyance experienced by this
Power at the ratification of the French frontier and its extension
towards Mekong. By confirming it, China violated, it is true,
the engagements she had made when England recognised her
position at Xieng-hong, but this did not concern France, for
the State in question was as much the vassal of Annam or of
Siam as it is of Burmah or of China.
What was the real value of the commercial concessions
granted to France by China, and concerning which her press
had made such capital? The reduction of the duties on all
products passing by Tongking would have been of great value
if the neighbouring Chinese province had been a rich one, but
it is, unfortunately, quite the reverse. It is now time to glance
over the region that can be provisioned and exploited through
Tongking. It includes the greater part of Yunnan and
Kwang-si, the southern half of Kwei-chau, and a small part of
Kwang-tung, that long and narrow band of territory which this
province projects over the Tongking frontier between the sea
and Kuang-si. The Yunnan, the Kwang-si, and the Kwei-chau
are the three poorest provinces of China, and cover a fifth of
her territory, whilst possessing barely the fifteenth of her population,
or, in other words, about 24,000,000 out of 380,000,000.
They have been unfortunately devastated by the great insurrection
of the Taipings and the Mohammedan revolts, especially
Yunnan; the country is really only a conglomeration of
mountains and plateaux, some of them 6,500 feet in height, and,
262moreover, the communications are very scanty, and it would
cost an enormous sum to improve them. The report of the
Lyons Mission, which explored this part of China in 1895–97,
frequently mentions the great difficulties of transport and the
steepness of the ascents, such, for instance, as the famous
Imperial road of Ten Thousand Steps, which you ascend from
the bank of the Red River to the Yunnan plateau, between
Manhao and Mong-tze, and which in a distance of only 30
miles rises from 485 to more than 6,500 feet. It also mentions
the paucity of population, as contrasted with its superabundance,
in the basin of the Yang-tsze-Kiang and the coast provinces.
In the Far East the mountains are almost invariably barren,
even when there is very little cultivable soil in the plain
below. It is said that the Yunnan is extremely rich in mineral
ore, but, as once remarked an acute observer, who has recently
visited nearly the whole of China, when explorers find nothing
worth noticing on the surface of a country, they generally arrive
at the conclusion that there must be something worth looking
for underneath. Undoubtedly both copper and tin have been
exploited for years past in Yunnan, but thus far the actual
wealth of these mines is unknown, and it would be mere matter
of conjecture to affirm whether they are worth working or not,
or whether it would pay to construct a railway 300 miles in
length to transport the ore, as these Chinese provinces on
the frontier neighbouring Tongking produce neither silk, tea,
nor any other valuable Chinese export product, and do not
offer a particularly brilliant prospect at present. As to Article 5,
relating to mines, if taken in the literal sense, it is simply a
truism, but if one wishes to discover in it a disguised engagement,
and read ‘ought’ instead of ‘may,’ it is a violation of the
clause granted to the most favoured nation inserted in all
Chinese treaties with European Powers. France had soon to
recognise its futility on January 15th, 1896, at the time of the
signing of the Anglo-French treaty relating to the affairs of
Siam, by which, it is true, she profited little by the difficult
circumstances in which Great Britain then found herself, and
the two Governments of Paris and London agreed that all the
rights and privileges acquired, or to be acquired, either in the
Yunnan or more to the north at Sze-chuan, were to be equally
shared.
The profit which France might have obtained from the convention
of June 20th, 1895, was thus reduced to little or
263nothing. During the following year the negotiations which
were being persistently pursued at Peking brought about other
results. The right to reconstruct the arsenal at Foochow
established by the French in 1866, and which they destroyed
in 1884 under Admiral Courbet, was again restored to them.
Several naval engineers are working there at present, and French
foundries are supplying material. Such has been the share
derived by France in the concessions made by China, to obtain
which the nations made such flattering advances to Li Hung-chang
when that astute old gentleman made his recent famous
tour through Europe and America. It certainly compensated
after a fashion for the loss of the custom of Japan, who at one
time gave frequent orders to French factories, but who now
deals exclusively with England and America for the ships and
cannon necessary for her greatly augmented fleet.
Meanwhile, the French Minister at Peking has exerted
himself in a creditable manner for the benefit of the Catholic
missionaries. He has obtained the abrogation of those regulations
which prohibited missionaries from purchasing estates
in the interior of China, and exacted a promise that the next
edition of the Ta-tsing-lu-lieh, a collection of laws issued by the
Tsing Dynasty, should appear without the list of punishments
against missionaries contained in the edition of 1892. Finally,
he obtained authorization for the Lazarists to rebuild on the
same spot the cathedral at Tien-tsin, burnt at the time of the
massacre of the missionaries and nuns during the insurrection
of June, 1870.
It is assuredly as the protectress of Catholicism that France
has of late years most worthily played her part in the Far East.
Possibly she has not known how to convert to her material
advantage the influence which ought to be derived in China
from her religious position, and doubtless French policy in the
Celestial Empire has been lacking in enterprise. She certainly
did not derive from the intervention in favour of China a
profit proportionate to the risks incurred, and has obtained
from China not only less than her ally, Russia, but even
than England, and by uselessly opposing the demands of
this latter Power she has run the risk of irritating without any
benefit that ill-feeling which divides these two great Western
nations.
After a period of inaction during the year which followed the
War, the British Government, if it has not positively reconquered
264its former influence, has at least gained a renewed hearing at
Peking. Although China trembled before Russia, the presence
in her waters of the British fleet did not fail to inspire her with
a feeling of profound respect; but, once the first moment of
alarm was over, she again bethought herself as much as possible
to begin afresh her old game of pendulum between the various
Powers. The slow work of British diplomacy throughout the
year 1896 fructified in the signing of the Anglo-Chinese Convention
of February 4th, 1897, by which China conceded to
Great Britain certain important modifications on the Burmese
frontier; granted her back a part of the Shan States; recognised
her right to establish a Consul somewhere in Western
Yunnan, Manwyne, or Chunning-fu; engaged to open the
roads leading to these places as well as to others; and finally
allowed the railways to be constructed in Yunnan to be united
with those of Burmah. Lastly—and this is the most important
point of all—a separate article prescribed that the Si-Kiang, or
West River, which flows through Canton, should be open to
European navigation as far as Woochow, on the Kwang-si and
Kwang-tung frontier, 125 miles from Canton. The two river
ports Samshui and Wuchow became treaty ports, and European
concessions were established there.
This was for England some return for the mortification she
had experienced twenty months earlier at the time of the
Gérard Convention. If, therefore, in Yunnan, in spite of the
equality of rights existing between Great Britain and France,
the advantage was with the latter, by reason of the natural
conditions rendering access less difficult from Tongking than
from Burmah, the opening of the West River was a check
for French policy, which had vigorously opposed it. By
this waterway European vessels—that is to say, almost exclusively
British steamers coming from Hong-Kong—would, in
the first place, be able to trade with the rich valley of the
lower Si-kiang, which crosses Kwang-tung, and reascends to
the frontier of Kwang-tung, where they would meet the junks
which bring to this point at a small cost the varied products
of this province, and, moreover, distribute merchandise from
Hong-Kong to the extreme navigable points of the West
River and its affluents. These points are situated at a great
distance in the interior, almost on the frontiers of Yunnan and
Tongking, and at Lung-chau, thirty miles from Lang-son, one
can see at high tide junks from Canton. Therefore all the
265commerce of Kwang-si which France had so coveted was to be
drained by this new channel.
French diplomacy endeavoured to repair the unfavourable
impression produced by this Anglo-Chinese treaty, which
effaced the greater part of the advantages conceded to her on
the frontier of Tongking, and in June, 1897, it was stated in
Paris that China had ceded to France the right to construct a
railway from Lao-kai, on the Red River, between Tongking
and Yunnan-hsien, the capital of Yunnan, and to prolong it
to Nanning-fu and even northward beyond the line projected
to Lang-son and Lung-chau. This last concession should
reserve for France all the traffic of the western Kwang-si, provided
that it is really worth while constructing a railway to
obtain it; for unquestionably navigable rivers have a distinct
advantage over railways in so mountainous and poor a country.
