The China Question: Great Power Rivalry and British Isolation, 1894-1905

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THE CHINA QUESTION

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The China Question Great Power Rivalry and British Isolation, 1894–1905 T. G. OT TE

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Great Clarendon Street, Oxford OX2 6DP Oxford University Press is a department of the University of Oxford. It furthers the University’s objective of excellence in research, scholarship, and education by publishing worldwide in Oxford New York Auckland Cape Town Dar es Salaam Hong Kong Karachi Kuala Lumpur Madrid Melbourne Mexico City Nairobi New Delhi Shanghai Taipei Toronto With ofﬁces in Argentina Austria Brazil Chile Czech Republic France Greece Guatemala Hungary Italy Japan Poland Portugal Singapore South Korea Switzerland Thailand Turkey Ukraine Vietnam Oxford is a registered trade mark of Oxford University Press in the UK and in certain other countries Published in the United States by Oxford University Press Inc., New York © T. G. Otte 2007 The moral rights of the author have been asserted Database right Oxford University Press (maker) First published 2007 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of Oxford University Press, or as expressly permitted by law, or under terms agreed with the appropriate reprographics rights organization. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside the scope of the above should be sent to the Rights Department, Oxford University Press, at the address above You must not circulate this book in any other binding or cover and you must impose the same condition on any acquirer British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data Data available Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data Data available Typeset by Newgen Imaging Systems (P) Ltd., Chennai, India Printed in Great Britain on acid-free paper by Biddles Ltd., King’s Lynn, Norfolk ISBN 978–0–19–921109–8 1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2

Contents Preface and Acknowledgements Abbreviations Introduction

vi viii 1

1. ‘An inﬁnitely larger Eastern question’: The Powers and the Sino-Japanese War, 1894–5

28

2. ‘Cartographic Consolation’: The Powers and the China Question, 1895–8

74

3. ‘Some Curious Conversations’: Alliances and Agreements, 1898–9

133

4. ‘Letting things settle themselves’: The China Question, 1899–1900

177

5. ‘Cross-currents’: The International Politics of Post-Boxer China, 1900–1

216

6. The Mirage of Alliances: British Isolation and the Far East, 1901–5

269

Conclusion

326

Select Bibliography Index

338 357

Preface and Acknowledgements They say that the consuls all grow a little odd; and the merchants who can live for thirty-ﬁve years in China without learning enough of the language to ask their way in the street say it is because they have to study Chinese. W. Somerset Maugham, ‘The Consul’

In the course of my research I have incurred debts of gratitude to a number of friends and colleagues. Erik Goldstein knows how much I owe him for his constant and never failing encouragement and support. I also owe a particular debt to J. A. S. Grenville, who ﬁrst stimulated my interest in ‘the great Markis’, and who gave thoughtful and illuminating advice during my ﬁrst faltering steps as an historian. I want to thank Keith Neilson more especially. He made time in his busy schedule to read the whole manuscript, and gave pertinent advice on a necessary slimming cure for it. I am grateful to Peter Marsh for explaining the importance of screws in understanding Joseph Chamberlain’s foreign policy outlook. Nicholas Rothschild very kindly shared with me information on the clandestine activities of ‘Mr Alfred’. For their many kindnesses I am indebted to Sven Bergmann, Tadashi Kuramatsu, the late Oliver Marlow Wilkinson, and Constantine A. Pagedas, a fellow student of diplomacy and a good friend. I am grateful to Philip Judge for placing his cartographical skills at my disposal. Thanks are also due to Christopher Wheeler, the patient but always supportive History Editor at Oxford University Press. Whatever may be worthwhile in this book has greatly beneﬁted from their assistance. Mine alone is the responsibility for any deﬁciencies. In the RAE-driven world of modern British academia ﬁnancial support matters in more than one way, and I am happy to acknowledge my gratitude to the Arts and Humanities Research Council for a research leave grant, which enabled me to complete this book. It was decided to give Chinese place and personal names in the Wade-Giles transliteration rather than in pinyin romanization, so as to ensure a degree of uniformity with the contemporary sources on which this study is based. For their kind permission to quote from material to which they hold the copyright, I am grateful to the following: the Baker Library, Harvard

Preface and Acknowledgements

vii

University; The Rt. Hon. the Earl of Balfour; Birmingham University Library; the Bodleian Library; the Trustees of the British Library; the Syndics of Cambridge University Library; the Trustees of the Chatsworth estate; the Master and Fellows of Churchill College; the Gloucestershire Record Ofﬁce; the Hampshire Record Ofﬁce; the Herefordshire County Record Ofﬁce; the Houghton Library, Harvard University; the Imperial War Museum; the Kent Archives Ofﬁce; the Library of Congress; the National Archives of Scotland; the National Library of Scotland; N. M. Rothschild Archives and Library; The Most Hon. the Marquis of Salisbury; the United States National Archives. Crown copyright material is quoted by permission of the Controller of Her Majesty’s Stationery Ofﬁce. My sincerest apologies to anyone whose copyright I may have infringed inadvertently. Finally, I owe a special debt of gratitude to my parents for their constant support and encouragement. My greatest debt, however, is to my wife Joanna and daughter Gwendolen. Joanna kept the home ﬁres burning, while I dwelt on and in the past, and it is to her that I dedicate this book. T.G.O. Little Snoring, Norfolk Autumn 2006

Abbreviations Sources followed by an editor’s name can be found in the Published Sources Section of the Bibliography; other Sources are under Private Papers in the Manuscript Sources Section. AHR AJPH AUS BBBP BCC BD BIHR BwM BM CBH CEH CER CHJ CID CJH CM CNR CR DAB DDF DDI DG DJ DMI DNI D&S EcHR EdR EG EHD EHR

American Historical Review. Australian Journal of Politics and History. Assistant Under-Secretary. Bescheiden Betreffende de Buitenlandse Politiek van Nederland. British and Chinese Corporation. British Documents on the Origins of the War, 1898–1914, ed. Gooch and Temperley. Bulletin of the Institute of Historical Research. Blackwood’s Magazine. Berliner Monatshefte. Contemporary British History. Central European History. Chinese Eastern Railway. Cambridge Historical Journal. Committee of Imperial Defence. Canadian Journal of History. Camden Miscellanies. Chinese Northern Railway. Contemporary Review. Deutsch-Asiatische Bank. Documents Diplomatiques Français. I Documenti Diplomatici Italiani. Die Gesellschaft. Diplomacy of Japan. Director of Military Intelligence. Director of Naval Intelligence. Diplomacy and Statecraft. Economic History Review. Edinburgh Review. Europäische Gespräche: Hamburger Monatshefte für auswärtige Politik. Edward Hamilton Diary, 1894–5, ed. Brooks. English Historical Review.

Abbreviations EJL EulP FR FRUS GD GEM GJ GP HP HatzP HD HJ HSBC HZ IA ICMCS IG IHR IRNC JBS JbVFM JCH JICH JMH JSS KA KJ KP LQV MA MAS MM NID NLWJ NPL NR PBA PCC PD PHR PrJb

ix

Esher Journals and Letters. Eulenburg Politische Korrespondenz. Fortnightly Review. Foreign Relations of the United States. Gladstone Diaries, ed. Matthew. G. E. Morrison Correspondence, ed. Lo Hui-min. Geographical Journal. Grosse Politik der europäischen Kabinette. Holstein Papers, ed. Rich and Fisher. Hatzfeldt: Nachgelassene Papiere, ed. Ebel. The Diary of Sir Edward Hamilton, ed. Bahlman. Historical Journal. Hong Kong and Shanghai Banking Corporation. Historische Zeitschrift. International Affairs. Imperial Chinese Maritime Customs Service. Letters of Sir Robert Hart, ed. Fairbank. International History Review. Imperial Railways of Northern China. Journal of British Studies. Jahresberichte über die Veränderungen und Fortschritte im Militärwesen. Journal of Contemporary History. Journal of Imperial and Commonwealth History. Journal of Modern History. Journal of Strategic Studies. Krasni Arkhiv. Kimberley Journal. Kimberley Papers. Letters of Queen Victoria, ed. Buckle. Military Affairs. Modern Asian Studies. Mariner’s Mirror. Naval Intelligence Department. National Library of Wales Journal. Neue Politische Literatur. National Review. Proceedings of the British Academy. Paul Cambon Correspondence, ed. Cambon. Parliamentary Debates. Paciﬁc Historical Review. Preussische Jahrbücher.

x PSQ PUS QR RCB RHD RUSIJ S-BC SC SEER SelP SpP STICERD TH TJHS TRHS W&S WWA ZfP

Abbreviations Political Science Quarterly. Permament Under-Secretary. Quarterly Review. Russo-Chinese Bank. Revue d’Histoire Diplomatique. Royal United Services Institute Journal. Salisbury-Balfour Correspondence, ed. Harcourt Williams. Staal Correspondance, ed. Meyendorff. Slavonic and East European Review. Selborne Papers. Spencer Papers, ed. Gordon. Suntory and Toyota International Centre for Economics and Related Disciplines. The Historian. Transactions of the Jewish History Society. Transactions of the Royal Historical Society. War and Society. Weltwirtschaftsarchiv. Zeitschrift für Politik.

Map 1. China and the Powers, 1894–1905

KINCHAU

N

SHANHAIKWAN PEKING KAIPING Paotingfu

TIENTSIN

LUTAI

YELLOW SEA

GULF OF PECHIHLI

Taku

TALIENWAN PORT ARTHUR

MOUTHS OF THE HWANG-HO Chefoo

WEIHAIWEI 0

Map 2. The Theatre of War, 1900–1

miles

100

Introduction The penultimate decade of the long nineteenth century was a period of unprecedented global crises. The most pressing international issue between 1894 and 1905 was the ‘China Question’. China’s future development, indeed survival, was the most complex problem facing the Great Powers outside Europe. The frantic ‘scramble for Africa’ or the more intense drama of the ‘Eastern Question’ notwithstanding, the anticipated collapse of the Chinese Empire had wider ramiﬁcations for the Powers. This ‘inﬁnitely larger Eastern question’ seemed ‘pregnant with possibilities of a disastrous kind; and it might result in an Armageddon between the European Powers struggling for the ruins of the Chinese Empire’.¹ This was no mere hyperbole by a highly-strung politician. In the ﬁrst half of the nineteenth century, China’s gradual incorporation into a Western system of international relations was driven by two simultaneous developments: the internal weakening of the ruling Manchu or Ch’ing dynasty in the wake of the Taiping Rebellion (1850–64) and the expansion of European Powers aided by superior technology, which opened China to Western commerce, diplomacy, and missionary activities. As a result of the ‘treaty system’, which was forced upon China after 1860, large parts of the Chinese Empire were turned ‘into an uncolonized extension of Empire’.² Following Japan’s swift victory over China in 1894–5 the corridors of the chancelleries of Europe reverberated to the sound of the China Question. In the social Darwinist parlance of the late 1890s, China had become the latest link in the chain of seemingly moribund countries. The notion of the imminent collapse of China ‘spread like an

¹ Rosebery to Cromer (secret), 22 Apr. 1895, Cromer MSS, FO 633/7. ² J. Osterhammel, ‘Britain and China, 1842–1914’, The Oxford History of the British Empire, iii, The Nineteenth Century, ed. A. Porter and A. Low (Oxford, 1999), 147. See also The Chinese World Order: Traditional China’s Foreign Relations, ed. J. K. Fairbank (Cambridge, Mass., 1968); G. W. Gong, ‘China’s Entry into International Society’, The Expansion of International Society, ed. H. Bull and A. Watson (Oxford, 1984), 171–83; W. C. Costin, Great Britain and China, 1833–1860 (Oxford, 1937); I. C. Y. Hsü, The Rise of Modern China (New York, 2nd edn. 1975), 267–76.

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Introduction

epidemic throughout Europe’. To many contemporary observers ‘China had taken the place of Turkey as the pre-eminent Sick Man’.³ Lord Salisbury gave the perhaps most poignant expression to this phenomenon in his oft-quoted ‘dying nations’ speech to the Primrose League in May 1898. His prediction, that ‘the living nations will gradually encroach on the territory of the dying and the seeds of conﬂict among civilized nations will gradually appear’, was prescient.⁴ Until 1905 the China Question overshadowed all other international issues. China’s weakness coincided with, and stimulated further, a new expansionist dynamic in international relations. China became an object of Great Power politics. Relations between the Great Powers were thus projected outwards from the European core area onto the East Asian periphery. The foreign policy elites of Europe were ‘compelled to follow carefully every change in the political barometer in China and Europe—for the political situation in one sphere affected the situation in the other.’⁵ There was a profound irony about the China Question. The implosion and break-up of China were predicted with varying degrees of imminence, fuelling Great Power competition in the region. At the same time, there was a tacit understanding among the statesmen of Europe that a formal partition of China was best avoided. Their caution, starkly contrasted by the expansionist hyperbole of public debate, was inﬂuenced by a combination of factors. Unlike Africa, China was not a readily identiﬁable power vacuum that could be ﬁlled. China might have had the appearance of ‘a group of loosely federated satrapies’ but, given her high degree of cultural and ethnic homogeneity, direct foreign rule was always likely to meet with ﬁerce resistance by the Chinese population.⁶ Moreover, in the scramble for railway, mining, and other commercial concessions after 1895, the nature of China’s relations with the foreign Powers was profoundly changed. For such concessions entailed capital export; and this required political stability. The preservation of China was in the logic of ﬁnancial imperialism. China, therefore, does not ﬁt neatly into Renouvin’s characterization of the nineteenth century as ‘l’époque du partage du monde’, though this did not ³ Quotes from Holstein memoirs HP i, 179; and A. J. P. Taylor, The Struggle for Mastery in Europe, 1848–1918 (Oxford, 1954), 391. The French acting consul at Shanghai even concluded that ‘La Chine . . . c’est un cadavre prêt à être dépecé et qui s’offre de lui même au couteau’, Claudel to Hanotaux (no. 41), 19 Nov. 1897, DDF (1) xiii, no. 362. ⁴ The Times (18 May 1898); cf. also T. Richards, The Imperial Archive: Knowledge and Fantasy of Empire (London, 1993), 3–7; A. L. March, The Idea of China: Myth and Theory in Geographic Thought (Newton Abbott, 1974). ⁵ P. Joseph, Foreign Diplomacy in China, 1894–1900 (London, 1928), 416–17. ⁶ Satow diary, 8 Oct. 1901, Satow MSS, PRO 30/33/16/3.

Introduction

3

preclude the establishment, by means of coercive diplomacy, of foreign bridgeheads on Chinese soil, usually in the form of a naval base surrounded by a deﬁned ‘sphere of inﬂuence’.⁷ British policy had to adjust to these changes: ‘Our policy . . . should be a conservative policy as regards China. [ . . . ]We desire, indeed, to see these dominions open for universal trade, but we do not desire to see them cut up and divided among the expectant heirs of this great moribund Empire.’⁸ A year later, an article in the Edinburgh Review sketched Britain’s current problems with admirable lucidity. China’s ‘break-up’ was neither in progress, nor was it necessarily inevitable. But British China merchants now had to fend off government-backed European rivals. British diplomacy had to protect trading interests and existing treaty rights against ‘internal’ infringement by Chinese authorities and ‘external’ encroachment by other Powers. The ‘diplomatic methods which we have been forced to adopt [meant that] [w]hen we fence with Russia or France, China has to stand between the points of the foils. Each lunge is made, as it were, through the body of the Tsungli-Yamen [the Chinese Board of Foreign Affairs].’⁹ The China Question reinforced the state of ﬂux in Great Power relations in the second half of the 1890s. In Asia, Russian inﬂuence seemed to grow irresistibly in relation to the seemingly irreversible decay of the Ottoman, Persian, and Chinese Empires. Given Russia’s closer geographical proximity to China, her ‘pénétration paciﬁque’ of Manchuria and other outer provinces of the Manchu Empire could not easily be resisted. The Great Game in Asia seemed to tilt in Russia’s favour.¹⁰ The tightening of relations between Britain’s two ⁷ P. Renouvin and J.-B. Duroselle, Introduction à l’histoire des relations internationales (Paris, 1964), 113. For the ‘bridgehead’ concept, cf. J. Darwin, ‘Imperialism and the Victorians: The Dynamics of Territorial Expansion’, EHR cxii, 3 (1997), 629–30; also A. L. Rosenbaum, ‘The Manchuria Bridgehead: Anglo-Russian Rivalry and the Imperial Railways of China, 1897–1902’, MAS x, 1 (1976), 41–64; cf. H. Feis, Europe: The World’s Banker, 1870–1914 (New York, repr. 1965), 435–41; E. W. Edwards, British Diplomacy and Finance in China, 1895–1914 (Oxford, 1987), ch. 1; F. E. Hyde, Far Eastern Trade, 1860–1914 (London, 1973), 197–215; N. P. Petersson, ‘Gentlemanly and Not-so-Gentlemanly Imperialism in China before the First World War’, Gentlemanly Capitalism, Imperialism and Global History, ed. S. Akita (Basingstoke, 2003), 106–11. ⁸ PD (4) lvi (1898), col. 237. ⁹ Anon.[St J. Brodrick], ‘The Problem of China’, EdR cxc, 389 (July 1899), 254–5. Useful also D. McLean, ‘Commerce, Finance, and British Diplomatic Support in China, 1885–86’, EcHR xxvi, 3 (1978), 464–76, and P. A. Varg, ‘The Myth of the China Market, 1890–1914’, AHR lxxiii, 4 (1967), 742–58. ¹⁰ D. Gillard, The Struggle for Asia, 1828–1914 (London, 1977), 153–66; idem, ‘Salisbury and the Indian Defence Problem, 1885–1902’, Studies in International History: Essays Presented to W. Norton Medlicott, ed. K. Bourne and D. C. Watt (London, 1967), 236–48; R. L. Greaves, Persia and the Defence of India, 1884–1892 (London, 1959), 90–9.

4

Introduction

‘traditional’ imperial rivals, France and Russia, since 1891–2 further transformed the international landscape. Sacriﬁcing established principles, prejudices, and traditions to the national interest, Paris and St Petersburg had entered into a fully-ﬂedged military alliance in 1894. Its main purpose was to keep Germany in check in Europe, while the two alliance partners were free to pursue their respective interests outside Europe. This meant that, in practice, it was mainly directed against Britain. Russia’s seemingly insatiable and unstoppable ambitions in northern China upset the political status quo in the Far East, which until then had favoured Britain. At the same time the ‘scramble for Africa’ reached its ﬁnal stage, straining relations with France. Buoyed up by the Russian alliance France now frequently acted as the ‘jackal of Russia’; while in China, the diplomatic representatives of the two allies acted in tandem on all occasions, so much so that they were known in diplomatic circles as ‘the Siamese twins’.¹¹ Germany also showed a greater ambition to play a leading role on the world stage. The conclusion of the Franco-Russian alliance acted as a kind of vice on Germany, restricting her diplomatic freedom of manoeuvre in Europe, whilst simultaneously pushing her Weltpolitik ambitions overseas. Here they clashed with British interests.¹² Meanwhile, out in the wings of international politics, Japan and the United States of America began to emerge as new Great Powers. The transformation of international politics affected Britain more than any other Power. The impact of the China Question on Britain was rooted in the dual nature of Britain’s position as a Great Power. Much emphasis has been given to her traditional concerns with the European balance of power. But Britain was not an exclusively European Power. Her empire consisted of two strategic blocs, the British-European and the Anglo-Indian.¹³ If British interests were deﬁned globally, then this also necessitated a global reach of British power. Yet the wider changes in the constellation of the Powers placed constraints on Britain. They reﬂected and reinforced the dual nature of Britain’s power. Russian expansion posed the most serious and most persistent threat to British interests. Russia was ﬁrmly part of the European Great Power system, even more so following the 1894 alliance with France. Her Asian expansion, however, affected the Anglo-Indian strategic bloc, which was not part of that ¹¹ Quotes from Currie to O’Conor (private), 15 Apr. [1896], O’Conor MSS, OCON 6/1/17; and V. Chirol, Fifty Years in a Changing World (London, 1927), 181. ¹² P. Winzen, ‘Prince Bülow’s “Weltmachtpolitik” ’, AJPH xxii, 2 (1976), 227–42. ¹³ Edward Ingram’s observations are pertinent also for the period covered here, cf. In Defence of British India: Great Britain in the Middle East, 1775–1842 (London, 1984).

Introduction

5

system. The Russian threat may have been conﬁned geographically to Central Asia and the Far East, but it derived its full strategic signiﬁcance from systemic factors. Thus, ﬁrst the absence of a systemic strategic partner to contain Russian expansionism, and then the eventual alliance in 1902 with Japan, a non-systemic Power, caused a broad range of problems. To some contemporaries these problems threatened the beginning of Britain’s international decline. Alarmed by what they regarded as dangerous isolation, the guiding principles of British foreign policy came under closer scrutiny, and in this process the established Victorian foreign policy consensus of eschewing binding peacetime commitments disintegrated. It is the underlying argument of this study that the China Question provides an ideal prism through which to study Britain’s changing relations with the Powers, and the nature of Britain’s isolation in greater depth. The notion of ‘isolation’ has for long been associated especially with the person and policies of Lord Salisbury, though such assessments have tended to underestimate the subtleties of his diplomacy.¹⁴ The two classic studies of the problem of isolation are those by C. H. D. Howard and G. W. Monger, both admirable examples of the diplomatic historian’s craft. Howard’s treatise on ideas concerning Britain’s international position at the close of the nineteenth century is an elegant refutation of G. M. Young’s facetious aperçu that diplomatic history ‘is little more than the record of what one clerk said to another’. Monger’s study properly takes into account Britain’s global interests, rather than approaching the subject from a principally European perspective. Yet, Howard’s study of ideas is not always sufﬁciently geared towards political action. And Monger, despite his imperial approach, focused too much on the emerging German threat.¹⁵ More recently, Zara Steiner and Keith Neilson have offered an important correction to the focus on Germany, with its implicit teleology centred on 1914. Yet, their synthesis places the diplomatic response to the problems of isolation largely in the period after the Boer War, and so does not appreciate the extent to which the China Question crystallized contemporary thinking about Britain’s international position. There is also an implicit assumption here that not only did isolation end, but that this was the intended outcome of a ¹⁴ e.g. A. F. Pribram, England and the International Policy of the European Great Powers, 1871–1914 (Oxford, 1931), 58; J. M. Goudswaard, Some Aspects of the End of Britain’s ‘Splendid Isolation’, 1898–1904 (Rotterdam, 1952). ¹⁵ C. H. D. Howard, ‘ “Splendid Isolation” ’, History xlvii (1962), 32–41 and Splendid Isolation: A Study of Ideas (London, 1967); G. W. Monger, The End of Isolation: British Foreign Policy, 1900–1907 (London, 1963).

6

Introduction

more or less settled policy.¹⁶ The argument advanced here, by contrast, is that this was not at all the object of British policy. John Charmley, meanwhile, has suggested that especially Salisbury’s policy was rooted in a distinctive Conservative or ‘Country Party’ foreign policy tradition. Though a little speculative, this argument has considerable merit and points to possible avenues of further research. Nevertheless, as is argued in this study, the response by Liberal and Unionist administrations to Britain’s external problems, though coloured by Tory or Whig assumptions and sympathies, was based on common notions about foreign policy. Party afﬁliations, in fact, were less decisive than membership of different political generations.¹⁷ The focus of this study, then, is on Britain’s response to the China Question within the wider context of the problems of isolation. It is equally important to state what this book is not intended to be. This is not a study of Sino-British relations, nor is it an account of British policy in China, nor of China’s external relations. Works on British policy towards or in China already exist, though their number is surprisingly small.¹⁸ This book, by contrast, deals with the Chinese Empire as an object of Great Power rivalries and with the international impact of the China Question on British policy. Relations between states transcend narrowly deﬁned foreign policy, and encompass a range of relationships and factors—commercial, cultural, ﬁnancial, diplomatic, and strategic.¹⁹ Important though the ‘realities behind diplomacy’ are, the realities of diplomacy are equally important. No one has yet improved on Marx’s dictum that people make their own history, though not under circumstances of their choice. Diplomacy and politics especially are subject to the ambiguities of free will and the play of the contingent.²⁰ A number of considerations follow from this. Historians must, of course, impose a degree ¹⁶ Z. S. Steiner and K. Neilson, Britain and the Origins of the First World War (Basingstoke and New York, 2nd edn. 2003), 25–30. ¹⁷ J. Charmley, Splendid Isolation?: Britain and the Balance of Power, 1874–1914 (London, 1999), 22–4 and 398–9. For ‘political generations’, cf. K. Mannheim, Wissenssoziologie, ed. K. H. Wolff (Frankfurt, 1964), 509–65. ¹⁸ Costin, Great Britain and China; V. G. Kiernan, British Diplomacy in China, 1880–1885 (New York, repr. 1970); L. K. Young, British Policy in China, 1895–1902 (Oxford, 1970); E.W. Edwards, British Diplomacy and Finance in China, 1895–1914 (Oxford, 1987); J. Osterhammel, China und die Weltgesellschaft: Vom 18. Jahrhundert bis in unsere Zeit (Munich, 1989). ¹⁹ Exemplary P. M. Kennedy, The Realities behind Diplomacy: Background Inﬂuences on Britain’s External Policy, 1865–1945 (London, 1981); C. Thorne, Border Crossings: Studies in International History (Oxford, 1988). ²⁰ For some philosophical woolgathering on the subject see my ‘Diplomacy and DecisionMaking’, Palgrave Advances in International History, ed. P. Finney (London, 2005), 36–57.

Introduction

7

of order on the material they amass in order to control it. But the messy realities of diplomacy matter. Sanitizing them, in an effort to formulate a new theory or an overarching synthesis, can easily be mistaken for control of the material. Ignoring the importance of seemingly ‘trivial occurrences’ in foreign policy simpliﬁes past politics, but does not elucidate the concerns and motivations of policy-makers, nor the consequences of their actions.²¹ To appreciate the realities of diplomacy is not to assert a solipsism. Foreign policy decisions were the responsibility of an elite, whose conceptualization of policy issues was shaped by the system in which it operated.²² Thus, the diplomatic concepts, notions of the ‘national interest’, foreign policy goals and strategic options pursued by British diplomats around 1900 were linked to the particular nature of late-Victorian politics. The foreign-policy-making process, therefore, needs to be placed into the wider political environment of the ‘halfclosed world peopled by senior politicians, civil servants and publicists’.²³ The high politics approach takes account of entrenched, institutionalized interests and rival centres of power, which inﬂuenced decision-making. One source of friction, always potential but frequently very real, was the growing inﬂuence of the Treasury in Whitehall. To an extent, the Foreign Ofﬁce was better placed than other departments to resist Treasury pressure, largely because it was comparatively cheap. But in a wider sense foreign policy-making was constrained by Treasury control. The nineteenth century system of government was designed to reinforce orthodox ﬁscal conservatism, and this helped to engender caution in foreign policy. Fiscal constraints and ﬁscal conservatism did not allow for a policy of Palmerstonian bluff and bluster.²⁴ The growing bureaucratization of Victorian political life also has a bearing on the study of nineteenth-century diplomacy. It is the function of a ministerial bureaucracy to prepare political decisions; and it does so by reducing the complexity of available policy options. In turn, this can lead to the presentation ²¹ B. Russell, Freedom and Organization, 1814–1914 (London, 1934), 7–8. On the relevance of ‘incidents’, see K. Neilson, ‘ “Incidents” and Foreign Policy: A Case Study’, D&S ix, 1 (1998), esp. 81–2. ²² D. C. Watt, What About the People?: Abstractions and Reality in History and the Social Sciences (London, 1983), and Personalities and Politics: Studies in the Formulation of British Foreign Policy in the Twentieth Century (London, 1965), 1–15. ²³ M. Bentley and J. Stevenson, ‘Introduction’, High and Low Politics in Modern Britain: Ten Studies, ed. idem (Oxford, 1983), 1. ²⁴ T. G. Otte, ‘ “Old Diplomacy”: Reﬂections on the Foreign Ofﬁce before 1914’, The Foreign Ofﬁce and British Diplomacy in the Twentieth Century, ed. G. Johnson (London, 2004), 32–3; also K. Neilson, ‘ “Greatly Exaggerated”: The Myth of the Decline of Britain before 1914’, IHR xiii, 4 (1991), 695–725; see V. Cromwell and Z. S. Steiner, ‘The Foreign Ofﬁce before 1914: A Study in Resistance’, Studies in the Growth of Nineteenth Century Government, ed. G. Sutherland (London, 1972), 166–7.

8

Introduction

of preferred options as necessary, dictated by the perceived or accepted logic of any given situation.²⁵ The manner in which politicians and civil servants react to developing situations reﬂects also their core belief systems. Every political action, actual or recommended, is based on a set of ideas and values. The ‘ofﬁcial mind’, or the ‘Foreign Ofﬁce mind’ with its ‘accepted understandings and often unexpressed assumptions’, is central to the study of foreign policy.²⁶ Closely linked to this are the preoccupations and perceptions of policy-makers. These may distort, but they are decisive. They are the ﬁlter through which impressions and information are received, however selectively, processed, however incompletely, and so inﬂuence policy-makers’ judgement of objectives and priorities. Britain’s late-Victorian foreign policy elite was not conﬁned to the denizens of Westminster or Whitehall, or the diplomats abroad. This was illustrated by the clandestine manoeuvres of Joseph Chamberlain and his clique of supporters in Society and high ﬁnance. Equally important in the context of the China Question was the role of organized pressure groups. The China Association and the China League were well-established at Westminster, where the ‘Pigtail Committee’ played a prominent role in parliamentary debates on China. Indeed, the ‘China Party’ among Conservative backbenchers was particularly well-organized and vociferous.²⁷ Close to the centre of the foreign policy-making process were also members of Britain’s nascent secret services. Following the release over recent years of intelligence-related material, this formerly ‘missing dimension’ can now be incorporated more fully into analyses of Britain’s relations with other Great Powers. Although not yet constituted as an ‘intelligence community’, internal channels of communication existed, which made senior intelligence ofﬁcers part of a wider foreign policy ‘strategic clique’.²⁸ In terms of the mechanics of foreign policy much decision-making power was vested in the Foreign Secretary. Within the Cabinet he enjoyed a considerable degree of autonomy. To an extent this reﬂected the notion that foreign ²⁵ Still indispensable M. Weber, Economy and Society: An Outline of Interpretive Sociology, ed. G. Roth and C. Wittich (2 vols., Berkeley and Los Angeles, 1968) ii, 956–1005. ²⁶ K. T. Hoppen’s deﬁnition, The Mid-Victorian Generation, 1846–1886 (Oxford, 1998), 91–2; T. G. Otte, ‘Eyre Crowe and British Foreign Policy: A Cognitive Map’, Personalities, War and Diplomacy: Essays in International History, ed. idem and C. A. Pagedas (London, 1997), 14–16; Z. S. Steiner, ‘On Writing International History: Chaps, Maps and Much More’, IA lxxiii, 3 (1997), 531. ²⁷ R. A. Yerburgh, ‘Our Duty towards China’, NR xxxiii, 198 (1899), 902–16, gives a ﬂavour of their campaign; see N. A. Pelcovits, Old China Hands and the Foreign Ofﬁce (New York, 1948); R. Shannon, The Age of Salisbury, 1881–1902: Unionism and Empire (London, 1996), 486–7. ²⁸ Ardagh to Sanderson, 8 Nov. 1900, and min. Sanderson, 9 Nov. 1900, HD3/119.

Introduction

9

affairs were part of the Royal prerogative, though equally important was that most ministers ‘know and care nothing about foreign affairs’. The two service ministers, the Colonial and India Secretaries as well as the Chancellor of the Exchequer were routinely informed of foreign developments. In addition, a key role was usually played by the odd senior elder statesman with a special interest or expertise in foreign and imperial matters, such as the Duke of Devonshire during Salisbury’s last administration.²⁹ If the Cabinet’s collective involvement in foreign affairs was intermittent, the ultimate decision-making power still lay with the ministers. Thus, Rosebery had to contend with interference by Harcourt, while Salisbury found himself checked, ﬁrst by the Cabinet collectively, and later by a small coterie around Joseph Chamberlain. Central to the foreign policy-making process was the relationship between Foreign Secretary and Prime Minister. During the period covered in this book there were three different Prime Ministers, Lords Rosebery (1894–5) and Salisbury (1895–1902) and Arthur Balfour (1902–5), and three different Foreign Secretaries. Of these Lord Salisbury was the most signiﬁcant, not least because he held the premiership in conjunction with the seals of the Foreign Ofﬁce between 1895 and 1900, but also because of his long previous association with the foreign policy portfolio. His views on Britain’s problems in China and their ramiﬁcations for her relations with the other Great Powers are, therefore, central to an understanding of this period of transition in British foreign policy, though this is not to suggest the relative irrelevance of his predecessor Lord Kimberley, Foreign Secretary during Rosebery’s ill-starred premiership between March 1894 and June 1895, or Lord Lansdowne, who succeeded him in November 1900. Kimberley’s historical reputation has befallen the fate of most Victorian politicians—he has been largely forgotten. Even Gordon Martel’s admirable study, though more balanced and fair, still concludes that Kimberley was ultimately ‘a cipher’.³⁰ To some extent this reﬂects Kimberley’s obscure public persona. If he was largely unknown to the country in his own times, the inaccessibility of his voluminous private papers further prolonged his obscurity ²⁹ Kimberley to Ripon (private), 6 Nov. 1893, Ripon MSS, Add.MSS. 43526; cf. N. S. Johnson, ‘The Role of the Cabinet in the Making of Foreign Policy, 1885–1895, with special reference to Lord Salisbury’s second administration’ (D.Phil. thesis, Oxford, 1970). ³⁰ G. Martel, Imperial Diplomacy: Rosebery and the Failure of Foreign Policy (Kingston, Ont. 1987), 243. A. Cecil compresses Kimberley literally into a footnote, British Foreign Secretaries, 1807–1916: Studies in Personality and Policy (London, 1927), 306, n. 2. P. J. V. Rolo’s joint assessment of Rosebery and Kimberley is altogether unsatisfactory, see ‘Rosebery and Kimberley’, British Foreign Secretaries and Foreign Policy: from Crimean War to First World War, ed. K. M. Wilson (London, 1987), 138–58.

10

Introduction

until the late 1990s when a fuller, more nuanced and more favourable picture emerged, though his foreign policy remains under-studied.³¹ This is not to reclaim Kimberley as a ‘lost Foreign Secretary’, for his term at the Foreign Ofﬁce was too short, and his character and temperament were too reticent and conciliatory. Yet, Kimberley’s political career was characterized by a remarkable departmental longevity and closeness to the ‘inner group of the Cabinet’.³² He served continuously in every Liberal administration between 1868 and 1895; and many ambitious, would-be Cabinet-makers on the Liberal benches pencilled him into high ofﬁces of state in imaginary post-Gladstonian governments. Already in 1885, Kimberley struck Rosebery ‘as being a stronger man than he ever imagined’.³³ His ﬁfteen months at the helm of the Foreign Ofﬁce were the culmination of a long career, much of which involved imperial and foreign affairs. John Wodehouse (1826–1902), 3rd Baron Wodehouse from 1847, and since 1866 1st Earl of Kimberley, was born into a Norfolk Tory gentry family, but adopted Liberal principles while still at Eton. Having served as Parliamentary Under-Secretary at the Foreign Ofﬁce for four years (and again, 1859–61), he was appointed minister plenipotentiary to Russia in 1856. At St Petersburg he impressed upon the Russian government Clarendon’s policy of blunt superiority. From 1868, he ﬁlled senior Cabinet posts whenever the party was in power. In 1868 he was appointed Lord Privy Seal, and in 1870 he was transferred to the Colonial Ofﬁce where he remained until 1874. He returned there in 1880, before assuming the seals of the India Ofﬁce in 1882. India was Kimberley’s portfolio on three occasions (1882–5, February to August 1886, and 1892–4). His stewardship of Indian affairs coincided with two major crises in Anglo-Russia relations, the Pendjeh crisis in 1885 and the Pamirs crisis of 1893–4, each triggered by Russia’s expansion in Central Asia. Asian affairs and relations with St Petersburg, then, remained a constant concern for him. His substantial experience of colonial and imperial affairs had turned him into ‘a scholarly, self-reliant, self-controlled administrator, an “Imperial handyman” ’.³⁴ ³¹ E. Drus, ‘A Journal of Events during the Gladstone Ministry 1868–1874 by John, First Earl of Kimberley’, CM (3) xxi (1958), 1–49. For excellent surveys of Kimberley’s career and the fate of his archive see Angus Hawkins’s and John Powell’s ‘Introduction’, KJ, 1–43, and J. Powell, ‘Introduction’, KP, 1–53. ³² H. C. G. Matthew, ‘Introduction’, GD x, lviii. ³³ Hamilton diary, 5 Apr. 1885, HD ii, 830. ³⁴ A. B. Cooke and J. R. Vincent, Governing Passion: Cabinet Government and Party Politics in Britain, 1885–86 (Brighton, 1974), 119.

Introduction

11

The boundaries between imperial and foreign affairs were increasingly blurred from the 1880s onwards, and Gladstone frequently conferred with Kimberley on matters which were technically within the remit of the Foreign Ofﬁce.³⁵ That ofﬁce had been Kimberley’s ‘object in life’; and after Clarendon’s sudden death in 1870, senior diplomatists thought him the most likely and most suitable successor.³⁶ Ironically, when he eventually attained it in March 1894, he had come to prefer the India Ofﬁce ‘which was more congenial to me, from long habit, than diplomacy. Unravelling knots which tie themselves again as fast as you disentangle them is not a very pleasant occupation, however important.’³⁷ Not the least problem for Kimberley were the tangled relations between Rosebery and Harcourt. The lack of unity within the Liberal government also explains his close coordination of policy with Rosebery, which has not infrequently been misinterpreted as subordination.³⁸ It was rather that Kimberley and Rosebery shared the same Whig outlook on foreign affairs, and that Kimberley was anxious to neutralize Harcourt’s threat to the stability of the government. Kimberley was a competent manager of Foreign Ofﬁce business, but largely continued the policy he had inherited from Rosebery and indirectly from Salisbury. In the Far East, he aimed at resolving the international complications caused by the Sino-Japanese War through cooperation with the Powers, and especially with Russia, without, however, accepting the need to formalize that cooperation. In common with the majority of Britain’s foreign policy elite, Kimberley thought that China, along with most other Oriental nations was in ‘continuous decay’: ‘China is rotten to the core, as regards the governing classes.’ At the end of the war, Kimberley had come to conclude that a future conﬂict between Russia and Japan was a near certainty, and that the latter was ‘our natural ally, as against Russia’.³⁹ Relations with the major European Powers in Asia deteriorated during Kimberley’s foreign secretaryship. He found ‘the French . . . so slippery and so anxious to trip us up whenever they can, that I almost despair of ever arriving ³⁵ Gladstone to Hartington, 5 Mar. 1885, GD xi, 304; Powell, ‘Introduction’, 52. ³⁶ Granville to Canning, 3 May 1856, in Lord E. Fitzmaurice, The Life of Granville George LevesonGower, Second Earl Granville, KG, 1815–1891 (2 vols., London, 1905) ii, 180; see Paget to Hammond (private), 28 June 1870, Hammond MSS, FO 391/23. ³⁷ Kimberley to Pauncefote (private), 31 Mar. 1894, Kimberley MSS, MS.Eng.c.4408. ³⁸ See Rolo, ‘Rosebery and Kimberley’, 149. ³⁹ Quotes from Kimberley to Durand (private), 29 Jan. 1895, Kimberley MSS, MS.Eng.c.4388; and Satow diary, 31 May 1895, Satow MSS, PRO 30/33/16/1.

12

Introduction

at a good understanding with them’.⁴⁰ In so far as Russia was concerned, he desired to maintain the link with St Petersburg, and to improve, if possible, relations.⁴¹ Like many Whigs, Kimberley was instinctively not particularly close to Germany, though he carried on the established policy of leaning towards her and the German-led Triple Alliance. In the context of frictions with Germany over the Transvaal he noted that ‘[t]he bullying tone, which Germany habitually adopted towards other Powers, is . . . not suitable in communications with such a Power as England.’ Indeed, when later in June 1895 Berlin’s short-lived East Asian combination with France and Russia unravelled, Kimberley could not suppress a degree of schadenfreude: ‘The Germans are always so nasty to us that I cannot help feeling a certain satisfaction.’⁴² Kimberley’s style as Foreign Secretary was somewhat phlegmatic, and he ‘refused to be hurried into diplomatic crusades’. This should not be taken as an indication of indecisiveness, though Russian diplomatists especially noted ‘les perplexités et les hesitations de lord Kimberley’.⁴³ He generally acknowledged that foreign affairs ‘require ﬁrm handling’. Kimberley’s foreign policy was informed by the general late-Victorian ‘isolationist’ consensus, based on an assumption of the desirability of avoiding entangling commitments during peace-time.⁴⁴ The reputation of Archibald Philip Primrose, 5th Earl of Rosebery (1847–1929) rests largely on ‘what he suffered rather than [on] what he did as Prime Minister’.⁴⁵ He remains one of the most enigmatic and puzzling of modern British premiers. Born into an established Whig family tradition, he possessed every prerequisite for a successful political career in late-Victorian Britain. An aristocrat, though, unlike Salisbury, not of ancient lineage, he was a large landowner with estates in Scotland and England. His social status, wealth, and intellect singled him out from an early age as ‘the coming man’ on the Liberal side. He married Hannah Rothschild, the richest heiress in late1870s Britain, won the Derby, and became Prime Minister. But for all this, he was singularly ill-equipped for a life in politics. By temperament an epicure and ⁴⁰ Kimberley to De Bunsen (private), 17 Sept. 1894, De Bunsen MSS, box 14; see E. T. S. Dugdale, Maurice de Bunsen: Diplomat and Friend (London, 1934), 118–19. ⁴¹ Kimberley to Lascelles (private), 16 Oct. 1894, Kimberley MSS, MS.Eng.c.4405; K. Neilson, Britain and the Last Tsar: British Policy towards Russia, 1894–1917 (Oxford, 1995), 149–50. ⁴² Quotes from Kimberley to Malet (private), 5 Dec. 1894, Kimberley MSS, MS. Eng.c.4389; and to Currie (private), 18 June 1895, ibid., MS.Eng.c.4399. ⁴³ Quotes from DNB, 2nd suppl. iii, 698; and Chichkin to Staal, 8 Feb. 1895, SC ii, 262. ⁴⁴ Kimberley to Rosebery (conﬁdential), 6 Apr. 1895, Rosebery MSS 10070. ⁴⁵ E. T. Raymond [pseud. Edward Raymond Thompson], The Man of Promise—Lord Rosebery: A Critical Study (London, 1923), 243.

Introduction

13

highly strung, he did not have the stamina, ruthlessness, and single-mindedness that are needed to succeed in politics. He lacked, as the contemporary Radicalleaning journalist A. G. Gardiner noted, ‘the quality of character’, with all the Victorian connotations that term implied. His privileged aloofness led him frequently to walk away from the cut-and-thrust of daily politics and, like Achilles, sulk in his tent. He was a ﬂawed hero, ‘a Hamlet of politics’.⁴⁶ For all these ﬂaws, Rosebery was an experienced and intelligent foreign policy-maker. No less an authority than Bismarck testiﬁed to his ‘good mixture of ﬁrmness and caution . . . and of all English statesmen [he was] the most moderate and calm in his policies’.⁴⁷ He was Foreign Secretary twice, for the ﬁrst time during Gladstone’s third administration in 1886 and again from 1892 to 1894. The ofﬁce was also a refuge from the less rariﬁed atmosphere of Westminster politics or the drudgery of Cabinet business. He brought to his ofﬁce ‘a passion for precision’ and detailed information. This could take the form of Society gossip ‘quidquid agunt homines’, but even more often he requested ‘hard’ geopolitical data.⁴⁸ Rosebery had a clear understanding of Britain’s strategic priorities, an understanding strongly inﬂuenced by his notion of imperialism. As with so many of his generation, imperialism had a strong appeal for him. Reﬂecting also the Darwinian notions then current in politics, he proclaimed the superiority of the Anglo-Saxon race, and argued that increased imperial competition meant ‘we are engaged at the present moment, in the language of the mining camps, in “pegging out claims for the future” ’. If the theme of empire underpinned Rosebery’s politics, his foreign policy was pragmatic.⁴⁹ During both foreign secretaryships Rosebery was guided by an assumption of the need for continuity in Britain’s foreign relations. He maintained a policy of the ‘free hand’ in relations with the other Great Powers; but Britain’s position ⁴⁶ Quotes from A. G. Gardiner, Prophets, Priests, and Kings (London, repr. 1914), 179–80; and Raymond, Man of Promise, 252. John Buchan noted that ‘while to the world he seemed like some polished eighteenth-century grandee, at heart he was the Calvinist of seventeenth-century Scotland’, idem, ‘Lord Rosebery, 1847–1930 [sic]’, PBA xvi (1930), 10. The most penetrating and incisive analysis of Rosebery’s ﬂawed personality remains Martel, Imperial Diplomacy, 3–8; also K. Feiling, In Christ Church Hall (London, 1960), 186–200. ⁴⁷ H. von Poschinger, Also sprach Bismarck (3 vols., Vienna, 1910–11) iii, 247. Bismarck’s successor complained of ‘l’infatuation et la légèreté ’ of Rosebery’s diplomacy, Herbette to Hanotaux (no. 278), 29 Nov. 1894, DDF (1) xii, no. 297. ⁴⁸ J. R. Rodd, Social and Diplomatic Memories (3 vols., London, 1922–5) i, 268–9. For examples of the ‘gossip letters’, see Corbett MSS, PRO 30/26/124. On his ‘passion for precision’ see Raymond, Man of Promise, 126–7, and Lord Hardinge of Penshurst, Old Diplomacy (London, 1947), 51. ⁴⁹ Rosebery speech at the Royal Colonial Institute, 1 Mar. 1893, anon., The Foreign Policy of Lord Rosebery: Two Chapters in recent Politics . . . (London, 1901), 88; see C. A. Bodelsen, Studies in

14

Introduction

in international politics was more constrained during his ﬁnal term of ofﬁce. The emerging rapprochement between France and Russia, and with it the growing possibility of a Franco-Russian naval combination in the Mediterranean, and increased tensions with Germany meant that Rosebery sought to reduce any dependence on the German-led bloc, while improving relations with Russia.⁵⁰ The creeping estrangement with Germany was a fact, as were the growing strains in relations with France over Siam and Africa. The goal of closer ties with St Petersburg remained elusive, and these developments reinforced the trend towards a more isolationist stance. There was an additional complicating factor forced upon Rosebery in the shape of the fractious state of the Liberal party. It was in this context that Rosebery’s imperialism mattered. His efforts as Foreign Secretary before 1894 to keep foreign policy to himself was partly an attempt to secure for himself the succession to the party leadership, but also to eradicate the legacy of Gladstonianism.⁵¹ His elevation to the premiership, however, did not secure him complete ascendancy over the party. With Morley brooding at the Irish Ofﬁce, and Harcourt sulking at the Treasury, it was crumbling from the outset. These circumstances made Kimberley’s role all the more important. The domestic and external constraints also shaped Rosebery’s attitude towards the emerging China Question. After the Sino-Japanese War, he claimed that it had always been a guiding principle of his Far Eastern diplomacy ‘[t]o have Japan on our side’.⁵² This was something of an oversimpliﬁcation of British foreign policy during the war. From the outset he and Kimberley wished to work with Russia. Such hopes remained unfulﬁlled. A key consideration towards the end of the war was the desire to avoid any confrontation with Japan. Even a rapprochement with Russia was not worth the effort, if purchased at the price of antagonizing Japan. This consideration was Mid-Victorian Imperialism (New York, repr. 1968), 206–10. An important work remains H. C. G. Matthew, The Liberal Imperialists: The Ideas and Politics of a Post-Gladstonian Élite (Oxford, 1973), 150–1, 195–204; useful also H. Reifeld, Zwischen Empire und Parlament: Zur Gedankenbildung und Politik Lord Roseberys (1880–1905) (Göttingen, 1987), esp. 91–135, though this accords greater systemic coherence to Rosebery’s ideas and lacks political contextualization. ⁵⁰ Min. Rosebery, n.d. [c. 10 or 11 Aug. 1893], on memo. Chapman, 8 Aug. 1893, Rosebery MSS 10133; and memo. Spencer, ‘British, French and Russian Battle-ships and Modern Cruisers’, 1 Dec. 1894, CAB 37/37/42; also G. Martel, ‘Documenting the Great Game: “World Policy” and the “Turbulent Frontier” in the 1890s’, IHR ii, 2 (1980), 68–72. ⁵¹ D. A. Hamer, Liberal Politics in the Age of Gladstone and Rosebery: A Study in Leadership and Policy (Oxford, 1972), 255–7. ⁵² Rosebery to Wemyss Reid (conﬁdential), 30 Dec. 1897, Earl of Crewe, Lord Rosebery (2 vols., London, 1931) ii, 554.

Introduction

15

very much a result of Japan’s unexpected military success. Along with many contemporary observers he was impressed by the vastness of the Chinese Empire and its assumed ability passively to absorb external shocks. ‘The methods of China are too languid to admit of their [sic] being rapidly and visibly weakened,’ he observed at the opening of the conﬂict with Japan.⁵³ Rosebery was receptive to the grander geopolitical interpretations of the Chinese Question during and after the war. China, he reasoned, might well be on the brink of partition, and such an eventuality had implications for the global balance of power, and might even lead to large-scale conﬂict between the Great Powers. The Powers now faced ‘two Eastern Questions’; and the Far Eastern one was ‘not less grave, and of even vaster dimensions’ than the question of Turkey’s future. In response to these two potentially explosive questions Britain’s resources had to be consolidated: ‘We must not scatter ourselves; we must embark on nothing unnecessary; we must be ready at any moment to place our full force in one or both of the regions affected by the Eastern questions.’⁵⁴ It was these conﬂicting demands that gave rise in the chancelleries of Europe to a general impression of ‘le oscillazioni del Gabinetto Rosebery’.⁵⁵ Such assessments were not altogether fair, but Rosebery’s diplomacy certainly reﬂected the instinctive tendency of all Whiggish foreign policy to choose the line of least resistance. Rosebery has tended to be overshadowed by Robert Arthur Talbot Gascoyne-Cecil, 3rd Marquis of Salisbury (1830–1903), three times Prime Minister between 1885 and 1902. Salisbury’s chief political interest lay in foreign affairs, which he preferred as a branch of politics still relatively shielded from public interference.⁵⁶ His politics were pragmatic, at home and abroad. The widening of the franchise and a greater role by the public in national politics had been distasteful to him, but he accepted these changes. Foreign policy could not be divorced from domestic affairs: ‘What is known as “pendulum” has seemed to establish itself as the law of English politics.’ This ⁵³ Memo. Rosebery, 30 July 1894, Rosebery MSS, MS 10134. ⁵⁴ Quotes from Rosebery to Sanderson (secret), 16 Apr. 1895, Sanderson MSS, FO 800/1; Rosebery to Cromer (secret), 22 Apr. 1895, Cromer MSS, FO 633/7. ⁵⁵ Blanc to Pansa (personale), 22 Dec. 1894, DDI (2) xxvi, no. 760. ⁵⁶ Lady G. Cecil, Life of Robert, Marquis of Salisbury (4 vols., London, 1921–32) ii, 13; A. Ramm, ‘Lord Salisbury at the Foreign Ofﬁce’, The Foreign Ofﬁce, 1782–1982, ed. R. Bullen (Frederick, Md., 1984), 46–65; A. Roberts, Salisbury: Victorian Titan (London, 1999), 514–15. Given the importance of this ﬁeld in Salisbury’s career, Michael Bentley’s neglect of it in his otherwise superb study is regrettable, see Lord Salisbury’s World: Conservative Environments in Late-Victorian Britain (Cambridge, 2001), 264–5; also D. Steele, Lord Salisbury: A Political Biography (London, 1999), 178–9.

16

Introduction

meant ‘no foreign policy can succeed unless it can be completed within one beat of the pendulum’.⁵⁷ The unreformed Foreign Ofﬁce was a congenial environment for Salisbury. He showed little interest in the department’s administration, and remained ‘Olympian and aloof ’. While he preferred ‘working the coach alone’, he did not ignore the Ofﬁce. Especially his last Permanent Under-Secretary, Sir Thomas Sanderson, and Francis Bertie, who supervised the Far Eastern department, played a more signiﬁcant role than historians have acknowledged.⁵⁸ Salisbury preferred the solitude of Hatﬁeld House, or his French villa, to his rooms at the Foreign Ofﬁce—a habit that gave rise to an impression of a preference for ‘secret diplomacy’.⁵⁹ Salisbury tended to form his conclusions slowly, and was reluctant to let himself be rushed into action; but once he had come to a decision, he moved swiftly.⁶⁰ Salisbury was one of only a few Victorian politicians who might justly be called intellectuals. His dry wit, pithy style, and the intellectual force behind his arguments give his pronouncements a very seductive quality; and historians ought to beware of assuming too large a degree of continuity between early, often journalistic, statements of principle and later political actions or greater systemic coherence than his public utterances deserve. The latter, after all, served a political function; or, as Salisbury once put it with some understatement, he also acted as ‘councillor to the public mind’.⁶¹ There was nevertheless an underlying consistency to Salisbury’s general politics and views on foreign affairs. Like his role model Castlereagh, he preferred to work unobtrusively and quietly. This was dictated by the nature of diplomacy. Impermanence was its chief characteristic: ‘A diplomatist’s glory is the most ephemeral of all other forms of that transient reward.’ Rarely were there clear-cut solutions to any given diplomatic problem: ‘[L]ogic is of no use in diplomacy.’⁶² Sentimental afﬁnities and grand designs alike were alien to ⁵⁷ Quotes from PD (4) lxiv (1898), cols. 1171–2; and Salisbury to Curzon, 23 Dec. 1897, Curzon MSS, MSS.Eur.F.112/1B. ⁵⁸ Quotes from I. Malcolm, Vacant Thrones (London, 1931), 2; and Pauncefote to Ponsonby (private), 30 Sept. 1885, Ponsonby MSS, FO 800/3; Z. S. Steiner, ‘The Last Years of the Old Foreign Ofﬁce, 1898–1905’, HJ vi, 1 (1963), 59–90. ⁵⁹ Cecil, Salisbury ii, 16–17; J. A. S. Grenville, Lord Salisbury and Foreign Policy: The Close of the Nineteenth Century (London, repr. 1970 (pb)), 11–12; H. W. V. Temperley, ‘British Secret Diplomacy from Canning to Grey’, CHJ vi, 1 (1938), 1–32. ⁶⁰ Earl of Midleton, Records and Reactions, 1856–1939 (London, 1939), 106. ⁶¹ As quoted in Shannon, Age of Salisbury, 353. ⁶² Quotes from anon. [R. Cecil], ‘Lord Castlereagh’, QR cxi, 221 (1862), 206; and Salisbury to Lyons (private), 22 May 1878, Lord Newton, Lord Lyons: A Record of British Diplomacy (2 vols., London, 1913) ii, 141; also M. Pinto-Duschinsky, The Political Thought of Lord Salisbury, 1854–68 (London, 1967), 127–9.

Introduction

17

him. He accepted that states were guided by their respective interests, and he saw no sense in applying to international politics ethical standards which he deemed exclusively private. Relations between sovereign states were marked by almost primeval savagery. Unlike Gladstone, he was not given to moral crusades in support of oppressed Balkan peoples; nor did he share the ‘liberal sympathy’ for the principle of national self-determination, though he recognized nationalism as a factor of modern politics.⁶³ Yet, Salisbury was no coldblooded realpolitiker. Although his private letters and minutes on ofﬁcial despatches are often laced with sardonic humour and abound with delightfully ironic epigrams, the Gladstone–Salisbury moral dichotomy, that the detractors and admirers of both men have built up, is overly simplistic.⁶⁴ Salisbury’s concept of diplomacy was that of a moderating force. Successful diplomacy identiﬁed and built upon mutual interests. In Arthur Marsden’s apt summary, Salisbury regarded diplomacy as a kind of ‘market place’ where bargains were struck: ‘He expected to make no gains without paying for them, but he did insist that the price should be a fair one.’⁶⁵ Reﬂecting well-established contemporary views, he held as axiomatic ‘the necessity of . . . counterpoise’ or balance of power in international politics. At any rate, the ‘carefully balanced structure [of ] . . . the European system of nations’ was the accepted wider setting of his diplomacy. It also reinforced his instinctive caution.⁶⁶ Like many educated Victorians, Salisbury’s thinking was coloured by Darwin’s scientiﬁc writings, and his later views on foreign politics show traces of the Social Darwinism prevalent in the 1890s. In his May 1898 Albert Hall speech he warned of the danger posed by the ‘dying nations’. ‘[D]isorganization and decay’ in these countries would encourage the Powers to extend their inﬂuence over them. Inﬂuence, as he had noted in one of his early essays, ‘if it be excessive and constant, is veiled conquest’, and so threatened the vital balance between the major Powers. It was necessary, therefore, to ensure that a decaying state ‘shall be equally dependent upon all . . . either by a tutelage of ⁶³ Salisbury to Selborne (private), 13 Apr. 1895, Selborne MSS, MS Selborne 5; anon. [R. Cecil], ‘Poland’, Essays of the Late Marquess of Salisbury, KG, 1861–4: Foreign Policy (London, 1905), 49–50. ⁶⁴ See Peter Marsh’s excellent essay, ‘The Conservative Conscience’, The Conscience of the Victorian State, ed. idem (Syracuse, NY, 1979), 239–40. For Salisbury’s friendly relations with the two leading Atrocitarian clergymen, Canons Liddon and MacColl, see G. W. E. Russell, Malcolm MacColl: Memoirs and Correspondence (London, 1914), passim. ⁶⁵ A. Marsden, British Diplomacy and Tunis, 1875–1902: A Case Study in Mediterranean Policy (Edinburgh, 1971), 252; also Otte, ‘ “Floating Downstream”?’, 100–1. ⁶⁶ Cecil, ‘Poland’, 39.

18

Introduction

ambassadors . . . or by partition’.⁶⁷ This insight also informed Salisbury’s policy towards the China Question. The appeal of such notions for Salisbury reﬂected his general pessimism about mankind. A non-progressive Tory, he was not inspired by romantic ideas of an imperial mission as were the Tory Democrats; nor was he inspired by some sense of Anglo-Saxon racial superiority as Rosebery was. He abhorred the ‘jingo hurricane’ which Chamberlain fanned with his vigorous pumping of the patriotic bellows.⁶⁸ Yet, he acknowledged the increased importance of notions of prestige; and here he at least partially accepted Beaconsﬁeld’s inheritance. Salisbury did not regard imperial expansion as especially desirable, but he accepted imperial defence as central to foreign policy. Considerations of military power and strategy, rather than economic calculations, dominated his thinking. Whatever his philosophical pessimism, in foreign policy he retained a basic optimism about British power and strength, though he was conscious of the military and economic limitations of the country’s power, and preferred the ‘open door’ principle in trade and informal political arrangements to the annexation of territory.⁶⁹ Salisbury returned to the Foreign Ofﬁce for the last time in 1895. But it was a demanding department, and throughout the 1890s Salisbury’s health suffered. Indeed, the intervals between his bouts of ill health grew shorter, and he was frequently forced to relinquish the day-to-day running of the Foreign Ofﬁce to his nephew Arthur Balfour.⁷⁰ Lady Salisbury’s prolonged ill-health and eventual death in 1899 were further blows to him. By the summer of 1900, Lord Esher described him as ‘a crumpled heap’.⁷¹ Although his deteriorating health did not affect Salisbury’s intellect, it diminished his effectiveness as head of the administration, and he seemed prepared ‘[t]o let things drift’. His foreign policy analyses were intellectually superior to the often rather blind ‘something-must-be-done’ activism of the younger generation of ministers. ⁶⁷ Quotes from The Times 5 May 1898; and Cecil, ‘Poland’, 41–2; also R. Taylor, Lord Salisbury (London, 1975), 134. For Darwin’s inﬂuence, see Roberts, Salisbury, 593–6; Bentley, Salisbury’s World, 133. ⁶⁸ Salisbury to Hicks Beach (private), 14 Sept. 1901, Hicks Beach MSS, PCC/69; also C. C. Eldridge, England’s Mission: The Imperial Idea in the Age of Gladstone and Disraeli, 1868–1880 (London, 1973). ⁶⁹ Tel. Salisbury to Queen Victoria, 8 Jan. 1898, Salisbury MSS, 3M/A/84/70; memo. Salisbury, ‘Proposal for a Committee of Defence’, Oct. 1895, CAB 37/40/64; Grenville, Lord Salisbury, 18. ⁷⁰ Salisbury to Acland (private), 17 Aug. 1892, Acland MSS, MS Acland d.74; tel. Balfour to Queen Victoria, 18 Mar. 1898, CAB 41/24/32; also Roberts, Salisbury, 584 et passim. ⁷¹ Esher diary, 4 Dec. 1900, EJL i, 270. One of his nieces described him as ‘looking like a badger seeking its hole’ when delivering his Albert Hall speech, Alice Blanche Balfour diary, 4 May 1898, Whittinghame Muniment MSS, GD 433/2/224.

Introduction

19

But they lacked their previous constructive edge, and by the autumn of 1900 Salisbury’s vis inertiae was swept aside by the clamour for a more active foreign policy.⁷² Salisbury’s attitude towards the problems of the Far East was ambivalent. Russia was his major concern. In his analysis Russia’s East Asian policy was one of unbridled expansionism: ‘Of course she intends to swallow Corea if she can: & we cannot stop her by “representations” at St P[etersburg]. Much stiffer instruments will be required.’⁷³ These were difﬁcult to ﬁnd. Unlike Rosebery, he was not inclined to accept the need to forge strategic ties with Japan to contain Russia in Asia. Japanese civilization he regarded as a ‘mushroom civilization’, growing and decaying equally rapidly, and so politically unreliable.⁷⁴ Japan played a secondary role in Salisbury’s foreign policy calculations. Her strategic value to Britain, he reasoned, could ‘easily be overestimated’. Besides, ‘Russia could always ﬁnd some bribe in those seas for Japan.’⁷⁵ By the second half of the 1890s, Britain’s informal leaning towards the Triple Alliance had withered away; and Salisbury had come to mistrust the now more assertive Germany, and especially her young emperor.⁷⁶ Lacking strategic partners and ‘stiffer instruments’, Salisbury sought to contain French and Russian expansion in direct negotiations. In this he was only partially successful. French ambitions in south-eastern Asia and southern China were effectively contained in the Anglo-French convention of January 1896. Russia was more difﬁcult. A general regional modus vivendi with her proved unobtainable in early 1898, and Salisbury had to content himself with the more limited railway agreement of April 1899.⁷⁷ ⁷² Quoted from Hamilton to Curzon (private), 6 June 1900, Hamilton MSS, MSS.Eur.C.126/2; cf. T. G. Otte, ‘A Question of Leadership: Lord Salisbury, the Unionist Cabinet and Foreign PolicyMaking, 1895–1900’, CBH xiv, 4 (2000), 17–20. ⁷³ Min. Salisbury, n.d., on note Bertie to Salisbury, 6 Nov. 1897, Bertie MSS, FO 800/176. The later Salisbury’s views on the Russian problem are examined in depth in Neilson, Last Tsar, 6–9 et passim. ⁷⁴ Min. Salisbury, n.d. [14 Sept. 1889], Sanderson MSS, FO 800/1. ⁷⁵ Salisbury to Satow (private), 3 Oct. 1895, Satow MSS, PRO 30/33/5/2. Useful here I. H. Nish, ‘British Foreign Secretaries and Japan’, Shadow and Substance in British Foreign Policy, 1895–1939: Memorial Essays Honouring C. J. Lowe, ed. B. J. C. McKercher and D. J. Moss (Edmonton, Alb., 1984), 59–61. ⁷⁶ Memo. Salisbury, 2 Aug. 1900, Salisbury MSS, 3M/A/86/27; T.G. Otte, ‘ “The Winston of Germany”: The British Foreign Policy Élite and the Last German Emperor’, CJH xxxvi, 3 (2001), 488–9. ⁷⁷ Memo. Curzon, ‘Siam, France, and China’, 13 Aug. 1895, Curzon MSS, MSS.Eur.F.112/3; tel. Salisbury to O’Conor (no. 7, secret), 17 Jan. 1898, BD i, no. 5; J. D. Hargreaves, ‘Entente Manquée: Anglo-French Relations, 1895–6’, CHJ xi, 1 (1953), 65–92.

