In 1885 an important and delicate negotiation between England and China was brought to a successful issue by the joint efforts of Lord Salisbury and the Marquis Tseng. The levy of the lekin or barrier tax on opium had led to many exactions in the interior which were injurious to the foreign trade and also to the Chinese government, which obtained only the customs duty raised in the port. After the subject had been thoroughly discussed in all its bearings a convention was signed in London, on July 19, 1885, by which the lekin was fixed at eighty taels a chest, in addition to the customs due of thirty taels, and also that the whole of this sum should be paid in the treaty port before the opium was taken out of bond. This arrangement was greatly to the advantage of the Chinese government, which came into possession of a large revenue that had previously been frittered away in the provinces, and much of which had gone into the pockets of the mandarins. This subject affords the most appropriate place for calling attention to the conspicuous services rendered, as Director-general of Chinese Customs during more than thirty years, by Sir Robert Hart, who, on the premature death of Sir Harry Parkes, was appointed British Minister at Pekin, which post, for weighty reasons, he almost immediately resigned. It is impossible to measure the consequences and important effect of his conduct and personal influence upon the policy and opinion of China, while his work in the interests of that country has been both striking and palpable. To his efforts the central government mainly owes its large and increasing cash revenue, and when some candid Chinese historian sums up the work done for his country by foreigners, he will admit that, what Gordon did in war and Macartney in diplomacy, Hart accomplished in those revenue departments which are an essential element of strength, and we must hope that this truthful chronicler will also not forget to record that all these loyal servants were English, members of a race which, after fighting China fairly, frankly held out the hand of friendship and alliance. In connection with this subject it may be noted that the emperor issued an edict in 1890 formally legalizing the cultivation of opium, which, although practically carried on, was nominally illegal. An immediate consequence of this step was a great increase in the area under cultivation, particularly in Manchuria, and so great is the production of native opium now becoming that that of India may yet be driven from the field as a practical revenge for the loss inflicted on China by the competition of Indian tea. But at all events these measures debar China from ever again posing as an injured party in the matter of the opium traffic. She has very rightly determined to make the best of the situation and to derive all the profit she can by taxing an article in such very general use and consumption; but there is an end to all representations like those made by prominent officials from Commissioner Lin to Prince Kung and Li Hung Chang, that the opium traffic was iniquitous, and constituted the sole cause of disagreement between China and England.
During these years the young Emperor Kwangsu was growing up. In February, 1887, in which month falls the Chinese New Year, it was announced that his marriage was postponed in consequence of his delicate health, and it was not until the new year of 1889, when Kwangsu was well advanced in his eighteenth year, that he was married to Yeh-ho-na-la, daughter of a Manchu general named Knei Hsiang, who had been specially selected for this great honor out of many hundred candidates. The marriage was celebrated with the usual state, and more than $5,000,000 is said to have been expended on the attendant ceremonies. At the same time the empress-regent issued her farewell edict and passed into retirement, but there is reason to believe that she continued to exercise no inconsiderable influence over the young emperor.
The marriage and assumption of governing power by the Emperor Kwangsu brought to the front the very important question of the right of audience by the foreign ministers resident at Pekin. This privilege had been conceded by China at the time of the Tientsin massacre, and it had been put into force on one occasion during the brief reign of Tungche. The time had again arrived for giving it effect, and, after long discussions as to the place of audience and the forms to be observed, Kwangsu issued in December, 1890, an edict appointing a day soon after the commencement of the Chinese New Year for the audience, and also arranging that it should be repeated annually on the same date. In March, 1891, Kwangsu gave his first reception to the foreign ministers, but after it was over some criticism and dissatisfaction were aroused by the fact that the ceremony had been held in the Tse Kung Ko, or Hall of Tributary Nations. As this was the first occasion on which Europeans saw the young emperor, the fact that he made a favorable impression on them is not without interest, and the following personal description of the master of so many millions may well be quoted. "Whatever the impression 'the Barbarians' made on him the idea which they carried away of the Emperor Kwangsu was pleasing and almost pathetic. His air is one of exceeding intelligence and gentleness, somewhat frightened and melancholy looking. His face is pale, and though it is distinguished by refinement and quiet dignity it has none of the force of his martial ancestors, nothing commanding or imperial, but is altogether mild, delicate, sad and kind. He is essentially Manchu in features, his skin is strangely pallid in hue, which is, no doubt, accounted for by the confinement of his life inside these forbidding walls and the absence of the ordinary pleasures and pursuits of youth, with the constant discharge of onerous, complicated and difficult duties of state which, it must be remembered, are, according to imperial Chinese etiquette, mostly transacted between the hours of two and six in the morning. His face is oval shaped with a very long narrow chin and a sensitive mouth with thin, nervous lips; his nose is well shaped and straight, his eyebrows regular and very arched, while the eyes are unusually large and sorrowful in expression. The forehead is well shaped and broad, and the head is large beyond the average."
