CHAPTER XXXI.

THE COLLAPSE.

China clings to universal sovereignty--Demonstration of same towards Korea--Irritating to Japanese--Their aspirations in Korea--Insurrection in southern districts--Chinese troops sent there--Japanese simultaneously occupy Korean capital--War between China and Japan--China defeated--Causes and consequences--General sympathy with Japan.

We have seen that up to the end of 1892 the Chinese Government clung to the figment of universal sovereignty. Perhaps it was the figment that clung to them, they not knowing how to drop it. When they had, under stress, seemed to concede the principle of equality, it was not done heartily, but to serve a momentary purpose. Like a belligerent who continues a guerilla warfare after concluding peace, they fought inch by inch for the rags of the old prerogative after having by treaty surrendered it. It had been long predicted that their refusal or inability to bring their theories into agreement with patent facts, and to come into line with the Powers of the world, must lead to tragic consequences. Foreign nations laughed at the Chinese pretension as an innocent archaic survival. But those individuals to whose lot it fell, in their own persons, to suffer the continued humiliation which was a consequence of the survival, did not find the comedy of the situation quite so congenial. The high-spirited nation living in the closest neighbourhood to China, using its language and literature, was naturally more galled by the Chinese assumption than those distant peoples who only suffered in the persons of their diplomatic agents. Though it would be more than the evidence warrants to say that the pretension of the Chinese Government was directly provocative of the events of 1894, yet it is certain that it had a full share in filling the cup. Nowhere had the Chinese conception of supremacy been exemplified in a more uncompromising form than in her relations with Korea. Her position as suzerain was a reality. She had in times past defended her tributary at great cost, had marked the relationship by permanent monuments, and had maintained the rites necessary to keep her title alive. As late as 1890 the tributary formalities were repeated conspicuously before the world. In that year the "Grand" Queen-Dowager Chao of Korea died. According to custom the king despatched a messenger to Peking to report the death to his suzerain. The envoy presented his papers kneeling before the vice-president of the Board of Rites. He was the bearer of a petition from the king descanting on the miseries of his country, and expressing regret that, owing to the straitened circumstances of his Court, he might be unable to carry out all the ceremonies required for the entertainment of the usual mission of condolence from the emperor; therefore, as "an infant trusting to the tender mercies of his parents," the king begged that not a mission, but a message only, might be returned to him by the hands of his own envoy. The imperial decree in reply to this petition, while admitting the facts of the situation as set forth by the king, nevertheless announced that the customary usage must be maintained, only an important concession would be made to the poverty of Korea in the route which would be followed by the new mission. Previous envoys had made the whole journey between the two capitals by land, and after entering Korean territory they had to pass many stations in their slow march to the capital, involving much expense to the country through which they travelled. All this would be saved on the present occasion by the two commissioners travelling by sea, and landing at Chemulpo, a few miles only from the capital. The king had to submit to the modified burden, if such he really considered it. The ceremonies observed were elaborate and impressive. Frequent prostrations by Korean officials before the emperor's tablet, and before the Imperial Commissioners, introduced the proceedings; afterwards the king was taken charge of by the Chinese master of ceremonies, led through a complicated ritual, and told to bend, kneel, _kotow_, and stand erect at so many different stages that the mere reading of the official account of them is bewildering. The reporter's conclusion gives the gist of the whole ceremonial from the Chinese point of view: "The emperor's consideration for his vassal State as evinced by his thoughtfulness in matters pertaining to the mission is fathomless. How admirable and satisfactory! And how glorious!"

All this was unexceptionably correct, and in its fantastic way expressed an actuality not to be contested. Yet to the Japanese, with their antagonistic policy, we can well understand that this renewed assertion of the Chinese suzerainty, after the convention of 1885, must have been highly irritating. Scarcely less so was the superior position habitually assigned to the Chinese Resident over all the other foreign representatives at the Korean Court. He alone at all times had the ear of the king; he was the only one privileged to enter the palace in his sedan chair, the others having to leave theirs at the gate and walk. While abstaining from interference in small things, the Chinese Resident did, in fact, direct the national policy of Korea so far as such a thing could be said to exist.

