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This book is the result of personal observations made in the course of a journey through Siberia, China, and Japan, lasting over a year, and is supplemented by information derived chiefly from official and carefully collated documents. Asia, the largest of the five Continents, is still the most densely populated; but after being the cradle of civilization, it has been for many centuries dead to all progress. It is in the awakening of this vast Continent through the influx of men and ideas from the West, by the application of modern science to the exploitation of its wealth, that consists the phenomenon which we are witnessing at the present time, and to the examination of which the author devotes the following pages.

The effect of European action in Asia does not, it is true, date from our time; it began as soon as the Asiatic invasion of Europe had ceased. In the sixteenth century, whilst the Russians were settling in Siberia, we find the Portuguese landing on the coasts of India, China, and Japan. For a long time, however, the influence of the West was merely superficial. By the middle of the nineteenth century it had scarcely reached India and a few points on the coast of Asia Minor; all the rest of Asia remained obdurate. Siberia was almost a desert, unexplored, without any communication with the outer world; China a stranger to all progress; and Japan hermetically sealed. Thus, all the temperate zones of Asia, those best suited to the white race, as well as those inhabited by the most numerous, industrious, and vigorous populations, regarded from whatever point of view, were fifty years ago completely outside of European influence. At this moment two facts of vital importance have become prominent, which have been passed over almost unnoticed by European nations, greatly preoccupied by other questions. In 1854, Japan began to open her ports to foreigners; and Russia, descending almost simultaneously from the glacial solitudes of the Okhotsk Sea, seized, at the expense of China, the banks of the Amur, thus coming into actual contact with the Celestial Empire, which hitherto she had only reached through deserts, advanced her frontier up to the boundaries of Korea, and acquired a port on the Pacific (latitude 43°), free of ice nearly all the year round. This was the moment when that awakening of Northern and Eastern Asia began which has become more and more active, especially during the last ten years.

Immediately after the conquest of the Province of the Amur, Count Muravief-Amurski, one of the prime movers in the expansion of Russia, foresaw under what conditions the Muscovite Empire could make its power felt in the Far East, and suggested the construction of a Trans-Siberian Railway, which, thirty years later, was undertaken by Alexander III. In building it, his main idea was to open a strategic route to facilitate the passage of his troops into China. The Trans-Siberian Railway was thus constructed far less in the interests of the country it traversed than for those of the countries at its opposite extremities. But it was presently discovered that the southern portion of Siberia through which the line runs possessed a climate scarcely more severe than that of Manitoba and of the far west of Canada, an equally fertile soil, with even better irrigation and still greater mineral wealth, the development of which was only prevented by the complete absence of any means of communication.

Now Siberia, instead of being shut off from the rest of the world, will be traversed by one of the most frequented routes in the universe, and its southern zone will become one of the richest possessions of the white race. The Russian peasants have a natural tendency to emigrate, and since the abolition of serfdom have been invading Siberia in great numbers, and rapidly settling there. More than 200,000 emigrants arrive there every year, and the births greatly outnumber the deaths, so that the population of the Asiatic domains of the Tsar is annually increased by more than 300,000. Russian colonization doubtless has its drawbacks, the most serious among which are lack of capital and absence of education and enterprise among the labouring classes. In spite of this, one fact remains: thanks to the Trans-Siberian Railway, a numerous white population is already occupying the whole North of Asia, from the Urals to the Pacific, and thus Russia can meanwhile make the full weight of her power felt in the Far East, which will certainly prove of incalculable benefit to the advance of modern civilization throughout Asia.

While Siberia was being colonized, and the Trans-Siberian Railway was assuming definite shape, Japan was accomplishing her extraordinary transformation. In 1854 the Powers, under threat of bombardment, forced open the gates of this feudal State, whose customs differed from ours more than those of any other Asiatic country, and the entrance to which was forbidden to foreigners under pain of death, and which for ten years was the scene of numerous outrages against them. Forty-five years later new Japan deals on a footing of equality with the European Powers; its admission to the number of civilized States is signalized by the suppression of the extra-territorial privileges of the Europeans, and it has become a centre of great industry, whose cotton stuffs compete in China with those of India, America, and Great Britain. European steamers supply themselves from her coaling-stations; her foreign commerce amounts annually to £44,000,000 sterling; her soil is intersected by 3,125 miles of railway; a crowd of little steamers, often native built, ply along her coasts, whilst regular lines of steamers fly her flag in the ports of Europe, America, and Australia; her fleet is the most powerful in the Pacific; her army, which crushed China five years ago, formed the bulk of the international troops that recently marched to the relief of the foreign Legations threatened by the Chinese. Before these realities the scepticism of those who have so long jeered at these Asiatics playing at being Europeans must perforce turn to admiration.

