Little notice has been taken in our account of Germany's spacious days of her relations to China and the Far East generally. They were, nevertheless, all through that period intimately connected with her expansion or dreams of expansion. About 1890 the Flowery Land awoke to the benefits of European civilization and in particular of European ingenuity; and in 1891, for the first time in Chinese history, foreign diplomatists were granted the privilege of an annual reception at the Chinese Court. So exclusive was the Manchu dynasty—the Hohenzollerns of China in point of antiquity; yet not a score of years later the Manchu monarchy had been quietly removed from its five-thousand-year-old throne, and China, apparently the most conservative and monarchical people on earth, proclaimed itself a republic—a regular modern republic!—an operation that among peoples claiming infinite superiority to the Chinese would have cost thousands of lives and a vast expenditure of money.

Naturally, once China showed a willingness to abandon its axenic attitude towards foreign devils and all things foreign-devilish, the European Powers turned their eyes and energies towards her, and a strenuous commercial and diplomatic race after prospective concessions for railways, mines, and undertakings of all kinds began. Each Power feared that China would be gobbled up by a rival, or that at least a partition of the vast Chinese Empire was at hand. Consequently, when China was beaten in her war with Japan, and made the unfavourable treaty of Shimonoseki, the European Powers were ready to appear as helpers in time of need. Russia, Germany, and France got the Shimonoseki Treaty altered, and the Laotung Peninsula with Port Arthur given back, and in return Russia acquired the right to build a railway through Manchuria (the first step towards "penetration" and occupation), French engineers obtained several valuable mining and railway concessions, and Germany got certain privileges in Hankow and Tientsin.

Meantime the old, deeply-rooted hatred of the foreign devil, the European, was spreading among the population, which was still, in the mass, conservative. Missionaries were murdered, and among them, in 1897, two German priests. Germany demanded compensation, and in default sent a cruiser squadron to Kiautschau Bay. Russia immediately hurried a fleet to Port Arthur and obtained from China a lease of that port for twenty-five years. England and France now put in a claim for their share of the good things going. England obtained Wei-hai-Wei, France a lease of Kwang-tschau and Hainan. China was evidently throwing herself into the arms of Europe, when, in 1898, the Dowager Empress took the government out of the hands of the young Emperor and a period of reaction set in. The appearance of Italy with a demand for a lease of the San-mun Bay in 1899 brought the Chinese anti-foreign movement to a head, and the Boxer conspiracy grew to great dimensions.

The movement was caused not merely by religious and race fanaticism, but by the popular fear that the new European era would change the economic life of China and deprive millions of Chinese of their wonted means of livelihood. The Dowager Empress and a number of Chinese princes now joined it. Massacres soon became the order of the day, and it is calculated that in the spring of 1900 alone more than 30,000 Christians were barbarously done to death. Among the victims were reckoned 118 English, 79 Americans, 25 French, and 40 of other nationalities. The Ambassadors and Ministers of all nations, conscious of their danger, applied to the Tsungli Yamen (Foreign Office), demanding that the Imperial Government should crush the Boxer movement. The Government took no steps, the diplomatists were beleaguered in their embassies, and were only saved by friendly police from being murdered.

This, however, was but a temporary respite, and it became necessary to bring marines from the foreign ships of war lying at the mouth of the Pei-ho River just out of range of the formidable Taku Forts. These troops, 2,000 in all, were led by Admiral Seymour. They tried to reach Pekin, but failed owing to the destruction of the railway, and retired to Tientsin, from whence, however, on June 16th, a detachment set out to capture the Taku Forts. The capture was effected, the German gunboat Iltis, under Captain Lans, playing a conspicuously brave part. Tientsin was now in danger from the Boxer bands, but was relieved by a mixed detachment of Russians and Germans under General Stoessel, the subsequent defender of Port Arthur.

The alarm meantime at Pekin was intense. The Chinese Government, throwing off all disguise, ordered the diplomatists to leave the city. They refused, knowing that to leave the shelter of the embassies meant torture and death. One of them, however, the German Minister, Freiherr von Ketteler, ventured from his Legation and was killed in broad daylight on his way to the Chinese Foreign Office. Only one of the Minister's party escaped, to stagger, hacked and bloody, into the British Legation with the news. This Legation, as the strongest building in the quarter, became the refuge of the entire diplomatic corps, with their wives, children, and servants. It was straightway invested and bombarded by the Boxers, and as the days and weeks went on the other Legation buildings were burned, and the refugees in the British Legation had to look death at all hours in the face.

The murder of von Ketteler excited anger and horror throughout the world, and in no breast, naturally, to a stronger degree than in that of the German Emperor. All nations hastened to send troops to Pekin. Japan was first on the scene with 16,000 men under General Yamagutschi. Russia followed next with 15,000 under General Lenewitch, then England with 7,500 under General Gaselee, then France with 5,000 under General Frey, then America with 4,000 under General Chaffee, Germany with 2,500 under von Hopfner, Austria and Italy with smaller contingents—in all more than 50,000 men, with 144 guns. A little later the expeditionary corps from Germany, 19,000 strong, under General von Lessel, and that from France, 10,000 strong, arrived. At the suggestion, it is said, of Russia, and by agreement among the European Powers, united by a common sympathy and in face of a common danger, the German Field-Marshal, Count Waldersee, was appointed to the supreme command of all the European forces. At the same time naval supports were hurried by all maritime nations to the scene, and within a short period 160 warships and 30 torpedo boats were assembled off the Chinese coast.

The march to Pekin and the relief of the imprisoned Europeans are incidents still fresh in public memory. In the crowded British Legation fear alternated with hope, and hope with fear, until, on the forenoon of August 14th, a boy ran into the Legation crying that "black-faced Europeans" were advancing along the royal canal in the direction of the building. In a few minutes a company of Sikh cavalry, part of some Indian troops diverted on their way to Aden, galloped up, all danger was over, and the refugees were saved.

The Boxer troubles ended on May 13, 1901, with the signature by Li Hung Chang in the name of the Emperor of China of a treaty of peace, the main conditions of which were the payment by China within thirty years of a war indemnity to the Powers of 450 million taels (£66,000,000) and an agreement to send a mission of atonement to the Courts of Germany and Japan—for among the foreign victims of the Boxers in the previous year had been the Japanese representative in China, Baron Sugiyama.

For two or three weeks the action of the Emperor with regard to the Chinese mission of atonement brought him into universal ridicule. Prince Chun, a near relative of the Chinese Emperor, who had been appointed to conduct the mission, reached Basle in September, 1901, on his way to Berlin. Here he lingered, and it soon became known that a hitch had occurred in his relations with Germany. It then transpired that the delay was caused by the Emperor's having suddenly intimated that he expected Prince Chun to make thrice to him, as he sat on his throne at Potsdam, the "kotow" as practised in the Court of China. In view of the surprise, laughter, and criticism of Europe, the Emperor modified his demand for the "kotow" to its symbolic performance by three deep bows. Prince Chun thereupon resumed his journey. An impressive, if theatrical, scene was prepared in the New Palace at Potsdam, where the Emperor, seated on the throne, his marshal's baton in his hand, and flanked by Ministers and the officers of his household, received the bearer of China's expressions of regret. Whatever one may think of the scenic effect provided, the reply the Emperor made to Prince Chun, after the three bows arranged upon had been made, is a model of its kind—general not personal, sorrowful rather than angry, warning rather than reproachful. The Emperor said—