As the affairs of Korea formed the occasion, if not the cause, of the Japanese War in 1894, it might seem desirable to refer once more to the troubles and misgovernment of that country. To explain them would be quite impossible, for to say that there are wheels within wheels, intrigue within intrigue, the whole revolving round a pivot of sordid corruption, is perhaps the only general account that can be given of the state of the Government and of its official hierarchy. But the conflict between China and Japan held on its way through the labyrinth of local intrigue, and eventually produced a result which, strange to say, seems never to have been anticipated by any one outside the Government circles of Japan. The energetic Chinese Resident at the Korean Court may perhaps have been needlessly ostentatious in asserting the legitimate paramountcy of China, but the aggression of the Japanese in various parts of the country, and the extravagant claims they founded upon these aggressions, really called for a champion of Korean independence, a function which Yuan Shih-kai[32] filled with considerable ability. The subordination of Korea to China was nowhere visible except in Court relations. The subjugation of the peninsula by the Japanese, on the other hand, was rapidly bringing the population itself into bondage to alien merchants, adventurers, and usurers, actively supported by their own Government. If they had had the patience to wait a few years, the Japanese must have won Korea by energetic infiltration alone.

But these things did not move fast enough for the settled ambition of Japan, which she with diligence, unanimity, and wonderful secrecy determined to develop by force of arms. It would be idle to seek for the causes of the war elsewhere than in this forward national policy of Japan. Alert as she had been to seize every chance that offered of detaching Korea from her allegiance to China, her preparations were not sufficiently complete to justify her unmasking her whole policy until 1894, when the grand opportunity for which she had been waiting, if she did not actively assist in bringing it about, presented itself. What proved to be an ill-advised interference of China in the internal affairs of Korea furnished the occasion. An insurrection had broken out in the southern part of the peninsula, and the king had no forces to put it down. Various versions had been circulated of the extent and character of the insurrection; but when it had continued for some time, and nothing was done to check it, the advisers of the Chinese Government became apprehensive of interference by some foreign Power for the restoration of order. Strangely enough, Japan was the very last quarter from which this danger was anticipated. The Chinese at length summoned resolution to send a force to the king's assistance to put down the insurrection, but whether the king in his heart desired this armed interference it is impossible for us to say.

Li Hung-chang was personally opposed to any such expedition, and when goaded to action from Peking, where the bellicose spirit had been generated, he pointed out that no request had been received from the king. This omission was also remarked upon by the practical Admiral Ting, and both may have hoped that the absence of so important a link in the chain would enable them to avoid the overt action which they had the best grounds for deprecating. Such a hope, if it existed, was of brief duration; for the King of Korea was induced, by influences brought to bear on him, "to place himself in order" and implore his suzerain for assistance, which the suzerain could no longer withhold. Then was Li Hung-chang pressed by that body whose characteristic was the negation of initiative, the Tsungli-Yamên, and like a sluggish horse which once takes the bit in its teeth, the Yamên became as impatient for action as in all its previous history it had been resolute in evasion. When but a few days had elapsed since the issue of the order, and the troops were not yet embarked, the Ministers, quite ignorant of what was involved in sending a military force across the sea, began to jeer Li Hung-chang on his delay, hinting that he was perhaps growing stale with age. The troops were, nevertheless, despatched all too soon. On their landing at Yashan in Southern Korea, the insurrection immediately collapsed: such was the prestige of the imperial authority.

In order to comply with the letter of the Li-Ito convention China notified Japan officially of the despatch of these troops, some 2000 in all, and of the purpose for which they were sent. But Japan had no need to wait for any such formal intimation. She had her Intelligence Department, remarkably alert. Japanese--not perhaps always known as such--were employed in the Chinese official bureaus, even in the most confidential departments, while Japanese in disguise swarmed in all the military centres. The Chinese telegraph service has no secrets from any one who thinks it worth his while to possess them. Consequently every detail of the preparation, every point in the discussion, and every step in embarkation, was punctually telegraphed by the Japanese consul to the Foreign Office in Tokio. Hence it was that Japanese troops arrived in Korea simultaneously with the Chinese, only they numbered 10,000 against 2000, and instead of being assigned to the region of the insurrection, in accordance with the provisions of the Li-Ito convention, they marched straight to the capital and took possession of the king. The insurrection having collapsed, the Chinese troops were under orders of withdrawal, and would have returned home in the same transports that conveyed them to Korea but for the unaccountable, and of course illegitimate, presence of Japanese troops at the capital. Notwithstanding the provocation to retain the Chinese troops in Korea as a counterbalance to those, five times more numerous, which had been sent by Japan, the Chinese authorities were advised by their best friends to recall their troops, even though the Japanese should thereby be apparently left in possession of the field. The Chinese would in that case have maintained an unassailably correct position, and Japan would have had to dispense with her pretexts for war. Evacuation by the Chinese had been actually decided upon, and the steamer Kowshing was chartered for the purpose of bringing back the troops. Before the measure was carried out, however, other counsels prevailed, and that very ship was employed in conveying more troops to reinforce the first expedition, and in the midst of pretended negotiations for an arrangement between the two Powers, the Japanese sank the Kowshing on the high sea with all on board.