20

Introduction

When, in the aftermath of the Boxer crisis, the China Question entered its most acute phase, it fell to Salisbury’s successor, Lord Lansdowne, to ﬁnd the right instruments to check further Russian expansion and the danger of a confrontation in Asia. His foreign secretaryship has all too often been regarded as something of an interlude, an epilogue to Salisbury or a prologue to the increasing European entanglements under Sir Edward Grey. Alternatively, it has also been seen as an intermezzo in his own career, overshadowed by his less than successful spell at the War Ofﬁce, and by his later career as the die-hard leader of the Conservative opposition in the Lords.⁷⁸ When Salisbury moved Lansdowne to the Foreign Ofﬁce in November 1900, sections of the Conservative-leaning press criticized it as a lazy reshufﬂe rather than a proper reorganization. Lansdowne’s appointment in particular was singled out as a ‘ﬁrst-rate joke’. H. H. Munro (‘Saki’) lampooned Lansdowne as the ‘White Knight’ in his ‘The Westminster Alice’ satire: ‘ “The great art in falling off a horse [viz. War Ofﬁce]”, said the White Knight, “is to have another handy to fall on to [viz. Foreign Ofﬁce]. . . . It is not an easy animal to manage . . . but if I pat it and speak to it in French it will probably understand where I want to go. And . . . it may go there. A knowledge of French and an amiable disposition will see one out of most things.” ’⁷⁹ There was more to Henry Charles Keith Petty-Fitzmaurice, 5th Marquess of Lansdowne (1845–1927) as a politician than amiability and a linguistic facility. Born into a prominent Whig family, he parted company with Gladstone over the issue of Irish land legislation in 1880. Lansdowne’s wealth, social position, and his longevity in ofﬁce gave him a standing in late-Victorian politics. Like Kimberley, he was ‘a very “safe” man’.⁸⁰ In the early 1870s he had served as Under-Secretary at the War Ofﬁce. More signiﬁcantly, between 1883 and 1894 he ﬁlled pro-consular, imperial posts, ﬁrst as Governor-General of Canada and then Viceroy of India. In his North American posting he learnt to appreciate better than Salisbury the vast, though still only nascent, potential of Canada’s southern neighbour. His Indian viceroyalty and his presidency over the War Ofﬁce after 1895, impressed upon Lansdowne the need for military reform and concentrating the country’s resources. Inevitably, in India his ⁷⁸ The most telling neglect is by Cecil, British Foreign Secretaries, 311–13. Rather brief and superﬁcial is P. J. V. Rolo, ‘Lansdowne’, Foreign Secretaries, ed. Wilson, 159–71. Lord Newton’s Lord Lansdowne (London, 1929) is still the only extant biography; useful also H. Cecil, Lord Lansdowne, from the Entente Cordiale to the ‘Peace Letter’ of 1917: A European Statesman Assessed (London, 2004). ⁷⁹ Quotes from anon., ‘Reshufﬂe’, NR (Dec. 1900), 462–5; and The Novels and Plays of Saki (H.H. Munro) (London, repr. 1939), 306–9; see Shannon, Age of Salisbury, 526–8. ⁸⁰ Malcolm, Vacant Thrones, 82.

Introduction

21

attention was focused on the Russian threat in Central Asia. Lansdowne’s ample Asian experience and knowledge of Russian affairs made Rosebery offer him the St Petersburg embassy in 1893—another curious parallel with Kimberley, though he declined the offer.⁸¹ By temperament Lansdowne remained a Whig, and often gave the impression of being ‘ultra-cautious and undecided in character’.⁸² For the ﬁrst eighteen months of his spell at the Foreign Ofﬁce Salisbury’s presence still loomed in the background, and Lansdowne frequently consulted him. His foreign secretaryship began under adverse circumstances. The China Question had entered its most acute phase, and threw into sharper relief the constraints on British power. The government itself was divided on issues of foreign policy, and the country’s forces were insufﬁcient to deal with the crisis. Combined with the increased ﬁnancial burden of the Boer War, this meant that a ﬁrm policy against Russia was fraught with risks. Given his imperial experience Lansdowne was more knowledgeable about and also more sympathetic to the East.⁸³ At least, if he entertained any notions about the imminent decay of China, he was more discreet than his three predecessors in recording them. In general terms, he was anxious to stabilize post-Boxer China by curbing further foreign encroachments upon Chinese territory or sovereignty. Lansdowne was less optimistic about the status quo in Manchuria, the northernmost part of the Chinese Empire. But he was prepared to relinquish the Manchurian provinces to Russia only in return for a binding settlement. Any hopes in this direction, if they were ever seriously entertained, remained illusory.⁸⁴ In contrast to Salisbury, Lansdowne was prepared more actively to tackle Britain’s foreign policy problems, but he did so pragmatically. He was not driven by some strategic grand design. And if he did not drift, he still chose, like other Whigs, the line of least resistance. He pursued with vigour what was convenient in the short term. Longer-term consequences seem to have been less of a consideration. Indeed, the Japanese alliance, but also the Anglo-French entente of 1904, had consequences that Lansdowne had not fully appreciated. While decision-making powers over foreign policy lay with the Foreign Secretary and Prime Minister, and ultimately the Cabinet, the Foreign Ofﬁce ⁸¹ Newton, Lansdowne, 129. ⁸² Knollys to Bertie (private), 19 Nov. 1902, Bertie MSS, FO 800/163. ⁸³ Nish, ‘Foreign Secretaries’, 61–2. ⁸⁴ Lansdowne to Hamilton, 9 Apr. 1901, Lansdowne MSS, Lans (5) 28; and memo. Lansdowne, ‘Northern Railways’, 15 Feb. 1901, CAB 37/56/23.

22

Introduction

and the separate diplomatic service also made a signiﬁcant contribution to the foreign policy-making process. During the period examined here two senior civil servants were central to this process: Sir Thomas Sanderson and Francis Bertie, both experienced civil servants with considerable, albeit not ﬁrst-hand, knowledge of Far Eastern affairs. Sanderson was an old hand, having entered the Foreign Ofﬁce in 1859. A protégé of the 15th Earl of Derby and trained in the principles of Victorian statecraft, he was a staunch supporter of what he perceived to be Britain’s traditional policy. He also ‘cherished certain Liberal, or at least Whiggish sympathies’. A ‘man of vast knowledge and complete competence, . . . he belonged emphatically to the old school’.⁸⁵ Sanderson also shaped policy to a considerable degree, and certainly took charge of much of the day-to-day business of the Ofﬁce. Something of a martinet, ‘he made the Foreign Ofﬁce for so many years a one-man show . . . [which] he kept going by his own motive power’.⁸⁶ Sanderson supported Lansdowne’s alliance talks with Japan, which he thought would steady Japan, and so stabilize the volatile international relations of the Far East. In his views on China in this period, though, there was an underlying assumption that ‘the old gunboat diplomacy was the right one’.⁸⁷ He shared many of the anti-Russian sentiments of the late Victorian generation among the foreign policy elite, and was sceptical about Salisbury’s attempt to negotiate a settlement with Russia. He remained wary of her until his retirement from the service in 1906. His attitudes towards Britain’s Russian problem, as Keith Neilson has argued, were ‘compounded of cynicism and pragmatism’.⁸⁸ The same mixture coloured his approach to British diplomacy in general. He favoured cooperation with other Powers, if warranted by British interests, but not at any price. Thus, he increasingly came to regard the Germans as ‘difﬁcult people’ to deal with.⁸⁹ Sanderson’s relations with Bertie were always difﬁcult; and this often led to them taking opposite views on any given foreign policy issue.⁹⁰ Unlike the ⁸⁵ Quotes from Sir A. Hardinge, A Diplomatist in Europe (London, 1927), 86–7; and Sir J. Tilley, London to Tokyo (London, 1942), 69. Rosebery had signiﬁcantly extended the functions of the PUS, see min. Rosebery, 31 Dec. 1893, FO 366/760. ⁸⁶ Chirol to Hardinge (private), 18 Oct. 1904, Hardinge MSS, Hardinge 7. ⁸⁷ Satow diary, 25 June 1900, Satow MSS, PRO 30/33/16/3; also Sanderson to Scott (private), 4 July 1900, Scott MSS, Add.MSS. 52298. ⁸⁸ Neilson, Last Tsar, 22; cf. Sanderson to Scott (private), 7 May 1902, Scott MSS, Add.MSS. 52299. ⁸⁹ Sanderson to O’Conor (private), 27 Sept. 1901, O’Conor MSS, OCON 6/1/28. ⁹⁰ Bertie to Hardinge, 4 and 9 June 1902, Hardinge MSS, Hardinge 3; see also Steiner, Foreign Ofﬁce, 34 n. and 70–1.

Introduction

23

somewhat stiff and methodical Sanderson, Bertie had all the self-conﬁdence of a man of aristocratic background (he was a younger son of the Earl of Abingdon). Violent and petulant by temperament and a caustic neo-Bismarckian in his political preferences, Bertie ‘The Bull’, was a sharp-eyed and shrewd observer. If his relations with Lansdowne were a little distant, he found Salisbury more receptive to his ideas.⁹¹ Nevertheless, in East Asian matters Bertie wielded considerable inﬂuence within the Foreign Ofﬁce. This grew further following the creation of a new Far Eastern department in 1899, which led to greater specialization and expertise in Asian affairs at a time when this arena became the principal focus of Great Power politics. Bertie was also the chief conduit for communication with the China Association.⁹² Among diplomats a posting to Peking was anything but popular. Diplomatic life in the East Asian outposts had many discomforts: ‘the petty squabbles here, the sameness of people, and the general twiddle twaddle’, as one young member of the Peking legation put it. The heat, the noises and smells of summer were intolerable; and life seemed bearable only at the summer residence out in the Western hills.⁹³ A further tribulation was the dry climate; and the health risks of a posting to Peking were not inconsiderable. Among Britain’s envoys Sir Harry Parkes, the legendary gunboat diplomatist, who had spent much of his career at Tokyo, suffered fainting ﬁts following his transfer to China, and then died at his post. ‘[T]he trying climate and his arduous duties at Peking’ also undermined the health of Nicholas Roderick O’Conor, who was minister at Peking between 1892 and 1895.⁹⁴ His successor, Sir Claude MacDonald, who had previously spent ﬁve years, apparently unscathed, as commissioner in the Oil River delta, one of the unhealthiest foreign postings, was frequently ill during his four years at Peking.⁹⁵ ⁹¹ Bertie to Spring-Rice, 26 Dec. 1902, Spring-Rice MSS, CASR I/1/2; K. A. Hamilton, Bertie of Thame: Edwardian Ambassador (Woodbridge, 1991). ⁹² Foreign Ofﬁce List 1900, ed. Sir E. Hertslet (London, 1900), 5–6; Gosselin to O’Conor, 4 Apr. 1899, O’Conor MSS, OCON 6/1/19; Pelcovits, Old China Hands, 196. ⁹³ Arthur Nicolson as quoted in H. Nicolson, Sir Arthur Nicolson, Bart., First Lord Carnock: A Study in the Old Diplomacy (London, 1930), 17; Edward Malet’s reﬂections in ‘Life at the Temple’, June 1872, Malet MSS, DD/MAL/539. For a useful, general discussion of this topic see V. G. Kiernan, ‘Diplomats in Exile’, Studies in Diplomatic History: Essays in memory of David Bayne Horn, ed. R. Hatton and M. S. Anderson (London, 1970), 306–21; also J. E. Hoare, Embassies in the East (Richmond, 1999), 30–5. ⁹⁴ Obituary of Sir Nicholas O’Conor, The Times (20 Mar. 1908). For Parkes see Howard diary, 22 Mar. 1885, Howard-von Reccum MSS, cont. 1/ 2; also Lady S. Townley, ‘Indiscretions’ of Lady Susan (London, 1922), 80. ⁹⁵ The Times (15 Mar. 1899); Baelz to Satow, 23 Nov. 1899, Satow MSS, PRO 30/33/5/5.

24

Introduction

The chief drawbacks of a posting to China were its remoteness from the centres of diplomatic activity in the major capitals of Europe, and ‘the bewildering world of Chinese politics’. Geographical distance, moreover, translated into diminished career prospects: ‘there is always the danger at [Peking] of a man coming to be considered as an Eastern Diplomat, very useful where he is, but out of the current, quâ European politics.’⁹⁶ Peking posts were often difﬁcult to ﬁll; and career-conscious budding diplomats not infrequently refused offers of a transfer to China. Overall, there was a dearth of men of ‘ “ﬁrst-rate abilities, resolute character & Eastern experience” ’ who were willing to accept a Peking appointment. As Salisbury noted in 1895, ‘[t]he mission is so much disliked that no one will go who has a chance of anything else.’⁹⁷ Of the three British ministers who served at Peking between 1894 and 1905, only one, O’Conor, was a regular diplomat. The other two were a career soldier who had strayed into diplomacy, and a consular ofﬁcial who had successfully transferred to the diplomatic service. Whatever its overall accuracy, the contemporary deﬁnition of a diplomat abroad ‘as a clerk in gold lace at the end of the telegraph wire, only acting on orders from Whitehall and daily reporting to the Foreign Secretary’ was not applicable to Peking.⁹⁸ Unlike Tokyo, the Peking legation offered greater freedom of action. Whereas important business with Japan tended to be conducted in London, Chinese matters were left largely in the hands of Britain’s man-on-the-spot. When accepting the Peking legation, Satow was clear ‘that it was a difﬁcult post, [and] Tokyo a much softer thing’.⁹⁹ N. R. (later Sir Nicholas) O’Conor was a career diplomatist. Like so many senior ofﬁcials in the foreign and colonial services, he was of Hiberno-Scottish descent, but also a Roman Catholic. He entered the diplomatic service in 1866, and in 1883 was appointed Secretary of Legation at Peking. On the ⁹⁶ Quotes from obituary of Sir Thomas Wade, The Times (2 Aug. 1895); and Cockerell to O’Conor (private), 3 Mar. 1892, O’Conor MSS, OCON 6/1/3. ⁹⁷ Salisbury to Curzon (private), 30 Sept. 1895, Curzon MSS, MSS.Eur.F.112/1A. Sir John Walsham, minister 1885–92, proved incompetent and lazy, see Salisbury to Walsham (separate), 12 Nov. 1891, FO 228/1059. He was removed shortly afterwards, see R. A. Jones, The British Diplomatic Service, 1815–1914 (Gerrards Cross, 1983), 211–12. ⁹⁸ T. G. Bowles’s dictum, as quoted in T. H. S. Escott, The Story of British Diplomacy: Its Makers and Movements (London, 1908), 368. For a thoughtful discussion, see K. Neilson, ‘ “Only a d—d marionette”?: The Inﬂuence of Ambassadors on British Foreign Policy, 1904–1914’, Diplomacy and World Power: Studies in British Foreign Policy, 1890–1950, ed. M. L. Dockrill and B. J. C. McKercher (Cambridge, 1996), 56–78. ⁹⁹ Satow diary, 22 June 1900, Satow MSS, PRO 30/33/16/3. At £5,000 p.a. the Peking post was also better salaried than Tokyo (£4,000), Foreign Ofﬁce List 1900, 24 and 31.

Introduction

25

death of Sir Harry Parkes in 1885, he found himself in charge of the legation at a particularly critical time during the Anglo-Russian Pendjeh crisis. He was judged to have acquitted himself well, and he also successfully negotiated the Anglo-Chinese agreements on Tibet and Burma.¹⁰⁰ He returned to Peking as minister in 1892. A blunt and rigorous diplomat, O’Conor was a disciple of Parkes in his preference for ﬁrmness when dealing with the Chinese, suggesting, for instance, ‘strong measures’ by the Royal Navy to deal with anti-foreign rioting along the upper reaches of the Yangtze.¹⁰¹ O’Conor was nevertheless impressed with the potential power and resources of the Chinese Empire, and urged some form of intervention to prevent Japan’s ascendancy in East Asia. Given his Near and Far Eastern experience, he was strongly anti-Russian; and Russia’s further expansion in Manchuria remained a constant concern with him. Indeed, during the Sino-Japanese War there was a distinct ‘want of harmony’ between him and especially his French and Russian colleagues.¹⁰² O’Conor’s successor MacDonald was ‘a “soldier-outsider” ’ in the diplomatic service.¹⁰³ Born into an Anglo-Indian military family, he had a distinguished enough army career, having fought in the 1882 Egyptian campaign and the 1884 Suakin expedition, but did not rise above the rank of Major. Between 1882 and 1887 he was military attaché at the British agency in Cairo, and in 1887 he became acting agent on Zanzibar. In 1889, the Foreign Ofﬁce sent him to the Oil River (Niger) protectorate, and he assisted at the Berlin negotiations on the delimitation of the Anglo-German Congo frontier. MacDonald was little more than ‘an infantry ofﬁcer, with a pleasant manner, but no knowledge of the East’.¹⁰⁴ He owed his appointment entirely to Salisbury, who decided to settle for ‘some cleverish man who knows nothing of the Far East’; and this, he determined, was MacDonald: ‘The Oil rivers are so detestable that he probably would accept the post & he has done well all he has tried.’ Salisbury continued to hold ‘our most excellent and efﬁcient representative’ in high regard.¹⁰⁵ MacDonald, in the words of a long-serving China consul, ‘looked the part of Minister to perfection. He was tall, fair, with ¹⁰⁰ Rosebery to O’Conor (private), 14 May 1886, O’Conor MSS, OCON 6/1/2; cf. Kiernan, British Diplomacy in China, 15. ¹⁰¹ Tel. O’Conor to Kimberley (no. 69), 13 June 1895, FO 405/68/11; The Times (20 Mar. 1908). ¹⁰² O’Conor to Kimberley (private), 22 Nov. 1894, Kimberley MSS, MS.Eng.c.4396; Lascelles to Kimberley (private), 28 Mar. 1895, ibid., MS.Eng.c.4405; see Gérard to Hanotaux (no. 103), 5 Nov. 1894, DDF (1) xi, 270. ¹⁰³ MacDonald to Grey (private), 22 Sept. 1912, Grey MSS, FO 800/68. ¹⁰⁴ Escott, British Diplomacy, 376. ¹⁰⁵ Quotes from Salisbury to Curzon (private), 30 Sept. 1895, Curzon MSS, MSS.Eur.F.112/1A; and The Times (15 June 1898).

26

Introduction

piercing blue eyes, loose-limbed and full of life.’ He saw himself in the same mould as Parkes: ‘but by the Lord Sir Harry [viz. Parkes], put the screws on, the higher the Mandarin the tighter the screw.’¹⁰⁶ In this he displayed ‘normal European attitudes towards China . . . stern and hard-hearted; and by the standards of the time, MacDonald protected Britain’s interests ably’.¹⁰⁷ During the scramble for concessions MacDonald proved to be an energetic representative. Western traders in China expected ‘their man’ to be ‘proﬁcient in tablethumping’. MacDonald was certainly that, helping British merchants to acquire more concessions than they could ever hope to realize. Arthur Balfour complained that the minister was ‘very obstinate and not always intelligent’.¹⁰⁸ MacDonald was slow to recognize early warning signs of the approaching Boxer crisis. Once it was upon him, his training, sturdiness, phlegm stood him in good stead. He took charge of the defence of the besieged legation quarter. Like all diplomats with Eastern experience, MacDonald was suspicious of France and Russia. He was initially rather sceptical about Japan’s strategic value to Britain, but later became reconciled to the Anglo-Japanese alliance.¹⁰⁹ The contrast between MacDonald and Sir Ernest Satow, ‘an efﬁcient, wary, discreet . . . diplomatist . . . a most methodical paper-worker’, could hardly have been greater. Nearly ten years MacDonald’s senior, Satow had joined the Japan consular service in 1861 and spent thirteen years at Tokyo, during which time he established a reputation as one of the foremost Orientalists in the foreign service. He was one of the few consular ofﬁcials in the nineteenth century to transfer to the separate and more prestigious diplomatic service. After four years at Bangkok, he was Minister at Montevideo and Tangier, before being appointed to Tokyo.¹¹⁰ Satow was perhaps most inﬂuential in Japan, though ¹⁰⁶ Quotes from Sir M. Hewlett, Forty Years in China (London, 1943), 6; and MacDonald to Satow, 1 Jan. 1901, Satow MSS, PRO 30/33/9/14; cf. W. J. Oudendyk, Ways and By-ways in Diplomacy (London, 1939), 36–8 and 116. ¹⁰⁷ I. H. Nish, The Anglo-Japanese Alliance: A Study of Two Island Empires (London, 1966), 146. ¹⁰⁸ Quotes from Satow diary, 19 Apr. 1906, Satow MSS, PRO 30/33/16/9; and Balfour to Salisbury, 30 Aug. 1898, Balfour MSS, Add.MSS. 49691; cf. M. H. Wilgus, Sir Claude MacDonald, the Open Door, and British Informal Empire in China, 1895–1900 (New York, 1987), 92–4. ¹⁰⁹ MacDonald to Satow (private), 30 Nov. 1900, 21 Jan. 1901 and 2 May 1902, Satow MSS, PRO 30/33/9/14, Satow MSS, PRO 30/33/9/14; see The Times (11 Sept. 1915). A useful pen portrait is I. H. Nish, ‘Sir Claude and Lady Ethel MacDonald’, Britain and Japan: Biographical Portraits, ed. idem (Folkestone, 1994), 133–45. ¹¹⁰ B. M. Allen, The Rt. Hon. Sir Ernest Satow: A Memoir (London, 1933) remains the only biography. Useful also G. A. Lensen, Korea and Manchuria between Russia and Japan, 1895–1904: The Observations of Sir Ernest Satow (Tallahassee, Fla., repr. 1968), 1–43, and N. J. Brailey, ‘Sir Ernest Satow, Japan and Asia: The Trials of a Diplomat in the Age of High Imperialism’, HJ xxxv, 1 (1992), 115–50.

Introduction

27

the Japanese government was not pleased with his appointment in 1895: ‘They regard him as a disciple and ally of Sir Harry Parkes whose very name ﬁlls them with feelings of terror & madness.’¹¹¹ Later scholars have ascribed to him a broader and pro-Oriental outlook; but Satow was an effective, if understated, representative of British interests. His reputation in London was mixed. Salisbury did not regard him as having ‘ﬁrst-rate abilities’; and even the usually supportive Sanderson thought him confused and confusing.¹¹² Satow’s attitude towards the Chinese Question was complex. Until the Russo-Japanese War he was pessimistic about China’s ability to modernize: ‘People forget the passive resistance of the Chinese, who are like India rubber. You can make an impression with your ﬁnger, but as soon as you remove it, the effect disappears.’¹¹³ On the eve of the Russo-Japanese War, he anticipated a partition of China ‘à la mode de Pologne’. Russian expansion was a constant concern for Satow throughout his career: ‘Russia was an absorbing power: she aimed at universal domination, being the youngest of the nations, full of sap; Eastern Europe and the whole of Asia was what she aimed at.’ Reﬂecting the earlier trends in British foreign policy, Satow tended to favour close cooperation with the German-led Triple Alliance, but became more wary of the ‘hectoring way of Germany’.¹¹⁴ These were the men who presided over the crucial period in British foreign policy between 1894 and 1905, when China and the ‘China Question’ lay at the centre of the rapidly changing international scene. How their concerns and approaches to the Far Eastern problems translated into policy, and how these problems determined the shape and direction of British policy, will be examined in the following chapters.

¹¹¹ Lowther to Wodehouse (private), 26 May 1895, Kimberley MSS, MS.Eng.c.4396. The Japanese also frowned on Satow’s common-law Japanese wife, ibid.; see also Zusetsu Aanesuto Sato: Bakumatsu-ishin no Igirisu gaiko-kan [The Ernest Satow Album: Portraits of a British Diplomat in Young Japan] ed. Yokohama kaiko shiryo-kan [Yokohama Archives of History] (Yokohama, 2001), 92–5. ¹¹² Salisbury to Curzon (private), 30 Sept.1895, Curzon MSS, MSS.Eur.F.112/1A; Sanderson to Kimberley (private), 22 Sept. 1894, Kimberley MSS, MS.Eng.c.4380. The Dutch Foreign Minister, Willem Hendrik de Beaufort, thought him ‘above all an imperialist’, Beaufort diary, 13 Nov. 1914, BDB ii, 667. ¹¹³ Satow diary, 18 Feb. 1898, Satow MSS, PRO 30/33/16/1; see also. T. G. Otte, ‘ “Not proﬁcient in table-thumping”: Sir Ernest Satow at Peking, 1900–1906’, D&S xiii, 2 (2002), 161–200. ¹¹⁴ Quotes from Satow to Rockhill (private), 7 July 1904, Rockhill MSS, b*46M/386/2377; and Satow diary, 29 Oct. 1901 and 16 Dec. 1905, Satow MSS, PRO 30/33/16/4 and 16/9.

1 ‘An inﬁnitely larger Eastern question’: The Powers and the Sino-Japanese War, 1894–5 Japan’s victory over China in 1895 turned the Chinese Empire into an object of Great Power politics. In the spring of that year a Times leader argued that international politics had undergone a major revolution, and British foreign policy had to adapt to the altered situation: ‘A new world has been called into existence in the Far East. We must live with it and make the best of it.’ Indeed, the paper continued, Japan’s victory was a defeat for British diplomacy: Britain’s prestige in the East had been dented, whereas Japan had secured for herself a new regional position of strength.¹ The following decade was to show that the impact of the dislocation of the Far Eastern status quo went far beyond that region. The war in Asia produced the China Question; and with it began the problems of Britain’s international isolation. After his resignation, Rosebery defended himself against the charge of vacillation before and during the conﬂict. Britain might herself have become embroiled in the conﬂict, ‘and it would seem a strange policy, not indeed to prevent the evils of war, but to divert those evils from Japan to ourselves, with the certain prospect of dragging in the other European Powers, who from jealousy could not hold aloof ’. Rosebery refuted the allegation that his government had been insufﬁciently friendly to the rising power of Japan: British naval instructors had helped to educate the growing Japanese navy, and the AngloJapanese commercial treaty of July 1894 had paved the path for the revision of the so-called unequal treaties system. He poured scorn on The Times’s policy proposals: ‘ “the policy of the expert” appears to be to keep a simultaneous and ¹ The Times (23 Apr. 1895); cf. The Times, The History of The Times, vol.iii, The Twentieth Century Test, 1884–1912 (London, 1947), 187–96.

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overwhelming inﬂuence with China and Japan during a ﬁerce war between the two nations. This is a policy easy to put forward: he forgets, however, to indicate the means by which it should be carried out.’² Rosebery’s apologia was cogent, if predictable. It highlighted the three key factors which circumscribed British policy during the war: Britain’s limited ability to exercise a moderating inﬂuence over the two belligerents; the chronic mismatch between British regional interests and the naval means at her disposal in the locale to defend these interests; and the potential for escalation in the event of British intervention. Two years later, at the height of the next international crisis in China, Rosebery went further still in developing the rationale of his policy in 1894–5. It was, he wrote: 1. To have Japan on our side; 2. To reserve strength for this question and possible occasion of a similar kind. [. . .] I would have Great Britain hanging like a thundercloud over these ﬁlibusters: not dispersed in showers all over the Empire.³

Neither of Rosebery’s two explanations was misleading, though in 1897 he was clearly already creating a myth of some kind. In reality, British foreign policy was more complex still. The Sino-Japanese War has received comparatively little attention from historians. This belies its signiﬁcance for the course of international politics in the late 1890s, and for British foreign policy in particular.⁴ The war itself was caused by Sino-Japanese rivalry on the Korean peninsula, while the immediate causes of the war lay in the outbreak of unrest in Korea between anti-Japanese nationalists and reformers who sought to emulate Japan’s Meiji modernization. The failure of the Seoul government to suppress the Tonghak insurgency led to the dispatch of Chinese and Japanese troops, and Japan’s declaration of war on 1 August 1894.⁵ ² Rosebery to Spender (private), 1 Oct. 1895, Spender MSS, BL, Add.MSS. 46387; cf. H.W. Harris, J. A. Spender (London, 1946), 98. ³ Rosebery to Wemyss Reid (conﬁdential), 30 Dec. 1897, in Earl of Crewe, Lord Rosebery (2 vols., London, 1931), ii, 554. ⁴ I. H. Nish’s classic The Anglo-Japanese Alliance: The Diplomacy of Two Island Empires, 1894–1907 (Westport, Conn., repr. 1976), 23–35, acknowledges the importance of the conﬂict, but offers no real analysis of it; K. Neilson, Britain and the Last Tsar: British Policy and the Last Tsar, 1894–1917 (Oxford, 1995), 147–60, provides a detailed account, but remains focused on Anglo-Russian relations. Historians of Japan have invariably paid more attention to this war, see W. G. Beasley, Japanese Imperialism, 1894–1945 (Oxford, pb. ed. 1991), 41–54. ⁵ R. Hackett, Yamagata Arimoto in the Rise of Modern Japan, 1838–1922 (Cambridge, Mass., 1971), 138–9; see H. Conroy, The Japanese Seizure of Korea, 1868–1910: a Study in Realism and Idealism (Philadelphia, Pa., 1960).

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In London, Rosebery and Kimberley anticipated that a Sino-Japanese conﬂict would have repercussions for Britain’s own position in East Asia. It has often been argued that British sympathies during the early stages of the war lay with China.⁶ There is little archival evidence to substantiate this assertion. The British attitude was more even-handed and complex. It is true, early in 1894, Rosebery reminded Britain’s minister at Peking, N. R. O’Conor, that ‘the interests of England and China are so identical in many parts of Asia’.⁷ But this did not translate into active support for China during the war with Japan. Had the British government been inspired by pro-Chinese sentiments, it could have threatened to abort the far-reaching Anglo-Japanese commercial treaty of 16 July 1894. No effort was made to use economic leverage to bring pressure to bear upon Japan, but Kimberley made several attempts to prevent the outbreak of a military conﬂict in the Far East. O’Conor was instructed to exercise a moderating inﬂuence on the ministers of the Tsungli Yamên.⁸ From the outset the British minister at Peking tried to maintain good relations between China and Japan: ‘we can have no other policy!’ In early June, he thought that in the event of Sino-Japanese complications over Korea, Britain’s ‘friendly advice’ would sufﬁce to avert a conﬂict.⁹ By the end of that month he was less certain. Although the build-up of Chinese troops was slow, O’Conor warned that the ‘drift of events is dangerously in the direction of war and perhaps other complications’. Japan, he speculated, hoped ‘to obtain from China a joint guarantee of Corean integrity while ousting her from her position of ascendancy there’.¹⁰ The Japanese minister at Berlin, Viscount Aoki Sh˚zo, who was brieﬂy in charge of the London legation, came close to admitting as much on the following day during an interview with Kimberley. Not satisﬁed with repeated Japanese assurances that Tokyo was taking every precaution to avoid complications, Kimberley ‘earnestly advised Japan not to provoke a collision’—the real object of Japan’s foreign minister Mutsu Munemitsu. Kimberley warned that any clash between China and Japan over their aspirations in Korea would provoke a Russian intervention.¹¹ Kimberley was reluctant to use any but strictly diplomatic tools to avert war. He rejected Chinese suggestions of a naval demonstration in Korean waters ⁶ R. S. McCordock, British Far Eastern Policy, 1894–1900 (New York, repr. 1976 [orig.1931]), 80–1; B. A. Romanov, Russia in Manchuria, 1892–1906 (New York, repr. 1974), 64–5. ⁷ Tel. Rosebery to O’Conor (no. 7), 27 Jan. 1894, FO 17/1202. ⁸ Tel. O’Conor to Kimberley (no. 25), 19 June 1894, FO 17/1204; Nish, Anglo-Japanese Alliance, 23–4. ⁹ O’Conor to Sanderson (private), 9 June 1894, O’Conor MSS, OCON 5/5/5. ¹⁰ Tel. O’Conor to Kimberley (no. 26, secret), 22 June 1894, FO 17/1202. ¹¹ Tels. Kimberley to O’Conor (nos. 41 and 42), 21 and 26 June 1894, FO 17/1202.

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to compel Japan to accept a compromise solution¹² It was an obvious attempt to involve the other Powers in the ensuing conﬂict in an effort to counterbalance Japan. On 29 June, Kimberley reiterated his warning of Russian intervention in the event of war. In early July, he instructed Britain’s representative in Tokyo to play on Japan’s assumed fear of the Russian threat, and emphasize that the present course of Japanese foreign policy ‘would only afford greater opportunity for the intervention of foreign powers’.¹³ Meanwhile, British diplomacy at Tokyo was hamstrung. Legation affairs there were left in the charge of Ralph Spencer Paget, a mere Third Secretary, after the sudden death in June of Britain’s minister, Hugh Fraser. Though capable, Paget was too junior to carry much weight with the Itf cabinet.¹⁴ Until Fraser’s successor, Henry Le Poer Trench, arrived in Tokyo, the success of Kimberley’s efforts, then, depended principally on the Foreign Secretary himself. If Kimberley’s warning of the Russian threat produced only limited effect on the Japanese, it more accurately reﬂected his own concerns. Whatever active steps Britain might take in the Korean crisis would have repercussions for Anglo-Russian relations. British diplomacy during the Sino-Japanese War cannot properly be understood if studied in isolation from relations between London and St Petersburg. Thus, Kimberley’s conﬁding to the French Ambassador, Pierre-Albert Decrais, that he was greatly concerned about ‘la tournure grave’ on the Korean peninsula, and that Britain’s regional interests would not permit her to remain indifferent, was aimed more at Russia than at his colleague at the Quai d’Orsay.¹⁵ Russian diplomacy was by no means passive during June, though the Russian leadership was not yet prepared to embark on an overtly active Far Eastern policy. Russia’s Asiatic strategy was long-term, and dependent on the completion of the Trans-Siberian railway which then still lay some years in the future. At the end of June, St Petersburg offered its good ofﬁces to facilitate Sino-Japanese talks.¹⁶ Five days later, Russia’s minister at Tokyo, Mikhail Aleksandrovich Khitrovo, informed Mutsu that Japan would incur ‘la sérieuse ¹² Tel. O’Conor to Kimberley (no. 31, conﬁdential), 1 July 1894, FO 17/1204. ¹³ Tel. Kimberley to Paget (no. 18), 3 July 1894, FO 405/60/33. ¹⁴ On this point, see Kimberley to Lascelles (private), 7 Aug. 1894, Lascelles MSS, FO 800/15; and Sanderson to Paget (private), 7 Sept. 1894, Paget MSS, Add.MSS. 51252. ¹⁵ Tel. Hanotaux to Montebello (no. 78), 1 July 1894, DDF (1) xi, no.180; tel. Kimberley to O’Conor (no. 45), 2 July 1894, FO 17/1202; see R. Dollot, ‘Un Ambassadeur de France sous la Troisième République: Albert Decrais (1838–1915)’, RHD lxiii, 1 (1949), 34–5. ¹⁶ Précis of interview Mutsu–Khitrovo, 25 June 1894, enclosed in Paget to Kimberley (no. 68), 8 July 1894, FO 46/436; S. I. Witte, Erinnerungen (Berlin, 1922), 31–6.

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responsabilité’ if her forces were not withdrawn from Korea simultaneously with the Chinese troops there.¹⁷ O’Conor warned that Russia was likely to take the lead in an international initiative. For the moment, Russian and British objectives were not too far apart. Certainly, the Russian proposal of a simultaneous troop withdrawal from Korea suggested itself as a suitable basis for negotiations between Peking and Tokyo. The Tsungli Yamên accepted O’Conor’s advice, and signalled its willingness to reopen negotiations on condition that the question of Chinese suzerainty over Korea was not to be touched.¹⁸ If the task of getting the two sides to negotiate was not already difﬁcult enough, Kimberley’s diplomacy had to attain yet another objective. The British Foreign Secretary was, in fact, engaged in a diplomatic manoeuvre on two fronts simultaneously. In addition to averting war, he had to ensure that this would not come about through an arrangement that might prove detrimental to British interests around the China Seas, as he warned China and Japan.¹⁹ Paget was instructed to urge Mutsu to reopen talks: ‘no time is to be lost if [the] Japanese Gov[ernmen]t desire to avoid [the] danger of European intervention in [the] affairs of Corea.’²⁰ Sir Edward Grey, Kimberley’s Parliamentary UnderSecretary, reiterated that ‘every effort which could properly be made by us will be used to bring about a friendly arrangement between [China and Japan]’.²¹ Indeed, it seemed to Kimberley as though the Japanese leaders were amenable to British representations. On 6 July, Aoki Sh˚zf, Japan’s minister in London, informed the Foreign Ofﬁce that his government was willing to enter into talks with the Chinese subject to their acceptance of three conditions: (1) the restoration of order; (2) the formation of a joint Sino-Japanese commission to implement and supervise the necessary administrative and ﬁnancial reforms in Korea; and (3) the re-organization of the Korean armed forces into an ‘efﬁcient army for self-preservation’. Japan would refrain from raising the contentious issue of Korea’s independence provided China did likewise, while the question of the evacuation of the peninsula was to be addressed once negotiations had commenced. Finally, the Tokyo government demanded that ¹⁷ Note Khitrovo to Mutsu (no. 218), 18/30 June 1894, DJ i, 77; tel. O’Conor to Kimberley (no. 34, conﬁdential), 3 July 1894, FO 17/1202. ¹⁸ Tel. O’Conor to Kimberley (no. 32), 2 July 1894, FO 17/1204; tel. Mutsu to Komura, 1 July 1894, in DJ i, 78. ¹⁹ Tels. Kimberley to O’Conor (nos. 45 and 50), 2 and 7 July 1894, FO 17/1202; tel. Aoki to Mutsu, 3 July 1894, DJ i, 78–9. ²⁰ Summarized in tel. Kimberley to O’Conor (no. 47), 5 July 1894, FO 17/1202. ²¹ PD, 4th ser. xxvi (5 July 1894), col. 950.

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Japan be given ‘equal rights and privileges with China in all matters, political as well as commercial’. Kimberley supported this ‘reasonable proposal’ as the basis for bilateral talks, but to no avail. The Japanese severed diplomatic relations with China on 12 July.²² Kimberley may well have anticipated that O’Conor and Paget would be unable to bring sufﬁcient pressure to bear upon the two parties to coerce them into talks. He now proposed to the governments of France, Germany, Russia, and the United States a joint intervention to facilitate a peaceful solution to the Korean crisis.²³ His efforts were in vain. The United States government immediately declined. The Germans, as Sanderson rightly predicted, would only intervene in the Sino-Japanese conﬂict if German trade in the region were affected; and, at any rate, ‘they would rather put us in front’. For the moment, the Wilhelmstrasse was content to let either Russia or Britain take the lead in the matter. The French government meanwhile hinted that they would be guided by the actions of Russia and Britain, ‘though they were not disposed to interfere ofﬁcially’. In light of the strategic importance which was attached to the Russian alliance at the Quai d’Orsay it was unlikely that any French support could be counted upon until Russia moved.²⁴ The key to the success of Kimberley’s second diplomatic initiative, then, lay with Russia. Her political leaders, however, were in no hurry to respond.²⁵ Both Tsar Alexander III and his long-serving Foreign Minister, Nikolai Karlovich Giers, were ailing, and would indeed be dead by November 1894 and early 1895 respectively. Decision-making at St Petersburg was gradually paralysed over the next few months. However, given the long-term nature of Russia’s Asiatic strategy, it was clearly not advisable for St Petersburg to take precipitate action. Instead, Giers decided to play for time, and enquired through the long-serving ambassador at London, Baron Georg F. C. von Staal, as to the precise nature of Kimberley’s proposed joint intervention, and more especially ‘whether we contemplated any steps going beyond advice’. That, of course, was more than Kimberley was prepared to do, and he was forced merely to repeat his desire for the other Powers to join him in pressing China and Japan ²² Tel. Kimberley to O’Conor (no. 48), 6 July 1894, FO 17/1202. For details in DJ i, 79–80; M. Munemutsu, Kenkenroku: A Diplomatic Record of the Sino-Japanese War, 1894–5, transl. and ed. G. M. Berger (Tokyo, 1982), 47–8. ²³ Kimberley to Malet (no. 177), 9 July 1894, FO 64/1325. ²⁴ Quotes from Sanderson to Kimberley (private), 8 July 1894, Kimberley MSS, MS.Eng.c.4380; and tel. Hanotaux to Montebello (no. 85), 11 July 1894, DDF (1), xi, no.188; see Rotenhan to Kiderlen-Wächter, 16 July 1894, GP ix, no. 2213. ²⁵ Tels. Howard to Kimberley (nos. 43 and 44), 10 July 1894, FO 65/1474; Kimberley to Rosebery, 13 July 1894, 13 July 1894, Rosebery MSS 10068.

34

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to come to an agreement. Should diplomacy fail, and further steps became necessary, they ought to be considered at a later stage.²⁶ In the meantime, Russian diplomacy in Asia also underwent a subtle change. At the beginning of July Mutsu responded to Khitrovo’s sternly worded note of 30 June, proposing the simultaneous withdrawal of troops from Korea, by re-assuring the Russian government that Japan had no designs on Korea, and that her forces would be evacuated as soon as order was restored. Giers received these assurances ‘avec une extrème satisfaction’, and instructed Khitrovo to urge Mutsu to open negotiations with the Chinese without delay so as to avoid the possibility of a clash between Chinese and Japanese troops in Korea. With this notable softening in her attitude towards Japan, Russia’s mediation effort in the Far East came to an end—a circumstance of which Mutsu was quick to inform Kimberley.²⁷ It also meant that Giers would not now join in Kimberley’s proposed diplomatic intervention by all the Powers interested in East Asia. Russia, as Giers informed Staal, expected a conﬂict to be unavoidable now, but would remain passive for as long as the conﬂict remained strictly localized.²⁸ In a last effort to avert war, Kimberley suggested a joint Sino-Japanese occupation of Korea, with a clearly deﬁned buffer zone to separate the occupying forces. Diplomacy would thus gain time to resolve the Korean dispute.²⁹ Kimberley hoped to coerce China and Japan by means of coordinating the policies of the European Great Powers.³⁰ While the Tsungli Yamên signalled its acceptance of the proposal, the Powers preferred to settle down and await the beginning of hostilities before they would consider active steps. Under these circumstances it was unlikely that Japan could be compelled to disengage. Time was running out. Itf and Mutsu now wanted to have their war on the Asian mainland, and following the Japanese ultimatum of 20 July there was no more room for British mediation.³¹ ²⁶ Kimberley to Howard (no. 190), 16 July 1894, FO 65/1471; see Montebello to Hanotaux (no. 83, conﬁdentiel), 25 July 1894, DDF (1) xi, no. 205. ²⁷ Notes Mutsu to Khitrovo, 2 July 1894, and vice versa, 1/13 July 1894, DJ i, 89–92; Kimberley to Paget (no. 76), 17 July 1894, FO 405/60/104. ²⁸ Giers to Staal, 20 July 1894 (New Style), SC, i, 249. ²⁹ Tels. Kimberley to O’Conor (nos. 59 and 60), 16 July 1894, FO 17/1202. ³⁰ Tels. Kimberley to Malet (no. 31), Howard, (no. 26), Ford (no. 45), and Phipps (no. 54), 20 July 1894, FO 27/3175. ³¹ Tel. O’Conor to Kimberley (no. 48), 18 July 1894, FO 17/1204; note Mutsu to Paget, 22 July 1894, DJ i, 82–3. A last minute mediation effort by Italy was no more than a side-show, see tels. Tornelli to Blanc (no. 1940), 12 July 1894, and vice versa (no. 2011), 19 July 1894, DDI (2) xxvi, nos. 430 and 450.

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Already before Mutsu’s communication to Paget of 22 July Kimberley had resigned himself to let matters run their course. Coercion, unless backed up by credible and effective means of sanction, was always likely to fail: ‘Stern language unless of a menacing character is not likely to deter the Japanese from making the most of their opportunity.’³² At no stage since the outbreak of the Korean crisis had Kimberley been prepared to go beyond purely diplomatic means. At Peking, O’Conor had not yet arrived at that conclusion. In a last minute effort, he tried to convince both Kimberley and Paget that diplomacy had not yet played its last card. War would be ‘disastrous’, and it was ‘not in our political interests to see [China] weakened, and much less crippled for a number of years’.³³ His assurance to Paget that the government in London ‘is doing everything in their power to avert a quarrel’ was more wishful thinking than a realistic assessment of recent developments. Nevertheless he urged the young chargé d’affaires at Tokyo to warn Mutsu not to risk a military conﬂict.³⁴ O’Conor’s suggestions came too late; and he probably knew it, for both his ofﬁcial despatch and the private communication to Paget were sent by the slower diplomatic bag rather than by wire. At any rate, during that last week before the outbreak of war, the Foreign Ofﬁce had become increasingly convinced of the futility of any peace efforts, as Sanderson reﬂected: ‘I doubt whether there was from the beginning any chance of keeping the Japanese quiet. Everything points to the conclusion that from the ﬁrst they were determined to serve a striking success—and either to have things entirely their own way or to resort to hostilities.’³⁵ On the eve of war, Queen Victoria intervened in the discussions. In light of the mounting tension in Korea, she suggested a ‘joint demonstration by ourselves and Russia’.³⁶ Kimberley and Rosebery agreed that any intervention would have to involve Russia. The possible unilateral intervention by Russia was, in fact, the main reason for British restraint. Japan, Kimberley ruminated, was ‘bent on war’; and after the failure of all earlier mediation efforts intervention would have to be ‘armed mediation, and will really be directed against Japan’. Its success would largely depend on Russian cooperation. If successful, Britain and Russia would be jointly and permanently responsible for Korea. With the uneasy experience of Anglo-French cooperation in Egypt in the 1870s in mind, ³² Mins. Bertie and Kimberley, 27 July 1894, on tel. O’Conor (no. 57), 26 July 1894, FO 17/1204. ³³ O’Conor to Kimberley (no. 220, conﬁdential), 26 July 1894, FO 17/1195. ³⁴ O’Conor to Paget (private), 26 July 1894, Paget MSS, Add.MSS. 51252. ³⁵ Sanderson to Paget (private), 7 Sept. 1894, ibid. ³⁶ Tel. Victoria to Rosebery, 30 July 1894, LQV (3) ii, 617.

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this form of Anglo-Russian condominium, Kimberley warned, was a ‘disagreeable prospect’. It was better, therefore, to let the two belligerents ﬁght it out amongst themselves, provided no foreign power intervened.³⁷ Rosebery took the same view of ‘the Chinese-Japanese imbroglio’. Given Russia’s geographical propinquity she was better placed to take advantage of a condominium. He stressed the importance of a regional equilibrium: any move against Japan would ‘weaken and alienate a Power of great magnitude in those seas, and which is a bulwark against Russia’.³⁸ Rosebery and Kimberley did not anticipate the decisive victories which the Japanese forces were to achieve at sea and on land. Previous experience with Asian warfare suggested that the war would be slow. About a fortnight before Japan’s declaration of war, Kimberley had asked the Admiralty and War Ofﬁce intelligence divisions to assess the relative strength of the two sides. The naval balance of power was weighted ﬁrmly in favour of Japan, the Admiralty argued: ‘Notwithstanding the greater ﬁgures of the Chinese tonnage and guns, the Japanese organization, discipline, and training are so superior that Japan may reasonably be considered the stronger Power on the sea.’ The military intelligence branch came to a similar conclusion as regarded the relative strength of the two opposing armies on the Korean peninsular: ‘in every . . . respect, the Japanese army bears comparison with the Chinese much in the same way as the forces of nineteenth century civilization compare with those of mediaeval times.’ The ofﬁcers, however, warned that China might attempt to prolong the war for as long as was possible, either in the hope of wearing down Japanese resources and morale or to entice foreign powers to intervene.³⁹ This was no unreasonable assumption, and it was shared by many opinionformers in London. The Times conﬁdently prognosticated that China’s larger manpower reserves meant that ‘Japan may in the long run pay dearly for her earlier victories’.⁴⁰ This view was not conﬁned to Fleet Street. Sir Robert Hart, the Inspector-General of the Imperial Chinese Maritime Customs Service, was convinced that ‘[i]f the war lasts long enough we [viz. China] must win: Chinese grit, physique and numbers will beat Japanese dash, drill and leadership—the ³⁷ Kimberley to Rosebery (private), 30 July 1894, Rosebery MSS 10068; circular tel. Kimberley to Lascelles (no. 36), Malet (no. 33), Edwardes (no. 57), 1 Aug. 1894, FO 83/1320; see G. Martel, Imperial Diplomacy: Rosebery and the Failure of Foreign Policy (Kingston and Montreal, 1986), 216. ³⁸ Memo. Rosebery, 30 July 1894, Rosebery MSS 10134; tel. Rosebery to Queen Victoria, 30 July 1894, LQV (3) ii, 617; see K. Neilson, ‘Britain, Russia and the Sino-Japanese War’, The Sino-Japanese War of 1894–5 in Its International Dimension: STICERD Discussion Paper, no. 278 (1994), 2. ³⁹ Memo. Bridge, ‘Comparative Statement of the Chinese and Japanese Navies’, 16 July 1894, and ‘Memorandum on the Relative Values of the Armies of China and Japan’, 16 July 1894, FO 405/60/89 and 91. ⁴⁰ The Times (24 July 1894).

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Japs are at their best now, but we’ll improve every day!’ And according to The Times’s foreign editor Valentine Chirol, even O’Conor was certain that ‘in the end the Chinese anvil will wear out the Japanese hammer’.⁴¹ That, however, was certainly not O’Conor’s ofﬁcial assessment of the immediate prospects of the two belligerents. Shortly before the outbreak of hostilities he voiced his ‘serious apprehensions of the possible consequences of a sudden and strong aggression such as the Japanese now seem to contemplate’. China had a latent ‘capability to resist aggression which threatens an integral portion of her territory’, which was not to be underrated. Nevertheless, he warned that ‘the improvidence and lack of military knowledge which characterize the military and naval authorities of China will expose them to the danger of having their ﬂeet destroyed piecemeal’.⁴² Whatever their expectations of the outcome of the conﬂict, Kimberley and Rosebery agreed that British diplomacy had to remain passive until the fog of war had lifted. Britain’s ‘present “hand to mouth” policy would have to continue to be pursued’.⁴³ Ofﬁcially, Britain maintained strict neutrality; in practice, Kimberley’s policy was dominated by two considerations: not to alienate Japan; and to assure Giers that there would no unilateral British initiatives. The desire not to strain Anglo-Japanese relations was mutual. Following a naval incident involving the sinking of a British-owned vessel in Chinese waters, Mutsu and Kimberley poured oil on troubled waters, and Tokyo immediately volunteered to make full compensation. For his part, Kimberley was only too happy to kick the issue into the long grass of international law where it was unlikely to interfere with the conduct of practical politics.⁴⁴ This did not indicate a general softening in Britain’s attitude towards Japan, as was demonstrated by Kimberley’s handling of the second problem that arose as a result of the war: the neutralization of Shanghai and its approaches. The treaty port of Shanghai, the centre of Britain’s lucrative trade in the Yangtze Valley, was the location of a sizeable international commercial settlement but also housed a major Chinese arsenal. There was little doubt at the Foreign Ofﬁce that the Chinese would close the approaches to Shanghai in order to protect the ⁴¹ Quotes from Hart to Campbell, 5 Aug. 1894, IG ii, no. 938; and V. Chirol, Fifty Years in a Changing World (London, 1927), 181. Chirol’s close contact with O’Conor may explain his misleading statement that the British government had relied too much on China’s assumed latent resources, see idem, The Far Eastern Question (London, 1896), 3. ⁴² O’Conor to Kimberley (no. 220, conﬁdential), 26 July 1894, FO 17/1195. ⁴³ Hamilton diary, 5 Aug. 1894, EHD, 161. ⁴⁴ Min. Bertie, 25 Sept. 1894, Rosebery MSS 10134; Spencer to Rosebery, 10 Oct.(?) 1894, ibid. 10062; T. E. Holland, ‘International Law in the War between China and Japan’, FR lvi, 336 (Dec.1894), 917–18.

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arsenal, and so disrupt commercial trafﬁc. The shipping lanes, then, could only be kept open by way of extracting from the Japanese government ‘an undertaking that . . . they will abstain from warlike operations against Shanghai and its approaches’. Mutsu gave the requested guarantee, signiﬁcantly without attaching any conditions.⁴⁵ When, in August and September, he tried to revise that guarantee by adding the stipulation that the neutralization had to be mutually recognized by both belligerents, Kimberley remained ﬁrm. Despite the continued Chinese strengthening of the defences around the mouth of the Yangtze, Mutsu should be kept to his unconditional undertaking, F. H. Villiers of the Far Eastern department argued. Bertie concurred and advised Kimberley: ‘If we go back from this assurance we should certainly “lose face” with the Chinese, we shall let the Japanese vessels up the Yangtze river unless the Chinese block it.’⁴⁶ The ﬁrm line over Shanghai was not altogether without risk, since the port was not strongly fortiﬁed; and Japan ‘may attempt a coup de main by which we would be compelled to resort to hostile measures’.⁴⁷ As a means of deterrence British warships were hurried to the Far East. Admiral Sir Edward Fremantle, commander of the Royal Navy’s China Station, was instructed to take the necessary precautions in case the Japanese navy broke Mutsu’s undertaking. Fortunately for Kimberley, the main theatre of war was in the north, and Mutsu ultimately ceased to press the point.⁴⁸ Just as he tried to prevent any complications in relations with Japan, so Kimberley hoped to keep matters smooth with St Petersburg. Shortly after the outbreak of war, he assured Giers that Britain would not act unilaterally in the Korean question, and promised a full exchange of information on all matters connected with the current crisis.⁴⁹ Indeed, O’Conor was taken to task for not cooperating properly with Count Arthur Pavlovich Cassini, his Russian colleague, whom O’Conor suspected, not without foundation, of ‘working on lines directly hostile’ to British interests in China. Kimberley was anxious to maintain good relations with Russia, not least in order to minimize opportunities for unilateral Russian intervention. The desire for good relations seemed mutual as the newly arrived ambassador at St Petersburg, Sir Frank ⁴⁵ Notes Paget to Mutsu and vice versa, 23 July 1894, FO 46/436. ⁴⁶ Min. Villiers, 29 Sept. 1894, FO 17/1213; Bertie to Kimberley, 29 Sept. 1894, Kimberley MSS, MS.Eng.c.4380. ⁴⁷ Kimberley to Rosebery, 30 Sept. 1894, Rosebery MSS 10069. ⁴⁸ Spencer to Rosebery, 1 Oct. 1894, SpP ii, no. 685; also Morley diary, 4 Oct. 1894, Morley MSS. The notes are reprinted in DJ i, 155–9. ⁴⁹ Lascelles to Kimberley (no. 163), 23 July 1894, FO 65/1473; tel. Kimberley to Lascelles (no. 38), 2 Aug. 1894, FO 65/1474; Neilson, Last Tsar, 148.

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Lascelles, reported at the end of August.⁵⁰ Not everyone was equally satisﬁed with the current situation. Hart, his loyalties divided between China and Britain, complained about Britain’s passivity: ‘if England will not act (and by act I mean order the British Admiral to stop the Japanese from landing by force) [China] will accept Russia’s hand! [. . .] I don’t admire England’s China policy a bit—it has been of a lukewarm kind and valued, or undervalued, accordingly. If China goes to Russia—the fate of the East is changed!’⁵¹ With this in mind he telegraphed Kimberley urging some form of intervention to prevent a Japanese advance on Peking. Kimberley and Rosebery were by no means blind to the possibility of a Sino-Russian arrangement; nor did they trust Russia not to embark on independent diplomatic moves.⁵² But they had a clearer understanding of the naval and political constraints on British policy. By early October, Rosebery and Kimberley concluded that the time had come for another diplomatic initiative. Japan’s campaign on the Korean peninsula had made steady progress. On 9 October, an advance column established the ﬁrst bridgehead across the Yalu River on the Manchurian frontier. At the same time, preparations were made for an assault on the last remaining Chinese redoubt on the far side of the Gulf of Chi-li at Port Arthur. With a Japanese advance on Peking now a distinct possibility, Hart and O’Conor warned of spreading lawlessness in northern China; and Kimberley was concerned for the safety of the legations in the capital.⁵³ More importantly, he feared that, if the Japanese marched on Peking, or imposed harsh peace terms, ‘Russia would certainly make her voice heard with effect’.⁵⁴ Russian policy remained even more enigmatic than usual. Throughout the early months of the war, Giers had repeatedly stated that Britain and Russia ought to take the lead in any collective action by the Powers. That had been his position in his latest talks with Lascelles.⁵⁵ Nevertheless, Lascelles noted the Russian foreign minister’s apparent indifference to the outcome of the conﬂict. The ambassador speculated that Giers might be playing a waiting game, and ⁵⁰ Lascelles to Durand (private), 30 Aug. 1894, Lascelles MSS, FO 800/17; Lascelles to Kimberley (no.185), 29 Aug. 1894, FO 65/1473. ⁵¹ Hart to Campbell, 30 Sept. 1894, IG ii, no. 946. It would, of course, also have meant the end of Hart’s role as Inspector General at Peking. ⁵² Tel. Kimberley to O’Conor (no. 115), 5 Oct. 1894, FO 17/1203; Kimberley to Lascelles (private), 7 Aug. 1894, Lascelles MSS, FO 800/15. ⁵³ Tel. O’Conor to Kimberley (no. 85), 26 Sept. 1894, FO 17/1204; tel. vice versa (no. 115), 5 Oct. and min. Kimberley, 7 Oct. 1894, FO 17/1203; M. R. Davies, ‘A Threatened City: Some Impressions of Pekin’, FR lvi, 336 (Dec. 1894), 793. ⁵⁴ Kimberley to Rosebery (conﬁdential), 3 Oct. 1894, Rosebery MSS 10069. ⁵⁵ Lascelles to Kimberley (no. 185), 29 Aug. 1894, FO 65/1473; and tel. (no. 82), 4 Oct. 1894, FO 65/1474.

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would only make a move if Japan gained full control over Korea. Other rumours, then circulating in the Russian capital, suggested that Giers had already come to a secret agreement with the Japanese, and could thus await Japan’s ﬁnal victory with relative equanimity. Though Lascelles himself doubted the existence of such a secret understanding, he could not disprove it. Similar information was, in fact, reported to the Foreign Ofﬁce by other ambassadors at about the same time, kindling the traditional mistrust of Russian diplomacy.⁵⁶ Britain’s Far Eastern diplomacy now approached a ﬁrst crucial juncture, and three different, equally plausible political outcomes to the conﬂict now emerged. Following her defeat, as Hart repeatedly warned, China might now lean towards Russia as her preferred protector, and would pay whatever price Russia chose to demand for her services. On the other hand, if the rumours of a Russo-Japanese understanding were correct, Russia already had extracted her pound of ﬂesh in return for giving Japan a free hand in Korea. Either of these two outcomes would come at the expense of British interests, and would diminish Britain’s standing in East Asian affairs. Finally, if Hart’s and O’Conor’s ominous predictions were right, then the whole of northern China might collapse into anarchy, threatening the lives and properties of foreigners there. Humanitarian concerns apart, any revolt against the established Manchu order in China would also threaten European inﬂuence there. In such an event, military intervention by the Great Powers would be unavoidable, and Britain could not well keep aloof. While continued passivity was no longer a viable option, British diplomacy still had to pick its way warily. The Inspector-General at Peking was the ﬁrst to urge the British government to intervene in the war. Through a London friend, the former Liberal MP and Gladstone acolyte, Lord Rendel, he informed Rosebery that the ‘situation [was] most critical’, and that a ‘Russo-Chinese alliance [was] on the cards’, unless Britain took action. Rosebery declined to act on Hart’s suggestion of a naval demonstration in Chinese waters, as it would disrupt Japanese operations in Korea, and could be seen as a hostile act.⁵⁷ Alienating Tokyo was sure to drive Japan into the arms of Russia. Maintaining the strict inactivity of the previous months, by contrast, ran the risk of turning China towards Russia. China, after all, was ‘about our only natural ally’. Still, Rosebery judged it opportune to ⁵⁶ Lascelles to Kimberley (private), 10 Oct. 1894, Kimberley MSS, MS.Eng.c.4405; Trench to Kimberley (private), 23 Oct. 1894, ibid., MS.Eng.c.4396. ⁵⁷ Min. Rosebery, [2 Oct. 1894], on tel. Hart to Campbell, 30 Sept. 1894, and tel. Rosebery to Rendel, 2 Oct. 1894, Rosebery MSS 10134; see F. E. Hamer (ed.), The Personal Papers of Lord Rendel (London, 1931), 257–9.

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enquire at St Petersburg about Russia’s attitude in the event of a Japanese march on Peking.⁵⁸ An opening came in early October, when, through the unofﬁcial channel of Hart, London was informed that the Chinese authorities were ready to discuss peace, without suing for it, on the basis of a Great Power guarantee of Korea’s independence and neutrality. Probably in a coordinated move, O’Conor advocated a similar course of action on the same day. The war had now reached a stage when the European powers ought to offer their friendly ofﬁces to facilitate a settlement.⁵⁹ Rosebery needed no further convincing that ‘the position of affairs in China . . . is pretty bad’. As his private secretary noted, the reports alarmed Rosebery as to ‘what may happen if these ever-victorious Japs are allowed to pursue their career up to the gates of Peking which seems quite on the cards now’.⁶⁰ There was the additional incentive of retaining the diplomatic initiative, for Italy and France were consulting about measures to protect foreign nationals in northern China.⁶¹ Rosebery’s decision to act caused ructions with Kimberley. The Foreign Secretary had left London at the end of August, and refused to return to town to take charge of the mediation effort. Kimberley ‘had rigidly barred his gates against all his colleagues’. As for the premier, Kimberley recorded in his journal, he ‘is in a prodigious fuss about China & Japan, & has gone up to town to look after the proposed negotiation for peace. I do not believe in the necessity of hurry . . . These matters are not dependent upon a few hours more or less, and fussiness always impedes the real progress of business.’⁶² The day-to-day running of the Foreign Ofﬁce was left in the hands of Bertie, ‘whom R[osebery] considers to be the best man really there’.⁶³ The Prime Minister might have derided Kimberley’s as ‘rather the old fashioned view of ministerial duty and responsibility’, but it suited his purpose to arrogate to himself the business of the ofﬁce.⁶⁴ Rosebery’s proceedings were hardly secretive. A Cabinet meeting ⁵⁸ Min. Rosebery, [c. 16 Oct. 1894], Rosebery MSS 10134; tel. to Kimberley, 2 Oct. 1894, Rosebery MSS 10069; see tel. Rosebery to O’Conor (no. 7), 27 Jan. 1894, FO 17/1202. ⁵⁹ O’Conor to Kimberley (no. 365), 5 Oct. 1894, FO 17/1198; tel. Hart to Campbell, 5 Oct. 1894, and note Murray to Rosebery, 5 Oct. 1894, Rosebery MSS 10069. According to Rendel, Hart and O’Conor were ‘very good friends’, Rendel to Rosebery, 2 Oct. 1894, Rosebery MSS 10134. ⁶⁰ Murray to Harcourt, 3 Oct. 1894, Harcourt MSS, dep.57. ⁶¹ Tel. Blanc to Tornielli (no. 2336), 5 Oct. 1894, DDI (2) xxvi, no. 592. ⁶² Quotes from Murray to Rosebery, 1 Oct. 1894, Rosebery MSS 10143, and Kimberley journal, 8 Oct. 1894, KJ, 428. ⁶³ Hamilton diary, 2 Oct. 1894, EHD, 172. For the delays in Foreign Ofﬁce transactions during Kimberley’s absence see tel. Tornielli to Blanc (no. 2650), 5 Oct. 1894, DDI (2) xxvi, no. 597. ⁶⁴ Min. Rosebery on Kimberley’s MS Memoir, KJ, 503; and Rosebery to Sanderson (conﬁdential), 7 Oct. 1894, Rosebery MSS 10069; also Martel, Imperial Diplomacy, 219.