Owing to the dissatisfaction felt at the place of audience, which seemed to put the Treaty Powers on the same footing as tributary states, the foreign ministers have endeavored to force from the Tsungli Yamen the formal admission that a more appropriate part of the imperial city should be assigned for the ceremony; but as the powers themselves were not disposed to lay too much stress on this point, no definite concession has yet been made, and the Chinese ministers have held out against the pressure of some of the foreign representatives. But, although no concise alteration has been made in the place of audience, the question has been practically settled by a courteous concession to the new English minister, Mr. O'Conor, who succeeded Sir John Walsham in 1892, and it is gratifying to feel that this advantage was gained more by tact than by coercion. When Mr. O'Conor wished to present his credentials to the emperor, it was arranged that the emperor should receive him in the Cheng Kuan Tien Palace, which is part of the imperial residence of Peace and Plenty within the Forbidden City. The British representative, accompanied by his secretaries and suite in accordance with arrangement, proceeded to this palace on December 13, 1892, and was received in a specially honorable way at the principal or imperial entrance by the officials of the court. Such a mark of distinction was considered quite unique in the annals of foreign diplomacy in China, and has since been a standing grievance with the other ministers at Pekin. It was noticed by those present that the emperor took a much greater interest in the ceremony than on previous occasions, and that he showed special attention as Prince Ching, the President of the Yamen, translated the letter from Queen Victoria. This audience, which lasted a considerable time, was certainly the most satisfactory and encouraging yet held with the Emperor Kwangsu by any foreign envoy, and it also afforded opportunity of confirming the favorable impression which the intelligence and dignified demeanor of the Emperor Kwangsu have made on all who have had the honor of coming into his presence. One incident in the progress of the audience question deserves notice, and that was the emperor's refusal, in 1891, to receive Mr. Blair, the United States Minister, in consequence of the hostile legislation of that country against China. The anti-foreign outbreak along the Yangtsekiang, in the summer of 1891, was an unpleasant incident, from which at one time it looked as if serious consequences might follow; but the ebullition fortunately passed away without an international crisis, and it may be hoped that the improved means of exercising diplomatic pressure at Pekin will render these attacks less frequent, and their settlement and redress more rapid.
During the last ten years events in Central Asia and Burmah have drawn England and China much more closely together, and have laid the basis of what it must be hoped will prove a firm and durable alliance. If suspicion was laid aside and candid relations established on the frontier, it should not be difficult to maintain an excellent understanding with China, and at the present moment every difficulty has been smoothed over with the exception of that on the Burmese frontier. It is to be hoped that not less success will be obtained in this quarter than in Sikhim and Hunza, and Mr. O'Conor's convention of Pekin in July, 1886, recognizing China's right to receive a tribute mission from Burmah once in ten years went far to prove the extent of concession England would make to China. It is divulging what cannot long be kept secret, to explain the circumstances under which Mr. O'Conor's convention was signed, and the unusual concession made by a British government of admitting its liability to send a tribute mission. The Chefoo Convention, closing the Yunnan incident, contained a promise from the Chinese government to allow an English mission to pass through Tibet. Years passed without any attempt to give effect to this stipulation, but at last, in 1884, Mr. Colman Macaulay, a member of the Indian Civil Service, obtained the assent of his government to requesting the permission of the Chinese government to visit Lhasa. He went to Pekin and he came to London, and he obtained the necessary permission and the formal passport of the Tsungli Yamen; and there is no doubt that if he had set off for Tibet with a small party, he would have been honorably received and passed safely through Tibet to India. On the other hand there is no doubt that such a visit would have presented no feature of special or striking importance. It would have been an interesting individual experience, but scarcely an international landmark, This modest character for his long-cherished project did not suit Mr. Macaulay, and unmindful of the adage that there may be a slip betwixt the cup and the lip, he not merely delayed the execution of his visit, but he made ostentatious preparations for an elaborate mission, and he engaged many persons with scientific qualifications to accompany him, with the view of