[Page 126] CHAPTER XXIII

THE SUNG DYNASTY, 960-1280 A. D. (18 Emperors)

The Five Philosophers—Wang Ngan-shi, Economist—The Kin Tartars—The Southern Sungs—Aid of Mongols Invoked to Drive Out the Kins—Mongols Exterminate Sungs

On the fall of the house of T'ang, a score of factions contended for the succession. During the fifty-three years preceding the establishment of the Sungs, no less than five of them rose to temporary prominence sufficient to admit of being dubbed a "dynasty." Collectively they are spoken of as the "Five Dynasties" (907-960).

Their names are without exception a repetition of those of former dynasties, Liang, T'ang, Ts'in, Han, Chou with the prefix "Later"—suggesting that each claimed to be a lineal successor of some previous imperial family. Their struggles for power, not more instructive than a conflict of gladiators, are so devoid of interest that the half-century covered by them may be passed over as a blank. It may, however, be worth while to remind the reader that as the House of Han was followed by the wars of the "Three Kingdoms," and that of Ts'in by a struggle of North and South under four states, so the House of T'ang was now [Page 127] succeeded by five short-lived "dynasties," with a mean duration of scarcely more than ten years. The numerical progression is curious; but it is more important to notice a historical law which native Chinese writers deduce from those scenes of confusion. They state it in this form: "After long union the empire is sure to be divided; after long disruption it is sure to be reunited."

So deep an impression has this historical generalisation made on the public mind that if the empire were now to be divided between foreign nations, as it has been more than once, the people would confidently expect it to be reintegrated under rulers of their own race.

The undivided Sung dynasty held sway from 960 to 1127; that of the southern Sungs from 1127 to 1280. The founder of the house was Chao-kwang-yun, an able leader of soldiers and an astute politician. So popular was he with his troops that they called him to the throne by acclamation. He was drunk, it is said, when his new dignity was announced, and he had no alternative but to wear the yellow robe that was thrown on his shoulders. Undignified as was his debut, his reign was one continued triumph. After a tenure of seventeen years, he left his successor in possession of nearly the whole of China Proper together with a fatal legacy of lands on the north.

The two main features of the Sung period are the rise of a great school of philosophy and the constant encroachment of the Tartars. The two Chengs being brothers, the names of the five leading philosophers fall into an alliterative line of four syllables, Cheo, [Page 128] Cheng, Chang, Chu. Acute in speculation and patient in research, they succeeded in fixing the interpretation of the sacred books, and in establishing a theory of nature and man from which it is heresy to dissent. The rise of their school marks an intellectual advance as compared with the lettered age of the T'angs. It was an age of daring speculation; but, as constantly happens in China, the authority of these great men was converted into a bondage for posterity. The century in which they flourished (1020-1120) is unique in the history of their country as the age of philosophy. In Europe it was a part of the Dark Ages; and at that time the Western world was convulsed by the Crusades.

The most eminent of the five philosophers was Chu Fu-tse. Not the most original, he collected the best thoughts of all into a system; and his erudition was such that the whole range of literature was his domain. Chu Hi, the Coryphaeus of mediaeval China, stands next in honour after that incomparable pair, Confucius and Mencius. Contemporary with the earlier members of this coterie appeared Wang Ngan-shi, an economist, of rare originality. His leading principle was the absorption by the state of all industrial enterprises—state ownership of land, and in general a paternal system to supersede private initiative. So charming was the picture presented in his book "The Secret of Peace" (still extant) that the Emperor gave him carte blanche to put his theory into practice. In practical life however it was a failure—perhaps because he failed to allow for the strength or weakness of materials and instruments. His book is a Chinese [Page 129] Utopia, nearly akin to those of Plato and Sir John More.

In the northeast beyond the Wall were two Tartar kingdoms, one of which was the Kin or "Golden Horde"—remote ancestors of the Manchu dynasty. A constant menace to the settled population of the "inner land," they obtained possession of Peking in 1118. For a time they were kept at bay by a money payment which reminds one of the Danegeld paid by our forefathers to the sea-robbers of northern Europe. Payments not being punctual, the Tartars occupied portions of the northern provinces, and pushed their way as far south as K'ai-fung-fu, the capital of the Empire. The Emperor retired to Nanking, leaving in command his son, who, unable to resist the Tartars, made a disgraceful peace. A heavy ransom was paid to avert the sacking of the city; and all the region on the north of the Yellow River passed under Tartar sway.

Repenting of their hard bargain, the Chinese provoked a renewal of hostilities, which resulted in a heavier downfall. The capital surrendered after a severe siege, and the Emperor with his court was carried into captivity. The next emperor acknowledged himself a vassal of the Tartars; but peace on such conditions could not be of long duration. An intermittent warfare was kept up for more than a century, in the course of which Nanking was pillaged, and the court fell back successively on Hangchow and Wenchow. When there was no longer a place of safety on the mainland the wretched fugitives sought refuge on an island. Fitting out a fleet the Tartars continued the [Page 130] pursuit; but more used to horses than ships, the fleet was annihilated, and the expiring dynasty obtained a new lease of life.

This was about 1228. The Mongols under Genghis Khan and his successors had carried everything before them in the northwest. Thirsting for revenge, the Chinese appealed for aid to this new power—and the Mongols found an opportunity to bag two birds instead of one. As a Chinese fable puts it: "A sea-bird failing to make a breakfast on a shellfish was held in its grip until a fisherman captured both."

The Kins were driven back into Manchuria; and the Chinese without asking leave of their allies reoccupied their old capital. But the revival of the Sungs was no part of the Mongol programme. The Sungs declining to evacuate K'ai-fung-fu and to cede to the Mongols the northern half of the empire, the latter resolved on a war of extermination. After a bitter struggle of fifteen years, the infant emperor and his guardians again committed their fortunes to the sea. The Mongols, more lucky than the other Tartars, were victorious on water as well as on land; and the last scion of the imperial house drowned himself to escape their fury (1280).



[Page 131] CHAPTER XXIV

THE YUEN OR MONGOL DYNASTY, 1280-1368 (10 Emperors)

Kublai Khan—First Intercourse of China with Europe—Marco Polo—The Grand Canal

Parts of China had been frequently overrun by foreign conquerors; but the Mongols were the first to extend their sway over the whole country. The subjugation of China was the work of Kublai, grandson of Genghis, who came to the throne in 1260, inheriting an empire more extensive than Alexander or Caesar had dreamed of. In 1264 the new khan fixed his court at Peking and proceeded to reduce the provinces to subjection. Exhausted and disunited as they were the task was not difficult, though it took fifteen years to complete. Ambition alone would have been sufficient motive for the conquest, but his hostility was provoked by perfidy—especially by the murder of envoys sent to announce his accession. "Without good faith," says Confucius, "no nation can exist."

By the absorption of China the dominions of Kublai were made richer, if not greater in extent, than those of his grandfather, while the splendour of his court quite eclipsed that of Genghis Khan.

Unknown to the ancient Romans, China was revealed to their mediaeval successors by the Mongol [Page 132] conquest. In 1261 two Venetian merchants, Nicolo and Matteo Polo, made their way to Bokhara, whence, joining an embassy from India, they proceeded to Kublai's capital at Xanadu (or Shangtu) near the site of Peking. They were the first white men the Grand Khan had ever seen, and he seems to have perceived at once that, if not of superior race, they were at least more advanced in civilisation than his own people; for, besides intrusting them with letters to the Pope, he gave them a commission to bring out a hundred Europeans to instruct the Mongols in the arts and sciences of the West.

In 1275 they returned to Peking without other Europeans, but accompanied by Marco Polo, the son of Nicolo. They were received with more honour than on their first visit, and the young man was appointed to several positions of trust in the service of the monarch. After a sojourn of seventeen years, the three Polos obtained permission to join the escort of a Mongol princess who was going to the court of Persia. In Persia they heard of the death of their illustrious patron, and, instead of returning to China, turned their faces homeward, arriving at Venice in 1295.

Having been captured by the Genoese, Marco Polo while in prison dictated his wonderful story. At first it was looked on as a romance and caused its author to receive the sobriquet of "Messer Millione"; but its general accuracy has been fully vindicated.

The chief effect of that narrative was to fire the imagination of another Italian and lead him by steering to the west to seek a short cut to the Eldorado. [Page 133] How strange the occult connection of sublunary things! The Mongol Kublai must be invoked to account for the discovery of America! The same story kindled the fancy of Coleridge, in the following exquisite fragment, which he says came to him in a vision of the night:

"In Xanadu did Kubla Khan A stately pleasure-dome decree: Where Alph, the sacred river, ran Through caverns measureless to man, Down to a sunless sea." —Kubla Khan.

Still another Italian claims mention as having made some impression on the court of Kublai. This was Corvino, a missionary sent by the Pope; but of his church, his schools, and his convents, there were left no more traces than of his predecessors, the Nestorians.

The glory of Kublai was not of long duration. The hardy tribes of the north became enervated by the luxury and ease of their rich patrimony. "Capua captured Hannibal." Nine of the founder's descendants followed him, not one of whom displayed either vigour or statesmanship.

Their power ebbed more suddenly than it rose. Shun-ti, the last of the house, took refuge behind the Great Wall from the rising tide of Chinese patriotism; and after a tenure of ninety years, or of two centuries of fluctuating dominion, reckoning from the rise of Genghis Khan, the Yuen dynasty came to an untimely end.

The magnificent waterway, the Grand Canal, remains an imperishable monument of the Mongol [Page 134] sway. As an "alimentary canal" it was needed for the support of the armies that held the people in subjection; and the Mongols only completed a work which other dynasties had undertaken. A description of it from personal observation is given in Part I of this work (page 31). It remains to be said that the construction of the Canal, like that of the Great Wall, was a leading cause of the downfall of its builders. Forced labour and aggravated taxation gave birth to discontent; rebellion became rife, and the Mongols were too effeminate to take active measures for its suppression.