As soon as the former are opened they can be navigated,
whereas it will require time to construct the railways, which,
moreover, are very costly. In February, 1898, I was able to
see for myself that the Si-kiang was already traversed by
steamers, whereas the railway from Lang-son to Lung-chau, the
concession for which was given in 1896, was not even commenced,
on account of the many difficulties that had arisen
with the local authorities. The opening in 1899 of Nanning
to foreign commerce is well calculated to deprive France even
of this little traffic, which will revert to Canton.
266
Political calm in the Far East during the summer of 1897—Provisionary
regulation of the questions that divided the Powers, and the maintenance
of old Chinese methods—Landing of the Germans at Kiao-Chau
in Shan-tung in 1897—England’s anger at this act, and her efforts to
avert the probable action of Russia in Pe-chi-li—Anglo-Chinese Convention
of February, 1898—Opening of all the waterways to European
navigation—The policy of the ‘open door’—China recognises in
March, 1898, the occupation of Kiao-chau and concession of the railway
granted to Germany in Shan-tung—Session to Russia on lease of
Port Arthur, and the immediate occupation of this port—Franco-Chinese
Convention, April, 1898—Divers conventions granted in the
Southern Provinces and session of the Bay of Kwang-chau-wan—Irritation
of Great Britain, who obtains new and important advantages
in June, 1898—Session of Wei-hai-wei at the entrance of the province
of Pe-chi-li, and of Kowloon, opposite Hong-Kong—Fresh Anglo-Russian
difficulties in November, 1898—Railway and other concessions
granted to foreigners throughout the Celestial Empire.
After the diplomatic wrangling which followed the war, a lull
occurred in the summer of 1897 in the Far East. Each of
the European Powers interested in China—Russia, France,
and England—had obtained her share of the spoil. That of
Germany was generally deemed modest, but it was believed
she had no political interest in the Celestial Empire, and was
quite content to develop her commerce. Meanwhile Russia
and Japan had patched up their quarrel in Korea. Doubtless
their arrangements were not of a definite character, and their
mutual ambitions rather dormant than satisfied; but the advantages
already obtained, and the preparations which both
nations would have to make in order to be ready when they
wished to return to the game, seemed to promise a respite for
some years to come. Russia was constructing her railway,
267which, notwithstanding all the diligence brought to bear upon
its completion, was not expected to reach the river Amur until
the end of 1899, and the Pacific until 1903 or 1904. Japan,
whilst preparing for the arduous task of reorganizing Formosa,
was arming to the teeth, so as to be ready in case of trouble
with Russia, which she feared inevitable. She doubled her
army, and ordered a first-class fleet to be built in Europe and
America, which was to insure her maritime supremacy on the
coasts of China, but which could not be ready until 1904 or 1905.
France, having definitely pacified Tongking, was occupied
in studying the route of the various railway lines which had been
conceded to her. England was hastening the construction of
her railways in Burmah, and sending her steamers into the
West River, while her capital, amalgamated with that of
Germany and America, had the larger share in the industrial
movement which had been created in Shanghai, and seemed
likely to extend to other ports, especially after the treaty of
Shimonosaki.
China herself, profiting by this lull, returned to her old
sleepy habits: she had learnt nothing, and forgotten nothing.
When her chief statesman, Li Hung-chang, was sent to
Europe and America in 1896, it was not only because he was
better equipped than anyone else, by his long intercourse with
foreigners, to treat with them, but principally because he was in
disgrace. This mission had been offered to Prince Kung, and
even to Prince Ching, the Emperor’s uncles. ‘What have we
done,’ these illustrious personages probably exclaimed, ‘that
we should be subjected to this humiliation, and sent on a
mission to the barbarians?’ The tour of Li Hung-chang was,
therefore, intended as a severe punishment, supplemented
by the loss of his peacock’s feather and his yellow jacket. If
the observations which are attributed to him with respect to
progress are true, his influence must incontestably have
diminished, possibly owing to the vicissitudes to which he has
been subjected since his return to China. Be this as it may,
one thing is clear: he has not hitherto been able to overcome
either the Court prejudices or those of the overwhelming
majority of the literati.
The only progress made has been permission for the construction,
under the direction of English and American
engineers, of a line from Tien-tsin to Peking, to slightly
prolong beyond the Great Wall the one which starts from
268Tien-tsin and the mouth of the Pei-ho, and ascends northwards
along the coast of Pe-chi-li, and to authorize the reconstruction
of the little line from Shanghai to its deep-water port, Woosung.
These works organized in those parts of the Empire most
frequented by Europeans, in the great open port of Shanghai,
where half the foreign population of China lives, and in the
capital, the residence of the diplomatic corps, were calculated
to create an illusory effect. The English may also have wished
to unite Peking to the sea, which they dominated in the Far
East as elsewhere, to spite Russia for having installed herself in
Manchuria. A longer railway from Peking to Hankow,
traversing over 650 miles of the heart of China, had been projected
since 1889, and a Chinese railway director named Sheng
had been commanded to collaborate in the matter of its construction
with Li Hung-chang and his rival, the celebrated
Chang-Chih-Tung, Viceroy of Hankow. Much more progressive
in all probability than Li Hung-chang, Sheng seemed
really desirous of building this line; but he insisted that the
material should be manufactured in China, and to this effect he
had erected at Hanyang, near Hankow, and his capital Wu-chang,
three towns which in reality form one vast city, an immense
foundry, which was not likely, at any rate for many years to
come, to supply the necessary material. After the War the
united efforts of the Ministers of France and Belgium had
obtained permission for a Franco-Belgian financial syndicate to
construct the line for the Chinese Government, and then to
exploit it. Obstacles, however, were thrown in the way, and
although the Chinese had commenced the works on the Peking
side, they were stopped in the autumn of 1897, owing to difficulties
which had arisen concerning the interpretation of several
clauses in the contract. It was the old story of Chinese shifty
dilatoriness, and nothing came of any one of the reforms proposed,
civil or military.
Momentarily satisfied by their newly-acquired privileges, the
foreigners ceased, for the time being, clamouring for fresh
favours. Everything was calm at Peking, and no one seemed
to see any grave event likely to occur in the Far East, at any
rate, before the termination of the Trans-Siberian Railway,
which would give Russia the chance of making an advance step,
when all of a sudden, in the month of November, 1897, Europe
learnt with surprise that Germany had landed sailors in the
Bay of Kiao-chau, in the Shan-tung Peninsula. The motive
269for this unexpected movement, we were assured, was to put
pressure on the Government at Peking to conclude certain
long-standing negotiations connected with the assassination
of two German missionaries, and which, as usual in China,
dragged unconcernedly along. At first the importance of this
matter did not seem to create the impression that might have
been expected. Many even believed that it was but an ingenious
artifice on the part of the German Emperor to display the uses
of a navy, and to force the Reichstag to vote the necessary
credit for the increase of the fleet. But when William II. sent
into the Far East his brother Prince Henry, in command of a
squadron, requesting him at the time of his departure to make
the weight of his ‘mailed fist’ felt, if need arose, there was now
no possible doubt that the occupation of Kiao-chau was definitive,
and that Germany was paying herself, tardily, it is true,
but with less ceremony than her allies, for the services she had
rendered to China in 1895. She had taken, no doubt, a long
time about it, for she was hesitating as to which place she
should choose for the naval station she was anxious to establish
in the Far East.
If the landing at Kiao-chau had been thoroughly matured,
it, nevertheless, appeared that the Berlin Cabinet had not taken
the precaution to insure the consent of the other Powers. It
was asked if Russia herself, who had her eye on this bay, in
which her Far Eastern squadron had passed the winter of
1896–97, had not been caught napping. When the occupation
of the bay became known in England, public opinion became
violently excited. Although Germany seemed to have gradually
detached herself from the Franco-Russian group, and to have
approached Great Britain, and although English and German
banks combined had agreed in 1897 to float a second Chinese
loan of £16,000,000 on the European market, and notwithstanding
that the finances of the two countries had often co-operated
in China, the cordiality which exists between the subjects of
Queen Victoria and those of her grandson were even now
strained in the Far East. As soon as the occupation of Kiao-chau
became known, there was a positive explosion of invective
throughout the English press, soon followed by an avalanche of
jokes when William II. toasted his brother, on the eve of his
departure for the Chinese Seas, in an amusingly melodramatic
speech. The misadventures of Prince Henry, who was delayed
by divers accidents, and constantly obliged to coal at English
270naval stations, added not a little to the general and very ironical
merriment.