examining the mineral resources of Tibet. The Chinese themselves did not like, and had never contemplated, such a mission, but their dissatisfaction was slight in comparison with the storm it raised in Tibet; and the Chinese government was thus brought face to face with a position in which it must either employ its military power to coerce the Tibetans, who made preparations to oppose the Macaulay mission by force of arms, or acquiesce in the Tibetans ignoring its official passports, and thus provoke a serious complication with this country. Such was the position of the Tibetan question when Burmah was annexed in January, 1886, and negotiations followed with China for the adjustment of her claims in the country. Negotiations were carried on, in the first place by Lord Salisbury, and in the second by Lord Rosebery, with the Chinese minister in London, and the draft of more than one convention was prepared. Among such contemplated arrangements were the dispatch of a mission from Burmah to China, and of a return one from China; the appointment of the Head Priest of Mandalay as the person to send the mission, thus making it a purely native matter, outside the participation of the British government; and the concession of material advantages on the Irrawaddy and in the Shan country, as the equivalent for the surrender of the tribute. It is probable that one of these three arrangements would have been carried out, but that, on certain points being referred to Pekin, the knowledge came to the ears of the British government that if the Tibetan mission were withdrawn, the Chinese would be content with the formal admission of their claim to receive the tribute mission from Burmah in accordance with established usage. As both governments wanted a speedy settlement of the question, the Chinese, with the view of allaying the rising agitation in Tibet and getting rid of a troublesome question, and the English not less anxious to have the claims of China in Burmah defined in diplomatic language, the convention which bears Mr. O'Conor's name was drawn up and signed with quite remarkable dispatch. For the abandonment of the Macaulay mission, and the recognition of their right to receive the tribute mission from Burmah, the authorities at Pekin were quite, at the moment, willing to forego material claims such as a port on the Irrawaddy. Diplomacy has not yet said the last word on this matter, and the exact frontier between Burmah and China has still to be delimited, but the fixing of a definite date for the dispatch of the first mission from Mandalay to Pekin, which is timed to set out in January, 1894, is in itself of hopeful augury for the settlement of all difficulties. When this matter is composed there will be no cloud in the sky of Anglo-Chinese relations, and that such an auspicious result will be obtained is not open to serious doubt. The most gratifying fact in the history of China during the last ten years is the increasing sympathy and tacit understanding between the two great empires of England and China in Asia, which must in time constitute an effective alliance against any common danger in that continent, and the aggressive policy of Russia.
THE WAR WITH JAPAN AND SUBSEQUENT EVENTS
We have seen that, up to 1892, it had been customary to receive the representatives of foreign powers in the Tse Kung Ko, or Hall of Tributary Nations. Naturally, much dissatisfaction was provoked by the selection of a place of audience which seemed to put the treaty powers on the same footing as tributary states, and, accordingly, the foreign ministers undertook to exact from the Tsungli Yamen, or Board for Foreign Affairs, the designation of a more suitable locality in the imperial city for the annual ceremony. The proposed innovation was resisted for some time; but when Sir Nicolas O'Conor was appointed British Minister at Pekin, an exception was made in his favor, and a place of superior importance to the Hall of Tributary Nations was chosen for the presentation of his credentials. The Emperor Kwangsu agreed to receive him in the Cheng Kuan Tien Palace, or pavilion which forms part of the imperial residence of Peace and Plenty within the Forbidden City. In pursuance of this arrangement, the British representative, attended by his suite, proceeded to this pavilion on December 13, 1892, and was received at the principal entrance by the high court officials. It was also noted that the emperor took a greater interest in the ceremony than on preceding occasions, and followed with attention the reading of Queen Victoria's letter, by Prince Ching, then president of the Tsungli Yamen. Thenceforth, there was observed with every year a decided improvement in the mode of receiving foreign diplomatists, and, eventually, the imperial audience was supplemented with an annual dinner given by the Board for Foreign Affairs. Through the personal reception accorded by the Emperor of China to Prince Henry of Prussia on May 15, 1898, the audience question was finally settled in favor of the right of foreign potentates to rank on an equality with the so-called Son of Heaven.