[Page 135] CHAPTER XXV

THE MING DYNASTY, 1368-1644 A. D. (16 Emperors)

Humble Origin of the Founder—Nanking and Peking as Capital—First Arrival of European Ships—Portuguese, Spaniards, and Dutch Traders—Arrival of Missionaries—Tragic End of the Last of the Mings

Humble as was the origin of the founder of the House of Han, spoken of as Pu-i, "A peasant clothed in homespun," that of the Father of the Mings was still more obscure. A novice or servant (sacrificulus) in a Buddhist monastery, Chu Yuen Chang felt called to deliver his people from oppression. At first regarded as a robber chief, one of many, his rivals submitted to his leadership and the people accepted his protection. Securing possession of Nanking, a city of illustrious memories and strong natural defences, he boldly proclaimed his purpose. After twenty years of blood and strategy, he succeeded in placing the Great Wall between him and the retreating Mongols. Proud of his victory he assumed for the title of his reign Hungwu, "Great Warrior," and chose Ming, "Luminous," for that of his dynasty.

Leaving his son, the Prince of Yen, at Peking, to hold the Tartars in check, Hungwu spent the remaining [Page 136] years of his reign at his original capital, and then left the sceptre to his grandson. The Prince of Yen, uncle of the youthful emperor, feeling the slight implied in his father's choice, raised an army and captured Nanking. A charred corpse being shown to him as that of the emperor, he caused it to be interred with becoming rites, and at once assumed the imperial dignity, choosing for his reigning title Yungloh, "Perpetual Joy." He also removed the seat of government to Peking, where it has remained for five centuries. The "Thesaurus of Yungloh," a digest of Chinese literature so extensive as to form a library in itself, remains a monument to his patronage of letters.

A tragic episode in the history of the Mings was the capture of the next emperor by the Mongols, who, however, failed to take Peking. It was easier to make a new emperor than to ransom the captive. His brother having been proclaimed, the Tartars sent their captive back, hoping that a war between the brothers would weaken their enemy. Retiring into private life he appeared to renounce his claim; but after the death of his brother he once more occupied the throne. What a theme for a romance!

Great Britain was described by a Roman as "almost cut off from the whole world" because it was not accessible by land. China had long been cut off from the Western world because it was not accessible by sea. The way to India was opened by Diaz and Gama in 1498; and the first Portuguese ships appeared at Canton in 1511. Well-treated at first, others came in greater numbers. Their armaments were so formidable as to excite suspicion; and their [Page 137] acts of violence kindled resentment. Under these combined motives a massacre of the foreign traders was perpetrated, and Andrade, a sort of envoy at Peking, was thrown into prison and beheaded. The trading-posts were abolished except at Macao, where the Portuguese obtained a footing by paying an annual rent.

After the Portuguese came the Spaniards, who appear to have been satisfied with the Philippine archipelago, rather than provoke a conflict with the Portuguese. The Chinese they had little reason to dread, as the superiority of their arms would have enabled them to seize portions of the seacoast, though not to conquer the Empire as easily as they did the Mexicans and Peruvians. Perhaps, too, they were debarred by the same authority which divided the Western continent between the two Iberian powers. The Chinese becoming too numerous at Manila, the Spaniards slaughtered them without mercy, as if in retaliation for the blood of their cousins, or taking a hint from the policy of China.

In 1622 the Dutch endeavoured to open trade with China, but their advances being rejected, doubtless through secret opposition from the Portuguese, they seized the Pescadores, and later established themselves on Formosa, whence they were eventually expelled by Koxinga, a Chinese freebooter.

The church founded by Corvino at Peking perished in the overthrow of the Mongols. The Portuguese traders disapproved of missions, as tending to impose restraint on their profligacy and to impart to China the strength that comes from knowledge. The narrow [Page 138] policy of the Mings, moreover, closed the door against the introduction of a foreign creed. Yet it is strange that half a century elapsed before any serious attempt was made to give the Gospel to China. In 1552 St. Francis Xavier, the apostle of the Indies, arrived at Macao. He and his fellow Jesuits were indirect fruits of the Protestant Reformation—belonging to an order organised for the purpose of upholding and extending the power of the Holy See. After wonderful success in India, the Straits, and Japan, Xavier appeared in Chinese waters, but he was not allowed to land. He expired on the island of Shang-chuen or St. John's, exclaiming "O rock, rock, when wilt thou open?"

Ricci, who came in 1580, met with better success: but it cost him twenty years of unceasing effort to effect an entrance to Peking. Careful to avoid giving offence, and courtly in manners, his science proved to be the master-key. Among the eminent men who favoured his mission was Sue of Shanghai, whom he baptised by the name of Paul. Not only did he help Ricci to translate Euclid for a people ignorant of the first elements of geometry, but he boldly came to the defence of missionaries when it was proposed to expel them. His memorial in their favour is one of the best documents in the defence of Christianity. Among the converts to the Christian faith there are no brighter names than Paul Sue and his daughter Candida.

The Ming dynasty compares favourably in point of duration with most of the imperial houses that preceded it; but long before the middle of its third century it began to show signs of decay. In Korea [Page 139] it came into collision with the Japanese, and emerged with more credit than did its successor from a war with the same foe, which began on the same ground three centuries later. In the northeast the Mings were able to hold the Manchus at bay, notwithstanding an occasional foray; but a disease of the heart was sapping the vigour of the dynasty and hastening its doom. Rebellion became rife; and two of the aspirants to the throne made themselves masters of whole provinces. One depopulated Szechuen; the other ravaged Shansi and advanced on Peking. Chungchen, the last of the Mings, realising that all was lost, hanged himself in his garden on the Palatine Hill, after stabbing his daughter, as a last proof of paternal affection (1643).



[Page 140] CHAPTER XXVI

THE TA-TS'ING DYNASTY, 1644—

The Manchus, Invited to Aid in Restoring Order, Seat their Own Princes on the Throne—the Traitor, General Wu San-kwei—Reigns of Shunchi and Kanghi—Spread of Christianity—A Papal Blunder—Yung-cheng Succeeded by Kienlung, who Abdicates Rather than Reign Longer than his Grandfather—Era of Transformation

The Manchus had been preparing for some generations for a descent on China. They had never forgotten that half the Empire had once been in the possession of their forefathers, the Kin Tartars; and after one or two abortive attempts to recover their heritage they settled themselves at Mukden and watched their opportunity. It came with the fall of the Mings.

Wu San-kwei, a Chinese general whose duty it was to keep them in bounds, threw open the gate of the Great Wall and invoked their assistance to expel the successful rebel. His family had been slaughtered in the fall of the capital; he thirsted for revenge, and without doubt indulged the hope of founding a dynasty. The Manchus agreed to his terms, and, combining their forces with his, advanced on Peking. Feeling himself unable to hold the city, the rebel chief burnt [Page 141] his palace and retreated, after enjoying the imperial dignity ten days.

General Wu offered to pay off his mercenaries and asked them to retire beyond the Wall. Smiling at his simplicity, they coolly replied that it was for him to retire or to enter their service. It was the old story of the ass and the stag. An ass easily drove a stag from his pasture-ground by taking a man on his back; but the man remained in the saddle. Forced to submit, the General employed his forces to bring his people into subjection to their hereditary enemy. Rewarded with princely rank, and shielded by the reigning house, he has escaped the infamy which he deserved at the hands of the historians. A traitor to his country, he was also a traitor to his new masters. He died in a vain attempt at counter-revolution.

The new dynasty began with Shunchi, a child of six years, his uncle the Prince Hwai acting as regent. Able and devoted, this great man, whom the Manchus call Amawang, acquitted himself of his task in a manner worthy of the model regent, the Duke of Chou. His task was not an easy one. He had to suppress contending factions, to conciliate a hostile populace, and to capture many cities which refused to submit. In seven years he effected the subjugation of the eighteen provinces, everywhere imposing the tonsure and the "pigtail" as badges of subjection. Many a myriad of the Chinese forfeited their heads by refusing to sacrifice their glossy locks; but the conquest was speedy, and possession secure.

The success of the Manchus was largely due to the fact that they found the empire exhausted by internal [Page 142] strife and came as deliverers. The odium of overturning the Ming dynasty did not rest on them. While at Mukden they had cultivated the language and letters of the "Inner land" and they had before them, for guidance or warning, the history of former conquests.

They have improved on their predecessors, whether Kins or Mongols; and with all their faults they have given to China a better government than any of her native dynasties.

Shunchi (1644-1662) passed off the stage at the age of twenty-four and left the throne to a son, Kanghi (1662-1723), who became the greatest monarch in the history of the Empire. During his long reign of sixty-one years, Kanghi maintained order in his wide domain, corrected abuses in administration, and promoted education for both nationalities. It is notable that the most complete dictionary of the Chinese language bears the imprimatur of Kanghi, a Tartar sovereign.

For his fame in the foreign world, Kanghi is largely indebted to the learned missionaries who enjoyed his patronage, though he took care to distinguish between them and their religion. The latter had been proscribed by the regents, who exercised supreme power during his minority. Their decree was never revoked; and persecution went on in the provinces, without the least interference from the Emperor. Still his patronage of missionaries was not without influence on the status of Christianity in his dominions. It gained ground, and before the close of his reign it had a following of over three hundred thousand converts. Near the close of his reign he pointedly condemned [Page 143] the foreign faith, and commanded the expulsion of its propagators, except a few, who were required in the Board of Astronomy.