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was specially arranged for 3 October to discuss the affairs of China, at which Kimberley argued the case for action: ‘We are to tell France, Germany & Russia that we are apprehensive as to the position and safety of Europeans in China if the present disorder gets at all worse, and ask what means they propose to take. We ourselves in the meanwhile are sending such naval reinforcements as may be necessary.’⁶⁵ On the following day, Constantine Phipps, the chargé d’affaires at Paris, informed the Quai d’Orsay that Britain desired to initiate a collective action by the Powers.⁶⁶ On 5 October, the governments of France, Germany, Russia, the United States, and Italy were invited to intervene with Britain ‘on the basis of the independence of Corea to be guaranteed by the Powers and an indemnity to Japan for the expenses of the war’. At the same time, Trench was instructed to enquire at Tokyo if these conditions were acceptable as the basis of a peace settlement. The envisaged intervention was a purely diplomatic one; no other measures were considered.⁶⁷ The latest mediation effort followed the pattern of those during the summer. The Italian foreign minister accepted with an alacrity which belied Italy’s importance in this matter, whereas the United States government declined to take part in any collective action. The German government decided that intervention was ‘parfaitment prématurée’. Berlin was loath to act without any reliable indication as to Russia’s reaction. The Austrians followed suit, declining to participate in any diplomatic manoeuvre in the Far East.⁶⁸ Russia was now the key to any further movement in the matter. As Kimberley pointed out to the Prime Minister, ‘[i]f Russia & we agree & take the lead the others would probably follow’. Bertie concurred, but counselled against a British guarantee of Korea as part of the diplomatic settlement of the conﬂict, since it entailed a potential commitment against Russia.⁶⁹ The Quai d’Orsay, too, was relucant to commit itself prematurely. France would not act, unless in full accord with Russia; but Russian decision-making remained slow. Giers’s son and deputy signalled that France and Russia ought to coordinate their policies ‘in the event that Britain were to rush things’. Auguste Gérard, France’s minister at Peking, ⁶⁵ Murray to Harcourt, 4 Oct. 1894, Harcourt MSS, dep.57; Kimberley journal, 4 Oct. 1894, KJ, 428. ⁶⁶ Tel. Hanotaux to Vauvineux (no. 124), 6 Oct. 1894, DDF (1), xi, no. 239. ⁶⁷ Tels. Rosebery to Kimberley, and vice versa, both 6 Oct. 1894, Rosebery MSS 10069; note Malet to Marschall, 7 Oct. 1894, GP ix, no. 2215. ⁶⁸ Malet to Kimberley (no. 167, conﬁdential), 12 Oct. 1894, FO 64/1326; memo. Marschall, 9 Oct. 1894, GP ix, no. 2216; tel. Blanc to Lanza and Nigra (no. 2346), 7 Oct. 1894, DDI (2) xxvi, no. 607. ⁶⁹ Kimberley to Rosebery (private), 8 Oct. 1894, Rosebery MSS 10069; Bertie to Rosebery (private), 8 Oct. 1894, ibid. 10134.

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warned that any naval action would not be in either Russia’s or France’s interest as it would leave ‘le premier rôle’ to Britain, the dominant naval power in the region.⁷⁰ Once again, the success of British diplomacy depended on Russia. Lascelles obtained an interview with Giers at the Pevcheskii Most (or Choristers’ Bridge) on 17 October, by which time Peking had reiterated its willingness to accept an international guarantee of Korean independence and an indemnity to Japan as the conditions for peace talks. Lascelles was instructed to seek Russian cooperation in persuading Japan to accept the terms. It was an ‘olive leaf ’, as Hart mused, but not a whole branch since China would not sue for peace.⁷¹ Giers gave assurances of his personal inclination to accept the proposal, but pleaded that without the Tsar’s instructions he was unable to act. He explicitly ruled out any use of force, however. Quite clearly, the ever-cautious Giers would not commit himself until he had received a ﬁrm undertaking from the British government.⁷² For Kimberley the paralysis of Russian foreign policy produced an ‘unfortunate state of things for diplomacy’, but progress remained elusive. Indeed, on 24 October Lascelles was informed that Russia would not take part in the proposed mediation, and that the talks between the powers on this issue ought accordingly to be suspended.⁷³ Giers’s caution was one obstacle, Japan’s desire to prevent foreign intervention another. Mutsu, though acknowledging Britain’s friendly sentiments, stressed that the war had as yet produced no deﬁnitive military results. ‘[O]ur efforts to bring about peace’, Kimberley noted, had come to a halt. Indeed, he was ‘not displeased at . . . [the] breakdown of the negotiations’.⁷⁴ The Tsar’s death on 1 November stirred Russian diplomacy into action. Rattled by the Japanese advance, the ministers of the Tsungli Yamên announced on 3 November that China now desired a ceaseﬁre: Japan was to evacuate Manchuria, and in return China would recognize Korean independence, and agree to an indemnity for Japan. While Kimberley was reluctant to ⁷⁰ Quotes from tels. Vauvineux to Hanotaux (no. 112), 9 Oct. 1894, and Gérard to Hanotaux (no. 34), 9 Oct. 1894, DDF (1) xi, nos. 241–2, and 358, n. 1; Lascelles to Kimberley (private), 10 Oct. 1894, Kimberley MSS, MS.Eng.c.4380. ⁷¹ Hart to Campbell, 21 Oct. 1894, IG ii, no. 948; tel. Kimberley to Lascelles (no. 76), 16 Oct. 1894, FO 65/1474; and to Trench (no. 65), 19 Oct. 1894, FO 46/437. ⁷² Lascelles to Kimberley (no. 220), 17 Oct. 1894, FO 65/1473; and tel. (no. 93), 17 Oct. 1894, FO 65/1474. ⁷³ Lascelles to Kimberley (no. 222, conﬁdential), 21 Oct. 1894, FO 65/1473; Lascelles to Kimberley (private), 25 Oct. 1894, Lascelles MSS, FO 800/17; Neilson, Last Tsar, 150. ⁷⁴ Kimberley to Rosebery (private), 24 Oct. 1894, Rosebery MSS 10069; see memo. Mutsu, 15 Oct., and note Mutsu to Trench, 19 Oct. 1894, DJ i, 137–9.

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respond to the Chinese appeal, Giers did so immediately: Russia would join a collective diplomatic initiative by the Powers, but would not lead it. This was an astute move, for Giers was now better able to gauge the response by the Powers without having to commit himself to any but the vaguest action. Kimberley replied in kind. Still, by 9 November, with the approval of the Cabinet, Kimberley instructed Lascelles to propose to Giers a joint note conveying to the Japanese government the Chinese peace proposals.⁷⁵ The sudden movement in Russian diplomacy was a false start. Giers’s response to Kimberley’s proposal was dilatory, falling back onto his position of mid-October. The Germans were evidently hesitant, indifferent even, and the French would only join if all the Powers were unanimous. In light of these uncertainties Kimberley concluded that it would be inadvisable for Britain and Russia to act alone.⁷⁶ Giers’s decision to pull the brake brought the initiative to a halt. The Russian response was ‘not encouraging’; but as the Prime Minister observed: ‘we can do nothing, having done our best’.⁷⁷ It was a setback for Rosebery, who already in October had been criticized in the press for having acted precipitately. Indeed, France’s minister at Peking was in no doubt that the failure of the mediation effort was an ‘echec relatif ’ for Britain.⁷⁸ Britain’s Far Eastern diplomacy remained in suspense until early January 1895. A number of factors contributed to the latest deadlock. Changes in the leading personnel in all the major European capitals mitigated against active European diplomacy in the Far Eastern question. In Russia, the young and inexperienced Nicholas II had succeeded to the throne, while the cautious, but much underrated Giers lay on his deathbed. At Berlin, political life resumed only slowly after the autumnal chancellor crisis, while France was in the thralls of her latest ministerial crisis which, indeed, led to the fall of the Casimir–Périer ministry in January 1895.⁷⁹ Moreover, the Near Eastern Question sprang into view once again at the end of 1894. The Armenian atrocities laid bare the ﬁssures within the post-Gladstonian ⁷⁵ Kimberley to Rosebery (private), 4 Nov. 1894, Rosebery MSS 10069; note Tsungli Yamên to O’Conor, 3 Nov. 1894, FO 405/61/449; tel. Kimberley to Lascelles (no. 91), 9 Nov. 1894, FO 65/1474. ⁷⁶ Lascelles to Kimberley (no. 253, conﬁdential), 12 Nov. 1894, FO 65/1473; tel. Takahira to Mutsu (no. 15), 11 Nov. 1894, DJ i, 140. ⁷⁷ Kimberley to Rosebery, 11 Nov. 1894, and vice versa, 12 Nov. 1894, Kimberley MSS 10243; Neilson, Last Tsar, 150. ⁷⁸ Gérard to Hanotaux (no. 96), 23 Oct. 1894, DDF (1), xi, no. 255; see Hamilton diary, 24 Oct. 1894, EHD, 178. ⁷⁹ Tels. Dufferin to Kimberley (en clair and no. 8), 16 and 17 Jan. 1895, FO 27/3223; Gosselin to Kimberley (no. 186), 27 Oct. 1894, FO 64/1326; Staal to Giers, 11/23 Jan. 1894, SC ii, 258.

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Liberal cabinet. The internal disagreements hampered the Rosebery–Kimberley duo in its conduct of foreign policy, encouraging the now increasingly frequent forays into foreign affairs by the Chancellor of the Exchequer, the rumbustuous Sir William Vernon Harcourt: ‘It is fortunate that Russia is not (for the present at least) a disturbing factor. But we must walk very warily. We have never been so destitute of friends or “mal vus” by the Powers.’ Kimberley needed no such warning.⁸⁰ The rapid movement of events in the Far East itself also made for diplomatic caution. Emboldened by their military successes, and with the foreign Powers clearly not in accord, the Japanese position became more rigid. Already at the end of October, Aoki had given a strong private hint that Japan was now likely to demand Korean independence, with Japanese predominance replacing that of China. In addition to an indemnity, he intimated that Tokyo would also demand territorial gains, with Formosa the most likely target. Aoki’s private intimations bore a striking resemblance to Giers’s prognosis to Lascelles a few days earlier. This, coming after the recent rumours of a pre-existing RussoJapanese agreement, may well have served to heighten Kimberley’s suspicions of Russia as well as his wariness of further mediation initiatives, and so suggested an additional incentive for caution.⁸¹ Exaggerated reports about a Japanese surprise attack on the Chinese ﬂeet at Weihaiwei being foiled by the presence of British warships inﬂamed public opinion against Britain to a considerable degree, and made the Tokyo government even less amenable to British diplomatic pressure. Irrespective of China’s willingness to enter into peace negotiations, Trench was informed that Japan would not yield.⁸² China’s military response to the Japanese offensive in Manchuria was characterized by confusion compounded by half-measures. When, on 21 November, the Japanese captured Port Arthur, the war had taken an irreversible turn. The Chinese authorities decided to sue for peace, using the United States as an intermediary. Hopes of a breakthrough were short-lived. American involvement was half-hearted. Within days, Mutsu rejected the overture.⁸³ While the Japanese pursued a hard line towards Peking, they struck a more conciliatory note ⁸⁰ Harcourt to Kimberley and vice versa (private), both 16 Nov. 1894, Harcourt MSS, dep.51; Kimberley to Ripon, 17 Nov. 1894, Ripon MSS, Add.MSS. 43526. ⁸¹ Kimberley to Trench (no. 109, conﬁdential), 21 Oct. 1894, FO 46/434; Lascelles to Kimberley (no. 220), 17 Oct. 1894, FO 65/1473. ⁸² Tel. Trench to Kimberley (no. 79), 23 Oct. 1894, FO 46/434; Trench to Kimberley (nos. 151, 154, and 156), 23, 24, and 26 Oct. 1894, FO 46/438. ⁸³ Gresham to Dun (no. 66), 6 Nov., and note Mutsu to Dun, 26 Nov. 1894, FRUS 1894, 76 and 178; J. M. Dorwart, The Pigtail War: American Involvement in the Sino-Japanese War of 1894–5 (Amherst, Mass., 1975), 75–7.

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towards the Powers. Mutsu’s deputy, Viscount Hayashi Tadasu, assured Trench that Japan was sincere in her desire for peace. The Vice-Minister for Foreign Affairs developed a tactically prudent argument which combined realpolitik calculations with the profession of altruistic motivations. He reinforced his reassurances by highlighting Japan’s strategic self-interest: her military resources would be severely strained by any prolonged occupation of parts of the Chinese Empire, and Japan was therefore anxious to terminate the war. Nevertheless, Hayashi stressed that ‘the recent victories . . . [had] shown [Japan to be] fully entitled to the spoils of war to which she could lay claim’.⁸⁴ At this point British diplomacy took a decisive turn. Japan’s military strength, combined with ineffectual Chinese countermeasures, convinced Kimberley and Rosebery that it was not in Britain’s interest to obstruct the rising regional power. This implied a shift of policy away from Britain’s traditional support for China. Kimberley advised the Chinese to send a plenipotentiary to Japan to negotiate a peace settlement. Following her recent defeats, China’s position was now so critical that peace should not be postponed ‘for a question of form’; and he added re-assuringly, though perhaps not very convincingly, that ‘[i]t is the most convenient course and has been followed by the greatest European Powers without any loss of dignity’. Kimberley’s decision not to support China preﬁgured his and Rosebery’s choice between China and Japan as the preferred partner in the Far East.⁸⁵ Under these circumstances the Tsungli Yamên decided that there was no viable alternative but to accept Mutsu’s demand for a Chinese plenipotentiary to be appointed to commence negotiations. With no foreign support forthcoming, China had to do Japan’s bidding. At the end of January, two Chinese special envoys arrived in Hiroshima, where the peace talks were to take place.⁸⁶ The Great Powers now became active again. On 23 January, Lascelles was sounded as to whether Britain was prepared to join Russia in urging the two belligerents to conclude peace. Staal made an identical statement in London. Kimberley and Rosebery welcomed the Russian initiative. Russia continued to pose a serious dilemma for them. In refusing to support China during the latter’s efforts to arrange for peace talks with Japan, they took the conscious risk of driving China into the arms of Russia. Only by cooperating with Russia ⁸⁴ Trench to Kimberley (no. 189), 7 Dec. 1894, FO 46/438. ⁸⁵ Tel. Kimberley to O’Conor (no. 160), 9 Dec. 1894, FO 17/1203. Nish, Anglo-Japanese Alliance, 15–16, fails to appreciate the signiﬁcance of this early decision. ⁸⁶ Tel. O’Conor to Kimberley (no. 125), 18 Dec. 1894, FO 17/1204; Gérard to Hanotaux (no. 103), 5 Nov. 1894, DDF (1) xi, no. 270.

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could Britain attempt to exercise some inﬂuence over St Petersburg and Peking, and so prevent a Russo–Chinese combination.⁸⁷ The possibility of such an arrangement was never far from the minds of senior British diplomats. In early January, O’Conor reported that a Chinese ofﬁcial was on his way to St Petersburg, allegedly to arrange a secret alliance with Russia. He was convinced that so far no discussions had taken place between Russian representatives and senior Chinese dignitaries. A Russo–Chinese alliance, he argued, ‘would only recommend itself to the Chinese Government in the last extremity and upon the condition of its bearing immediate fruit by checking the aggression of Japan and putting a stop to the war . . . irrespective of the ulterior consequences to the country’.⁸⁸ The combination of innate mistrust of Russia and a deeply ingrained lack of conﬁdence in China’s leaders conﬁrmed Kimberley and Rosebery in their resolve to maintain good relations with the Russians. Indeed, throughout the autumn of 1894, Rosebery made noticeably friendly noises towards St Petersburg. In the Prime Minister’s annual speech at London’s Guildhall on 10 November, Rosebery had emphatically declared that ‘[i]f Russia and England can march with cordiality and without suspicion in Asiatic affairs, one great step towards the peace of the world will have been taken for ever’. Rosebery’s warm tribute to the late Tsar and the generally amicable tone in which he referred to Russia gave rise to rumours of an Anglo-Russian understanding.⁸⁹ Kimberley stoked such rumours by emphasizing the amicable nature of current relations with St Petersburg. Although he dismissed speculations about an agreement with Russia, and assured the French ambassador, Albert Decrais, that French interests would be respected, he stressed that the two Powers were working in accord in the Sino-Japanese conﬂict. The young Tsar displayed a tendency favourable towards ‘une bonne et loyale entente’ between Russia and Britain.⁹⁰ Although Russian ofﬁcials dampened speculations about a Russo-British détente in Asia—the friendly tone struck by British diplomacy was little more than ‘un ﬂirt’ which would not disrupt ‘un ménage bien uni’— the Quai d’Orsay reacted with characteristic nervousness to these rumours.⁹¹ ⁸⁷ Lascelles to Kimberley (no. 19, conﬁdential), 23 Jan. 1895, FO 65/1490; Rosebery to Lascelles (conﬁdential), 6 Jan. 1895, Lascelles MSS, FO 800/16. ⁸⁸ O’Conor to Kimberley (no. 12, conﬁdential), 10 Jan. 1895, FO 17/1232. ⁸⁹ The Times (11 Nov. 1894); see Shefﬁeld speech, 25 Oct. 1894, anon. (ed.), Lord Rosebery’s Speeches, 1874–1896 (London, 1896), 233–4. ⁹⁰ Tel. Decrais to Hanotaux (no. 186/7), 28 Nov. 1894, DDF (1) xi, no. 295; Kimberley journal, 28 Nov. 1894, KJ, 149. ⁹¹ Memo. Hanotaux (secret), 28 Nov. 1894; Montebello to Hanotaux (no. 132), 5 Dec. 1894; and Herbette to Hanotaux (no. 286), 11 Dec. 1894, DDF (1) xi, nos. 296, 306, and 311.

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If there was no appetite at St Petersburg for an arrangement with Britain that might weaken the cohesion of the recently concluded French alliance, the reaction to Rosebery’s public utterances in the autumn of 1894 had demonstrated the extent to which Britain’s policy in the Far East affected relations amongst the other Great Powers. Moreover, the response by the various Powers to an eventual Far Eastern peace now took shape. Britain and Russia would take the lead, with France in the tow of her new ally, and Germany waiting to act as the jackal of either Russia or an Anglo-Russian combination. The convergence of interests, which would result in the triple intervention in April 1895, had begun. Still, the deep suspicions of Russia which Kimberley and Rosebery entertained, were certainly mutual. Giers was driven by the conviction that it was imperative to prevent any unilateral British action.⁹² Gérard’s analysis of the political situation in the Far East was representative of the views of many European diplomatists. China’s defeat, he argued, represented a novel miscalculation for Britain, and marked thus a setback for British diplomacy. Consequently, in seeking a rapprochement with Russia, the government in London was now searching for ways of limiting the damage.⁹³ Just as the British favoured cooperation with Russia as a means to keep a check on her, so the Russians saw a joint initiative as the only means of preventing a major British offensive in the Far East. Mutual mistrust furnished the basis for cooperation. At the same time, London and St Petersburg had settled their differences concerning the frontier in the Pamirs, and there were now no manifest differences between the two governments.⁹⁴ A major, unilateral diplomatic initiative was the last thing Kimberley had in mind. He was full of forebodings as to the future of Far Eastern politics, and doubted Tokyo’s willingness to accept outside mediation. His main object was ‘to keep on the same line with Russia’. In this he reﬂected Rosebery’s analysis that ‘the importance of acting closely with Russia is . . . supreme’.⁹⁵ However anxious Kimberley and Rosebery were for a joint initiative with Russia, the circumstances once again did not allow for speed. The hiatus created by Giers’s death on 26 January was one factor, another was the deadlock in the Hiroshima peace talks. At their ﬁrst encounter, Prime Minister Itf Hirobumi and Mutsu refused to recognize the credentials of the special envoys, and on 2 February ⁹² Tel. Montebello to Hanotaux (no. 174), 28 Nov. 1894, ibid., no. 294. ⁹³ Gérard to Hanotaux (no. 134, conﬁdentiel ), 19 Dec. 1894, ibid., no. 320. ⁹⁴ Sanderson to Lascelles (private), 9 Jan. and 30 Mar. 1895, Lascelles MSS, FO 800/16; see Neilson, Last Tsar, 152. ⁹⁵ Quotes from Kimberley to Rosebery, 24 Jan. 1895, Rosebery MSS 10069; min. Rosebery, n.d., on tel. Kimberley to Trench (no. 3), 25 Jan. 1895, FO 46/455.

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broke off the conference. This was more than a dispute about the correct forms of diplomatic etiquette. Mutsu and Itf had apparently advance knowledge of the Chinese envoys’ faulty credentials, and were quick to exploit the situation publicly to humiliate Peking.⁹⁶ In so doing, they called into question before the world the good faith of the Chinese authorities, and forced them to send the Grand Secretary Li Hung-chang himself to treat with the Japanese. Meanwhile, the military balance in northern China tilted further in Japan’s favour, and the Tokyo government saw an advantage in delaying any pourparlers. Between them, the fall of Weihaiwei, the main naval base of the Chinese northern ﬂeet, and the humiliation of the Chang mission had reduced China to the position of a supplicant: ‘China is paralyzed—the western Powers are watching each other, half-afraid to move lest motion should bring on a general scrimmage and half-inclined to let things slide, cut in at the end, and divide the spoil—and Japan is developing her might and pushing on with growing plans, increasing ambition, and wonderful vigour.’⁹⁷ Hart’s assessment was only partially accurate, for European diplomacy had begun to move again. On 29 January, while the talks at Hiroshima were still hanging ﬁre, Count Pyotr Aleksevich Kapnist, the Director of the Asiatic Department of the Russian foreign ministry, raised the subject with Lascelles. In expressing his hope for ‘complete harmony on this subject’, he informed the ambassador that Khitrovo had been instructed to cooperate with Trench in urging upon the Japanese the idea of an early peace. A few days earlier, Kapnist had made a similar approach to the French Ambassador, to whom he developed the argument that the moment was opportune for some collective action on the part of the Powers.⁹⁸ Kapnist’s approach to Lascelles and Montebello was the result of a ministerial council, held at St Petersburg on 20 January, at which the Tsar’s ministers decided to seek an understanding with Britain and the other Powers to moderate Japan and maintain Korean independence. In the meantime, the Russian naval squadron in the Paciﬁc would be strengthened; and if the envisaged concerted action failed, Russia would have the option to pursue a different course.⁹⁹ Trench, Harmand, and Khitrovo accordingly made their separate but identical statements at Tokyo. Hayashi gave assurances that Japan had no intention ⁹⁶ The exchange of notes can be followed in DJ i, 186–94; Mutsu, Kenkenroku, 153 and 279, n.3. ⁹⁷ Hart to Campbell, 17 Feb. 1895, IG ii, no. 964. ⁹⁸ Lascelles to Kimberley (no. 29, conﬁdential), 29 Jan. 1895, FO 65/1490; Montebello to Hanotaux (no. 11), 25 Jan. 1895, and tel. vice versa (no. 16), 29 Jan. 1895, DDF (1) xi, nos. 352 and 355. ⁹⁹ For details, see Romanov, Russia in Manchuria, 50–1.

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of taking matters to extremes, and that she was sincere in her desire for peace negotiations to commence, but pleaded ignorance as to the current peace terms. Japan was in no hurry to yield up her advantageous position to the European Powers; but Mutsu was agitated by the idea of an Anglo-Russian accord, and reafﬁrmed that Japan had no intention of bringing about either the disintegration of China or the fall of the Manchu dynasty.¹⁰⁰ Kapnist once again approached Lascelles, this time with the suggestion that the two governments ought to exchange ideas as to a joint course of action. Kimberley welcomed the Russian initiative, but was averse to taking any risks. Even before the ﬁnal assault on Weihaiwei he feared that Japan ‘will be so intoxicated with success that she will be tempted to push China to extremities, regardless of ultimate consequences’.¹⁰¹ British policy had decidedly shifted against any support for China. Threats by the other Powers, Kimberley warned the new French Ambassador, Alphonse de Courcel, might give offence at Tokyo. If collective intervention failed, the prestige of the European Powers would be diminished, and the situation might escalate. Still, he agreed with Courcel’s suggestion that Britain, France, and Russia ought to continue the present exchange of views. Kimberley also repeated his acceptance of the Russian suggestion of ‘une ligne de conduite commmune’.¹⁰² He developed this argument further in an interview with Staal, but since the latter was in no position to commit his government to any course of action, further time was lost in waiting for Russian clariﬁcation.¹⁰³ Despite his evident desire to act in concert with Russia, Kimberley did not neglect to cultivate relations with the other Powers. That France would follow Russia’s lead, was not difﬁcult to fathom. The US government had repeatedly stated its intention to stay aloof. Germany, as prescribed by Foreign Minister Adolf Baron Marschall von Bieberstein, had kept a low proﬁle hitherto. But she also had signiﬁcant commercial interests in the Far East; and Kimberley now turned to Germany. In conversation with Paul Count von Hatzfeldt, Germany’s experienced Ambassador, Kimberley argued that Russia, supported by France, had encouraged an exchange of ideas about certain eventualities; and though not averse to this, he pointed out the difﬁculties ahead. The full ¹⁰⁰ Tel. Khitrovo to Staal (sécret), 3/15 Feb. 1895, SC i, 260; tel. Harmand to Hanotaux (no. 31), 1 Feb. 1895, DDF (1) xi, no. 357. ¹⁰¹ Kimberley to Trench (private), 25 Jan. 1895, Kimberley MSS, MS.Eng.c.4396; tel. Lascelles to Kimberley (no. 11), 2 Feb. and min. Kimberley, 3 Feb. 1895, FO 65/1494; Neilson, ‘Sino-Japanese War’, 5–6. ¹⁰² Courcel to Hanotaux (no. 25, conﬁdentiel ), 1 Feb. 1895, DDF (1) xi, no. 358. ¹⁰³ Min. Kimberley, 3 Feb. 1895, FO 65/1494; Staal to Chichkin (conﬁdentiel ), 25 Jan./6 Feb. 1895, SC, ii, 259.

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extent of Japan’s ambitions was still unclear. The envisaged exchange of ideas, therefore, might have to cover the problem of compensation for the European Powers in the event of territorial changes in the East. At the close of the interview Kimberley encouraged Berlin to give up its present reserve, and promised to keep the German government abreast of developments. Hatzfeldt, for his part, left the meeting convinced that Britain would not hamper, perhaps might even aid German attempts to obtain certain ‘advantages’.¹⁰⁴ Kimberley chafed at the inactivity enforced by the post-Alexandrine and post-Giersian transition period in Russian foreign policy and by Germany’s decision to continue her waiting game. Much of his immediate attention in January and early February had to be devoted to talks with Italy on the delimitation of respective spheres of inﬂuence in East Africa.¹⁰⁵ Staal, meanwhile, was advised not to let himself be involved in discussions of the actual course of the peace talks. Separately, the ambassador was told that St Petersburg shared Kimberley’s views as to the gravity of the situation: the Chinese Empire might conceivably collapse following its shock defeat; if Japan were to push on towards Peking the consequences would be incalculable. The Russian government understood ‘les perplexités et les hesitations de lord Kimberley’, but offered little more than a repetition of its earlier proposal of an exchange of ideas. Nevertheless, Staal was to intimate to Kimberley that Russia regarded the principle of Korean independence as a key objective of her policy.¹⁰⁶ In mid-February, Kimberley toyed with the idea of a joint Anglo-Russian initiative in support of an armistice proposal which the newly appointed Chinese chief negotiator, Li Hung-chang, was expected to make. This latest idea was overtaken by events. The Tsungli Yamên asked for Russian assistance in obtaining an armistice, only to be told that Russia would advise Japan to make peace, but would exert no pressure.¹⁰⁷ This, in turn, induced a subtle change in Kimberley’s attitude towards the ongoing conﬂict in Asia. From now on, he was to take a perceptibly more passive stance. This change was caused not only by the apparent unwillingness of the Russians to entertain anything more than mere advice to Japan to terminate the war. It was also a result of the ¹⁰⁴ Tel. Hatzfeldt to Marschall (no. 31, ganz geheim), 6 Feb. 1895, GP ix, no. 2223; tel. Herbette to Hanotaux (no. 12), 6 Feb. 1895, DDF (1), no. 363. ¹⁰⁵ Notes Kimberley to Rosebery, 8 and 26 Jan. 1895, Rosebery MSS 10069; tel. Silvestrelli to Blanc (riservatissimo personale), 28 Jan. 1895, DDI (2) xxvi, no. 888; see also R. Robinson and J. Gallagher (with A. Denny), Africa and the Victorians: The Ofﬁcial Mind of Imperialism (London, 2nd edn. 1981), 335–7. ¹⁰⁶ Chichkin to Staal (conﬁdentiel) and (très secrète), both 8 Feb. 1895, SC i, 260–2. ¹⁰⁷ Tel. Lascelles to Kimberley (no. 18), 23 Feb. 1895, FO 65/1494.

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British assessment of the situation in China. Already at the end of January, Kimberley had shown himself to be very pessimistic about the country’s shortterm prospects: ‘China is rotten to the core, as regards its governing class, but the Chinese are an industrious race, who may have a future.’¹⁰⁸ On the same day that Lascelles wired the news of Russia’s refusal to support Li Hung-chang’s armistice proposal, a lengthy despatch by O’Conor arrived by bag at the Foreign Ofﬁce. The minister at Peking struck a despondent note. The central authorities in China were ‘seriously frightened by the general disorganization of the whole military system’; but O’Conor doubted that the recent experience would bring about a fundamental change in the attitude of the ruling elite. Under its present regime, the Chinese Empire was incapable of systematic reform. None the less, O’Conor urged London not to change its China policy, and to support the Chinese so that ‘the latent strength of the Empire’ could be developed. Senior Chinese ofﬁcials had great conﬁdence in Britain, and were grateful for her protection of Shanghai. This, however, did not preclude the possibility of the Chinese government following an antiBritish course at some stage in the future. China had now reached a crucial juncture ‘when it becomes a matter of vital importance to us to know whether China is going to break in pieces, or whether it is still possible to vitalize and restore the inanimate body, and to instil into it sufﬁcient force for its own protection’. O’Conor himself was ﬁrmly convinced that China possessed sufﬁcient ‘latent strength’ to avoid disintegration or partition. But he had admitted that the Chinese Empire was ‘incapable under the present regime of development in accordance with modern ideas and the necessities of the surrounding situation’. The solution lay in British support for a programme of ‘reorganization of [China’s] military and naval defences, in the construction of railways, and the development of her ﬁscal and administrative systems, &c.’ In return, Britain should be given ‘a guarantee . . . of China’s earnestness of purpose’.¹⁰⁹ In a follow-up private letter, O’Conor expanded on his despatch. Russia was fearful of a Japanese advance through Manchuria, and the recent increases in Russia’s Far Eastern ﬂeet indicated that she was preparing herself for all eventualities. ‘The French will follow the Russians here as in Europe & their attitude is one of pitiable servility.’ As for Germany, O’Conor noted that she was content for the moment with ‘money-making’, but was anxious to secure Chinese orders for new battleships. Moreover, he warned that the ‘German ¹⁰⁸ Kimberley to Durand (private), 29 Jan. 1895, Kimberley MSS, MS.Eng.c.4388. ¹⁰⁹ O’Conor to Kimberley (no. 6, conﬁdential), 7 Jan. 1895, FO 17/1232.

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minister evidently thinks a “leetle island” would be a good thing & if a game of “grab” follows the war they will not be behindhand.’ Shortly afterwards, he warned Sanderson that ‘there must be a change, & a pretty radical one if China is to exist. [. . .] If the Central Government once breaks down . . . we may have the headless China, & all its attendant dangers.’¹¹⁰ O’Conor’s despatch of 7 January triggered a policy debate in Whitehall. Sanderson suggested that little could be done until the dust had settled on the battleﬁelds. Kimberley agreed: ‘That is all we can now do.’ Foreign Secretary and Prime Minister were in agreement, but Rosebery noted that O’Conor should be given leave to make the suggested communication, though not while peace talks were in progress: ‘But we ought not to run the risk of losing such an opening—for which the Germans will make a savage struggle.’¹¹¹ The combination of perceived Russian dilatoriness, an aversion to alienating Japan, and a profound pessimism as to China’s immediate future paralysed British policy during the ﬁnal phase of the Sino-Japanese conﬂict. At Peking O’Conor encouraged the Chinese not to break off the peace negotiations. Privately, he was pessimistic about China’s prospects. If the war continued, he warned the Viceroy of India, China ‘will fall into a state of semianarchy’, though he was not yet prepared to admit ‘that in future China is a “negligéable quantité” ’.¹¹² Despite his pro-Chinese leanings, the minister was careful not to allow himself to become entangled in Chinese efforts to embroil the foreign powers in the last phase of the Sino-Japanese conﬂict. When Li Hung-chang sought O’Conor’s advice and enquired whether British support would be forthcoming in the event of a Japanese demand for the cession of mainland Chinese territory, O’Conor decided that such an enquiry was premature. When Li then somewhat dramatically produced the draft of a secret alliance treaty between China and Britain, O’Conor remained unmoved. Li suggested that Britain ought to negotiate with Japan on China’s behalf, ‘or in other words undertake to stop the war and save China from any loss of territory’. In return, Peking would cede to Britain for a speciﬁed term of years the administration of China ‘with the exclusive right of reorganizing and controlling the military and naval departments, constructing railways, working mining concessions, and opening several new ports to our trade and commerce’. O’Conor ¹¹⁰ Quotes from O’Conor to Kimberley (private), 7 Jan. 1895, Kimberley MSS, MS.Eng.c.4396; O’Conor to Sanderson (private), 21 Jan. 1895 (copy), Rosebery MSS 10135. ¹¹¹ Mins. Sanderson, Kimberley, and Rosebery, 26, 27 Feb., and 24 Mar. 1895, FO 17/1232. ¹¹² O’Conor to Elgin (private), 30 Mar. 1895, Elgin MSS, MSS.Eur. F84/25; see O’Conor to Kimberley (no. 65), 20 Feb. 1895, FO 17/1233.

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ignored the offer, which he knew was made without the knowledge of the Tsungli Yamên, and merely urged Li speedily to open negotiations with the Japanese. O’Conor had no doubt that Li ‘offered somewhat similar baits to the Russian and French ministers’.¹¹³ Kimberley had resigned himself to await the outcome of the negotiations which were to take place at Shimonoseki. On 23 February, he called on Courcel, and in the course of their discussions showed himself preoccupied with the likely Japanese peace terms. Russia, he thought, was watchful of developments in Korea and Manchuria, whereas Britain’s main concern was with commercial questions and the future of the open ports in China. Kimberley warned that Japan must not be allowed to obtain exclusive rights in China, and to treat her as a vassal state. He was convinced that the Japanese would demand the cession of Formosa. The possession of that island by a Power with a considerable naval force at its disposal ‘did not make him smile, but he acknowledged very openly that England did not think of opposing it’. He hinted, however, that the Western Powers would have to increase their naval presence in the China seas as a countermeasure.¹¹⁴ In so far as Russia was concerned, Kimberley continued his efforts to maintain the semblance of a concerted policy. Thus, when Staal ﬁnally enquired whether Britain, like Russia, attached great importance to Korean independence, the Foreign Secretary was happy to give that assurance.¹¹⁵ While the Powers awaited the commencement of the peace talks, AngloRussian exchanges about the possible course of these talks were something of a ‘sparring’ match. On 6 March, Staal returned to the Foreign Ofﬁce. Kimberley highlighted the signiﬁcance of commercial interests for Britain, and conﬁrmed that the Rosebery government would not oppose the cession of Formosa to Japan. In the course of their conversation, Staal formed the distinct impression that Kimberley feared a Sino-Japanese alliance after the war. Such a rapprochement would be detrimental to Britain’s commercial interests. The Japanese minister, Staal was told, had assured Kimberley that ‘Japan had no intention whatsoever of destroying the Celestial Empire; she wished, on the contrary, to lift it up again. But it is precisely this role of a . . . benevolent tutor which is not agreeable to England. I do not think it would be advantageous for our ¹¹³ O’Conor to Kimberley (no. 66, conﬁdential), 24 Feb., and (no. 82, conﬁdential), 14 Mar. 1895, FO 17/1233; see Bardi to Blanc (no. 28/24), 5 Mar. 1895, DDI (2) xxvi, no. 963. ¹¹⁴ Tel. Courcel to Hanotaux (no. 14), 23 Feb. 1895, DDF (1) xi, no. 376; tel. Kimberley to Dufferin (no. 8), and Lascelles (no. 11), 8 Mar. 1895, FO 27/3223. ¹¹⁵ Lascelles to Kimberley (no. 54A), 27 Feb. 1895, FO 65/1489.

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[i.e. Russia’s] interests.’¹¹⁶ Other foreign diplomats, as Courcel observed, also picked up signals of heightened British sensitivity on the subject of the impending peace talks. The French ambassador sensed that the events in the Far East had ushered in a new era in international politics which would affect all powers: England, amongst the Powers of old Europe, is certainly the best prepared to play her part in the substitution of a new intercontinental and interoceanic equilibrium for the more limited equilibrium in which she has been one of the principal factors for two centuries. One may be certain that she will defend herself not with less energy. But it is clear that her general policy . . . is destined to undergo a transformation about the full range of which we should not deceive ourselves.¹¹⁷

Kimberley’s efforts to move in line with Russia were reciprocated by the new Russian foreign minister, Prince Aleksis Borisovich Lobanov-Rostovskii, who instructed Staal to continue the conﬁdential exchanges so as to keep a check on Britain’s interests and moves in the Far East.¹¹⁸ For the moment, their mutual mistrust continued to propel Britain and Russia along the same path. After the ﬁrst round of the Shimonoseki talks Lobanov stretched out another feeler to London. Tokujir¯f Nishi, the Japanese minister at St Petersburg, had hinted that Japan would demand the cession of one of the peninsulas on the Gulf of Chili. Japan’s expansion onto the Chinese mainland, Lobanov argued, would leave the Chinese capital vulnerable to Japanese pressure.¹¹⁹ Kimberley adhered to his established position. Whilst not approving of Japanese acquisitions on the mainland, he attached greater importance to obtaining a settlement. It was premature to discuss territorial questions, he informed Courcel. Instead, he concentrated his efforts on winning French and Russian support for joint representations at Tokyo to force Japan to divulge her peace terms.¹²⁰ The Shimonoseki talks made good progress. At the height of the negotiations, however, on 24 March, Li Hung-chang was attacked and wounded by a Japanese mob. No doubt with a view to rumours of a possible foreign intervention, Itf and his Foreign Minister seized on the incident to retreat from Japan’s strong position and somewhat reduced their terms. Four days later, an ¹¹⁶ Staal to Chichkin (secrète), 22 Feb./6 Mar.1895, SC ii, 263–4. For the ‘sparring’ between Britain and Russia, see Neilson, Last Tsar, 152. ¹¹⁷ Courcel to Hanotaux (no. 68), 5 Mar. 1895, DDF (1) xi, no. 395. ¹¹⁸ Lobanov to Staal (conﬁdentiel), 2[/15] Mar. 1895, SC ii, 264. ¹¹⁹ Tel. Lascelles to Kimberley (no. 26), 21 Mar. 1895, FO 65/1494. ¹²⁰ Kimberley to Rosebery, 22 Mar. 1895, Rosebery MSS 10069; tel. Hanotaux to Montebello (no. 51), 28 Mar. 1895, DDF (1) xi, no. 410; tel. Tschirschky to Marschall (no. 60), 25 Mar. 1895, GP ix, no. 2229.

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unconditional ceaseﬁre was declared by the Japanese Emperor. On 1 April, Li was presented with the Japanese demands for Korean independence, the cession of Formosa, the Pescadores, the Liao-tung peninsula, the opening of further treaty ports combined with commercial rights and privileges for Japan, and a war indemnity of 300 million Kuping taels (c. £50 million).¹²¹ The terms were soon known, for Li Hung-chang was careful to keep the foreign Powers informed. If he had failed to entice the Europeans to intervene before the start of the Shimonoseki talks, he had clearly not given up hope that an intervention could be arranged before he was forced to sign the treaty. On 1 April, the Chinese minister informed Kimberley that Japan was certain to demand the cession of Formosa. The latter stuck to his now oft-repeated line: Britain did not welcome the cession, but the Cabinet had decided not to oppose it.¹²² Kimberley would wait until the terms were fully known. To counteract Li’s stratagem, the Japanese also briefed the Powers on the peace terms. As the ﬁrst news of the Japanese demands ﬁltered out of Shimonoseki, Staal ruminated on Kimberley’s professed impartiality. British interests, the ambassador argued, dictated that Britain would have to side with Peking, and could not tolerate any future Japanese control over the Chinese Empire.¹²³ Lobanov may well have come to a similar conclusion, but proceeded cautiously. Russia’s position evolved slowly during the second week of April. On 4 April, Lobanov confessed his relief that the Japanese ‘terms were not heavier than might have been expected’, but thought that the acquisition of Port Arthur ‘was a more serious question’. A day later, he repeated that Japan’s establishment on the Liao-tung peninsula ‘would be a standing menace to Peking, and would compromise the independence of Corea’. The Russian foreign minister quite clearly had not decided on his response to Japan’s demands. Much would evidently depend on the other Powers. Still, Lobanov hinted that the Russian naval squadron in the China seas was about equal in size to Japan’s. By 8 April Lobanov had made up his mind. He informed Lascelles that any Japanese territorial acquisition ‘would be distasteful to Russia’, lest Japanese controlled areas on the Asian mainland became coterminous with Russia’s Far Eastern provinces. Lobanov afﬁrmed St Petersburg’s ¹²¹ Protocol of Fourth Meeting, 1 Apr. 1895, DJ i, 216–22. The Germans had warned Japan of a possible intervention in March, and the New York Herald (erroneously) reported the conclusion of an Anglo-German-Russian Far Eastern agreement, see tel. Marschall to Gutschmid (no. 6), 6 Mar. 1895, GP ix, no. 2226. ¹²² Tel. Courcel to Hanotaux (no. 31), 1 Apr. 1895, DDF (1) xi, no. 422. ¹²³ Staal to Lobanov (conﬁdentiel), 22 Mar./3 Apr.1895, SC ii, 265–6.

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resolve ‘to prevent the proposed acquisition [of the Liaotung peninsula], which would render illusory the independence of Corea’.¹²⁴ In the interview of 5 April Lascelles had suggested ‘that it would be unwise to make an enemy of a Power which was obtaining a preponderant position in the Far East’. That view was shared by some politicians in London. Indeed, Rosebery and Kimberley increasingly had to conduct foreign policy with an eye to their Cabinet colleagues. Their attempts to create a consensus only resulted in divisions. Conﬂict between the Cobdenite Radical wing of the Liberal party and Rosebery’s supporters was never far from the surface; and the frosty relations between the Prime Minister and his Chancellor exacerbated the existing tensions. At the root of the strains between the insomniac Rosebery and the ebullient Harcourt lay a mixture of frustrated personal ambitions and ideological differences. Indeed, the two leading Liberals were barely on speaking terms.¹²⁵ Whereas in domestic politics Harcourt tended to argue in strongly partisan terms from an essentially moderate position, in foreign policy he leaned towards a ‘Little Englander’ position; but this did not ameliorate his belligerence. The Chancellor also seized on foreign policy questions as a means to advance his own personal interests, inundating Kimberley with missives criticizing aspects of the current course in foreign policy and demands to be consulted. It was one thing for Kimberley to describe Harcourt’s epistles as ‘ill-tempered ignorant rigmaroles’; he still had to placate the Chancellor, for the latter certainly had the ability to bring down the government.¹²⁶ At the end of March a fresh opportunity presented itself to Harcourt to reassert his declining inﬂuence on foreign affairs. On 28 March, following instructions by Kimberley, Grey had delivered a strongly worded warning to France not to encroach upon Britain’s sphere of interest along the Upper Nile valley.¹²⁷ The speech ‘made a great stir’, and Harcourt seized upon it in order to ¹²⁴ Quotes from Lascelles to Kimberley (no. 88), 9 Apr. 1895, FO 65/1490; and tel. (no. 36), 8 Apr. 1895, FO 65/1494. ¹²⁵ Harcourt called Rosebery ‘a rogue and a liar’, Morley diary, 1 June 1894, Morley MSS (uncatalogued); Kimberley to Rosebery (private & conﬁdential), 19 Feb. 1895, Rosebery MSS 10069; A. G. Gardiner, The Life of Sir William Harcourt (2 vols., London, 1923) ii, 258–79; K.O. Morgan, ‘John Morley and the Crisis of Liberalism in 1894’, NLWJ xv, 4 (1968), 454–8; D. A. Hamer, Liberal Politics in the Age of Gladstone and Rosebery: A Study in Leadership and Policy (Oxford, 1972), 204–6. ¹²⁶ Kimberley journal, 7 Dec. 1894, KJ, 429; Kimberley to Harcourt (private), 7 Dec. 1894, Harcourt MSS, dep.51. ¹²⁷ Kimberley to Rosebery (private), 29 Mar. 1895, Rosebery MSS 10069; PD (4) xxxii (1895), esp. cols. 405–6; see Robinson and Gallagher, Africa and the Victorians, 337–8.

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regain some control over the framing of foreign policy.¹²⁸ This placed Rosebery and Kimberley in a difﬁcult position. The Chancellor had more support on the Liberal backbenches than in Cabinet, where few thought him well-informed in matters of foreign policy.¹²⁹ Still, there was a danger of the government sinking below the Plimsoll line under the weight of Harcourt’s offended dignity. Yet, if the Chancellor was appeased too much, control of foreign policy might slip out of Rosebery’s and Kimberley’s hands.¹³⁰ Kimberley acted as an intermediary between the Chancellor and Rosebery, who had ceased to meet except during Cabinet meetings. His ‘short and conciliatory answer[s]’ failed to placate Harcourt sufﬁciently.¹³¹ In response Harcourt widened his attack, and launched an all-out assault on the general line of foreign policy. With the sterile excitement over Grey’s statement now subsiding, Harcourt turned his mind to a number of ‘those bugbears constantly cooked up in the F[oreign] O[fﬁce]’. He stuck to a rigidly Cobdenite line: ‘I trust . . . that we shall not meddle in this matter in which we have only a very indirect concern—though I know that we meddle everywhere, particularly where we have no concern.’ The Foreign Ofﬁce’s objection to the cession of the Liao-tung peninsula was a case in point: ‘Is there no pie in the world out of which we can manage to keep our ﬁngers?’ Much of Harcourt’s criticism of Rosebery’s and Kimberley’s ‘imperial diplomacy’ was phrased in a manner more suited to platform oratory than to reasoned discussion at Cabinet. Still, in conclusion, Harcourt made the not unreasonable point that ‘it would be especially foolish on our part to take leading action hostile to Japan, the rising Power in the East—and allow Russia to pose as her friend’. Britain ought not to act in concert with Russia or any other Power, Harcourt urged: ‘The true strength of our position is one of absolute neutrality.’¹³² Later, while Harcourt and Kimberley were still wrangling over their ‘understanding’, the Chancellor threatened to resign. Rosebery feared that Harcourt ¹²⁸ Kimberley journal, 28 Mar. 1895, KJ, 434; Harcourt to Kimberley, 29, 30, 31 Mar., and 3 Apr. 1895, Kimberley MSS, MS.Eng.c.4378; see P. Stansky, Ambitions and Strategies: The Struggle for the Leadership of the Liberal Party in the 1890s (Oxford, 1964), 122–4. ¹²⁹ Meade to Ripon, 26 Dec. 1894, Ripon MSS, Add.MSS.43558. ¹³⁰ Kimberley journal, 30 Mar. and 1 Apr. 1895, KJ, 435; Kimberley to Rosebery, 1 Apr. 1895, Rosebery MSS 10070; Morley diary, 14 Apr. 1895, Morley MSS; see D. A. Hamer, John Morley: Liberal Intellectual in Politics (Oxford, 1968), 302–5. ¹³¹ Kimberley to Rosebery and vice versa (most conﬁdential), 29 Mar. and 2 Apr. 1895, Rosebery MSS 10070; Rosebery to Queen Victoria, 31 Mar. 1895, LQV (3) ii, 491–2. On Kimberley’s role as go-between, see Gardiner, Harcourt ii, 336–7. ¹³² Kimberley to Harcourt, 5 Apr. 1895, Kimberley MSS, MS.Eng.c. 4378; Gardiner, Harcourt, ii, 338.

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might make pronouncements on foreign policy without prior consultation: ‘there is a deepseated and radical difference between Harcourt and myself on questions of foreign policy. His view is broadly that in questions between Great Britain and foreign countries, foreign countries alone are in the right and Great Britain always in the wrong.’ Were Harcourt to speak his own mind, ‘he might bring about the instant disruption or fall of the government’.¹³³ Kimberley continued his efforts to placate the Chancellor. But even his patience was wearing thin: ‘Harcourt practically insists upon playing the part of joint Prime Minister.’ His letter on the affairs of the Far East, he complained, ‘displays in its worst form his combined ignorance and arrogance in relation to foreign affairs’. Worse, Harcourt’s antics had caused a deadlock in foreign policy, at a time when most of Britain’s external problems ‘require[d] ﬁrm handling’. This, Kimberley warned, could only lead to ‘more drifting’.¹³⁴ The Foreign Secretary was not prepared to compromise with Harcourt; and yet, given the latter’s ability to disrupt government business, Kimberley had to assure Harcourt that he had ‘not said a word that can commit us in any way’.¹³⁵ Rosebery sought to stiffen Kimberley’s resolve. The government’s position with regard to foreign policy, he concurred, was ‘almost intolerable’. He himself favoured ‘an efﬁcient foreign policy’, which Harcourt opposed. There could be no compromise: ‘we are approaching the parting of the ways because I cannot compromise on these vital matters.’¹³⁶ A Cabinet meeting scheduled for 8 April would have to settle British policy in Asia. While Kimberley had to fend off Harcourt’s border raids on Foreign Ofﬁce territory, international diplomacy had not stood still. Kimberley continued to keep his options open. On 3 April, he discussed the Japanese peace terms with Hatzfeldt. The cession of Port Arthur, he informed him, was tantamount to a Japanese protectorate over China, and might hasten the latter’s collapse. He hinted that both Russia and France would like to see a further weakening of China, and left Hatzfeldt with the strong impression that Britain was likely to join in mild pressure on Japan to retrocede the Liao-tung peninsula, but that she would not act unless Russia acted also.¹³⁷ These views were shared by Lobanov, who regarded Japan’s acquisition of Port Arthur as ‘a perpetual ¹³³ Quotes from Rosebery to Kimberley (conﬁdential), 6 Apr. 1895, Kimberley MSS 10243 (also KP, no. 229); Kimberley to Harcourt, 5 Apr., and vice versa, 5 Apr. 1895 (8 p.m.), Harcourt MSS, dep.52. ¹³⁴ Kimberley to Rosebery (conﬁdential), 6 Apr. 1895, Rosebery MSS 10070; Stansky, Ambitions and Strategies, 124–5. ¹³⁵ Kimberley to Harcourt, 6 Apr. 1895, Harcourt MSS, dep.52. ¹³⁶ Rosebery to Kimberley (secret), 7 Apr. 1895, Kimberley MSS 10243. ¹³⁷ Kimberley to Malet (no. 103), 3 Apr. 1895, FO 64/1349; tel. Hatzfeldt to Marschall (no. 70), 4 Apr. 1895, GP ix, no. 2234.

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menace to China’. When he enquired of Lascelles whether Britain would join in an international intervention, the ambassador hinted that this was not likely.¹³⁸ Kimberley was careful to avoid ‘expressing any deﬁnite opinion’. In doing so he gave conﬂicting signals to foreign diplomats. Staal and Hatzfeldt separately lobbied him on 6 April to agree to joint intervention. Neither could elicit from Kimberley a clear statement of intent. The Foreign Secretary reacted coolly to Hatzfeldt’s suggestion that some form of intervention was now inevitable. The threat to Peking implicit in Japan’s establishment at Port Arthur could easily be parried by moving the capital elsewhere; alternatively, Japan might be persuaded not to extend her annexation beyond the Liao-tung peninsula itself. Hatzfeldt doubted the practicality of this idea; and so may have Kimberley. The latter conceded that British interests were concentrated at Shanghai and the Yangtze valley, and left Hatzfeldt with the strong impression that his passive stance was caused by his desire to avoid offending either of the two belligerents.¹³⁹ There was no straightforward solution to Kimberley’s dilemma. Urging Japan not to annex the Liao-tung peninsula, or at least to limit any annexation to its southernmost tip, did not seem practicable. Should Japan reject Britain’s advice, the situation might escalate into a fully ﬂedged military conﬂict. This was not desirable either. Strict non-intervention, on the other hand, would reduce China to the status of a vassal state; or, if Peking refused the terms, ‘we may have a break-up of the Chinese dynasty and disorganization of the Chinese Empire’. Kimberley inclined towards non-intervention ‘as presenting the least objections’, but accepted that the Cabinet would have to decide between these two equally unpalatable options. Rosebery reinforced Kimberley’s preference for abstention: ‘We cannot go to war with Japan unless she directly and immediately threatens British interests.’ This still left the proper method to be decided.¹⁴⁰ While the Cabinet debated the Far Eastern situation on 8 April, Lobanov proposed to the other Powers a joint démarche, counselling moderation on Japan and urging her not to insist on demands for territorial concessions on the mainland. It would, he explained to Lascelles, ‘be distasteful to Russia that ¹³⁸ Tel. Lascelles to Kimberley (no. 35), 5 Apr. 1895, FO 65/1494; tel. Vauvineux to Hanotaux (no. 54), 6 Apr. 1895, DDF (1) xi, no. 436. ¹³⁹ Staal to Lobanov (no. 13), 5/17 Apr. 1895, SC ii, 266–7; Kimberley to Rosebery (private), 6 Apr. 1895, Rosebery MSS 10070; tel. Hatzfeldt to Marschall (no. 73), 6 Apr. 1895, GP ix, no. 2236. ¹⁴⁰ Kimberley to Rosebery (private) and vice versa, both 6 Apr. 1895, Rosebery MSS 10070; Neilson, Last Tsar, 154.

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Japan should make any territorial acquisitions’. Russia feared that Japan would extend her territory, and so become coterminous with her; and she would certainly attempt to prevent the proposed acquisition, ‘which would render illusory the independence of Corea’.¹⁴¹ Lascelles’s telegraphic report did not arrive in London until after that day’s Cabinet, at which the ministers decided against intervention.¹⁴² It was the decision Harcourt had wished for, but it was Kimberley’s dilemma, not the Chancellor’s ill-tempered bullying tactics, that had produced it. Hatzfeldt was the ﬁrst foreign representative to learn of the Cabinet decision. The Prime Minister himself explained to him that British interests were not sufﬁciently affected by the Japanese demands to justify intervention, which he feared could only be successful if the use of armed force were threatened. Nevertheless, Rosebery hinted that the decision was not ﬁnal: should Russia entertain the idea of armed intervention, the matter would have to be reconsidered. He agreed with Hatzfeldt that the Powers interested in the Far East were now thinking of their own territorial acquisitions, but denied that Britain had any ambitions in that direction: ‘England already possessed more than she could digest, and he viewed such an acquisition [viz. of the Chusan Islands] as not desirable.’¹⁴³ When Staal called on Kimberley to suggest that the Powers ought, ‘in the most friendly manner’, dissuade Japan from annexing territory on the mainland, he found Kimberley’s reaction ‘le plus froid’.¹⁴⁴ To the Russian foreign minister Britain’s decision came as an unpleasant surprise. Lascelles also warned that the refusal to interfere ‘may encourage the Japanese to persist in their demands’. Indeed, the Chinese minister at London informed Sanderson that the Japanese peace terms were excessive as regarded the indemnity, and that the demanded ‘territorial concessions [were] too extensive’.¹⁴⁵ The British decision not to intervene triggered intensive diplomatic lobbying efforts by the other Powers. The Staal–Hatzfeldt duo returned on the following day to impress upon Kimberley the fact that French and German support for Russia’s intervention proposal had ‘created a new situation’. ¹⁴¹ Tel. Lascelles to Kimberley (no. 36), 8 Apr. 1895, FO 65/1494; tel. Vauvineux to Hanotaux (no. 54), 6 Apr. 1895, DDF (1) xi, no. 436; tel. Marschall to Tschirschky (no. 45), 8 Apr. 1895, GP ix, no. 2237. ¹⁴² Tels. Kimberley to Lascelles (no. 45), Dufferin (no. 17), and Gosselin (no. 8), 8 Apr. 1895, FO 64/1352. ¹⁴³ Tel. Hatzfeldt to Marschall (no. 74), 8 Apr. 1895, GP ix, no. 2239. ¹⁴⁴ Tel. Kimberley to Lascelles (no. 46, secret), 8 Apr. 1895, FO 65/1493. For Staal’s comment see tel. Courcel to Hanotaux (no. 39), 9 Apr. 1895, DDF (1) xi, no. 438. ¹⁴⁵ Quotes from Lascelles to Kimberley (no. 89, secret and conﬁdential), 10 Apr. 1895, FO 65/1490; min. Sanderson, 9 Apr. 1895, Rosebery MSS 10134.

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Kimberley resisted their pressure, but warned Rosebery of the possible wider repercussions on non-intervention: ‘our separation from Russia would have an effect on our relations in Europe.’¹⁴⁶ The German foreign minister suggested that the Shimonoseki terms would establish ‘a virtual predominance of Japan over all the coastal provinces’, while Hatzfeldt argued the ‘want of union between the Powers’ brought with it the risk of China’s partition.¹⁴⁷ At St Petersburg, Kapnist and Lobanov warned that Britain’s aloofness was liable to encourage Japanese recalcitrance and ambitions; Japan’s retention of Port Arthur after the war would constitute a danger to the peace of East Asia.¹⁴⁸ Lascelles suspected less altruistic motivations behind Russian concerns about the future of China and Korea. Japan’s permanent establishment at Port Arthur, he reasoned, would almost certainly put a stop to Russia’s desire to acquire a strategically vital ice-free port in these regions for herself. Should Japan refuse adequate compensation, then Russia was bound to resort to military force. Moreover, there was always the nagging doubt in Lascelles’s mind that Russia might already have come to an agreement with Japan, compensating Russia for Japanese gains with a port on the east coast of Korea.¹⁴⁹ French diplomats joined the Russo-German efforts to induce Kimberley to change his position. Courcel impressed upon him that Germany’s likely adhesion to the Russian initiative had created a new international situation; and stressed ‘the importance of our decision as being a “parting of the ways” ’. Kimberley, though admitting the danger of Britain becoming separated from the other Powers, insisted that Britain’s interests prescribed her policy. Not for the ﬁrst time, Kimberley argued that commercial considerations—the opening of the whole of China to foreign trade—had been crucial to the decision.¹⁵⁰ The French Ambassador returned to the charge on the following day, although he, along with Staal and Hatzfeldt, had come to the conclusion that the Cabinet decision of 8 April was irrevocable. He sought to persuade Kimberley of the dangers inherent in ‘une politique séparée’ by appealing to Britain’s regional and wider strategic interests: to talk of commercial advantages was ¹⁴⁶ Kimberley to Rosebery, 9 Apr. 1895, Rosebery MSS 10070; also tel. Courcel to Hanotaux (no. 41), 10 Apr. 1895, DDF (1) xi, no. 441. ¹⁴⁷ Quotes from Gosselin to Kimberley (no. 85, conﬁdential), 9 Apr. 1895, FO 64/1350; and min. Sanderson, 15 Apr. 1895, Rosebery MSS 10134. ¹⁴⁸ Lascelles to Kimberley (no. 91), 10 Apr. 1895, FO 65/1490; see tel. Lanza to Blanc (no. 702), 10 Apr. 1895, DDI (2) xxvii, no. 21. ¹⁴⁹ Lascelles to Sanderson (private), 11 Apr. 1895, Lascelles MSS, FO 800/17; and to Kimberley (no. 89, secret and conﬁdential), 10 Apr. 1895, FO 65/1490. ¹⁵⁰ Kimberley to Rosebery, 9 Apr. 1895, Rosebery MSS 10070; tel. Courcel to Hanotaux (no. 41), 10 Apr. 1895, DDF (1) xi, no. 441.

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illusory in the face of Japan’s political and military preponderance in the region. Japan was an ambitious Power that would easily dominate coastal China between Formosa and Port Arthur. Courcel held out the prospect of improved relations between Paris and London, and played upon the idea that there was a natural community of interests between Britain, France, and Russia. Kimberley was unmoved. The friendship of victorious Japan was as important as that of vanquished China, the Foreign Secretary explained. But he agreed that international politics in the Far East had arrived at a turning point. Courcel’s argument was a skilful attempt to entice Kimberley into cooperating with France and Russia by holding out the promise of a speedy resolution of outstanding disputes in Africa and Siam as well as by appealing to Britain’s interests in China. Still, at the bottom of the French desire to bring Britain into the Franco-Russian fold in the Far East was the fear that Germany’s adhesion to the Russian intervention proposal reduced France’s alliance value for Russia.¹⁵¹ Britain’s support for joint action would have counteracted this; and this consideration was too clearly discernible for Kimberley to accept the offered linkage between Far Eastern and African problems. That Hanotaux offered this linkage underlined the global rather than regional signiﬁcance of the China Question. Relations with Japan remained a problem. Japan, ‘warlike, ambitious, and intoxicated with victory will not restrain [her] demands except under compulsion’; and this entailed the risk of military escalation. However much value Kimberley and Rosebery attached to continued cooperation with Russia, they were not prepared to purchase it at the price of a confrontation with Japan.¹⁵² Their discussions in mid-April were a rationalization of their earlier decision to re-orientate British policy in favour of Japan. This was not rooted in timidity; it was informed by a realistic assumption of the constraints placed upon British power. Furthermore, Kimberley and Rosebery were not convinced that Russia was able to take serious measures in Asia. Sir John Ardagh, the head of the Military Intelligence Division, advised that ‘the Russians are quite unprepared to ﬁght the Japanese on land’. They were in no position ‘to deal a crushing blow alone’.¹⁵³ Loud diplomatic talk, as proposed by Lobanov, backed by only small sticks, merely increased the risk of a failure to deter Japan. ¹⁵¹ Courcel to Hanotaux (no. 103, conﬁdentiel ), 10 Apr. 1895, DDF (1) xi, no. 443; Holstein to Hatzfeldt, 9 and 13 Apr. 1895, HatzP ii, nos. 637–8. ¹⁵² Rosebery to Kimberley, 10 Apr. 1895, Rosebery MSS 10070. ¹⁵³ Sanderson to Rosebery (private), 11 Apr. 1895, Rosebery MSS 10134.

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Britain’s stance raised speculation among the other Powers. After his interview with Kimberley, Courcel reported that the foreign diplomatists in London, most notably Staal, were perplexed by the apparent complete turn-around in British foreign policy. Indeed, Courcel found Kimberley ‘very nervous and ill-tempered on account of England’s complete isolation’.¹⁵⁴ There was some truth in this. Staal’s gloomy prognostication of ‘a very unfavourable effect on the “entente” generally with Russia’ did not leave Kimberley unaffected. Rosebery also was ‘vexed’ by Lobanov’s displeasure, but was convinced that intervention ‘will do more harm than good’. However, mindful of the wider strategic threat posed by Russia, Rosebery argued that relations with her had to be handled with great circumspection. He was anxious not to sever the wire to St Petersburg: ‘we must remember Armenia & Central Asia even in the Far East’. Rosebery and Kimberley decided to make a special attempt to mollify the Russians.¹⁵⁵ Staal was invited back to Downing Street to meet Rosebery, who expressed his regret at the apparent divisions between Britain and Russia over China, but reiterated that it would be a futile exercise since Japan was likely to rebuff the intervention. He also fell back on that convenient argument that public opinion would not allow his government to participate in coercing Japan. He assured Staal that he ‘attach[ed] the greatest importance to our joint action, & would willingly prove my sense of it if a practicable opportunity offered itself ’, and expressed his hope that the ‘partial dissensus shall not undermine in the long run our entente, which forms . . . the pivot of his policy in the Far East’.¹⁵⁶ Rosebery’s anxiety not to let the Far Eastern crisis disrupt relations with Russia was understandable. Much more was at stake than the future of Korea or the balance of power in East Asia. Closer to Britain’s vital strategy interests in the Mediterranean, the settlement of the Armenian crisis depended entirely, as the ambassador at Constantinople, Sir Philip Currie, warned, ‘on the maintenance of the joint action of England and Russia’.¹⁵⁷ In abstaining from the proposed intervention in the Korean conﬂict, Rosebery ran the risk of undermining cooperative efforts with Russia in the Near East. The premier was increasingly fearful of a possible escalation of the Far Eastern situation. ¹⁵⁴ Tel. Tschirschky to Marschall (no. 86), 20 Apr. 1895, GP ix, no. 2247. ¹⁵⁵ Kimberley to Rosebery, 10 Apr. 1895, and vice versa (secret), 11 Apr. 1895, Rosebery MSS 10070; note Rosebery to Kimberley, 10 Apr. 1895, Kimberley MSS 10243. ¹⁵⁶ Rosebery to Lascelles (private), 13 Apr. 1895, Lascelles MSS, FO 800/16; Staal to Lobanov (conﬁdentiel ), 5/17 Apr. 1895, SC ii, 269. ¹⁵⁷ Currie to Kimberley (private), 18 Apr. 1895, Kimberley MSS, MS.Eng.c.4398; Neilson, Last Tsar, 161–5.