We come now to the most memorable event in the modern history of China since the Taeping Rebellion; to wit, the war with Japan. In order to comprehend, however, the causes of this contest between the two chief races of the Far East, it is necessary to review the development of the Corean question which gave rise to it. There seems to be no doubt that Japan derived its first civilizing settlers, and most of its arts and industries, from the Corean peninsula. It is certain that, for centuries, the intercourse between the two countries was very close, and that more than one attempt was made by Japanese rulers to subjugate Corea. The latest and most strenuous endeavor to that end was made near the end of the sixteenth century, and, although it resulted in a temporary occupation of the peninsula, the Japanese troops were eventually withdrawn, and Corea resumed its former status of a kingdom tributary to the Celestial Empire. Thenceforth, for almost three centuries, Corea and Tonquin bore, in theory, precisely the same relation to the Middle Kingdom. In each instance, the practical question was whether China was strong enough to make good her nominal rights. The outcome of her resistance to French aggression in Tonquin had shown that there, at least, she had no such power. But, in the subsequent ten years, efforts had been made to organize an efficient army and navy, and the belief was entertained at Pekin that China was at all events strong enough to uphold her claims in Corea, which was, geographically and strategically, of far more importance to the Middle Kingdom than was Tonquin. Yet, while it was evident that Corea would not be renounced without a struggle, the Pekin authorities, for some years, met the Japanese encroachments with a weak and vacillating policy. As early as 1876, the Mikado's advisers entered on a course which obviously aimed at the attainment of commercial, if not, also, political, ascendency in the Hermit Kingdom. An outrage having been committed upon some of her sailors, Japan obtained, by way of reparation from the court of Seoul, the opening of the port of Fushan to her trade. Four years later, Chemulpo, the port of Seoul, was also opened. These forward steps on the part of the Japanese aroused the Chinese to activity, and, in 1881, a draft commercial treaty was prepared by the Chinese authorities in council with the representatives of the principal powers at Pekin, and sent to Seoul, where it was accepted. The Japanese alleged, however, that they possessed a historical right to an equal voice with China in the Corean peninsula, and that, consequently, the treaty to which we have just referred required their ratification. To sustain this claim, the Japanese allied themselves with the Progressive party in Corea, a move which compelled the Chinese to lean upon the Reactionists, who were opposed to the concessions lately made to foreigners, and who, as events were to show, were preponderant in the Hermit Kingdom. In June, 1882, the Corean Reactionists attacked the Japanese Legation at Seoul, murdered some members of it, and compelled the survivors to flee to the seacoast. Thereupon, the Mikado sent some troops to exact reparation, and the Chinese, on their part, dispatched a force to restore order. A compromise was brought about, and, for two years, Japanese and Chinese soldiers remained encamped beside one another under the walls of the Corean capital. In December, 1884, however, a second collision occurred between the Japanese and the Coreans, the latter being, this time, assisted by the Chinese. The Mikado's subjects were again compelled to take to flight. The Tokio government now resolved upon firm measures, and, while it exacted compensation from the Coreans, it sent Count Ito Hirobumi to China to bring about an accommodation with the Pekin government. At that conjuncture, there is no doubt that China possessed advantages in the Corean peninsula that were lacking to the Japanese. Not only was she popular with the majority of the people, but the treaty powers were more disposed to act through her than through Japan in order to secure the general extension of trade with the Hermit Kingdom. Those advantages, nevertheless, were thrown away by an agreement which the shortsighted advisers of the Chinese emperor were persuaded to accept. Li Hung Chang was appointed the Chinese Plenipotentiary to negotiate with Count Ito, and, after a short conference, a convention was signed at Tientsin on April 18, 1885. The provisions of the convention were, first, that both countries should withdraw their troops from Corea; secondly, that no more officers should be sent by either country to drill the Corean army; and, thirdly, that if, at any future time, either of the two countries should send troops to Corea, it must inform the other. It is manifest that, by this agreement, China, practically, acquiesced in Japan's assertion of an equal right to control the Hermit Kingdom. Thenceforth, it was impossible to speak of Corea as being a vassal state of the Celestial Empire.
