Peking the mysterious; in some details very ugly; in its
mass so beautiful; such a sharpness in its silhouettes, such a
richness in its colours, due to that clear northern air; the
yellow of the palace roofs shining in the sun; and many of the
curly roofs with funny little figures on the eaves and ridges;
crimson gates and crimson wooden outer columns of the houses;
and general magnificence in such a palace as housed the British
Minister.
We took a very modest house — for Peking. It and its many
courtyards covered half an acre; a series of separate bungalows
— there were five of them joined more or less by covered
passages; the biggest was our drawing-room with no ceiling,
its massive wooden beams exposed. Mostly the windows were
of paper. It took sixteen tons of coal a month to warm that
house in winter — it was carried in by camels.
And now about my post. It was the Ministry of Communications that wanted me. Nominally they wished me to
frame a Merchant Shipping Act — a tidy little job; actually, as
I later found, they did not care tuppence about that detail.
What they wanted was that I should show a way by which, in
the control of Chinese shipping, the Customs Service could be
ousted.
The salary I claimed for giving up the Coast Inspectorship
was higher than there was any precedent for giving an Adviser;
so my friend the Minister of the Navy came to the rescue and
made me Adviser to that Ministry as well, and it was understood that mostly it would be a sinecure; lastly, there was a
clause in my agreement making up the balance by an allowance
of several hundred pounds a year for axle-grease — an archaic
synonym for travelling expenses.
So I was launched; and then began a busy, a strenuous and
a most interesting time. Twice a week I went the ninety miles
to Tientsin to attend on Chihli river work. The other days I
went to my specially built Shipping Law Office at the Ministry
of Communications. Now and then I was given a special job;
for example, a claim by a foreigner against the Government
would be referred to me; and I would investigate and see the
foreign Minister concerned and get the matter settled out of
hand. My previous experience in shipping arbitration came in
useful here. Of the River Commission at Tientsin I have not
much to say, because to give even a minor picture of it would
take several chapters. We were a happy, laughing, quarrelling
lot of several nationalities: some Chinese, an Italian, a Dutchman, a Swede and myself, an Englishman. Apart from language there were different modes of thought to deal with. The
Italian said, ' Mr Chairman, I demand an answer to my question '; but he only meant that he requested it. On the staff
was an American engineer, as charming in his manners as he
was capable in his work. At one time we had as Engineer-in-
Chief a Greek. Now in our departmental correspondence we
had dropped all honorifics and used simple memorandum
forms. I wrote such a memorandum to the Greek soon after
his appointment, and he returned it in the chit book as unbecoming to his dignity to receive — and he resigned. There
was an affair that makes me very sad to think of. The Dutchman was a charming fellow, and I was very fond of him; but
he became obstructive, so obstructive that eventually I considered it my duty to recommend his removal from the Commission. Later he had the opportunity to put a spoke in my
wheel; I understood he took it, and I do not blame him. I was
possibly too strenuous with him, and I have a feeling of
remorse about it.
Eventually we decided to get the best river engineer the
world could give us, whatever he might cost. The Mississippi
with a physical regime somewhat similar to that of the Yellow
river pointed to America for such a man; but I knew no
means by which we could assure a satisfactory selection, and
I feared a commitment that might lead to diplomatic trouble.
So we turned to India and got the services of Mr. Rose, the
retiring head of the Public Works Department there, and, when
I left China, he also took over my duties as Chairman.
In my Peking office my nose was buried in a mass of tomes
on Shipping Law. As Coast Inspector I had already controlled
the safety side of shipping and the details of tonnage measurement; but now came, for example, such a matter as the
Limitation of Liability in accidents — which of course ought to
be uniform throughout the world, but is not. In this and other
matters I had to study what was done in other countries — a
fatiguing operation calling for the closest concentration, but
because I was interested it was not altogether dull.