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On 16 April, The Times carried news of a sixth demand which the Japanese had introduced into the Shimonoseki talks, and which prohibited international arbitration as a means of resolving future disputes between China and Japan over the peace treaty. Rosebery warned that this ‘practically means that Japan intends to establish a protectorate over the Chinese empire, and this may possibly imply the disappearance of the present dynasty in China’. Russia was not likely to accept this, though Britain could ‘for the moment . . . regard [it] with equanimity’. Still, he warned that the effective subjugation of China by Japan would produce profound long-term consequences, with the former’s resources being harnessed to Japan’s ambitions. Rosebery regarded the sixth article ‘as the most important piece of news that has reached us for many years past’, creating a ‘crisis of extreme gravity’. The Western powers would seek redress in the form of material guarantees: We may indeed be on the brink of a partition of China of this kind. We may, on the other hand, be on the verge of a war between Japan and several of the Western Powers which would equally be followed by partition. Our attitude must for the moment be passive, but we must be prepared for the gravest emergencies. It is a little hard to have two Eastern Questions on our hands at the same time. We and our forefathers have hitherto been satisﬁed with one, and sufﬁciently alarmed with that. But this new one is not less grave, and of even vaster dimensions.¹⁵⁸

The situation escalated further when, on 17 April, it transpired that Itf and Mutsu had forced Li Hung-chang to sign the peace treaty in its present form. In light of these developments Rosebery was anxious to restore ‘common action’ with Russia by demanding that Tokyo furnish the Powers with the full text of the proposed peace treaty.¹⁵⁹ To complicate matters further for Kimberley, British diplomacy at Tokyo was hampered after Trench suffered an apoplectic stroke. The Legation Secretary, Gerard Lowther, underestimated the likelihood of Russian or European intervention. The day after the signature of the Treaty of Shimonoseki he opined that ‘[t]hroughout the negotiations the Japanese Gov[ernmen]t have all along struck me as being very desirous of avoiding anything which might give rise to any interference on the part of the Powers and in this they seem to have succeeded’.¹⁶⁰ ¹⁵⁸ Rosebery to Sanderson (secret), 16 Apr. 1895, Sanderson MSS, FO 800/1; The Times (16 Apr. 1895). ¹⁵⁹ Rosebery to Kimberley (conﬁdential), 17 Apr. 1895, Rosebery MSS 10070; Nish, AngloJapanese Alliance, 28–30; see DJ i, 256–60 and 263–71. ¹⁶⁰ Lowther to Kimberley (private), 18 Apr. 1895, Kimberley MSS, MS.Eng.c.4396. On Trench’s stroke see Lowther to Wodehouse (private), 8 Mar. 1895, ibid.

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Certainly, the Japanese had contrived to steal a march on the other Powers; and, given Britain’s stated intention not to interfere, everything now depended on Russia’s reaction. If Rosebery and Kimberley had reasons to be concerned about Japanese intransigence, they soon had ample grounds for similar concerns regarding Russia. On 18 April, Count Gustav Kálnoky, the Austro-Hungarian foreign minister, spoke to Sir Edmund Monson, the British Ambassador at Vienna, about the situation in the Far East. Though AustriaHungary was not herself interested in East Asia, her diplomats closely monitored the general trend of Russian foreign policy. And since Vienna was still tied to London through the Mediterranean agreements of 1887, the Ballhausplatz had developed the habit of frequently imparting useful information to British diplomats. Kálnoky told Monson that the Russians had been caught completely unawares by the speed of developments during the SinoJapanese conﬂict. Accustomed to the slow Asian way of warfare, they had remained passive in the expectation that an opportunity would present itself of demanding the cession to Russia of an ice-free port in northern China or Korea: ‘The Russian Government now see that they have been outwitted by the Japanese, who have been sharp enough to seize the right moment, and thus anticipate any concerted action on the part of the European Powers.’¹⁶¹ In a follow-up private letter, Monson elaborated on some of the points raised by Kálnoky. Relations between Russia and the European Powers would change in the aftermath of the war: ‘Russia would very much cease to be an European Power; and in becoming almost purely an Asiatic one would be fulﬁlling her manifest destiny.’ For Britain, Russia’s turning East would not only bring with it increased Russian activity in China. The concomitant necessity for Russia to be able speedily to mobilize her armed forces was bound to rekindle Russian attempts to gain greater inﬂuence over Persia or to open the Turkish Straits.¹⁶² The Russian reaction to Li’s involuntary signature of the peace treaty was rapid. On 19 April, Lobanov once again invited the British government to join France, Germany, and Russia in urging Japan to retrocede the Liaotung peninsula. Lobanov had, in fact, already decided that intervention ought to go beyond diplomatic entreaties, if Japan rebuffed the Russian-led initiative. In that event, he ‘envisaged a joint warlike operation at sea against Japan’, with the immediate object of isolating the Japanese forces in Korea—an operation ¹⁶¹ Monson to Kimberley (no. 119, most conﬁdential), 18 Apr. 1895, FO 7/1214. ¹⁶² Monson to Kimberley (private), 19 Apr. 1895, Kimberley MSS, MS.Eng.c.4407.

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which the Germans were quite prepared to join.¹⁶³ In his conversations with Lascelles, Lobanov was much more guarded, impressing on him that Japan would yield up Port Arthur in the face of the Powers acting in unison, thus increasing the diplomatic pressure on London further. Moreover, as anticipated by Lascelles, the Tsar’s minister argued that Britain’s abstention would merely encourage Japanese recalcitrance and so complicate the Asian situation further. Staal made similar representations in London. This latest invitation was a test of Rosebery’s private assurances to Staal on 13 April. Nevertheless, Staal made little progress with Kimberley, who doubted that mere advice would be sufﬁcient to force Japan to modify her demands.¹⁶⁴ Lowther at Tokyo reinforced the foreign secretary’s qualms: ‘[A] communication which took merely the form of a warning, and which did not imply that any intervention would follow . . . would . . . have no effect on Japan.’ Public opinion, but also many members of Japan’s ruling classes, Lowther argued, remained wedded to the idea that China had to be humiliated by a harsh peace treaty; and that that treaty ‘must include a very substantial guarantee that China will be at the feet of Japan for years to come’. Lowther warned that Japan would resist the armed intervention of Russia alone, but might yield to a combination of Powers.¹⁶⁵ Kimberley was hoping to gain time, and rebuffed the representations by Hatzfeldt and Staal by pointing to public opinion which was strongly proJapanese. Hatzfeldt noted that Kimberley was clearly aware of the fact that his refusal to participate in the collective intervention would strain relations with St Petersburg. The Foreign Secretary also acknowledged that deteriorating Anglo-Russian relations would work to France’s advantage, increasing her leverage over Britain in the outstanding African and other colonial disputes.¹⁶⁶ Events in the Far East threatened to disrupt British foreign policy on a number of fronts. Strict non-interference in the stand-off ran the risk of alienating China as well as Russia and the other European Powers. But it also risked offending Japan if the latter were to come under intense pressure from them. Rosebery’s anxieties had grown considerably in the course of the week following the publication of the sixth Japanese demand. By this time, Rosebery had ¹⁶³ Tel. Lascelles to Kimberley (no. 43), 19 Apr. 1895, FO 65/1494; tel. Tschirschky to Marschall (no. 81), 17 Apr. 1895, GP ix, no. 2243; tel. Lanza to Blanc (no. 760), 18 Apr. 1895, DDI (2) xxvii, no. 36. ¹⁶⁴ Lascelles to Kimberley (no. 107, conﬁdential), 22 Apr. 1895, FO 65/1490; Staal to Lobanov (conﬁdentiel ), 10/22 Apr. 1895, SC ii, 269–70; see Neilson, Last Tsar, 158. ¹⁶⁵ Lowther to Kimberley (no. 130, secret), 21 Apr. 1895, FO 46/456. ¹⁶⁶ Tel. Hatzfeldt to Marschall (no. 99), 22 Apr. 1895, GP ix, no. 2248; Gosselin to Kimberley (no. 90, conﬁdential), 20 Apr. 1895, FO 64/1350.

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assumed control over foreign policy. In a lengthy assessment of the international situation, the Prime Minister admitted that relations with Russia and Germany had already deteriorated: ‘both . . . are disgusted with us for not pulling their Chinese chestnuts out of the ﬁre’. The ill-will which Britain had incurred as a result of her Chinese pyrophobia might lead the other Powers to reciprocate by disrupting the international administration of Egyptian ﬁnances. The simultaneous eruption of crises in the Near East in Armenia and the Far East suggested to Rosebery that safety was not to be found in hasty diplomatic activity: The world is in a very parlous condition. . . . But above and beyond this [i.e. the Near Eastern question] there is an inﬁnitely larger Eastern question upon us at this moment in the situation developed by the peace between China and Japan. That is a situation which it is difﬁcult to judge . . . But one thing is clear: it is really anxious; it is pregnant with possibilities of a disastrous kind; and it might, indeed, result in an Armaggedon between the European Powers struggling for the ruins of the Chinese Empire. . . . We must not scatter ourselves; we must embark on nothing unnecessary; we must be ready at any moment to place our full force in one or both of the regions affected by the Eastern questions.¹⁶⁷

Rosebery’s preference for consolidation in anticipation of possible future external complications coalesced with the aversion of men like Harcourt and Morley to an interventionist foreign policy. In consequence, on 23 April the Cabinet reafﬁrmed its decision to maintain strict neutrality in the Far East.¹⁶⁸ Kimberley and Rosebery had decided, as Courcel rightly surmised, to maintain ‘une attitude expectant’.¹⁶⁹ Lobanov embarked on another effort to bring Britain back into the fold. He was nettled by ‘la défection . . . du Gouvernement britannique’. He did not believe in a secret Anglo-Japanese agreement. But, taking Kimberley’s repeated references to Britain’s commercial interests at face value, he feared that British public opinion had been seduced by the promised advantages for European trade seemingly promised by the Japanese. Russia, by contrast, would not be swayed by such considerations. Her geostrategic position made it imperative ¹⁶⁷ Rosebery to Cromer (secret), 22 Apr. 1895, Cromer MSS, FO 633/7; Martel, Imperial Diplomacy, 243. ¹⁶⁸ Queen Victoria to Kimberley, 27 Apr. 1895, Kimberley MSS, MS.Eng.c.4373 (also in LQV (3) ii, 497–8). The stand-off in East Asia does not seem have featured prominently on the agenda of the assembled ministers, who were pre-occupied with Commons business, see Hamilton diary, 23 Apr. 1895, EHD, 242. ¹⁶⁹ Tel. Kimberley to Lascelles (no. 57), 23 Apr. 1895, FO 65/1493; tel. Courcel to Hanotaux (no. 60), 23 Apr. 1895, DDF (1) xi, no. 477; tel. Hatzfeldt to Holstein (private), 23 Apr. 1895, GP ix, no. 2249.

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for her to prevent Japan from establishing herself on mainland Asia. Once established there, the Japanese were in a position to menace both the projected Trans-Siberian railway line as well as other Russian outlets along the Paciﬁc coast. The Tsar’s government, therefore, was determined to maintain the status quo ante bellum on the Chinese mainland. Britain, then, had to be persuaded to join the collective action lest the other three Powers found themselves faced with the necessity of having to take recourse to military force.¹⁷⁰ In a last minute effort, Lobanov and Staal enquired ‘whether the British Government would join in the diplomatic communication if it were distinctly understood that they would not take any further action; this understanding would, however, necessarily have to be kept secret from Japan’. Kimberley declined the proposal, again citing as the main reason the likelihood of its being rebuffed by the Japanese. Lobanov made one further effort to persuade the British government, but to no avail.¹⁷¹ Meanwhile, on 23 April, the ministers of Russia, France, and Germany delivered three separate, though identical notes verbales to Hayashi at the Japanese foreign ministry, conveying the ‘friendly advice’ to retrocede the Liao-tung territory to China. The triple intervention caught the Japanese leaders unprepared. Its effect, as Lowther noted, was ‘alarming’. Still, he thought that ‘serious people in Japan have more respect for us than for other Powers, and I hope we may reap the reward of not joining in what I think is an ill-timed protest’.¹⁷² Kimberley’s attitude towards the Japanese was circumspect. After his interview with Lobanov on 24 April, Lascelles had privately suggested to the Foreign Secretary that he advise Tokyo to surrender its claims to Liao-tung territory; ‘that war with Russia would be inevitable if they persist in their demands’.¹⁷³ Lascelles’s advice effectively meant pulling Russia’s Chinese chestnuts out of the ﬁre for her. This Kimberley was not prepared to do. At the same time he realized that the crisis caused by the triple intervention could be exploited to Britain’s advantage, without giving offence to the parties involved. ¹⁷⁰ Lobanov to Staal (très conﬁdentiel), 12/24 Apr. 1895, SC ii, 270–1. On Khitrovo’s (and Harmand’s) suspicions of a secret Anglo-Japanese understanding, see Lowther to Wodehouse (private), 9 May 1895, Kimberley MSS, MS.Eng.c.4396. ¹⁷¹ Tels. Lascelles to Kimberley (no. 47), 24 Apr. 1895, FO 65/1494, and vice versa (no. 63), 25 Apr. 1895, FO 65/1493; and despatch Lascelles to Kimberley (no. 116, conﬁdential), 25 Apr. 1895, FO 65/1490. ¹⁷² Lowther to Kimberley (private), 26 Apr. 1895, Kimberley MSS, MS.Eng.c.4396; Lowther to Kimberley (nos. 132 and 133, most conﬁdential), both 24 Apr. 1895, FO 46/456; see also DJ i, 293–4. ¹⁷³ Tel. Lascelles to Kimberley (no. 47), 24 Apr. 1895, FO 65/1494; Lascelles to Rosebery (private), 24 Apr. 1895, Rosebery MSS 10134.

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Thus, when on 24 April the new Japanese minister at London, Count Katf Takaaki, discussed the triple intervention, he seized the moment. Having impressed upon Katf the gravity of the new situation, Kimberley made his pitch: Britain had no intention of depriving Japan of ‘reasonable fruits of her victories, although they would have much preferred no disturbance of the status quo’.¹⁷⁴ Sub rosa Kimberley warned the Japanese not to escalate the situation, and to agree to the restoration of the status quo ante on the Chinese mainland. Neither Kimberley nor Rosebery were prepared to go further. There could be no interference; London would continue to observe ‘a benevolent neutrality’.¹⁷⁵ Itf and Mutsu decided to delay any ofﬁcial reply to the triplice. At the same time the Japanese foreign minister embarked on an abortive diplomatic offensive to divide the triplice and to gain the active support of the United States and Italy. Key to the success or failure of these efforts, however, was Britain. When Katf returned to the Foreign Ofﬁce on 29 April to establish whether Britain was prepared to support Japan, Kimberley stressed Britain’s neutrality, but privately advised Katf that no humiliation was involved in yielding to the triplice. On the assumption that doing good quietly was unlikely to produce any advantages, Kimberley made sure that Lobanov was kept informed of his informal counsel of moderation to the Japanese.¹⁷⁶ Bereft of British support, and with the United States remaining neutral, Itf and Mutsu ran out of options. Only Italy was willing to support Japan, though only if she was certain of acting in concert with Britain. On 29 April, at an Imperial Council meeting, it was decided to give way to the triple intervention and agree to the modiﬁcation of the peace treaty. Over the next few days there followed a series of diplomatic rear-guard actions, but by 4 May Japan agreed to vacate the whole of the Liao-tung peninsula.¹⁷⁷ Superﬁcially, Rosebery and Kimberley could be satisﬁed with the outcome of the crisis. Relations with both belligerents remained largely unaffected. Indeed, British diplomacy had successfully balanced the various Powers interested in China. At closer inspection the picture looked somewhat more complex. From Peking, O’Conor wrote that despite efforts by the Russian, ¹⁷⁴ Kimberley to Trench (no. 35, conﬁdential), 24 Apr. 1895, FO 46/449; tel. Katf to Mutsu, 24 Apr. 1895, DJ i, 342–3. ¹⁷⁵ Rosebery to Kimberley (conﬁdential), 28 Apr. 1895, Rosebery MSS 10070. ¹⁷⁶ Kimberley to Trench, 29 Apr. 1895, FO 46/449; Lascelles to Kimberley (no. 120, conﬁdential), 7 May 1895, FO 65/1491; Neilson, Last Tsar, 159. ¹⁷⁷ Tel. Malet to Kimberley (no. 8), 5 May 1895, FO 64/1352; tel. Tornielli to Blanc (no. 829), 2 May 1895, DDI (2) xxvii, no. 81; Nish, Anglo-Japanese Alliance, 33–5.

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French, and German ministers in the Chinese capital ‘to magnify the signal service rendered to China by the three Powers’ in expelling Japan from the Liao-tung peninsula, the Chinese government realized that the triplice was not motivated by entirely altruistic considerations. There was no ill-feeling towards Britain at the Tsungli Yamên, and the intervention had produced little more than a transitory situation. A Russo-Japanese clash over Korea, however, O’Conor thought inevitable in the long run: ‘I do not see however why we should help Russia to draw her chestnuts out of the ﬁre, though we should not pretend to keep her from gaining access to an open port.’ Ultimately, Russia aimed at establishing a protectorate over Manchuria, or even annexing it outright.¹⁷⁸ Kimberley shared O’Conor’s forebodings of a Korean war between Russia and Japan. He told Trench’s chosen successor as minister at Tokyo, Sir Ernest Satow, that he regarded Japan as ‘our natural ally, as against Russia’. He also feared that Russia would challenge Japan’s position in Korea ‘so that strife may yet arise from that’.¹⁷⁹ In a private letter to Capt. Alfred Cavendish, the military attaché at Peking, he elaborated the point: ‘[Japan] will no doubt have a powerful ﬂeet, but that will be a counterpoise to the Russians & so far a distinct advantage to us. Our policy must be to make her our ally.’ Kimberley’s rather loose phrasing of Japan as ‘our natural ally’ should not be exaggerated. As his Parliamentary Under-Secretary recorded in his memoirs, ‘British Ministers at the time did not look beyond the moment’, and did not envisage the later alliance between the two countries.¹⁸⁰ Relations with France were largely untouched by the triple intervention. British diplomats had long come to regard France as a form of appendage to Russia in Asiatic affairs. As for Germany, her adhesion to the Russian initiative was seen as motivated by a ‘general policy [which] is the most cynically selﬁsh that has ever been adopted by any nation’.¹⁸¹ At any rate, Germany’s action was less motivated by Far Eastern interests, ‘but because it would consolidate the Franco-Russian alliance, which hitherto has been academic and sentimental, and consequently harmless’.¹⁸² ¹⁷⁸ O’Conor to Bertie (private), 23 May 1895 (copy), FO 17/1235. ¹⁷⁹ Satow diary, 31 May 1895, Satow MSS, PRO 30/33/16/1. ¹⁸⁰ Quotes from Kimberley to Cavendish, 30 May 1895, Kimberley MSS, MS.Eng.c.4396; Viscount Grey of Fallodon, Twenty-Five Years (2 vols., New York, 1925) i, 24. ¹⁸¹ Currie to O’Conor (private), 28 Apr. 1895, O’Conor MSS, OCON 5/2/1; Dufferin to Kimberley (private), 1 May 1895, Kimberley MSS, MS.Eng.c.4402. ¹⁸² Malet to Kimberley (no. 102), 4 May 1895, FO 64/1350; Kimberley to Currie (private), 7 May 1895, Kimberley MSS, MS.Eng.c.4399.

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The Far Eastern balance of power had been changed by Japan’s victory and the emergence of the Far Eastern Dreibund. For Britain, the key Power remained Russia. Relations with St Petersburg were more complicated as a result of Britain’s abstention from the Russian-led intervention. True, Prince Lobanov himself acknowledged that Japan’s climb-down after 23 April was ‘in great measure due to the advice’ Kimberley had informally given to Katf.¹⁸³ Privately, senior Russian diplomats were less complimentary. Staal thought the ministers lacked foresight and courage. Britain was now isolated amongst the other Powers; and the new ‘intimité’ between Germany and France would cause problems for Britain in Egypt and in African questions. Lobanov himself regarded the speedy evacuation of Chinese territory by Japan as vital to Russian interests. Moreover, it was important not to let China fall under British inﬂuence, already dominant in southern Asia.¹⁸⁴ Kimberley was fully alive to the potential ﬁssures in Anglo-Russian relations. In a lengthy and insightful post-war tour d’horizon he reﬂected on the decision not to interfere as well as on its likely consequences for relations with St Petersburg. As to the latter, Kimberley was in no doubt that Lascelles’s ‘relations with Lobanoff must suffer by our not joining Russia in her remonstrance to Japan, and we most sincerely regret that we could not go with her in the matter’. While the status quo ante would have been preferable, Japan’s demand of the Liao-tung peninsula did not affect British interests to such a degree ‘that we could have been justiﬁed in interfering. The cession of Formosa touches us much more nearly & it is by no means agreeable to us.’ Indeed, all was not well in relations with Japan either. Japanese forces were still in occupation of Weihaiwei, and would remain there pending the satisfactory settlement of the indemnity question. The worst possible outcome for Britain would be Japan’s permanent establishment on the Gulf of Pechili: ‘If the Japanese were at Wei-hai-Wei they would cut . . . the [Chinese] Empire in half and they would be in inconvenient proximity of Shanghai & the great trade route of the Yangtze River.’¹⁸⁵ The war in Asia had thrown into sharper relief the problems of Britain’s isolation. Contrary to previous historical interpretations, Kimberley and Rosebery had begun to shift British policy at the regional level. Their decision ¹⁸³ Lascelles to Kimberley (no. 119), 7 May 1895, FO 65/1491; Neilson, Last Tsar, 159. ¹⁸⁴ Staal to Lobanov, 3/15 May 1895, and Lobanov to Mohrenheim, 11/23 May 1895, SC ii, 273–4. ¹⁸⁵ Kimberley to Lascelles (private), 1 May 1895, Kimberley MSS, MS.Eng.c.4405.

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not to oppose Japan in the spring of 1895 held out the option of future cooperation with Tokyo as a possible strategic choice in the Far East. At the same time, the events of 1894–5 had shown the faultlines in Anglo-Russian relations; and this had implications for British policy beyond the region. Close coordination of policy with St Petersburg was no doubt desirable in theory; in practice, it proved unattainable. For the moment it seemed best to await further developments. One political fact, however, was clear: no matter how much Kimberley had smoothed the path for Japan to give way to the triplice, it was only Japan’s decision to do so that had prevented a gap opening up between Britain and Russia. And that remained the most worrying prospect for British policy in China.

2 ‘Cartographic Consolation’: The Powers and the China Question, 1895–8 With Japan’s climb-down the moment of greatest danger for British policy had passed; but this did not end Britain’s difﬁculties. In the immediate aftermath of the war, China’s ﬁnancial weakness became a source of instability. Her defeat whetted the expansionist appetite of especially the Far Eastern Dreibund Powers. Combined, both developments transformed the China Question from a regional into a global problem. Over the next three years, the latest phase of the China Question would not only affect key British political interests in the region, but also undermine the foundations of Victorian foreign policy. In terms of Britain’s future inﬂuence at Peking, Nicholas O’Conor was initially optimistic. He detected no ill-feeling towards Britain at the Tsungli Yamên. Kimberley’s informal warning to Katf, of which O’Conor had taken care to inform the Yamên, ‘and the assistance thus rendered had been put down to our asset account’. Barely two months later, he noted a sharp decline of British inﬂuence at the Manchu court.¹ This sudden reversal was indicative of the increased speed at which events now moved in Chinese affairs, but also of the slow British response to them. The most pressing issue after the end of the Sino-Japanese conﬂict was the ﬁnancial weakness of the vanquished power. The year 1895 marked a turning point in China’s ﬁnancial external relations. Until then, China’s foreign borrowings had been minimal. The war changed all of this. Increased military expenditure compelled the government at Peking to apply for four loans which amounted to a total of £6,635,000. After the war China’s ﬁnancial needs became even more acute. The war indemnity and other ﬁnancial obligations to Japan came to about 250 million Kuping taels (£38 million). The conditions ¹ O’Conor to Kimberley (no. 171, very conﬁdential), 8 May 1895, FO 17/1235; to Salisbury (private), 1 July 1895, Salisbury MSS, 3M/A/106/1.

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imposed upon China were severe. Half the indemnity was to be paid over a six year period at 5 per cent interest unless paid by 1898.² The indemnity payments could only be met through contracting foreign loans. This had implications beyond China. Although superﬁcially the Peking authorities dealt with private banks, China’s ﬁnancial difﬁculties became a source of international tensions, and the ﬁnancial diplomacy surrounding the indemnity question would ultimately widen the divide between Britain and the triplice. Peking approached the Hong Kong and Shanghai Banking Corporation (HSBC) as a potential lender through Sir Robert Hart of the Imperial Chinese Maritime Customs Service (ICMCS). Although the Inspector General did not regard ‘the H[ong Kong and Shanghai] Bank people as ﬁrst class bankers’, the corporation had nevertheless added to its standing in China by successfully raising two loans in 1894 and 1895, which the Bank of England had refused to guarantee, amounting to some £4,635,000, over two-thirds of China’s total war-time borrowing.³ The bank was prepared to raise the entire loan on the London money market, though it admitted the need for assistance from its junior partner in Chinese ventures, the Deutsche-Asiatische Bank (DAB), a quasi-independent semi-state bank which ﬁnanced German enterprise in East Asia. Negotiations between the HSBC and the DAB’s ﬁnancial backers, the Disconto Gesellschaft, went smoothly until early May, when the German government ordered the bankers to delay any agreement until the Japanese evacuation of the Liaotung peninsula was ﬁnally settled.⁴ The Auswärtiges Amt was not satisﬁed with the securities offered by the maritime customs revenues, and favoured a loan jointly issued by the three coercive powers. This ﬁnancial triplice was to have a distinctly anti-British poise. The French government promptly signalled its willingness to cooperate in securing the loan, and a group of six French banks was formed to that end. Unsurprisingly, Paris also now endeavoured to draw in Russia.⁵ The directors of the HSBC, as ² For details see C. Hou, Foreign Investment and Economic Development in China, 1840–1937 (Cambridge, Mass., 1965), 23–4, 31–3, and 236, fn. 4; L. K. Young, British Policy in China, 1895–1902 (Oxford, 1970), 26–7; D. McLean, ‘The Foreign Ofﬁce and the First Chinese Indemnity Loan, 1895’, in HJ xvi, 2 (1973), 304. ³ Hart to Campbell, 27 Jan. 1895, IG ii, no. 962; see Hou, Foreign Investments, 236, fn. 4. For the background, S. F. Wright, Hart and the Chinese Customs (Belfast, 1950), 657–8; L. K. Little, ‘Introduction’, IG i, 4–22. ⁴ Memo. Sanderson, 7 May 1895, Rosebery MSS 10135. On the DAB and Disconto Gesellschaft, see M. Müller-Jabusch, Fünfzig Jahre Deutsch-Asiatische Bank, 1890–1939 (Berlin, 1940); B. Barth, Die deutsche Hochﬁnanz und die Imperialismen: Banken und Aussenpolitik vor 1914 (Stutgart, 1995), 40–1. ⁵ Holstein to Brandt, 19 May 1895, HP iii, no. 461; memo. Howard, 7 June 1895, Kimberley MSS, MS.Eng.c.4402; B. A. Romanov, Russia in Manchuria, 1892–1906 (New York, repr. 1974), 65–6.

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its London manager, Ewen Cameron, informed Sanderson, remained conﬁdent of ﬂoating the loan, but feared that the three coercive Powers might gain control of the customs.⁶ Since Britain’s political inﬂuence at Peking rested on commercial preponderance and on Hart’s superintendence of the maritime customs service, the exclusion of British banks from the loan was anathema to Kimberley. O’Conor was instructed to warn the Yamên against an exclusive Russo-French-German loan. The minister at Peking was already active in the matter: ‘international control [was] political rather than ﬁnancial, and against British interests’, he warned.⁷ Clearly, wider political issues had become involved in the loan question; foreign loans had become political tools. China’s ﬁnancial weakness had merely added a further arrow to the quiver of the Great Powers; and they were not slow in using this latest weapon. The French tried to link the loan negotiations to other regional matters, and demanded the rectiﬁcation of the frontier between French Tongkin and southern China.⁸ As a result of German government interference in the loan negotiations, relations between the HSBC and its German partners also became strained. The Hong Kong bank grew increasingly suspicious of German ambitions to establish a foothold in China. It had received information that its DAB partners were negotiating at Peking for a separate loan, secured against the internationalization of the customs and in return for preferential orders being placed with German companies.⁹ Such information created a sense of uncertainty which complicated the framing of Britain’s Far Eastern policy. Cameron lobbied Sanderson not to permit international control of the customs as damaging British trading interests in China. Britain’s weakened commercial position there would undermine British prestige in Asia. The Foreign Ofﬁce, Cameron demanded, had to encourage the Chinese to resist any European attempts to interfere with the ICMCS.¹⁰ ⁶ Memo. Sanderson, 7 May 1895, Rosebery MSS 10135; E.W. Edwards, British Diplomacy and Finance in China, 1895–1914 (Oxford, 1987), 9–10. ⁷ Tel. Kimberley to O’Conor (private and secret), 8 May 1895, and vice versa (private and secret), 14 May 1895, Kimberley MSS, MS.Eng.c.4396. For earlier incidents, D. McLean, ‘Commerce, Finance, and British Diplomatic Support in China, 1885–86’, EcHR xxvi, 3 (1978), 464–76. ⁸ Tel. Kimberley to O’Conor (no. 55, conﬁdential), 7 May 1895, FO 17/1242. ⁹ Tel. Kimberley to O’Conor (conﬁdential), 8 May 1895, Kimberley MSS, MS.Eng.c.4396; also min. Sanderson, n.d., on tel. Kimberley to Malet (no. 48, secret), 18 May 1895, FO 64/1352; MüllerJabusch, Deutsch-Asiatische Bank, 75–93. ¹⁰ Cameron to Sanderson, 9 May, and memo. Cameron, 10 May 1895, FO 17/1253; mins. Sanderson (on three conversations with Cameron), all 11 May 1895, Rosebery MSS 10135; cf. F. H. H. King, The History of the Hong Kong and Shanghai Banking Corporation, ii, The Hongkong Bank in the Period of Imperialism and War, 1895–1918 (Cambridge, 1988), 265–7.

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That was also Kimberley’s aim, though the Foreign Ofﬁce had little conﬁdence in the HSBC’s ability to handle such a large loan on its own. Sanderson attached greater importance to maintaining the present customs regime and to securing Hart’s eventual succession by a Briton. Any attempt by the HSBC to secure the loan for itself was likely to run into Franco-German opposition, and so complicate efforts to keep the ICMCS in its present form. The government, as Sanderson informed Cameron, would support a joint Anglo-French-German loan, with Rothschilds lending their support to the HSBC in raising the British portion of it. The idea for such an arrangement originated with Lord Rothschild, the head of the ﬁrm and also Rosebery’s father-in-law, whose advice the premier regularly sought. The object of Rosebery’s policy, then, was not ‘a diplomatic triumph over France and Germany’, but the internationalization of the loan issue so as to prevent the transformation of the Far Eastern Dreibund into a ﬁnancial triplice, and to consolidate British inﬂuence in China, centred on the ICMCS.¹¹ This was a rational response to the new situation, but also a profound misreading of the developments which took place in both continental Europe and China. Russia was adamantly opposed to allowing Britain any voice in the ﬁnal settlement of the war. Continental ﬁnanciers and governments were already active in the negotiations. Franco-German talks on the loan, to be issued simultaneously on the Berlin and Paris money markets, were hanging ﬁre owing to Hanotaux’s desire to involve Russia. The Russian ﬁnance minister, Sergei Yulevich Witte, meanwhile, was negotiating with the Paris Rothschilds. When their cooperation was not to be had, Witte had to turn to other Paris banking houses for support.¹² By mid-May Kimberley and Rosebery became increasingly alarmed at these manoeuvres. Hanotaux, Britain’s ambassador at Paris, the Marquess of Dufferin and Ava, warned, ‘has been earnestly engaged in seeking to arrange for the Chinese loan being issued under the sole auspice of French bankers, to the exclusion of English capital’.¹³ O’Conor was instructed to warn the Chinese not to agree to Russian or German loan offers, without prior consultation with Britain. China’s acceptance of Russian assistance ‘would place [her] in [an] embarrassing position of subserviency’, vulnerable to ¹¹ Min. (3rd) Sanderson, 11 May 1895, Rosebery MSS 10135; memo. Sanderson, 13 May 1895, FO 17/1253; McLean, ‘Chinese Loan,’ 307–8. ¹² Tel. Malet to Kimberley (no. 10), 20 May 1895, FO 64/1352; McLean, ‘Chinese Loan’, 309. Montebello later described Kimberley’s hopes as ‘un peu naïve’, Montebello to Hanotaux (no. 72, conﬁdentiel ), 12 June 1895, DDF (1) xii, no. 64. ¹³ Tel. Dufferin to Kimberley (private and secret), 25 May 1895, Kimberley MSS, MS.Eng.c.4402.

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future attempts to extract territorial concessions. The Chinese ministers, O’Conor reported back, needed no further reminder of the potential risks entailed in any offers by the three interventionist Powers; but ‘they may not be able to resist [the] pressure of [the] Powers unless they can borrow in [the] open market’.¹⁴ The attempted internationalization of the loan was never likely to be achieved at Peking. By mid-May the Far Eastern Dreibund began to disintegrate. It had always been an opportunistic mariage de convenance, forged by the exigencies of the ﬁnal stage of the Sino-Japanese War. Its object had been entirely negative, to deprive Japan of her possession of the Liaotung peninsula, but it had little positive substance. Its decay was inevitable, once its immediate object had been achieved. ‘Discord in camp already perceptible’, O’Conor wired from Peking; and Rosebery learnt of ‘a good deal of tiraillement between the French and Germans, the French greatly disliking having Germany associated with France and Russia’.¹⁵ Discord between the coercive Powers raised the prospect of separate attempts to secure loans. This, in turn, heightened the need to seek a solution in the continental capitals. Kimberley instructed the ambassadors at Paris, St Petersburg, and Berlin to warn against ‘competing attempts to raise a loan piece-meal [which] may lead to confusion and fritter away [the] security China has to offer’. The full amount required by China to pay the war indemnity could not be raised if the London ﬁnancial market were excluded; an arrangement satisfactory to all parties had to be sought.¹⁶ Kimberley’s initiative came too late, and had too little substance. The French and German governments reacted with reserve. Hanotaux ‘implied that he would view with favour an equitable distribution of the loan’, but disclaimed any ofﬁcial government interest in the matter, and refused to commit himself to any course.¹⁷ Hatzfeldt made vaguely friendly noises, but insisted that an international consortium was the best means of ﬂoating the loan. Indeed, German diplomats were acting on the assumption that, contrary to his ¹⁴ Tels. Kimberley to O’Conor (private and secret), 15 May 1895, Kimberley MSS, MS.Eng.4396, and vice versa (no. 53), 11 May 1895, FO 17/1235; K. Neilson, Britain and the Last Tsar: British Policy and Russia, 1894–1917 (Oxford, 1995), 179. ¹⁵ Quotes from tel. O’Conor to Kimberley (private and secret), 12 May 1895, Kimberley MSS, MS.Eng.c.4396; and Sanderson to Rosebery (private), 18 May 1895, Rosebery MSS 10134. ¹⁶ Tels. Kimberley to Dufferin (no. 62), Lascelles (no. 50), Malet (no. 87), and O’Conor (no. 66), 21 May 1895, FO 27/3223; tel. O’Conor to Kimberley (private and secret), 18 May 1895, Kimberley MSS, MS.Eng.c.4396; tel. Hanotaux to Courcel (no. 111), 20 May 1895, DDF (1) xii, no. 15. ¹⁷ Tels. Dufferin to Kimberley (no. 28), 29 May 1895, FO 27/3223; and (private), 21 May 1895, Kimberley MSS, MS.Eng.c.4402; McLean, ‘Chinese Loan’, 314–15.

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assurances, Kimberley was secretly aiming to organize the loan under the auspices of ‘une grande maison de banque anglaise’.¹⁸ The real key to moving the loan issue forward lay in St Petersburg. A combination of different factors made Russia’s attitude the crucial variable in the international politics of East Asia. France’s anxiety to act in unison with Russia, lest the Franco-Russian alliance be weakened, was one factor; Germany’s efforts to maintain close links with St Petersburg, precisely in order to dilute that alliance, was another. Finally, by force of her geographical proximity Russia always weighed heavily on the minds of the Chinese ministers. Lobanov was suspicious of British attempts to manipulate the loan issue so as to extend Britain’s informal inﬂuence in China. He was determined not to let Kimberley deprive Russia of any advantage gained by the triple intervention.¹⁹ The Foreign Secretary’s interview with Staal on 17 May, in which the former underlined the great commercial importance of China for Britain, had little effect on Lobanov; nor had Rosebery’s assurances of Britain’s desire to arrive at ‘une entente complète’. Lascelles’s representations at St Petersburg to sound out the Russian foreign minister as to the possibility of joint action met with an evasive reply.²⁰ Lobanov’s attitude stood in sharp contrast to the information of China’s acceptance of a Russian loan of £8 million, of which Alfred Rothschild, ‘in a tremendous state of excitement’, informed Kimberley on 18 May.²¹ The Russian foreign minister was clearly ‘trying to humbug’ Lascelles in an effort to gain time while Adolf Yulevich Rotshtein (Adolf Rothstein), Witte’s agent and later ﬁrst managing director of the Russo-Chinese Bank, was negotiating the ﬁnal details of the loan with Paris banking houses.²² Kimberley and Sanderson were dissatisﬁed with Lobanov’s ‘rather vague’ response to Lascelles’s enquiries, and now placed little trust in his reliability, or indeed veracity. The British, however, were not the only ones to be deceived by Lobanov about the negotiations of Witte’s agent at Paris. The Germans, still lobbying for the idea of an ¹⁸ Tel. Malet to Kimberley (no. 11), 21 May 1895, FO 64/1352; see tel. Herbette to Hanotaux (no. 104), 24 May 1895, DDF (1) xii, no. 29. ¹⁹ Lobanov to Mohrenheim (très conﬁdentiel), 11/23 May 1895, SC ii, 273; cf. tel. Hanotaux to Montebello (no. 138), 17 May 1895, DDF (1) xii, no. 11. ²⁰ Tel. Kimberley to Lascelles (no. 81), 18 May 1895, FO 65/1493; vice versa (no. 133), 22 May 1895, FO 65/1491; Staal to Lobanov, 17/29 May 1895, SC ii, 275; see Neilson, Last Tsar, 180. ²¹ Sanderson to Rosebery (private), 19 May 1895, Rosebery MSS 10134; Kimberley to Rosebery, 21 May 1895, ibid. 10070. ²² Lascelles to Sanderson (private), 22 May 1895, Lascelles MSS, FO 800/17; R. Quested, The Russo-Chinese Bank (Birmigham, 1977), 5–6 and 29–32; O. Crisp, Studies in the Russian Economy before 1914 (London, 1976), 125–6.

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international syndicate to administer a big loan, were similarly told of Lobanov’s indifference as to the details of the loan arrangements; and it was not until 1 June that the Wilhelmstrasse learnt of Rotshtein’s Paris talks.²³ The Russian manoeuvres in the loan question demonstrated the extent to which British and Russian objectives had already grown apart in China, but they also revealed how hollow the Far Eastern Dreibund was. Already at the end of May O’Conor noted that there was no sign of the triplice combination being active at Peking. But the minister was also critical of Kimberley’s policy in the indemnity question: ‘we are pressing this question too much. There are many Chinese who think they have got rid of a wolf but brought three tigers into their house to eat up all they had.’²⁴ O’Conor rightly argued that ‘joint action of the three powers . . . collapsed . . . even before it ever existed’; but his assumption was that the Tsungli Yamên would not ‘bind and fetter’ China. On 5 June, Lobanov made the Chinese minister at St Petersburg the ﬁrm offer of a FF 400 million (£15,820,000) gold loan at 4 per cent, with the interest payments guaranteed by Russia in combination with Crédit Lyonnais and the Banque de Paris. Although the loan is usually referred to as the Franco-Russian loan, the ‘coup d’audace de M. de Witte’ was little more than yet another French loan to Russia, for, as Hanotaux noted, FF 250 million of the total amount were to be placed in Paris. French misgivings about the details of the loan counted for nothing; alliance considerations overrode ﬁnancial concerns.²⁵ Russia’s political considerations were obvious. Baron Arthur Pavlovich von Mohrenheim, Russia’s ambassador at Paris, justiﬁed Witte’s ﬁnancial and diplomatic coup as a strategic necessity lest Russia ﬁnd ‘sur notre frontière immédiate en Asie, une seconde édition de l’Egypte et même de la Turquie’. At Berlin Holstein summarized the new situation more bluntly: ‘France furnishes the ﬁfteen million pounds, Russia furnishes the guarantee, and in this way keeps her hand on China’s throat.’²⁶ Kimberley continued to impress upon the Chinese that they would face ‘serious future embarrassments’. If he could not bring them to refuse the loan, ²³ Memo. Sanderson, 26 May 1895, FO 17/1253; Lascelles to Kimberley (private), 6 June 1895, Kimberley MSS, MS.Eng.c.4405; Gosselin to Kimberley (no. 142), 10 June 1895, FO 64/1350. ²⁴ O’Conor to Bertie (private), 23 May 1895, FO 17/1235. ²⁵ Tels. Dufferin to Kimberley (nos. 32, 33, and 35), 6, 7, and 10 June 1895, FO 27/3223; Herbette to Hanotaux (no. 112), 11 June 1895 and Hanotaux to Montebello (no. 185), 12 June 1895, DDF (1) xii, nos. 57 and 60. ²⁶ Quotes from note Mohrenheim to Hanotaux (conﬁdentiel), 11 June 1895, DDF (1) xii, no. 58; Holstein to Radolin, 4 June 1895, HP iii, no. 464.

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he hoped at least to induce them to procrastinate.²⁷ The Foreign Secretary fought a rearguard action. The key to preventing the conclusion of a Russian loan still lay in Europe. Kimberley thus concentrated his efforts on Berlin and St Petersburg. German grievances were not easily convertible into increased leverage for Britain in the loan issue, but Martin Gosselin, the high-ﬂying chargé d’affaires at Berlin, was able to extract from Marschall the promise that the German government would not allow any part of the loan to be ﬂoated on the German money market, provided London reciprocated.²⁸ If O’Conor and Gosselin made little headway, Kimberley’s efforts to inﬂuence St Petersburg were even less successful. In early June he warned Courcel—no doubt in the expectation that his words would be transmitted to St Petersburg—that he could not contemplate with indifference the possibility of Russia exploiting the loan so as to acquire ‘une inﬂuence dominante sur tout le nord de l’Empire chinois’.²⁹ Such warnings made little impact on Lobanov. The Russian foreign minister gave Lascelles bland assurances that his actions were actuated entirely by a desire to expedite Japan’s retrocession of the disputed peninsula, and so to secure peace in Asia. Friendly relations with China, he explained, were a vital interest to Russia in light of the extended Sino-Russian frontier. The loan offered was the most favourable arrangement available, even though it amounted to less than half the indemnity imposed on China.³⁰ Kimberley had to acquiesce; but he did not do so without reminding Staal of Britain’s considerable interests in East Asia, which she ‘could not let decline, nor see her inﬂuence be diminished’ there.³¹ On 6 July, the loan agreement was ﬁnally signed. As had been suspected in London and Berlin, its terms allowed Russia to extend her inﬂuence over China under the cloak of ﬁnancial assistance.³² Indeed, Witte ‘did not conceal his hope that China might fail to meet her engagements punctually in which case Russia would obtain the right of interfering directly in the administration of Chinese ﬁnance’. The strategic ²⁷ Tel. Kimberley to O’Conor (private), 18 June 1895, Kimberley MSS, MS.Eng.c.4396. ²⁸ Gosselin to Kimberley (no. 142), 8 June 1895, FO 64/1352; tel. Marschall to Gutschmid (no. 27), 7 June 1895, GP ix, no. 2276. ²⁹ Tel. Courcel to Hanotaux (no. 91), 10 June 1895, DDF (1) xii, no. 55. ³⁰ Lascelles to Kimberley (nos. 156 and 164, confidential), 16 and 19 June 1895, and min. Kimberley, n.d., on Lascelles to Kimberley (no. 157, confidential), 16 June 1895, FO 65/1491. ³¹ Staal to Lobanov, 27 June/9 July 1895, SC ii, 277–8. ³² Tel. Gosselin to Salisbury (no. 24), 8 July 1895, FO 64/1352. For the agreement see Treaties and Agreements with and concerning China, 1894–1919, ed. J. V. A. MacMurray (2 vols., New York, 1921) i, 41.

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implications of Russia’s reported request to build the Trans-Siberian Railway through Manchuria, were not lost on the British.³³ The 1895 loan was a key part of Witte’s grand Asiatic design for Russia’s ‘peaceful penetration’ of northern China; and as such it was the logical ﬁnancial corollary to the diplomatic intervention in the Liaotung question in April. Russian Far Eastern policy now gained momentum. Within a few weeks after the conclusion of the loan the Russo-Chinese Bank was created under Rotshtein’s superintendence, backed as always by French capital. British intelligence assessments correctly concluded that the Russo-Chinese Bank was in reality controlled by Witte.³⁴ Until Russian diplomacy took active steps to convert Russia’s ﬁnancial inﬂuence over China into hard political currency, British policy had to remain passive. Kimberley’s warning to Staal to respect British interests in the Far East was one of his last acts in ofﬁce. At the end of June the Rosebery administration collapsed, and it fell to Lord Salisbury to formulate a new China policy. For Kimberley, Lobanov’s apparent mendacity in the matter of the Chinese loan conﬁrmed long-held suspicions of Russian policy in general. His parting message for Lascelles was that ‘in St. Petersburg no Russian, however amiable, high-minded and otherwise conscientious should be relied upon to tell the truth habitually unless he was found to be an exception to the general rule. He says it is not their way.’³⁵ Salisbury did not set any greater store by Russian reliability than his predecessor. But by the time he took ofﬁce, Far Eastern affairs had become less acute, superseded by the resurgent Armenian problem. Russian desire to calm the situation in the Near East worked in Salisbury’s favour, since it allowed him to pause and recalibrate British policy in China. With Russian attention focused on Armenia and Constantinople, Salisbury hoped that ‘in other matters— Pamir boundaries & Chinese loans—there is a truce to all discussions with Russia: & we may assume, I suppose, that even her more ﬁery spirits will not wish to “set the heather alight”.’³⁶ At any rate, Russia required a breathing space ³³ Lascelles to Salisbury (no. 177, very conﬁdential), 10 July 1895, FO 65/1491; also tel. Dufferin to Kimberley (no. 42, secret), 9 July 1895, FO 27/3223. ³⁴ Memo. Macbean, ‘Russian Advances in Asia, 1890–5’ (conﬁdential), ? 1896, Curzon MSS, MSS.Eur.F.111/700; O. Crisp, ‘The Russo-Chinese Bank: An Episode in Franco-Russian Relations’, in SEER lii (1974), 197–212; T. H. von Laue, Sergei Witte and the Industrialization of Russia (New York, repr. 1969), 242–7. ³⁵ Sanderson to Lascelles (private), 26 June 1895, Lascelles MSS, FO 800/9. The Germans had come to view Lobanov in a similar light, tel. Hatzfeldt to Holstein, 18 June 1895, GP ix, no. 2315. ³⁶ Salisbury to Lascelles (private), 27 July 1895, Lascelles MSS, FO 800/16; P. T. Marsh, ‘Lord Salisbury and the Ottoman Massacres’, in JBS xi, 2 (1972), 63–84.

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in order to consolidate her position in the Far East. As Holstein noted, ‘[the Russians] have an unmistakable fear of Salisbury’ and for the time being wished to avoid any international quarrels.³⁷ After China’s acceptance of the Franco-Russian loan in June a new constellation between the Great Powers emerged in Far Eastern politics. Owing to Hanotaux’s opposition to any ﬁnancial cooperation with Germany, the Wilhelmstrasse now sought to realign with Britain. In a joint effort the two Powers pressed the Tsungli Yamên to commence negotiations for loans to cover the remaining sum of the indemnity payment not covered by the FrancoRussian loan. The Chinese ministers were receptive to Anglo-German representations because of the overtly political nature of Russian and French demands. Involving Britain and Germany in China’s ﬁnancial arrangements, then, closely mirrored Li Hung-chung’s diplomatic manoeuvres to internationalize earlier disputes in an effort to checkmate the more far-reaching ambitions and designs of foreign Powers. Two smaller loans of £1 million each, the British (or Cassel) and the German (or Nanking) loans, were agreed in 1895; and in the following year an Anglo-German loan of £16 million was issued jointly by the HSBC and DAB.³⁸ By 1896 it seemed as though Germany had ranged herself alongside Britain in Chinese affairs, and that there now was a ﬁrm basis of common interests which made for closer cooperation between the two countries.³⁹ An equilibrium had been established in the international politics of the China question in 1895–6. Contrary to the febrile press speculations at the end of the Sino-Japanese War, Britain seemed able to safeguard her interests in China without recourse to ﬁrm action or closer political involvement there. Salisbury had good grounds for choosing to await further Russian moves. Unlike Kimberley, he was suspicious about Japan’s ambitions as well as her possible value to Britain. When Sir Ernest Satow enquired as to the new Foreign Secretary’s policy in Asia, Salisbury replied at length. Japan’s strategic value to Britain could ‘easily be overestimated’. He did not doubt Japan’s intention to hinder Russia from acquiring an ice-free port, but he questioned her capability to do so, given Russia’s land-lines of communication. Besides, ‘Russia could always ﬁnd some bribe in those seas for Japan’. Russian expansion did not injure Japanese interests: ‘My impression ³⁷ Holstein to Eulenburg, 8 July 1895, as quoted in N. Rich, Friedrich von Holstein: Politics and Diplomacy in the Era of Bismarck and Wilhelm II (2 vols., Cambridge, 1965), ii, 441. ³⁸ Müller-Jabusch, Deutsch-Asiatische Bank, 90–3; King, HSBC ii, 271–2. ³⁹ Memo. Spring-Rice, 5 Nov. 1896, and Lascelles to Salisbury (no. 341, conﬁdential), 6 Nov. 1896, FO 64/1379; Courcel to Hanotaux (no. 149, conﬁdentiel ), 23 June 1895, DDF (1) xii, no. 73.

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is that the shrewder Japanese ministers will not be sorry to see enough Russian power in those latitudes to counterbalance the power of England.’ Satow was not to impart any political advice to Japanese ministers, nor should he ‘hint of any naval or military cooperation either against Russia or China’.⁴⁰ Salisbury’s analysis was cynical, but shrewd and cogent. Throughout his last period in ofﬁce he acted on an assumption that a Russian agreement could offer Japan distinct advantages, and he expected Japanese statesmen to be discerning enough to realize this. ‘[W]e sh[ou]ld not egg on the Jap[ane]se ag[ain]st them [viz. the Russians], but rather counsel them to get on happily with the Russians’, he told Satow in the autumn of 1897.⁴¹ This would also have had the beneﬁcial side-effect of keeping East Asian affairs stable. Still, Salisbury underestimated the intensity of Japanese hostility towards Russia, which meant that any agreements between the two countries could never be more than temporary. But Salisbury was not prepared to exploit the latent friction between these two Asiatic Powers to Britain’s advantage. Stability was preferable to the incalculable risks of conﬂict. The Foreign Secretary concentrated his efforts on settling outstanding disputes with France in South Eastern Asia. It was a typical instance of Salisbury’s pragmatic and reactive approach to foreign policy: ‘We never look more than 3 inches beyond our noses’, as Sanderson noted.⁴² Salisbury’s motivation in settling Asian disputes with France was two-fold. In the ﬁrst instance, in two separate conventions of 20 June 1895, France had obtained exclusive commercial and engineering concessions in the southern Chinese provinces of Yünnan, Kwantung, and Kwangsi, all of which were contiguous with French Indo-China. Indeed, shortly before leaving ofﬁce Kimberley was concerned that territorial concessions to France, possibly in the vicinity of Hong Kong, would lead to similar demands by Russia: ‘If the Russians grab some territory and get a powerful hold on China (which seems not unlikely) we may look out for squalls.’⁴³ No such scramble for Chinese territory materialized during the ﬁrst two years after the war. Nevertheless, Salisbury had to acknowledge that, in China’s ⁴⁰ Salisbury to Satow (private), 3 Oct. 1895, Satow MSS, PRO 30/33/5/2. It is indicative of Japan’s secondary role for Salisbury that Satow had to request guidance, Satow to Salisbury (private), 15 August 1895, Salisbury MSS, 3M/A/126/1. ⁴¹ Satow diary, 6 Oct. 1897, Satow MSS, PRO 30/33/16/1. ⁴² Sanderson to O’Conor, 15 Apr. 1896, O’Conor MSS, OCON 6/1/6. ⁴³ Kimberley to Ripon (private), 10 June 1895, Ripon MSS, Add.MSS. 43527. For the French concessions see M. Bruguière, ‘Le Chemin de Fer du Yunnan: Paul Doumer et la politique d’intervention Française en Chine, 1889–1902 (I)’, RHD lxxxvii, 2 (1963), 44–5.

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southern periphery, the initiative lay with France. Anglo-French relations in South East Asia were tense for most of the 1890s; and Salisbury saw the SinoFrench conventions of June 1895 in this context. The key factor was the future of Siam which had strained relations ever since 1893. Once French inﬂuence over Siam was ﬁrmly established, France would gain some leverage over Britain’s position in Burma. With the Siamese buffer-state dismantled, Britain faced the unpalatable prospect of joint pressure on India by France from the east and Russia from the north. Increased French activity in southern China, though incidental to the Siamese problem, was nevertheless part of the same problem.⁴⁴ Salisbury’s efforts to settle the issue of the Burmese border with French Indo-China was signiﬁcantly aided by the anglophile Courcel, who raised it during his ﬁrst interview with the new Foreign Secretary. George Curzon, Salisbury’s Parliamentary Under-Secretary, was also supportive of any joint efforts to neutralize Siam, and so remove a potential source of future tensions.⁴⁵ In the resulting Anglo-French convention of 15 January 1896 Britain and France agreed on the mutual non-interference in the Mekong valley.⁴⁶ The settlement with France served another purpose in the wider context in which British diplomacy had to operate. The compromise gave France a stake in the status quo in the Far East, so weakening any incentive to support any forward Asiatic policy on the part of Russia. Appeasing French designs in the Mekong valley had the pleasing side effect of loosening the internal cohesion of the Franco-Russian alliance. That alliance could not be disabled, however, by means of an agreement on strips of jungle in South East Asia; nor did Germany’s apparent gravitating towards Britain suggest a ﬁrm realignment between these two Powers. Germany had willingly cooperated with the Franco-Russian bloc before, and might do so again. Throughout the winter of 1895–6 British diplomats picked up evidence that Germany was seeking a coaling station on the Chusan Islands. Similarly, a Russian ﬂotilla of eighteen men-of-war wintered at Kiaochow Bay, thereby fuelling British suspicions of Russian designs on China.⁴⁷ Towards the end ⁴⁴ Reay to Elgin (private), 29 June 1895, Elgin MSS, MSS.Eur. F84/25; also Salisbury to Chamberlain (private), 27 Nov. 1895, Chamberlain MSS, BUL, JC 5/67/31. ⁴⁵ Memo. Curzon, ‘Siam, France, and China’, 13 Aug. 1895, Curzon MSS, MSS.Eur.F112/3; Courcel to Hanotaux (no. 155, conﬁdentiel ), 12 July 1895, DDF (1) xii, no. 88. ⁴⁶ The text of the conventions can be found in DDF (1) xii, no. 272, appendix; see J. D. Hargreaves, ‘Entente Manquée: Anglo-French Relations, 1895–6’, CHJ xi, 1 (1953), 65–92. ⁴⁷ Tels. Beauclerk to Salisbury (nos. 158, secret, and 164), 29 Nov. and 10 Dec. 1895, FO 17/1241 and 1242; see Romanov, Russia in Manchuria, 106.

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of October, The Times had reported that the Russian minister at Peking had concluded a convention with the Chinese government, granting Russia the right to build a direct railway line across northern Manchuria to Vladivostok and a branch-line to Port Arthur. The paper’s violent denunciation of Russian policy in China as threatening the Far Eastern equilibrium, as Staal warned Lobanov, caused a stir in Britain, and highlighted the extent to which the country’s political class was preoccupied with the China Question.⁴⁸ Staal denied the existence of the putative Cassini convention in the strongest terms. Even so, the Russian minister at Peking had made an abortive approach to the Chinese government in early October with a view to concluding an alliance treaty.⁴⁹ Salisbury, though alive to the potential political value of the Siberian railway for Russia, remained passive in China. At the end of 1895 he was preoccupied with Armenia. Too active a Russian role was only a hindrance there, as Salisbury conﬁded to Hatzfeldt in a neo-Bismarckian vein: the more deeply involved in Chinese affairs Russia became, the more she would be diverted away from the Near East, and would have to scatter her naval and military forces. Under such circumstances, a Russian naval action against the Turkish Straits was unlikely. Britain, Salisbury explained, would only object to Russia obtaining exclusive rights for its warships at Port Arthur.⁵⁰ In public, in his speech at the Guildhall on 9 November, Salisbury declared that ‘in Asia there is room for us all’. At the beginning of February 1896, Salisbury’s chief lieutenant in Parliament, Arthur Balfour, went further still. Speaking in Bristol, he stated that the British government would not oppose Russia’s acquisition of an ice-free port in Korea: ‘I should welcome such a result as a distinct advance in this far distant region . . . —surely Asia and Africa are large enough for us all.’⁵¹ Salisbury’s passive stance meant the British policy in China lacked sufﬁcient ‘weight . . . from local strength’, as the Chinese Secretary at the Peking legation noted. This assessment was shared also by neutral observers, such as the Netherlands minister-resident at Peking, F. M. Knobel, who observed that ‘England, through her vacillating policy, has lost the former inﬂuence at Peking’ to Russia.⁵² The Chinese ministers conceded to Russia the right to shorten the Trans-Siberian railway by building a new line through Manchuria; Russian ⁴⁸ The Times (25 Oct. 1895); Staal to Lobanov (particulière), 17/29 Oct. 1895, SC ii, 283–4. ⁴⁹ Salisbury to Goschen (no. 319), 30 Oct. 1895, FO 65/1489; Romanov, Russia in Manchuria, 68. ⁵⁰ Tel. Hatzfeldt to Auswärtiges Amt (no. 253), 25 Oct. 1895, GP x, no. 2393; Salisbury to G. J. Goschen (private), 25 Oct. 1895, Salisbury MSS, 3M/E/Goschen. ⁵¹ The Times (10 Nov. 1895 and 4 Feb. 1896). ⁵² Quotes from Cockburn to O’Conor, 9 Jan. 1896, O’Conor MSS, OCON 6/1/4; Knobel to Roëll (no. 38), 26 Nov. 1895, BBBP (2) v, no. 104.

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engineers were permitted to survey the possible track; and the construction of winter berths for the Russian ﬂotilla at Port Arthur was granted. In May 1896, apparently inadvertently urged on by Salisbury, the Japanese and Russian representatives in Korea came to an ad hoc local understanding whereby Japan conceded that Russia enjoyed equal rights with Japan in Korea. In the following month, the arrangement was upgraded in the Lobanov–Yamagata agreement, which recognized the equal status of Russia and Japan. In essence, it was a holding operation, conﬁrming a ‘stalemate’ between two Powers, anxious to extend their inﬂuence over the Korean peninsula but as yet unable or unwilling to act unilaterally.⁵³ Tsar Nicholas’s coronation also afforded an opportunity for Lobanov and Witte to resume the talks Cassini had begun in Peking in the autumn of 1895. China’s special representative at the festivities in Moscow, Grand Secretary Li Hung-chang, was pressed hard by the Russian negotiators, and he may well also have received bribes from the Russians. The talks resulted in the Sino-Russian treaty of 22 May/3 June 1896. It was a mutual defence pact which was to come into force in the event of a Japanese invasion of Russian territory in the Far East, China or Korea. Russia was also granted the right to build a railway line through the Manchurian provinces of Heilungkiang and Kirin to Vladivostok. The treaty underlined Russia’s preponderance in northern China, and this at minimal cost. The inclusion of Korea in the defence agreement secured Russia the right to intervene in Korean affairs, thus complementing the Lobanov–Yamagata agreement. However, Lobanov and Witte did not have it all their way. In the companion agreement between China and the Russo-Chinese Bank on the Chinese Eastern Railway (CER), Li was shrewd enough to insist on the branchline being built in standard gauge as opposed to the (Russian) broad gauge. Moreover, the work was to be undertaken by private companies, so allowing for Chinese participation and preventing the railways becoming a vehicle for Russia to project her power into northern Manchuria.⁵⁴ Although Salisbury had no ofﬁcial knowledge of the treaty, he was aware of Li’s negotiations with Lobanov and Witte. Ofﬁcially, British diplomacy remained ignorant of the treaty, but in practice Salisbury acted on the assumption of its existence. Still, he continued to encourage Russia’s further ⁵³ Goschen to Salisbury (no. 31, secret), 27 Feb. 1896; Foreign Ofﬁce memo., ‘Cassini Convention’, Mar. 1898, FO 881/6981; see M. Bounds, ‘The Sino-Russian Treaty of 1896’, Harvard Papers on China, no. 23 (1970), 112–13. ⁵⁴ A point overlooked by Bounds, ‘Sino-Russian Treaty’, 120; see MacMurray, Treaties i, 74–7. For Russian bribery of Li Hung-chang and Chang Yin-wan, see KA ii (1922), 287–93.

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engagement in the Far East, not least because it might have aided his efforts in September 1896 to come to some kind of working arrangement with the young Tsar at Balmoral.⁵⁵ Though this arrangement did not materialize, Salisbury’s ‘feeler’ in September was indicative of the desire of both governments to keep relations stable. Anglo-Russian relations in the Far East were, in fact, calm until the end of 1897, when Germany’s forceful appearance on the Chinese stage once more raised the spectre of a scramble for China. The murder of two German Christian missionaries in Shantung province in November 1897 gave Berlin the pretext to act on long-established plans to acquire territory in northern China. The Kaiser’s personal diplomacy had seemingly obtained from his cousin the Tsar Russia’s support for such plans. Yet, when on 14 November the German East Asian squadron seized Kiachow Bay on the Shantung promontory, Russia’s new foreign minister, Count Mikhail Nikolaevich Muravev, performed a volte-face. Russia, he claimed, had the droit du premier mouillage (right of ﬁrst anchorage); and a Russian naval squadron had been despatched there to safeguard that right.⁵⁶ Muravev’s move was a bluff, based on the assumption that Germany would now abandon the occupation. His underlying calculation was not altogether unrealistic, for at Berlin there were fears this move, in combination with recent strains caused by the China loans, might permanently sour relations with St Petersburg. Germany was not prepared for the current crisis. Germany’s relations with Britain had still not recovered from the effects of the Kaiser’s indiscreet ‘Kruger telegram’.⁵⁷ Berlin’s only trump card against Russia—the possibility of entering into a combination or, at least, a closer relation with Britain—was thus not available. Some, especially Friederich von Holstein, the éminence grise of the Wilhelmstrasse, pondered the possibility of an Anglo-German rapprochement. Salisbury ought to be persuaded ‘that this would be a psychological moment to bring the Kaiser back within earshot of England by means of a relatively inexpensive concession’.⁵⁸ ⁵⁵ Memo. Malcolm, 10 June 1896, Salisbury MSS, 3M/A/129/103; M. M. Jefferson, ‘Lord Salisbury’s Conversations with the Tsar at Balmoral, 27 and 29 September 1896’, SEER xxxix (1960), 216–22. ⁵⁶ Tel. Muravev to Osten-Sacken, 28 Oct./9 Nov. 1897, anon., ‘Zakhrat Germanie Kiao Chao v 1897’, KA no. 87 (1928), 39–40. On Nicholas II’s strong reaction see R. R. Mclean, Royalty and Diplomacy in Europe, 1890–1914 (Cambridge, 2001), 35. ⁵⁷ Lascelles to Salisbury (no. 226), 20 Aug. 1897, FO 64/1411. ⁵⁸ Holstein to Hatzfeldt (private), 13 Nov. 1897, HP iv, no. 630; Holstein to Eulenburg (private), 10 Nov. 1897, EulP ii, no. 1352.