The favourable impression made by Ricci had been deepened by Schaal and Verbiest. The former under Shunchi reformed the calendar and obtained the presidency of the Astronomical Board. He also cast cannon to aid the Manchu conquest. The latter did both for Kanghi, and filled the same high post. Schaal employed his influence to procure the building of two churches in Peking. Verbiest made use of his to spread the faith in the provinces. The Church might perhaps have gained a complete victory, had not dissensions arisen within her own ranks. Dominicans and Franciscans entering the field denounced their forerunners for having tolerated heathen rites and accepted heathen names for God. After prolonged discussions and contradictory decrees the final verdict went against the Jesuits. In this decision the Holy See seems not to have been guided by infallible wisdom.

Kanghi, whose opinion had been requested by the Jesuits, asserted that by Tien and Shang-ti the Chinese mean the Ruler of the Universe, and that the worship of Confucius and of ancestors is not idolatry, but a state or family ceremony. By deciding against his views, the Pope committed the blunder of alienating a great monarch, who might have been won by a liberal policy. The prohibition of the cult of ancestors—less objectionable in itself than the worship of saints—had the effect of arming every household against a faith that aimed to subvert their family altars. The dethronement of Shang-ti (a name accepted by [Page 144] most Protestant missionaries) and the substitution of Tien Chu, could not fail to shock the best feelings of devout people. Tien Chu, if not a new coinage, was given by papal fiat an artificial value, equivalent to "Lord of all"—whereas it had previously headed a list of divisional deities, such as Lord of Heaven, Lord of Earth, Lord of the Sea, etc.

What wonder that for two centuries Christianity continued to be a prohibited creed! The ground thus lost by a papal blunder it has never regained. The acceptance of Tien and Shang-ti by Protestants might perhaps do something to retrieve the situation, if backed by some form of respect for ancestors.

Kanghi was succeeded by his son Yungcheng (1722-1736), who was followed by Kienlung (1736-1796), during whose reign the dynasty reached the acme of splendour. Under Kienlung, Turkestan was added to the empire. The Grand Lama of Tibet was also enrolled as a feudatory; but he never accepted the laws of China, and no doubt considered himself repaid by spiritual homage. No territory has since been added, and none lost, if we except the cession of Formosa to Japan and of Hong Kong to Great Britain. The cessions of seaports to other powers are considered as temporary leases.

After a magnificent reign of sixty years, Kienlung abdicated in favour of his fifth son, Kiak'ing, for the whimsical reason that he did not wish to reign longer than his grandfather. In Chinese eyes this was sublime. Why did they not enact a law that no man should surpass the longevity of his father?

As to Kiak'ing, who occupied the throne for twenty-four [Page 145] years, weak and dissolute is a summary of his character.

The next four reigns came under the influence of new forces. They belong to the era of transformation, and may properly be reserved for Part III.



[Page 147] PART III

CHINA IN TRANSFORMATION



[Page 149] CHAPTER XXVII

THE OPENING OF CHINA, A DRAMA IN FIVE ACTS—GOD IN HISTORY

Prologue—Act 1, the Opium War—(Note on the Taiping Rebellion)—Act 2, the "Arrow" War—Act 3, War with France—Act 4, War with Japan—Act 5, the Boxer War

PROLOGUE

If one were asked to name the most important three events that took place in Asia in the last century, he could have no hesitation in pointing to the extension of the Indian Empire and the renovation of Japan as two of them. But where would he look for the third? Possibly to some upheaval in Turkey, Persia, or Asiatic Russia. In my opinion, however, China is the only country whose history supplies the solution of the problem. The opening of that colossal empire to unrestricted intercourse with other countries was not a gradual evolution from within—it was the result of a series of collisions between the conservatism of the extreme Orient and the progressive spirit of the Western world.

Each of those collisions culminated in a war, giving rise to a cloud of ephemeral literature, in which a student might easily lose his way, and which it would [Page 150] require the lifetime of an antediluvian to exhaust. I think, therefore, that I shall do my readers a service if I set before them a concise outline of each of those wars, together with an account of its causes and consequences. Not only will this put them on their guard against misleading statements; it will also furnish them with a syllabus of the modern history of China in relation to her intercourse with other nations.

During the past seven decades the Chinese Empire has been no less than five times in conflict with foreign powers; and on each occasion her policy has undergone a modification more or less extensive. Taking these five conflicts seriatim—without touching on those internal commotions whose rise and fall resembles the tides of the ocean—I shall ask my readers to think of the Flowery Land as a stage on which, within the memory of men now living, a tragedy in five acts has been performed. Its subject was the Opening of China; and its first act was the so-called Opium War (1839-42). Prior to 1839 the Central Empire, as the Chinese proudly call their country, with a population nearly equal to that of Europe and America combined, was hermetically sealed against foreign intercourse, except at one point, viz., the "Factories" at Canton.

This state of things is depicted with a few masterstrokes in a popular work in Chinese entitled "Strange Stories of an Idle Student." The first of these tales describes a traveller meeting in the mountains an old man, in the costume of a former dynasty, whose family had there sought a refuge from the anarchy that preceded the fall of the imperial house. This [Page 151] old fellow had not even heard of the accession of the Manchu conquerors; and though he was eager for information, he disappeared without giving any clue to the Sleepy Hollow in which he was hiding. The author no doubt intended a quiet satire on the seclusion of China, that had nothing to ask of the outside world but to be let alone.

Another of the sketches, which is no satire, but a cautionary hint—perhaps an unconscious prophecy—is entitled "The Magic Carpet of the Red-haired," a vulgar designation for Europeans, in contrast with the Chinese, who style themselves the "Black-haired race." During the former dynasty, it says, a ship arrived from some unknown country, and those aboard desired to engage in commerce. Their request was refused; but when they asked permission to dry their goods on shore, requiring for that purpose no more ground than they could cover with a carpet, their petition was readily granted. The carpet was spread, and the goods were exposed to the sun; then, taking the carpet by its four corners, they stretched it so that it covered several acres. A large body of armed men then planted themselves on it, and striking out in every direction took possession of the country. This elastic carpet reminds one of Dido's bull's hide, which covered space enough for the foundation of Carthage.

ACT 1. THE OPIUM WAR, 1839-1842

The Tartars, who began their conquest in 1644, were naturally suspicious of other foreigners who had secured a foothold in India, where the Great Mogul, a scion [Page 152] of their own race, still held nominal sway. The trading-posts, which the Chinese emperors had permitted foreigners to open as far north as Ningpo, were closed, and only one point of tangency was allowed to remain—the above-mentioned Factories at Canton, a spot, as we shall see, large enough to admit of the spreading of a "magic carpet." Foreign trade was at that time insignificant, in comparison with the enormous expansion which it has now attained. It was mainly in the hands of the British, as it still continues to be; and no small part of it consisted in opium from the poppy-fields of India. Though under the ban of prohibition, this drug was smuggled into every bay and inlet, with scarcely a pretence of concealment. With the introduction of the vicious opium habit the British had nothing to do; but they contrived to turn it to good account.

The Emperor Tao Kwang, moved, it is said, by the unhappy fate of one of his sons who had fallen a victim to the seductive poison, resolved at all hazards to put a stop to a traffic so ruinous to his people. Commissioner Lin, a native of Foochow, was transferred from the viceroyalty of Wuchang to that of Canton and clothed with plenary powers for the execution of this decree. To understand the manner in which he undertook to execute the will of his master it must be remembered that diplomatic intercourse had as yet no existence in China, because she considered herself as sustaining to foreign nations no other relation than that of a suzerain to a vassal. Her mandarins scorned to hold direct communication with any of the superintendents of foreign commerce—receiving [Page 153] petitions and sending mandates through the hong merchants, thirteen native firms which had purchased a monopoly of foreign trade.

In 1834 Lord Napier was appointed to the humble position of superintendent of British trade in China, He arrived at Macao on July 15 of that year, and announced his appointment by a letter to the prefect, which was handed for transmission to the commander of the city gate of Canton—a barrier which no foreigner was permitted to pass. The letter was returned through the brokers without any answer other than a line on the cover informing the "barbarian eye" (consul) that the document was "tossed back" because it was not superscribed with the character pin (or ping), which signifies a "humble petition."

This was the beginning of sorrows for China as well as for poor Napier, who, failing in his efforts to communicate with the mandarins on equal terms, retired to the Portuguese settlement of Macao and died of disappointment. The eminent American statesman, John Quincy Adams, speaking in later years of the war that ensued, declared that its cause was not opium but a pin, i. e., an insolent assumption of superiority on the part of China.

The irrepressible conflict provoked by these indignities was precipitated in 1839 by the action of the new viceroy, who undertook to effect a summary suppression of the traffic in opium. One morning shortly after his arrival, the foreigners at Canton, who were always locked up at night for their own safety, awoke to find themselves surrounded by a body of soldiers and threatened with indiscriminate [Page 154] slaughter unless they surrendered the obnoxious drug, stored on their opium hulks, at an anchorage outside the harbour.

While they were debating as to what action to take, Captain Charles Elliot, the new superintendent, came up from Macao and bravely insisted on sharing the duress of his countrymen. Calling the merchants together he requested them to surrender their opium to him, to be used in the service of the Queen as a ransom for the lives of her subjects, assuring them that Her Majesty's Government would take care that they should be properly indemnified. Twenty thousand chests of opium were handed over to the viceroy (who destroyed the drug by mixing it with quicklime in huge vats); and the prisoners were set at liberty.

The viceroy fondly imagined that the incident was closed, and flattered himself that he had gained an easier victory than he could have done by sending his junks against the armed ships of the smugglers. Little did he suspect that he had lighted a slow-match, that would blow up the walls of his own fortress and place the throne itself at the mercy of the "barbarian."