It was not so much the action of Germany that gave rise
to genuine anxiety in England as the fear that the Government
of the Tsar might take advantage of it to make another advance
in North China. If it mattered little to the English that
Russia should occupy a harbour free of ice throughout the year,
they were greatly exercised at the prospect of her approaching
the capital of the Celestial Empire close enough to obtain
direct influence in Chinese affairs. England insisted that a
port of this sort should be open to the commerce of all nations,
precisely like her own Hong-Kong or the Treaty Ports.
Thus, while Mr. Balfour, in the early days of 1898, almost
invited the Russians to secure for themselves an issue to the
open sea, a few days later another of Her Majesty’s Ministers—Sir
Michael Hicks-Beach—declared, amid the applause of
the entire press, ‘that the British Government was absolutely
determined, at any cost, even at the risk of war, that the “open
door” in China should not be closed.’ In order to oppose the
quiet advance of Russia, Great Britain anticipated her by
appropriating her hitherto successful financial policy, and offered
to lend the “Son of Heaven” £16,000,000, which he particularly
wanted. This last of the three great Chinese loans was
the least guaranteed. The Customs receipts no longer sufficed
to assure the interest, and it therefore gave the lender a greater
excuse for meddling in the internal administration, and to
exercise the stronger pressure on the politics of Peking. The
conditions for this loan included the addition to the list of
open ports of Talien-wan, in the peninsula of Liao-tung, which
Russia had long coveted. By throwing it open to the commerce
of all the Powers, its appropriation by any one of them
would be rendered very difficult, if not impossible.
The game was certainly very well played, but in order to
carry it to an issue, it was necessary to have a sufficient force
on the spot to impose upon China the acceptation of its conditions.
Now, the season was not propitious; in winter, when
the Pei-ho is frozen over, Russia must remain more powerful
at Peking than England. Scared by the threats of M. Pavloff,
the Russian Chargé d’Affaires, the Tsung-li-Yamen dared not
accept the demands of Sir Claude Macdonald, the English
Minister, notwithstanding the energetic manner in which they
were presented.
271The direct loan was consequently not concluded, Talien-wan
was not opened, and Great Britain had to content herself with
an agreement signed at the end of February, 1898, in virtue of
which she obtained, however, some very important concessions.
European steamers were, after June, 1898, to be allowed to
navigate in all the waters of the Empire. No part of the basin
of the Yang-tsze-Kiang was ever to be ceded or rented to any
foreign Power; a port was to be opened in the province of
Yunnan, and the position of Inspector-General of Customs
was to be reserved exclusively to a British subject, so long as
British commerce should hold the first rank in the foreign
commerce of China. The value of these concessions is apparent
when we consider that the basin of the Yang-tsze is the richest
and most thickly-peopled part of the Middle Kingdom. As a
commentary upon this agreement, the House of Commons in
March included in the Address to the Throne: ‘That it was of
vital importance for the commerce and influence of Great
Britain that the independence of China should be respected.’
In the course of the discussion Mr. Curzon, Under-Secretary
for Foreign Affairs, declared in the first place that England
was opposed to any attack upon the independence or integrity
of China, and that in the second she would resist any attempt
to close any Chinese port to her commerce, so long as it
was open, or to be opened, to the commerce of any other
nation, and that, moreover, she was determined to maintain
in their integrity all the privileges which she had obtained
by the treaty of Tien-tsin in 1858. This was the enunciation
of the famous policy known as the ‘open door.’
Meanwhile, Germany, in the same month of March, made
China ratify the occupation of Kiao-chau, which had been leased
to her for ninety-nine years, and which she hastened, it is true, to
declare a free port. An extensive radius of railways was at the
same time conceded to her in Shan-tung, which she had constituted
a ‘sphere of interest,’ and the right of pre-emption on
all the railway and mining concessions which the Chinese
Government might grant in that province.
Russia, on her side, alarmed at the Anglo-Chinese negotiations,
came to the conclusion that if she delayed her occupation
of the peninsula of Liao-tung any longer, she would risk, if not
being forestalled by a rival, at least witnessing the creation of
international interests calculated to render the execution of
her projects more difficult. She hesitated no longer, and on
272March 27th, 1898, obliged China to sign the Convention ceding
to her the lease of Port Arthur and Talien-wan, and the authorization
to construct a branch line, uniting these ports to the East
Chinese Railway. Thus she obtained her object The Trans-Siberian
had now a terminus on the open sea, and could threaten
Peking from the entrance of the Gulf of Pe-chi-li. It looked
for a moment as though the long deferred struggle between the
Whale and the Elephant were really about to take place. Two
English cruisers were stationed at Port Arthur when this point
was ceded to Russia. They put to sea, but on March 29th
the formidable British Far East fleet, which had been immensely
increased during the winter, was mobilized, one part
steaming towards the north, while the other remained at the
mouth of the Yang-tsze, ready to occupy, so it was said, the
Chusan Islands, which command the entrance to the river.
Russia was exceedingly prudent, and, in order not to add the
powerful support of Japan to that of England, on March 18th
she renounced all active intervention in Korea, and left that
country open, if not precisely to the political action, at least
to the economic interest of the Land of the Rising Sun. A
conflict was averted, but the inevitable opposition of Russian
and English interests, added to an accumulation in China Seas
of warships of every nationality, hastily sent there after the
affair of Kiao-chau, kept up a well-founded feeling of anxiety and
irritation in the minds of the British public, further increased
by a Franco-Chinese agreement signed in April. France
remained, according to her habitual policy, confined in the
poor regions of the south, but obtained from China the promise
not to alienate on any account the territory comprised in the
three frontier provinces of Tongking, and never to cede to any
other Power than France the island of Hainan. To these
clauses were added the renewal of the concession of the Yunnan
Railway, and finally the cession on a long lease of the Bay of
Kwang-chau-Wang, situated on the eastern coast of the Lei-chau
Peninsula opposite Hainan, and, moreover, the Chinese
engaged to appoint a French Director-General of Posts. This,
of course, was an answer to the promise obtained by Great
Britain respecting the Director-General of Customs, and it
might have been of great importance to the French by placing
in their hands the telegraph lines of the Celestial Empire which
joined, independently of the British cable, the lines in Indo-China
which stretched to the Russian lines in Siberia and thence
273on to Paris. Notwithstanding the great political interest at stake,
this advantage was unhappily allowed to lapse, no Director-General
of Posts has been nominated, this post still remaining
united to that of the Customs, under the direction of Sir
Robert Hart. With respect to the other concessions obtained
by France, it does not appear that England or any other Power
need be much concerned about them. Hainan may have
some importance to France, who could never permit any other
Power to establish itself at the entrance to the Gulf of Tongking.
As to the harbour of Kwang-chau, which is not of the first
rank, the mouth being narrow, it does not extend the French
sphere of action, but leaves her mewed up where she was in
the far south. It has only brought her annoyances, and is
certainly not a strategical point of primary importance, whence
she might menace the position of her rivals in the China
Seas.
Far more important were the cessions of territory soon afterwards
made to Great Britain in compensation for the occupation
of the ports of Liao-tung by the Russians. Their value did not
consist in their extent, which was not considerable, being merely
Wei-hai-wei and a little town in Shan-tung, and 400 square
miles of territory in the peninsula of Kowloon, and immediately
opposite Hong-Kong. Both were leased for ninety-nine years.
The strategical value is, however, of the highest importance.
