Thus within one month the exposition of the Russian designs was expanded from the first assurance of Count Muravieff that the wintering of the ships was merely for the temporary convenience of the fleet, to the assertion of vague territorial rights over the coast and harbours of Liao-tung. And Lord Salisbury observed with plaintive naïveté in the month of March, that whereas his Government "had always looked with favour upon the idea of Russia obtaining an ice-free port on the Pacific, Russia had now given a most unfortunate extension to this policy." It appears that the eyes of the British Government were not opened to the gravity of the situation until Russia, alleging that an ice-free port on the Chinese coast (no longer the Pacific) was a vital necessity to her, thereupon took possession of Port Arthur and Talien-wan. The British Government at the eleventh hour opposed the proceeding, for the reason that "the influence of Russia over the Government of Peking will be so increased to the detriment of that of her Majesty's Government, if the Russians are to have a lease of Port Arthur and Talien-wan, that it seems desirable for us to make some counter-move." Thus the British Government were brought to see, when too late, what those interested in Far Eastern affairs had been endeavouring to tell them years before; and there seems to be no doubt that the final discovery of the truth was due to the efforts of one or two persistent writers in the press during January and February 1898, but chiefly to the action of a small independent section of the British House of Commons led by Mr Yerburgh. On such trifling accidents do great events sometimes hang, that it seems probable that had Mr Yerburgh's movement taken effect three months earlier British ships would not have been withdrawn from Port Arthur, neither would China have been ousted from the possession of her only two naval harbours north of the Yangtze—at least not just then. It would serve no good purpose to follow the various explanations given by Ministers of the British Crown of their diplomatic encounters with Russia. They will have little interest for the historian. But a clear account of these transactions given in a letter to the 'Times,' May 19, 1898, may very well serve as a guide to future inquirers into these matters:—
The Legend of Talien-wan.
Before the recent diplomatic struggle in the Far East is allowed to pass away from the public mind, may I be permitted to say a few words on one of its aspects which seems to have received very little attention?
The bad faith of the Russian Government has been strongly, and not unreasonably, condemned; but no attempt has been made to explain it, except on the popular hypothesis that a double dose of original sin is normal in the Muscovite. It does not seem to have occurred to any writer on the subject that the Russians themselves may have a grievance, that they may have acted under a sense of injury, or that, in their view, the good faith of the British Government is not above reproach. I believe they are mistaken; but it is none the less true that the chain of facts on which they rely will well bear the interpretation they place upon it.
The great blot on the recently published "Correspondence respecting the affairs of China" (No. 1, 1898) is that it takes no account of its immediate Vorgeschichte. It relates to a diplomatic struggle of which we last heard officially as far back as 1887, when the Blue-book on Port Hamilton was published. Since then many important things have happened, notably the Chino-Japanese war and the intervention of Russia, France, and Germany in the settlement of Shimonoseki. To ignore these events is really to delude the public; for the chapter of Far Eastern politics which begins with the German descent on Kiaochow is little short of meaningless if the story of Shimonoseki is passed over. Indeed the legend of Talien-wan itself belongs to a policy which may easily be traced back half a century. It is, however, not necessary for my purpose that I should go behind the Shimonoseki intervention. What was the object of that transaction? No one who has given any attention to Far Eastern affairs has ever been under the slightest illusion on this point. The great problem of Russian statesmanship since the foundation of the empire has been to reach the open sea, first in the Baltic, then in the Euxine and the Mediterranean, and, after the Crimean war, in the Pacific. Since Muravieff and Nevelskoy opened the Amur Russia has neglected no opportunity of pushing southward in order to get beyond the line of winter ice, and every embarrassment of China has been skilfully used by her to bring her nearer her goal. We in England have consistently resisted this policy, and in 1886 we thought to have finally defeated it when, by seizing Port Hamilton, we extracted a pledge from Russia that she would not occupy Korean territory "under any circumstances whatever." To all outward seeming Russian expansion in the Far East was thus stopped in the ice-bound harbour of Vladivostock. This, however, was not the view of Russia herself. She was still confident that an opportunity would be afforded her of realising her ambition, for there were other harbours on the Pacific besides those of Korea, and if the road to them was longer and more difficult, Russian patience was equal to the task of covering it. In these circumstances Japan, victorious in her war with China, claimed and obtained the cession of the Liao-tung peninsula, and thus threatened to shut the door for ever against Russian access to the Pacific. The intervention of the Powers which Russia thereupon organised was ostensibly directed to the protection of the integrity and independence of China, but no intelligent politician doubted at the time, or has doubted since, that its real aim was to keep the Pacific door open for Russia.