A strong force was despatched to China to exact an indemnity, for which the honour of the Crown had been pledged, and to punish the Chinese for the cut-throat fashion in which they had sought to suppress a prohibited trade. The proud city of Canton averted a bombardment by paying a ransom of $6,000,000; islands and seaports were occupied by British troops as far north as the River Yang-tse; and Nanking, the ancient capital, was only saved from falling into their [Page 155] hands by the acceptance of such conditions of peace as Sir Henry Pottinger saw fit to impose.

Those conditions were astonishingly moderate for a conqueror who, unembarrassed by the interests of other powers, might have taken the whole empire. They were, besides payment for the destroyed drug, the opening of five ports to British trade, and the cession to Great Britain of Hong Kong, a rocky islet which was then the abode of fishermen and pirates, but which to-day claims to outrank all the seaports of the world in the amount of its tonnage. Not a word, be it noted, about opening up the vast interior, not a syllable in favour of legalising the opium traffic, or tolerating Christianity.

So much for the charge that this war, which bears a malodorous name, was waged for the purpose of compelling China to submit to the continuance of an immoral traffic. That a smuggling trade would go on with impunity was no doubt foreseen and reckoned on by interested parties; but it is morally certain that if the Chinese had understood how to deal with it they might have rid themselves of the incubus without provoking the discharge of another shot.

Here ends the first act, in 1842; and in it I may claim a personal interest from the fact that my attention was first turned to China as a mission field by the boom of British cannon in the Opium War.

China was not opened; but five gates were set ajar against her will. For that she has to thank the pride and ignorance of emperor and viceroy which betrayed them into the blunder of dealing with British merchants as a policeman deals with pickpockets. For the first [Page 156] time in her history she was made aware of the existence of nations with which she would have to communicate on a footing of equality.

The moderation and forbearance of Pottinger in refraining from demanding larger concessions, and in leaving the full consequences of this war to be unfolded by the progress of time, may fairly challenge comparison with the politic procedure of Commodore Perry in dealing with Japan in 1854. One may ask, too, would Japan have come to terms so readily if she had not seen her huge neighbour bowing to superior force?

* * * * *

An important consequence of the Opium War was the outbreak of rebellions in different parts of the Empire. The prestige of the Tartars was in the dust. Hitherto deemed invincible, they had been beaten by a handful of foreigners. Was not this a sure sign that their divine commission had been withdrawn by the Court of Heaven? If so, might it not be possible to wrest the sceptre from their feeble grasp, and emancipate the Chinese race?

Private ambition was kindled at the prospect, and patriotism was invoked to induce the people to make common cause. Three parties entered the field: the Tai-pings of the South, the "Red-haired" on the seacoast, and the Nienfi in the north. Neither of the latter two deserves notice; but the first-named made for themselves a place in history which one is [Page 157] not at liberty to ignore, even if their story were less romantic than it is. It will be convenient to introduce here the following note on the Tai-ping rebellion.

THE TAI-PING REBELLION

In 1847 a young man of good education and pleasing manners, named Hung Siu-tsuen, presented himself at the American Baptist mission in Canton, saying he had seen their sacred book and desired instruction. This he received from the Rev. Issachar Roberts; and he was duly enrolled as a catechumen. Without receiving the sealing ordinance, or taking his instructor into confidence, Siu-tsuen returned to his home at Hwa-hien and began to propagate his new creed. His talents and zeal won adherents, whom he organised into a society called Shang-ti-hwui, "the Church of the supreme God." Persecution transformed it into a political party, to which multitudes were attracted by a variety of motives.

Following the early Church, in the absence of any modern model, his converts expected and received spiritual gifts. Shall we describe such manifestations as hysteria, hypnotism, or hypocrisy? Their fanaticism was contagious, especially after their flight to the mountains of Kwangsi. There Siu-tsuen boldly raised the flag of rebellion and proclaimed that he had a divine call to restore the throne to the Chinese race, and to deliver the people from the curse of idolatry. In this twofold crusade he was ably seconded by one Yang, who possessed all the qualities of a successful hierophant. Shrewd and calculating, Yang was able [Page 158] at will to bring on cataleptic fits, during which his utterances passed for the words of the Holy Ghost.

The new empire which they were trying to establish, they called Tai-ping Tien-kwoh, "The Kingdom of Heaven and the reign of peace." Hung was emperor, to be saluted with Wansue! (Japanese, Banzai!) "10,000 years!" Yang as prince-premier was saluted with "9,000 years," nine-tenths of a banzai. He was the medium of communication with the Court of Heaven; and all their greater movements were made by command of Shang-ti, the Supreme Ruler.

On one occasion Yang went into a trance and declared that Shang-ti was displeased by something done by his chief, and required the latter to receive a castigation on his naked shoulders. The chief submitted, whether from credulity or from policy it might not be easy to say; but thereby the faith of his followers seems to have been confirmed rather than shaken. Nor did Yang take advantage of his chief's disgrace to usurp his place or to treat him as a puppet.

Through Yang it was revealed that they were to leave their mountain fortress and strike for Nanking, which had been made the capital on the expulsion of the Mongols, and which was destined to enjoy the same dignity on the overthrow of the Manchus. That programme, one of unexampled daring, was promptly put into execution. Descending into the plains of Hunan, like a mountain torrent they swept everything before them and began their march towards the central stronghold fifteen hundred miles distant. Striking the "Great River" at Hankow, they pillaged [Page 159] the three rich cities Wuchang, Hanyang, and Hankow, and, seizing all the junks, committed themselves to its current without a doubt as to the issue of their voyage.

Nanking was carried by assault despite the alleged impregnability of its ramparts, and despite also a garrison of 25,000 Manchus. These last must have fought with the fury of despair; for they well knew what fate awaited them. Not one was spared to tell the tale—this was in 1853. There the Tai-pings held their ground for ten years; and it is safe to affirm that without the aid of foreign missionaries they never would have been dislodged.

The second part of their enterprise—the expulsion of the Manchus from Peking—ended in defeat. A strong detachment was sent north by way of the Grand Canal. At first they met with great success—no town or city was able to check their progress, which resembled Napoleon's invasion of Russia. At the beginning of winter they were met by a strong force under the Mongol prince Sengkolinsin; then came the more dreaded generals—January and February. Unable to make headway, they went into winter quarters, and committed the blunder of dividing themselves between two towns, where they were besieged and cut off in detail.

In the meantime the eyes of the world were turned toward Nanking. Ships of war were sent to reconnoitre and Consul T. T. Meadows, who accompanied the Hermes, made a report full of sympathy; but the failure of their expedition to the north deterred the nation from any formal recognition of the Tai-ping government.

[Page 160] Missionaries were attracted by their profession of Christianity. Among others, I made an unsuccessful attempt to reach them. Unable to induce my boatmen to run the blockade, I returned home and took up the pen in their defence. My letters were well received, but they did not prevent soldiers of fortune, like the American Frederick G. Ward and Colonel Gordon of the British army, throwing their swords into the scale.

Two Sabbatarians hearing that the rebels observed Saturday for their day of rest, posted off to confirm them in that ancient usage. Learning at an outpost that the seeming agreement with their own practice grew out of a mistake in reckoning, they did not continue their journey.

A missionary who actually penetrated to the rebel headquarters was the Rev. Issachar Roberts, the first instructor of the rebel chief. The latter had sent him a message inviting him to court. His stay was not long. He found that his quondam disciple had substituted a new mode of baptism, neither sprinkling nor immersion, but washing the pit of the stomach with a towel dipped in warm water! Who says the Chinese are not original? It is probable that Roberts's dispute lay deeper than a mere ceremony. Professing a New Testament creed, the rebel chief shaped his practice on Old Testament examples—killing men as ruthlessly as David, and, like Solomon, filling his harem with women. A remonstrance on either head was certain to bring danger; it was said indeed that Roberts's life was threatened.

Some queer titles were adopted by the Tai-pings. [Page 161] As stated above, the premier was styled "Father of 9,000 years"; other princes had to content themselves with 7,000, 6,000, etc.—or seven-tenths and six-tenths of a "Live forever!" Christ was the "Heavenly Elder Brother"; and the chief called himself "Younger Brother of Jesus Christ." These designations might excite a smile; but when he called Yang, his adviser, the "Holy Ghost," one felt like stopping one's ears, as did the Hebrews of old. The loose morals of the Tai-pings and their travesty of sacred things horrified the Christian world; and Gordon no doubt felt that he was doing God a service in breaking up a horde of blasphemers and blackguards.

Gordon's victory won an earldom for Li Hung Chang; but the Chinese conferred no posthumous honours on Gordon as they did on Ward, who has a temple and is reckoned among the gods of the empire.

The Tai-pings were commonly called Changmao, "long-haired" rebels, because they rejected the tonsure and "pigtail" as marks of subjection. They printed at Nanking, by what they called "Imperial authority," an edition of the Holy Scriptures. At one time Lord Elgin, disgusted by the conduct of the Peking Government, proposed to make terms with the court at Nanking. The French minister refused to cooeperate, partly because the rebels had not been careful to distinguish between the images in Roman Catholic chapels and those in pagan temples, but chiefly from an objection to the ascendency of Protestant influence, coupled with a fear of losing the power that comes from a protectorate of Roman Catholic missions. How different would have been [Page 162] the future of China had the allied powers backed up the Tai-pings against the Manchus!

* * * * *

ACT 2. THE "ARROW" WAR, 1857-1860

Of the second act in this grand drama on the world's wide stage, a vessel, named the Arrow, was, like opium in the former conflict, the occasion, not the cause. The cause was, as before, pride and ignorance on the part of the Chinese, though the British are not to be altogether exonerated. Their flag was compromised; and they sought to protect it. Fifteen years of profitable commerce had passed, during which China had been a double gainer, receiving light and experience in addition to less valuable commodities, when Viceroy Yeh seized the lorcha Arrow, on a charge of piracy. Though owned by Chinese, she was registered in Hong Kong, and sailed under the British flag. Had the viceroy handed her over to a British court for trial, justice would no doubt have been done to the delinquents, and the two nations would not have been embroiled; but, haughty as well as hasty, the viceroy declined to admit that the British Government had any right to interfere with his proceedings. Unfortunately (or fortunately) British interests at Canton were in the hands of Consul Parkes, afterward Sir Harry Parkes, the renowned plenipotentiary at Peking and Tokio.