In the peninsula of Kowloon, where the English had up to this
time only a small piece of land, they now came into possession
of all the heights and bays necessary to shelter the port
of Hong-Kong from attack and to insure its extension. Wei-hai-wei,
on the other hand, gave them precisely what they had
long coveted—a naval station in the North of China, so that
when their squadron was in these latitudes it would no longer
be obliged to make a voyage of from four to five days in order
to take in provisions or seek shelter at Hong-Kong. Wei-hai-wei,
the fortifications of which were immediately undertaken,
in a measure weakens Port Arthur, the two being exactly
opposite each other, with a stretch of sea of only sixty miles
between them, and the former is not much more distant from
the mouth of the Pei-ho. Needless to say, being in possession
of so excellent a station, England with her superior fleet will
necessarily during many years to come be in a position to
prevent the Russian squadron interfering with her projects,
and also, notwithstanding the shortness of the journey, to
274impede any assistance by sea being afforded to Russian
troops who might be operating in the north of China. The
English, moreover, can from this position, by a dexterous
movement, cut the line of railway between Tien-tsin and the
Great Wall.
Notwithstanding these advantages, the insatiable British
public was not satisfied, and complained that the Government
had allowed Germany to occupy a privileged position in Shan-tung,
and had, moreover, promised not to interfere with her
rights in that province, nor to construct a railway starting from
Wei-hai-wei, and, moreover, to consider this place as a sort of
Far Eastern Gibraltar without any commercial pretensions,
thereby consenting to the creation of a German sphere of
interest in opposition to the policy of the ‘open door.’ When
Parliament was prorogued in August, the Chinese Question
had been discussed no fewer than eight times, and the Salisbury
Ministry had been frequently and very bitterly attacked
by its own supporters. The intemperate oratory of certain
Ministers, and notably of Mr. Chamberlain, who unhesitatingly
accused Russia of bad faith, and even went so far as to say
one must remember when dealing with Russia the old proverb,
‘He who sups with the devil must have a long spoon,’ had not
a little contributed to excite public opinion in Great Britain.
In order to soothe matters a little, the Cabinet declared to
Parliament that its Minister at Peking had been authorized to
inform the Chinese Government that Great Britain would lend
its support in order to resist an attempt on the part of any
Power to commit an act of aggression against China under the
pretext that she had granted to a British subject the concession
of a railway or other public work.
This was a return to the policy of the ‘open door’ to which
England attaches so much importance. She refused to admit
that commercial privileges should be given to any one Power,
or any preference for public works to be executed; in a word,
she would hear of no ‘spheres of interest.’ Such stipulations
are, indeed, diametrically opposed to the wording of the treaties,
but in these times hardly, except by force or the threat to use
it, can one expect even the most solemn engagements to be
observed. England herself was obliged to concur in the
German ‘sphere of interest’ in Shan-tung. In the months of
August and September, 1898, it was once more feared that
there might be trouble between England and Russia over
275the matter of the railway from Shan-hai-Kwan to Niu-chwang,
a prolongation beyond the Great Wall of the line between
Peking, Tien-tsin, and Shan-hai-Kwan. The principal bank in
the Far East, the Hong-Kong and Shanghai Banking Corporation,
was to build it for the Chinese Government and exploit
it, reserving as security a first mortgage on the line. Russia
intervened, and objected that any railway concession should
be given to any other Power than herself north of the Great
Wall. After considerable discussion, the Powers arrived at
an agreement, and the English company kept the concession,
but only retained a lien on the already constructed Peking-Shan-hai-Kwan
line to the south of the Wall.
In the midst of all the intrigues and unpleasantness which
we have just narrated, Europe has, nevertheless, accomplished
at Peking a noteworthy and unprecedented work. She has
not only obtained very advantageous concessions for her
commerce, such, for instance, as the opening to navigation of
all the watercourses on which Treaty Ports are situated, but
also the allotment to the European Customs Administration
of the collecting of likin in the valley of the Yang-tsze, as a
security for the third great loan of £16,000,000. She has
also obtained the right to introduce into China the best
machinery for the exploitation of her natural resources. The
English are about to work the coal and iron mines of Shan-si
and Ho-nan, the Germans those of Shan-tung, and the English
and French together the mines of Yunnan. Six thousand
miles of railway are to be constructed, not only at the extremities
of the Empire in the Steppes of Manchuria and on the plateaux
bordering Indo-China, but also in the thickly-peopled central
and eastern provinces, from Peking to Han-kau and Canton,
from Tien-tsin to the lower Yang-tsze, in Shan-tung and around
Shanghai, connecting towns of several hundred thousand, and
even over a million inhabitants, through countries at least twice
as densely peopled as France.
276
Necessity of proceeding slowly with the Reform movement in China, if the
overthrow of the Empire is to be averted—Weakness of the Government
at Peking—The Emperor and the Reformer, Kang-Yu-Wei—The
Empress Dowager and Li Hung-chang—Palace revolution in September,
1898—Enormous obstacles in the way of the Celestial Empire
reforming itself—Reasons why it cannot follow the example of Japan
in 1868—The possibility of partition—The interests of Great Britain,
the United States, and Japan, partizans of the ‘open door’ policy,
and of Germany, Russia, and France—The dangers incurred by
partition—Difficulties of effecting it pacifically, and also for Europeans
to govern the hundreds of millions of Chinese—The anarchy that might
result—Services which might be rendered to progress by the Chinese
Government in preventing too rapid a transition—Possibility of converting
the Chinese to material progress.
‘Every time that the bones of China are rattled—and they
have never been more vigorously than at present’—said a
technical English paper, ‘an increase of commerce follows.’
Nothing can be truer; but, at the same time, it might be prudent
not to shake the old skeleton too violently, too often, or too
long, if we do not wish to see it tumble to pieces. China is a
sort of amorphous State whose different parts are joined
together by the very weakest ties, concerning which we know
little or nothing, and whose main force consists in tradition
and in the existence of a governing class of literati, recruited
throughout the Empire, even among the very people. On the
other hand, germs of serious disaffection do exist; the actual
Dynasty is a foreign one, which, at the beginning of the century,
the terrible Taiping Rebellion—only suppressed with the
assistance of Europeans—nearly ruined, and the descendants of
the old national Ming Dynasty are still living. The accession
277to the throne of the present Emperor was irregular, it seems,
according to Chinese procedure, and the country is honeycombed
by secret societies, whose object is the overthrow of
the existing state of affairs. The mass of the people are totally
indifferent to politics, and very rarely exhibit hostility to
foreigners, if the latter behave with circumspection, unless,
indeed, they are urged on by fanatics or malcontents, when,
unfortunately, they are easily roused. In the principal towns
of every prefecture and sub-prefecture there exists a heterogeneous
mass of soured and fanatical literati, who pursue the
humblest trades in order to keep themselves from starvation,
who are intimately mixed up with the people, by whom they
are treated with great respect, and who will obey their commands
to overthrow the Europeans and their innovations.
The Government of Peking is too thoroughly convinced of
its external weakness to openly resist any demand imposed
upon it by the Powers, but if it be too hardly pressed, and
forced to introduce or allow the premature introduction of
all sorts of innovations, and in too many places at once, it may
run the risk of exciting against it the literati, who regard, and
not without reason, any extension of European influence as a
menace to their privileges. Such action might easily lead to
active opposition to all reform, especially in the central and
southern provinces, more backward than those of the north,
and, if leaders of the movement can be discovered, lead to the
complete disorganization of the Celestial Empire. Trouble
has already occurred in Sze-chuan, as well as further in the
lower valley of the Yang-tsze. A rather serious insurrection
broke out in 1898 in the Kwang-si and Kwang-tung, but
without any result. We know that local troubles in so badly
governed a country as China of a necessity must become
chronic, but in many cases the news concerning them reaches
Europe considerably embellished and exaggerated.
It is certain that the elements of disorder are just now greatly
excited. Even at Peking rival factions are disputing for power;
the events which occurred there in September, 1898, are little,
and possibly never will be completely, known, and it would be
impossible to relate with any approach to truth the tragedies
and comedies that are constantly being enacted within the
walls of the Forbidden City.