It is usual, as a matter of form, if nothing else, to assign some specific cause for a war; but though many able writers have essayed to explain the Japanese action in 1894, they have all of them left the question in greater obscurity than they found it. Nor did the formal declaration of war by the Mikado throw any light on the subject. A Japanese statesman being asked what the war was about, replied bluntly, "It is to defeat China," and the most elaborate exposition of motives or policy does not carry us perceptibly further than this concise and straightforward statement. The Chinese Government itself held precisely the same view as to the object of the war, though its perceptions were so obscured that it was quite unaware of its incapacity for defence. Neither did it during the actual progress of hostilities realise the cause of its defeat. Indeed there is no evidence to show that China has even to this day discovered the secret of her impotence.

The course and immediate consequence of the war itself have been set forth in many books, and are so well known as to render it superfluous to enter into any detail here. A few general points only need be mentioned as a key to what followed.

1. Russia took unusual pains to dissuade Japan from engaging in the war, pointing out in clear terms that her interests would not allow her to be an indifferent spectator of any changes on the continent of Asia.

2. Great Britain next endeavoured to patch up the supposed quarrel--which could never be defined in words--between China and Japan, and on the day on which her agent in Tokio expressed himself confident that the differences, so far as he understood them, would be arranged without recourse to war, the British chartered transport Kowshing was sunk with 1200 men on board.

3. The solution of the question which would have reconciled the views of the four Powers more immediately concerned was the neutralisation of Korea. Great Britain, Russia, and Japan were of one mind on this subject, and China would have hailed such an escape from her chronic embarrassment respecting Korea. Why, then, was no attempt made to bring about such a solution? Want of co-ordination, it would appear; diplomatic paralysis. Though the views of each Power separately ascertained were identical, none of them would speak first, and there was no fifth party to assume the initiative in bringing them to a common understanding. The blame of this must be equally distributed, though in point of fact there were degrees of responsibility which it would be useless now to recall. It is only one example the more of the great gap which often yawns between professional diplomacy and practical politics.

The issue of the war was a foregone conclusion, both by sea and land. China had no army, and the more numerous her levies the more helpless they were before a disciplined enemy. The navy failed precisely where it was expected to fail. It was an incomplete machine, neglected and in disorder, deficient in many essential things. Worst of all, there was no heart in it. Captain Lang, R.N., and other British officers had been expelled from the service through a conspiracy of the captains in 1890, and thenceforth its deterioration became rapid. The efficiency of the navy for its main purpose was the last thing considered by the cabal. They relied absolutely on the diplomatic resources of Li Hung-chang to save them from any possible trial of strength, and refused to face an alternative even by way of argument. Bravery was by no means lacking in the ranks, nor professional education among the officers. There were some who had Nelson's maxims at the tip of their tongue, and there were some who added to a thorough naval training the spirit of devotion which makes heroes. But these qualities were isolated and incoherent; there was no tradition to render them fruitful, no martial spirit, no disgrace for the coward, no honour for the valiant. The fleet was a body, defective enough at that, but without a soul. The minds of the captains being set on quite other objects than the efficiency of their service, when the crisis threatened they were intent only on evading collisions. The valour of the admiral, the fine sense of duty of individual officers, and the fighting qualities of a considerable body of the seamen, were swamped in the prevailing pusillanimity of the service; the choice spirits were discouraged by the fatuous neglect at headquarters to supply the ordinary necessaries of warfare. It was the writer's fortune to make a passage in a Chinese protected cruiser in September 1894, a few days before the great naval action off the Yalu, and it was most pathetic to hear the defects pointed out by the captain and first lieutenant--defects in ammunition for the guns mounted, absence of gun crews, so that in action men would have to be taken from one gun to another and put to work for which they had no training, everywhere the ship spoiled for want of the ha'porth of tar. That particular vessel was not disgraced in the Yalu fight, but was brought into Port Arthur by the superhuman exertions of her officers, her iron deck beams twisted by the fire and her plates red hot. A second conversation with the captain and first lieutenant after the action was but a painful commentary on that of the week before. The one was prediction, the other fulfilment. Perhaps the state of the navy could not be more forcibly illustrated than by the fact that the fleet was led into action at the Yalu by a German military officer.