Sir John Bowring was governor of Hong Kong, with the oversight of British interests in the Empire. A gifted poet, and an enthusiastic advocate of universal peace, he was a man who might be counted on, if in [Page 163] the power of man, to hold the dogs of war in leash. But he, too, had been consul at Canton and he knew by experience the quagmire in which the best intentions were liable to be swamped.

Parkes, whom I came to know as Her Britannic Majesty's minister in Peking, was the soul of honour, as upright as any man who walked the earth. But with all his rectitude, he, like the Viceroy Yeh, was irascible and unyielding. When the viceroy refused his demand for the rendition of the Arrow and her crew, he menaced him with the weight of the lion's paw. Alarmed, but not cowed, the viceroy sent the prisoners in fetters to the consulate, instead of replacing them on board their ship; nor did he vouchsafe a word of courtesy or apology. Parkes, too fiery to overlook such contemptuous informality, sent them back, much as a football is kicked from one to another; and the viceroy, incensed beyond measure, ordered their heads to be chopped off without a trial.

Here was a Gordian knot, which nothing but the sword could loose. War was provoked as before by the rashness of a viceroy. The peace-loving governor did not choose to swallow the affront to his country, nor did the occupant of the Dragon Throne deign to interfere; looking on the situation with the same sublime indifference with which the King of Persia regarded the warlike preparations of the younger Cyrus, when he supposed, as Xenophon tells us, that he was only going to fight out a feud with a neighbouring satrap. How could China be opened; how was a stable equilibrium possible so long as foreign powers were kept at a distance from the capital of the Empire?

[Page 164] In three months the haughty viceroy was a prisoner in India, never to return, and his provincial capital was held by a garrison of British troops. On this occasion the old blunder of admitting the city to ransom was not repeated, else Canton might have continued to be a hotbed of seditious plots and anti-foreign hostilities. Parkes knew the people, and he knew their rulers also. He was accordingly allowed to have his own way in dealing with them. The viceroy being out of the way, he proposed to Pehkwei, the Manchu governor, to take his place and carry on the provincial government as if the two nations were at peace. Strange to say, the governor did not decline the task. That he did not was due to the fact that he disapproved the policy of the viceroy, and that he put faith in the assurance that Great Britain harboured no design against the reigning house or its territorial domain.

To the surprise of the Chinese, who in their native histories find that an Asiatic conqueror always takes possession of as much territory as he is able to hold, it soon became evident that the Queen of England did not make war in the spirit of conquest. Her premier, Lord Palmerston, invited the cooeperation of France, Russia, and the United States, in a movement which was expected to issue advantageously to all, especially to China. France, at that time under an ambitious successor of the great Napoleon, seized the opportunity to contribute a strong contingent, with the view of checkmating England and of obtaining for herself a free hand in Indo-China, possibly in China Proper also. For assuming a hostile [Page 165] attitude towards China, she found a pretext in the judicial murder of a missionary in Kwangsi, just as Germany found two of her missionaries similarly useful as an excuse for the occupation of Kiao-Chao in 1897. No wonder the Chinese have grown cautious how they molest a missionary; but they needed practical teaching before they learned the lesson.

Unable to take a morsel of China as long as his powerful ally abstained from territorial aggrandisement, Louis Napoleon subsequently employed his troops to enlarge the borders of a small state which the French claimed in Annam, laying the foundation of a dominion which goes far to console them for the loss of India. America and Russia, having no wrongs to redress, declined to send troops, but consented to give moral support to a movement for placing foreign relations with China on a satisfactory basis.

In the spring of 1858, the representatives of the four powers met at the mouth of the Peiho, cooeperating in a loose sort of concert which permitted each one to carryon negotiations on his own account. As interpreter to the Hon. W. B. Reed, the American minister, I enjoyed the best of opportunities for observing what went on behind the scenes, besides being a spectator of more than one battle.

The neutrals, arriving in advance of the belligerents, opened negotiations with the Viceroy of Chihli, which might have added supplementary articles, but must have left the old treaties substantially unchanged. The other envoys coming on the stage insisted that the viceroy should wear the title and be clothed with the powers of a plenipotentiary. When that was [Page 166] refused, as being "incompatible with the absolute sovereignty of the Emperor," they stormed the forts and proceeded to Tientsin where they were met by men whose credentials were made out in due form, though it is doubtful if their powers exceeded those of the crestfallen viceroy. A pitiful artifice to maintain their affectation of superiority was the placing of the names of foreign countries one space lower than that of China in the despatch announcing their appointment. When this covert insult was pointed out they apologised for a clerical error, and had the despatches rectified.

The allies were able to dictate their own terms; and they got all they asked for, though, as will be seen, they did not ask enough. The rest of us got the same, though we had struck no blow and shed no blood. One article, known as "the most-favoured-nation clause" (already in the treaty of 1844), was all that we required to enable us to pick up the fruit when others shook the tree.

Four additional seaports were opened, but Tienstin, where the treaties were drawn up, was not one of them. I remember hearing Lord Elgin, whose will was absolute, say that he was not willing to have it thrown open to commerce, because in that case it would be used to overawe the capital—just as if overaweing were not the very thing needed to make a bigoted government enter on the path of progress. Never did a man in repute for statesmanship show himself more shortsighted. His blunder led to the renewal of the war, and its continuance for two more years.

[Page 167] The next year when the envoys came to the mouth of the river, on their way to Peking to exchange ratified copies of their treaties, they found the forts rebuilt, the river closed, and access to the capital by way of Tientsin bluntly refused. In taking this action, the Chinese were not chargeable with a breach of faith; but the allies, feeling insulted at having the door shut in their faces, decided to force it open. They had a strong squadron; but their gunboats were no match for the forts. Some were sunk; others were beached; and the day ended in disastrous defeat. Though taking no part in the conflict the Americans were not indifferent spectators. Hearing that the British admiral was wounded, their commodore, the brave old Tatnall, went through a shower of bullets to express his sympathy, getting his boat shattered and losing a man on the way. When requested to lend a helping hand, he exclaimed "Blood is thicker than water;" and, throwing neutrality to the winds, he proceeded to tow up a flotilla of British barges. His words have echoed around the world; and his act, though impolitic from the viewpoint of diplomacy, had the effect of knitting closer the ties of two kindred nations.

Seeing the repulse of the allies, the American minister, the Hon. J. E. Ward, resolved to accept an offer which they had declined, namely, to proceed to the capital by land under a Chinese escort. His country was pledged in the treaty, of which he was the bearer, to use her good offices on the occurrence of difficulties with other powers. Without cavilling at the prescribed route or mode of conveyance, he felt it his duty to present himself before the Throne as speedily [Page 168] as possible in the hope of averting a threatened calamity. For him, it was an opportunity to do something great and good; for China, it was the last chance to ward off a crushing blow. But so elated were the Chinese by their unexpected success that they were in no mood to accept the services of a mediator. The Emperor insisted that he should go on his knees like the tribute-bearer from a vassal state. "Tell them," said Mr. Ward, "that I go on my knees only to God and woman"—a speech brave and chivalrous, but undignified for a minister and unintelligible to the Chinese. With this he quitted the capital and left China to her fate. He was not the first envoy to meet a rude rebuff at the Chinese court. In 1816 Lord Amherst was not allowed to see the "Dragon's Face" because he refused to kneel. At that date England was not in a position to punish the insult; but it had something to do with the war of 1839. In 1859 it was pitiful to see a power whose existence was hanging in the scales alienate a friend by unseemly insolence.

The following year (1860) saw the combined forces of two empires at the gates of Peking. The summer palace was laid in ashes to punish the murder of a company of men and officers under a flag of truce; and it continues to be an unsightly ruin. The Emperor fled to Tartary to find a grave; and throne and capital were for the first time at the mercy of an Occidental army. On the accession of Hien-feng, in 1850, an old counsellor advised him to make it his duty to "restore the restrictions all along the coast." His attempt to do this was one source of his misfortunes. Supplementary articles were signed within the walls, [Page 169] by which China relinquished her absurd pretensions, abandoned her long seclusion, and, at the instance of France, threw open the whole empire to the labours of Christian missions. They had been admitted by rescript to the Five Ports, but no further.

Thus ends the second act of the drama; and a spectator must be sadly deficient in spiritual insight if he does not perceive the hand of God overruling the strife of nations and the blunders of statesmen.

ACT 3. WAR WITH FRANCE

The curtain rises on the third act of the drama in 1885. Peking was open to residence, and I had charge of a college for the training of diplomatic agents.

I was at Pearl Grotto, my summer refuge near Peking, when I was called to town by a messenger from the Board of Foreign Affairs. The ministers informed me that the French had destroyed their fleet and seized their arsenal at Foochow. "This," they said, "is war. We desire to know how the non-combatants of the enemy are to be treated according to the rules of international law." I wrote out a brief statement culled from text-books, which I had myself translated for the use of the Chinese Government; but before I had finished writing a clerk came to say that the Grand Council wished to have it as soon as possible, as they were going to draw up a decree on the subject. The next day an imperial decree proclaimed a state of war and assured French people in China that if they refrained from taking part in any hostile act they might remain in their places, and count on full protection. Nobly did the government of the day redeem its pledge. [Page 170] Not a missionary was molested in the interior; and two French professors belonging to my own faculty were permitted to go on with the instruction of their classes.