Shortly after this event Lord Salisbury came into office. The problem which then most urgently demanded his attention was that of Armenia. Largely by its attitude in the Far East the Rosebery Cabinet had left our relations with Russia in a distinctly strained condition, and the one obvious remedy of the Armenian horrors—the coercion of the Sultan—was blocked by Russia. Lord Salisbury directed himself to the conciliation of Russia, wisely recognising that nothing could be done in the Near East without Russian goodwill and assistance. What were the means he employed? I cannot say what private negotiations may have taken place between the two Governments, but we seem to have a sufficiently significant illustration of the direction in which the Premier was disposed to make concessions to Russia in a speech delivered by Mr Balfour at Bristol on February 3, 1896. In that speech a British Minister announced for the first time that this country would not oppose Russian expansion to the Pacific. "I, for my part, frankly state," he said, "that, so far from regarding with fear and jealousy a commercial outlet for Russia in the Pacific Ocean which would not be ice-bound half the year, I should welcome such a result as a distinct advance in this far-distant region." This statement made a profound impression all over the world, as well it might, seeing that it implied the abandonment of a policy which had been consistently and vigilantly adhered to by Great Britain from the time of Lord Clarendon to that of Lord Rosebery.
A few days after Mr Balfour's Bristol speech—on February 20—it fell to Mr Curzon to explain in a negative way the scope of his leader's pronouncement. An impression had got abroad that the new policy implied the surrender of the pledge given by Russia in 1886 with regard to the occupation of Korean territory, and the Under Secretary was asked in the House of Commons for his views on the subject. Mr Curzon replied that "her Majesty's Government consider that the pledge given by the Russian Government is still binding." Was this a disavowal of the new Russophile policy. Obviously not: for later in the year, at the Guildhall banquet, Lord Salisbury made to Russia the friendliest overtures he has ever made in public speech. At the same time he especially accentuated the novelty of his attitude by asserting that "it is a superstition of an antiquated diplomacy that there is any necessary antagonism between Russia and Great Britain."
The position, then, of the Government was apparently this: they had abandoned the traditional hostility of this country to Russian expansion towards the ice-free Pacific on condition that it did not trench on Korean territory. It followed, then, that they were not disposed to offer any hindrance to the acquisition by Russia of a port on Chinese territory, westward of the Korean frontier—that is, somewhere between the mouth of the Yalu and Port Arthur. This must be clear to anybody who cares to glance at a map. The upshot of the speeches of Mr Balfour and Lord Salisbury and of the statement of Mr Curzon was, in short, to invite Russia, whenever she might feel so disposed, to plant the Russian flag on the southern coast of Manchuria. This, at any rate, was the view taken in Russia, and, for my part, I can see no escape from it. It is not a little significant of the satisfaction caused in Russia by this interpretation of the policy of Great Britain that, on November 25, a fortnight after Lord Salisbury's speech, the Tsar at last consented in principle to the British proposals for coercing the Sultan of Turkey on the Armenian question.
Now we come to the events of last November, when Germany suddenly swooped down on Kiaochow. This step is known to have been very distasteful to the Russian Government. It was the first appearance of a European Power in the northern waters of China, in a region which Russia had persuaded herself was reserved for her own domination. Long before the murder of the unfortunate German missionaries in Shantung it was well known in St Petersburg that Germany had her eyes on Kiaochow, and the Russian Minister at Peking had more than once warned Li Hung-chang and urged him to fortify the bay. The disappointment of Russia became intensified when it was observed that the step taken by Germany, was not resented in this country, and fears of an Anglo-German alliance in the Far East began to possess the Russian mind. Then suddenly there came the Talien-wan incident, and Russia found herself once more confronted by the danger which had threatened her in the treaty of Shimonoseki.
The real significance of the Talien-wan incident has never yet been fully set forth. Had Talien-wan been made a treaty port, and thus given more or less of an international status, Russia would have been practically shut out for ever from the ice-free ocean. The only stretch of coast on which she could obtain this outlet was, as I have already shown, the southern coast of Manchuria from the Korean frontier on the Yalu to Port Arthur. Now, if we examine this coast-line carefully we shall find that there is only one spot capable of being transformed into a commercial port, and that is Talien-wan. The China Sea Directory (vol. iii.), published by the Hydrographic Department of the Admiralty, gives us the fullest particulars on this subject. It traces the coast-line in microscopic detail and shows us that it has only five possible harbours. The first, westward from the Yalu, is Taku-shan, the approach to which is frozen during the winter months. The second is Pi-tse-wo,—here the water is too shallow even for large junks. The third is Yen-tao Bay, the anchorage of which is bad, and in places dangerous. The fourth is Talien-wan, and the fifth Port Arthur. Talien-wan has all the advantages which are absent from the other ports. It is ice-free, spacious, well sheltered, with excellent anchorage and considerable commercial possibilities. Is it surprising that Russia should have felt aggrieved when it was proposed to make Talien-wan a treaty port?