The Emperor Kuang-Su, a young man of twenty-five, with a
sickly body, and, it is said, a weak mind, had been completely
278won over to the Reform movement by a literate of the new
school, named Kang-Yu-Wei, who hailed from Canton. His
Celestial Majesty, with all the zeal of a neophyte, was induced
during the summer to issue a distinctly revolutionary edict. It
was said that he went so far as to presume to wear a European
costume, and that he even intended going personally
to Japan to observe there for himself the transformation which
had been effected in the last thirty years. The Reform party
undoubtedly had entertained Japanese as well as English
sympathies, and its chief, Kang-Yu-Wei, passed his last night
at Peking in the Japanese Legation. Marquis Ito, it is said,
discouraged the precipitation with which it was intended to
carry out in a few weeks reforms that had taken more than a
quarter of a century to accomplish in Japan.
Such an attempt had no chance of success, for it not only
opposed many prejudices and interests, but was opposed by all
the Manchu functionaries, by Li Hung-chang, who had been
recently disgraced, and by the Empress Dowager. His Celestial
Majesty pretended to arrest this last-named personage, who is
his aunt, and not his mother; but the astute Princess defeated
his object. The great majority of the mandarins being hostile
to the movement, she soon possessed herself of the necessary
tools for her purpose. The Emperor was in his turn imprisoned
in his palace, and forced to apologize and sign an edict
placing the reins of Government entirely in the hands of
the Dowager. The immediate consequence of this act was
that all the mandarins of the old school, among them Li
Hung-chang, returned forthwith to power; Kang-Yu-Wei took flight
on board an English vessel, and most of his partizans were
either beheaded or sent into exile, and very soon all trace of
their work was effaced.
From this imprudent attempt at reform we may derive a few
useful lessons. In the first place it showed the instability of
the Peking Government, and also the existence, but at the same
time the impotence, of the Reform party among the literati;
and in the second it accentuated that dangerous factor in the
politics of the Far East, the inflexible antagonism existing
between England and Russia. The Empress Tze-Hsi is undoubtedly
a very clever woman; she first governed the Empire
in the capacity of Regent, but since 1887 she has, with the
assistance of Li Hung-chang, who is said to have been a
former lover, done so in the name of her nephew, absolutely
279refusing to abdicate. Her rule has been undoubtedly pernicious
to China, for it has invariably been reactionary. As
an instance in point, an important Viceroy has been recently
reprimanded for attempting to reorganize on the European
system the troops in the provinces which he administered.
The Tsung-li-Yamen has likewise in a very short time contrived
to strengthen the party opposed to innovation, and all sorts of
restrictions have been placed in the way of the exploitation of
the mines. For all this, be it bad or good, the Government of
Tze-Hsi and of Li Hung-chang is nevertheless a Government;
but both the Empress and her Minister are aged, and one may
naturally ask what will occur when they are no longer of this
world.
The Reform party, which seems to have the sympathy of a
few high functionaries, does not apparently include many of
the mandarin class; the unsuccessful literati, who struggle for
existence in the towns of the interior, and who are in immediate
contact with the people, apparently remain outside
of all notion of progress, being absolutely convinced of the
immense superiority of the Chinese over the barbarians. It
is therefore very difficult to imagine how a handful of innovators
can ever be able to impose their ideas against so much
prejudice. A revolution, such as occurred in Japan in 1868,
which rushed that Empire into the ways of reform, stands no
chance of being effected in China, and even if it were, it would
only receive just such another rebuff as happened in 1898, or
else lead to anarchy and the dismemberment of the Empire.
The situation in China to-day is essentially different from
that of Japan thirty years ago. In the first place the Chinese
civilization which gave way in Japan to European was not of
domestic growth, but essentially an imported article of extreme
antiquity, which never succeeded in stultifying the Japanese
people as it has done the Chinese; what is more, ancestors
and classics were never held by the Japanese in the same
veneration as is bestowed upon them by the Chinese. Far
above the traditions of Confucius and of the Wise Men of old
stood the Mikado of divine descent and the spirit of national
independence. The first object of the Japanese Revolution in
1868 was to restore the Emperor to the plenitude of his power,
a result attained by the union of the principal clans, as we have
already explained. Although it resulted in the suppression of
feudalism and the introduction of European civilization, it was
280originally not presented in this form, and if the entire nation
eventually accepted these innovations, it was because they had
been consecrated by the divine Emperor, and, moreover, were
approved of by a powerful army which had always been friendly
to progress and prompt to resist reaction.
Those advantages that so greatly favoured the Japanese
reformers are non-existent in China. There is no military
party in Peking friendly to Reform or eager to assist the reformers
in seizing supreme power at the right moment and
helping them to retain it. The initiative, therefore, cannot
come from either the capital or the provinces. Instead of the
Japanese daimios, or hereditary chieftains, surrounded by innumerable
and faithful vassals, we have in China viceroys who
are invariably strangers in the provinces they administer, and are
spied upon by Tatar marshals having at their disposal by way
of an army a horde of ill-disciplined ragamuffins, whom, even if
an attempt were made to transform them into genuine soldiers,
a task which would require many years to effect, the Court
at Peking, being against the scheme, would soon disband.
No martial spirit or feeling of patriotism exists in China to
induce the governing classes to give up their privileges, even
though it were for the benefit of the country. The tenacious
attachment of the Chinese to their very ancient but stationary
civilization is their greatest impediment to progress, especially
as love of country is a mere empty sound to the vast majority
of Chinamen.
Another and very important difference between China to-day
and Japan in 1868 is that thirty years ago Europe permitted
the Island Empire to accomplish its own revolution
without interference, whereas to-day the Powers would
assuredly prevent any attempt at a too sudden evolution in
the Government of the Celestial Empire, which would only
plunge the country into a deplorable condition of turmoil.
Even now the Dowager Empress’s party is known as the
Russian, and that of Kang-Yu-Wei as the Anglo-Japanese.
Possibly this may be an exaggerated view of the case, and that
neither party is in the service of any particular Power; but
the incorruptibility of Li Hung-chang must be taken with a
grain of salt. It is, however, certain that the Legations watch
with a jealous eye the intrigues of the various factions, and
that the disgrace of Li Hung-chang is looked upon as a victory
for England, and each return to power of the Viceroy of Pe-chi-li
281as a Russian success. No worse sign could possibly exist
for a State than the perpetual interference of foreign Powers in
its affairs.
‘Are we about to witness the dismemberment of China?’ is a
question people are constantly asking themselves. No one in
particular wishes for it, since the division of such an inheritance
would be disputed by at least five or six claimants, who will
only settle their differences at the sword’s point. For the past
twenty-five years Europe has trembled at the bare thought of
war, and we must not be surprised if she dreads the mere
mention of the disruption of China, which would be even more
dreadful, since it means universal war, in which the United
States, Great Britain, and Japan, as well as the Continental
Powers, would each take a share. Even if the matter were
settled amicably, what country would care to govern eighty or
a hundred millions of Chinamen? Some people say that it
could easily be settled by not attempting to govern them at all,
in other words, to let things go their way; but no European
Power would, or could, do otherwise than rule them methodically,
according to our modern ideas of government. To-day,
if a band of brigands exists in any obscure corner of
China, nobody troubles about it, but once that corner belongs
to a European Power, the irresistible desire of attempting to
establish order would assuredly lead to an insurrection. The
introduction of European methods is certain to upset many of
the old customs and traditions to which the Chinese hold with
almost pathetic tenacity. It requires an amazing tact to govern
the Chinese, a fact made daily manifest in Hong-Kong, and
illustrated by the recent serious outbreak in the French concession
at Shanghai, where a disturbance took place over the
removal of a time-honoured sanctuary to make way for a public
road. The difficulties encountered by Europeans in every
country imbued with Chinese ideas—those of the English in
Burmah, the French in Tongking, and the Japanese at
Formosa—prove, if proof were needed, how great is the resisting
power and the risks any European nation would have to
encounter which attempted to govern even a fragment of the vast
Chinese Empire.