There was not much fighting. The French seized Formosa; and both parties were preparing for a trial of strength, when a seemingly unimportant occurrence led them to come to an understanding. A small steamer belonging to the customs service, employed in supplying the wants of lighthouses, having been taken by the French, Sir Robert Hart applied to the French premier, Jules Ferry, for its release. This was readily granted; and an intimation was at the same time given that the French would welcome overtures for a settlement of the quarrel. Terms were easily agreed upon and the two parties resumed the status quo ante bellum.

So far as the stipulations were concerned neither party had gained or lost anything, yet as a matter of fact France had scored a substantial victory. She was henceforward left in quiet possession of Tongking, a principality which China had regarded as a vassal and endeavoured to protect.

ACT 4. WAR WITH JAPAN

China had not thoroughly learned the lesson suggested by this experience; for ten years later a fourth act in the drama grew out of her unwise attempt to protect another vassal.

In 1894 the Japanese, provoked by China's interference with their enterprises in Korea, boldly drew the sword and won for themselves a place among the great powers. I was in Japan when the war broke [Page 171] out, and, being asked by a company of foreigners what I thought of Japan's chances, answered, "The swordfish can kill the whale."

Not merely did the islanders expel the Chinese from the Korean peninsula, but they took possession of those very districts in Manchuria from which they have but yesterday ousted the Russians. Peking itself was in danger when Li Hung Chang was sent to the Mikado to sue for peace. Luckily for China a Japanese assassin lodged a bullet in the head of her ambassador; and the Mikado, ashamed of that cowardly act, granted peace on easy conditions. China's greatest statesman carried that bullet in his dura mater to the end of his days, proud to have made himself an offering for his country, and rejoicing that one little ball had silenced the batteries of two empires.

By the terms of the treaty, Japan was to be left in possession of Port Arthur and Liao-tung. But this arrangement was in fatal opposition to the policy of a great power which had already cast covetous eyes on the rich provinces of Manchuria. Securing the support of France and Germany, Russia compelled the Japanese to withdraw; and in the course of three years she herself occupied those very positions, kindling in the bosom of Japan the fires of revenge, and sowing the seeds of another war.[*]

[Footnote *: The Russo-Japanese war lies outside of our present programme because China was not a party to it, though it involved her interests and even her existence. The subject will be treated in another chapter.]

The effect of China's defeat at the hands of her despised neighbour, was, if possible, more profound than that of her humiliation by the English and [Page 172] French in 1860. She saw how the adoption of Western methods had clothed a small Oriental people with irresistible might; and her wisest statesmen set themselves to work a similar transformation in their antiquated empire. The young Emperor showed himself an apt pupil, issuing a series of reformatory edicts, which alarmed the conservatives and provoked a reaction that constitutes the last act in this tremendous drama.

ACT 5. THE BOXER WAR

The fifth act opens with the coup d'etat of the Empress Dowager, and terminates with the capture of Peking by the combined forces of the civilised world.

Instead of attempting, even in outline, a narrative of events, it will be more useful to direct attention to the springs of action. It should be borne in mind that the late Emperor was the adopted son of the Dowager Empress. After the death of her own son, Tung-chi, who occupied the throne for eleven years under a joint regency of two empresses, his mother cast about for some one to adopt in his stead. With motives not difficult to divine she chose among her nephews an infant of three summers, and gave him the title Kwangsu, "Illustrious Successor." When he was old enough to be entrusted with the reins of government, she made a feint of laying down her power, in deference to custom. Yet she exacted of the imperial youth that he visit her at her country palace and throw himself at her feet once in five days—proof enough that she kept her hand on the helm, though she [Page 173] mitted her nephew to pose as steersman. She herself was noted for progressive ideas; and it was not strange that the young man, under the influence of Kang Yuwei, backed by enlightened viceroys, should go beyond his adoptive mother. Within three years from the close of the war he had proclaimed a succession of new measures which amounted to a reversal of the old policy; nor is it likely that she disapproved of any of them, until the six ministers of the Board of Rites, the guardians of a sort of Levitical law, besought her to save the empire from the horrors of a revolution.

For her to command was to be obeyed. The viceroys were her appointees; and she knew they would stand by her to a man. The Emperor, though nominally independent, was not emancipated from the obligations of filial duty, which were the more binding as having been created by her voluntary choice. There was no likelihood that he would offer serious resistance; and it was certain that he would not be supported if he did. Coming from behind the veil, she snatched the sceptre from his inexperienced hand, as a mother takes a deadly weapon from a half-grown boy. Submitting to the inevitable he made a formal surrender of his autocratic powers and, confessing his errors, implored her "to teach him how to govern." This was in September, 1898.

Stripped of every vestige of authority, the unhappy prince was confined, a prisoner of state, in a secluded palace where it was thought he would soon receive the present of a silken scarf as a hint to make way for a worthier successor. That his life was spared was no [Page 174] doubt due to a certain respect for the public sentiment of the world, to which China is not altogether insensible. He having no direct heir, the son of Prince Tuan was adopted by the Dowager as heir-apparent, evidently in expectation of a vacancy soon to be filled. Prince Tuan, hitherto unknown in the politics of the state, became, from that moment, the leader of a reactionary party. Believing that his son would soon be called to the throne by the demise of the Emperor, he put on all the airs of a Tai-shang Hwang, or "Father of an Emperor."

Here again the patria potestas comes in as a factor; and in the brief career of the father of the heir-apparent, it shows itself in its most exaggerated form. Under the influence of the reactionary clique, of which he was acknowledged chief, the Empress Dowager in her new regency was induced to repeal almost everything the Emperor had done in the way of reform. In her edict she said cynically: "It does not follow that we are to stop eating, because we have been choked!" Dislike to foreign methods engendered an ill-concealed hatred of foreigners; and just at this epoch occurred a series of aggressions by foreign powers, which had the effect of fanning that hatred into a flame.

In the fall of 1897 Germany demanded the cession of Kiao-Chao, calling it a lease for 99 years. The next spring Russia under the form of a lease for 25 years obtained Port Arthur for the terminus of her long railway. England and France followed suit: one taking a lease of Wei-hai-wei; the other, of Kwang-chou-wan. Though in every case the word "lease" [Page 175] was employed, the Chinese knew the transfer meant permanent alienation.

A hue and cry was raised against what they described as the "slicing of the melon," and in Shantung, where the first act of spoliation had taken place, the Boxers, a turbulent society of long standing, were encouraged to wage open war against native Christians, foreigners and foreign products, including railways, telegraphs, and all sorts of merchandise.

Not until those predatory bands had entered the metropolitan province, with the avowed object of pushing their way to Peking[*] did the legations take steps to strengthen their guards. A small reinforcement of 207 men luckily reached Peking a few days before the railway was wrecked.

[Footnote *: On March 30, 1900, the following Boxer manifesto in jingling rhyme, was thrown into the London Mission, at Tientsin. It is here given in a prose version, taken from "A Flight for Life," by the Rev. J. H. Roberts, Pilgrim Press, Boston.

"We Boxers have come to Tientsin to kill an foreign devils, and protect the Manchu dynasty. Above, there is the Empress Dowager on our side, and below there is Junglu. The soldiers of Yulu and Yuhien [governors of Shantung and Chihli] are an our men. When we have finished killing in Tientsin, we shall go to Peking. All the officials high and low will welcome us. Whoever is afraid let him quickly escape for his life."]

With a view to protect the foreign settlement at Tientsin, then threatened by Boxers, the combined naval forces stormed the forts at the mouth of the river, and advanced to that rich emporium. The Court denounced this as an act of war, and ordered all foreigners to leave the capital within twenty-four hours. That meant slaughter at the hands of the Boxers. The foreign ministers protested, and [Page 176] endeavoured by prolonged negotiation to avoid compliance with the cruel order.

On June 20, the German minister, Baron von Ketteler, was on his way to the Foreign Office to obtain an extension of time, when he was shot dead in the street by a man in the uniform of a soldier. His secretary, though wounded, gave the alarm; and all the legations, with all their respective countrymen, took refuge in the British Legation, with the exception of Bishop Favier and his people who, with the aid of forty marines, bravely defended themselves in the new cathedral.

In the evening we were fired on by the Government troops, and from that time we were closely besieged and exposed to murderous attacks day and night for eight weeks, when a combined force under the flags of eight nations carried the walls by storm, just in time to prevent such a massacre as the world has never seen. Massacres on a larger scale have not been a rare spectacle; but never before in the history of the world had any government been seen attempting to destroy an entire diplomatic body, every member of whom is made sacred by the law of nations.[*]

[Footnote *: AN APPEAL FROM THE LION'S DEN

(Written four weeks before the end of the siege, this appeal failed to reach the outside world. It is now printed for the first time. Nothing that I could now write would show the situation with half such vividness. It reveals the scene as with a lightning flash.)

"British Legation, July 16, 1900.

"TO THE CHRISTIAN WORLD

"On the 19th ult. the Chinese declared war on account of the attack on the forts at Taku. Since then we have been shut up in the British Legation and others adjacent, and bombarded day and night with shot and shell. The defence has been magnificent. About 1,000 foreigners (of both sexes) have held their ground against the forces of the Empire. Some thousands of Chinese converts are dependent on us for protection. The City Wall near the legations is held by our men, but the Chinese are forcing them back and driving in our outposts. The mortality in our ranks is very great; and unless relief comes soon we must all perish. Our men have fought bravely, and our women have shown sublime courage. May this terrible sacrifice prove not to be in vain! We are the victims of pagan fanaticism. Let this pagan empire be partitioned among Christian powers, and may a new order of things open on China with a new century!

"The chief asylum for native Christians is the Roman Catholic Cathedral, where Bishop Favier aided by forty marines gives protection to four or five thousand. The perils of the siege have obliterated the lines of creed and nation, making a unity, not merely of Christians, but bringing the Japanese into brotherhood with us. To them the siege is a step toward Christianity."