Many people, however, find it difficult to believe in the durability and the sincerity of Japan’s transformation. Without concealing from ourselves that the prodigious work which has been accomplished in Japan has sometimes been premature, that imitation of Europe has occasionally been pushed to excess, that it has even been directed in some points where it would have been wiser to have remained faithful to national traditions, we believe—as one of the best informed Japanese we have ever met assured us—that the great wind from the West which is blowing upon this country has come to last. We find this conviction confirmed both by observation of the Japan of the present and in the lessons taught by her past. Where the changes have been carried too far, certain unassimilated and unessential scoriæ will be eliminated, but the better part of the work will remain and a new Japan be the result, in many points similar to Europe in the scientific and material sense of civilization—profoundly modified and brought nearer to the West, yet differing from us from the social and moral point of view. In short, we have confidence in the future of Japan, if she only takes the lessons she has received to heart, and if she be not over-proud of being the ‘Great Britain of the Far East,’ and is not carried away by a spirit of aggrandizement that may exhaust her resources. The prudent policy which she appears to have adopted in the face of the present crisis in China is, however, of a character well calculated to reassure her friends.

The study of the Chinese problem closes this volume. The Celestial Empire, so far from being revivified like its neighbours, has resolutely made no concession to Western civilization. As long as China had only to trouble over the intermittent and not far-reaching action of Western Powers, distracted by a thousand other cares, and whose commercial activity found outlets in other directions, she had not much difficulty in maintaining her isolation.

From the moment, however, when she found herself face to face with near and powerful neighbors, rejuvenated nations, from whose eyes her incurable weaknesses were not screened by the illusion of distance, she was destined, if she did not yield with a good grace, to be swept along by the torrent of innovation which she has so long and so vainly sought to resist. Japan, by her victories in a war which was in reality a war of Western Science versus Chinese Routine, a war of Progress against Stagnation, in 1895 forced open the gates of China. If she had not done so then, undoubtedly Russia would have achieved the same work a few years later, after the construction of the Trans-Siberian Railway. The Middle Kingdom no longer frightens the world by its vastness, and those innovations which it abhors are now thrust upon it by foreigners; thus has been brought about a situation pregnant with political and economical consequences still further complicated by the rivalries of the European nations vying with each other to realize a transformation from which they hope to reap enormous advantages.

We have also endeavoured in this book to note down the salient features of the present position, the knowledge of which may serve to throw a light on the future of the Celestial Empire. Firstly, by recalling the detestable Government imposed upon China by the all-powerful class of literati, who remain petrified in their stubborn pride, incurable routinists, and hostile to progress; then, in contrast to the decrepitude of this Government, the vitality of the people, whose undeniable defects are compensated by an endurance, perseverance, and commercial ability of the highest order; the attitude of this people towards Europeans and their civilization, the part hitherto played by the latter, their trade in the ports, and the quite recent beginnings of great industries in these very ports; the concessions for various undertakings granted during the last four years to these very Europeans who are at last emerging from the few acres in which they had hitherto been penned at infrequent points along the coast or on the banks of the Yang-tsze, and who are abandoning their exclusive devotion to trade in order to carry out a system of real colonization by applying Western methods to the realization of the wealth of China; and finally the disquieting spectacle of the Powers in rivalry around this decrepit Empire, on which none dare lay a too heavy hand lest it crumble away and they lose the best pieces, which each of them dreams eventually of annexing.

Since this book was published in France, in April this year, a particularly grave crisis has arisen in China. The most violently reactionary faction in the Court of Peking has seized the reins of power and has headed a movement for the extermination of the foreigner; the regular army, making common cause with the fanatical adherents of secret societies, has besieged in their Legations the Ministers of all the nations, and has opposed the onward march of the troops despatched to their relief; hundreds of missionaries and thousands of native Christians have been butchered throughout the Empire, and everywhere, even in the Treaty Ports, the security of Europeans has been menaced. These appalling events have, it would seem, taken Europe quite unprepared, although warnings were not wanting. A perusal of a file of the Hong-Kong and Shanghai newspapers will easily prove that great uneasiness prevailed as far back as last spring, if not in the Legations, at any rate in the Treaty Ports.

The present crisis will, it is true, not be a matter of much surprise to those who have studied China. The reader will notice several passages in this book in which we are reminded of the necessity of proceeding with the utmost caution in introducing progressive measures into the ancient Empire, if we wish to avoid an outbreak culminating in a sanguinary upheaval and the possible collapse of that worm-eaten structure. It would appear, however, in fact, that during the past three years the ill-advised action of Europe has done everything to bring about such a disaster.