The Ministry of Communications cared only for the ousting
of the Customs from the control of shipping. I think now
that they assumed I was intelligent enough to know their
meaning without being told; but I was not. I assumed they
wanted a practicable scheme; no such scheme was practicable
without a preparatory period of mutual co-operation between
the Customs and the Ministry, and that they vigorously
objected to. Wang Tsung-wei, the Judge in charge of Law
Revision, and a man of great capacity, tried to put me straight
— to impress upon me that whether I was right or wrong,
whether a scheme was practicable or not, the Ministry was
determined to run the Customs out from the control of
shipping.
Now came another complication. A bureaucratic control
of shipping would mean innumerable posts, and so the Ministry
of the Navy claimed it was they and not Communications who
should run it; and they expected my support. And when I
would not give it they impeached me for incompetence, and I
was a member of the commission that was formed to investigate
the matter, and which vindicated me. I believe that the instigator of that business was the officer who at Weihaiwei in
'94 had been insubordinate and who had publicly apologized
instead of having his head cut off. Yet the Minister of the
Navy was undoubtedly my friend, which shows of course how
much a Minister is in the hands of his departmental heads.
There at Peking I had a still wider scope for my faculty of
interference in general affairs. I learnt something of how the
several legations viewed or did not view the situation, and how
little they were doing or could do about it owing to mutual
jealousies. China was becoming more and more disgruntled.
She did not know enough to know what were her real grievances,
and worried imaginary ones to death. Japan was steadily
intriguing, as was natural, fomenting trouble from the South
and getting Chinese statesmen in her clutches. In the absence
of some Western statesmanship there seemed a danger of
China becoming inoculated, against her will, by the Pan-
Asiatic virus of Japan; and thus the seed of future serious
danger for the Western world. So I wrote an anonymous
propaganda pamphlet ` China, Japan, and the Peace of the
World,' and provided that statesmen in America, France and
England should read it. But it soon was out of date, for I
had not foreseen the danger of Bolshevism.
Already in 1918 the British Intelligence Department had
feared the effect of Bolshevism in China. I was spoken to
about it. I did not believe in it. The soil of Bolshevism was a
state of chaos, and China, whatever appearances might be, was
the least liable to real chaos of any country in the world.
Effective government of sorts went on — regardless of the
absence of a central government — by means of that peculiar
automatism provided by the precepts of the ancient sages. I
was only partly wrong.
In 1919 there happened a very curious political affair, concerning which I was the only Westerner who knew something
of its ins and outs; and I think it was because of that that my
box of archives was ransacked, and the dossier of the episode,
my propaganda pamphlets, some diaries and other papers
stolen.
A portion of the Amur river forms the boundary between
Russia and Manchuria, but its lower part runs in Russian
territory.
By a Russo-Chinese treaty of many years before,
China had the right to send her merchant vessels up the river
from the sea and to be in joint control of the river where it
forms the boundary. 'There had, however, been no attempt to
exercise that right, and unquestionably Russia, with her ambitions about Manchuria and her practical possession of its
northern part, had later no intention that China should. But
now, with the weakening of Russia from the war and revolution,
Peking thought the time had come to act. Before I left the
Customs Sir Francis Aglen passed on to me a suggestion from
the Government that we send a Customs cruiser to earmark
China's right; but I explained that the navigation of the
Russian section was, by implication in the treaty, obviously
restricted to Chinese merchant vessels, and I heard no more
about the matter then. But when I was Adviser it was
decided that there should be a Russo-Chinese meeting at
Harbin to draw up a convention about the control of the jointly
owned section of the river; and I was appointed as a delegate
to it. A day or two before we left Peking I got some news that
made my hair stand up on end. The Ministry of the Navy,
acting in conjunction with the Foreign Office, was sending a
flotilla of gunboats to Nikolaievsk to ascend the river. They
thought they had the right to do so; the question did not come
within the reference of the impending conference; so they
thought it would be good policy to exercise it. But quite
clearly that right did not belong to China, and, even had
the matter been in doubt, the method was bound to kill
the projected conference. So I visited the Foreign Office
and told them of the facts; the expedition could end
in nothing but disgrace; and I handed in my view in
writing. The effect of what I said I could not tell; I could
only hope that they might realize their utter foolishness before
it was too late.