"(Signed) DR. W. A. P. MARTIN."]

[Page 177] On August 14 Gen. Gaseles and his contingent entered the British Legation. The Court, conscious of guilt, fled to the northwest, leaving the city once more at the mercy of the hated foreigner; and so the curtain falls on the closing scene.

What feats of heroism were performed in the course of those eventful weeks; how delicate women rose to the height of the occasion in patient endurance and helpful charity; how international jealousies were merged in the one feeling of devotion to the common good—all this and more I should like to relate for the honour of human nature.

How an unseen power appeared to hold our enemies in check and to sustain the courage of the besieged, I would also like to place on record, to the glory of the Most High; but space fails for dealing with anything but general principles.[1]

[Footnote 1: See the author's "The Siege in Peking," New York: Fleming H. Revell Company.]

On the day following our rescue, at a thanksgiving meeting, which was largely attended, Dr. Arthur [Page 178] Smith pointed out ten instances—most of us agreed that he might have made the number ten times ten—in which the providence of God had intervened on our behalf.

It was a role of an ancient critic that a god should not be brought on the stage unless the occasion were such as to require the presence of a more than human power. Nec deus intersit nisi dignus vindice nodus. How many such occasions we have had to notice in the course of this narrative! What a theodicaea we have in the result of all this tribulation! We see at last, a government convinced of the folly of a policy which brought on such a succession of disastrous wars. We see missionaries and native Christians fairly well protected throughout the whole extent of the Empire. We see, moreover, a national movement in the direction of educational reform, which, along with the Gospel of Christ, promises to impart new life to that ancient people.

The following incident may serve to show the state of uncertainty in which we lived during the interregnum preceding the return of the Court.

While waiting for an opportunity to get my "train (the university) on the track," I spent the summer of 1901 at Pearl Grotto, my usual retreat, on the top of a hill over a thousand feet high, overlooking the capital. "The Boxers are coming!" cried my writer and servants one evening about twilight. "Haste—hide in the rocks—they will soon be on us!" "I shall not hide," I replied; and seizing my rifle I rested it on a wall which commanded the approach. They soon became visible at the distance of a hundred yards, [Page 179] waving flambeaux, and yelling like a troop of devils. Happily I reserved my fire for closer range; for leaving the path at that point they betook themselves to the top of another hill where they waved their torches and shouted like madmen. We were safe for the night; and in the morning I reported the occurrence to Mr. O'Conor, the British charge d'affaires, who was at a large temple at the foot of the hills. "They were not Boxers," he remarked, "but a party we sent out to look for a lost student."

POSTSCRIPT

It is the fashion to speak slightingly of the Boxer troubles, and to blink the fact that the movement which led to the second capture of Peking and the flight of the Court was a serious war. The southern viceroys had undertaken to maintain order in the south. Operations were therefore localised somewhat, as they were in the Russo-Japanese War. It is even said that the combined forces were under the impression that they were coming to the rescue of a helpless government which was doing all in its power to protect foreigners. Whether this was the effect of diplomatic dust thrown in their eyes or not, it was a fiction.

How bitterly the Empress Dowager was bent on exterminating the foreigner, may be inferred from her decree ordering the massacre of foreigners and their adherents—a savage edict which the southern satraps refused to obey. A similar inference may be drawn from the summary execution of four ministers of state for remonstrating against throwing in the fortunes of the empire with the Boxer party. China [Page 180] should be made to do penance on her knees for those shocking displays of barbarism. At Taiyuan-fu, forty-five missionaries were murdered by the governor, and sixteen at Paoting-fu. Such atrocities are only possible among a half-civilised people.



[Page 181] CHAPTER XXVIII

THE RUSSO-JAPANESE WAR

Russia's Schemes for Conquest—Conflicting Interests in Korea—Hostilities Begin—The First Battles—The Blockade—Dispersion of the Russian Fleet—Battle of Liao-yang—Fall of Port Arthur—Battle of Mukden—The Armada—Battle of Tsushima—The Peace of Portsmouth—The Effect on China

To the Chinese the retrospect of these five wars left little room for those pompous pretensions which appeared to be their vital breath.

Beaten by Western powers and by the new power of the East, their capital taken a second time after forty years' opportunity to fortify it, and their fugitive court recalled a second time to reign on sufferance or during good behaviour, what had they left to boast of except the antiquity of their country and the number of their people? Dazed and paralysed, most of them gave way to a sullen resignation that differed little from despair.

There were, indeed, a few who, before things came to the worst, saw that China's misfortunes were due to folly, not fate. Ignorant conservatism had made her weak; vigorous reform might make her strong. But another war was required to turn the feeling of the few into a conviction of the many. This change was [Page 182] accomplished by a war waged within their borders but to which they were not a party—a war which was not an act in their national drama, but a spectacle for which they furnished the stage. That spectacle calls for notice in the present work on account of its influence on the destinies of China.

For the springs of action it will be necessary to go back three centuries, to the time when Yermak crossed the Ural Mountains and made Russia an Asiatic power. The conquest of Siberia was not to end in Siberia. Russia saw in it a chance to enrich herself at the expense of weaker neighbours. What but that motive led her, in 1858, to demand the Manchurian seacoast as the price of neutrality? What but that led her to construct the longest railway in the world? What but that impelled her to seek for it a second terminus on the Gulf of Pechili?

The occupation of Port Arthur and Liao-tung by the Japanese, in 1895, was a checkmate to Russia's little game; and, supported by France and Germany, she gave her notice to quit. During the Boxer War of 1900, Russia increased her forces in Manchuria to provide for the eventualities of a probable break-up, and after the peace her delay in fulfilling her promise of evacuation was tantamount to a refusal.

Had the Russians confined their attention to Manchuria they might have continued to remain in possession; but another feeble state offered itself as a tempting prize. They set greedy eyes on Korea, made interest with an impoverished court, and obtained the privilege of navigating the Yalu and cutting [Page 183] timber on its banks. This proceeding, though explained by the requirements of railway construction, aroused the suspicion and jealousy of the Japanese. They knew it meant more than seeking an outlet for a lumber industry. They knew it portended vassalage for Korea and ejection for themselves. Had they not made war on China ten years before because they could brook no rival in the peninsula? How could they tolerate the intrusion of Russia? Not merely were their interests in Korea at stake; every advance of Russia in that quarter, with Korea for vassal or ally, was a menace to the existence of Japan.

The Japanese lost no time in entering a protest. Russia resorted to the Fabian policy of delay as before; but she was dealing with a people whose pride and patriotism were not to be trifled with. After protracted negotiations Japan sent an ultimatum in which she proposed to recognise Manchuria as Russia's sphere of influence, provided Russia would recognise Japanese influence as paramount in Korea. For a fortnight or more the Czar vouchsafed no reply. Accustomed to being waited on, he put the paper in his pocket and kept it there while every train on the railway was pouring fresh troops into Manchuria. Without waiting for a formal reply, or deigning to discuss modifications intended to gain time, the Japanese heard the hour strike and cleared for action.

They are reproached for opening hostilities without first formally declaring war. In the age of chivalry a declaration of war was a solemn ceremony. A herald standing on the border read or recited his [Page 184] master's complaint and then hurled a spear across the boundary as an act of defiance. In later times nothing more than a formal announcement is required, except for the information of neutrals and the belligerents' own people. The rupture of relations leaves both parties free to choose their line of action. Japan, the newest of nations, naturally adopted the most modern method.

Recalling her ambassador on February 6, 1904, Japan was ready to strike simultaneous blows at two points. On February 8, Admiral Uriu challenged two Russian cruisers at Chemulpo to come out and fight, otherwise he would attack them in the harbour. Steaming out they fired the first shots of the war, and both were captured or destroyed. A little later on the same day Admiral Togo opened his broadsides on the Russian fleet at Port Arthur, and resumed the attack the following morning. Without challenge or notification of any kind, his attack had the effect of a genuine surprise. The Russians, whether from confidence in their position or contempt for their enemy, were unprepared and replied feebly. They had seven battleships to Togo's six, but the big ships of Japan were supported by a flotilla of torpedo-boats which outnumbered those of Russia. These alert little craft did great execution. Creeping into the harbour while the bombardment kept the enemy occupied they sank two battleships and one armoured cruiser. Other Russian vessels were badly damaged; but, according to Togo's report, on the side of Japan not one vessel was incapacitated for actual service.

Land forces, fully equipped and waiting for this [Page 185] special service, commenced operations without delay and began to cut off communication from the land side while Togo's squadron corked up every inlet from the sea. Alexieff, whose title of viceroy revealed the intentions of Russia in regard to Manchuria, taking alarm at the prospect of a siege, escaped to Harbin near the Siberian frontier—a safer place for headquarters. To screen his flight he made unwarrantable use of an ambulance train of the Red Cross Society. Disagreeing with General Kuropatkin as to the plan of campaign, he resigned the command of the army in April, and Kuropatkin was promoted to the vacant place. Beaten in several engagements on the Liao-tung peninsula, the Russians began to fall back, followed by the Japanese under Field-Marshal Oyama; and the siege of the fortress was prosecuted with unremitting vigour.

By July the Japanese had secured possession of the outer line of forts, and, planting heavy guns on the top of a high hill, they were able to throw plunging shot into the bosom of the harbour. No longer safe at their inner anchorage, the Russian naval officers resolved to attempt to reach Vladivostok, where the combined squadrons might assume the offensive or at least be secure from blockade. Scarcely had they gained the open sea when (on August 10) the Japanese fell on them like a whirlwind and scattered their ships in all directions. A few reentered the harbour to await their doom; two or three found their way to Vladivostok; two sought refuge at the German port of Tsing-tao; two put into Shanghai; and one continued its flight as far south as Saigon.