China was indeed defeated, amid the applause of Europe and the whole world, and the primeval law of violence received a new consecration. This is the one outcome of the war which seems likely to leave a permanent impress on the surface of our civilisation, for the spontaneous outburst from the four corners of the earth cannot be referred to any venal or wire-pulling agency. There had been foreign wars in China before, wars entered upon after long discussion and accumulating causes of quarrel. Their merits divided the opinion of the world--they divided even the nations that waged them; and the opposition was on one occasion strong enough to overturn a British Government that had actually entered into hostilities against China. But in 1894 there was not a dissentient voice. The cause of the war was not known and not inquired into, the universal enthusiasm was simply for the victor, as such, without regard to anything but his military prowess. That was what the world fell down and worshipped. Not any righteous cause, or racial sympathy, or community of interest, inspired their acclamations; for none of these things were considered or understood by the masses who chorussed the triumph of the conqueror of China. English pens and tongues beyond all others urged the victorious Power to make crushing conditions of peace, and in the clamour traditional landmarks were forgotten. The policy of saving China, the great English milch cow, from destruction, which had been patiently followed by Great Britain for forty years, was thus suddenly submerged in a wave of warlike enthusiasm.

Press-made feeling was both stronger and had more influence on the action of Government in England than in any other country. The war had upset the balance of power in Asia, but the press took no heed of that, and urged with conspicuous success that the Japanese should on no account be hindered in their seizure of the spoils. Other countries, keeping a cooler outlook on eventualities, were unable to regard the occupation of Liao-tung by Japanese forces with the equanimity with which it was viewed in England, though they made no objection to the enormous indemnities forced from China, which might indeed be philosophically regarded by them as a tax levied specially on British trade. Being threatened in her weakest frontier by this ambitious military Power, Russia had intimated before war began, in no ambiguous terms, that she could not tolerate such a neighbour, and on the conclusion of peace she took steps to give effect to that resolution. Russia had throughout the war been extremely nervous about the possible action of Great Britain, and would have gone considerable lengths to come to an understanding with her; but towards the end, when the pretensions of the Japanese began to assume extravagant dimensions, their moral effect on the Great Powers enabled her to dispense with English favour by drawing France and Germany to her support. The gravity of the Japanese demands was the factor that drew the three Powers together, and Li Hung-chang, when he went as envoy to Japan in March 1895, assented to the indemnity and the surrender of territory on the assurance given him that the more excessive the conditions of peace he might be forced to sign, the more certain were they to be revised by the intervention of the Powers. The three Powers proved strong enough to induce Japan to give up Liao-tung for an increased indemnity, and the future of the Far East thus was arranged in conferences from which Great Britain had excluded herself. There were several reasons for the abstention of the British Government from taking a share in this settlement. One was the complete failure of their Intelligence Department before, during, and after the war. But the fervour of the nation in deprecating interference with the Japanese was a sufficient, and no doubt a welcome, warrant for the inaction of the Government. An experienced observer of English public life remarked afterwards that he had never known a situation in which the press, metropolitan and provincial, had displayed such entire unanimity and lavished such unmixed praise on the Government for its isolation. And yet it was a unanimity of nescience, of simple abdication, the surrender of a position in the Far East which had been built up for two generations on the permanent interests of the country, and which, sacrificed at the critical moment, is gone beyond recall. The "new diplomacy," uninstructed popular impulse, never had a freer field; for the Government which it dominated was scarcely more enlightened, and decidedly more apathetic, than the nation itself.

FOOTNOTE:

[32] The same who is now governor of Shantung.