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The possibility of an Anglo-German rapprochement caused some uneasiness at St Petersburg in the autumn of 1897. The strategic implications of Britain aligning herself more closely with the German-led Triple Alliance were obvious, as Edward Goschen, the chargé d’affaires at St Petersburg observed: ‘[it] will undubitably [sic] give the group she joins the preponderance of power in Europe.’⁵⁹ Still, however much Holstein and chancellor Hohenlohe desired closer relations with Britain, they understood that an Anglo-German rapprochement had its price. For this reason Holstein and Hohenlohe rejected the exchange of Kiaochow for another harbour on the Chinese coast. Potential alternatives further south were too close to the British sphere of interest in the Yangtze region, while the occupation of a port north of Kiaochow would have encroached even further upon the Russian sphere of interest. There was another reason for the sudden change in German policy in favour of a rapprochement with Britain. To buy off Russia would have meant committing Germany to Russia. A Russo-German understanding under conditions laid down by Russia would always be poised against Britain. Holstein was certain that it was in London’s own interest to support Germany against Russia.⁶⁰ The German coup caught the British government by surprise. It now faced a dilemma. There was the undeniable danger of a general scramble for naval bases and commercial concessions in the Far East, which was expected ultimately to lead to the complete disintegration of China.⁶¹ On the other hand, domestic considerations also came into play. Earlier in 1897 the China Association had urged the Foreign Ofﬁce to demand from the Chinese government the opening of Tsingtao as a treaty port. The Old China Hands argued that the opening of the port might forestall Russian or German moves on Kiaochow. The Foreign Ofﬁce was a frequent recipient of such proposals, not all of which were deemed practicable, though the clerks of the Far Eastern department had come to appreciate that ‘there are some moderate & sensible men on the c[ommit]tee of the China Association’.⁶² Opinions differed on Kiaochow’s potential as a viable open port. Sir Claude MacDonald, O’Conor’s successor as minister at Peking, doubted its commercial value, but admitted that ‘opening ⁵⁹ Goschen to Salisbury (no. 251), 29 Oct. 1897, FO 65/1534. ⁶⁰ Tels. Hohenlohe to Hatzfeldt (no. 326), 16 Nov. 1897, and vice versa (no. 218), 16 Nov. 1897, GP xiv/1, nos. 3702–3. ⁶¹ Tel. Salisbury to MacDonald (no. 59), 17 Nov. 1897, FO 17/1314; T. G. Otte, ‘Great Britain, Germany and the Far Eastern Crisis of 1897–8’, EHR cx, 439 (1995), 1161–2. ⁶² Campbell to Satow (private), 7 Oct. 1904, Satow MSS, PRO 30/33/7/3; see N. A. Pelcovits, Old China Hands and the Foreign Ofﬁce (New York, 1948), 207; A. J. Sargent, Anglo-Chinese Commerce and Diplomacy (Oxford, 1907), 234–5 and 282.

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[it] . . . would . . . checkmat[e] any designs of the kind attributed to Russia’. But he dismissed the bay’s strategic value. It could never be turned into a proper naval base: ‘the harbour [was] not at all well suitable for an anchorage for a man of war’.⁶³ Before any decision was taken, the German cruiser squadron entered Kiaochow Bay. The British government was now faced with an entirely new situation. British policy throughout the crisis was essentially reactive. It was conditioned by the twin uncertainties as to German intentions with regard to Kiaochow in particular and China in general, and as to whether there had been Russo-German collusion prior to the seizure. On the ﬁrst point, ofﬁcial statements from Berlin indicated that the harbour had been seized temporarily to extract compensation for the murder of the missionaries. Yet, rumours about the cession of various ports to Germany had circulated throughout 1897. In early October, in conversation with Satow, Salisbury had raised the prospect of Germany obtaining a port in the Far East ‘& said they wanted us to let them have Chusan, over w[hi]ch we have certain rights’. Salisbury was in no doubt that Russia would follow any German move: ‘L[or]d S[alisbury] said as long as the Russians looked for commercial advantages out there, we sh[ou]ld not interfere, but if they contemplated any military movements, we sh[ou]ld have to take corresponding measures.’⁶⁴ This observation mapped out the general direction of British diplomacy during the Kiaochow crisis. One week before the occupation, Lascelles, now ambassador at Berlin, reported that steps were being taken by the German government to secure a naval and coaling station in the Far East. MacDonald was certain ‘that they have got Kiao-Chow and they mean to hold on to it coûte que coûte’.⁶⁵ More important still was the question of possible German collusion with other Powers. Indeed, senior Foreign Ofﬁce clerks were haunted by the spectre of a revived Far Eastern Dreibund. Sanderson minuted that Russian assent to Germany’s acquisition ‘of a port somewhere in China is the payment for the eventual beneﬁt of Russia’. In the analysis of Francis Bertie, there could be no doubt that the Germans had obtained Russian assent prior to their action: ‘The ⁶³ MacDonald to Salisbury (no. 127), 8 Sept. 1897, FO 17/1313; also memo. Gundry, 15 June 1897, WO 106/17; M. H. Wilgus, Sir Claude MacDonald, the Open Door and the British Informal Empire in China, 1895–1900 (New York, 1987), 80–1. ⁶⁴ Satow diary, 6 Oct. 1897, Satow MSS, PRO 30/33/16/1; Gough to Salisbury (nos. 314 and 316), 19 and 20 Nov. 1897, FO 64/1412. ⁶⁵ Lascelles to Salisbury (nos. 299 and 309), 7 and 19 Nov. 1897, FO 64/1412; MacDonald to Bertie (private), 1 Dec. 1897, Bertie MSS, FO 800/162.

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Russian will now probably seek to acquire Talienwan or some other ice-free harbour as a counterpoise to the German port or to assist the Germans in defending China against British cupidity.’⁶⁶ Sanderson and Bertie feared that a scramble for Chinese territory was imminent. Discussing the occupation of Kiaochow with the German ambassador, Sanderson warned ‘that the policy of grab should not begin’. Hatzfeldt’s reply, ‘that the Russians were sure to begin [it] sooner or later if nobody else did’, indicated what lay ahead.⁶⁷ The prospects for stability in Asia were uncertain. The Japanese were wary of European designs to partition China. Komura Jutarf, the Deputy Foreign Minister, warned that the ‘occupation of such an important strategic point . . . would imperil the peace of the Far East’. Robert Hart was equally dismayed by the German action, but advised the Chinese ministers to concede Germany’s demands ‘as the least damaging solution’, lest other powers became involved in Chinese affairs.⁶⁸ From the outset of the crisis, Salisbury maintained his characteristic attitude of ‘intelligent inaction’, though he anticipated that the Germans would stay at Kiaochow. He had presumably formed this impression after a conversation with Hatzfeldt on 17 November. The ambassador had referred to the desirability of an Anglo-German rapprochement via the periphery. He stressed that the only motive for the German action was to exact from the Chinese some compensation for the murder of the missionaries. At the same time, he carefully avoided committing his government to a deﬁnite policy. He merely observed that public opinion in Germany might not allow for a withdrawal from Kiaochow. Hatzfeldt also intimated that, to obtain Russian approval, meant committing German foreign policy to the advantage of Russia. It would be in Britain’s interest to be more conciliatory to Germany. Salisbury voiced no objections to the German occupation of a place on the Chinese coast, but made it clear to Hatzfeldt ‘that the further north that place was the less problematic and undesirable it would be for England’.⁶⁹ Salisbury’s ﬁrm line was justiﬁed. The Russian government, as Mohrenheim explained to Hanotaux, was trying to force Germany to exchange Kiaochow for a port that was not in the vicinity of either the Russian sphere or the French ⁶⁶ Quotes from min. Sanderson, 13 Dec. 1897, on Gough to Salisbury (no. 346), 10 Dec. 1897, FO 64/1412; and memo. Bertie, 18 Nov. 1897, FO 17/1330. ⁶⁷ Note Sanderson to Salisbury, 19 Nov. 1897, Sanderson MSS, FO 800/2. ⁶⁸ Quotes from Satow to Salisbury (no. 245), 1 Dec. 1897, FO 46/485; Hart to Campbell, 28 Nov. 1897, IG ii, no. 1088. ⁶⁹ Min. Salisbury, n.d. [18? Nov. 1897], FO 17/1330; tels. Hatzfeldt to Hohenlohe (nos. 219 and 220), 17 and 20 Nov. 1897, GP xiv/1, nos. 3708 and 3710.

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zones of interest.⁷⁰ The Germans now faced an awkward dilemma. The occupation of Kiaochow had caused tensions with Russia. Yielding to Russian pressure was tantamount to acknowledging that German policy could be dictated by the Franco-Russian combination. Exchanging Kiaochow for another place, as Salisbury’s unequivocal statement had made clear, would cause ructions in relations with London. Indeed, throughout the winter of 1897–8 German diplomats were anxious to dispel British suspicions of German ambitions. Hatzfeldt, and Edmund von Heyking at Peking, gave repeated assurances that Germany would respect British interests. Heyking even claimed that Chinese offers of different ports south of Kiaochow had been rejected by his government ‘owing to [the] cordial relations which existed between [the] English and German governments’. Such protestations of good will were given little credence in London. It elicited the briefest of comments from Bertie: ‘Credat Judas.’⁷¹ Under these circumstances the Wilhelmstrasse ﬁnally abandoned the idea of exchanging Kiaochow, and, on 22 November, Russia was ofﬁcially informed of this. The Russo-German crisis had reached its climax; but within a week Muravev decided to disengage.⁷² He did so largely because he had no other option. The Russian government was not really prepared to risk a war in the Far East; and its French ally was not inclined to support any effort to expel the Germans from Kiaochow. With Muravev’s climb-down, the European tensions abated, but for Britain the Kiaochow affair had raised more complex issues. At the Foreign Ofﬁce there was divided counsel. The PUS remained wedded to the maintenance of China’s territorial integrity. Within the limits of his own understanding of his executive role, this discreet and cautious bureaucrat was the champion of ‘traditional’ policy. From the outset of the crisis he warned against the ‘policy of grab’, while Bertie was more ambivalent on this point.⁷³ Salisbury vacillated between these two positions, and showed an uncharacteristic uncertainty as to how to respond to the changing situation in the Far East. Initially inclined to demand ‘a countervailing advantage’ in the event of Germany permanently obtaining a port or coaling station on the Chinese coast, he later countermanded his instructions.⁷⁴ In general, Salisbury was ⁷⁰ Memo. Hanotaux, 24 Nov. 1897, DDF (1) xiii, no. 366. ⁷¹ Min. Bertie, n.d., on tel. MacDonald to Salisbury (no. 93), 22 Dec. 1897, FO 17/1314. ⁷² Osten-Sacken to Muravev, 10/22 Nov. 1897, ‘Zakhrat Germanie’, 49–50; note Rotenhan to Osten-Sacken, 22 Nov. 1897, GP xiv/1, no. 3711; Rich, Holstein ii, 566–7. ⁷³ Sanderson to Salisbury (private), 19 Nov. 1897, Sanderson MSS, FO 800/2; min. Bertie, 23 Dec. 1897, FO 17/1330. ⁷⁴ Tels. Salisbury to MacDonald (nos. 59 and 60), 17 and 21 Nov. 1897, FO 17/1314; also tel. Bertie to Salisbury, 18 Nov. 1897, ibid.

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opposed to acquiring a further Far Eastern naval station. His reticence to commit himself to any deﬁnite course of action in November was rooted in his apprehension that the German seizure of Kiaochow would lead to a general ‘scramble for China’, an eventuality which he sought to avert, but which he deemed increasingly inevitable.⁷⁵ In addition, there was confusion about Germany’s ultimate objectives in China. The months of November and December were rife with rumours that the Germans were prepared to leave Kiaochow Bay for other ports.⁷⁶ The situation was further obscured because the precise nature of the German demands was not yet known either. By mid-December naval intelligence reported that the Germans had come to stay.⁷⁷ In so far as could be ascertained, the Germans had not demanded a coaling station. On the contrary, their main concern seemed to be with the punishment of the murderers of the missionaries and of those Chinese ofﬁcials who had condoned that crime. In light of past experience with anti-missionary riots in parts of China, this seemed reasonable. The punishment of governor Li Peng-heng, ‘an ignorant and bigotted [sic] anti-foreign ofﬁcial of the old fashioned Chinese type’, in particular, was seen as a useful measure to bring home to Peking the consequences of attacks on foreigners.⁷⁸ By contrast, the ﬁfth German demand for preferential rights in railway building and mining in Shantung caused concern. As in the case of the 1895 Sino-French convention, such preferential rights constituted a derogation from the most-favoured-nation status granted to Britain under the Treaty of Tientsin of 1858/60. When, on 6 December, MacDonald reported that the Chinese government was prepared to accede to all German demands, Salisbury instructed him to warn Peking that accession to the ﬁfth demand would force Britain to claim ‘compensation on points in respect to which those rights have been disregarded’.⁷⁹ The precise nature of the compensation was left open. Salisbury was anxious not to make territorial demands on China. In addition to doubts about the permanence of Germany’s occupation of Kiaochow, he reasoned that Britain’s ⁷⁵ Min. Salisbury, n.d. [24 Nov. 1897], FO 17/1330. ⁷⁶ Tels. MacDonald to Salisbury (nos. 82 and 84), 12 and 14 Dec. 1897, and min. Campbell, n.d. [13 Dec. 1897], FO 17/1314; Goschen to Salisbury (no. 8), 9 Jan. 1898, FO 65/1552. ⁷⁷ Tel. Buller to Admiralty (no. 548), 15 Dec. 1897, and to Seymour (no. 570), 26 Dec. 1897, ADM 125/52. ⁷⁸ MacDonald to Salisbury (no. 161), 1 Dec. 1897, FO 17/1313; min. Campbell, n.d. [c. 23 Nov. 1897], FO 17/1314. ⁷⁹ Tel. Salisbury to MacDonald (no. 67), 8 Dec. 1897, ibid.; Chinese Secretary’s Ofﬁce, record book, 13 and 21 Dec. 1897, FO 233/44; memo. Davidson, ‘Kiaochou: Observations on German Demands’, 8 Dec. 1897, FO 17/1330.

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actual or assumed opposition to a German coaling station in Chinese waters was likely to be seized upon by Peking to refuse the German demands, thereby alienating Berlin.⁸⁰ Salisbury’s caution was justiﬁed, but could not prevent such an eventuality. On 16 December, Heyking informed Bülow that the Tsungli Yamên was prepared to accept the permanent occupation of Kiaochow by Germany, had not his British colleague demanded territorial compensation. There is no evidence that MacDonald made such demand.⁸¹ It is more likely that this was a deliberate ploy by the Chinese ministers to drive a wedge between the Powers in the hope of thereby forcing the Germans to evacuate Kiaochow Bay altogether. The spat between the two ministers at Peking removed any remaining doubt about the permanence of the German occupation. In this respect the middle of December marked a turning point in British thinking. This was particularly true of Salisbury. Until then, the prospect of Germany’s gaining a foothold in North China was viewed with equanimity, Bertie being the exception. MacDonald’s observations of early December very much reﬂected Salisbury’s own thoughts: If . . . the German object is to secure Kiaochou as a naval station, under cover of their demands for reparation, it is by no means clear that their acquisition of it will prejudice our interests. It is . . . evident that such an outcome is resented by Russia as poaching on what she recognised as her own preserves, and there can be little question that a Shantung port in German hands is far less a menace to the independence of China than if it were held by Russia.⁸²

But the appearance of a Russian naval squadron at Port Arthur in midDecember profoundly altered the situation.⁸³ Russia’s naval presence in the Gulf of Pechili seemed to presage the ‘policy of grab’ which Sanderson had feared earlier. Ofﬁcially, Muravev disclaimed any territorial ambitions; the decision ‘to accept the offer of the Chinese Government to allow the Russian Squadron to winter at Port Arthur’ had been dictated entirely by logistical considerations. Edward Goschen was not swayed by the Russian foreign minister’s soothing words. As soon as the Trans-Siberian railway was completed, ‘Russia will endeavour to establish herself deﬁnitely in a Port free from ice in the ⁸⁰ Tel. Salisbury to MacDonald (no. 70), 15 Dec. 1897, FO 17/1314. ⁸¹ Tel. Heyking to Auswärtiges Amt (no. 98), 16 Dec. 1897, GP xiv/1, no. 3735; MacDonald to Salisbury (no. 175), 16 Dec. 1897, FO 17/1313. ⁸² MacDonald to Salisbury (no. 161), 1 Dec. 1897, FO 17/1313. ⁸³ Morrison to Bland, 6 Dec. 1897, GEM i, no. 15; Goschen to Salisbury (No. 293), 21 Dec. 1897, FO 64/1534.

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winter, either Port Arthur or some equally convenient and commanding position in the vicinity’, he warned. For the moment, Russia’s military and naval preparations were not sufﬁciently complete to allow her to precipitate matters ‘or to take any step which might possibly involve her in difﬁculties with Foreign Powers’. Goschen’s analysis was sensible enough, though Muravev was actually driven by fears that Britain would demand territorial compensation around the North China Sea, thus forestalling future Russian expansion.⁸⁴ The wintering of the Russian squadron at Port Arthur increased domestic pressure on Salisbury to formulate a positive response to the Far Eastern crisis. Already at the beginning of December the London committee of the China Association had urged the Foreign Ofﬁce to respond to the German action. In view of the strategic importance of Kiaochow Bay, the Old China Hands pointed out that a naval station at the entrance of the Gulf of Pechili, coupled with exclusive railway concessions in Shantung, would ‘give the occupying power a degree of political and commercial inﬂuence at Peking’. Such inﬂuence might ‘be seriously detrimental to British interests’. The Association warned that ‘we may be on the threshold of a new departure, involving grave political consequences, in the Far East’.⁸⁵ On 3 December, William Keswick, a member of Jardine Matheson & Co. and one of the Association’s secretaries, repeated the demand for urgent action. Alluding to the possibility of a Russo-French-German scheme for the annexation of large parts of China, he suggested ‘the British Government make an offer to the Chinese Government for the Yangtze-Kiang River provinces in order to secure British inﬂuence in that region’. Robert Bredon of the ICMCS suggested closer cooperation with Japan in order to redress the altered balance of power and inﬂuence in northern parts of the Chinese Empire. He also argued that Britain ought to occupy the port of Weihaiwei on the northern coast of the Shantung promontory as a visible sign of continued British presence and inﬂuence in northern China.⁸⁶ These were important voices that could not easily be ignored. Bertie in particular realized their utility for his own efforts to prod Salisbury into action. Outside proposals, then, reﬂected rather than inﬂuenced the changing attitudes of senior British diplomats. They shared Bredon’s view that there was ⁸⁴ Goschen to Salisbury (no. 293), 26 Dec. 1897, FO 65/1534; tel. Vauvineux to Hanotaux (no. 324), 5 Dec. 1897, DDF (1) xiii, no. 374. ⁸⁵ China Association to Salisbury, 1 Dec. 1897, FO 17/1330; see Pelcovits, Old China Hands, 207–8. ⁸⁶ Keswick to Bertie, 3 Dec. 1897, and Gundry to Bertie, 5 Dec. 1897, FO 17/1330; Bredon to Bertie (private), 20 Dec. 1897, FO 17/1330. External advice in this matter was often in the realm of geopolitical fantasy. Examples can be found in FO 17/1333.

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no ‘adequate counterpoise to German and Russian actions in the North’. O’Conor advised that the British government ought to declare its interests in China, ‘in fact deﬁne a sphere of inﬂuence’.⁸⁷ Three months later, O’Conor elaborated on this recommendation in a private letter to Sanderson. Given his previous experience of Chinese affairs and his current post at St Petersburg, his main concern was with the Russian threat to British interest across the whole of Asia. He doubted Britain’s ability to halt Russia’s inexorable advance through Manchuria towards Peking and possibly even further. The force of geography was in her favour; and he predicted that ‘every year will see them pressing down South more & more till the weight of the mass eventually falls & an inevitable historical episode will be completed’. Britain could stop Russian expansion only temporarily. O’Conor’s analysis highlighted the wider geostrategic constraints placed upon the Empire: ‘In proportion as we cross them in N[orth] China, they will harass us in China; on the Indian Frontier; in the Persian Gulf. If we squeeze them in N[orth] China, they will bite us when they can & the other Powers will be only too pleased.’⁸⁸ Bertie was less moved by such visions of historical inevitability. He turned his mind to more imminent and practical matters. In a memorandum of 23 December, which reﬂected his ongoing concern with a re-emerging Far Eastern Dreibund, he took up the issue of a counterpoise. Any attempt to deﬁne a British sphere of inﬂuence, he warned, would amount to an invitation to the former triplice to establish themselves in the ‘undeﬁned parts of China’. Spheres of interest should be discouraged, for Britain’s ‘paramount interest is unrestricted trade everywhere’. As a last resort only should Britain ‘take a portion commanding the Yangtze Kiang River when we see that we are placed at a disadvantage in other parts of China or that France is on the move to take something’. Bertie warned against imitating the Russian example of sending naval vessels to winter in northern Chinese waters, as this was likely to encourage France to move ships to Hainan or Pakhoi in the South. For the same reason he also counselled against the acquisition of additional territory as compensation for the gains Russia and Germany were expected to make. A guarantee by China not to alienate territory in the vicinity of Hong Kong was sufﬁcient to safeguard Britain’s immediate interests. For the moment, a ‘squadron able to deal with a Russian-German-French combination would be our best security’. Salisbury concurred with his AUS’s observations. He was not yet persuaded of ⁸⁷ Memo. Sanderson (on conversation with O’Conor), 23 Dec. 1897, FO 17/1330. ⁸⁸ O’Conor to Sanderson (private), 24 Mar. 1898, Salisbury MSS, 3M/A/129/39.

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the need to acquire Chinese territory, ‘unless Russia or Germany had absolutely annexed some portion of Chinese soil’.⁸⁹ To maintain some sort of ﬂying squadron in the north, nearly 1,000 miles from Hong Kong, was fraught with logistical difﬁculties. The implicit recommendation of Bertie’s memorandum, then, was that Britain had to acquire a naval base in north China. Already in November MacDonald had privately suggested that a fortiﬁed coaling station in northern Chinese waters was desirable. On his own initiative, he had enquired of Admiral Sir Alexander Buller, the commander-in-chief on China Station, whether another naval station besides Hong Kong ought to be acquired ‘in the two following contingencies: Firstly, the Germans remaining at Kiaochow; Secondly, [the] Germans giving up that place and obtaining a coaling station near Foochow’. On receiving Buller’s reply, MacDonald sent a private telegram to Salisbury conveying his recommendation.⁹⁰ Salisbury received further advice from other quarters. Responding to an enquiry by Bertie, Sir Cecil Clementi Smith, former Governor of the Singapore Straits Settlement and a former President of the China Association, developed his ideas on the East Asian situation. Germany’s occupation of Kiaochow, he argued, would not harm British commercial interests. As a ‘place d’armes’ it would strengthen Germany only in her dealings with China, but ‘would be a source of weakness as against any European Power or combination of Powers’. As regarded Russia, Smith argued that her establishment at Port Arthur could not be averted. Indeed, he thought that ‘she would probably be more likely than at any previous time to enter into a friendly understanding with us’ to safeguard the respective spheres of interest against Japan. He counselled against emulating the Russian and German actions: ‘We have not an army of sufﬁcient size to maintain such a port in a state of efﬁciency, & the more our Fleet is spread about the world the weaker it is for offensive operations.’ Instead, the government ought to concentrate on strengthening installations at Hong Kong. Given the continued uncertainty of the situation in China, Smith’s recommendations struck Salisbury as sensible.⁹¹ Smith’s advice was reinforced by Vice-Admiral Sir Richard Tracey, the President of the Royal Naval College, who had Far Eastern experience. Occupying a port, such as Port Hamilton in the Tsushima Straits, was ‘a White ⁸⁹ Memo. Bertie, 23 Dec. 1897, and min. Salisbury, n.d., FO 17/1330. ⁹⁰ Tels. MacDonald to Buller, 21 Nov., and vice versa, 22 Nov. 1897, FO 228/1244; tel. MacDonald to Salisbury (private), 23 Nov. 1897, FO 17/1313. ⁹¹ Min. Salisbury, n.d., on Smith to Bertie, 27 Dec. 1897, encl. in Bertie to Salisbury (private), 28 Dec. 1897, Bertie MSS, Add.MSS. 63013.

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Elephant’. A German base at Kiaochow posed no serious danger to British interests as Germany did not have the necessary global network of coaling stations. The fortiﬁcation of Kiaochow was costly, ‘and it will be a weakness rather than a strength in a war with us, as she would have to try to defend it’.⁹² In early January 1898 Clement F. R. Allen, the Chefoo consul, submitted a detailed memorandum on the effect on trade of the Russian and German occupations. He came to the same conclusions as Smith and Tracey: foreign naval stations in northern China were potential sources of weakness since they required substantial outlay to fortify them; and commercially only Talienwan, and possibly Port Arthur, were valuable: ‘Wei-hai-Wei is absolutely of no value commercially’, he noted; and Kiaochow ‘would be admirably adapted for a small Treaty port, and would open fresh districts to foreign trade; but as a point d’appui for the general foreign trade on the [Chinese] Empire it is as worthless as . . . it will be politically.’⁹³ Advice from such diverse sources reinforced Salisbury’s instinctive caution. At all events, he was wary of the additional expenditure entailed in the establishment of a further naval base. When MacDonald privately suggested a fortiﬁed coaling station in northern China, Salisbury commented: ‘That means a charge of some £40,000 again.’⁹⁴ Salisbury’s apparent lethargy ought not to be taken for a lack of strategy. Nor was Courcel’s assumption correct that Salisbury ‘sous son masque serein, est au fond perplexe’.⁹⁵ He did not refuse to acknowledge the existence of a Far Eastern crisis, but refused to be rushed. As he explained to Sanderson on 23 December, Salisbury expected Germany to acquire territorial rights either at Kiaochow or elsewhere in the north; and he anticipated the permanent Russian occupation of Port Arthur. The foreign seizures of Chinese territory concentrated his thinking on three central questions: 1. As to whether this would modify the strategical situation so as to make it necessary for us to occupy some new portion and if so where. 2. Whether such a step on our part would be required to maintain what is vaguely called our prestige—that is to say our position as a ﬁrst-rate Power interested above others in the commerce of those seas. 3. Whether the position held by Russia and Germany would give them such means of exercising political pressure at Pekin as to render some counter-move on our part ⁹² Bertie to Salisbury (private), 30 Dec. 1897, Bertie MSS, Add.MSS. 63013. ⁹³ Memo. Allen, 10 Jan. 1898, FO 405/76/31; Lord C. Beresford, The Break-Up of China (London and New York, 1899), 76–7. ⁹⁴ Min. Salisbury, n.d., on tel. MacDonald to Salisbury (private), 23 Nov. 1897, FO 17/1330. ⁹⁵ Courcel to Hanotaux (no. 347), 23 Dec. 1897, DDF (1) xiii, no. 384; also Staal to Muravev, 10/22 Dec. 1897, SC ii, 354–5.

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necessary for preservation of our inﬂuence in matters which are important for the protection of our commerce, such as the selection of the Inspector General of Customs etc.

A possible course of action, he thought, would be the establishment of a ‘winter station’ near Chefoo, ‘or the constant presence of our vessels there’.⁹⁶ Salisbury realized that the crisis had the potential of weakening Britain’s position in China. Still, the deterioration of the British position there had to be seen in a wider context. The causes of this relative decline, he was convinced, were to some extent self-made. Throughout his career Salisbury had been conscious of the limitations of British power and of the obstacles to the longterm planning of foreign policy implicit in the country’s domestic political arrangements. In this instance, he did not hesitate to blame his predecessor for his Chinese difﬁculties. In a memorandum, drawn up at the special request of the Lord Privy Seal, his long-time political associate Viscount Cross, he admitted that ‘we are struggling with great difﬁculties to maintain our position’. China’s leaning towards Russia as her protector, ‘& the indignation which she cannot get over at our support of Japan against her in the war’, accounted for this. Britain’s commercial dominance in China made it imperative ‘that we should be looked upon in the light of reasonable contentment by the Chinese’. Salisbury dismissed Rosebery’s apparent decision to aid Japan, as an ‘isolated & somewhat eccentric’ act that had produced no beneﬁts for Britain. On the contrary, in the eyes of the Chinese, ‘we are a people that cannot be trusted’. Having proﬁted from the China trade, and despite having ‘been their allies for many years’, Britain had been found unreliable in a crisis. As a result, he concluded, ‘when very serious questions are at issue . . . we have to make way against all the prejudice & all the distrust caused by the gratuitous abandonment of our previous political attitude in the years 1894–5’.⁹⁷ Whatever his misgivings about Rosebery’s handling of the Sino-Japanese war, by the turn of 1897–8, Salisbury accepted that action was now necessary. As a matter of practical politics, he attached more importance to securing Hart’s succession at the head of the ICMCS for a British national than to obtaining territorial concessions on the Chinese coast—a view shared by senior ministers conversant with foreign affairs.⁹⁸ There were other factors that had to ⁹⁶ Memo. Sanderson, 23 Dec. 1897, Sanderson MSS, FO 800/2. Grenville, by contrast, argues that Salisbury ‘refused to acknowledge that a “Far Eastern Crisis” ever existed’, idem, Salisbury, 130. ⁹⁷ Memo. Salisbury, n.d., encl. in Salisbury to Cross (private), 30 Dec. 1897, Cross MSS, Add.MSS. 51264; vice versa (private), 31 Dec. 1897, Salisbury MSS, 3M/E/Cross (1892–1902). ⁹⁸ Goschen to Salisbury (private), 31 Dec. 1897, Salisbury MSS, 3M/E/Goschen (1897–8).

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be considered. At the end of the year, the Colonial Secretary, Joseph Chamberlain, complained that he could ﬁnd nothing concerning China in the conﬁdential print ‘although public opinion has been expecting some sensational action on our part. Public opinion is a very good guide but I suppose we shall be sharply questioned when Parliament meets, & if we do absolutely nothing before then I fear the effect of our self-effacement bills on our friends & on foreign governments.’ It was a characteristic outburst by the strong man of the Unionist administration. Salisbury was not likely to share Chamberlain’s view of the value of public opinion as a guide to decision-making, but he admitted ‘that “the public” will require some territorial or cartographic consolation in China[;] . . . as a matter of pure sentiment we shall have to do it’.⁹⁹ This admission did not imply immediate action. In response to Salisbury’s observations, Chamberlain further developed his views of the China situation. He doubted the much vaunted potential of the China market. In order to maintain British prestige in the East, however, ‘we can[not] afford to be left behind’. He warned of the wider consequences of inaction: ‘if we make no move it will be a great encouragement to further tail-twisting on the part of our dear friends & allies of the Concert of Europe.’ In Asia, the Japanese ‘would be valuable allies’, and therefore suggested ‘draw[ing] closer to Japan’. If Britain decided to demand compensation, Japan’s support could be counted upon, provided she was consulted beforehand: ‘I do not suppose that a Treaty of Alliance would be desirable, but I should hope that an understanding might be arrived at which would be very useful.’ He encouraged Salisbury to meet Japanese wishes to have the legation in London raised to the rank of embassy: ‘It would be understood by the other Powers as an indication of an “unwritten Alliance”, without committing us. It would ﬂatter the Jap[ane]s[e] & be worth more than the Garter to the Mikado.’¹⁰⁰ Chamberlain’s end-of-the-year epistle coincided with a certain amount of movement in Japanese policy. Satow reported that the Itf government was considerably worried that Germany might take the whole of Shantung, and feared that Russia would eventually force Japan out of Weihaiwei. Tokyo was hopeful that Britain would establish herself at Chusan: ‘I am told that Japan would do anything England asked of her at the present moment to gain her friendship.’¹⁰¹ ⁹⁹ Quotes from Chamberlain to Salisbury (private), 29 Dec. 1897, Salisbury MSS, 3M/E/Chamberlain (1896–7), and reply (private), 30 Dec. 1897, Chamberlain MSS, JC 5/67/88; Garvin, Life of Joseph Chamberlain iii, 249. ¹⁰⁰ Chamberlain to Salisbury (private), 31 Dec. 1897, Salisbury MSS, 3M/E/Chamberlain (1896–7). ¹⁰¹ Satow to Salisbury (private), 30 Dec. 1897, Salisbury MSS, 3M/A/126/34.

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Indeed, Salisbury had already enquired of MacDonald whether there was a small port in the Gulf of Pechili ‘suitable as a make-weight for [the] German occupation’. On New Year’s Eve, he ﬁnally instructed the minister that, if the Chinese Government ceded territory to Germany, Britain would demand ‘some corresponding concession’.¹⁰² Salisbury had initially feared the ﬁnancial costs of acquiring Chinese territory. He had also been warned of the limitations placed upon Britain’s ability to project her power in the Far East ‘at short notice’.¹⁰³ By the end of December 1897, however, he was convinced of the need to establish a British naval station in northern China as a counterpoise to the German base at Tsingtao. He met the First Lord of the Admiralty, George Joachim Goschen, at the beginning of January 1898 ‘to discuss various harbours in China’.¹⁰⁴ On 5 January, MacDonald repeated that Santu Island in the Samsah Inlet, Chusan off Shanghai or Thornton Haven were all preferable to any other potential base further north.¹⁰⁵ Whatever the ﬁnal choice would be, the decision to acquire some part of China as a response to the German action at Kiaochow had been taken. In early January, the Chinese agreed to the long-term lease of Kiaochow Bay and the transfer of Chinese sovereignty to Germany. In an exchange of notes on 4 January they made an additional concession in the form of a c. 30 miles (50 kilometres) wide zone of special German inﬂuence with the bay at its centre.¹⁰⁶ To preserve his ‘policy of complete freedom of action’, the new German foreign minister Bernhard von Bülow decided against directly notifying the Powers of the Sino-German agreement. This caused further uncertainty, and forced British diplomacy to rely on more or less informed guesswork. The full text of the Kiaochow convention of 6 March 1898 was, in fact, never communicated by Berlin.¹⁰⁷ ¹⁰² Tels. Salisbury to MacDonald (nos. 76 and 77), 28 and 31 Dec. 1897, FO 17/1314. ¹⁰³ Min. Salisbury, n.d. [24? Nov. 1897], FO 17/1314; note Lansdowne to Salisbury, 29 Dec. 1897, Salisbury MSS, 3M/E/ Lansdowne (1897–9); A. N. Porter, ‘Lord Salisbury, Foreign Policy and Domestic Finance, 1860–1900’, Salisbury: The Man and His Policies, ed. R. Blake and H. Cecil (London, 1987), 155–9. ¹⁰⁴ Goschen to Salisbury (private), 2 Jan. 1898, Salisbury MSS, 3M/E/Goschen (1897–8); see A. D. Elliot, The Life of George Joachim Goschen, First Viscount Goschen, 1831–1907 (2 vols., London, 1911) ii, 209–10. ¹⁰⁵ Tel. MacDonald to Salisbury (no. 9), 5 Jan. 1898, FO 17/1340; Curzon to Salisbury (private), 27 Dec. 1897, Salisbury MSS, 3M/E.1/110. ¹⁰⁶ Lascelles to Salisbury (no. 8), 5 Jan. 1898, FO 64/1437; tel. Bülow to Hatzfeldt (no. 3), GP xiv/1, no. 3747. ¹⁰⁷ Tels. MacDonald to Salisbury (nos. 12 and 22), 3 and 5 Jan. 1898, FO 17/1340; Bülow to Hatzfeldt (no. 42), 8 Jan. 1898, GP xiv/1, no. 3748. The full German text was obtained only in 1906, Carnegie to Grey (no. 261), 11 June 1906, FO 371/432/25894.

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The secrecy surrounding the negotiations and Germany’s use of brute force were objectionable to Salisbury. Still, he was a pragmatist. Although he had decided that some countermove on the part of Britain was now necessary, he continued to assure the Germans that London would not oppose the acquisition of Kiaochow.¹⁰⁸ Salisbury hoped to gain time. He was desirous not to be seen to follow the German lead and to embark on a ‘policy of grab’. Instead, he preferred the Russians to play that role. Action on the earlier decision to acquire a Chinese port was postponed. That other Powers would follow where the Kaiser had led seemed beyond doubt; as Hart observed: ‘[the] German action simply drives me wild—it is so high-handed and opposed to all that’s right, and it is so likely to attract imitation.’¹⁰⁹ There was an additional complication at the end of 1897, for the Kiaochow crisis disrupted ongoing negotiations between the Chinese government and the Anglo-German HSBC-DAB banking group for the third portion of the war indemnity of some £16 million. The talks had already been complicated by the banks’ demand for greater control of the likin and the salt gabelle on which the loan was to be secured. However, on 22 December MacDonald reported that a Russian loan had been arranged in return for an exclusive Russian railway monopoly in northern China. This was a Chinese negotiating ploy to extract more favourable offers. Nevertheless, following Russia’s move on Port Arthur, a Russian indemnity loan, if realized and secured against the northern railways, had serious implications. For the Chancellor of the Exchequer, Sir Michael Hicks Beach, the loan issue was part of a wider question, the long-term future of China’s ﬁnances. Financial assistance had to be part of ‘a much more deﬁnite and stronger policy’ towards China. Ideally, this should be pursued ‘in concert with Russia—and if not, I doubt whether we are strong enough to carry it out alone’. In so far as the third indemnity loan was concerned, Beach preferred a government loan in return for commercial concessions; ‘and I should do it (like the Suez Canal shares) with the utmost secrecy and not through Cameron and his [HSBC] bank’.¹¹⁰ Salisbury himself was not opposed to acting ‘in concert with Russia’. During his last spell in ofﬁce he became increasingly convinced of the need to improve

¹⁰⁸ Salisbury to Lascelles (no. 14), 12 Jan. 1898, FO 64/1436; tel. Hatzfeldt to Bülow (no. 7), 12 Jan. 1898, GP xiv/1, no. 3750. ¹⁰⁹ Hart to Campbell, 7 Jan. 1898, IG ii, no. 1092. ¹¹⁰ Beach to Salisbury (conﬁdential), 26 Dec. 1897, Hicks Beach MSS, PCC/34; Edwards, Finance, 21–2.

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relations with Russia: ‘But it is an object to be wished for and approached as opportunity offers.’¹¹¹ The third indemnity loan might be just such an opportunity. Accordingly, Salisbury wired to MacDonald the suggestion of a joint Anglo-Russian loan. Such an approach to Russia made sense also in light of O’Conor’s report that, under Witte’s guidance, Russian policy in the Far East aimed at the paciﬁc penetration of northern China, whilst ostensibly maintaining the integrity of the Celestial Empire as a whole. The ambassador, Sanderson, as well as Hart were anxious for a rapprochement with Russia.¹¹² This was also supported by MacDonald, who advised Bertie privately that ‘the time has come when if possible we should come to an understanding with Russia as to our general policy out here. It would be preferable if we could work together, and I think this is feasible; but, if not, let us shape our policy accordingly.’¹¹³ By early January 1898, then, British diplomacy in the Far East had reached a crucial juncture, and a Cabinet decision was required as to ‘whether we ought to try to go with Russia, or go on without, which means against her’. Lest he ‘be tripped up again’, as during the Armenian massacres in 1895, Salisbury sought a consensus in the Cabinet. The issue of a joint Anglo-Russian China loan was incidental to the central strategic problem of British policy at the close of the nineteenth century: relations with Russia within the wider context of Great Power diplomacy. A rapprochement between London and St Petersburg, through ﬁnancial cooperation in China, would alter the constellation of the Powers, as Salisbury explained to Balfour before the Cabinet meeting: ‘Of course it may be that the negotiations for the loan will break down, & in that case this Russian question will not arise. But the issue is an important one because if we succeed in working with Russia it will produce some change in the grouping of the Powers in Europe.’ This went to the very heart of Britain’s isolation. This is not to suggest that Salisbury contemplated an alliance with Russia in the full sense of the word. But equally clearly, and contrary to previous historical interpretations, he was prepared for a major reorientation of British policy that went beyond a purely regional arrangement with Russia. Given the dual nature of Russia’s impact on British interests, an understanding with St Petersburg could never be conﬁned to the geostrategic periphery. Whether a ¹¹¹ Salisbury to Iwan-Muller (conﬁdential), 31 Aug. 1896, BD vi, app. IV; see T. G. Otte, ‘ “Floating Downstream”: Lord Salisbury and British Foreign Policy, 1878–1902’, in idem (ed.), The Makers of British Foreign Policy: From Pitt to Thatcher (London and New York, 2002), 114–19. ¹¹² Tel. Salisbury to MacDonald (secret), 31 Dec. 1897, CAB 37/46/29; O’Conor to Salisbury (no. 12, conﬁdential), 12 Jan. 1898, FO 65/1552. A point missed by Edwards, Finance, 22–3. ¹¹³ Tel. MacDonald to Bertie (private), 16 Jan. 1898, FO 17/1340.

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rapprochement with Russia was possible at all, depended on British acquiescence in Russia’s acquisition of Port Arthur; that was ‘the real crux of the matter’.¹¹⁴ Against Salisbury’s wishes, the Cabinet decided to continue temporizing. The ministers did not object to Beach’s suggestion of a government loan, but left the details to be ﬁnalized by Salisbury and the chancellor. Signiﬁcantly, in view of the Cabinet discussions in March, a ‘difference of opinion’ regarding relations with Russia re-emerged, with Chamberlain on the one side, and Goschen and Beach on the other. The latter were willing to admit Russia to the loan negotiations, whereas Chamberlain rejected all attempts at conciliating her.¹¹⁵ No ﬁrm decision was come to about a possible approach to the US, though Sir Julian Pauncefote, the ambassador at Washington, was to be instructed to take soundings there. Chamberlain himself never alluded to this ‘difference of opinion’. Indeed, in a private conversation with Staal, he had intimated his favouring ‘une entente avec la Russie et par ricochet avec la France’. At any rate, at the end of the ﬁrst Cabinet meeting of 1898 he suggested that the United States government be invited to join with Britain and Japan ‘in insisting that all concessions taken by or made to any other Power shall be shared with all other Powers, i.e. no exclusive rights to be allowed’. If this approach failed, it was understood, ‘that we shall ask for something for ourselves to balance Kiao-Chow’.¹¹⁶ At this point three avenues lay open before Salisbury: he could follow MacDonald’s advice to demand territorial compensation from China, and so curry favour with an expectant public at home; he could seek an arrangement with Russia, based on a modus vivendi in East Asia, but with clearly understood wider international ramiﬁcations; or he could opt for an ‘open door’ policy in conjunction with the United States. Some, though not all, of these options were incompatible; all entailed risks. Salisbury’s preferred choice was an arrangement with Russia. The circumstances were not altogether inauspicious. Staal, who for some time had favoured an Anglo-Russian détente, deprecated that the two Powers had only one thing in common in Asia: ‘leur méﬁance ¹¹⁴ Salisbury to Balfour, 6 Jan. 1898, Whittinghame Muniment MSS, GD 433/2/39. This key document is given here for the ﬁrst time in scholarly literature. For Salisbury’s differences with the Cabinet in 1895, see T. G. Otte, ‘A Question of Leadership: Lord Salisbury, the Unionist Cabinet and Foreign Policy Making, 1895–1900’, CBH xiv, 4 (2000), 7–8. ¹¹⁵ Devonshire to James, 11 Jan. 1898, James of Hereford MSS, Herefordshire CRO, M45/937. Fortunately for the historian, Salisbury’s private secretary had omitted to inform James of the Cabinet—hence the letters from Chamberlain and Devonshire; also Lord Askwith, Lord James of Hereford (London, 1930), 254–6. ¹¹⁶ Quotes from Staal to Muravev (conﬁdentiel ), 10/22 Dec. 1897, SC ii, 358; Chamberlain to James (secret), 11 Jan. 1898, James of Hereford MSS, M45/936.

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mutuelle’.¹¹⁷ The key lay in St Petersburg, however. As O’Conor’s attempt to fathom Russian policy in early January had shown, there was considerable irritation with Germany in Russian circles. It even united Witte and Muravev.¹¹⁸ The ongoing tug-of-war over the indemnity loan had the potential to wreck any diplomatic initiative to improve relations with St Petersburg. Once more ﬁnance was a political tool, as Hicks Beach observed: the contemplated £12 million British loan could not be ‘recommend[ed] . . . as a ﬁnancial transaction’, but solely ‘on political grounds’. It was clear that if Russia and France were to guarantee the indemnity loan, ‘[i]t would . . . be considered a diplomatic check to us’. On the one hand, if the loan were concluded, ‘[i]t will seriously irritate Russia and France—their response may very likely be the seizure of Port Arthur or Hainan, or some other act of violence which the Chinese will be impotent to resist.’¹¹⁹ The Russian option, then, required careful steering. The loan was not to be sacriﬁced on the altar of Anglo-Russian amity; yet nor should it prevent an agreement. Whatever the outcome of the loan talks, MacDonald and Salisbury were anxious that a British subject succeeded Hart at the ICMCS.¹²⁰ The tussle over the loan very nearly produced a diplomatic spat. Yielding to vigorous Russian and French pressure, Li rejected the British loan offer on 12 January.¹²¹ Five days later, in a widely publicized speech to the Swansea Chamber of Commerce, Beach declared that China was not ‘a place for conquest or acquisition by any European or other Power’. Chinese commerce had to be kept open to all comers, ‘and the government were absolutely determined, at whatever cost, even—and he wished to speak plainly—if necessary, at the cost of war that that door should not be shut’.¹²² Beach’s ‘coup de cannon’ alarmed the French and Russian ambassadors in London. Sanderson tried to assuage Staal’s fears, but still combined this with a warning: ‘I told Staal that Hicks Beach had a sort of recognized privilege of blurting out disagreeable sentences— but that I did not see why any particular Gov[ernmen]t should try to ﬁt the cap ¹¹⁷ Staal to Muravev, 7/19 Jan. 1898, SC ii, 365; see Baron R. R. Rosen, Forty Years in Diplomacy (2 vols., London, 1922) i, 104. ¹¹⁸ Tel. O’Conor to Salisbury (no. 12, secret), 23 Jan. 1898, BD i, no. 8; tel. Vauvineux to Hanotaux (no. 324), 5 Dec. 1897, DDF (1) xiii, no. 374; see also Spring-Rice to Villiers (private), 26 Dec. 1897, Villiers MSS, FO 800/23. ¹¹⁹ Hicks Beach to Salisbury, 23 Jan. 1898, Hicks Beach MSS, PCC/34; Lady V. Hicks Beach, Life of Sir Michael Hicks Beach, Earl St. Aldwyn (2 vols., London, 1932) ii, 58–9. ¹²⁰ Tels. MacDonald to Salisbury (private) and vice versa, both 4 Jan. 1898, Salisbury MSS, 3M/A/106/8; tel. Salisbury to MacDonald (no. 72), 23 Dec. 1897, FO 17/1314. ¹²¹ Rothschild to Bertie (private and conﬁdential), 17 Jan. 1898, Bertie MSS, Add.MSS. 63013; see Stuers to Beaufort, 10 Jan. 1898, BBBP (2) vi, no. 376. ¹²² The Times (18 Jan. 1898); see T. G. Otte, ‘ “Avenge England’s Dishonour”: Parliament, Byelections and Foreign Policy in 1898’, EHR cxxi, 491 (2006), 6–7.

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to its head unless it intended to exclude British trade from China.’¹²³ The episode demonstrated the serious obstacles in the path of achieving an arrangement with Russia, though Sanderson’s warning to Staal also made clear that Salisbury was not seeking a Russian agreement at any price. There was some opposition at the Foreign Ofﬁce to the notion of an AngloRussian rapprochement. Bertie, who had established an increasingly inﬂuential position for himself, remained convinced that Russia had territorial ambitions on the Liaotung Peninsula. Germany’s seizure of a coaling station in China, he observed to Salisbury, was her reward for joining the anti-Japanese triplice of 1895. However, either owing to a misunderstanding or to German duplicity, the occupation of Kiaochow had not been part of the original deal. The Russians now felt bound by the Tsar’s non-speciﬁc promise to the Kaiser, and so raised no objection, hoping instead that the British would do so, ‘and are disappointed that we have not done so’.¹²⁴ Ignoring Bertie’s warning of Russia’s continued expansionist aspirations in East Asia, Salisbury decided to pursue the Russian option. Witte’s grievances against Germany seemed to tilt the balance of probability in favour of success. He also knew that international problems could not be settled discretely; that they were interlocked; and that any attempt to solve one problem would affect other questions. Tensions with France over the partition of West Africa had been mounting in the course of 1897.¹²⁵ With Kitchener marching up the River Nile a confrontation with France in Africa was a distinct possibility. This was not the time to start a quarrel with France’s ally. Instead, O’Conor should suggest some form of an understanding; and Salisbury was quite prepared to make some concessions: ‘We would go far to further Russian commercial objects in the North, if we could regard her as willing to work with us.’¹²⁶ Salisbury hoped to combine the diplomatic beneﬁts of an Anglo-Russian understanding with most of the advantages that would accrue from a self-negating ‘open-door’ policy, without having to rely on the as yet unproven United States. O’Conor’s talks at St Petersburg seemed to make smooth progress. Muravev proved surprisingly amenable to the idea of a working arrangement which ¹²³ Sanderson to O’Conor (private), 19 Jan. 1898, O’Conor MSS, OCON 6/1/15; see Courcel to Hanotaux (no. 22), 20 Jan. 1898, DDF (1) xiv, no. 22; and Staal to Muravev, 21 Jan./1 Feb. 1898, SC ii, 369–70. ¹²⁴ Min. Bertie, 17 Jan. 1898, Bertie MSS, Add.MSS. 63013; see Neilson, Last Tsar, 187. ¹²⁵ Salisbury to Selborne (private), 26 Aug. 1897, Selborne MSS, Bodl., MS Selborne 5; to Monson (private), 12 Feb. 1898, Monson MSS, Bodl., MS.Eng.hist.c.594. ¹²⁶ Tel. Salisbury to O’Conor (no. 7, secret), 17 Jan. 1898, BD i, no. 5; Grenville, Lord Salisbury, 136–7.

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‘extend[ed] to the general area of our respective interests’; and welcomed ‘any proposal which would bring about a closer understanding (entente)’ with Britain. It seemed clear, however, that Muravev was largely interested in having Russia’s sphere of inﬂuence in northern China conﬁrmed. The Russian foreign minister also did not hide the fact that Russia’s own designs on Kiaochow had been frustrated by Germany.¹²⁷ This did not bode well. Indeed, when O’Conor eventually met with Witte on 22 January, the Russian ﬁnance minister also enquired as to Britain’s attitude ‘if Russia’s occupation of Port Arthur became permanent? The force of circumstances might make a temporary occupation of long duration.’ Witte seemed to welcome an agreement on the basis of a mutual recognition of exclusive spheres of inﬂuence which would help to keep Germany in check. However, as O’Conor was not slow to realize, Witte was ‘nervous in regard to an Anglo-Japanese alliance’.¹²⁸ Witte’s idea of delimiting respective spheres of inﬂuence went further than Salisbury wished to go. Spheres of foreign inﬂuence, he warned Staal, would inaugurate China’s partition. Staal’s reply, that Russian inﬂuence in areas coterminous with the Sino-Russian frontier was ‘un fait géographique’ was unanswerable.¹²⁹ It highlighted the practical problems involved in concluding an Anglo-Russian arrangement. Yet, the notion of a mutual recognition of spheres of inﬂuence was strongly supported by MacDonald. Such a neat solution had obvious attractions to his military mind; and he urged that an agreement with Russia ‘should be on the understanding that she recognizes our sphere of inﬂuence over the Yangtze or any other region’.¹³⁰ Salisbury now clariﬁed his position. He envisaged an agreement with Russia concerning China and Turkey, each of which had fallen under the sway of foreign Powers, and where ‘Russia and England are constantly opposed, neutralizing each other’s efforts much more frequently than the real antagonism of their interests would justify’. The proposed understanding was aimed at establishing some kind of détente in relations with Russia: ‘We aim at no partition of territory, but only a partition of preponderance.’¹³¹ O’Conor remained optimistic about the chances of success. Whatever chances there were, these began to diminish, for at the end of January the Tsar’s ministers, especially Muravev and the Navy and Army High Commands, prevailed over Witte, and ¹²⁷ Tel. O’Conor to Salisbury (no. 10, secret), and despatch (no. 24), both 20 Jan. 1898, BD i, nos. 6–7. ¹²⁸ Tel. O’Conor to Salisbury (no. 12, secret), 23 Jan. 1898, ibid., no. 8. ¹²⁹ Tel. Courcel to Hanotaux (no. 10, conﬁdentiel), 23 Jan. 1898, DDF (1) xiv, no. 25. ¹³⁰ Tel. MacDonald to Salisbury (no. 30), 29 Jan. 1898, FO 17/1340; also memo. Gérard, 12 Feb. 1898, DDF (1) xiv, no. 50. ¹³¹ Tel. Salisbury to O’Conor (no. 22, secret), 25 Jan. 1898, BD i, no. 9.

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pushed through the permanent occupation of Port Arthur and Talienwan. Moreover, while O’Conor’s talks at St Petersburg had made progress, the Russians were still attempting to sabotage MacDonald’s loan negotiations. Salisbury was not yet prepared to concede defeat in the loan battle. MacDonald was instructed to warn the Tsungli Yamên that, if a Russian loan were agreed, Britain would demand counter-concessions.¹³² This was in line with previous practice. Nevertheless, since the German occupation of Kiaochow and the Russian de facto occupation of Port Arthur, the situation in the Far East had changed; and the third indemnity loan was not merely a complicating factor. It had an almost symbolic function: if China refused Britain’s loan offer, but accepted the far less favourable Russian loan, ‘our position in regard to Russia in China will be one of absolute effacement’.¹³³ This was also Chamberlain’s view; only his conﬁdence in Salisbury’s ability to avert such a situation was rapidly diminishing. ‘Grave trouble is impending upon the Government if we do not adopt a more decided attitude in regard to China’, he warned. Russia’s likely acquisition of Port Arthur and her efforts to block a British China loan were but the latest phase in Russia’s ongoing expansionism, and particularly inimical to British interests. ‘If matters remain as they are our prestige will be gone and our trade will follow. I would not give a year’s life to the Government under such conditions.’ The Colonial Secretary proposed a concerted effort with the United States and Germany to force the opening of all foreign occupied ports in China to all trade, to force China to open Nanking and other ports, and to liberalize internal navigation; and, ﬁnally, that if Russia refuses these terms we should summon her ﬂeet to leave Port Arthur and make her go if necessary. I dare say this line is much too strong a line for the Cabinet, but if we do not do something and that quickly she shall have a bad quarter of an hour when Parliament meets.¹³⁴

The prospect of a Russian understanding and a solution to the loan question were now receding. In the latest round of talks in the Russian capital, Muravev feigned ignorance of the details of the loan. His deputy, Count Vladimir ¹³² Tel. Salisbury to MacDonald (no. 23), 28 Jan. 1898, FO 17/1339; A. Malozemoff, Russian Far Eastern Policy, 1881–1904 (Berkeley and Los Angeles, 1958), 100–10. ¹³³ Salisbury to Hicks Beach, 29 Jan. 1898, Hicks Beach MSS, PCC/69; Neilson, Last Tsar, 189. ¹³⁴ Chamberlain to Balfour (secret), 3 Feb. 1898, Chamberlain MSS, JC 5/5/70. Chamberlain’s prediction of parliamentary problems was quite accurate, see Otte, ‘ “Avenge England’s Dishonour” ’ 397–400.

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Nikolaevich Lamsdorff, then suggested dividing the loan between Russia and Britain. More disturbingly, Muravev, who had gained the upper hand over Witte in the internal power struggle, hinted at Russia’s interest in deﬁning a Russian sphere in Persia and China.¹³⁵ That notion, with its implicit abandoning of Tehran to Russian preponderance, had yet to gain acceptance in British political circles, and Salisbury was not prepared to entertain this. Russian efforts at sabotaging MacDonald’s loan negotiations with Li, he informed O’Conor, were ‘very hostile and insulting’; they stood in sharp contrast to the friendly assurances given by the Tsar himself. MacDonald’s remonstrances at Peking forced Li to reject the Russian loan offers, and to give an undertaking not to alienate the Yangtze Valley and to reserve the superintendence of the ICMCS for a British subject.¹³⁶ Under these circumstances, the last indemnity loan ought to have lost its overall political signiﬁcance, but it did not do so for Salisbury. The Prime Minister grew increasingly pessimistic about the chances of an Anglo-Russian understanding. ‘We have had some interchange of friendly language at St. Petersburg, but they are insincere and their language is ambiguous’, he wired to MacDonald. A joint loan with Russia was, thus, no longer acceptable to him.¹³⁷ Sanderson vacillated between gloom and optimism: ‘I am not too sanguine of our coming to much of an agreement with Russia, but if we can only do something to diminish the instinctive feeling that our interests are necessarily opposed it will be an advance.’¹³⁸ O’Conor, by contrast, was buoyed by Lamsdorff ’s assurances that Tsar Nicholas was favourably disposed towards ‘une entente destinée à prévenir tout froissement et malentendu’ between the two countries in regions where their interests hitherto tended to clash. To the ambassador’s mind ‘the Emperor’s approval marks an important stage in the negotiations’.¹³⁹ For O’Conor the third indemnity loan had never been a primary consideration. Salisbury himself had intimated that the approach to Russia was meant to go ‘over & above the China question’. Clearly, he had expected ‘decided advantages’ there from a Russian agreement. Nevertheless, as O’Conor told Lascelles, Salisbury ¹³⁵ Tels. O’Conor to Salisbury (nos. 17, secret, and 25), 3 and 5 Feb. 1898, BD i, nos. 11 and 13; see memo. Drummond Wolff (secret and conﬁdential), 2 Apr. 1898, Balfour MSS, Add.MSS. 49746. ¹³⁶ Tel. MacDonald to Salisbury (no. 69), 10 Mar. 1898, FO 17/1340; tel. Salisbury to O’Conor (no. 36, secret), 8 Feb. 1898, BD i, no. 14; see Young, British Policy, 62–3. ¹³⁷ Tel. Salisbury to MacDonald (no. 34, secret), 11 Feb. 1898, BD i, no.15. ¹³⁸ Sanderson to O’Conor (private), 2 Feb. 1898, O’Conor MSS, OCON 6/1/15. ¹³⁹ Note Lamsdorff to O’Conor, 10/22 Jan. 1898, ibid., OCON 6/1/4; tel. O’Conor to Salisbury (no. 34, secret), 22 Feb. 1898, BD i, no. 20.

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had entertained the hope of some form ‘of an alliance with Russia (& this he told me himself ) thereby ending our isolation in Europe’. O’Conor was by no means opposed to this, but noted that the talks should not have commenced ‘unless we were resolved to go till we at all events came to an irremovable obstacle’.¹⁴⁰ Some allowance ought to be made for O’Conor’s loose usage of the term ‘alliance’. Even so, the ambassador’s evidence conﬁrms the earlier assertion that Salisbury’s plans were more far-reaching than previous historians have allowed. The Chinese loan was an unlikely irremovable obstacle, especially since Li had begun negotiations with the Anglo-German HSBC-led banking consortium, which duly resulted in the loan agreement of 1 March. It helped to buttress Britain’s position in China. As anticipated by Bertie, and despite Beach’s earlier reservations, the HSBC had performed a useful function in blocking Russian efforts to establish ﬁnancial and political control over China.¹⁴¹ To that extent O’Conor’s analysis was cogent enough. Nevertheless, Salisbury was now casting about for a pretext to abort the talks, and O’Conor was battling against the odds. On 19 February, the day Li concluded a preliminary loan agreement with the Anglo-German group, he elicited from Lamsdorff an admission that among the original Russian loan conditions was a demand for a twenty year lease of Talienwan and Port Arthur; and that, moreover, ‘they intended to hold these ports at any cost’.¹⁴² This latest development dominated the Cabinet meeting of 23 February. The ministers accepted as inevitable Russia’s eventual acquisition of the two Liaotung ports. Some ministers, Balfour concluded, ‘looked with no disfavour upon such course, for it opens ports which are now closed, and it makes it practically impossible for the French, if they have any aggressive designs on Hainan, to do more than adopt a similar policy of leasing, combined with Free Trade’. In an additional effort to safeguard existing treaty rights, the Cabinet also decided to act on Chamberlain’s proposal of 11 January to explore the possibility of an Anglo-American agreement ‘to prevent the littoral of China being ceded piece-meal to other Powers’ or, failing that, to defend existing commercial rights.¹⁴³ This suggested a slight change of emphasis. Hitherto, ¹⁴⁰ O’Conor to Lascelles (private), 23 Feb. 1898, Lascelles MSS, FO 800/6. ¹⁴¹ Staal to Muravev (no. 11), 18 Feb./2 Mar. 1898, SC ii, 372; Hou, Foreign Investments, 47. ¹⁴² Tel. O’Conor to Salisbury (no. 32, secret), 19 Feb. 1898, BD i, no. 18. Staal had earlier warned Muravev that such a step would prevent a détente, see Staal to Muravev, 21 Jan./2 Mar. 1898, SC ii, 371. ¹⁴³ Balfour to Goschen (private), 26 Feb. 1898, Balfour MSS, Add.MSS. 49706. Neilson’s statement, Last Tsar, 193, that Salisbury was ill and abroad is incorrect. He did not leave for Beaulieu in

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Salisbury had hoped to obtain a Russian agreement that would safeguard Britain’s wider strategic interests as well as her commercial rights in China. Involving the United States would further complicate O’Conor’s talks. With a Russian agreement an increasingly unlikely proposition, the American option became more attractive; as Balfour explained to Goschen, ‘our desire was to combine the policy of a friendly understanding with Russia with that of a defensive arrangement with the U.S., and as Russia has proposed nothing inconsistent with that arrangement, there seems no reason why the two policies should not properly be run together’.¹⁴⁴ Balfour’s explanation was somewhat disingenuous, for it was evident that little could be achieved directly with Russia. British foreign policy now stalled. Matters were not helped by Salisbury’s illness. As Sanderson complained to O’Conor: ‘we have for the moment to get on as we can under Balfour’s superintendence. I am consequently overwhelmed.’ The Prime Minister ‘was nursed up and kept quiet’, so that he could preside over the now very brief Cabinet meetings in March.¹⁴⁵ Moreover, Balfour, in his role as Salisbury’s deputy, seemed reluctant to approach Washington until the Russians had declared their hand, thereby incidentally conﬁrming the incompatibility of the Russian and American options. At St Petersburg, meanwhile, Lamsdorff informed O’Conor that the conclusion of the Anglo-German private loan combined with Li’s assurances respecting the Yangtze and Hart’s succession ‘had made an unfortunate impression on the Emperor’; ‘the discussion of the broader question’, therefore, was in abeyance. Under these circumstances, Sanderson concluded, ‘the prospects of the entente making progress are checked for the moment’.¹⁴⁶ This was also O’Conor’s view: ‘We are in face of a very serious state of things.’ Britain could not afford to quarrel with the three coercive Powers of 1895 to uphold the integrity of China; and he conceded that ‘nothing short of war would stop Russian ambitions in the Liaotung Peninsula’. He suggested concentrating on the protection of British trading interests in China by acquiring a naval station ‘in Chusan & Silver Island, & if France moves on Hainan promptly take all we want at Hongkong, & possibly also Port Hamilton’. southern France until Saturday, 26 March, see below, Ch. 3, 139 and 155; also Courcel to Hanotaux (no. 160), 22 Mar. 1898, DDF (1) xiv, no. 98. ¹⁴⁴ Balfour to Goschen (private), 26 Feb. 1898, Balfour MSS, Add.MSS. 49706. ¹⁴⁵ Sanderson to O’Conor (private), 2 and 17 Mar. 1898, O’Conor MSS, OCON 6/1/15. ¹⁴⁶ Quotes from O’Conor to Salisbury (no. 71, secret), 3 Mar. 1898, BD i, no. 22; and Sanderson to O’Conor (private), 9 Mar. 1898, O’Conor MSS, OCON 6/1/15.