On the other hand, each Power, whilst dreading the consequences
of a partition, is equally unwilling to behold a rival
carry off the lion’s share. It is, therefore, with an eye to an
eventual partition that each nation endeavours to obtain a
282privileged position in certain regions, and to possess itself of
spheres of interest by forcing China to make the singular
promise never to cede any portion of territory in certain defined
provinces to any nation but to the one which obtains the
promise. But this sort of promise is fraught with difficulties,
and a source of eventual hostilities between nations having
pretensions upon the same region, just as it is between the
partizans of ‘spheres of interest’ and those of the ‘open door.’
In order to understand the policy of the various Powers in
China, in which they see a very important field for exploitation,
we must first consider their commercial interests in the
Celestial Empire. The British Empire incontestably occupies
first place in the foreign commerce of China, which in 1897
stood at 366,000,000 hai-kwan taels, or £54,900,000 (1 tael =
3s.). Of this 236,934,000 taels, or £35,540,100, two-thirds of
the whole, belongs, according to the Imperial Chinese Customs
Report, to Great Britain. Here, however, we must not be
misled, for if we subdivide this sum, we shall see that about
£5,500,000 alone belong to England, £5,000,000 to her
colonies other than Hong-Kong, through which the remainder,
that is to say, about £23,000,000 worth of goods, passes, Hong-Kong
being merely a point of transit. Goods imported from
Germany, America and Russia into China, passing through
this island port, or being exported thence to the four corners
of the globe, are put down to England. Then, again, a very
important trade is carried on between the North and the South
of China through Hong-Kong, and thus it comes to pass that
Great Britain gets the credit for commerce which does not
really belong to her. If Hong-Kong possessed proper Custom-house
statistics, it would be easy to account for the origin and
destination of the merchandise which passes through this port;
but such statistics do not exist. Under these circumstances,
we must turn either to those of the various countries of Europe
and America, or to the detailed statistics of the Chinese
Customs, which frequently rectify the total amounts, whereby
we learn that £692,700 worth of Russian petroleum is imported,
whereas the total imports from Russia by sea are only estimated
at £485,100. The difference must, therefore, be accounted
for as having passed through Hong-Kong. A comparison
between the Chinese Customs statistics and those of Germany,
the United States, French Indo-China, and other countries,
obliges us, however, to admit that three-fifths at least of the
283trade of Hong-Kong really belongs to the British Empire, which
leaves to the latter about £27,000,000, that is, 40 to 50 per
cent. of the total foreign commerce of the Celestial Empire.
In the matter of imports, the English reign supreme, holding
at least three-fourths in their hands, and dominating the market
by the two principal articles, opium and cotton. Moreover,
their flag floats over 65 per cent. of the total tonnage registered
in the Chinese ports; of 636 foreign houses of business
established in the open ports, 374 are English; of 11,600
foreigners, 5,000 are British subjects; and English is the
language most spoken throughout the ports of the Far
East. When we take all these facts into consideration, we
are obliged to acknowledge that, having so many interests
to defend in this part of the globe, England has a right to let
her voice be heard clearly in commercial affairs. We must not
be surprised, therefore, if she insists upon the ‘open door’ policy
in China. The question now arises, Does she seek territory in
the Celestial Empire? She has apparently sacrificed the
‘spheres of interest’ theory by exacting from China an engagement
not to cede anything in the basin of the Yang-tsze, and
the English Jingoes are already dreaming that Great Britain
will be mistress not only from the Cape to Cairo, but from
Cairo to Shanghai. ‘Are not the Arabian Coast and the
Persian Gulf,’ I recently read in an English paper, ‘already
ours, and morally subject to our protectorate? Once we
possess the valley of the Yang-tsze, who is to prevent our
constructing a rival line to the Trans-Siberian from the mouth
of the Nile to that of the Blue River?’[28] Although just at
present it were best not to count too much on the wisdom and
coolness of the British, nevertheless, their statesmen seem to
appreciate the dangers of so beautiful a dream. They, at least,
understand that the peril of the British Empire lies in its enormous
extent. The majority of the British would, no doubt, be satisfied
if they were allowed to place their capital and their commerce
on a footing of equality with that of other countries
in the Celestial Empire, if the territorial encroachments of
the Powers did not justify the fear of the creation of a protectionist
tariff. We may, therefore, hope that Great Britain,
having obtained all that she desires in the way of strategic
284points for the benefit of her naval forces, and also a great
number of commercial concessions, will remain contented with
her lot, and not dream of attacking the independence of China,
but rather be inclined to help her to regain power.[29]
After England the United States do the greatest business
with China. They only figure for £4,500,000 in the Chinese
Customs statistics, but their own official publications give
£7,840,000. Petroleum and cotton goods are the principal
articles of their commerce, which is sure to be enormously
increased in the future as the Middle Kingdom requires more
and more machinery, which is manufactured to-day much more
cheaply in America than anywhere else. The United States
are represented in China by thirty-two houses of business and
1,564 citizens; their mercantile marine is, however, very insignificant,
but having of late assumed a position among the
world’s Powers, and being already installed in the Philippines,
they are sure to increase their mercantile fleet very rapidly, and
as they aspire to become one day mistress of the Pacific,
they watch with a very jealous eye all that happens in the Far
East. However protectionist they may be at home, they are
resolute partizans of the ‘open door’ in this market, of which
they justly hope to eventually acquire a large part through their
enterprise. Already a coolness has occurred in their friendship
with Russia, and in January, 1900, they obtained a guarantee
that none of the Powers should establish differential tariffs in
leased ‘spheres of interest.’
Japan takes the third rank with a rapidly increasing commerce,
which in 1897 reached £5,850,000. Her spun cotton
rivals that of England and India. Seven hundred Japanese are
registered as residing in the different ports. The Celestial
Empire has no warmer friends at the present moment than the
Japanese. The Japanese papers are full of articles which
compare the position of the two countries to that of Prussia and
Austria after Sadowa, and preach reconciliation, and a close
alliance was already spoken of with enthusiasm at the close of
the War. Many Japanese statesmen are studying this question,
among them the Marquis Ito, four times Prime Minister, and
Prince Konoye, President of the Chamber of Peers, who
travelled in China, and stayed in Peking in 1898 and 1899.
285According to certain signs, their overtures have not been altogether
fruitless. The Government of the Empress Dowager
does not seem to entertain any particular rancour against the
Japanese for the sympathies which they expressed for the Reformer
Kang-Yu-Wei, and undoubtedly seeks some support in
order to withdraw itself from the over-exclusive domination of
Russia. If this last Power is feared in Peking, it would seem
that Japan is at the present time the most considered, whose
counsels are best heard, and who best serves as the intermediary
for progress into China. It is from Japan that China
obtains instructors for her army, and that the Viceroy Chang-Chih-tung
not only borrowed money, but also engineers for his
foundry at Hanyang. The cementing of a formal alliance
will no doubt be prevented through fear of Russia, and very
probably China does not desire it very sincerely. Possibly at
Peking they continue to despise the Japanese as much as they do
Europeans, although they may have a preference for the former.
One thing is certain, and that is, that the relations between the
Governments at Peking and Tokio are better than they were
before the War. Of the Western Powers, England is most
preferred by the Mikado’s subjects, although even with her
they are a little suspicious. A feeling of intense resentment is still
expressed by the vast majority of the Japanese against Russia.
A small minority, however, desire that an understanding should
be arrived at with her. This party, however, also wishes for
the ‘open door,’ China being the only outlet for their young
and already important cotton industry.
These three nations—England, the United States, and Japan—complete
the group of the whole-hearted partizans of the
‘open door.’ The British press has often expressed a desire
to see an alliance effected between them, and if this were only
created between England and Japan it would be very formidable
in the Far East. The Japanese fleet is excellent, and
whatever may be our opinion of the ability of the Mikado’s
sailors, it is certain that, once united to the English fleet under
the command of an English admiral, it could soon sweep the
China Seas, and it would then be easy to embark an army of a
hundred, even of two hundred thousand men, whom it would
be difficult, even according to Russian officers, for the Tsar’s
army in the Far East to resist. Perhaps Russia has pushed
the Empire of the Rising Sun too much and too soon into the
arms of England.