[Page 186] One gunboat sought shelter at Chefoo, where I was passing my summer vacation. The Japanese, in hot pursuit, showed no more respect to the neutrality of China than they had shown to Korea. Boarding the fugitive vessel, they summoned the captain to surrender. He replied by seizing the Japanese officer in his arms and throwing himself into the sea. They were rescued; and the Japanese then carried off the boat under the guns of a Chinese admiral. Of this incident in its main features I was an eye-witness. I may add that we were near enough to bear witness to the fact of the siege; for, in the words of Helen Sterling:

"We heard the boom of guns by day And saw their flash by night, And almost thought, tho' miles away, That we were in the fight.

The Chinese admiral, feeling the affront to the Dragon flag and fearing that he would be called to account, promptly tendered his resignation. He was told to keep his place; and, by way of consoling him for his inaction, the Minister of Marine added, "You are not to blame for not firing on the Japanese. They are fighting our battles—we can't do anything against them." So much for Chinese neutrality in theory and in practice.

Kuropatkin, like the Parthian, "most dreaded when in flight," renouncing any further attempt to break through the cordon which the Japanese had drawn around the doomed fortress, intrenched his forces in and around Liaoyang. His position was strong by [Page 187] nature, and he strengthened it by every device known to a military engineer; yet he was driven from it in a battle which lasted nine days.

The Japanese, though not slow to close around his outposts, were too cautious to deliver their main attack until they could be certain of success. The combat thickened till, on August 24, cannon thundered along a line of forty miles. Outflanked by his assailants, the Russian general, perceiving that he must secure his communications on the north or sustain a siege, abandoned his ground and fell back on Mukden.

In this, the greatest battle of the campaign thus far, 400,000 men were engaged, the Japanese, as usual, having a considerable majority. The loss of life was appalling. The Russian losses were reported at 22,000; and those of Japan could not have been less. Yet Liaoyang with all its horrors was only a prelude to a more obstinate conflict on a more extended arena.

Without hope of succour by land, and without a fleet to bring relief by sea, the Russians defended their fortress with the courage of despair. Ten years before this date the Japanese under Field-marshal Oyama had carried this same stronghold almost by assault. Taking it in the rear, a move which the Chinese thought so contrary to the rules of war that they had neglected their landward defences, they were masters of the place on the morning of the third day.

How different their reception on the present occasion! How changed the aspect! The hills, range after range, were now crowned with forts. Fifty thousand of Russia's best soldiers were behind those batteries, many of which were provided with casemates impenetrable [Page 188] to any ordinary projectile. General Stoessel, a man of science, courage and experience, was in command; and he held General Nogi with a force of sixty or seventy thousand at bay for eleven months. Prodigies of valour were performed on both sides, some of the more commanding positions being taken and retaken three or four times.

When, in September, the besiegers got possession of Wolf Hill, and with plunging shot smashed the remnant of the fleet, they offered generous terms to the defenders. General Stoessel declined the offer, resolving to emulate Thermopylae, or believing, perhaps, in the possibility of rescue. When, however, he saw the "203 Metre Hill" in their hands and knew his casemates would soon be riddled by heavy shot, in sheer despair he was forced to capitulate. This was on the first day of the new year (1905). His force had been reduced to half its original numbers, and of these no fewer than 14,000 were in hospital.

General Stoessel has been censured for not holding out until the arrival of the armada; but what could the armada have done had it appeared in the offing? It certainly could not have penetrated the harbour, for in addition to fixed or floating mines it would have had to run the gauntlet of Togo's fleet and its doom would have been precipitated. One critic of distinction denounced Stoessel's surrender as "shameful"; but is it not a complete vindication that his enemies applaud his gallant defence, and that his own government was satisfied that he had done his duty.[*]

[Footnote *: Since writing this I have read the finding of the court-martial. It has the air of an attempt to diminish the national disgrace by throwing blame on a brave commander.]

[Page 189] The Russian commander had marked out a new camp at Mukden, the chief city of the province and the cradle of the Manchu dynasty. There he was allowed once more to intrench himself. Was this because the Japanese were confident of their ability to compel him again to retire, or were they occupied with the task of filling up their depleted ranks? If the latter was the cause, the Russians were doing the same; but near to their base and with full command of the sea, the Japanese were able to do it more expeditiously than their enemy. Yet with all their facilities they were not ready to move on his works until winter imposed a suspension of hostilities.

On October 2 Kuropatkin published a boastful manifesto expressing confidence in the issue of the coming conflict—trusting no doubt to the help of the three generals, December, January, and February. Five months later, on March 8, 1905, he sent two telegrams to the Czar: the first said "I am surrounded;" the second, a few hours later, conveyed the comforting intelligence "the army has escaped."

The Japanese, not choosing to encounter the rigours of a Manchurian winter, waited till the advent of spring. The air was mild and the streams spanned by bridges of ice. The manoeuvres need not be described here in detail. After more than ten days of continuous fighting on a line of battle nearly two hundred miles long, with scarcely less than a million of men engaged (Japanese in majority as before), the great Russian strategist broke camp and retired in good order. His army had escaped, but it had lost in killed and wounded 150,000. The losses of Japan amounted to 50,000.

[Page 190] The greatest battle of this latest war, the Battle of Mukden was in some respects the greatest in modern history. In length of line, in numbers engaged, and in the resulting casualties its figures are double those of Waterloo. Once more by masterly strategy a rout was converted into a retreat; and the Russian army withdrew to the northwest.

Weary of crawfish tactics the Czar appointed General Lineivitch to the chief command; and the ablest of the Russian generals was relieved of the duty of contriving ways of "escape." To cover the rear of a defeated force is always reckoned a post of honour; but it is not the sort of distinction that satisfies the ambition of a great commander.

By dint of efforts and sacrifices an enormous fleet was assembled for the relief of Port Arthur. It sailed from Cronstadt on August 11, 1905, leaving the Baltic seaports unprotected save by the benevolent neutrality of the German Kaiser, who granted passage through his ship canal, although he knew the fleet was going to wage war on one of his friends.

Part of the fleet proceeded via Suez, and part went round the Cape of Good Hope—to them a name of mockery. The ships moved leisurely, their commanders not doubting that Stoessel would be able to hold his ground; but scarcely had they reached a rendezvous which, by the favour of France, they had fixed in the waters adjacent to Madagascar, when they heard of the fall of Port Arthur. Of the annihilation of the fleet attached to the fortress, and of the destruction of a squadron coming to the rescue from the north they had previously learned. With what dismay did they [Page 191] now hear that the key of the ocean was lost. Almost at the same moment the last of Job's messengers arrived with the heavier tidings that Mukden, the key of the province, had been abandoned by a defeated army—stunning intelligence for a forlorn hope! Should they turn back or push ahead? Anxious question this for Admiral Rozhesvenski and his officers. Too late for Port Arthur, might they not reenforce Vladivostok and save it from a like fate? The signal to "steam ahead" was displayed on the flagship.

Slowly and painfully, its propellers clogged by seaweed, its keels overgrown with barnacles, the grand armada crossed the Indian Ocean and headed northward for the China Sea. On May 27, steering for the Korean channel, it fell into a snare which a blind man ought to have been able to foresee. Togo's fleet had the freedom of the seas. Where could it be, if not in that very channel? Yet on the Russians went:

"Unmindful of the whirlwind's sway That hushed in grim repose Expects his evening prey."

The struggle was short and decisive—finished, it is said, in less than one hour. While Togo's battleships, fresh and in good condition, poured shot and shell into the wayworn strangers, his torpedo-boats, greatly increased in number, glided almost unobservedly among the enemy and launched their thunderbolts with fatal effect. Battleships and cruisers went down with all on board. The Russian flagship was disabled, and the admiral, severely wounded, was transferred [Page 192] to the hold of a destroyer. Without signals from their commander the vessels of the whole fleet fought or fled or perished separately; of 18,000 men, 1,000 escaped and 3,000 were made prisoners. What of the other 14,000?

"Ask of the winds that far around With fragments strewed the sea."

The much vaunted armada was a thing of the past; and Tsushima or, as Togo officially named it, the Battle of the Sea of Japan, has taken its place along with Trafalgar and Salamis.

Tired of a spectacle that had grown somewhat monotonous, the world was clamorous for peace. The belligerents, hitherto deaf to every suggestion of the kind, now accepted an invitation from President Roosevelt and appointed commissioners to arrange the terms of a treaty. They met in August, 1905, at Portsmouth, New Hampshire, and after a good deal of diplomatic fencing the sword was sheathed. In the treaty, since ratified, Russia acknowledges Japan's exceptional position in Korea, transfers to Japan her rights in Port Arthur and Liao-tung, and hands over to Japan her railways in Manchuria. Both parties agree to evacuate Manchuria within eighteen months.

Japan was obliged to waive her claim to a war indemnity and to allow Russia to retain half the island of Saghalien. Neither nation was satisfied with the terms, but both perceived that peace was preferable to the renewal of the struggle with all its horrors and uncertainties. For tendering the olive branch [Page 193] and smoothing the way for its acceptance, President Roosevelt merits the thanks of mankind.[*] Besides other advantages Japan has assured her position as the leading power of the Orient; but the greatest gainer will be Russia, if her defeat in the field should lead her to the adoption of a liberal government at home.

[Footnote *: Since this was written a Nobel Peace Prize has justly been awarded to the President.]

"Peace hath her victories, No less renowned than war."

The Czar signified his satisfaction by making Witte the head of a reconstruction ministry and by conferring upon him the title of Count; and the Mikado showed his entire confidence in Baron Komura, notwithstanding some expressions of disappointment among the people, by assigning him the delicate task of negotiating a treaty with China.