For some nine years, nevertheless, after the conclusion of the Tientsin agreement, there were no dangerous disturbances in the Peninsular Kingdom. In the early part of 1894, however, Kim-Ok-Kiun, a reformer, and the leader of the Corean uprising in 1884, was assassinated at Shanghai, and it subsequently transpired that the murder had been committed by the order of the Corean authorities. It is certain that honors and rewards were bestowed upon the assassin on his return to the Hermit Kingdom, while the body of his victim was drawn and quartered as that of a traitor. Just at this juncture, the Tonghaks, a body of religious reformers, having failed to obtain certain concessions, revolted, and, by the end of May, achieved so much success over the Corean forces that the Seoul government became alarmed, and sent to China for assistance. In response to the request, some two thousand Chinese troops were disembarked on June 10 at Asan, a seaport some distance south of the Corean capital, and a few Chinese men- of-war were dispatched to the coast of the peninsula. Formal notice of these proceedings was given to Japan under the terms of the Tientsin Convention. Thereupon, the Mikado's government decided to undertake a like interposition, and acted with so much energy that, within forty-eight hours after the arrival of the Chinese at Asan, they had placed at Seoul a much superior force. They were thus able to dominate the court, although it was in entire sympathy with China. The Pekin government now made the mistake of reviving its pretensions to regard the Hermit Kingdom as a vassal state. These pretensions Japan refused to tolerate, on the ground, first, that she had never admitted them, and, secondly, that the Tientsin Convention recognized an equality of rights in the two states. The Japanese also called attention to the misrule that prevailed in Corea, and proposed that the Chinese should join them in carrying out needful reforms. To this proposal, China could not accede, being hampered by her alliance with the reactionary party at Seoul; consequently, Japan undertook the execution of the task alone. As a first step in that direction, the Japanese got possession of the person of the Corean ruler, and compelled him to act as the instrument of his captors. The initial document which he was constrained to sign was an order that the Chinese troops, who had come at his invitation, should leave the country. The seizure of the king's person, which occurred on July 23, 1894, was followed by two successful acts of aggression. On the 25th, the Japanese squadron attacked the Chinese transport "Kowshing," conveying fresh soldiers to Asan, and its escort of warships. In the engagement, one Chinese man-of-war was sunk, one was disabled, and 1,200 soldiers were destroyed on the "Kowshing," which was torpedoed. On July 29, the Japanese general Oshima, at the head of a small force, made a night attack upon the Chinese fortified camp at Song Hwang, and carried the place with a loss to their opponents of 500 killed and wounded. These preliminary encounters were followed by a declaration of war on August 1, 1894. During the ensuing six weeks, Japan poured her troops into the peninsula, while the Chinese fleet, instead of harassing the enemy, remained in the harbors of Port Arthur and Wei-hai-Wei. On September 15, the Japanese army in Corea was strong enough to detach a corps of 14,000 men to attack the Chinese position at Pingyang, a town on the northern banks of the Paidong River. The passage of the river was difficult, and the Chinese might have overwhelmed the Japanese when crossing it, but they took no measures to this end, and the battle began at sunrise on the day just named. There were five forts to be captured, and some of them were vigorously defended, nor was it until night set in that the garrison finally determined upon evacuating the place. In the battle itself and the retreat, over 2,000 Chinese were killed, to say nothing of the wounded and the prisoners. The Japanese themselves lost 162 killed, 438 wounded and 33 missing, and there seems to be no reason to doubt that, had all the Chinese officers been capable of the valor displayed by the general Tso-pao-kuei, the Japanese would have been repulsed. As it was, the battle proved decisive, for not a Chinaman paused until he had reached the other side of the Yalu River, which forms the northwest boundary of Corea.
On the very day of the fight at Pingyang, a number of Chinese war vessels, under the command of Admiral Ting, were transporting troops to the mouth of the Yalu, where the Chinese were assembling a second army. On its return from this task, it was encountered, September 17, off tha island of Haiyang, by a Japanese squadron under Admiral Ito. Ostensibly, the two fleets were evenly matched. They each numbered ten fighting vessels, and, if two of the Chinese ships possessed a more powerful armament, the Japanese were superior in steam power. It was to quickness in maneuvering that the Japanese admiral trusted for victory, and his first attack consisted mainly in circling around the Chinese squadron. He was careful, also, to reserve his fire until only two miles separated him from his adversaries. After a duel with the Japanese "Matsushima," the Chinese flagship "Tingyuen" was severely damaged, and only saved from sinking by the intervention of her sister ship, the "Chenyuen." These two ironclads, together with the torpedo boats, succeeded in making their escape, but five of the Chinese vessels were sunk or destroyed. In men, the Chinese lost 700 killed or drowned and 300 wounded, while the Japanese lost 115 killed and 150 wounded. The result of this victory was that the Chinese never afterward attempted to dispute the control of the sea, and their water communication with the Yalu was effectually cut off.