286Germany, who, according to her own statistics, carries on
a trade with China valued at £3,400,000, of which £2,320,000
are imports into China, and who counts 104 commercial
houses instead of the 78 in 1892, and registers 870 residents
in the Treaty Ports, divides her preferences between the
policy of the ‘spheres of influence’ and the ‘open door.’ If
she has reserved a right of preference in the public works to
be undertaken in Shan-tung, she soothes the irritation of the
English by making Kiao-chau a free port; but, notwithstanding
the antipathy which exists at heart between the two nations
and the progress of German commerce, often at the cost of
British trade, and thanks to the more obliging manners and
greater activity of the German merchants, a distinct amelioration
has taken place since the end of 1898 in the relations
between the two Governments, and Germany seems for the
present to have turned her back upon the Franco-Russian group
in the Far East in order to support British policy. One
province alone in China is not enough for her commercial
enterprise, and she fears to see protection closing the other
ports.
We now come to Russia. Her total commerce with the
Celestial Empire does not amount to more than about
£3,000,000, half of which passes overland by way of Siberia.
Petroleum as an import and tea as an export are the two great
articles of Russian trade with the Celestial Empire. There are
very few Russians living in China, and those who do so are
mainly established in the port of Hankow. Russia’s objects in
the East are almost entirely political, and it is very probable that
her protective tariff will follow her territorial aggrandizement.
Being already mistress of Manchuria, she officially fixed the
southern limits of her sphere of influence, at the time of the
affair of the Niu-chwang Railway, at the Great Wall. To the
north is a vast stretch of land almost entirely desert. In all
probability this limit is merely temporary, and possibly none
really exists in Russian aspirations; but before declaring her
policy she awaits the completion of the Trans-Siberian Railway.
The Empire of the Tsar, notwithstanding the 60,000 to 80,000
men already massed between the Amur, Korea, and Pe-chi-li,
does not yet feel sufficiently safe to take a step forward for fear
of bringing herself into conflict with England and Japan. The
day the Trans-Siberian Railway is finished a step southwards
may no doubt be made. The antagonism between Russia and
287Great Britain, both of whom aspire to be the leading Asiatic
Power, will then no doubt become bitterer than ever.
The policy of France has been more often than not ostentatious,
timid at heart and often vexatious in form. She has
made a great fuss over a few commercial advantages obtained
in the sterile provinces which border on Tongking, and she has
opposed England without doing her any injury with respect to
the opening of the West River. In certain affairs relating to
European concessions at Shanghai and Hankow, France has
unfortunately succeeded not only in vexing England, but in
alarming the Germans, Americans, and Japanese by the excessive
regulations which she has introduced in those territories
which have fallen into her hands. It does not seem, however,
that the French have contrived to obtain sufficient compensation
for the enmities which they have provoked in defending,
not without peril, interests which after all were not their own.
The part which France has wished to play in China has not
been a strictly commercial one. French highly-finished and
expensive fabrics are of no good in the Chinese market. If
she only had the common-sense and enterprise to send to
Tongking first-class weavers, and establish there a manufactory
under French direction, with cheap native labour, she should
soon be able, if she copied the cotton industries of India, to
compete with Japan in the Chinese market. It is therefore
the exportation of capital which ought to be her object in
the Far East, in China as well as in Indo-China. Notwithstanding
their activity, it is not countries like Japan and Russia,
which are without capital, that can attempt to exploit the riches
of China, but countries that are already advanced in civilization
like Germany, the United States, and above all, France
and England, who, by the introduction of the vast resources
of their capital, are in a position to work the mines, railways,
and other resources of the Middle Kingdom. If, instead of
trying to obtain exclusive privileges in a poor region, which are
of no use and only irritate other nations, France had supported
them in their ‘open door’ policy, she would have gained
a good deal, without losing anything from the purely commercial
point of view, and thus Frenchmen might have placed
themselves on a common footing with men of all nations, in
the same manner that the English and the Germans contrived
to come to an agreement in business transactions, notwithstanding
the divergence which tends to separate them more
288and more, and she would then have been able to place her
capital to great advantage, and thereby have added immensely
to her prosperity, not only abroad but at home, as was the
case under the Second Empire, when she covered Europe with
railways.
France might, moreover, from the purely political point of
view, have played a conciliatory part, and have thus managed
to prevent the dominant influences at Peking from becoming
too exclusive, which might ultimately result in a terrible conflict,
and she should have worked to maintain the independence
of China. Now that the Chinese are permitting Europeans
to take their riches in hand by constructing their railways
and exploiting their mines, it seems to us that France ought to
allow her to retain a sort of communal existence, in which
the civilized nations might carry on their economic activity
precisely as they do in Turkey, with the difference that the
Empire of the Son of Heaven is much vaster, richer, and
populated by a far more industrious people than that of Sultan
Abd-ul-Hamid.
This is, of course, a solution of an apparently temporary
character, but which might have a chance here, as elsewhere,
of lasting longer than a score of other solutions which are
deemed definitive, always provided that the Powers do not
exert too much pressure on the feeble Government at Peking,
and especially if Russia, once the Trans-Siberian Railway is
finished, does not insist upon her demands in so violent a manner
as to provoke simultaneous action on the part of the Powers, and
thereby bring about a partition. The destinies of the Celestial
Empire are, however, in a great measure in the hands of the
Tsar, who has, fortunately, already given many proofs of
sagacity.
The maintenance of the Chinese Government seems for the
moment preferable, even in the interests of the opening up of
the country and in the introduction of our civilization in its
immense territory, to the partition of China between the various
European nations. We do not say this because we believe that
the Chinese Government is converted to progress, for we hold
that, with very few exceptions, those who direct the fortunes of
the Chinese Empire are quite as fossilized in their prejudices,
as firmly believe in their decrepit wisdom, as eager to prove
their hatred of Western civilization, and, moreover, as corrupt,
as ever they were. At the same time, they are convinced
289of the impossibility of China resisting the encroachments of
European civilization, and as resigned as ever to yield to external
pressure. Undoubtedly the era of subterfuges on the one
side and of menaces on the other is by no means closed,
and in spite of reforms which have been, and are still to be,
obtained in the future by Europeans, a considerable part of the
pecuniary advantages to be obtained from the transformation
of China will remain in the hands and up the sleeves of the
mandarins. But if progress is somewhat retarded by this
resistance, which, after all, will only be temporary, it will be
better so than that it should be introduced too suddenly and
cause unnecessary trouble. Meanwhile, the Government of
Peking plays an extremely useful part. Some people have not
hesitated to say that if it ceased to exist progress would be
much more rapid, forgetting that anarchy would ensue, the
end of which would be as difficult to foresee as it would be
to find a means of terminating it, or of discovering a manner in
which any European Government could govern 200,000,000
Chinamen. The losses which the re-establishment of a stable
regime would entail, and the vast expense of subduing rebellion,
would certainly exceed those resulting from the procrastination
under the actual form of Government.
At the end of a certain period it is highly probable that
the march of events may be accelerated, and when the mass
of the Chinese people have been placed in contact with the
results of Western progress, it is very probable that its
great common-sense will do the rest. It is an appeal to their
essentially commercial and money-making instincts that we
must make if we wish to convert the Chinese, the most realistic
and the least idealistic of nations. Railways will be the best
missionaries of civilization in China.
INDEX
290
A
Advances, small, made to immigrants into Siberia, 47
1. 300Mr. Richard Davey is responsible for the translation of this work, but I
have added a footnote here and there (signed by my initials), and I have
revised the spelling of the proper names to bring them into accordance
with English usage. To forestall the charge of inconsistency, I may say
that I have acted on the principle generally adopted in the spelling of European
proper names, that is, I have retained improper spellings consecrated
by long custom—for instance, Chefoo, Suchow, Hankow, Kowloon, just as we
write Florence, Munich, Naples, Moscow. But names not yet regularly
Europeanized I have spelled according to a consistent and more reasonable
system of transliteration-as Kiao-chau, Pe-chi-li, Kwei-chau. The French
spelling of Chinese proper names looks very strange to an English eye, and
would convey a wholly false impression to an English ear.