Too numerous railway and mining concessions, preliminary works commenced simultaneously in a great number of localities, without sufficient regard for the superstitions of the natives, the invasion by foreign engineers and foremen with overbearing manners, could not but irritate the Chinese, and prepare the ground for agitators and agents of the secret societies and (unemployed) literati who swarm everywhere. The violent action of Germany at Kiao-chau, followed by the seizure of many points on the coast by the other Powers, readily induced the Court and literati to believe that the Foreign Powers intended to partition China, and treat her as a conquered country.

The governing classes among the Chinese have little patriotism, as we understand it, but they tremble for their salaries and privileges, and, in common with the populace, they beheld with horror the prospective violation of their ancient customs. They could not therefore be expected to repress with any energy disturbances with whose authors they were in cordial sympathy. Again, the dynasty of foreign origin which reigns in China is now worn out and tottering; it knows that any concession made to the foreigner will be turned to its disadvantage, that the best means of recovering prestige is to pose as the enemy of the Western civilization; it has even to fear that any great opposition on its part to popular prejudice may one day lead to its being swept away.

What wonder, then, that under the rule of the old Dowager Empress—an energetic Sovereign, perhaps, but ignorant, like the harem recluse she is, and, moreover, passionate, like most women—the Court viewed benignly the organization known as the I-ho-chuan, almost literally, ‘League of Patriots,’ which we call ‘Boxers,’ who first spread themselves over Shan-tung, where the foreigners had displayed the greatest brutality and tactlessness! The creatures of the Empress, narrow-minded and brutal Manchu princes, mandarins of an ultra-reactionary type, who, having never been brought into contact with Europeans, are ignorant of the latter’s strength—all these people whom the Palace revolution in September, 1898, exalted to power, and who exercise it without control since the exile of Li Hung-chang to his distant Viceroyalty of Canton, have not learned how to observe the precautions which at one time guided that wily old fox.

Imperial edicts have favoured the Boxers, ‘those loyal subjects who cultivate athletics for the protection of their families, and who bind together different villages for the purpose of mutual protection.’ In this association, affiliated with other secret societies, it was sought to discover a prop for the dynasty both at home and abroad. Arms were procured from Europe, intended either for the rebels or the regular army, and then, as always happens with feeble Governments in times of trouble, it was found impossible to stem the torrent so easily let loose, and increasing violence soon got the upper hand. The Empress even appears to have been overwhelmed by factions more reactionary and fanatical than herself—factions at whose head stands Prince Tuan, father of the recently adopted heir-presumptive.

Such is the genesis of the present crisis. What are to be the consequences? They would be very grave if the chiefs of the movement hostile to foreigners removed the present Emperor to some distant place, and refused to negotiate on anything like reasonable terms, or if, leaving him in the hands of the Europeans, they should raise a competitor against him. The Emperor, whose accession to the Celestial throne is, in any case, according to Chinese ideas, irregular, and who has exasperated the mandarins by his attempts at reform, would thus run a great risk of being considered a usurper, both in the eyes of the people and the literati. What could the Powers do in such a case? We hardly dare dream of such a laborious, costly, and deadly undertaking as would be an expedition five or six hundred miles from the coast into the heart of a country like China, devoid of good means of transport, and where a large European army would find existence difficult. Besides, in the midst of complete anarchy and civil war, the Powers, whose union is already so unstable, would be forced to interfere, with the risk of irreparable disputes arising between them all at the finish.

Even if the Court should come to terms and no competition for the Empire arise, the situation in China will none the less present great difficulties. The installation in Peking of an Emperor surrounded by councillors approved by the West and watched by a foreign garrison, which would be the most desirable end of the present acute crisis, would not suffice to restore order throughout the Empire. All the elements of agitation are now at boiling-point, and it is even to be feared that ere the allies are able to act vigorously on the offensive, the anti-foreign movement will have gained ground in the provinces. The prestige of the Manchu dynasty, greatly damaged already, will be still further lowered when the Emperor is exhibited as the puppet of the West. Ambitious aspirants of all sorts, Chinese patriots inimical to both Manchu and foreigner, even legitimate representatives of the ancient Ming Dynasty, will all of them seek to profit by this state of things, and, fishing in troubled waters, cause thereby a general recrudescence of insurrection, fomented by the secret societies. Will the Chinese Government succeed in repressing them by its own forces? This is not at all certain, and in that case will Europe charge herself with all the political, military, and financial risks involved in the exercise of such an avocation and become the police of China?