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Britain would thus be better placed to project her naval power in the region: ‘We shall then treat with the other Powers on even terms.’ Like other British diplomats and politicians, the former minister to China was scathing about the ability or willingness of the Chinese leadership to reform: ‘[China] had endless opportunities to harken to our advice but she preferred the hug of the bear & she must now take the consequences.’ As for relations with Russia, though gloomy about the immediate prospects of his still ongoing negotiations, O’Conor was sanguine: ‘At heart Russia is in a mortal funk of our Fleet & not at all easy about Japan & we have a big card in our hand which we must not give up.’¹⁴⁷ It was only when the desired rapprochement with Russia failed to materialize, that Balfour approached Washington with a view to formulating some form of joint Asian policy. Pauncefote was to enquire whether the McKinley administration would join Britain ‘in opposing any action on the part of foreign powers tending to restrict the opening of China to the commerce of all nations’ through the occupation or leasing of Chinese territory.¹⁴⁸ That nearly two months were allowed to lapse before the approach to the United States was made is indicative of Salisbury’s preference for an agreement with Russia. The proposal to McKinley, if accepted, would have made impossible the working arrangement with Russia that Salisbury had hoped for; it would also have made it more difﬁcult, though not impossible, to acquire Chinese territory for Britain herself. Nevertheless, in light of the well-known slowness with which American diplomacy still tended to move, the initiative was almost bound to fail; all the more so since after the ﬁreworks in Havanna harbour a Spanish–American conﬂict was now looming. Unsurprisingly, with his mind focused on war preparations, McKinley gave an evasive reply to Pauncefote’s enquiry.¹⁴⁹ While the talks in Washington were in suspense, the Cabinet convened on 14 March to discuss China. Uncertainty as to the likely American response made for caution. On the other hand, the shape of future relations with Russia was now more clearly discernible; and as regarded Germany the situation had also become clearer. Throughout February and early March, while O’Conor ¹⁴⁷ O’Conor to Bertie (private), 10 Mar. 1898, Bertie MSS, Add.MSS. 63013; Neilson, Last Tsar, 192. ¹⁴⁸ Tel. Salisbury to Pauncefote (no. 18, very conﬁdential), 7 Mar. 1898, FO 5/2364; Grenville, Lord Salisbury, 145. ¹⁴⁹ Tel. Pauncefote to Salisbury (no. 13, conﬁdential), 8 Mar. 1898, FO 5/2365. Pauncefote’s visit to the White House did not go undetected, see tel. Cambon to Hanotaux (no. 23), 10 Mar. 1898, DDF (1) xiv, no. 77.

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pursued the elusive goal of a Russian agreement, it emerged that German ambitions were not conﬁned to the special zone around Kiaochow Bay, but extended to the whole of Shantung province. As Heyking explained to MacDonald, ‘commercially Shantung was intended to be a German province’. Although Berlin refuted Heyking’s indiscreet statement, an argument between him and MacDonald over railway concessions in that province in early March and the euphoric reaction of the German semi-ofﬁcial press to the signing of the Kiaochow convention convinced British diplomats that Berlin had every intention of turning Shantung into an exclusive zone. Henry Bax-Ironside, the First Secretary at the Peking legation, predicted that the Germans ‘will establish an “imperium in imperio”, and, should they meet with any governmental difﬁculties in the area they purpose occupying, the same high-handed methods already employed will continue to be effectively used, in order to coerce the weak Government in Peking’.¹⁵⁰ This was also Curzon’s view: ‘The Germans are now asserting a complete monopoly of Shantung’; and he predicted Kiaochow’s closure to foreign trade.¹⁵¹ German conduct during the crisis had given fresh fuel to the growing suspicions of Germany. However, it also threw into sharper relief Britain’s wider strategic problems, as Bertie candidly explained to Lascelles: The Germans as regards Shantung have lied with their customary awkwardness. I live in hope that we may succeed in putting them into the cart. I am convinced that if we show that we mean business we shall have very little trouble with our big European friends. Unfortunately France, Russia & Germany have got it into their heads that we shall never stand up to one First Class Power much less to two or three even if we had with us little Japan. It is difﬁcult to remove this idea especially when we do our best to encourage it.¹⁵²

Bertie’s concluding remark reﬂected the growing unease among the younger diplomats and politicians at Britain’s international isolation and foreign perceptions of British weakness. An opportunity to break the impasse presented itself at the end of February in the form of an unsolicited Chinese offer of a lease of Weihaiwei.¹⁵³ This was ¹⁵⁰ Memo. Bax-Ironside, n.d. [26 Feb. 1898], FO 17/1333; tel. Heyking to Auswärtiges Amt (no. 46), 27 Feb. 1898, KDGP, MSS 705.K13/1. ¹⁵¹ Curzon to Spring-Rice (private), 20 Feb. 1898, Spring-Rice MSS, CASR I/28. ¹⁵² Bertie to Lascelles (private), 16 Mar. 1898, FO 64/1437. ¹⁵³ Tel. MacDonald to Salisbury (separate and secret), 25 Feb. 1898, BD i, no. 25; R. S. Yorke, ‘Wei-hai-Wei: Our Latest Leasehold Possession; Being a Recollection of Wei-hai-Wei, with Suggestions for a Deﬁnite Policy in the Far East’, FR lxiv, 379 (1898), 38–41; E. Z. Sun, ‘The Lease of Wei-hai-Wei’, PHR xix, 3 (1950), 278–9.

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no gift of love. The Tsungli Yamên expected a British demand for compensation for the German and Russian gains. By offering Weihaiwei the Chinese ministers hoped to prevent a British occupation of strategic points along the Yangtze River. On the other hand, the lease of Weihaiwei to Britain would be a check on Russia and Germany. Balfour and MacDonald agreed that with the establishment of Russia at Port Arthur and Talienwan and the German occupation of Kiaochow ‘the inﬂuence of those Powers over the Government of Peking will be so increased to the detriment of [Britain] that it seems desirable for us to make some countermove’. MacDonald argued that ‘[b]y occupying Weihai-Wei we should strike a death blow at [German plans to dominate Shantung] and incur her hostility. On the other hand we should acquire a foothold in the North, the only remaining port—second to none from a naval point of view. . . . [t]here can be little doubt that [Germany] intends to occupy it if Japan retires.’¹⁵⁴ This last point added greater urgency to ﬁnding a new China policy. ‘The effect of [a German takeover of Weihaiwei] we think would be very bad’, MacDonald was informed on 12 March. But given the likely ﬁnancial burden involved, Britain had no wish for special rights there. An agreement concerning Chusan seemed preferable, but was also dependent upon Russia’s ultimate ambitions in the Liaotung Peninsula.¹⁵⁵ Still, British policy was gradually edging towards accepting the need for a territorial counterpoise to Russia and Germany in China. But the ﬁnal decision still rested with the altogether hesitant Cabinet. In Salisbury’s absence, the Cabinet meeting on 14 March took place against the backdrop of a vivid public debate on Far Eastern affairs. Press speculation that Russia would remain at Port Arthur, Staal noted with concern, had raised ‘le plus vive émotion’.¹⁵⁶ The state of public opinion increased the pressure on the ministers to agree on a deﬁnite course of policy; and yet they failed to do so. The ministers understood that a speedy decision was of the essence. But any decision involved risks. If they chose not to accept the offer of Weihaiwei, northern China might soon be exposed to further Russian and German pressure to the detriment of British interests. Then again, no one could predict ¹⁵⁴ Balfour to MacDonald, 7 Mar.1898, FO 17/1338; tel. MacDonald to Salisbury (no. 71), 10 Mar. 1898, FO 17/1340; see Sun, ‘Lease’, 280–2. ¹⁵⁵ Tel. Salisbury to MacDonald (no. 68), 12 Mar. 1898, FO 17/1338. ¹⁵⁶ Staal to Muravev (no. 18), 4/14 Mar. 1898, SC ii, 374; see Chirol to Morrison, 24 Feb. 1898, GEM i, no. 26; Alice Blanche Balfour diary, 15 Mar. 1898, Whittinghame Muniment MSS, GD 433/2/224.

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what the Russian reaction would be if Britain did obtain that port. Moreover, as Balfour noted, [w]hat will be the effect of the new policy on Germany? Will it provoke a Triple Alliance against us in the Far East? Could we resist the power of such a combination (a) without Japan, (b) with Japan? Could the contest be conﬁned to the Far East? or would it mean a general war? . . . What will be the cost and what the military value of Wei-hai-Wei to us?

Balfour thought it imperative that, whatever the Cabinet’s decision would be, ‘this policy should be initiated before the conclusion of the Russo-Chinese arrangement. This makes an immediate decision absolutely necessary.’ Nevertheless, a decision on this vexing question was postponed. The only positive decision taken was to demand the concession for a railway line from Peking to the Yangtze River at Hankow.¹⁵⁷ Russia’s attempt to obtain the lease of the two Liaotung ports made a speedy decision even more important. Balfour and Salisbury decided to renew efforts in Washington, but the US government was slow to respond.¹⁵⁸ This delay placed Salisbury in the embarrassing position of a supplicant. McKinley’s answer was ﬁnally received on 16 March. The President, though sympathetic to an open trade policy in China, noted that neither occupying Power had as yet declared any intention of excluding foreign trade. Clearly, McKinley was not going to solve Salisbury’s problems for him: ‘He does not see any present reason for the departure of the United States from its traditional policy respecting foreign alliances, and . . . avoiding interference in . . . European complications.’¹⁵⁹ This closed down a further diplomatic option; it had run aground on the rock of American isolationism. It was imperative now to prepare the ground for the acquisition of Chinese territory; all the more so, since on 16 March news ﬁltered through that Russia had ofﬁcially demanded the lease of Port Arthur and Talienwan. On 27 March, an agreement was signed, granting Russia the lease of the two ports and further territorial and railway concessions on the Liaotung Peninsula and in the Shangking province of Manchuria. In vain O’Conor urged Muravev that Russia ought to refrain from pursuing such a course. With a persistence that could not ¹⁵⁷ Min. Balfour, 14 Mar. 1898, Balfour MSS, Add.MSS. 49746; min. Curzon, n.d. [but before Sept. 1898 as initialled GNC], Curzon MSS, MSS.Eur.F.112/368. ¹⁵⁸ Tel. Salisbury to Pauncefote (no. 21, conﬁdential), 15 Mar. 1898, FO 5/2364; see A. E. Campbell, ‘Great Britain and the United States in the Far East, 1895–1903’, HJ i, 2 (1958), 163–4; R. G. Neale, Great Britain and United States Expansion, 1898–1900 (Ann Arbor, 1966), 10–14. ¹⁵⁹ Tel. Pauncefote to Salisbury (no. 18), 16 Mar. 1898, FO 5/2365; see B. Perkins, The Great Rapprochement: England and the United States, 1898–1914 (London, 1969), 211–12.

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quite make up for the inconsistency of his argument Muravev ‘absolutely refused to admit that the principle of the integrity of China . . . was violated by the proposed lease of Port Arthur, nor was the dismemberment of the Chinese Empire thereby threatened’.¹⁶⁰ Muravev’s mendacity over Manchuria and Port Arthur created an unpleasant sensation in London.¹⁶¹ Crucially, Russia’s establishment at Port Arthur also dealt a ﬁnal blow to Salisbury’s half-hearted diplomacy of détente with Russia. Two of the three threads that Salisbury had held in his hand in January had snapped by mid-March. On a more positive note, Russia had now incurred the odium of following the Kaiser’s lead in plundering what appeared to be China’s carcass. The time had come to act on the earlier decision to check the German and Russian bases in northern China. Satow was instructed to make informal enquiries as to Tokyo’s attitude regarding Britain’s takeover of Weihaiwei after its evacuation by the Japanese. Itf told Satow privately that the troops would be withdrawn on payment of the indemnity, and that Japan would welcome the lease of the place to Britain, lest it fell into Russian or German hands. Indeed, Satow reported that in the course of the negotiations for the third indemnity loan the DAB had made enquiries as to whether the Japanese would evacuate Weihaiwei. Tokyo’s interest in involving Britain in North China was obvious: ‘Of course, nothing would please Japan better than to see England and Russia come to blows, and one must take that into account in estimating the probabilities.’¹⁶² Britain’s presence in the Gulf of Pechili would diminish Japan’s potential vulnerability to renewed triplice pressure. Indeed, hedging their bets, the ever cautious Japanese government also made efforts to mend relations with France and Russia which ultimately resulted in the Nishi–Rosen agreement of April 1898. At any rate, O’Conor wired from St Petersburg that a Russian or German attempt to occupy Weihaiwei seemed unlikely.¹⁶³ The Cabinet had now at its disposal all the information the ministers required. At a meeting of an adhoc committee of the cabinet on 22 March a ﬁrst decision was taken. This delay was partly due to Salisbury’s prolonged ¹⁶⁰ Tel. O’Conor to Salisbury, 23 Mar. 1898, O’Conor MSS, OCON 6/1/14; despatches (nos. 99, 112, and 128), 16, 21, and 29 Mar. 1898, FO 65/1553. ¹⁶¹ Memo. Cartwright, 31 Mar. 1898, FO 881/7008. ¹⁶² Satow to Salisbury (private), 23 Mar. 1898, Salisbury MSS, 3M/A/126/37; and (no. 38), 23 Mar. 1898, FO 46/496; also Sanderson to O’Conor (private), 17 Mar. 1898, O’Conor MSS, OCON 6/1/15. ¹⁶³ Pourtalès-Gorgier to Hanotaux (no. 8), 26 Jan. 1898, DDF (1) xiv, no. 31; Nish, AngloJapanese Alliance, 58–60; Rosen, Forty Years i, 156–9.

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illness.¹⁶⁴ More importantly, the discussions went beyond the lease of Weihaiwei. There was now profound disagreement between the ministers on the general principles of the country’s foreign policy. The discussions reﬂected the growing unease of a substantial group of ministers about the soundness of Britain’s assumed ‘policy of isolation’. Salisbury’s lead in matters of foreign policy was challenged by ‘un élément dedans que Lord Salisbury ne contrôle pas’. The parlous state of the Prime Minister’s health weakened his authority further.¹⁶⁵ Above all, it was the merits of his policy and its underlying principles that were now scrutinized. The Cabinet was divided into two groups. The ‘anti-Weihaiwei group’ identiﬁed Russia as the main adversary in Asia, and advocated a ﬁrm policy in order to oust her from Port Arthur, even at the risk of war. In return, Britain herself should not acquire Chinese territory either, so as to maintain the integrity of the Chinese Empire. But there was little doubt in the minds of the members of this group that in the long-term Britain could not afford to maintain a consistently anti-Russian policy without a reliable ally. The ‘anti-Weihaiwei group’ was therefore roughly identical with the embryonic anti-isolationist party in the Cabinet. Its members, particularly Chamberlain, but also Balfour and the two service ministers, Goschen at the Admiralty and Lord Lansdowne at the War Ofﬁce, favoured an alliance with a continental Power, preferably Germany. This was a motley crew. It was by no means a natural formation; nor did its members have a ﬁrm or as yet coherent foreign policy outlook. Chamberlain was the most vociferous advocate of a ‘new course’ in foreign policy. Yet, throughout the seven years of his unique association with Salisbury, Chamberlain never once made Randolph Churchill’s fatal mistake of underestimating the premier’s dexterity and resourcefulness. Vociferously and forcefully he argued in Cabinet; but he was determined to avoid the open breach which so many expected. The enforced alliance between the Birmingham screw-manufacturer, the voice of Nonconformity and Radicalism, with the Cavendishes and Cecils was of recent date. When Chamberlain joined Salisbury’s Unionist administration in 1895, he surprised most political observers, including Salisbury himself, by asking for the Colonial Ofﬁce rather than for one of the senior domestic ofﬁces of state. At the time Salisbury derided Chamberlain’s espousal of the cause of Empire as ‘entirely theoretic’.¹⁶⁶ ¹⁶⁴ Tel. Balfour to Queen Victoria, 18 Mar. 1898, CAB 41/24/32; Alice Blanche Balfour diary, 9 Mar. 1898, Whittinghame Muniment MSS, GD 433/2/244. ¹⁶⁵ Memo. Courcel (on conversation with Charles Dilke), 11 Mar. 1898, DDF (1) xiv, no. 80, app.; also Devonshire to James, 14 Mar. 1898, James of Hereford MSS, M45/948. ¹⁶⁶ Salisbury to Selborne (private), 30 June 1895, Selborne MSS, MS Selborne 5; Brodrick to Selborne (private), 26 July 1895, ibid., MS Selborne 2; see P. Fraser, ‘The Liberal Unionist Alliance: Chamberlain,

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But Chamberlain’s newly found interest was more than that. To an extent, his imperialism was Radicalism projected onto a larger plane. He was a politician of formidable conceptual abilities, willing to query the accepted basics of late Victorian politics. Unlike the Radicalism of the philosophizing dilettante Morley or the political gadﬂy Labouchere, his was geared towards constructive purposes. Much of his domestic reform programme was blocked by the alliance with the Conservatives.¹⁶⁷ His decision to take the Colonial Ofﬁce, however, was not so much an instance of ﬁnding a less dangerous outlet for his ideas; it reﬂected his growing conviction that the social ills the Midlands municipal reformer had wished to heal, depended for their remedy on a programme that operated on a grander scale. A skilful political operator, well-versed in the art of popular demagoguery, Chamberlain had kept his ﬁnger on the pulse of public opinion, and drew succour from a growing unease in Britain with the state of the Empire. His politics were actuated by what he saw as Britain’s relative decline as the world’s leading industrial nation; a decline which could only be halted or even reversed by means of closer ties between the mother country and the self-governing colonies. Progress and prosperity at home, then, depended on developing the Empire. Hence he advocated the creation of a ‘British Zollverein or Customs Union’.¹⁶⁸ This was also a direct challenge to the traditional laissez-faire methods of British imperial policy. With the seemingly boundless energy and aggressive political style which had made ‘Brummagem Joe’ a national ﬁgure, he fused the notion of Empire with Radical collectivism. State action in the furtherance of the larger idea of Empire was to provide a seemingly simple solution to the complex web of social problems at home and problems of Britain’s external economic relations. Chamberlain’s imperialism had important implications for Salisbury’s conduct of foreign affairs. If the Colonial Secretary’s imperial programme smacked of theoretical knowledge more than practical experience, Chamberlain now had more political clout than ever before. It was not lost on Salisbury that Chamberlain’s notions of developing the Empire were linked to Britain’s Hartington and the Conservatives, 1886–1904’, EHR lxxvii, 4 (1962), 62–78; P. T. Marsh, Joseph Chamberlain: Entrepreneur in Politics (New Haven, 1994), 366–9. ¹⁶⁷ Balfour to Salisbury, 24 July 1892, S-BC, 427–30; Chamberlain to Devonshire, 23 July 1895, B. Holland, The Life of Spencer Compton, Eighth Duke of Devonshire (2 vols., London, 1911), ii, 261; R. V. Kubicek, The Administration of Imperialism: Joseph Chamberlain at the Colonial Ofﬁce (Durham, NC, 1969), 12–13; R. Faber, The Vision and the Need: Late Victorian Imperialist Aims (London, 1966), 74–7. ¹⁶⁸ Chamberlain speech at the Congress of Chambers of Commerce of the Empire, 9 June 1896, Mr. Chamberlain’s Speeches, ed. C. W. Boyd (2 vols., London, 1914) ii, 367–71; M. Crouzet, ‘Joseph Chamberlain’, Les Politiques d’Expansion Impérialiste, ed. P. Renouvin (Paris, 1949), 165 and 168–70.

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relations with the other Powers. Chamberlain identiﬁed the failure of Britain’s traditional foreign policy as a major contributing factor to the commercial eclipse of the country.¹⁶⁹ Salisbury’s slow diplomacy in the Far Eastern crisis exacerbated Chamberlain’s growing irritation with the premier’s handling of British foreign policy problems. Relations between the two men had reached their nadir halfway through Salisbury’s third administration. It was common currency in political circles that Chamberlain ‘is very sick with our present head of the F.O. whom he considers past work’.¹⁷⁰ For Chamberlain, Russia’s recent establishment on the Gulf of Pechili was adverse to British interests in China. Already in early February he had demanded ‘a more decided attitude’ to meet Russian expansion there; and if Russia refused to adhere to ‘open-door’ principles ‘we should summon her ﬂeet to leave Port Arthur and make her go if necessary’. The lapse of nearly two months had not diminished Chamberlain’s bellicosity.¹⁷¹ Chamberlain’s apparent advocacy of conﬂict was too bold for the other antiisolationists. Balfour was hesitant from the beginning. His instincts guided him in Chamberlain’s direction, but he was reluctant to challenge his uncle, the Prime Minister.¹⁷² The same could be said of Lord Lansdowne, who presided over the unreformed War Ofﬁce. He had shown reservations about an active policy in West Africa and in the Nile question, and was unlikely to support the sort of action in the Far East now proposed by Chamberlain. Moreover, at the beginning of February, Lansdowne had been dissuaded by Salisbury from resigning over Cabinet opposition to his proposed army reform.¹⁷³ Thus, beholden to the Prime Minister, Lansdowne was reluctant to oppose Salisbury over Weihaiwei. Goschen, the First Lord of the Admiralty, also had a wide knowledge of European politics. His world, unlike that of his aristocratic colleagues, was that of City ﬁnance. A banker and later Chancellor of the Exchequer, his political mind was nevertheless not narrowly conﬁned to ﬁscal matters and economic ¹⁶⁹ Chamberlain to Selborne (secret), 1 Dec. 1897, Selborne MSS, MS Selborne 8; Chamberlain to Monson (secret), 1 Nov. 1897, Monson MSS, MS.Eng.hist.c.594. ¹⁷⁰ Rumbold to father, 26 Aug. 1898, Rumbold MSS, Bodl., MS Rumbold dep. 10; see Lady F. Balfour, Ne Obleviscaris (2 vols., London, s.a.), ii, 270. ¹⁷¹ Quotes from Chamberlain to Balfour (private), 3 Feb. 1898, Balfour MSS, Add. MSS. 49773; and Lascelles to O’Conor, 11 Mar. 1898, O’Conor MSS, OCON 6/1/15. ¹⁷² Balfour to Devonshire (private), 31 Mar. 1898, Balfour MSS, Add.MS. 49769; B. E. C. Dugdale, Arthur James Balfour: First Earl of Balfour (2 vols., London, 1939), i, 189–90; S. H. Zebel, Balfour: A Political Biography (Cambridge, 1973), 94–5. ¹⁷³ Lansdowne to Salisbury (private), 2 and 3 Feb. 1898, Salisbury MSS, 3M/E/Lansdowne (1897–9); Lord Newton, Lord Lansdowne: A Biography (London, 1929), 100–1 and 147–51.

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management. Private business had taken him to South America, ofﬁcial assignments to Egypt in 1876, and in 1880 as ambassador extraordinary to Constantinople, where he added to his reputation by his adroit handling of the Montenegrin and Greek frontier questions. Indeed, Gladstone thought that Goschen would have made a good Foreign Secretary.¹⁷⁴ Already once before, between 1871 and 1874, Goschen had held the helm at the Admiralty. His knowledge of Europe was widely acknowledged and his counsels carried great weight. Whatever his misgivings about Wilhelmine Germany, he could not detect any fundamental political differences between Britain and Germany. In Egypt, by contrast, when investigating the ﬁnancial mess of the Khedival regime, he had encountered French rivalry; and at Constantinople, he had fended off Russian intrigues. Moreover, during his second term at the Admiralty, he was primarily concerned with checking a Franco-Russian naval combination in the Mediterranean.¹⁷⁵ Goschen was by no means disposed to place unlimited conﬁdence in Salisbury’s policies, having led Cabinet opposition against him over Armenia in 1895. From a strategic point of view, the acquisition of a naval base in China entailed an additional burden on already strained resources. He also highlighted the diplomatic ramiﬁcations of acquiring Weihaiwei. The policy of territorial compensations, as proposed by O’Conor, he argued, involved a ‘diplomatic defeat’; it marked a deviation from Britain’s established China policy.¹⁷⁶ The principles of Goschen’s policy, then, were those of the ‘traditional policy’ in the Far East of maintaining unhindered trade and China’s territorial integrity, a policy which Salisbury proposed to abandon. Like Balfour and Lansdowne, Goschen erred on the side of caution; and, unlike Chamberlain, whose views he did not generally share, he did not attach any great importance to the events in the Far East.¹⁷⁷ At the Cabinet meeting on 11 January Goschen was supported by Hicks Beach, and the Chancellor was also an initial member of the ‘anti-Weihaiwei ¹⁷⁴ Hamilton diary, 24 July 1886, EHD (1), 43; P. Colson (ed.), Lord Goschen and His Friends: The Goschen Letters (London, s.a. [1946]), 23; Elliot, Goschen ii, 143–50; T. J. Spinner, George Joachim Goschen: The Transformation of a Victorian Liberal (Cambridge, 1973), 65–82. ¹⁷⁵ Memo. Goschen, 5 Mar. 1897, ADM 116/1605; A. J. Marder, The Anatomy of Sea Power: A History of British Naval Policy in the Pre-Dreadnought Era, 1880–1905 (Hamden, Conn., repr. 1964), 350–1. ¹⁷⁶ Min. Goschen, n.d., on O’Conor to Sanderson (private), 24 Mar. 1898, Salisbury MSS, 3M/A/129/39. ¹⁷⁷ Goschen to Salisbury (private), 10 Jan. 1898, Salisbury MSS, 3M/E/Goschen (1897–8); Goschen to Devonshire (private), 12 Mar. 1898, Devonshire MSS, 340.2759. On the Goschen–Chamberlain relationship see also Brodrick to Selborne (private), 26 July 1895, Selborne MSS, MS Selborne 2.

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group’. Beach was by no means above the occasional outburst of bellicosity. Indeed, the Swansea speech of 17 January betrayed something of his past as a supporter of Disraeli’s strident jingoism during the Great Eastern crisis in 1875–8. During the Cabinet discussions in March 1898 Beach’s stance was largely inﬂuenced by the Treasury’s ﬁscal concerns. It was one thing for Salisbury to complain that ‘[t]he inﬂuence which the Gladstonian garrison at the Treasury have upon Beach’s mind is very disastrous’.¹⁷⁸ Yet Britain’s ﬁnances demanded attention. Senior Treasury ofﬁcials had concluded in 1896 that there were dangerous ﬁssures in the country’s ﬁscal system, and that soon there would be a revenue shortfall which would have to be made up for by increased taxation or a suspension of the sinking fund. In 1896, Beach had allowed government expenditure to rise for the ﬁrst time beyond the £100 million threshold; and more than half of the additional expenditure was spent on imperial defence, largely to ﬁnance the naval increases necessary in order to maintain the ‘Two-Power-Standard’.¹⁷⁹ By 1898, he was anxious to economize, or at least to minimize any further rise in expenditure. Thus, ﬁscal constraints led him to oppose the acquisition of an additional naval base.¹⁸⁰ The Duke of Devonshire, the Lord President and most senior minister after Salisbury, was in a position similar to that of Balfour and Goschen. He was concerned about the strategic portent of the recent events in the Far East.¹⁸¹ Having received his political apprenticeship at the War Ofﬁce under Palmerston, the Duke had considerable experience of military affairs, and took a special interest in imperial defence questions. Since 1895 he had presided over the embryonic Cabinet committee of defence. Also, Lancashire where his political career had begun, and to which county he remained attached, depended to some extent on the China market for its cotton trade.¹⁸² Married to the German-born Countess Louise von Alten, the widowed Duchess of Manchester, he took an interest in maintaining good relations with Germany. Yet, having declined the Foreign Ofﬁce in 1895,¹⁸³ he scrupulously avoided ¹⁷⁸ Salisbury to Chamberlain (private), 13 Dec. 1896, Chamberlain MSS, JC 5/67/56. For the meeting of 11 Jan., Devonshire to James, 11 Jan. 1898, James of Hereford MSS, M45/937. ¹⁷⁹ Hamilton diary, 5 Apr. 1896, EHD (2), 322; also Hicks Beach, Life of Hicks Beach ii, 30–3, 48–51, and 62–4. ¹⁸⁰ Hicks Beach to Salisbury (private), 26 Dec. 1897, Hicks Beach MSS, PCC/34; min. Curzon, n.d., Curzon MSS, MSS.Eur.F.112/368. ¹⁸¹ Devonshire to Goschen (private), 12 Mar. 1898, Devonshire MSS, 340.2760; min. Curzon, n.d., Curzon MSS, MSS.Eur.F.112/368. ¹⁸² Holland, Duke of Devonshire, i, 20; J. Ehrman, Cabinet Government and War, 1890–1940 (Cambridge, 1958), 23. ¹⁸³ Curzon to Brodrick (private), 26 June 1895, Midleton MSS, BL, Add.MSS. 50073; Salisbury to Curzon, 27 June 1895, Curzon MSS, MSS.Eur.F.112/1A.

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trespassing on that department’s territory and refrained from challenging Salisbury’s lead in foreign policy. Always a somewhat lethargic man, who much preferred Newmarket to high politics, he was by now almost past ambition. Finally, the last and least inﬂuential member of this group was the President of the Local Government Board Henry Chaplin. His elevation to cabinet rank was one of the appointments Salisbury later deeply regretted.¹⁸⁴ The ‘Squire of Blakeney’, part caricature country gentleman, part ‘Champagne Charlie’, who spent more than was prudent on the turf and the Prince of Wales, frequently spoke on issues outside his departmental remit. Like Chamberlain, he had protectionist (though predominantly agrarian) inclinations.¹⁸⁵ Moreover, he was a romantic imperialist in the Disraelian mould, with pro-German leanings and connections. In a retrospective memorandum he wrote that, during the Cabinet discussions of March, he had supported Chamberlain’s demand for a ﬁrm policy. He had argued ‘in favour of sending the Fleet to Talienwan, & resisting if necessary by force, the acquisition of that place & Port Arthur by Russia . . . Russia appears to grow bolder every day, and . . . it is only a question of time in my opinion, when we shall have to choose between [resistance] . . . and some position of much humiliation for this country.’¹⁸⁶ Chaplin’s political fortunes were about as chequered as his fortune on the turf. Although popular with the rank and ﬁle of his party in the House of Commons, he commanded no great weight in the Cabinet.¹⁸⁷ Ultimately, his stance was irrelevant, but it was indicative of the deep unease about ‘isolation’. The members of the ‘Weihaiwei group’ were less pessimistic. Led by Salisbury, and assisted by Curzon, they regarded the acquisition of Port Arthur by Russia as inevitable. Britain was in no position to prevent it, but could check it by occupying Weihaiwei. They ‘looked with no disfavour upon such a course’, as it was bound to open more Chinese ports to foreign trade. The lease of the place was also seen as a tool to make St Petersburg more amenable to the idea of an Anglo-Russian regional arrangement.¹⁸⁸ Clearly, this policy was ¹⁸⁴ Balfour to Devonshire (conﬁdential), 12 Oct. 1900, Sandars MSS, Bodl., MS.Eng.hist.c.732; Salisbury to Devonshire (private), 22 Oct. 1900, Devonshire MSS, 340.2840; and to James, 26 Apr. 1899, James of Hereford MSS, M45/991. ¹⁸⁵ Min. 2nd Lord Chaplin, n.d., on Wedgwood to Chaplin (private), 23 Sept. 1936 (author’s possession); E. H. Vane-Tempest-Stewart (Marchioness of Londonderry), Henry Chaplin: A Memoir (London, 1926), 173–4. ¹⁸⁶ Memo. Chaplin, 19 Aug. 1898, Balfour MSS, Add.MSS. 49772. ¹⁸⁷ Balfour to Salisbury (private), 23 Oct. 1900, Sandars MSS, MS.Eng.hist.c.732; Balfour to Devonshire (conﬁdential), 12 Sept. 1900, and Devonshire to Salisbury (private), 20 Oct. 1900, Devonshire MSS, 340.2837–8. ¹⁸⁸ Balfour to Goschen (private), 26 Feb. 1898, Balfour MSS, Add.MSS. 49706.

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intended as a continuation of Salisbury’s failed attempt to arrive at a modus vivendi with Russia in China. Especially Salisbury and Curzon were extremely cautious about the practical value and indeed the desirability of an alliance with Germany. At the committee meeting on 22 March, the ‘Weihaiwei group’ prevailed over the anti-isolationists. With only Chamberlain dissenting, the ministers decided to accept the Chinese offer.¹⁸⁹ A concerted effort by Salisbury, Curzon, and Bertie had shifted the balance. Curzon’s contribution to converting the somewhat recalcitrant Cabinet to Salisbury’s views was instrumental, and the Parliamentary Under-Secretary maintained ‘a sort of parental interest in that place [Weihaiwei]’, throughout his career.¹⁹⁰ An acknowledged expert on Asian affairs on account of his travels in the East and his subsequent writings on the subject, he shared Salisbury’s appreciation of the strategic problems of the ‘dying empires’, and grasped the portent of the German seizure of Kiaochow and the Russian descent upon Port Arthur. In a lengthy tour d’horizon he warned Salisbury at the end of December 1897 that Germany had ‘violently affected the balance of power in N[orthern] China’ to Britain’s detriment. Compensation was, therefore, required: The dangers of the German & Russian position in the North seems to consist in the Command that it gives them of the Gulf of Pechili & the approaches to Peking . . . & in the pressure which they will be able in consequence to exercise on the Chinese Gov[ernmen]t. It is here that our position, already a good deal shaken by Russian ascendency in Korea, seems most likely to suffer. Russia is always at the door of China by land . . . Germany . . . will be on the other side of the doorstep; & [it] will be more difﬁcult for others to get in.

Curzon had very deﬁnite views on the situation in China and he had equally ﬁrm opinions on the future course of British policy in the region. He strongly advised a naval demonstration off Weihaiwei to underline Britain’s resolve to maintain her inﬂuence in northern China. He wanted to encourage a debate on Britain’s altered strategic needs and interests in East Asia. A new China policy had to be formulated and implemented. Until recently Britain had enjoyed in China ‘undisputed surpremacy—naval & commercial’, but no longer. He did not merely urge watchfulness, ‘but . . . a determination to pounce the moment ¹⁸⁹ Min. Salisbury, 22 Mar. 1898, BD i, no. 34; tel. Balfour to Queen Victoria, 22 Mar. 1898, PRO, CAB 41/24/33. ¹⁹⁰ Curzon to Brodrick (private), 18 June 1900, Midleton MSS, Add.MSS. 50074; cf. Salisbury to Curzon (private), 15 Apr. 1898, Curzon MSS, MSS.Eur.F.111/144; D. Dilke, Curzon in India (2 vols., London, 1969) i, 57–8.

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anyone else deﬁnitely pounces’. Peking had to be given to understand ‘that in certain eventualities we shall be bound to protect ourselves’.¹⁹¹ Immediately after the inconclusive Cabinet meeting of 14 March, Curzon and Bertie drew up two separate memoranda, in which they developed identical arguments in favour of accepting the Chinese offer. Both memoranda were then circulated amongst members of the Cabinet. Curzon’s lengthy paper was at ﬁrst only shown to the six most senior ministers, who attended the committee meeting at the Admiralty on 22 March (Balfour, Chamberlain, Goschen, Devonshire, Hicks Beach, and Lansdowne), but was subsequently made available to the full Cabinet.¹⁹² The two memoranda were the result of the collaboration between the Parliamentary and the Assistant UnderSecretaries, who appreciated each other’s crisp views on foreign and imperial matters. Bertie advised that the time had come to act; a strategic point was required to check Russia and Germany in northern China: ‘At Wei-hai-Wei we should face Russia, and would have some control over the proceedings of the Germans, who are evidently bent on monopolising everything in Shantung.’¹⁹³ Curzon stressed that the building of a Russian railway through Manchuria and the acquisition of Port Arthur ‘in combination involve the ultimate domination of Manchuria and Shinking by Russia, and they place her in . . . possession of the most powerful naval port in those waters’. Whatever assurances to the contrary Muravev might give, Curzon opined, Port Arthur would speedily be turned into a fortiﬁed base, complete with dockyard, arsenal, and other facilities. This would change the regional naval balance; and Britain was obliged ‘to acquire a corresponding position’. Inaction implied acquiescence in Russia’s predominance over ‘the maximum sphere of inﬂuence ever hitherto claimed in North China’. Curzon developed this argument further on a grand geostrategic scale. Once established as the undisputed ‘mistress of the approach to Peking by sea, and of the territorial frontier of China by land’, Russia would seek to extend her inﬂuence to the metropolitan ¹⁹¹ Curzon to Salisbury (private), 29 Dec. 1897, Salisbury MSS, 3M/E/1/109. Among his writings on Asian affairs were Russia in Central Asia in 1889 and the Anglo-Russian Question (London, 1889), Persia and the Persian Question (2 vols., London, 1892), and Problems of the Far East: Japan–Korea–China (London, 1894, rev. ed. 1896). ¹⁹² Min. Curzon, n.d., Curzon MSS, MSS.Eur. F.112/368; memo. Balfour, 14 Mar. 1898, Balfour MSS, Add.MSS. 49746. ¹⁹³ Memo. Bertie, 14 Mar. 1898, BD i, no. 24; Curzon to Brodrick (private), 4 Oct. 1898, Midleton MSS, Add.MSS. 50073. Further internal evidence of their cooperation lies in the fact that the spelling of Chinese place names is identical in both memoranda—Bertie’s memoranda and minutes were not normally models of consistency.

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province of Chili and possibly beyond into Shansi, eventually dominating the whole of northern China, north of the Hwang-ho River. The appearance of Germany complicated the situation further. Unless countered, the Russian and German territorial gains would seal Britain’s exclusion from northern China. Urgent action was required to safeguard Britain’s prestige in the East and with it her inﬂuence with the Peking authorities or the provincial viceroys. Hoisting the Union Jack over Weihaiwei was a clear signal ‘that we have not abandoned the ﬁeld in North China to our rivals’. Curzon also stressed the wider diplomatic context of the question. Accepting the Chinese offer, as encouraged by Japan, he noted, ‘would give us a lien upon the conﬁdence and, when required, upon the alliance of Japan’. Abandoning northern China would merely push Japan into the arms of Russia.¹⁹⁴ Bertie supported this. If Japan remained at Weihaiwei upon the full payment of the last instalment of the war indemnity, he feared a revival of the Far Eastern Dreibund. Germany would take Weihaiwei, and France and Russia would obtain compensation elsewhere: ‘and we shall be left to content ourselves as best we can in the Yang-tsze region, seeing our trade gradually squeezed out of North and South China’. The containment of France in the south, enshrined in the Anglo-French convention of January 1896, and the checking of Russian and German inﬂuence by naval and diplomatic means would then unravel.¹⁹⁵ Curzon attempted to allay concerns about the wider implications of the acquisition of Weihaiwei. A British takeover could not be objectionable to Russia since it lay in Shantung, outside Russia’s presumed sphere of inﬂuence. Moreover, it was ‘separated by 100 miles from Liao-tung; it does not touch or threaten Manchuria; nor does it in any way interfere with legitimate Russian expansion’. Russia’s possible reaction, however, was only one aspect of the question. Revealing the extent to which he and Salisbury were concerned about Germany as much as about Russia, Curzon then pondered the impact of the lease of Weihaiwei on Anglo-German relations. He denied that it could be seen as a ‘legitimate offence’, but admitted that it might become ‘a source of irritation’, and stressed that ‘our possession of Wei-hai-Wei . . . [will] provide us with the very means we desire of coming to terms with her, of making her more reasonable in the future, and of compelling her to respect Treaty rights in Shantung’. ¹⁹⁴ Memo. Curzon, ‘Memorandum on the Advantages of a British Lease of Wei-hai-Wei’, 14 Mar. 1898, Curzon MSS, MSS.Eur. F.112/363. ¹⁹⁵ Memo. Bertie, 14 Mar. 1898, BD i, no. 24.

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Curzon and Bertie agreed that immediate and urgent action was necessary, as the former pointed out that ‘[i]f we mean no one else to swallow the cherry, why not take it ourselves, instead of having a bite at it, and still leaving it on the plate to excite the appetite of others?’ Allowing Britain ‘to be squeezed . . . out of the north’ would give rise to an impression of weakness, and ‘our reputation both at Peking and throughout China will be permanently the loser’.¹⁹⁶ On 17 March, Bertie followed this up with a private letter to Balfour. The AUS still reckoned with the possible re-emergence of the 1895 triplice. Britain, he insisted, had to take Weihaiwei, by force if necessary, if the Chinese, under pressure from the triplice Powers, were to refuse the lease after all. Signiﬁcantly, he argued that the British had ‘to hold it on lease to run concurrently with the leases to Germany at Kiaochou and to Russia of Port Arthur and Talienwan’.¹⁹⁷ The two memoranda were ﬁrst discussed by the senior Cabinet ministers and naval experts at the Admiralty on 22 March. According to Curzon’s records, the ministers ‘hesitated on strategical grounds, but were clear on the advisability of occupation on political grounds’. With only Chamberlain, and possibly Beach, dissenting, the committee decided in favour of the lease. This decision was then sanctioned, at Salisbury’s suggestion, by a meeting of the full cabinet in the afternoon of 25 March, to which Curzon was admitted for the purpose.¹⁹⁸ As he surmised at the time, most of the sceptics were probably swayed by parliamentary and electoral considerations: ‘I think everyone on our bench (including the anti-Wei-hai-Wei party such as Chamberlain & Goschen etc.) realized that but for Wei-hai-Wei we would have fared badly’ in the Commons debate on China on 5 April.¹⁹⁹ Such concerns were by no means ill-founded. In the national press and in Parliament the government’s China policy, and Salisbury’s stewardship of foreign affairs in particular, were vehemently attacked: ‘[A] Palmerston at home and a Stratford Canning at Pekin’ were demanded; and the ‘Frontbench Invertebrates’ with their ‘ministerial vacillations, hesitations and timidity’ were judged to fall well short of that standard. Throughout the ﬁrst half of 1898 the Unionists suffered a series of by-election reverses on account of Salisbury’s ‘failed’ foreign policy, culminating ¹⁹⁶ Memo. Curzon, 14 Mar. 1898, Curzon MSS, MSS.Eur.F112/363. ¹⁹⁷ Bertie to Balfour, 17 Mar. 1898, Balfour MSS, Add.MSS. 49746. ¹⁹⁸ Min. Curzon, n.d., Curzon MSS, MSS.Eur. F.112/368. Curzon later gave 26 March as the date of the decision, see Curzon to Hamilton (private), 22 Aug. 1900, Hamilton MSS, MSS.Eur.D.510/5. This seems unlikely since MacDonald was instructed on 25 March to demand Weihaiwei. ¹⁹⁹ Curzon to Salisbury (private), 11 Apr. 1898, Salisbury MSS, 3M/E/1/118.

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in their spectacular defeat at Southport in Lancashire, vacated by Curzon following his appointment as Viceroy of India.²⁰⁰ Immediately after the Cabinet meeting, MacDonald was instructed to obtain the lease. Even before he presented his demand to the Tsungli Yamên on 28 March, the commander-in-chief of the China Station had been ordered to assemble a naval force in the Gulf of Pechili, superior in numbers to the Russian squadron at Port Arthur. The object of this exercise was to support MacDonald’s demands against any Russian attempt to bully the Chinese into reneging on their offer. The minister had to act under great pressure of time: ‘Russia took 30 days, Cabinet give me seven.’²⁰¹ Nevertheless, on 2 April, MacDonald secured the lease, and the transfer of Weihaiwei was accomplished on 24 May.²⁰² Once the lease was secured, the Powers had to be informed. O’Conor was instructed to assure Muravev that the British government would not object to Russia’s lease of the commercial harbour of Talienwan, especially in light of the Russian foreign minister’s earlier undertaking that the port would remain open to all foreign trade. However, O’Conor was to point out that following the extension of the Siberian railway into Manchuria ‘the social, political, and economic state of this region must inevitably be revolutionized.’ Moreover, the lease of the strategically important, non-commercial harbour of Port Arthur had changed the general situation in the Far East, as indeed the Russian government had emphasized at the time of the triple intervention against Japan in 1895. The possession of Port Arthur was ‘likely to have political consequences at Peking of great international importance’; and it would ‘be universally interpreted in the Far East as indicating that the partition of China has begun’. Under these circumstances, and given that Muravev had rejected Salisbury’s proposal of 22 March, ²⁰⁰ ‘Diplomaticus’, ‘A Monroe Doctrine for Asia’, FR lxiii, 374 (Feb. 1898), 333; H. W. Wilson, ‘Frontbench Invertebrates’, NR xxxi, 4 (Apr. 1898), 300–1; anon., ‘The Failure of Our Foreign Policy’, CR lxxiii, 4 (1898), 457–80; ‘Diplomaticus’, ‘The Break-Down of Our Chinese Policy’, FR lxiii, 5 (1898), 844–54. For a detailed discussion, see Otte, ‘ “Avenge England’s Dishonour” ’. ²⁰¹ Tel. MacDonald to Barrington (private), 1 Apr. 1898, Salisbury MSS, 3M/A/106/9; tel. Admiralty to Seymour (no. 49), 26 Mar. 1898, ADM 125/88; I. H. Nish, ‘The Royal Navy and the Taking of Wei-hai-Wei, 1898–1905’, MM liv, 1 (1967), 39–54. ²⁰² Tel. MacDonald to Salisbury, 3 Apr. 1898, FO 83/1907; Chinese Secretary’s Ofﬁce, Record Books, 1 July 1898, FO 233/44. Memo. King-Hall, 24 May 1898, ADM 125/88; journal Fitzgerald, 27 May 1898, ADM 50/379. For the text of the convention see A. H. Oakes and R. W. Brant (eds.), A Complete Collection of the Treaties and Conventions between Great Britain and Foreign Powers, vol. xxi (London, 1901), 295–6; also P. Atwell, British Mandarins and Chinese Reformers: The British Administration of Weihaiwei (1898–1930) (Hong Kong and Oxford, 1985), 7–17.

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Britain ‘must retain [her] entire liberty of action’ in protecting her regional interests.²⁰³ Relations with Russia were now seriously strained. Staal found Balfour ‘très préoccupé, très péniblement impressioné’ by the turn of events in the Far East. Staal’s assurances that Russia had taken possession of the Liaotung Peninsula for defensive purposes made little impression on Balfour. In acquiring Port Arthur, Staal was informed, Russia was in a position to menace the Chinese capital and disrupt the regional equilibrium.²⁰⁴ Worse, on 29 March Muravev ofﬁcially announced the lease of Port Arthur and Talienwan; and a few days later he informed O’Conor that his earlier assurances concerning Talienwan had been of a hypothetical nature, subject to his negotiations with the Chinese. O’Conor was infuriated by this further instance of Muravevian mendacity: the Russians have treated us badly . . . but it was useless to say that. . . . I rather hope that after the ﬁrst irritation has subsided we shall settle down to fairly friendly terms again. The Russian may wish to give us a dig—but on the other hand they won’t be anxious to push us too much on the side of Japan.²⁰⁵

Sanderson’s assessment, saturated by four decades of experience with Russian diplomacy, was perceptive. Nevertheless, by the spring of 1898, there was ‘un refroidissement marqué ’ in Anglo-Russian relations.²⁰⁶ Indeed, in a parallel to British fears about the possible recrudescence of the triplice combination, Staal and Courcel regarded the cession of Weihaiwei to Britain as evidence of the existence of an Anglo-Japanese understanding.²⁰⁷ The government in Berlin also needed to be informed of the lease. In notifying the Wilhelmstrasse, Lascelles emphasized the territory had been acquired ‘in order to restore the balance of power in the Gulf of Pechili which had been disturbed to the detriment of Britain by the Russian occupation of Port Arthur and that it was not directed against German interests’.²⁰⁸ The German government, however, regarded the whole of Shantung as its sphere of inﬂuence, and ²⁰³ Salisbury to O’Conor (no. 76A), 26 Mar. 1898, BD i, no. 40. ²⁰⁴ Staal to Muravev (no. 24), 18/20 Mar. 1898, SC ii, 375–6. ²⁰⁵ Sanderson to O’Conor (private), 13 Apr. 1898, O’Conor MSS, OCON 6/1/15; O’Conor to Salisbury (nos. 128 and 137A), 29 Mar. and 4 Apr. 1898, FO 65/1553; Neilson, Last Tsar, 194–5. ²⁰⁶ Tel. Geoffray to Hanotaux (no. 59, très conﬁdentiel), 26 Mar. 1898, DDF (1) xiv, no. 100. ²⁰⁷ Tel. Hanotaux to Montebello (no. 245), 6 Apr. 1898, DDF (1) xiv, no. 134. ²⁰⁸ Lascelles to Salisbury (no. 105), 7 Apr. 1898, FO 64/1437; Sanderson to Lascelles (no. 73), 30 Mar. 1898, FO 244/562; min. Klehmet, 4 Apr. 1898, GP xiv/1, no. 3760.

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demanded a British declaration accepting German predominance there; and, furthermore, that Britain would abstain from building a railway line between Weihaiwei and the interior of Shantung, which pledge was given on 20 April.²⁰⁹ London also formally declared that Britain had ‘no intention of injuring or contesting the interests of Germany in the Province of Shantung, or of creating difﬁculties for her in that province’.²¹⁰ This was perhaps less than truthful since the naval base had been chosen precisely in order to counterbalance the German foothold in northern China. Still, it produced the desired effect at Berlin, though the Kaiser was irritated at ﬁnding the British in such close proximity to the new German naval base: ‘Wei-hai-Wei would . . . be a useless expense and indicated a departure from that practical common sense with which Englishmen were usually credited.’²¹¹ In so far as European diplomacy was concerned, the declaration of 20 April marked the end of the Far Eastern Crisis of 1897–8. The major European Powers had come to accept the changes in the territorial status quo in China. As for Britain, she had acquired what the government knew to be at best a second class naval base; a place moreover of no real strategic value as a counterpoise to the much superior Port Arthur naval base, and whose fortiﬁcation would have entailed substantial expenditure. The Russians were ‘much froissé at our taking Wei-hai-Wei’, but this was merely the froth on the surface. As for Port Arthur, Sanderson admitted: ‘I don’t think that the question of Port Arthur being open to merchant ships is really of much consequence. It is not and cannot be a commercial port, and if Talienwan is open that will for practical purposes be enough.’²¹² Sanderson’s admission is an indication that British policy during the Far Eastern crisis was motivated by the perceived need to counterbalance the arrival of Germany in China as well as the gains made by Russia. The Russian occupation of Port Arthur and Talienwan was in some respect a welcome pretext. The decision to respond in kind to the seizure of Kiaochow had, in principle, been taken already in December. The strongly anti-Russian sentiments ²⁰⁹ Lascelles to Salisbury (no. 105), 7 Apr. 1898, FO 64/1437; min. Sanderson, n.d. [9? April 1898], Balfour MSS, Add.MSS. 49739; tel. Bülow to Hatzfeldt (no. 99), 4 Apr. 1898, GP xiv/1, no. 3761. ²¹⁰ Note Lascelles to Bülow, 20 Apr. 1898, BD i, no. 52; tel. Bülow to Wilhelm II, 21 Apr. 1898, GP xiv/1, no. 3770. ²¹¹ Lascelles to Salisbury (no. 168), 26 May 1898, FO 64/1438. ²¹² Sanderson to O’Conor (private), 13 Apr. 1898, O’Conor MSS, OCON 6/1/15. For a detailed discussion see my, ‘ “Wee-ah-wee”?: Britain at Weihaiwei, 1898–1930’, British Naval Strategy East of Suez, 1900–2000, ed. G. Kennedy (London, 2005), 4–34.

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of the British press explain why Balfour and Curzon in Parliament and MacDonald in his negotiations with the Chinese only referred to the need to balance Russian inﬂuence in North China when they justiﬁed the lease of Weihaiwei.²¹³ The choice of the place itself suggests that this move was less of an antiRussian move. Balfour himself admitted that it might not be suitable as a counterpoise to Port Arthur after all. The ofﬁcers on China Station preferred blockading Russia at Port Arthur to taking possession of any place on the Chinese mainland and the Admiralty warned of the place’s strategic disadvantages.²¹⁴ Finally, Weihaiwei was some 1,300 miles from Hong Kong, the nearest British naval base, while the Russian garrison at Port Arthur could easily be reinforced from Siberia. At Weihaiwei Britain faced the old strategic problem that, as a sea power, she had no effective means of checking a land power. By taking the place, Britain could not hope to stop a Russian advance through Manchuria towards Peking. In fact, the War Ofﬁce and the Admiralty soon decided to abandon plans of fortifying the place. It was now generally accepted that, in the event of a war with Russia and France, no attempt should be made to hold it. Weihaiwei was now seen as useful only ‘for the use of the Navy in times of peace or in connection with events in China not involving war with Russia’.²¹⁵ The military and naval authorities concluded ‘that Wei-hai-Wei is strategically in too isolated a position for its military occupation in times of war with a naval Power ever to be satisfactory’. In particular with regards to Russia it was ‘impossible to foresee the future requirements at Wei-hai-Wei’. Making it strategically viable, would have involved the permanent stationing of a substantial naval force superior to the forces of any other sea power in the region. Neither the Treasury nor indeed the two service departments favoured such a solution. More than anything else it would have entailed costly permanent defences.²¹⁶

²¹³ PD (4) lvi (1898), cols. 232–40. ²¹⁴ Balfour to MacDonald, 30 Mar. 1898, FO 17/1338; memo. Ardagh, ‘Wei-hai-Wei’, 12 Apr. 1898, Ardagh MSS, PRO 30/40/14/2; F. D. Acland to father, 6 May [recte June] 1898, Acland MSS, Devon RO, 1148M. Add.14, ser. II/8; memo. Lewis, ‘Report on the Proposed Defences of the Naval Establishment at Wei-hai-Wei’, 11 Sept. 1898, CAB 11/59. ²¹⁵ Memo. Brodrick, 19 Mar. 1901, G. W. Balfour MSS, PRO 30/60/36; Hicks Beach to Selborne (private), 13 Jan. 1901, and min. Roberts, 13 Mar. 1901, Selborne MSS, MS Selborne 26. For a somewhat exaggerated assessment, see C. B. Davis and R. J. Gowen, ‘The British at Weihaiwei: A Case Study in the Irrationality of Empire’, TH lxiii, 1 (2000), 87–104. ²¹⁶ Quotes from War Ofﬁce to Admiralty (no. 206/WHW/107), 7 June 1901, CAB 11/59; report Joint Committee on Wei-hai-Wei, n.d. [Apr. 1899], ADM 116/552; min. Roberts, 13 Mar. 1901,

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If Weihaiwei was not suitable for a war with a naval power, or a combination of naval powers, it might have proved useful in a confrontation with Germany. The mere fact of Britain’s naval presence at Weihaiwei allowed her to check German proceedings at Kiaochow and in Shantung. While Russia’s expansion in the Far East was seen by many as inevitable, Germany’s regional ambitions could still be contained. The lease, then, had a political objective.²¹⁷ Against Russia it could not possibly serve any strategic purpose, and so had no real political value in the Great Game. It rather had a symbolic value, which helped to placate the largely anti-Russian sentiments in Britain. It also served notice to the other Powers that Britain would not relinquish northern China to them. The acquisition of Weihaiwei served a threefold purpose: in strategic terms, it allowed some control over the Germans at Kiaochow and in Shantung; in diplomatic terms, it marked the end of the Far Eastern crisis; and, in terms of international inﬂuence, it helped to maintain Britain’s prestige as a ﬁrst-class Power in East Asia. The nature of the China Question had undergone a profound change, and with it its impact on British policy. Since 1895 Liberal and Unionist administrations used loans as ﬁnancial tools principally to ward off challenges by other Powers to Britain’s political and strategic interests in China. After the Kiaochow crisis these tools also exacerbated the differences between the former triplice Powers. In this light, Salisbury’s reluctance to pursue the non-systemic Japanese option, which Kimberley and Rosebery contemplated in 1895, gains its proper meaning. An arrangement with Japan would have forced the 1895 triplice back together, and so would have reduced Britain’s room for manoeuvre. The 1897–8 crisis illustrated that a number of his ministers were driven by a sense of what they perceived to be the inadequacy of Salisbury’s policy of aloofness. The premier’s position was more nuanced, as the new evidence presented in this chapter suggests. Not only did he seek an arrangement with Russia, he also anticipated it to alter ‘the grouping of the Powers in Europe’.²¹⁸ Only once the Russian option was no longer available, did he WO 32/8244; Ommaney to Foreign Ofﬁce (no. 19367/1905), 27 June 1905, CO 521/8; memo. Lucas, ‘Wei-hai-Wei’, 7 June 1904, CO 882/6; memo. Clarke, ‘Wei-hai-Wei’, 7 Oct. 1905, CAB 17/65. ²¹⁷ Tel. MacDonald to Salisbury (no. 71), 10 Mar. 1898, FO 17/1340. On the political value of naval bases see Mahan’s comments on Gibraltar, The Inﬂuence of Sea Power upon History, 1660–1783 (Boston, 5th edn 1894), 29–30. ²¹⁸ Salisbury to Balfour, 6 Jan. 1898, Whittinghame Muniment MSS, GD 433/2/39.

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revert to an isolationist stance. Salisbury’s prevailing over the ‘anti-Weihaiwei group’ conﬁrmed his assumed ‘policy of isolation’. What Salisbury failed to anticipate, was that Chamberlain, defeated over Weihaiwei, would now take up the issue of an Anglo-German alliance. Whether such an approach would be successful, whether it would aid British efforts to stabilize the ‘China Question’, and whether it would force Britain to abandon any pretence of isolation would be determined over the next three years.

3 ‘Some Curious Conversations’: Alliances and Agreements, 1898–9 The lease of Weihaiwei marked the end of the China crisis of 1897–8. It was a victory of sorts for Salisbury, but the discussions in March had revealed growing opposition within the Cabinet. Under the reverberations of the China Question the existing foreign policy consensus had begun to collapse. In the spring of 1898, a small but inﬂuential group of ministers actively searched for a radical solution to Britain’s pressing China problem: a continental alliance. Salisbury himself acknowledged the seriousness of the situation, but pursued more limited aims. In the course of 1898–9 he would return to the option of an arrangement with Russia. To the malcontents in the government Salisbury’s apparent disinclination to pursue an active policy during the recent crisis made him appear a relic of a bygone age. His measured response to emerging crises seemed inadequate at a time when international politics were moving faster and unfolding on a larger scale. Arthur Balfour’s Private Secretary, the inﬂuential Jack Sandars, conﬁded to the former’s niece that Salisbury ‘no longer had the power of going to the depth of subjects coming before him’, while St John Brodrick, the Parliamentary Under-Secretary at the War Ofﬁce and soon to be Curzon’s successor at the Foreign Ofﬁce, ‘look[ed] forward to the day when with Arthur [Balfour] as chief, George [Curzon] Foreign Sec[retar]y, you & I and others like Austen [Chamberlain] & G[eorge] Wyndham, & Jim [Viscount Cranborne] will form a “Caucus” with a Cabinet & I trust will do some real big work for the Empire.’¹

¹ Quotes from Alice Blanche Balfour diary, 4 Mar. 1898, Whittinghame Muniment MSS, GD 433/2/224; and Brodrick to Selborne (private), 16 Aug. 1898, Selborne MSS, MS Selborne 2; see Sir C. Petrie, The Powers Behind the Prime Ministers (London, 1958), 56–84.

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Such criticism was particularly prevalent among junior ministers, but not conﬁned to them. In the eyes of some senior ministers, the decision to lease Weihaiwei did not meet the demands of the changed international circumstances. It symbolized the principles of Salisbury’s slow diplomacy of short-term fixes. Yet, as Curzon had surmised, the Prime Minister’s critics eventually yielded under the impression that the government needed something ‘to show’ when Parliament reconvened on 5 April.² There remained a strong undercurrent of scepticism, and this now began to shape policy. Driven by the gravity of the current Chinese crisis, Chamberlain made use of Salisbury’s sick leave, and embarked on a curious piece of private diplomacy. The Anglo-German alliance talks around 1900 are one of the many ‘mighthave-beens’ of nineteenth century international diplomacy. The mirage of an alliance between the two countries has long fascinated scholars.³ Early arguments, blaming the folly of Wilhelmstrasse diplomats for the failure of the talks, were effectively countered by Gerhard Ritter, in whose analysis there never had been a turning-point because an alliance would have been unacceptable to Britain.⁴ More recent examinations of the problem have tended to focus less on the role of individual political actors, but still come to similar conclusions. No opportunity was missed. There was no commonality of interests; and therefore there could be no alliance. This remains the consensus view.⁵ There is, however, ample scope for re-examining the 1898 alliance talks, their origins, course, and wider signiﬁcance within their proper context, the China Question. The motives behind Chamberlain’s overture of March 1898 have been as much the subject of debate as the alliance talks themselves. By 1897 the genial ² Curzon to Salisbury (private), 11 Apr. 1898, Salisbury MSS, 3M/E/1/118. ³ For traditional views blaming Berlin for the failure of the talks, see E. Fischer, Holsteins Grosses Nein: Die deutsch-englischen Bündnisverhandlungen von 1898–1901 (Berlin, 1925), 59–62; H. Bächtold, ‘Der entscheidende Wendepunkt der Vorkriegszeit’, WWA xx, 3 (1924), 381–407; E. Kehr, ‘Deutschenglisches Bündnisproblem der Jahrhundertwende’, DG v, 11 (1928), 211–29; F. Meinecke, Geschichte des deutsch-englischen Bündnisproblems, 1890–1901 (Munich, repr. 1972 [1927]), 236–7, 251–7. ⁴ G. Ritter, Die Legende von der verschmähten englischen Freundschaft 1898/1901: Beleuchtet aus der neuen englischen Aktenveröffentlichung (Freiburg, 1929), passim; G. Roloff, ‘Die Bündnisverhandlungen zwischen Deutschland und England, 1898–1901’, BM vii, 11 (1929), 1171 and 1221–2; but see idem, ‘Die Verhandlungen über ein deutsch-englisches Bündnis, 1898–1901’, PrJb clxxvii, 3 (1926), 345–64. ⁵ J. A. S. Grenville, Lord Salisbury and Foreign Policy: The Close of the Nineteenth Century (London, 1970 (pb)), 160–1; C. J. Lowe, Reluctant Imperialists: British Foreign Policy, 1878–1902 (New York, 1969), 233; H. W. Koch, ‘The Anglo-German Alliance Negotiations: Missed Opportunity or Myth ?’, History liv, 3 (1969), 378–92; P. M. Kennedy, ‘German World Policy and Alliance Negotiations with England, 1897–1900’, JMH xlv, 4 (1973), 605–25. For an earlier version of this argument see J. D. Bickford and E. N. Johnson, ‘The Contemplated Anglo-German Alliance, 1890–1901’, PSQ, xlii, 1 (1927), 1–57.

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relations between Prime Minister and Colonial Secretary at the beginning of the administration had become strained. Chamberlain differed from the premier on imperial matters. Salisbury’s benign negativity aggravated the situation. Throughout 1897 Chamberlain had been much exercised by Salisbury’s ‘most discouraging’, for lenient stance towards France in the Niger question.⁶ Salisbury’s passive acceptance of the forcibly altered status quo in the Far East reinforced Chamberlain’s conviction that the Prime Minister was no longer capable of defending Britain’s overseas interests. Little was to be expected of him: ‘If only Lord Salisbury sees the peril and is prepared to meet it I would rather leave to him the methods than rush in with what may be impossible suggestions’, he complained to Balfour in early February 1898.⁷ For Chamberlain, Salisbury’s Chinese complacency was unacceptable. Reginald Esher, then Secretary to the Ofﬁce of Works and an old acquaintance of Chamberlain’s, noted the latter’s chaﬁng at the situation: ‘He talked of China and West Africa, and of France and Russia, with an amplitude of view and phrase that would have astonished Birmingham ten years ago. . . . we are at the parting of the way, and . . . we must stand fast for Imperial Expansion . . . ’.⁸ Salisbury’s failings seemed to manifest themselves everywhere. France was about to enlarge her West African possessions at the expense of Britain, and the government seemed unable or unwilling to take appropriate measures. Similarly, Britain appeared unprepared to meet the much graver complications in the Far East. Chamberlain anticipated an armed conﬂict with either France over the Niger question, or with Russia in China. On 12 March, two days before the Cabinet ﬁrst discussed the possible lease of Weihaiwei, he requested a meeting of the defence committee to consider these two eventualities, a measure indicative of the depth of Chamberlain’s concerns about Britain’s international position in March 1898.⁹ Chamberlain had no doubt that diplomatic isolation contributed to Britain’s international weakness. Because Britain, for all her naval power and the size of her Empire, could not count on an ally, she was exposed to the diplomatic manoeuvres of the other Powers. The logical remedy was an alliance with one of the continental nations. For ⁶ Chamberlain to Selborne (secret), 1 Dec. 1897, Selborne MSS, MS Selborne 8. ⁷ Chamberlain to Balfour (private), 3 Feb. 1898, Balfour MSS, Add.MSS. 49773. ⁸ Esher diary, 29 Jan. 1898, EJL i, 210–11; P. Fraser, Lord Esher: A Political Biography (London, 1973), 40–1. ⁹ Devonshire to Goschen (private), 12 Mar. 1898, Devonshire MSS, 340.2760; memo. Chamberlain, ‘Niger Negotiations’, 17 Mar. 1898, CAB 37/46/27; also Sanderson to O’Conor (private), 11 Mar. 1898, O’Conor MSS, OCON 6/1/15.