3. For example, the writer signing himself ‘Diplomaticus’ in the Fortnightly
Review for September, 1900, airily dismisses as ‘illusions’ the belief
that ‘China was gradually crumbling to ruin, that she was incapable of organized
resistance to the foreigner, that her millions were unconscious of a
national spirit and incapable of progress.’ Each one of these ‘illusions’ is an
elementary fact about China, except so far as foreign help and guidance may
alter it.
4. The Times special correspondent, September 11th, 1900.
5. Written especially for the American edition by the author.
6. The position of the Manchu Dynasty in China is somewhat analogous
to that of the Shogunate in Japan, which was also caught some forty years
ago between the national sentiment and the foreigner. But in Japan,
when the Shogunate fell, there remained the divine Emperor, whose
prestige covered all the reforms which enlightened statesmen carried out.
In China, after the Manchu Dynasty, nothing remains but chaos.
7. ‘Yermak,’ the millstone, was the nickname given to Vassil, son of
Timothy, a tracker of the Volga, because he ground the corn for his party.
He was not a Cossack by birth, but joined the Don Cossack pirates.—H. N.
8. The import of Ceylon tea into Russia is already large, and is increasing
rapidly.—H. N.
9. All that part of Siberia situated east of Baikalia forms a sort of neutral
ground free of the Custom-house. Only spirits, tobacco, sugar, mineral
oils, lucifer matches, and in general all articles of the same character which
are subject to excise duty in Siberia proper, pay Custom-house duties when
they are sent for sale to the Siberian ports on the Pacific. All other goods
have only to pay ‘customs’ if they are forwarded to parts of the Empire
west of Baikalia, and these are paid at Irkutsk, through which everything
is obliged to pass. Tea going from Kiakhta pays duty at Irkutsk.
10. By means of an ice-breaking steamer vessels are now able to leave or
enter Vladivostok harbour at any time.
11. The Tsar appointed a Commission to inquire into the whole question
of transportation to Siberia, with a view to its cessation. The Commission
is now understood to have reported in this sense.—H. N.
12. The author is misinformed here. The Baikal, the great ice-breaking,
train-carrying steamer, and the Angara, a smaller passenger-boat,
have both been designed, constructed, and set up on Lake Baikal by
Sir W. G. Armstrong, Whitworth and Co., Ltd., of Newcastle-on-Tyne.—H. N.
13. The official estimate of the total cost of the railway is over £80,000,000,
of which over £50,000,000 were spent by the end of 1899.—H. N.
14. This train has been running for a year as far as Irkutsk.—H. N.
16. In 1899 (to December 25) 423,646,605 yen or £42,364,660.—H. N.
17. The Japanese took care to stipulate that the indemnity should be paid
in gold at the exchange of the tael in 1895, which allowed them to know
exactly on what amount of money they could count, which was of extreme
importance to them, Japan having adopted the gold standard, and the
greater part of the indemnity being destined to be spent in purchases in
Europe and the United States.
18. Many of the daimios, whose personal property was very small, are now
extremely poor. The largest fortunes in Japan are those of the merchants
and bankers, who under the old regime used to hide their wealth to avoid
taxation.
19. The Japanese Parliament is composed of two Chambers—the House
of Lords, or Peers, to which belong (1) the Princes of the Blood (13);
(2) all the Princes and Marquises (40); (3) such representatives as are
elected for seven years by the Counts, Viscounts, and Barons (123);
(4) members who are nominated for life by the Emperor (100); (5) members
elected, one for each department, and selected from among the fifteen more
important personages of the department over thirty years of age (45). The
Chamber of Deputies is composed of 300 members, one for every 128,000
inhabitants, and is elected by all Japanese subjects over twenty-five years
of age who have resided in an electoral district for a term of twelve months,
and who pay 30s. direct taxes. To be elected, the candidate must be over
thirty years of age and fulfil the same conditions as above. The heads of
noble families can neither be electors nor elected to the Lower Chamber.
In 1895 there were 467,887 voters (11 per 1,000 inhabitants), and in all
517,130 persons (12 per 1,000), paying more than 30s. direct taxes.
Among the first class there were 21,070, and among the second class 25,405
shizoku, or ancient samurai, from which fact we may take it for granted
that there are fewer rich men among the ancient samurai than among the
rest of the population. As to the nobles, so-called kwazoku, at least a third
of the heads of noble families pay less than 30s. The proportion of shizoku
among those having the right of vote is less than 5 per cent.
20. In normal times, before the exceptional augmentation of the effective
resulting from the events of 1898, England had in the Far East only
twenty-six vessels, and even now her fleet is still inferior to that of Japan.
21. At the present time the Russian troops in Manchuria and the Lower
Amur do not exceed 60,000 men.
22. ‘Politics and Peoples of the Far East.’ London: Fisher Unwin.
1895.
23. The population of China has been very variously estimated. There
exist official statistics, but the question is, what faith can be placed in
them? The ‘Statesman’s Year Book,’ which is generally well informed,
returns 383,000,000 for China Proper, and 402,000,000 for the entire
Empire. Some travellers, however, are of opinion that these figures should
be greatly modified, and hold that the correct medium is between
200,000,000 and 250,000,000, because the mountainous regions are very
thinly populated, and travellers erroneously form an opinion from the condition
of the valleys through which they pass, which are generally densely
populated.
24. Quoted by Mr. Henry Norman, ‘Peoples and Politics of the Far East.’
25. The admirable and even gallant conduct of the Chinese Regiment from
Wei-hai-wei under its British officers in the recent severe fighting about
Tien-tsin affords a striking confirmation of M. Leroy-Beaulieu’s words.—H.N.
26. The following is the list of the Treaty Ports: To the north of the
Blue River, Niu-chwang, Tien-tsin, Chefoo, and near the mouth of the river
Shanghai and its annex, Wusung. On the Yang-tsze-Kiang: Chin-Kiang,
Nanking, Wuhu, Kiu-kiang, Sha-shi, Hankow, It-chang, Chung-king—in
all eight river stations, of which Nanking is not really ‘open,’ although
mentioned in the French treaty of Tien-tsin. Not far from Shanghai is
Suchow, on the inland canals. On the coast south of the Blue River are
Hangchow, Ning-po, Wenchow, Foochow, Amoy, Swatow. At the mouth
of the West River is Canton, and higher up the river Samshui, Wuchow,
and since the spring of 1899 Nanning-fu. On the Gulf of Tongking: Pakhui,
and in the island of Hainan, Hoi-how. The open towns on the frontier of
Indo-China are: Lung-chau, Mongtse, Ho Kau, Szemao, Tchoun-ning-fu,
and a sixth, Tong-hing, is not as yet occupied. The open ports were in
1842, according to the Treaty of Nanking, only five in number, but were
increased by the treaty of Tien-tsin to nineteen; others were opened by
the treaty of Shimonosaki in 1895, and by the convention with England
signed in 1897. A more recent treaty with this Power (1898) promises, but
without fixed date, however, the opening of three new ports: Kin-chau in
Manchuria, Fu-ning in Fo-kien, and Yo-chau in Hu-nan (opened in
December, 1899).
27. The story of the improper salute was a newspaper fiction. No
foundation for it has ever been adduced. The ‘threats’ after the sinking
of the Kow-Shing were wholly unofficial, and the matter was referred to
arbitration by the two Governments.—H. N.
28. It is to be regretted that the author does not give the name of the
newspaper in which he read this ludicrous utterance; we should doubtless
then see that it is far from representative of British opinion.—H. N.
29. M. Leroy-Beaulieu cannot seriously believe that the independence of
China is threatened by Great Britain. British policy is, as it always has
been, to maintain her independence by every means.—H. N.
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE
Silently corrected typographical errors and variations in spelling.
Anachronistic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings retained as printed.
Footnotes have been re-indexed using numbers and collected together at the end of the
last chapter.