It will perhaps be said that if the Manchu Dynasty can no longer maintain itself, it may be best to leave it to its fate and allow it to be replaced by another. A new, popular, and strong Government would then appear upon the scene, which would find it easier to observe the engagements imposed upon it.^[6]

But apart from the fact that this new Government might perhaps be very hostile to foreigners and difficult to bring to reason, the Manchus are not yet stripped of all power, and their overthrow would not be effected without a devastating civil war, lasting probably many years. Europe is now too much interested in China to encourage such a catastrophe.

On the other hand, nobody desires the partition of the Celestial Empire. To begin with, the chief eventual rivals are not ready: Russia has not completed her Trans-Siberian Railway; England is hampered with her interminable war in South Africa; the United States, with a large portion of its population opposed to outside extension, insists that no part of the Middle Kingdom shall be closed to them—in other words, that it shall not be dismembered; Japan has not completed her armaments; her finances require careful attention, and she feels, besides, that she cannot act alone. France has every reason for averting a partition, in which her share (the provinces adjoining Tongking) would be a very poor one; and finally, the present insurrectionary movement should prove to the world—including Germany, who took so indiscreet an initiative at Kiao-chau—that it would not be easy to govern the Celestials after European methods, and that the mere task of establishing order in a large colony carved out of China might be beyond the strength even of the European Powers.

This being the case, the only policy possible for all countries is to abandon for the present their personal aims, and to endeavour in unison to patch up the Manchu system. To depart from this line of action is to proceed to disaster. But the Powers will have to display some wisdom for a few years to come if this bolstering process is to have the least chance of success. The Court and the populace of the capital should be given a not-easily-forgotten lesson: let the instigators of the proposed murders of the ministers be delivered up and made to pay for their cowardly conduct; if necessary, even let their bodies be left unburied, which, in the eyes of the Chinese, is the most terrible of all punishments; let the old Empress be exiled if it should appear necessary to remove her from power. But after all this is done, let the legal order of succession be respected. While putting pressure on the Court to appoint moderate or even slightly progressive men to the head of affairs, avoid a too direct and a too evident interference in the selection of rulers, which would be perilously inadvisable. On the one hand, the Powers would soon cease to act in unison, each considering such and such a grand mandarin more or less its friend and such another its enemy; and on the other hand, the men chosen would lose all authority, as they would be looked upon as agents of the foreigners. Against this, it is absolutely indispensable that Peking and Tien-tsin should be occupied during several years by a strong garrison, otherwise it will be said that the foreign soldiery have departed through fear, and that the permanent fortification of Ta-ku should be forbidden.

These last measures doubtless involve certain inconveniences, granting the difficulty of maintaining harmony between the various Powers, but if they should be neglected the lesson would risk being too soon forgotten, as were those of 1860 and 1894–95; moreover, they would provide a means of permanent pressure on the Chinese Government.

Nevertheless, if it is important to strike hard at the centre, the more reason have we to refrain from any act calculated to lower in the provinces the prestige and the authority of a regime, the sources of whose weakness are already numerous. The threat of popular risings will continue one of the serious dangers of the position in the Far East; to avoid them, we must not seize upon the first incident that arises as a pretext for demanding concessions, the extortion of which disturbs and estranges the mandarins, whilst their execution irritates the people. If we do not accept such a course, we run the risk of creating permanent anarchy. The surest way of obtaining tranquillity in China would be a formal, or at any rate a tacit, international understanding binding the Powers for some years not to support at Peking any demand for a concession as long as the greater number of railways now under construction are not completed. That would, moreover, enable European capitalists, who have not been very eager to take up Chinese loans, to ascertain the value of their investments in the Middle Kingdom. We believe that the business and practical sense so highly developed in the Chinese will induce them to become reconciled to the material side of our civilization, but by multiplying simultaneously in every direction preliminary works, say, for railways, we annoy them and wound their susceptibilities before giving them a chance to appreciate the advantage of our innovations, not to mention the economical disturbance arising therefrom.

In conclusion, although patriotism is at a low ebb in the Middle Kingdom and the military spirit still lower, we might, by worrying the Chinese too much, end by creating the one and resuscitating the other. In any case, if the Chinese make bad soldiers—chiefly because they have detestable officers—they are first-class rioters. Wherefore any idea of dividing China, either now or at some future time, seems to us ill-advised. Passing events will have taught a useful lesson, should they bring Europe to abandon once and for ever this fatal idea. It was very wisely said in the English Parliament during the present crisis that ‘China must be governed by the Chinese and for the Chinese,’ which does not mean that it should be governed against the foreigners. Let us hope that all Europe will frankly take to heart this sagacious remark.

PIERRE LEROY-BEAULIEU.