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reasons including Russian policy in Asia and French actions in Africa, the alliance between the two states, but also the old Radical’s suspicions of autocratic Russia, an arrangement with either was unattractive to Chamberlain. Under these circumstances an approach to Germany seemed to make sense. This was no new departure for Chamberlain. Earlier in his career, in 1889, he had expressed his wish for better relations with Germany. His desire to join her was not solely driven by strictly diplomatic calculations. Like many late Victorians, Chamberlain held Darwinian notions of international politics. His outlook was informed also by the then fashionable, racialist conceptions which underpinned the political discourse. He was strongly in favour of an alliance with the fellow Anglo-Saxon United States of America and the kindred Teutonic nation Germany, rather than with Slavs or Latins. The inﬂuence upon policymaking of these racialist notions, though not quantiﬁable, cannot be ignored. Furthermore, to the Unitarian Chamberlain an alliance with fellow-Protestant Germany may well have been a more congenial option than Catholic France.¹⁰ Chamberlain had an agenda of his own; and he had the charisma and the wider following in the country to enable him to launch political initiatives on his own: “Joe” was the one who made the weather.’¹¹ His personal political ambitions were no doubt also a motivating force: if he succeeded in initiating an alliance with Germany, then this coup would perhaps ﬁnally enable him to climb to the very top of the greasy pole; it most certainly would have given him greater control over the formulation of British foreign and imperial policy. Joseph Chamberlain was a political hyena. He sensed that Salisbury was weakened, and the circumstances were favourable to an attempt to pursue his alternative foreign policy. The ailing Prime Minister had left Britain and was now recuperating at Beaulieu in the south of France. Already before he left the country, he had ceased to preside over the meetings of the Cabinet. Once abroad, Salisbury had little inﬂuence over his ministers; indeed, it seems he was unaware of what passed in Cabinet during his absence. Balfour was left in charge at the Foreign Ofﬁce. The Duke of Devonshire, the most senior minister after Salisbury presided over the ministerial meetings.¹² It was a curious ¹⁰ There is an interesting parallel here with Lloyd George, cf. K. O. Morgan, ‘Lloyd George and Germany’, HJ xxxix, 4 (1996), 755–66. For a discussion of ‘race’, see W. Mock, ‘The Function of “Race” in Imperialist Ideologies: The Example of Joseph Chamberlain’, Nationalist and Racialist Movements in Britain and Germany Before 1914, ed. P. M. Kennedy and A. J. Nicholls (London, 1981), 190–203; S. Anderson, Race and Rapprochement: Anglo-Saxonism and Anglo-American Relations, 1895–1904 (London and Toronto, 1981), 87–90. ¹¹ W. S. Churchill, Great Contemporaries (London, rev.edn 1938), 72. ¹² Alice Blanche Balfour diary, 15 Mar. 1898, Whittinghame Muniment MSS, GD 433/2/224; Devonshire to Goschen (private), 23 Mar. 1898, Devonshire MSS, 340.2762.

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combination. The lethargic Duke did not exercise much control over his fellow ministers. Balfour’s competencies at the Foreign Ofﬁce were ill-deﬁned. His brief spells at that department as Salisbury’s deputy created a dual leadership of sorts. Over a decade later Francis Bertie recalled that ‘in the later days of Lord Salisbury’s time as [Foreign] Secretary . . . he and Arthur Balfour were not always at one and the uncle was rather jealous of the nephew in his management of the Foreign Ofﬁce during the uncle’s absence’.¹³ Balfour himself complained that ‘I have not been treated very kindly by Providence during my brief occupation of the post of Secretary for Foreign Affairs.’¹⁴ Crucially, he and Devonshire were broadly sympathetic with Chamberlain’s views on foreign policy. The Duke shared Chamberlain’s special interest in the Far East, while Balfour had only reluctantly supported Salisbury’s China policy in February and March 1898. In the summer of 1898 he reﬂected that Salisbury ‘had not managed the China question well’.¹⁵ Balfour was an experienced and coolly analytical operator, one of the few ministers with a genuine grasp of the problems of imperial strategy. Like Chamberlain, he was concerned about British weaknesses. After the Cabinet’s acceptance of Weihaiwei, his dormant concerns resurfaced. Acquiring the base merely worsened Britain’s overall strategic position. He was by no means sure, as he told Goschen privately, that ‘we may not fall between two stools’.¹⁶ Thus, in Salisbury’s absence from London in late March and April 1898, the government was without an authoritative leader and without a consistent and agreed foreign policy; and those left in charge of the Foreign Ofﬁce and Cabinet broadly sympathized with an alternative foreign policy agenda. This was signiﬁcant, for without at least the tacit support of Devonshire and Balfour, Chamberlain would have been in no position to launch an alternative diplomatic initiative. ‘Radical Joe’ was an unorthodox ﬁgure in British politics, but he could not operate outside the existing political and social framework. Through his political association with the Duke he had gained access to the Duchess’s exclusive ‘Chatsworth set’. Here he renewed his acquaintance with the First Secretary at the German Embassy in London, Hermann Baron von Eckardstein. The secret of the anglophile Eckardstein’s diplomatic role in ¹³ Bertie to Grey (private), 12 Jan. 1912, Grey MSS, FO 800/176; also Wyndham to Hurd, 23 Jan. 1898, Life and Letters of George Wyndham, ed. J. W. Mackail and G. Wyndham (2 vols., London, s.a.) i, 327; Steiner, Foreign Ofﬁce, 26. ¹⁴ Balfour to Hicks Beach (private), 30 Aug. 1898, Hicks Beach MSS, PCC/88. ¹⁵ Alice Blanche Balfour diary, 11 Aug. 1898, Whittinghame Muniment MSS, GD 433/2/224; see Curzon to Salisbury (private), 11 Apr. 1898, Salisbury MSS, 3M/E/1/118. ¹⁶ Balfour to Goschen (private), 23 Mar. 1898, Balfour MSS, Add. MSS. 49706.

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London between 1898 and 1901 lay in his social connections. Popular in London Society, he was married to the daughter of Sir Blundell Maple, a successful businessman-turned-Conservative MP. Through him Eckardstein was admitted to the Turf Club, the haunt of Society race-goers.¹⁷ In this circle Eckardstein made the acquaintance of Henry Chaplin, a member of the ‘anti-Weihaiwei’ group and an advocate of a rapprochement with Germany.¹⁸ Eckardstein and Chaplin were also closely associated with Alfred de Rothschild, an eccentric millionaire, art collector, and ﬂamboyant man-abouttown.¹⁹ He was also the Rothschild ﬁrm’s ofﬁcial contact man with politics. A seasoned observer of political life, with many contacts with leading politicians of all colours, Rothschild was careful to cultivate relations with Chamberlain; and the latter valued Rothschild’s ideas as ‘perfectly sound’.²⁰ The soirées at ‘Mr Alfred’s’ town house or the lavish weekend parties at his extravagant country mansion were well-known gatherings of the powerful of the time. They also provided venues for private discussions between Cabinet ministers and foreign diplomats. Rothschild was himself a dilettante diplomatist. On close terms with German diplomats, he frequently acted as a go-between in conﬁdential business between the German embassy and the Foreign Ofﬁce. Desirous to help to foster closer Anglo-German ties, by the mid-1890s he had become ‘the principal and most powerful champion . . . for [sic] an understanding between England and Germany’.²¹ This was the circle in which Chamberlain moved, and whose support was as crucial for his political clout as his popular appeal. The members of this circle were also to play important roles at different stages during Chamberlain’s clandestine alliance initiative. According to Eckardstein, the crucial event was ¹⁷ Eckardstein to Chamberlain (private), 5 Oct. 1899, Chamberlain MSS, JC 7/2/2B/7; see H. W. Lucy, A Diary of the Unionist Parliament, 1895–1900 (Bristol, 1901), 129; R. Kühlmann, Erinnerungen (Heidelberg, 1948), 194. ¹⁸ Chaplin to Balfour (private), 31 Mar. and n.d. [1 Apr.1898], Balfour MSS, Add.MSS. 49772; Londonderry, Retrospect, 25–6; idem, Henry Chaplin, 141–2 and 282–4. ¹⁹ McDonnell to Salisbury (private), 3 Dec. 1896, Salisbury MSS, 3M/E/A.C. de Rothschild; Alfred Rothschild obituary, The Times (1 Feb. 1918); E. C. Corti, The Reign of the House of Rothschild (London, 1928), 453–7; N. de Rothschild, ‘Alfred de Rothschild and “Le Style Rothschild” ’ (unpubl. thesis, s.loc., 1973). ²⁰ Chamberlain to Rothschild (conﬁdential), 8 Apr. 1897, Chamberlain MSS, JC 7/2/22/2; see Rothschild to Hartington, 25 Apr. 1885, Devonshire MSS, 340.1752; Churchill to Rothschild, 6 July 1885, and 6 Nov. 1890, RAL, XI/109/127; Rothschild to Sandars (private), 1 Apr. 1910, Sandars MSS, MSS.Eng.hist. c. 760. ²¹ Anon. memo. [probably by Eckardstein], n.d. [1912 or 1913], in Rothschild, ‘Alfred Rothschild’, app.; Rothschild to Salisbury (private & conﬁdential), 16 Jan. 1899, and McDonnell to Salisbury (private), 30 Mar. 1897, Salisbury MSS, 3M/E/A.C. de Rothschild.

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a political dinner party at Alfred Rothschild’s Mayfair house, attended by the Duke of Devonshire, Chaplin, Chamberlain, and Eckardstein. After a lengthy post-prandial discussion of the Far Eastern situation and its likely impact on European commerce, it was suggested that a meeting between Chamberlain and the German ambassador ought to be arranged. The purpose of this meeting was ‘to discuss in a friendly spirit the relations between England and Germany and to try to come to an agreement for a cooperation in China where Russia’s attitude . . . became somewhat aggressive’.²² Rothschild duly invited Hatzfeldt to his house for 26 March. Some Cabinet ministers, probably including Balfour and Chamberlain, would be present; and he also intimated that ‘a conﬁdential attempt at a rapprochement’ was contemplated. According to Balfour’s deliberately vague recollection, the meeting was to be between himself and Hatzfeldt only: ‘It was at the moment when things were approaching their hottest in conjunction with Port Arthur, and as I thought some good and no harm could come of it, I accepted.’²³ The initiative clearly came from Chamberlain and his clique.²⁴ The context of the events in the Far East throws into sharper relief the motivation and signiﬁcance of the approach to Germany. On 24 March, the Foreign Ofﬁce received news that the Russian government did not intend to withdraw its squadron from Port Arthur and Talienwan. The ailing Salisbury was set to leave for France on 26 March. Balfour, his deputy, meanwhile, grew increasingly concerned about Russian ambitions in northern China. Russia had now obtained a dominant position there, and would soon make her inﬂuence felt at the Peking court. Balfour thought Salisbury’s response inadequate. By taking Weihaiwei Britain would snub Germany, without effectively checking Russian expansion in the region.²⁵ ²² Anon. memo, n.d., in Rothschild, ‘Alfred Rothschild’, app.; H. Freiherr von Eckardstein, Lebenserinnerungen und politische Denkwürdigkeiten (3 vols., Leipzig, 1920) i, 292–3. Eckardstein gives late February as the date of the meeting, but in the context of events a date between 16 and 24 March 1898 seems more likely. ²³ Balfour to Salisbury (private), 14 Apr. 1898, Balfour MSS, Add.MSS. 49691; tel. Hatzfeldt to Holstein (private), 24 Mar. 1898, GP xiv/1, no. 3779. Eckardstein’s claim that he arranged the meeting could not be veriﬁed, see Eckardstein, Lebenserinnerungen i, 293. ²⁴ Professor Grenville’s argument that Hatzfeldt was playing a complicated double game with the Wilhelmstrasse, and that he had taken the initiative, is based on a misunderstanding of the close Hatzfeldt–Holstein relationship, see Grenville, Salisbury and Foreign Policy, 151. Hatzfeldt’s indolence, his ill-health, and his close ties with Salisbury also make it unlikely that he should have risked his relations with the Foreign Secretary by circumventing established diplomatic channels, Lascelles to Sanderson (private), 19 Mar. 1898, Lascelles MSS, FO 800/17; F. von Trotha, Fritz von Holstein als Mensch und Politiker (Berlin, 1931), 94; L. Cecil, The German Diplomatic Service, 1871–1914 (Princeton, 1976), 229–30. ²⁵ Tel. O’Conor to Salisbury (no. 57), 23 Mar. 1898 (received 24 Mar.), BD i, no. 37; see Lord Askwith, Lord James of Hereford (London, 1930), 253–4.

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The latest news from St Petersburg changed the outlook of the anti-isolationist group within the Cabinet. Moreover, since 25 March, Admiral Seymour was at sea near Chefoo, and as soon as MacDonald had obtained China’s ﬁnal consent would move on Weihaiwei.²⁶ Urgent action seemed imperative, lest Balfour’s fears about falling between two stools became a reality. Through Alfred Rothschild he arranged an urgent meeting with Hatzfeldt. The meeting took place on 25 March, before the Cabinet on Weihaiwei. It was again held in the sumptuous seclusion of Rothschild’s Mayfair house: ‘there was an inﬁnity of talk, out of the nebulous friendliness of which I really gathered that the Germans did not at all like Joe’s methods of procedure in Africa, and felt aggrieved at our protest about Shantung Railways.’²⁷ Balfour’s account was as amusing as it was misleading. It was certainly meant to diminish his own role in the talks. According to Hatzfeldt’s report of the meeting, Balfour repeatedly emphasized his friendly sentiments during the conversations, and hinted at the desirability of a rapprochement and a better and lasting understanding between Britain and Germany. He conﬁned himself to offering a general tour d’horizon of Anglo-German relations and current international problems. The interview of 25 March was of an exploratory nature. There was no urgent business between the two governments that required Balfour to converse at length with the German ambassador at a private location about the state of international politics in general. However, both men were careful operators, and merely extended cautious feelers. Surveying the course of the subsequent talks in early April, Hatzfeldt concluded that in the interview of 25 March Balfour had meant ‘to reconnoitre the terrain’, and that it was merely the opening move in a series of further discussions with Chamberlain.²⁸ The interview with Balfour encouraged Hatzfeldt’s hopes for the forthcoming talk with Chamberlain. The interview originally scheduled for 26 March was now postponed, apparently at Balfour’s suggestion, to give the ambassador the opportunity to wire for fresh instructions. Previously, Hatzfeldt had been somewhat reluctant to meet Chamberlain, ‘because Salisbury and I had ²⁶ Tel. Admiralty to Seymour (no. 49), 25 Mar. 1898, ADM 125/88; Goschen to Balfour (private), 27 Mar. 1898, Balfour MSS, Add.MSS. 49706. ²⁷ Balfour to Salisbury (private), 14 Apr. 1898, Balfour MSS, Add.MSS. 46961. According to Balfour’s account the meeting had always been scheduled for this day, though this was quite clearly not the case. ²⁸ Tel. Hatzfeldt to Bülow (no. 62), 25 Mar. 1898, and Hatzfeldt to Hohenlohe (no. 324, geheim), 7 Apr. 1898, GP xiv/1, nos. 3781 and 3789. This impression is also conﬁrmed by information given by Eckardstein, Chaplin to Balfour (private), n.d. [1 Apr. 1898], Balfour MSS, Add.MSS. 49772.

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agreed—this being a precondition of our conﬁdential relations—that I would establish contact on business matters with other ministers in special cases only and with his express approval’. Since Salisbury had not given his approval, Balfour’s involvement was crucial. Given his close family ties with the Prime Minister and his ofﬁcial position, his backing of the talks with Chamberlain was as good as Salisbury’s approval. Still, Hatzfeldt was under no illusion ‘that Chamberlain will do nothing for us unless he expects some political advantage from us in England’s critical position’. This last remark is signiﬁcant. The meeting with Balfour seemed to conﬁrm earlier evidence of British interest in a rapprochement with Berlin. The Duke of Cumberland, for instance, had recently told the German ambassador at Paris of Britain’s sincere wish for closer ties.²⁹ Bülow now instructed Hatzfeldt to urge British ministers to be more accommodating towards Italian aspirations for a port in Eastern Africa, so reverting to the well-tried Bismarckian method of binding Britain to the German-led Triple Alliance through cooperation with Berlin’s junior partner. Bülow anticipated that Chamberlain would make more far-reaching proposals, and suggested that Hatzfeldt ought ‘to add something about England’s habit of exploiting her friends’.³⁰ This amounted to an invitation to the British to make proposals for more than a colonial understanding. From the German perspective, Balfour’s involvement was of signal importance, not only because of his political position, but also because of his familial ties to Salisbury with all that implied for socially conscious continentals.³¹ If Chamberlain needed Balfour’s support, the latter did not regard his own role as merely that of a facilitator; nor did he give Chamberlain carte blanche. Balfour and Chamberlain moved in tandem. This was partly from choice, as both had misgivings about the current state of foreign affairs; and partly it was from necessity. Chamberlain needed Balfour’s support if he wanted to make a successful bid for an Anglo-German understanding. Balfour, on the other hand, may well have realized that it was better to give Chamberlain some rope, rather than to block him. That Balfour did not block Chamberlain is indicative of both the depth of Balfour’s unease at Britain’s international position and the ²⁹ Tel. Hatzfeldt to Holstein (private), 26 Mar. 1898, HP iv, no. 644. For Cumberland, see E. M. Carroll, Germany and the Great Powers, 1866–1914: A Study of Public Opinion and Foreign Policy (New York, 1938), 396. ³⁰ Tel. Bülow to Hatzfeldt (private), 27 Mar. 1898, HP iv, no. 645; Schwabach to Rothschild, 29 Mar. 1898 (copy), Balfour MSS, Add.MSS. 49772. ³¹ For German suspicions of Chamberlain, see Hatzfeldt to Hohenlohe (nos. 218 and 234), 15 and 21 Mar. 1896, GP xi, nos. 2639 and 2715. The social dimension of European diplomacy is often overlooked by historians, see D. Lieven, The Aristocracy in Europe, 1815–1914 (London, 1992), 201–10.

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negative strength of Chamberlain’s position within the government. The latter had the potential to disrupt the government. In early February he had warned Balfour that, if the present vacillation over China were to continue, ‘I would not give a year’s life to the Government.’³² Given the sizeable Unionist majority in Parliament and Liberal disunity, this was overblown rhetoric, unless Chamberlain meant to threaten his resignation if no ﬁrm policy were adopted. Since Balfour was charged with handling government business in the Commons, it was natural that Chamberlain should inform him rather than Salisbury. So far Chamberlain had failed to carry his colleagues with him. The decisions of 22 and 25 March in favour of leasing Weihaiwei were a conﬁrmation of established policy, and a setback for him. Given the Colonial Secretary’s mounting disenchantment with Salisbury, he was more likely to be kept within the Unionist fold if he were allowed his head. Moreover, since Chamberlain needed his support, Balfour would be able to exercise some degree of control over Chamberlain. If the talks yielded positive results, Chamberlain could not claim sole credit for the success. If, as was more likely, the talks failed, Balfour could disown him. If they failed badly, Chamberlain would be seriously damaged politically. Whatever the outcome, then, Chamberlain would not be able to move ahead of Balfour in the race eventually to succeed Salisbury, an eventuality now liberally speculated upon publicly in the press, and privately in Westminster circles.³³ Chamberlain’s meeting with Hatzfeldt had been postponed until 29 March. It took place ‘at a private house’, presumably Rothschild’s. As instructed, Hatzfeldt opened the discussion by raising colonial questions, especially the neutral zone in West Africa and railway concessions in Shantung. Chamberlain made soothing noises, but according to his version of events ‘this part of the conversation was in the nature of a skirmish’. Chamberlain explained ‘that on [the] greater issues the interests of Germany were really identical with our own’. Chamberlain’s exposition of the respective interests of the two countries did not much differ from Balfour’s statement to Hatzfeldt on 25 March. The ambassador concurred with Chamberlain’s analysis, and suggested that ‘he did not see why a better understanding could not now be arrived at’. He then dwelt on general aspects of Britain’s foreign policy. There was a general impression among continental politicians that it was Britain’s policy ‘to bring about a war between other Powers, but to have no part in it herself ’. This had caused ³² Chamberlain to Balfour (secret), 3 Feb. 1898, Chamberlain MSS, JC 5/5/78. ³³ The Times (24 and 26 Mar. 1898); see Brodrick to Selborne (private), 16 Aug. 1898, Selborne MSS, MS Selborne 2.

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‘irritation and distrust’, and it might push Germany towards Russia. Hatzfeldt’s statement was fully in line with Bülow’s instructions. In the context of a possible Anglo-Russian conﬂict in the Far East, it was a clear signal that Germany would remain neutral. The Colonial Secretary moved the discussion to more fundamental questions. Britain had for many years pursued ‘a policy of isolation—or at least non-entanglement in alliances’. When Chamberlain then posed the question whether this policy could last, the ambassador replied: ‘Certainly not. Before long it must be changed.’ The interview was now touching upon a subject not covered by Hatzfeldt’s instructions. Nevertheless, in suggesting that isolation as a policy would be of limited durability, the ambassador merely echoed what could be read in the pages of the daily papers and periodicals. Chamberlain volunteered the observation that the policy ‘may be changed by circumstances which are too strong for us to resist’. In the course of the ensuing discussion, according to Chamberlain, ‘the following suggestions were evolved: That an alliance might be established by Treaty or Agreement between Germany and Great Britain for a term of years. But it should be of a defensive character based upon mutual understanding on the policy in China & elsewhere.’³⁴ In Hatzfeldt’s report it was clearly his interlocutor who took the initiative with the candid admission that the current international situation rendered impossible the traditional ‘policy of isolation’. Britain and Germany had identical political interests; ‘possibly existing little colonial differences could be mended, if one could simultaneously reach an understanding on the greater political interests’. Chamberlain added that Britain had reacted somewhat coolly to Germany’s seizure of Kiaochow only because of the anticipated largerscale Russian and French demands for compensation. Hatzfeldt observed that it was in Britain’s own interest not to obstruct Germany in Shantung lest Germany be driven into the Russian fold. The Colonial Secretary agreed. The government had ‘to take serious decisions within the next few days’. Stressing the urgency of the situation, he repeated his wish for an understanding with Germany and her allies; the ‘current policy of isolation’ had to be abandoned. Chamberlain suggested a defensive alliance between Britain and Germany: ‘This would mean the joining of the Triple Alliance by England.’ According to Hatzfeldt ‘Chamberlain spoke calmly and ﬁrmly and expressed with great frankness the desire for a binding agreement between England and the Triple Alliance. He repeated many times that no time must be lost in this matter.’³⁵ ³⁴ Memo. Chamberlain, 29 Mar. 1898, Chamberlain MSS, JC 7/2/2A/3. The text in Garvin, Life of Chamberlain iii, 259–60, deviates slightly from the original. ³⁵ Tel. Hatzfeldt to Bülow (private), 29 Mar. 1898, GP xiv/1, no. 3782.

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Chamberlain’s account of the ﬁrst meeting with Hatzfeldt is ambivalent at best. According to his memorandum, the alliance proposal was made ‘in the course of questions & answers’. But, if Hatzfeldt was playing a double game, as Professor Grenville has suggested, it is inexplicable that he did not repeat the proposal when he saw Balfour in the afternoon of the same day—much to the latter’s amusement, for Chamberlain had just informed him about the earlier conversation.³⁶ Balfour had earlier expressed his desire for an understanding with Germany; and, on that occasion, Hatzfeldt had formed the impression that Balfour was prepared to make more deﬁnite proposals. All the more reason, then, for Hatzfeldt to repeat an alliance proposal; especially since both he and Holstein recognized the importance of cultivating relations with Balfour.³⁷ Time was pressing, and Chamberlain was convinced that Britain was ‘at the parting of the ways’.³⁸ The fact that Chamberlain informed Balfour of the substance of his ﬁrst talk was indicative of the need to retain his support. Balfour’s role was by no means passive; nor did it end after his meeting with Hatzfeldt on 25 March. Their next meeting, in the afternoon of 29 March, a few hours after the ﬁrst Chamberlain–Hatzfeldt talk, was an ofﬁcial interview at the Foreign Ofﬁce. Its ostensible purpose was to discuss railway disputes in China. Balfour advanced, ‘as a purely informal suggestion’, the idea of a China agreement, which ‘should bind the two governments not to press for railway concessions in the areas in which one of them had special interests’.³⁹ In substance, this amounted to a formal understanding on the mutual recognition of (railway) spheres of inﬂuence in China, thus providing a practical example of how the Anglo-German China agreement that Chamberlain had suggested could operate.⁴⁰ The fact that he made the proposal, however informally, provides further evidence of the at least initial cooperation between the two leading Unionist frontbenchers. Indeed, the three meetings with Hatzfeldt between 25 and 29 March suggest a division of labour between them. Balfour prepared the ground for the initiative; Chamberlain sketched out the broad outlines of some defensive arrangement with Germany; and Balfour then suggested a more pragmatic gradual approach, which no doubt also suited the cautious Hatzfeldt better than Chamberlain’s grand vision. ³⁶ Balfour to Salisbury (private), 14 Apr. 1898, Balfour MSS, Add.MSS. 49691; note on memo. Chamberlain, 29 Mar. 1898, Chamberlain MSS, JC 7/2/2A/3; Grenville, Salisbury, 151. ³⁷ Tel. Hatzfeldt to Bülow (no. 62), 25 Mar. 1898, GP xiv/1, no. 3781; tel. Holstein to Hatzfeldt (private), 28 Mar. 1898, HP iv, no. 647. ³⁸ Esher diary, 29 Jan. 1898, EJL i, 210–11. ³⁹ Sanderson to Lascelles (no. 75), 29 Mar. 1898, FO 64/1437. ⁴⁰ Memo. Chamberlain, 29 Mar. 1898, Chamberlain MSS, JC 7/2/2A/3.

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Balfour’s and Chamberlain’s discussions indicated how China had provided the impetus for a possible end to British isolation. Indeed, the general instability caused by the China Question had not yet come to an end. During the early stage of the approach to Hatzfeldt, Balfour and Chamberlain performed a complicated double act. While the Colonial Secretary made his opening move, Balfour and certain Cabinet ministers attempted to change Britain’s Far Eastern policy. So strong was the undercurrent of opposition to Salisbury’s policy that, in his absence, anti-isolationist ministers sought to reverse the decision of 25 March to lease Weihaiwei. Further information from MacDonald, indicating doubts about the base’s strategic value, stirred the ‘anti-Weihaiwei group’ into action. Their attempt to reverse ofﬁcial policy was linked to Chamberlain’s clandestine talks. Balfour and Henry Chaplin discussed MacDonald’s wire on the night of 31 March. Chaplin thought that the decision on the question ‘is still open’, and suggested delaying ﬂeet action.⁴¹ This was no isolated move by a marginal political ﬁgure. Already on the previous day the Duke of Devonshire had expressed reservations about the lease. Goschen also had second thoughts, and argued that MacDonald had better ask for Chusan which was closer to Shanghai and Hong Kong; but also warned: ‘Don’t let us be too late. The ﬂeet cannot return without good results in its pockets.’⁴² The China Question and the alliance talks converged at this point. The anti-isolationist ministers were further encouraged in their attempts to change British policy by information received by Chaplin. He was in constant contact with Eckardstein, who told him on the evening of 31 March that a wire from Berlin had just been received at the embassy: ‘they agreed absolutely to the conditions, prepared & concurred in by Chamberlain’. Chaplin urged Balfour ‘that the arrangement may be carried out’. This was misleading, for no speciﬁc offers of a treaty had yet been made by either Chamberlain or Hatzfeldt; nor had the German Foreign Ofﬁce signalled its assent to any agreement.⁴³ This curious episode notwithstanding, Balfour also shared the doubts about Weihaiwei’s suitability as a counterpoise to Germany and Russia, but was careful not to oppose Salisbury openly. Balfour informed Devonshire that, given the time difference between London and Peking, it was now too late to countermand ⁴¹ Chaplin to Balfour (private), 1 Apr. 1898, Balfour MSS, Add.MSS. 49772; see tel. MacDonald to Salisbury (no. 108), 29 Mar. 1898, FO 17/1340; Nish, ‘Royal Navy’, 47. ⁴² Goschen to Balfour (private), n.d. [31 Mar. or 1 Apr. 1898], Balfour MSS, Add.MSS. 49706; Devonshire to Balfour, 30 Mar. 1898, ibid., Add.MSS. 49769. ⁴³ Chaplin to Balfour (private), 31 Mar. and n.d. (‘Friday night’) [1 Apr. 1898], Add.MSS. 49772.

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MacDonald’s and Seymour’s orders.⁴⁴ Balfour was experienced enough to realize that once Britain’s demand for Weihaiwei had been made known, the government could not very well withdraw it without gaining something in return. By giving up the claim to a Shantung port, British diplomacy would also lose whatever leverage it had over Germany with regard to Balfour’s suggestion of the mutual recognition of (railway) spheres of inﬂuence. At the same time, he kept open the option of a change of policy by offering Devonshire an immediate emergency meeting, so inviting the Duke to take responsibility for any change. This neither Devonshire nor any other minister was prepared to do, and the last-minute attempt to reverse the lease remained abortive. Chamberlain’s assumption that Germany would prove receptive to his alliance proposal was ﬂawed. Bülow was convinced that the prospect of Germany’s armed neutrality in a war between Britain and the Franco-Russian combination would sufﬁce to deter these two powers from attacking Britain. If such deterrence failed, and Britain were defeated in such a conﬂict, France and Russia would soon turn on Germany. As long as Britain’s power remained undiminished, the status quo in Europe would remain intact. Germany’s self-preservation instinct, then, was the best guarantee of British security. Bülow was convinced that time was against Britain. The Siberian railway would be completed within the next ten years and so would Russia’s military preparations along India’s troublesome frontier. By then it might be impossible to keep Russia neutral. Germany could wait; the longer she waited, the readier Britain would be to conclude an alliance on Germany’s terms.⁴⁵ Hatzfeldt next met Chamberlain at the Colonial Ofﬁce on 1 April, and suggested that in the Far East Britain ‘had difﬁculties with Russia and France which might lead to war with either of these Powers’. Britain on her own would no doubt remain victorious in an Anglo-French conﬂict; but a war which pitted Britain against the Franco-Russian alliance would ultimately cripple Britain’s sea power. Such a war was inevitable if Britain and Russia were to clash over China. German interests argued ‘against any policy which would . . . cripple the Sea Power of England’. France and Russia would then turn on Germany. Germany, therefore, could not join an anti-British combination: ‘Treaty or no Treaty the most we had to anticipate from them was that they would remain neutral.’ Hatzfeldt counselled that Britain ought to arrive at a modus vivendi with Russia respecting China. This would neutralize the risk of Russian intervention in an Anglo-French clash in Africa.⁴⁶ ⁴⁴ Balfour to Devonshire, 31 Mar. 1898, Balfour MSS, Add.MSS. 49769. ⁴⁵ Tel. Bülow to Hatzfeldt (no. 89, geheim), 30 Mar. 1898, GP xiv/1, no. 3783. ⁴⁶ Memo. Chamberlain, 1 Apr. 1898, Chamberlain MSS, BUL, JC 7/2/2A/4.

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The German desire to push Britain into a war with France was too transparent. Chamberlain concurred with Hatzfeldt’s judgement regarding a war with France, but was unwilling to consider an understanding with Russia. Russian and French advances in China could only be checked ‘if England can rely on a powerful alliance such as one with Germany’.⁴⁷ Britain’s parliamentary system was no real obstacle to an alliance, and ratiﬁcation represented no problem. As Balfour later informed Salisbury, ‘[t]he whole tenor of the communication . . . [was] in favour of a closer union between the two countries.’⁴⁸ Hatzfeldt’s line of argument bore a superﬁcial resemblance to Salisbury’s own reasoning in early January 1898 when he had embarked upon his quest for an Anglo-Russian agreement. This was testimony to the ambassador’s ability to ‘read’ the Foreign Secretary. There was an important difference. Salisbury, anticipating a clash with France over the Upper Nile, wished to avoid exposure to Russia. The Germans, by contrast, were anxious not to be caught in an Anglo-Russian confrontation in Asia, and therefore encouraged a compromise between these two Asiatic powers. They had, however, every incentive to encourage an Anglo-French war, since a British victory would effectively disable the Franco-Russian alliance, and so restore to Germany the diplomatic freedom of manouevre she had enjoyed before 1894, without having to resort to force themselves. China was at the core of Chamberlain’s initiative. He anticipated further Russian encroachments upon Chinese territory: ‘We object most strongly to what we think she may and will obtain.’ The principal aim of the proposed Anglo-German understanding was to prevent further Russian aggression in China and to secure common interests there. It would keep China open for foreign trade. Only on the basis of an agreement of this sort would it be possible for both countries to adopt a much stronger attitude towards France and Russia. More speciﬁcally, he envisaged a joint Anglo-German protectorate over most of the Chinese Empire. Once such an agreement was concluded, an arrangement with Russia to maintain the status quo in China might prove feasible. If St Petersburg declined, China should be declared to be ‘under our joint protection’. In practical terms this meant special German and British protection zones over Shantung ‘& the provinces in the hinterland’ and the central provinces along the Yangtze respectively. Both Powers would ‘establish there, in the name & on behalf of China, such control over the ﬁnancial administration or would secure sufﬁcient funds to provide an army ⁴⁷ Tel. Hatzfeldt to Bülow (no. 71), 1 Apr. 1898, GP xiv/1, no. 3784. ⁴⁸ Balfour to Salisbury, 14 Apr. 1898, Balfour MSS, Add. MSS. 49461; memo. Chamberlain, 1 Apr. 1898, Chamberlain MSS., JC 7/2/2A/4.

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under German [and British] ofﬁcers’. Such an arrangement would help to contain Russian expansionism in Asia. Russia would not only face the prospect of ‘a war with two Great European Powers but also the defensive forces of China organised & led by European ofﬁcers’.⁴⁹ In essence, this was an elaboration of Balfour’s vague suggestion of a mutual recognition of spheres of inﬂuence in China. Hatzfeldt was quick to note a change in the thrust of Chamberlain’s argument. He had left the meeting of 29 March with the impression that Chamberlain had solicited German support for a forward policy in Asia to deprive Russia of her Liaotung booty. Now Chamberlain suggested joint protection of China against further Russian encroachments, and the maintenance of open commerce there. In return, Britain would grant Germany ‘special advantages in China. Herr Chamberlain virtually pointed out that a larger extension of our sphere of interest in the hinterland of Kiaochow would no doubt be desirable to us.’ The ambassador further noted with interest Chamberlain’s comment that in the China question ‘the Cabinet itself did not yet know which course it would follow’.⁵⁰ In light of the simultaneous efforts to reverse the decision in favour of leasing Weihaiwei, Chamberlain’s statement is suggestive of a wider and more coherent effort to reorientate British policy than has been accepted by historians. Up to this point, Hatzfeldt’s and Chamberlain’s accounts of the interview of 1 April are remarkably similar. According to Chamberlain, the conversation now took another turn. He suggested that the two countries ought to make common course in the event of a Russian attack on Britain. Acknowledging Germany’s exposed geostrategic position and her special security requirements, the proposed agreement should be of a defensive nature, and it should be no ‘one-sided agreement’. Germany could rely on Britain’s support in the event of a Russian attack upon her. Crucially, Hatzfeldt made no reference to this proposal of a mutual defence pact, but merely paraphrased Chamberlain’s assurance that any treaty would be ratiﬁed by Parliament. Quite conceivably, in light of Bülow’s earlier instructions, the ambassador had come to conclude that the government in Berlin would never agree to an alliance—hence his emphasis on the limited nature of the proposed agreement. Given Bülow’s opposition this was the most attainable at present. At the conclusion of the meeting, Chamberlain explained that he had not made the proposal in an ofﬁcial capacity: ‘no ofﬁcial step could possibly be taken in such a matter without Lord ⁴⁹ Memo. Chamberlain, 1 Apr. 1898, Chamberlain MSS, JC 7/2/2A/4. ⁵⁰ Tel. Hatzfeldt to Bülow (no. 71, ganz geheim), 1 Apr. 1898, GP xiv/1, no. 3784.

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Salisbury’s consent.’ Still, Chamberlain informed Balfour and the Cabinet defence committee that on the whole the Germans were ‘in favour of a closer union between the countries’.⁵¹ This was wishful thinking, for Chamberlain’s initiative had begun to unravel. Balfour was back-pedalling, and the Germans remained unreceptive. It was not in Germany’s interest to play the part accorded her in Britain’s ‘chestnut policy’.⁵² By early April, moreover, Balfour had grown weary of Chamberlain’s initiative. On 3 April, MacDonald had obtained the Tsungli Yamên’s agreement to the lease of Weihaiwei.⁵³ A radically different China policy was now impossible, for the base’s close proximity to Kiaochow ensured that the Germans would reject his overture. Balfour now distanced himself from Chamberlain’s private diplomacy, and informed Salisbury of the meetings with Hatzfeldt. It is indicative of the growing divergence of views between Balfour and Chamberlain, as well as Balfour’s efforts to wrong-foot the latter, that he left Chamberlain in ignorance of this. Chamberlain’s plan for drastic action, Balfour told Salisbury, was ill-conceived: Joe is very impulsive; and the Cabinet discussion of the preceding day [viz. 25 March] had forced on his attention our isolated and occasionally difﬁcult position. He certainly went far in the expression of his own personal leaning towards a German alliance . . . and I believe even threw out a vague suggestion as to the form which an arrangement between the two countries might take. ⁵⁴

Balfour’s dismissal of Chamberlain’s dilettante diplomacy was disingenuous, cloaking in ridicule an initiative which he himself had more than just condoned. Crucially, his interview with Hatzfeldt on 5 April brought to an end the ﬁrst round of the alliance talks. Hatzfeldt declined the offer of another interview with Chamberlain. Circumstances did not allow for a sudden rapprochement. According to Hatzfeldt’s report, Balfour admitted that the chances of parliamentary ratiﬁcation were uncertain: ‘He added most conﬁdentially that it was a peculiarity of Herr Chamberlain’s to want to move too fast.’ Balfour’s remark ⁵¹ Memo. Chamberlain, 1 Apr. 1898, and min. Chamberlain, 1 Apr. 1898, Chamberlain MSS, JC 7/2/2A/4. ⁵² Holstein to Hatzfeldt, 3 Apr. 1898, HP iv, no. 648; Bülow to Hatzfeldt (private), 3 Apr. 1898, GP xiv/1, no. 3785. On Holstein’s conviction of a British ‘Kastanienpolitik’, see Trotha, Fritz von Holstein, 180. ⁵³ Chinese Secretary’s Ofﬁce, record book entry 2 Apr. 1898, FO 233/44; tel. MacDonald to Salisbury (no. 113), 3 Apr. 1898, BD i, no. 44. ⁵⁴ Salisbury to Balfour (private), 9 Apr. 1898, Balfour MSS, Add.MSS. 49691. On 22 April, Chamberlain told Eckardstein that Salisbury had not been informed, see memo. Chamberlain, 22 Apr. 1898, Chamberlain MSS, JC 7/2/2A/5.

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left Hatzfeldt with the impression that the failure of Chamberlain’s initiative was not unwelcome to him. He also concluded that Salisbury’s health would allow him to stay in ofﬁce, and that he would soon return to take charge of affairs. Given the importance that he and Wilhelmstrasse attached to his conﬁdential relations with Salisbury and Balfour, there was clearly nothing to be gained from pursuing Chamberlain’s offer further. At the end of his talk Hatzfeldt hinted at the possibility of a closer understanding in the future. This should be prepared ‘through mutual amenability in minor issues’.⁵⁵ Hatzfeldt lost no time in preserving his relations with the still absent Salisbury. In a lengthy private letter he assured him of his friendly sentiments and his willingness to work jointly with him for the ‘rétablissement graduel des anciennes relations d’amitié’.⁵⁶ Balfour’s interview with Hatzfeldt suggested an effort to distance himself from Chamberlain, but also revealed his ‘slower’ concept of diplomacy. He was not convinced of the need for drastic changes. True, he dissented from Salisbury’s assumption of Britain’s position of strength. He supported, in principle, the idea of a colonial arrangement with Germany. But he was wary of the price the Wilhelmstrasse might attempt to extract from Britain. He took great care to clarify his position to Salisbury: ‘altho[ugh] I am inclined to favour an Anglo-German agreement, it must, if possible, be made at the worst on equal terms. Of this loving couple I should wish to be the one that lent the cheek not that impressed the kiss. This . . . is not the German view; and they prefer . . . reserving their efforts until they are sure of being well paid for them.’ The interview of 5 April brought to an end ‘a curious episode, of which no records will be found at the F[oreign] O[fﬁce]’.⁵⁷ Balfour’s altogether more cautious attitude towards an Anglo-German rapprochement was favourably received at Berlin.⁵⁸ Neither Downing Street nor Wilhelmstrasse contemplated negotiations for a full alliance. The issue of a rapprochement with Germany, however, stayed on London’s agenda. Despite his back-pedalling on the larger issue, Balfour continued his efforts gradually to strengthen the existing ties with Berlin. China remained at the core of these endeavours. At the end of March he had suggested recognition of the respective German and British spheres of interest in northern China. During his last ⁵⁵ Balfour to Salisbury (private), 14 Apr. 1898, Balfour MSS, Add.MSS. 49691; tel. Hatzfeldt to Bülow (private), 5 Apr. 1898, GP xiv/1, no. 3786. ⁵⁶ Hatzfeldt to Salisbury (conﬁdential and private), 15 Apr. 1898, HatzP ii, no. 720. ⁵⁷ Balfour to Salisbury (private), 14 Apr. 1898, Balfour MSS, Add.MSS. 49691; Dugdale, Balfour i, 260. ⁵⁸ Tel. Bülow to Hatzfeldt, 6 Apr. 1898, GP xiv/1, no. 3787; Röhl, Wilhelm II ii, 972–3.

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interview with Hatzfeldt he had also signalled the government’s willingness to accommodate German interests in minor colonial matters. The announcement of the lease of a port in the vicinity of Kiaochow now seemed to contradict such friendly protestations. The acquisition of Weihaiwei, then, not only destroyed what slim chances there were of Chamberlain’s alliance project being realized; it also had the potential of wrecking Balfour’s more modest plans. Throughout February and March, the Germans had complained about Britain’s refusal to acknowledge Germany’s preferential rights in the commerce of Shantung province. When Lascelles informed the German government of the lease of Weihaiwei, Bülow demanded British recognition of German predominance in Shantung, and an undertaking not to build a railway between the new leasehold territory and the neighbouring treaty port of Chefoo or the Shantung hinterland. The implication was clear: recognition of Germany’s commercial preponderance in Shantung was the price to be paid for a general rapprochement with Germany. Balfour lost no time in the matter, and promised the self-negating pledge regarding railways, though this was not to include the planned Tientsin–Hankow line which would run through the eastern half of Shantung.⁵⁹ Moreover, during the China debate in Parliament, shortly before his interview with Hatzfeldt, he went to great lengths to stress the identity of British and German interests in China.⁶⁰ Balfour did not let the matter rest there. Although Hatzfeldt had reacted coolly to his suggestions about spheres of inﬂuence, Balfour persisted with the idea. In this he was encouraged by George Curzon, who accepted the desirability of ‘some deﬁnite understanding as to ﬁscal, industrial & commercial policy in China with Germany’.⁶¹ Discussing the matter with Sanderson, Balfour observed that Germany’s real object was to prevent the construction of British-owned railways in the hinterland of Shantung, especially to and from Chefoo. He did not regard such projects as ‘likely in the future’, and therefore suggested that the question ‘ought more properly to be dealt with under the general arrangements governing railway communications in the German and English areas of interest.’⁶² He was prepared to go further without reciprocal pledges by Berlin. Bülow’s other demand for a British undertaking not to alienate any other part of the Shantung coastline did not entail the sacriﬁce of any major British interests, but Balfour reasoned that the issue could be turned ⁵⁹ Lascelles to Salisbury (no. 105), 7 Apr. 1898, FO 64/1437; min. Sanderson, n.d. [4 or 5 Apr. 1898], Balfour MSS, Add.MSS. 49739. ⁶⁰ PD (40) lvi (1898), col. 232. ⁶¹ Curzon to Balfour (private), 6 Apr. 1898, Balfour MSS, Add.MSS. 49732. ⁶² Balfour to Sanderson, 9 Apr. 1898, ibid., Add.MSS. 49739.

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to Britain’s advantage and revitalize his informal proposal of 29 March: ‘if we are to give a general pledge about the whole coastline of the [Shantung] Peninsula, this ought to be reciprocal.’ Britain was not likely to ask for any other portion of the Shantung littoral; nor did he anticipate a German demand for the cession of a port on the Yangtze. It therefore struck him as ‘rather absurd that we should give a pledge even about this improbable future unless they are going to offer reciprocal obligations on their side’. Balfour’s concluding remark, that the whole matter was ultimately ‘not of much importance’, was ﬂippant, and belied the time and effort he had spent on it.⁶³ Sanderson raised the issue with Hatzfeldt on 13 April, but found German opposition to a reciprocal declaration immovable. He therefore suggested a compromise solution, which guaranteed Germany’s commercial preponderance in Shantung, provided Germany allowed the line from Tientsin to run through the province.⁶⁴ Despite Hatzfeldt’s rejection, Balfour continued to pursue the idea of the delimitation of spheres of interest, but he also knew that any such arrangement ‘requires careful steering, because, on the one hand, it seems very desirable to mark out spheres in which we shall not interfere with each other’s concessions, and yet very difﬁcult to do this without either giving them too big a sphere or ourselves too small a one’. Ultimately, he decided not to continue the negotiations, and gave the desired unilateral pledge, albeit in its agreed altered version in regard to the Tientsin line. Although this was opposed by Curzon, Balfour’s pledge was an inexpensive concession.⁶⁵ It was a case of do ut des. Indeed, by the middle of 1898, the Germans were acting on the assumption that, since Britain had recognized the German sphere in Shantung, they had to reciprocate the favour in the Yangtze region.⁶⁶ Balfour’s unilateral concession in April, then, produced informally what he hoped to achieve in a more formal arrangement with Berlin. While Balfour was grappling with the practicalities of an Anglo-German rapprochement, an unexpected intervention revived the alliance pourparlers, for Hatzfeldt’s deputy now took it upon himself to move the talks forward. Eckardstein attempted to use his social contacts to promote the idea of an Anglo-German alliance. At some stage between Chamberlain’s last talk with Hatzfeldt on 1 April and Balfour’s interview with the ambassador on 5 April, a group assembled at Eckardstein’s town house. The gathering was attended by ⁶³ Balfour to Sanderson, 10 Apr. 1898, ibid. ⁶⁴ Memo. Sanderson, 13 Apr. 1898, ibid. ⁶⁵ Balfour to Curzon (private), 13 Apr. 1898, ibid., Add.MSS. 49732; also memo. Curzon, Nov./Dec. 1922, Curzon MSS, MSS.Eur.F.112/365; see Dilks, Curzon in India i, 58. ⁶⁶ Tel. Heyking to Bülow (no. 104), 8 June 1898, KDGP, MSS 705.K13/1.

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Alfred Rothschild, Devonshire, Chamberlain, and Chaplin as well as Admiral Lord Charles Beresford, recently elected Conservative MP, vociferous critic of Salisbury’s China policy, and supporter of a German alliance.⁶⁷ The six men met for one purpose: they were all in favour of an Anglo-German rapprochement, and Chamberlain was to apprise them of his recent talks. Following Chamberlain’s pessimistic report, it was suggested by Rothschild that Eckardstein ought to travel to Germany, to seek a private interview with Kaiser Wilhelm in an effort to restart the stalled talks.⁶⁸ Eckardstein left London on 6 April. He and his co-conspirators had agreed that Hatzfeldt was under no circumstances to be informed of this private mission. At Wilhelmshöhe, Eckardstein had two conversations with the Emperor, summaries of which were telegraphed in cypher to Alfred Rothschild, who then disseminated the latest news among the group, while Chaplin ensured that Balfour was kept informed. In his second telegram on 11 April, Eckardstein wired of his success ‘in convincing the Emperor of the Perﬁdy of Russia, and the Honesty of the English Cabinet. . . . that we (i.e. those who are working for an arrangement with England) shall arrive at a satisfactory conclusion. He impresses on A[lfred Rothschild] the importance of friendly articles in the English Press, which A. has already tended to.’⁶⁹ If the telegram was vague, the Baron gave a more colourful account upon his return to London. He had found the Emperor exposed to the competing pro-Russian and anglophile factions in his entourage. Indeed, he claimed that, when he arrived at Wilhelmshöhe, years of Russian intrigues to drive London and Berlin apart had reached ‘a point where a Continental combination seemed imminent’. Owing to his exertions, such machinations had been defeated; Wilhelm now wished for ‘satisfactory & binding agreements’ with Britain.⁷⁰ Eckardstein’s report sent a frisson of excitement through the small coterie around Chamberlain. The Baron’s private mission, Rothschild predicted, would ‘prove to be the greatest political boon . . . ever vouch-safed to Great Britain’; and he hoped that the Cabinet would be ‘fully alive to the situation’.⁷¹ ⁶⁷ In the Commons China debate on 5 April, he called for an alliance with Germany, PD (4) lvi (1898), cols. 234–6. For the view that Eckardstein acted on his own, see Grenville, Lord Salisbury, 159–60. ⁶⁸ Eckardstein, Lebenserinnerungen i, 294. ⁶⁹ Chaplin to Balfour (private), 12 Apr. 1898, Balfour MSS, Add.MSS. 49772. Eckardstein claimed to have consulted Hatzfeldt; he also refers to only one meeting with the Kaiser, Lebenserinnerungen i, 294–6. ⁷⁰ Eckardstein to Rothschild, ‘Monday’ [viz. 18 Apr. 1898], Whittinghame Muniment MSS, GD 433/2/78. ⁷¹ Rothschild to Balfour (most strictly private and most strictly conﬁdential), 18 Apr. 1898, ibid., GD 433/2/244.

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It is, in fact, doubtful that Eckardstein really succeeded in persuading Wilhelm II, though he saw some advantage in fostering better relations with Britain. Hatzfeldt was instructed to attempt to revive the idea of close British cooperation with Austria and Italy.⁷² Eckardstein came to see Chamberlain at the Colonial Ofﬁce on 23 April, and gave an account of the Wilhelmshöhe talks. The Emperor was strongly in favour of a ‘powerful alliance between England & Germany’; and the Triple Alliance partners were also eager to join this combination. As to its nature, Eckardstein suggested either an all-round defensive alliance, open or secret, or one that provided speciﬁcally for mutual assistance in the event of an attack upon either power by France and Russia. Eckardstein’s repeated assurances of the Kaiser’s earnest desire for such an arrangement made some impression on Chamberlain, and he agreed to another interview with Hatzfeldt.⁷³ The third and last Chamberlain–Hatzfeldt meeting took place on 25 April. According to Hatzfeldt’s report, Chamberlain’s opening gambit was to press for the speedy conclusion of a defensive alliance. Chamberlain’s own, not altogether accurate notes on the meeting make no mention of this. He had good reasons for dissimulating, for he had been told by Balfour that Salisbury now knew of the earlier talks with Hatzfeldt. During this ﬁnal interview the ambassador reiterated all the arguments against the immediate conclusion of an alliance that had been rehearsed over the past three weeks. Chamberlain, though pressing for an Anglo-German deal, reacted coolly to the suggestion of an indirect rapprochement with Germany through Austria and Italy. He remained preoccupied with the situation in China. Britain would not aim to deprive Russia of the recently gained advantages in Manchuria and at Port Arthur; but her further encroachment upon China would threaten British interests and Germany’s position at Kiaochow alike. It was his object, jointly with the Triple Alliance, to prevent further Russian advances. He intimated that London would accommodate German colonial demands in return for an alliance. But Chamberlain also gave a strong hint that, if the ‘natural alliance with Germany’ proved unobtainable, arrangements would be sought with Russia and France. At the conclusion of the interview, on Hatzfeldt’s contention that a ‘direct defensive alliance between Germany and England was premature’, Chamberlain ‘reminded him of the French proverb “le bonheur ⁷² Hatzfeldt to Bülow, 20 Apr. 1898, HP iv, no. 649. ⁷³ Memo. Chamberlain, 22 Apr. 1898, Chamberlain MSS, JC 7/2/2A/5; tel. Hatzfeldt to Bülow (private), 23 Apr. 1898, GP xiv/1, no. 3791; Garvin, Life of Chamberlain iii, 271–2.

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qui passe”.’⁷⁴ Chamberlain repeated this assessment to a crestfallen Eckardstein, who called upon him on 26 April: ‘I said that I was of course sorry, as personally I desired that an arrangement might be found possible, but that there was now nothing more to be done.’ He was careful not to close the option of a future arrangement: if Hatzfeldt had misrepresented his government’s views, ‘it was for the Emperor to make the next move’.⁷⁵ Eckardstein’s private diplomacy had failed. The talks in the spring of 1898 cannot be dismissed as merely ‘a comedy of errors with the major roles being played by second string actors’.⁷⁶ Errors were certainly made on both sides. Chamberlain’s expectation that Germany could be used to check Russia’s expansion in the Far East was based on a fundamental misreading of German interests. Eckardstein’s intervention, though wellintentioned, was almost worthy of a Shakespearean plot, but it was misguided. No doubt, he was a marginal ﬁgure, but Chamberlain and Balfour were not minor actors. The former could also rely on a strong supporting cast. The true signiﬁcance of the talks, then, lies not so much in their revealing an irreconcilable difference of interests between the two countries.⁷⁷ Rather, they derive their signiﬁcance from the fact that Cabinet discontent with Salisbury’s conduct of foreign policy had now manifested itself as an alternative solution to the problems of Britain’s international isolation. It would take another Far Eastern crisis for this body of dissenting opinion to take ﬁrmer shape and gather strength and momentum. Salisbury returned to London on 1 May. Until 22 April, he had been in ignorance of the Chamberlain–Hatzfeldt talks. When Balfour informed the premier of these discussions, he combined it with the warning not to dismiss them as a ‘political comedy without real signiﬁcance’. As the idea of an alliance had now been raised, the Kaiser’s ‘odd’ personality was a complicating factor: ‘I am seriously afraid that these irresponsible diplomatists have raised expectations in the Emperor’s mind which if left unfulﬁlled will, acting on so impulsive a being throw him violently into the opposite camp.’⁷⁸ Balfour’s letter of 22 April was a subtle move. At one stroke, he criticized Chamberlain and his ⁷⁴ Memo. Chamberlain, 25 Apr. 1898, Chamberlain MSS, JC 7/2/2A/6; tel. Hatzfeldt to Hohenlohe (no. 359, ganz geheim), 26 Apr. 1898, GP xiv/1, no. 3793. ⁷⁵ Memo. Chamberlain, 26 Apr. 1898, ibid., JC 7/2/2A/7; Garvin, Life of Chamberlain iii, 276–7. ⁷⁶ Zara Steiner’s argument, see Britain and the Origins of the First World War, 25. ⁷⁷ The argument advanced by Kennedy, ‘German World Policy’, 605–25. ⁷⁸ Balfour to Salisbury (private), 22 Apr. 1898, Balfour MSS, Add.MSS. 49691; see T. G. Otte, ‘ “The Winston of Germany”: The British Foreign Policy Elite and the Last German Emperor’, CJH xxxvi, 3 (2001), 487–8.

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coterie as irresponsible; and, playing on his uncle’s well-known concerns about the Kaiser’s mental instability, simultaneously suggested that it would be equally irresponsible now to leave the matter on the table. Salisbury now faced a dilemma. Chamberlain’s China initiative threatened to divert British diplomacy in a dangerous direction. He had to reassert his control over foreign policy-making, whilst keeping the Colonial Secretary in the Unionist fold. This entailed a difﬁcult balancing act. He had to maintain government unity, and at the same time avoid an alliance with Germany without offending the German Emperor. This was no easy task; all the more since he had come to regard both men with equal mistrust. He suspected the Emperor of wishing to involve Britain in ‘a war with France. I never can make up my mind whether this is part of Chamberlain’s objects or not. The indications differ from month to month . . . . France certainly acts as if she meant to drive us into a German alliance; which I look to with some dismay, for Germany will blackmail us heavily.’⁷⁹ Salisbury set out to restore his control of foreign affairs by restricting Chamberlain’s room for manoeuvre. Both men were aware of their ability to inﬂict irreparable damage on the other. Shortly before Salisbury’s return, Chamberlain sent him his ‘notes of some curious conversations I have had with the German Ambassador and Baron Eckhardstein [sic].’ He disguised his own role in the episode, and stressed that the initiative had come from the Germans. In noting that reports from other sources seemed to corroborate Eckardstein’s summary of the Kaiser’s views, Chamberlain was nevertheless careful to assure Salisbury that the ﬁnal decision rested with him. He observed that the recent China crisis had demonstrated that Britain was ‘powerless to resist the ultimate control of China by Russia’. As long as the government retained ‘our present isolation’ it would remain at a disadvantage in all negotiations with France. In his analysis, ‘the country would support us in a Treaty with Germany providing for reciprocal defence. I think such a Treaty would make for peace and might be negotiated at the present time.’⁸⁰ In an effort to contain Chamberlain’s implicit threat to his leadership, Salisbury pursued a two-pronged approach, by dealing directly with the Colonial Secretary and, indirectly, through his long-scheduled speech to the Primrose League and in his talks with foreign diplomats. Privately, he assured the Colonial Secretary that ‘I quite agree with you that under the circumstances a closer relation with Germany would be very desirable, but can we get it?’⁸¹ ⁷⁹ Salisbury to Balfour (private), 9 Apr. 1898, Balfour MSS, Add.MSS. 49691. ⁸⁰ Chamberlain to Salisbury (private), 29 Apr. 1898, Chamberlain MSS, JC 11/30/117. ⁸¹ Salisbury to Chamberlain (private), 2 May 1898, ibid., JC 5/67/91.

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Chamberlain tried to assuage Salisbury’s fears that he might act precipitately. Any progress in the matter depended on Germany: ‘I do not suppose that it would be wise for us to show ourselves too eager and I say this although I am a strong partisan of the alliance under present circumstances.’ Chamberlain threw out the idea of using Eckardstein as a go-between in an effort to establish whether the Kaiser’s government was willing to press ahead.⁸² The two men discussed the matter on 3 May. Chamberlain repeated the German Emperor’s evident desire for a defensive alliance: ‘If agreed this included Alsace & Lorraine in the German case & I assumed Egypt & Afghanistan in ours.’ Salisbury continued to placate his minister, but insisted that the next move had to come from the Germans. He authorized Chamberlain ‘that if Eckardstein came again I might say that the Gov[ernmen]t were favourably disposed with regard to the idea [of an alliance].’ Any agreement, he concurred with Chamberlain, ‘ought to be a public one’.⁸³ Such private assurances were not binding on either party. Salisbury’s friendly exchange of ideas with Chamberlain in early May aimed at keeping the latter within the government’s fold; but it was not sufﬁcient to prevent his future intervention in foreign affairs. Chamberlain’s ability to seize the initiative was feeding on public dissatisfaction with the government’s handling of the Far Eastern crisis. Salisbury’s assurances that he, too, was in principle in favour of a German alliance denied Chamberlain the pretext, if he sought one, for disrupting the government. If he could calm public fears about Britain’s international position, he would also limit Chamberlain’s ability to harness discontent to his ambitions. In his address to the Primrose League, Salisbury tackled the current state of international politics. He dismissed ‘the jargon about isolation’. The problems posed by the ‘dying nations’ affected all powers. International cooperation was required to meet these challenges, but not exclusive alliances. He acknowledged that the recent China crisis was at the root of Britain’s current difﬁculties. ‘The Chinese question has been a sort of diplomatic cracker that has produced a great many detonations, but . . . the smoke of [which] has now ﬂoated into the distance.’ Britain’s acquisition of Weihaiwei to counterbalance Russia at Port Arthur had seen to that; and he concluded reassuringly: ‘We know that we shall maintain against all comers that which we possess, and we know . . . that we are amply competent to do so.’⁸⁴ ⁸² Chamberlain to Salisbury (private), 2 May 1898, ibid., JC 11/30/118. ⁸³ Memo. Chamberlain, 3 May 1898, ibid., JC 7/2/2A/8; Grenville, Lord Salisbury, 164. ⁸⁴ The Times (5 May 1898); see J. H. Rob, The Primrose League, 1883–1906 (New York, 1942), ch. vi.

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This was a clear political challenge, and Chamberlain responded in kind at a Liberal Unionist meeting in his Birmingham stronghold on 13 May. The ‘long-spoon’ speech was a characteristic mixture of rapier thrusts and bludgeon blows. Referring respectfully to Salisbury’s Albert Hall speech, he conceded Britain’s difﬁcult international position. The ‘combined assault by the nations of the world upon the commercial supremacy of this country’ threatened its very existence. However, it would not be ‘wise or patriotic’ to say that the Foreign Secretary was ‘discredited or defeated’ or that the government was ‘weak and vacillating’. But if it was unwise to say so, Chamberlain did not state the opposite either. Indeed, he fell back into his favourite role of popular tribune, calling for a ‘new diplomacy’. The time had passed for ‘the mysteries and reticencies of the diplomacy of 50 years ago’. He demanded openness and leadership. The ‘policy of strict isolation’ was no longer appropriate. Europe was divided into different alliances, ‘and so long as we keep outside these alliances . . . we are liable to be confronted at any moment with a combination of Great Powers, so powerful that not even the most extreme, the most hot-headed politician would be able to contemplate it without a certain uneasiness.’ He then reverted to his pet project of strengthening the existing ties between the different parts of the Empire, but also to forge an alliance ‘with our kinsmen across the Atlantic’. Chamberlain’s exhortation of Anglo-Saxon racialism was tinged with bellicosity: ‘even war itself would be cheaply purchased if in a great and noble cause the Stars and Stripes and the Union Jack should wave together . . . over an Anglo-Saxon alliance.’ This was stirring, if vacuous, platform oratory. The future of the Far East was the real core of his present concerns. China was ‘absolutely at the mercy of Russia’. His denunciation of Russia overstepped the mark of diplomatic civility; but it was civility itself compared to his verdict on Salisbury’s attempt in January to come to an understanding with Russia. Chamberlain’s ‘We failed’ was a slap in the face. The Colonial Secretary was careful to be seen to defend the acquisition of Weihaiwei, something he had opposed in Cabinet, but predicted: ‘We have in future to contend with Russia in China, as we have to contend with Russia in Afghanistan, and with this difference—that in China we have no army and no offensive frontier.’ Britain had to be allied ‘to some great military power as we were in the Crimean War’ in order to contain Russia in East Asia. Chamberlain’s concluding crescendo was a direct response to Salisbury’s dismissal of the ‘jargon about isolation’. The China Question was a question of China’s survival. If ‘the policy of isolation’ were maintained, ‘then the fate of the Chinese Empire may be, probably will be . . . decided without reference to our wishes and in deﬁance of our interests’.

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There was no realistic alternative to seeking an alliance partner: ‘[W]e must not regret the idea of an alliance with those Powers whose interests are most approximate to our own.’⁸⁵ The vision of an Anglo-American alliance aside, Chamberlain’s reference to the need for an alliance with ‘some great military power’ was a scarcely concealed reference to Germany. The British government, it seemed, ‘was speaking with two voices’.⁸⁶ If Chamberlain had expected to rally public opinion to his newly found cause, and so build up momentum behind his alternative foreign policy, he had miscalculated. For once, his ‘éloquence rigoreuse et brutale’ failed to stir public opinion. The ‘long spoon’ speech was not received with unanimous enthusiasm, and caused a greater sensation in continental papers than in Britain.⁸⁷ The Kaiser impressed on Lascelles that Germany would not ‘ﬁght England’s battles in China’, and even poked fun at Chamberlain’s touting for allies. Lascelles’s report was printed for the Cabinet in a clear attempt by Salisbury to embarrass Chamberlain.⁸⁸ The open divergence of views caused moments of parliamentary embarrassment for the Unionists, but it was more than off-set by the fact that Chamberlain’s freedom of manoeuvre had been restricted, without producing an open clash.⁸⁹ It was also clear now that, if Chamberlain wanted to force a change of foreign policy, he would not have public opinion with him. This, in turn, made it less likely that he would seek to disrupt government policy, or, if he did seek to do so, that he would succeed. Salisbury’s efforts to contain Chamberlain also extended to his dealings with foreign diplomats. The Prime Minister pursued a complex strategy. Whatever Salisbury’s own misgivings about a German alliance, Balfour’s warning not to reject an alliance outright for fear of pushing the Kaiser into the Russian camp, had made an impression on him. Whereas Chamberlain was a single-purpose, conviction politician, Salisbury moved slowly and on several fronts simultaneously. On ⁸⁵ The Times (14 May 1898). The notion of an Anglo-American alliance enjoyed a large degree of popularity also among Radicals, see S. Maccoby, English Radicalism, 1886–1914 (London, 1953), 260–1. ⁸⁶ L. M. Penson, ‘The New Course in British Foreign Policy’, Essays in Modern History, ed. I. R. Christie (London, 1968), 313; C. H. D. Howard, ‘ “Splendid Isolation” ’, History xlvii, 1 (1962), 34–5. ⁸⁷ Geoffray to Hanotaux (no. 293, conﬁdentiel), 17 May 1898, DDF (1) xiv, no. 193; Staal to Muravev (no. 42), 13/25 May 1898, SC ii, 384–5; also Alice Blanche Balfour diary, 18 May 1898, Whittinghame Muniment MSS, GD 433/2/224; see M. Crouzet, ‘Joseph Chamberlain’, Les Politiques d’Expansion Impérialiste, ed. P. Renouvin (Paris, 1949), 165. ⁸⁸ Lascelles to Salisbury (no. 168, very conﬁdential), 26 May 1898, CAB 37/47/37 (original in FO 64/1438). ⁸⁹ Curzon to Salisbury (private), 12 June 1898, Salisbury MSS, 3M/E/1/121; Marsh, Chamberlain, 439.