I reached Harbin about the 12th October 1919. There were
no signs of Russian delegates; let it be said at once that there
never was a sign of them. But to my astonishment I found
there a Chinese Admiral of the Amur river, whose name was
Wang. From time to time — I stayed three weeks at Harbin —
he told me of the movement of that expedition. I wish I could
give the details of that story — how Russia set the trap and
baited it; but I have only my memory to trust to plus a few
notes I still possess. The trap was baited with plaintive
remonstrance about the object of the expedition so as to
simulate regretted weakness; and the object of the trap was
to make China so lose face about the Amur river that she
would drop the rights she had upon it. But partly, perhaps,
it was a joke by the Vladivostok military authorities — they
would stage a booby-trap for China so as to have a cause to
laugh at her discomfiture. On Russia's side there was, at the
time, a muddle of conflicting authorities — at Vladivostok
there were both Whites and Reds; at Peking the Legation had
the old Imperial staff.
I am not sure what part Japan took in this affair; but
for once her wishes and Russia's marched together. Neither
wanted China on the Amur; Japan because she aimed at
getting there herself some time in the future. Perhaps Japan
took no active part in this burlesque; it may be she just looked
on as at an entertainment.
On the 15th October I heard that the officer in charge of the
flotilla on arrival at Vladivostok had been warned that he had
no right to navigate the Russian Amur; but the nature of that
warning only added to his hopes of carrying out his mission;
and he proceeded up the coast.
It was now that I felt sure a trap was set, so I telegraphed to
my Ministry asking it to pass on to the Cabinet a message from
me that the expedition, if not recalled by a telegram to Nikolaievsk, must be involved either in humiliation or disaster. I
had no right at that time to address the Cabinet and I did not
expect to get an answer, but I did: a polite reply that gave no
information. The next I heard was of the arrival of the boats
at Nikolaievsk. They had been refused pilots in the complicated narrows between Saghalien and the mainland, but had
managed quite skilfully to do without them. A Japanese
cruiser had shadowed them on the way; and I supposed at the
time that the Japanese were playing a double game, urging the
Chinese on to their discomfiture and advising the Russians to
resist them in due course. When the flotilla reached Nikolaievsk it was well received, and I believe the officers were
entertained; and again they were told they must not go up
the river. The Chinese Commanders, however, had no
discretion in the matter; they had been ordered to go, and
go they must unless actively resisted; and with winter
coming on there was no time to lose. So at night time
they left the harbour and steamed up the river, and that the
prevention of their departure was deliberately withheld there
cannot be a doubt.
And now I heard that a Russian General with troops and
field-guns had entrained at Vladivostok for Khabarovsk, at the
upper end of the Russian Amur, and somewhere in that neighbourhood they waited for the Chinese vessels.
That steaming up the river would be a great adventure to the
Chinese Captains. They had defied great Russia and seemingly had gained their point; they would be chock-a-block
with pride, and hope, and satisfaction. They had steamed
five hundred miles, and in a few hours' time would reach
Manchuria and gain complete success. But it was not to be.
Suddenly they were fired on; and inspired by the pride of
their hitherto success and the nearness of their goal, they went
to general quarters and fired back. The details of that fight I
never heard. I believe those gunboats were the modern ones
— like little battleships with armoured decks — which would
take a lot of sinking by field-guns; but those guns on shore
were mobile and could travel faster than the boats, which had
the stream against them, and moreover they could hide, while
the vessels were always in the open. There were casualties on
either side, but I never heard how many. I believe those boats
put up quite a gallant little fight, but in the end they gave it up;
the trap had closed upon them. So they crawled back to
Nikolaievsk; and then the river froze, and they had to stay
there all the winter.
So far as I know no diplomatic word was said about the
matter. The Chinese Government's sole concern was to hush
it up. To me the Russian Legation shrugged its shoulders
and regretted the affair; it was Vladivostok that had acted,
and it was independent of control. [click]