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2 May, he saw Hatzfeldt for the ﬁrst time since his return from Beaulieu, ostensibly to discuss further German complaints about railway concessions in China. He let Hatzfeldt do most of the talking. The ambassador carefully explained that alliance talks were premature: ‘His business was evidently to throw cold water. He hinted that if we wished for an alliance we must prepare the way for it by amenability in other matters.’⁹⁰ Hatzfeldt called upon Salisbury again on 11 May to raise colonial grievances, but suggested that, if these were redressed, ‘the friendship or alliance of his Government’ was on offer. Salisbury reacted coolly. A ‘general European alliance with Germany’ might offer advantages, ‘so long as it dealt with general European interests’. When Hatzfeldt refused to be drawn into a discussion of details, it was Salisbury’s turn now to pour cold water: ‘I did not contend the soundness of such policy, but I observed that a negative condition so vague could hardly be the foundation of an agreement.’ According to Hatzfeldt’s report, Salisbury responded to his hint that concessions would pave the way for a general understanding with the comment: ‘You demand too much for your friendship.’ Nevertheless, the ambassador was convinced that leading ministers remained wedded to the idea of a rapprochement with Germany.⁹¹ Salisbury himself intimated to the Austrian ambassador that a continental alliance might now be necessary, although he also stressed that Germany tended to ‘pose excessive conditions for [her] friendship’. This was deliberate. In making this observation to Count Deym, he knew that it would eventually be transmitted to Berlin.⁹² Indeed, Hatzfeldt surmised that not only had Chamberlain meant to ﬂy a kite at Birmingham, but also that there was no split between him and the Prime Minister after all. Nor was Hatzfeldt the only foreign diplomat to think so. Staal was certain that ‘au fond lord Salisbury partage les idées de M. Chamberlain’.⁹³ This studied ambiguity was part of Salisbury’s tactic. It served a dual purpose. On the one hand, it allowed him to minimize his differences with Chamberlain, so suggesting to foreign Powers a unity of purpose which in reality did not exist. The views of weak and divided ⁹⁰ Salisbury to Chamberlain (private), 2 May 1898, Chamberlain MSS, JC 5/67/91; Otte, ‘ “Winston of Germany” ’, 477–90. ⁹¹ Quotes from Salisbury to Lascelles (no. 109A), 11 May 1898, FO 64/1436; and Hatzfeldt to Bülow (no. 394), 11 May 1898, GP xiv/1, 230–1, n.*; G. S. Papadopoulos, ‘Lord Salisbury and the Projected Anglo-German Alliance of 1898’, BIHR xxvi, 74 (1954), 214–18. ⁹² Tel. Hatzfeldt to Auswärtiges Amt (no. 137), 22 May 1898, HP iv, no. 654; Grenville, Lord Salisbury, 168. ⁹³ Staal to Muravev (no. 43), 13/25 May 1898, SC ii, 387; tel. Hatzfeldt to Auswärtiges Amt (no. 119), 15 May 1898, GP xiv/1, no. 3797.

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governments, after all, count for nothing. On the other hand, by minimizing his differences with Chamberlain in the eyes of Hatzfeldt, Salisbury sought also to reduce the risk of giving umbrage to the Kaiser. Towards Germany Salisbury pursued a dual track approach. While intimating a favourable disposition in principle, he simultaneously raised serious practical difﬁculties that had to be overcome before any agreement could be concluded. The moment had not yet come when the alliance idea could be safely buried. It arrived, when Chamberlain ﬂoated his ballon d’essai at Birmingham, and failed to create fresh momentum. Salisbury told Hatzfeldt that since both sides had indicated their interest in an alliance, it would be best now to postpone any further negotiations until the need arose for formal arrangements. Salisbury’s move bore a close resemblance to his rejection of Bismarck’s alliance offer of 1889. Crucially, in the context of the events of 1898, Hatzfeldt now sensed that Salisbury was conﬁdent about his own position within the government.⁹⁴ The events in China had caused Salisbury’s policy to wobble, but they had not made it fall. By the summer of 1898, the situation in the Far East had become more settled. In so far as relations with Germany in China were concerned, developments had turned out as Balfour had hoped in April: ‘Chinese matters are muddling on . . . . Germany is now disposed to work with us as regards concessions.’ This left Russia: ‘I want to drive them into making a distinct offer of spheres of interest (so far as concessions go), i.e. Manchuria v. basin of Yangtse: they hint at this but do not distinctly propose it.’⁹⁵ Balfour’s statement underlined the continuity in his China policy, which aimed at consolidating Britain’s position in China by blunting potential or actual challenges by other Powers. The attempt to arrive at an understanding with Russia on the delimitation of spheres of inﬂuence was given greater urgency by an Anglo-Russian quarrel about a railway project in northern China, which arose in June 1898. As the various indemnity loan negotiations after 1895 had demonstrated already, the granting of concessions, whether commercial or territorial, was equated with the relative political inﬂuence of the Powers in China. From the perspective of the Foreign Ofﬁce, British enterprise in China had to be supported as the best means of halting the further spread of foreign inﬂuence there; and more especially in order to contain Russia’s pénétration paciﬁque. British ⁹⁴ Tel. Hatzfeldt to Auswärtiges Amt (no. 150, geheim), 2 June 1898, GP xiv/1, no. 3800. For the later idea of an African agreement, see Kennedy, Anglo-German Antagonism, 235–6; Marsh, Chamberlain, 439–40. ⁹⁵ Balfour to Salisbury, 30 Aug. 1898, Balfour MSS, Add.MSS. 49691.

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China policy, then, was not a function of the commercial interests of the China lobby, but employed commercial tools for political ends. Harnessing commerce to political action was a complicated business, however, as Sanderson complained: ‘I must confess that the present scramble for railway concessions in –1 part will be constructed for many years to China, of which I am sure only 10 come, is extremely bewildering.’⁹⁶ The principal aim of the efforts formally to establish recognized spheres in China was to safeguard Britain’s position in the central provinces along the Yangtze basin. George Curzon spelled out the importance of railways as a suitable vehicle for the projection of British inﬂuence and power in the interior of the Chinese Empire, where Britain’s naval reach was inevitably limited: ‘I think our next step in China should be to get some reliable syndicate to undertake the trunk lines N[orth] & S[outh] from the Yangtze Valley.’⁹⁷ Salisbury held similar views, but noted that the main difﬁculty was ‘to produce a syndicate really willing and able to build a railway in the Yangtze region’. Until one was found, British diplomacy had to block foreign concessions elsewhere as best it could. For the Foreign Secretary, railways were bargaining chips.⁹⁸ Salisbury’s ambitions for a Yangtze sphere were limited, but his China policy revolved around this area. Curzon’s views, on the other hand, oscillated between Salisburian moderation and vast visionary geopolitical schemes. In the spring he derided the notion, frequently mooted in public, that ‘we could absorb, protect & administer the whole of the Yangtze Valley’. By mid-June, by contrast, he expressed his hope that ‘our Yangtze sphere [should] crystallize into anything like a protectorate, or even an actual possession’.⁹⁹ Whatever the scope of their Yangtze ambitions, Salisbury, Balfour, and Curzon were in broad agreement about securing a British sphere in China. An Anglo-Russian railway quarrel in June provided a stimulus for renewed efforts in that direction. Earlier in the year, the Hong Kong Bank and Jardine, Matheson and Co. had formed a new syndicate exclusively for railway business: the British and Chinese Corporation (BCC). On 17 June the bank, acting on behalf of the BCC, signed a preliminary agreement with the Director General of the Imperial Railways of North China (IRNC) for a £2.3 million loan to ⁹⁶ Sanderson to Scott (private), 12 Oct. 1898, Scott MSS, BL, Add.MSS. 52298. Representative of the ambitions of smaller Powers was the Dutch idea of acquiring the port of Swatow or the Namoo islands in Swatow Bay, see note Knobel to Roëll, 7 Jan. 1898, BBBP (2) vi, no. 380. ⁹⁷ Curzon to Salisbury, 11 Apr. 1898, Salisbury MSS, 3M/E/1/118. ⁹⁸ Salisbury to Curzon, 30 May and 4 June 1898, Curzon MSS, MSS.Eur.F.112/1B. ⁹⁹ Quotes from Curzon to Salisbury, 11 Apr. 1898, Salisbury MSS, 3M/E/1/118; and memo. Curzon, 12 June 1898, Curzon MSS, MSS.Eur.F.111/78B.

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cover the costs of extending the Peking–Shanhaikwan line beyond the Great Wall to Newchwang at the northern end of the Gulf of Liaotung. The BCC’s desire to extend its commercial operations into Manchuria produced strong protests in St Petersburg. The BCC’s commercial projects were strongly supported by MacDonald. Throughout the ﬁrst half of 1898, the minister at Peking had been a vociferous supporter of British commercial interests in China. To his mind, the Shanhaikwan–Newchwang extension would help to secure Britain’s position in north China against Russian competition. When the Chinese railway authorities ﬁrst approached the HSBC about a loan, MacDonald pressed the bank to conclude the agreement promptly, before Russia or France blocked the deal.¹⁰⁰ Salisbury was not slow to grasp the political utility of the dispute. In the BCC he had now found the ‘reliable syndicate’ of ‘patriotic capitalists’ that he and Curzon had sought to further British interests in China. Even though the BCC was less interested in the Yangtze area, Salisbury decided to take a ﬁrm line over the projected extension. It would enable him to counteract Russian claims to exclusive rights in Manchuria. His motivation was entirely political, and from the outset he refused to compromise on the matter. The China Association suggested an alternative course of action. Shortly after the HSBC signed the preliminary agreement respecting the Newchwang extension, a Belgian syndicate, backed by French and Russian ﬁnanciers, obtained a loan agreement for the building of a railway line from Peking to the Yangtze at Hankow.¹⁰¹ Salisbury himself was disturbed by this development. Past experience with the wily Belgian monarch in central African questions was hardly conducive to placing much conﬁdence in the Belgians in commercial matters in general. However, given Franco-Russian backing for the Belgian syndicate, the Hankow concession was ‘no longer a commercial or industrial enterprise [but] . . . a political movement against British interests in the Yangtze’.¹⁰² Practical and commercial difﬁculties made it difﬁcult to block the scheme. Salisbury accepted that Britain had little leverage over Russia, and the proposed exchange of concessions was a non-starter.¹⁰³ ¹⁰⁰ Tel. MacDonald to Salisbury (no. 137), 25 Apr. 1898, FO 17/1340; see M. H. Wilgus, Sir Claude MacDonald, the Open Door, and British Informal Empire in China, 1895–1900 (New York, 1987), 126–69; E. Z. Sun, Chinese Railways and British Interests, 1898–1911 (New York, 1954), 37–8. ¹⁰¹ Memo. Cartwright, 9 July 1898, FO 17/1360. For a comprehensive treatment, see G. Kurganvan Hentenrijk, Leopold II et les groupes ﬁnanciers belges en Chine (Brussels, 1971). ¹⁰² Tel. Salisbury to MacDonald (no. 200), 9 June 1898, FO 17/1339. ¹⁰³ Quotes from Gundry to Bertie, 6 July, and mins. Campbell and Salisbury, n.d. [c. 9 July 1898] on Gundry to Salisbury, 8 July 1898, FO 17/1360; N. Pelcovits, Old China Hands and the Foreign Ofﬁce (New York, 1948), 236–7.

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MacDonald took a different view. He had never been persuaded of the political value of railway concessions. British enterprise ought to be able to compete everywhere in China; and the greater ﬁnancial viability of the northern extension was further reason for holding on to this concession, he argued.¹⁰⁴ Salisbury abandoned the project of an exchange. He was not swayed by MacDonald’s advocacy of free commerce; of greater importance were rumours of an impending Russian move into the Sinkiang province of Manchuria in response to the Shanhaikwan railway dispute. If China yielded to Russian pressure and reneged on the preliminary agreement with the BCC, this would be a serious diplomatic setback, further undermining Britain’s position in China. MacDonald was instructed to assure the Tsungli Yamên of British support ‘against any Power which commits an act of aggression on China’ as a result of railway or public works concessions being granted to British companies. Salisbury hardened his stance in early August: ‘Russia had no right whatever to object to a mortgage loan being made by the Hong Kong bank to the Newchwang railway’, he informed the Chinese minister in London, Lo fêng-lu.¹⁰⁵ This did not mean that Salisbury was prepared to risk a breach with Russia over the northern extension line. Privately, he discounted the idea that Russia might ‘commit an act of aggression’ in reaction to the HSBC loan. Indeed, he anticipated that China would succumb to Russian pressure.¹⁰⁶ It was important, then, to establish a strong position from which to negotiate with the Russians. Furthermore, control of the IRNC had acquired a new strategic signiﬁcance for Britain’s position in China. After the Peking–Hankow line had been granted to the Franco-Belgian syndicate, British inﬂuence over the IRNC was all that stood in the way of a connection between Russian lines in Manchuria and the railway lines to the Yangtze valley. Control of the IRNC, then, protected Britain’s position in that region.¹⁰⁷ But it did not rule out the offer of a revision of the IRNC loan agreement as a bargaining counter in efforts to secure an agreement with Russia. It was left to Balfour to initiate the next step when he took over the day-today running of the Foreign Ofﬁce in mid-August, while Salisbury was once ¹⁰⁴ Tel. MacDonald to Salisbury (no. 233), 23 July 1898, FO 17/1341; and tel. vice versa (no. 222), 13 July 1898, FO 17/1339. ¹⁰⁵ Tel. Salisbury to MacDonald (no. 230), 22 July, and min. Salisbury, 8 Aug. 1898, BD i, nos. 55–6; see Sun, Chinese Railways, 37. ¹⁰⁶ Salisbury to Curzon, 8 Aug. 1898, MSS.Eur.F.112/1B; Neilson, Last Tsar, 198. ¹⁰⁷ An important point made by A. L. Rosenbaum, ‘The Manchuria Bridgehead: Anglo-Russian Rivalry and the Imperial Railways of Northern China’, MAS x, 1 (1976), 54.

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more resting in France. Balfour and Sanderson were critical of MacDonald’s vigorous championing of the BCC, and of ‘taking a too purely commercial view of Chinese–British politics’, which they thought had needlessly strained relations with Russia.¹⁰⁸ The setbacks for British companies over the Hankow and Newchwang railways created domestic pressure on the government, and contributed to the Conservatives’ spectacular defeat at the Southport by-election.¹⁰⁹ Domestic considerations apart, the railway quarrel with Russia had strategic implications. Balfour’s own sentiments were of an even more pronounced ‘Yangtze ﬁrst’-nature than were Salisbury’s or Curzon’s. The Newchwang extension seemed to him to be of small commercial interest. But he clearly understood its political value in any negotiations with Russia on the recognition of respective spheres of inﬂuence in China. An opening came on 12 August when, at Balfour’s request, the Russian chargé d’affaires Pavel Mikhailovich Lessar called to discuss the railway difﬁculties. Lessar developed the idea of a bilateral arrangement to settle the Newchwang dispute, which Balfour claimed had reached ‘serious proportions’. Under this proposal London would recognize the exclusive nature of Russia’s railway and mining concessions in Manchuria; in return, St Petersburg would give pledges ‘in a similar manner with regard to the much richer and more populous district of the Yangtze’.¹¹⁰ Lessar’s was a vague scheme; but, by his own admission, Russia lacked the means to construct many of the railways for which she sought exclusive rights. The Russian approach created a new situation. The British government had four options, as Balfour explained in a lengthy Cabinet memorandum. London could acquiesce in Russia’s blocking of a British-built Newchwang extension line, and ask for ‘adequate compensation’ from the Peking government. An arrangement with Russia was the second option. Alternatively, St Petersburg could be informed that the violation of British rights by Russia over Newchwang was unacceptable; and, if Russia refused satisfaction, diplomatic relations would have to be severed and war be declared. The fourth option consisted of the adoption of ‘some violent but still less drastic method of procedure’, such as the forceful seizure of Chinese territory; ‘and possibly we shall make the line . . . if need be by sending ships to Newchwang and landing ¹⁰⁸ Alice Blanche Balfour diary, 11 Aug. 1898, Whittinghame Muniment MSS, GD 433/2/224; Balfour to Villiers, 17 Nov. 1898, Bertie MSS, Add.MSS. 63013. ¹⁰⁹ The Times (12 and 18 Aug. 1898). ¹¹⁰ Balfour to Scott (no. 167A), 12 Aug. 1898, FO 65/1551; also Geoffray to Delcassé (no. 446), 23 Aug. 1898, DDF (1) xv, no. 138, n. 1.

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marines to protect the operation’. Of the four options acquiescence was inadmissable. In contrast to the violent alternatives, a railway agreement had much to commend itself. Under such a deal Russia would concede more than she gained since the Yangtze area was commercially more valuable than Manchuria. Russian recognition of Britain’s special inﬂuence over the region would grant her ‘a sphere of interest much larger than we could easily demand in cold blood’. On the other hand, the option of British sabre-rattling was ‘the simplest of all’. It would result either in war or a British diplomatic triumph. A ﬁrm foreign policy, Balfour noted, would reap domestic beneﬁts; either outcome would be regarded by the public ‘in their present temper . . . with equal satisfaction’. Although Balfour thought the chances of actual conﬂict slim, owing to Russia’s lack of preparations for war, the risk of escalation could not be ignored altogether. Russia’s autocrat might prefer war to humiliation, ‘if [he] felt himself personally involved’. A ‘striking diplomatic triumph’, Balfour observed, would boost the government’s ﬂagging popularity at home as it would be seen as ‘really ﬁghting the battle for prestige rather than for material gain’. Nevertheless, any diplomatic victory would be transient, and have little effect on China’s future development. Finally, there were grave objections to the fourth option. The forceful acquisition of Chinese territory, of no intrinsic value to Britain at any rate, would offer to other Powers ‘a fresh excuse for piracy’, and so spark a fresh round of ‘territory grabbing’. The construction of the Newchwang line under ‘some kind of police protection’ by British marines, moreover, might lead to war with Russia. An ‘attack on our protecting party’ would offer Britain ‘a considerable advantage’ in that Russia would incur the odium of being the aggressor. Given the ‘momentous and unforeseen consequences’ of the last two options, Balfour’s implicit recommendation was to pursue Lessar’s proposal of an AngloRussian arrangement. Still, the fact that a military conﬂict with Russia was actively considered was indicative not only of the strains in Anglo-Russian relations; it also highlighted the explosive potential of the China Question.¹¹¹ Balfour prepared his next moves carefully. The new ambassador at St Petersburg, Sir Charles Scott, was instructed to impress on Muravev that Russian protestations against the Newchwang extension were inconsistent with Russia’s pledge to respect the treaty rights conceded to Britain by China. ¹¹¹ Memo. Balfour, ‘Newchwang Railway’ (conﬁdential), 13 Aug. 1898, CAB 37/47/62. The memorandum is dated 13 July. This must be a misprint. Balfour took charge of the Foreign Ofﬁce only in August, and his ﬁrst interview with Lessar took place on 12 August. A handwritten docketing note bears the date of 15 August.

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Any arrangement had to be mutually beneﬁcial. Britain’s exclusion from railway enterprises in Manchuria was unacceptable, if Russia were allowed access to all of China: ‘Such pretension if persisted in must inevitably produce the most serious international difﬁculties.’¹¹² This was a combination of the substance of the second option with the tone of the third. Scott and the Russian foreign minister had served together at Berlin in the 1880s, and then as ministers at Copenhagen; and, as Salisbury surmised, ‘Mouravieff’s peculiarities may not startle you as much as they did [O’Conor].’¹¹³ Indeed, their discussion of Chinese railways made good progress. Muravev was eager to smooth matters, but stressed that a British-built line would damage Russian trade at Talienwan. Furthermore, China had pledged herself in a special protocol, appended to the Sino-Russian Manchurian convention of March 1898, not to let railway lines north of the Great Wall fall into foreign hands.¹¹⁴ Muravev’s amicable tone encouraged Balfour to proceed further. He instructed Scott to propose a two-part agreement. The northern extension line would be built, if necessary ﬁnanced, by the HSBC, but placed under Chinese control and not mortgaged to non-Chinese companies. The core of the proposed agreement was the mutual recognition of British and Russian railway spheres of inﬂuence in the Yangtze basin and Manchuria respectively. Muravev treated the exchanges as purely private ones, but signalled his personal willingness to accept the proposal, though he was not able to act without the Tsar’s approval.¹¹⁵ A fortnight later, the Russians seemed to have accepted Balfour’s proposals. Scott gave an optimistic assessment of the talks to Salisbury. Muravev had stressed that Russia’s interests in China ‘were exclusively political & to the North of Pekin’; whereas British interests seemed largely commercial ‘& lying to the S[outh] of Pekin’. Muravev was prepared to agree to a delimitation of spheres of inﬂuence on that basis. Scott was ‘gratiﬁed by [Muravev’s] evident desire to cultivate the most friendly & conﬁdential relations with me, with a view to a good understanding between our Governments’. London ought to reciprocate in kind: ‘Any difﬁculty in settling satisfactorily the Chinese Railways difﬁculties . . . come, I suspect, chieﬂy not from the Government, but from the old evil of Balkan days, non-ofﬁcial Russia.’¹¹⁶ ¹¹² Tel. Balfour to Scott (no. 215), 17 Aug. 1898, BD i, no. 57. ¹¹³ Salisbury to Scott, 28 May 1898, Scott MSS, Add.MSS. 52297. ¹¹⁴ Scott to Salisbury (no. 286), 18 Aug. 1898, FO 65/1555; Neilson, Last Tsar, 198. ¹¹⁵ Tel. Balfour to Scott (no. 217), 19 Aug. 1898, FO 65/1558; Scott to Salisbury (no. 288, conﬁdential), 21 Aug. 1898, FO 65/1555. ¹¹⁶ Scott to Salisbury (private and conﬁdential), 8 Sept. 1898, Scott MSS, Add.MSS. 52297; Scott to Salisbury (no. 295, conﬁdential), 2 Sept. 1898, FO 65/1555.

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As further proof of his sincerity, Muravev shortly afterwards proposed that the HSBC and the Russo-Chinese Bank ought to settle their differences to complement the proposed agreement between the two governments. The prospects for a speedy conclusion of the arrangement with Russia seemed to improve further when, on 10 September, the Russo-Chinese Bank, that vehicle of Russian expansionism in East Asia, withdrew its bid for the northern extension line.¹¹⁷ Senior British diplomats succumbed to Scott’s optimism. MacDonald saw himself vindicated in his earlier hard line stance on the IRNC loan question as, indeed, on most other Chinese matters. Russia’s evident desire to accommodate British interests, he noted, demonstrated 1st You have only to speak ﬁrmly to the Russians and they knuckle down. 2nd If we allow ‘French susceptibilities’ to interfere with any of our interests in the Southern provinces of Quangtung [sic] we had better clear out of China bag & baggage.¹¹⁸

Even Salisbury expected a speedy arrangement with the Russians, when he returned from France at the beginning of September. On taking charge of the negotiations, he suggested extending the proposed agreement to include a selfnegating clause concerning preferential railway tariffs. This attempt to saddle the St Petersburg talks with an additional technical issue complicated matters, and caused some delay in the negotiations.¹¹⁹ The key to the further progress of the talks lay with Count Witte, for the ﬁnance minister shaped Russia’s Asiatic policy. A British commercial presence at Newchwang, a port superior in its commercial potential to Talienwan, threatened to undermine his plans for Russian commercial and political expansion in the North. Witte’s absence from the capital afforded a good opportunity for the Russians to delay the negotiations.¹²⁰ The tariff question was not the only problem that emerged once the precise details of the proposed agreement were discussed. Scott remained optimistic that the Russians wished to ﬁnalize matters; and, for his part, he continued to impress upon London the need ‘for modifying our attitude to the Bank’s ¹¹⁷ Scott to Salisbury (no. 304), 10 Sept. 1898, FO 65/1556; R. Quested, The Russo-Chinese Bank (Birmingham, 1977), 29–37; O. Crisp, ‘The Russo-Chinese Bank: An Episode in Franco-Russian Relations’, SEER lii, 127 (1974), 208–11; idem, Studies in the Russian Economy before 1914 (London, 1976), 117. ¹¹⁸ MacDonald to Bertie, 18 Sept. 1898, Bertie MSS, Add.MSS. 63013. ¹¹⁹ Salisbury to Scott (nos. 186, conﬁdential, and 197A), 1 and 20 Sept. 1898, FO 65/1560. ¹²⁰ Scott to Salisbury (no. 316, conﬁdential), 22 Sept. 1898, FO 65/1556; Romanov, Russia in Manchuria, 155–7.

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contract’. He did not anticipate Russian objections to the IRNC loan, provided the required security did not entail control of the Newchwang extension line. Scott’s principal concern was with the delimitation of spheres of inﬂuence: ‘we ought to be satisﬁed with securing the Yangtze region against Russian competition’. Establishing the limits of Manchuria and the Yangtze basin, and what Lamsdorff called ‘the apparently neutral district’ in between, was no easy matter.¹²¹ Indeed, after his initial euphoria Scott grew increasingly pessimistic about the chances of a speedy conclusion of the agreement. The Tsar, Witte, and Muravev were absent from St Petersburg; and Lamsdorff and the Deputy Finance Minister were no real substitutes equipped with full negotiating powers. Salisbury had furnished Scott with a geographical deﬁnition of the Yangtze region. Lamsdorff, however, could not be enticed to engage in a similar cartographical exercise regarding Manchuria. Scott feared that Muravev’s deputy might attempt to deal separately with the two elements of the proposed agreement, the ﬁnal settlement of the Newchwang extension line and the delimitation of spheres of inﬂuence. The latter was to be the core of the whole arrangement, as he repeatedly warned Lamsdorff: ‘if any important departure was made from the base of [the] Agreement . . . it might prove fatal to the success of our efforts to arrive at a satisfactory settlement’. Scott concluded that little could be achieved until ‘the big people’ returned to St Petersburg.¹²² Scott had to wait until 2 November for his ﬁrst interview with Witte. The Finance Minister stressed his desire for ‘a thoroughly sincere and satisfactory understanding, and of frank and friendly relations’ with Britain; and as a token of his sincerity held out the prospect of opening Talienwan to international trade. He hinted at his displeasure at the acquisition of Port Arthur and Talienwan as ‘hurried counter-measures’ to the German seizure of Kiaochow. Although these steps could not now be reversed, he assured Scott that Russia’s interests in China ‘were not . . . in the direction of further expansion . . . but centred in a peaceful policy of consolidation’. On the main issue Witte remained noticeably cool. The suggested terms of the proposed agreement were no sufﬁcient safeguard against possible evasion by either side: ‘our respective banks might lend their assistance to foreign enterprises, and while keeping ostensibly to the letter[,] violate the spirit of the agreement.’ Instead, Witte developed the idea of a general agreement which would bind both parties to ¹²¹ Scott to Sanderson (private), 22 Sept. 1898, Scott MSS, Add.MSS. 52298; Scott to Salisbury (no. 316, conﬁdential), 22 Sept. 1898, FO 65/1555. ¹²² Scott to Salisbury (nos. 319, conﬁdential, and 325, very conﬁdential), 30 Sept. and 6 Oct. 1898, FO 65/1555; Scott to Sanderson (private), 6 Oct. 1898, Scott MSS, Add.MSS. 52297.

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consult with each other ‘on any occasion of a question arising in any part of the world . . . involving a possible conﬂict between their respective interests’. Rival railway and other commercial projects in China could easily be settled under the auspices of such an agreement, he observed. In part this mirrored Salisbury’s ideas of early 1898; his proposal, nevertheless, met with a cool reception in London. Coming so soon after the successful outcome of the trialof-strength with France over Fashoda, which Salisbury had announced to a buoyed public on 4 November, Witte’s proposed deal, the Prime Minister thought, ‘would be a good deal laughed at’. Balfour, who had initiated the talks in August, felt that Witte’s offer was ‘derisory’. As the Newchwang concession was already settled in principle, he urged that Britain ‘should insist on the delimitation of spheres of interest’.¹²³ Scott proceeded cautiously. Lingering uncertainty over Fashoda and Russia’s likely attitude towards French ambitions in East Africa were factors to be borne in mind, but they were not decisive.¹²⁴ More important was that the talks with Lamsdorff conﬁrmed Scott’s impression that the Russian government had lost interest in the proposed agreement. On 8 November, Lamsdorff echoed Witte’s concern that it might be neutralized by independent, private commercial interests. The nub of the matter was that the authorities in St Petersburg ‘had not retained sufﬁcient power of control over [the Russo-Chinese Bank’s] undertakings to be able now to limit its sphere of activity’. There also seemed to be confusion at the heart of Russia’s government. Whereas Witte had signalled the opening of Talienwan to international trade, Lamsdorff was careful not ofﬁcially to conﬁrm this on the somewhat peculiar grounds that ‘there had been in the past misunderstandings on this subject’.¹²⁵ Salisbury was not satisﬁed with the turn of events. After his own abortive attempt of early 1898 Witte’s suggestion of a general agreement to provide for the settlement of outstanding difﬁculties in various parts of the world held little attraction for him. He regarded a more limited railway agreement as more realistic and practicable. Witte’s proposal, ‘though it contains a series of admirable sentiments’ was no serious basis for negotiations: ‘What we desire is that railway concessions in the Yangtsze region shall not be claimed from the ¹²³ Scott to Salisbury (no. 355, very conﬁdential), 2 Nov. 1898, and mins. Salisbury and Balfour, [c.7 Nov.], FO 65/1556. The minutes are partially reprinted in BD i, no. 59. For the Fashoda background, Grenville, Salisbury, 229–31. ¹²⁴ Scott to Sanderson, 17 Nov. 1898, Scott MSS, Add.MSS. 52297. Neilson, Last Tsar, 200, places too much emphasis on this consideration, owing to a mistaken assumption that Muravev was still in France, see Scott to Salisbury (no. 361, very conﬁdential), 8 Nov. 1898, FO 65/1556. ¹²⁵ Scott to Salisbury (no. 361, very conﬁdential), 8 Nov. 1898, FO 65/1556.

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Tsungli Yamen by Russia, nor shall she oppose our claims there; we are undertaking, as regards Manchuria, to observe the same conduct towards her.’¹²⁶ The ambassador raised the issue at Muravev’s ﬁrst reception for foreign diplomats since his return to the capital on 23 November. At Muravev’s suggestion a dinner was arranged with Witte for the 25 November at which the three were to discuss the two proposed agreements. After a prolonged skirmish, in which the two Russians aired their concerns about Manchuria as ‘the poorer and least valuable part’ of China, they suggested an alternative agreement, based on an exchange of notes binding the two governments ‘to seek, by means of frank and friendly discussion, to reconcile all their interests, ﬁnancial, commercial, and other’. On this basis the precise details of the Newchwang extension line could be settled later. Any future difﬁculties should be resolved ‘Von Fall zu Fall ’ (on a case-by-case basis). All reference to a delimitation of separate spheres in China would be omitted, ‘while tacitly admitting their existence’. In a somewhat uncharacteristic ﬂow of hyperbole, Muravev argued that the alternative agreement would ‘mark the commencement of a new era of conﬁdence’ in Anglo-Russian relations.¹²⁷ This was considerably less than Salisbury had hoped for. Without a ﬁrm agreement, he was little disposed to place any conﬁdence in Russian policy. Staal encouraged Muravev to seize the moment to recommence general pourparlers with Britain on the Chinese Question, but progress remained painfully slow.¹²⁸ If anything, the talks teetered on the brink of collapse. At the end of January, Muravev seized on news that the British commercial settlement at Newchwang had been extended ‘as being directed against the interests of the Russian railway line in Manchuria’, and threatened to abort the negotiations. Witte also raised objections to the insertion of an ‘open-door’ clause.¹²⁹ An agreement with Russia, then, would not be as far-reaching as Salisbury had hoped; but it did not mean that no agreement was possible. On 7 February, Muravev ﬁnally produced the long-promised draft. In essence, it was a slightly revised version of the informal proposal of November 1898 for a general agreement. The question of railway concessions in China was complex, and contending claims were best settled individually, ‘without prematurely touching special questions or points of detail’ in the projected agreement. As its basis ¹²⁶ Tel. Salisbury to Scott (no. 320), 24 Nov. 1898, FO 65/1551. ¹²⁷ Scott to Salisbury (no. 381, very conﬁdential), 26 Nov. 1898, FO 65/1556. ¹²⁸ Staal to Muravev, 25 Nov./7 Dec. 1898, SC ii, 399–400; Scott to Salisbury (no. 3, conﬁdential), 5 Jan. 1899, FO 65/1577. ¹²⁹ Scott to Salisbury (nos. 34–6, all conﬁdential), 2 and 6 Feb. 1899, FO 65/1577; see memo. Bertie, 28 Jan. 1899, FO 17/1398; Edwards, Diplomacy and Finance, 41–2.

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Muravev suggested the abortive proposals made by O’Conor in early 1898 ‘to avoid all antagonism’. To accommodate Salisbury’s original proposal, he conceded that, within a general understanding, an agreement ought to be ‘on the basis of a partition of the preponderance of interests in the spheres of economic or geographical gravitation’ of the two powers. The ‘partition of preponderance’, of course, was precisely what Salisbury had proposed in early 1898. As part of this deﬁnition of spheres, and preliminary to a general understanding, the Russian draft envisaged a reciprocal undertaking by both sides not to obstruct their respective railway enterprises in the Yangtze basin and, in Russia’s case, ‘north of the Great Wall’.¹³⁰ The Russian draft of an agreement was vaguer and weaker than Lessar’s original scheme. Only in one respect did it exceed it: the suggestion of a Russian sphere to the north of the Great Wall was a more liberal deﬁnition of the geographical conﬁnes of Manchuria than Balfour had in mind.¹³¹ Also, the Russian draft made no reference to the proposed prohibition of preferential rates. Yet it was unlikely that the Russians were prepared to offer more, and Scott favoured continuing the talks.¹³² Salisbury concurred. He realized that the draft agreement would bind Britain to abstain from bidding for railway concessions in Manchuria. However, since the already projected British lines in the north were only viable if connected with the Russian lines, ‘Russian goodwill’ was necessary. ‘Our sacriﬁces will not therefore be serious’, Salisbury concluded. This was especially so in light of Muravev’s undertaking to respect British preponderance in the Yangtze basin, which was ‘of considerable value’.¹³³ The tortuous course of the St Petersburg talks conﬁrmed long-held suspicions of the Russians: ‘Negotiating with them is like catching soaped eels’, Salisbury quipped. Still, the draft agreement was not ‘entirely valueless’, he explained to Chamberlain in a bid to win his approval. It gave Britain the formal recognition of her predominant position in the central regions: ‘And we pay nothing for it.’¹³⁴ Sanderson and Bertie had jointly persuaded Staal that the BCC concession would not hand the corporation control of the extension line to the north of Shanhaikwan. Salisbury himself was by no means wholly satisﬁed. The long-drawn-out talks had reduced the project to ‘scanty dimensions’. ¹³⁰ Scott to Salisbury (no. 40, conﬁdential), 8 Feb. 1899, and note Muravev to Scott, 26 Jan./7 Feb. 1899, FO 65/1577. ¹³¹ Montebello to Delcassé (no. 16), 16 Feb. 1899, DDF (1) xv, no. 85. ¹³² Scott to Lascelles (private), 9 Feb. 1899, Lascelles MSS, FO 800/15; Neilson, Last Tsar, 201. ¹³³ Memo. Salisbury, 15 Feb. 1899, Salisbury MSS, 3M/A/89/53. ¹³⁴ Salisbury to Chamberlain, 19 Feb. 1899, Chamberlain MSS, JC 11/30/152.

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But he was anxious to bring the matter to a close now, and was ready to accept Muravev’s draft ‘in its general scope’.¹³⁵ The talks recommenced in early March. Muravev and Lamsdorff accepted the IRNC loan as settled, but insisted that the proposed Anglo-Russian agreement ought to be preliminary only in the form of an exchange of notes, ‘on which Agreements on concrete questions . . . could be grafted’. This would form a ﬁrmer basis ‘for a permanent working settlement’ than Balfour’s original proposal. Scott warned Muravev of the ‘risk of [the] Agreement being wrecked’.¹³⁶ He stressed that the Russian draft was of a ‘considerably less extensive character’: whereas the British proposal ‘would have prevented England and Russia from supporting railways in Manchuria and the Yang-tsze Basin respectively’, Muravev’s draft merely obliged them to abstain from opposing their respective railway projects in these two spheres. Moreover, the talks were once again caught in the cross currents of internal rivalries between the Foreign and Finance Ministries; for, despite Muravev’s assurances, Russian representatives at Peking protested against the IRNC loan.¹³⁷ Although this last problem was resolved, the slow pace of the talks caused some dismay in Britain. Sanderson and Lascelles were anxious for a speedy conclusion of the agreement, lest German diplomacy attempted to sabotage the rapprochement between Britain and Russia.¹³⁸ By mid-March Muravev eventually accepted that the agreement ought to contain a reciprocal pledge by the two sides neither to seek railway concessions for themselves, nor to obstruct efforts by the other to obtain such concessions in the respective spheres. This met some of the British concerns, but Muravev had not revised his wider deﬁnition of the area to the north of the Great Wall as Russia’s sphere. Nor was he in a hurry to bring the talks to a conclusion, and instead seized on further obstacles. Certain provisions in the IRNC loan, he now claimed, might constitute ‘a “foreign control” of the line’, and this, of course, meant British control.¹³⁹ Lessar made similar representations, as Sanderson noted bitterly, ¹³⁵ Tel. Salisbury to Scott (no. 31), 22 Feb. 1899, FO 65/1581; note Bertie to Staal, 12 Feb. 1899, FO 405/84/143. ¹³⁶ Quotes from Scott to Salisbury (no. 60), 2 Mar. 1899, FO 65/1578; and tel. Scott to Salisbury (private), 6 Mar. 1899, FO 65/1582. ¹³⁷ Scott to Salisbury (no. 68), 9 Mar. 1899, and note Scott to Muravev, 22 Feb./7 Mar. 1899, FO 65/1578. ¹³⁸ Lascelles to Scott, 20 Jan. 1899, Scott MSS, Add.MSS. 52301; Sanderson to Scott, 15 Mar. 1899, Add.MSS. 52298. ¹³⁹ Scott to Salisbury (no. 86, conﬁdential), 22 Mar. 1898, FO 65/1578; and (private), 23 Mar. 1899, Scott MSS, Add.MSS. 52303. Muravev had highlighted the strategic value of the Manchurian line. On this point see also G. N. Curzon, Problems of the Far East (London, 1896), 314.

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‘and talked such outrageous nonsense in explanation of their objections that it made me quite sick’. The PUS dismissed the latest manoeuvre as ‘a piece of odious trickery’. Since the Kiaochow crisis Sanderson had favoured an arrangement with Russia on Chinese matters, but now opposed further concessions. It would be regrettable, he informed Scott, if the talks collapsed and tensions arose with Russia, but ‘it will not be our fault’.¹⁴⁰ Muravev yielded on minor points, and hinted that he now wished to limit discussions to railway questions so as to conclude the talks speedily. In reality, this meant raising another objection involving the BCC concession to build a branchline to a mining town near Mukden. Once again, the talks were on the brink of collapse; and once again Salisbury compromised.¹⁴¹ Eventually, on 20 April, agreement was at last reached on the ﬁnal text of the two identical notes. Despite the protracted proceedings, the ﬁnal agreement did not differ in substance from Muravev’s proposal of early February.¹⁴² To Scott’s profound relief, ‘this tiresome railway question’ was ﬁnally settled. The agreement, he thought, would be ‘far more reliable than mere verbal assurances of intention with which we hitherto we have had to deal’.¹⁴³ The Scott–Muravev agreement was signiﬁcant on a number of counts. In terms of the China Question in general, it helped to bring to an end the concession-grabbing hysteria which had been sparked off by the Sino-Japanese War, and intensiﬁed by the Kiaochow crisis. As regarded what Bülow had termed ‘the great Anglo-Russian conﬂict of interests’,¹⁴⁴ the agreement of April 1899 was an ersatz working arrangement which helped to place relations between the two Powers on a more regular footing. The exact details of the agreement were of less importance than its existence, as Salisbury explained to the House of Lords: ‘This . . . Agreement will be of value in preventing the possibility of collision between the two Governments.’¹⁴⁵ The agreement with Russia also complemented the de facto arrangement with Germany regarding railway concessions in the Shantung and Yangtze provinces, as Paul Cambon, France’s new ambassador at London was not slow to point out. Having treated ¹⁴⁰ Sanderson to Scott, 28 Mar. 1899, Scott MSS, Add.MSS. 52298; Neilson, Last Tsar, 203. ¹⁴¹ Tel. Scott to Salisbury (no. 44), 30 Mar. 1899, and mins. Campbell and Villiers, 30 Mar. 1899, FO 65/1582; Salisbury to Scott (no. 82), 7 Apr. 1899, FO 65/1576; tel. Sanderson to Salisbury (no. 35), 14 Apr. 1899, FO 83/1907; see Joseph, Foreign Diplomacy, 390. ¹⁴² Scott to Salisbury (nos. 121 and 127), 20 and 29 Apr. 1899, FO 65/1578; tel. Salisbury to Sanderson, 15 Apr. 1899, FO 83/1907; Salisbury to Brodrick, 1 May 1899, Midleton MSS, PRO 30/67/4. For the text see MacMurray (ed.), Treaties i, 204–5. ¹⁴³ Scott to Sanderson, 20 Apr. 1899, Scott MSS, Add.MSS. 52303. ¹⁴⁴ Memo. Bülow, 14 Mar. 1899, GP xiv/1, no. 3778, 182. ¹⁴⁵ PD (4) lxx (1899), col. 927.

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with Russia and Germany individually in the North, he warned, Britain would now turn to France to settle the future of southern China. He predicted that London would use ‘cette manière brutale’ it had employed against France in African matters. Pointing to the publication in the popular press in Britain of maps showing foreign spheres of inﬂuence in China, Cambon opined that the Scott–Muravev agreement was a form of ‘partage préliminaire’ under which Britain acquired ‘la part du lion’.¹⁴⁶ As so often foreign diplomats were incorrigible in their conviction of the perﬁdious ways of British diplomacy. Salisbury’s ambitions in China were considerably more modest than those attributed to them. The conclusion of the railway agreement highlighted the difﬁculty of ﬁlling the notion of an Anglo-Russian understanding with practical content. It also demonstrated the opportunities the ‘scramble for concessions’ offered British diplomacy, for in this phase of the China Question the differences between the other Powers were more accentuated. It was one of the tactical strengths of Salisbury’s policy that he was able to manipulate these conﬂicting ambitions. Crucially, the formal agreement with Russia dovetailed with the informal understanding with Germany about railway spheres, which historians have tended to overlook. Both agreements underscored Britain’s continued ability to defend her interests in China. To this extent they also buttressed Salisbury’s position within the government. His position was further strengthened by Balfour’s efforts in the railway negotiations, which suggest also that there was a fundamental agreement between him and Salisbury, despite their earlier differences. Yet, Balfour’s involvement in Chamberlain’s private alliance initiative highlighted the fragility of the established foreign policy consensus. Chamberlain’s talks, as the reinterpretation here suggests, cannot be written off as amateur dramatics of no real signiﬁcance. Although ultimately unsuccessful, the talks were symptomatic of a growing discontent with Salisbury’s Fabian policy, and of a lack of conﬁdence in the political elite to tackle Britain’s external problems. Salisbury had no such trouble. But if he had hoped for Anglo-Russian relations to develop more smoothly, he was realistic enough to understand that the agreement did not remove the antagonism between the two countries in Asia.¹⁴⁷ In hindsight, it was little more than a holding operation which would ¹⁴⁶ Cambon to Delcassé (no. 101, très conﬁdentiel ), 20 Apr. 1899, DDF (1) xv, no. 150. For such a map, see Langer, Diplomacy of Imperialism, 685. ¹⁴⁷ Min. Salisbury, 20 May 1899, Bertie MSS, Add.MSS. 63013.

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be rendered obsolete within a year. Indeed, the Yangtze–Manchuria trade-off enshrined in the Scott–Muravev agreement was also an implicit acknowledgement of Britain’s reduced commercial and political position in China. Since 1895, under the pressure of the Franco-Russian combination, intermittently aided by Germany, Britain’s preponderating inﬂuence in China had gradually contracted to the Yangtze region. For the moment the agreement helped to stabilize the situation in China. But this was not to last.

4 ‘Letting things settle themselves’: The China Question, 1899–1900 The arrangements of 1898–9 were attempts to contain the most volatile elements of the China Question, and so stabilize international politics. It was also the ﬁnal ﬂourish of Salisburian diplomacy. In 1900, the scramble for concessions of the previous three years produced a violent backlash in China, the Boxer Uprising, which was to amplify the unease among Unionist ministers about the direction of British policy and, indeed, its underlying principles. It was the China Question rather than the problems in South Africa that would plunge British foreign policy into its most serious crisis yet. The Scott–Muravev agreement had placed Anglo-Russian relations in China on a more regular footing, but did not remove the underlying antagonism between the two countries; nor did it stop further Russian attempts to advance Russian inﬂuence south of the Great Wall. Within less than a month after its conclusion, the Foreign Ofﬁce grew alarmed at Russian attempts to acquire a new concession in order to connect the Chinese capital to the northern railway-network at Newchwang. Bertie warned that, if the bid were successful, the Peking government would fall further under the sway of Russian inﬂuence. Salisbury concurred. Once the Siberian railway was completed, Peking would be ‘in the greatest danger’. Naval powers, such as Britain or Japan, would be unable to aid the Chinese government, and Salisbury speculated that moving the capital to Nanking on the Yangtze would enable Britain to throw her naval inﬂuence into the scales: ‘our gunboats could in a great degree cut the communications behind an advancing enemy’.¹ This amounted to an admission of the limits of British power and inﬂuence in China. Yet, the Newchwang–Peking railway question did not disrupt ¹ Min. Salisbury, 20 May 1899, and memo. Bertie, 19 May 1899, Bertie MSS, Add.MSS. 63013.

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relations with Russia. The Tsar–Muravev–Witte troika that directed Russian policy seemed anxious ‘to keep everything quiet, and to avoid every pretext for raising difﬁculties’ in China or elsewhere.² The railway convention, as the manifestation of this desire, had a calming inﬂuence on Far Eastern politics in general. Russia and the other coercive Powers of the 1895 triplice required tranquillity to digest the gains made in 1898. Given the overriding importance of the Russian alliance, France was bound to follow Russia’s lead. The palpable abatement of Bülow’s much invoked Anglo-Russian antagonism, moreover, signiﬁcantly reduced Germany’s ability to cause mischief. From Britain’s perspective, the conclusion of the railway agreement was not so much a step towards reviving the ‘old Tory policy of friendship with Russia which existed in 1815’, and to which Salisbury seemed to be attached intermittently.³ Rather, it underlined the continuity of his diplomacy with Kimberley’s efforts to stabilize China and so contain this potentially volatile international issue. While the Powers endeavoured to reduce any tensions that might arise around the China Question, developments in China set in motion a new dynamic that would soon dramatically reconﬁgure that question. Few foreign observers anticipated the crisis that would engulf China and the foreign Powers in 1900. Only those who had not succumbed to the concessionhunting euphoria understood that predictions of China’s imminent demise were premature. Satow noted in his diary: ‘People forget the passive resistance of the Chinese, who are like Indian rubber. You can make an impression with your ﬁnger, but as soon as you remove it, the effect disappears.’⁴ Events soon moved beyond merely passive resistance. A coup d’état at Peking in September 1898 ended the brief reform period, and returned to power a group of reactionary Manchu ofﬁcials. They were supported by China’s real ruler, the Empress Dowager Tz’u-Hsi. Most reforms were now reversed, and an alliance between reactionary ofﬁcials and the nascent Boxer movement gradually emerged.⁵ The ﬁrst foreign Power to be confronted with Chinese intransigence was Italy. The Adowa imbroglio in 1896 had done little to dent Italian ambitions to play a major role in international politics. Not to be outdone by the other ² Scott to Salisbury (private), 10 Aug. 1899, Scott MSS, Add.MSS. 52303; Neilson, Last Tsar, 206. ³ Salisbury to MacColl, 6 Sept. 1901, in G. W. E. Russell, Malcolm MacColl: Memoirs and Correspondence (London, 1914), 282–3; Otte, ‘ “Floating Downstream” ’, 114–15 and 119. ⁴ Satow diary, 18 Feb. 1898, Satow MSS, PRO 30/33/16/1; also R. Hart, ‘The Peking Legations: A National Uprising and International Episode’, FR, lxviii, 407 (1900), 713–39. ⁵ MacDonald to Salisbury (no. 201), 30 Sept. 1898, FO 17/1337; V. Purcell, The Boxer Uprising: A Background Study (Cambridge, 1965), 118.

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Powers, Rome joined in the scramble for concessions.⁶ But Italy could achieve little in Asia without British support. Salisbury was reluctant to pull Italy’s chestnut out of the Chinese ﬁre. The emergence of Italy on the scene threatened to complicate Far Eastern politics. The least of the Great Powers, Italy was always liable to be pressed into anti-British combinations by the other Powers. Given her chronic ﬁnancial difﬁculties, moreover, Italy might be compelled to alienate the naval base to another Power. Recognizing Italian pretensions in Chekiang province, Francis Campbell warned, would undermine British inﬂuence in the Yangtze region, especially since that region had been deﬁned to include Chekiang in Scott’s negotiations at St Petersburg; it might lead other Powers ‘to ask us to detach other provinces’.⁷ The ‘considerable geographical confusion’ at Rome as to the full extent of Italy’s demand for a coaling station— in its latest incarnation it seemed to include parts of the Yangtze basin—served as a welcome pretext for Salisbury to refuse the request for diplomatic support. As a result, Italian diplomacy met with a Far Eastern Adowa, and the project of establishing a naval base at San Mun Bay, near Ningpo, south of the Chusan Islands, was quietly dropped.⁸ This curious episode no doubt demonstrated that Britain could still look after her own interests in the immediate vicinity of the Yangtze basin. To that extent it also underlined the continued relevance of a ‘Yangtze ﬁrst’ policy, which Salisbury and Balfour had pursued since the last Far Eastern crisis. Italian approaches were not the same proposition as Russo-French-German competition, however; and the possibility of a re-emerging triplice remained the most serious concern for Salisbury and his ofﬁcials. Furthermore, Italy’s abortive attempt at a policy of the ‘mailed ﬁst’ in China had implications for all the Powers. Her ignominious withdrawal further encouraged the already growing anti-foreign spirit of resistance within Court circles at Peking, as MacDonald noted: ‘their [viz. the Italians’] ships came, looked, and went away, and their ambassador was recalled. The pigtails are winning all along the line.’⁹ The Italian failure to obtain a toehold in China was nothing as compared with the wider backlash in China. The new anti-foreign spirit of resistance was ⁶ Tels. Currie to Salisbury (no. 95), 30 Dec. 1898, and min. Campbell, 30 Dec. 1899, FO 45/785; and vice versa (no. 31), 19 Feb. 1899, FO 45/801. ⁷ Min. Campbell, 11 Feb. 1899 on Currie to Salisbury (no. 29, conﬁdential), 7 Feb. 1899, FO 45/798; note Carnevaro to Currie, 6 Feb. 1899, DDI (3) iii, no. 154. ⁸ Quote from Salisbury to Currie (no. 29A), 22 Feb. 1899, FO 45/797; tel. MacDonald to Salisbury (no. 56), 7 Mar. 1899, FO 17/1383; Currie to Salisbury (no. 100), 15 May 1899, FO 45/799. For Italian dependency on British support in general, see E. Serra, L’Intesa Mediterranea de 1902: una fase risolutiva nei rapporti Italo-Inglesi (Milan, 1957), 80–2. ⁹ MacDonald to Bertie (private), 2 Apr. 1900, FO 17/1412.

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not conﬁned to court ofﬁcials and provincial authorities alone. Strong anti-foreign sentiments permeated the whole social fabric of China, and were perhaps even the glue that held it together. The situation was further aggravated by a general atmosphere of superstition feeding on economic depression and natural calamities; the rising tide of Chinese nationalism was fuelled by public anger over half a century of foreign interference and by a ﬁerce resentment towards Christian missionaries. It was in this heavily charged atmosphere that a major anti-foreign movement broke out in the summer of 1900. The movement was carried by the Boxers, the Western name given to the I-ho ch’üan, or ‘Righteous and Harmonious Fists’. A mixture of secret society and local militia, the Boxers consisted of several, largely uncoordinated groups with a growing appeal to the superstitious and suffering population of the northern provinces.¹⁰ British policy reacted belatedly and without a clear sense of direction to the spread of the Boxer movement in the spring and early summer of 1900. The confused response was the result of two factors, which reinforced each other. The ﬁrst of these was MacDonald’s failure to alert London to the approaching danger. The soldier-diplomat’s phlegm would stand him in good stead at the height of the Boxer crisis, when he took charge of the defence of the besieged foreign legations in the Chinese capital. But he had been slow to recognize the nature and potential of the anti-foreign movement. When the ﬁrst outbreaks of violence occurred in northern China, MacDonald’s reports on the situation remained ambiguous. In a ﬁt of frivolity, he even argued ‘that a few days’ heavy rainfall to terminate the long continued drought[,] which has helped largely to excite the unrest in the country districts, would do more to restore tranquillity than any other measure which either the Chinese or foreign Governments could take’.¹¹ The second factor was that, misled by MacDonald’s reports, Salisbury in particular tended to view the situation exclusively from the perspective of Great Power rivalries. Thus, when the foreign diplomats in Peking had ﬁnally awoken to the seriousness of the situation and took steps to reinforce the legation guards, Salisbury feared a return to the scramble for concessions of 1898: ‘I do not look forward with pleasure to a “Concert of Europe” in China.’ He repeatedly stressed his ‘uneasiness’ at further concerted efforts by the Powers, and instructed MacDonald to ‘keep as much as possible in the ¹⁰ P. A. Cohen, History in Three Keys: The Boxers as Event, Experience and Myth (New York, 1997), 94–5; J. W. Esherick, The Origins of the Boxer Uprising (Berkeley and Los Angeles, 1987), 148–50; Purcell, Boxer Uprising, 32–56. ¹¹ MacDonald to Salisbury (no. 96), 21 May 1900, FO 17/1413.

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background’.¹² Combined, MacDonald’s obtuseness and Salisbury’s concerns about a renewed scramble ensured that British policy was altogether unprepared for the violent disruption the China Question threatened to produce in relations among the Powers. The news of the siege at Peking and of China’s so-called ‘declaration of war’ of 21 June stirred public opinion in Europe and North America. The British press even neglected the war in South Africa to concentrate on Chinese affairs.¹³ Rumours and wholly unfounded stories abounded. Since 14 June there was no direct line of communication with Peking, the only information out of northern China coming from William Richard Carles, the ConsulGeneral at Tientsin. The consul also transmitted a message Hart had somehow smuggled out of Peking, pleading for an immediate relief effort. At the Foreign Ofﬁce, ofﬁcials were ‘living on rumours and conjecture as to the fate of the legations’.¹⁴ Rumours and conjecture furnished no basis for foreign policy, and there was an element of vacillation in British diplomacy. At the end of May, after the summoning of the legation guards, Bertie resignedly accepted that the Chinese question had entered its most critical phase. This, in turn, had far-reaching international implications: ‘The Powers will have to use such strong measures ag[ain]st the Empress Dowager as will bring China to the ground & hasten on partition. The Germans seem to want more than Shantung & to come South.’¹⁵ Several circumstances combined to paralyse British diplomacy in June and July. The fear that the crisis might hasten China’s ﬁnal demise was one factor; the profound shock at the apparent scale of the unrest was another. The old reﬂex in favour of coercive and punitive measures was by no means extinguished. Sanderson and Satow agreed ‘that if the Legations have been destroyed we ought to raze the Imp[eria]l City to the ground’, while Carles and Seymour suggested destroying the ancestral Manchu tombs, some 60 miles east of Mukden. The ¹² Quotes from min. Salisbury, n.d. [21 May 1900], and tel. Salisbury to MacDonald (no. 58), 22 May 1900, FO 17/1418.; see my ‘ “Heaven knows where we shall ﬁnally drift”: Lord Salisbury, the Cabinet, Isolation, and the Boxer Rebellion’, Incidents and International Relations: People, Power, and Personalities, ed. G. Kennedy and K. Neilson (Westport, Conn., 2002), 25–7. ¹³ See B. Nasson, The South African War, 1899–1902 (London, 1999), 211. For China’s declaration of 21 June, see C. C. Tan, The Boxer Catastrophe (New York, 1955), 75. ¹⁴ Sanderson to O’Conor (private), 26 June 1900, O’Conor MSS, OCON 6/1/25; tels. Carles to Salisbury (nos. 24, 25, and 26), 29 June, 1 and 2 July 1900, FO 17/1429; also W. M. Hewlett, The Siege of the Peking Legations, June to August 1900 (Harrow-on-the-Hill, Mdx., 1900), 2–3. For Carles see P. D. Coates, The China Consuls: British Consular Ofﬁcials, 1843–1943 (Oxford and Hong Kong, 1988), 287 and 357. ¹⁵ Satow diary (on conversation with Bertie), 31 May 1900, Satow MSS, PRO 30/33/16/3.

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idea was given serious consideration at the Foreign Ofﬁce.¹⁶ Such proposals were borne out of despair, and a poor substitute for calculated measures. Indeed, Carles’s idea held little attraction for Salisbury, who feared a repetition of Gordon’s ill-fated pursuit of the Mahdi. Any such expedition would divert much-needed manpower resources from the Peking relief operation, and was, moreover, by no means guaranteed to have the desired effect ‘upon mutinous soldiery or a riotous mob’.¹⁷ Salisbury’s analysis was cogent enough. The principal reason for the paralysis in British foreign policy, however, was Salisbury himself. The pace of events, their geographical distance, and the Powers’ inability to inﬂuence them through diplomatic or military pressure forced his hand. As the situation deteriorated in May and June he had to relinquish the conduct of Britain’s China policy to MacDonald and Seymour, but his main concern was with regional Great Power rivalries: ‘The most serious of the many possible dangers is that Russia should be moved to occupy the whole or part of Pekin. . . . if she shows signs of any such intentions it will be necessary for us, to occupy some important part simultaneously.’¹⁸ Salisbury’s fears were fuelled by a detailed report on the regional arms race between Russia and Japan by the military attaché at Peking, Lieutenant-Colonel George Fitzherbert Browne. He discounted the idea of a Russo-Japanese war in the near future, but warned that ‘an unforeseen circumstance might at any moment precipitate affairs’.¹⁹ The Boxer crisis had the potential to escalate into a regional war. Salisbury’s predicament was that he had to leave it to MacDonald to decide British policy ‘on the spot’, whilst simultaneously trying to contain Russia: ‘It would be imprudent to interfere with Sir C. Macdonald’s entire discretion as to his movements. If he left Pekin Russia backed by France would remain supreme. We are bringing up all the forces available. Russia, not China, seems to me the greatest danger at the moment.’²⁰ Hatzfeldt reported that suspicion of Russia was in the ascendancy in Whitehall. In military intelligence circles it was predicted that Russia would try ¹⁶ Satow diary, 3 July 1900, Satow MSS, ibid.; mins. Sanderson, n.d., and Campbell, 29 June 1900, on tel. Carles to Salisbury (no. 22), 26 June 1900, FO 17/1429. ¹⁷ Tel. Salisbury to Gough (no. 77), 2 July 1900, FO 244/585; min. Salisbury, n.d., on tel. Carles to Salisbury (no. 21), 29 June 1900, FO 17/1429. ¹⁸ Tel. Salisbury to MacDonald (no. 64), 7 June 1900, FO 17/1419; tel. Hatzfeldt to Bülow (no. 330), 11 June 1900, GP xvi, no. 4521. ¹⁹ Memo. Browne, ‘Some Notes on the Military Situation in the Far East’, 20 May 1900 (submitted on 1 June), FO 17/1431. ²⁰ Tel. Salisbury to Queen Victoria, 10 June 1900, Salisbury MSS, 3M/A/84/112; see LQV (3) iii, 516.

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‘to keep . . . [China] in as disturbed a state as possible until the whole region is as much in her hands, as Manchuria is; or else establish a pro-Russian sovereign’.²¹ Such assumptions were also shared by the Japanese. Aoki Sh˚zf, now Foreign Minister, thought it was the intention of the Russian government ‘to let Northern China be completely devastated, and then step in’. Like Bertie, Salisbury anticipated a renewed policy of ‘grab’ by the other Powers, and Seymour was instructed to forestall such attempts; if he failed, he was to occupy either the Nanking forts or the Chusan Islands as a counterpoise.²² In a last telegram, which came through on 14 June, MacDonald reported the despatch of Russian and Japanese troops to northern China. He urged Salisbury to reinforce the small number of Seymour’s marines with troops from Hong Kong, Singapore, and India. Britain’s political position in China, he warned, could only be maintained if a force equal in strength to that of Russia were despatched to the crisis region. Yet, all available troops at Hong Kong had already left for Taku; and, therefore, on 18 June arrangements were made by the Indian government for the immediate sending of an expeditionary force to China.²³ These measures were the minimum necessary, and the maximum possible given Britain’s Boer imbroglio. Salisbury was hardly prepared to take any further active steps. In fact, the decision to send reinforcements was largely the work of Secretary of State for India, Lord George Hamilton. Salisbury underrated the gravity of the situation in northern China. As late as 12 June he told Satow that the Boxer ‘business will not come to much’. In a similar vein he assured the Queen a few days later that ‘the Boxers were a mere mob’, incapable of seriously threatening the besieged foreigners.²⁴ Salisbury’s complacency was encouraged by advice he received from MacDonald’s Legation Secretary, currently on home leave. In Bax-Ironside’s assessment, the Boxers were badly organized, ill-led, and lacked proper modern military equipment. Unless Imperial government troops joined the Boxers, he assured Salisbury, ‘there is no real cause for anxiety respecting the lives of Europeans in the capital.’ An emergency defence plan had been drawn up the previous year, and the British and Russian contingents alone should be able to ²¹ Bower to Ardagh (private), 14 June 1900, Ardagh MSS, PRO 30/40/22/1; tel. Hatzfeldt to Auswärtiges Amt (no. 330), 11 June 1900, GP xvi, no. 4521. ²² Tel. Whitehead to Salisbury (private), 26 June 1900, Salisbury MSS, 3M/A/126/84; Villiers to Admiralty, 13 June 1900, ADM 116/116. ²³ Tel. MacDonald to Salisbury (no. 110), 14 June 1900, FO 17/1418; Bertie to Walpole, 15 June 1900, and tel. Hamilton to Curzon, 20 June 1900, L/MIL/7/16666; Dilks, Curzon in India i, 208–9. ²⁴ Quotes from Satow diary, 12 June 1900, Satow MSS, PRO 30/33/16/3; and tel. Salisbury to Queen Victoria, 16 June 1900, Salisbury MSS, 3M/A/84/114.

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ward off the attackers. Bax-Ironside’s excessive optimism was rooted in the erroneous assumption that ‘[i]t scarcely appears probable that Admiral Seymour has returned with the forces to Tientsin’.²⁵ Salisbury’s lack of enthusiasm for active intervention was motivated by a further consideration. While the Boxer rebellion had caught the public imagination, Salisbury reasoned that no vital British interests had been affected by the unrest. The Yangtze provinces remained calm, and trade there was unimpaired. Most importantly, he feared, as Bertie explained to Satow, that strong measures by the powers would bring down the Manchu dynasty and hasten China’s partition. Salisbury was very much alive to the danger that, with her military resources tied down in South Africa, Britain was in no position to afford effective opposition to the partition of China. He particularly suspected Russia, and to some extent Germany, of grand designs in the Far East.²⁶ A growing number of government ministers chafed at the premier’s seeming irresolution. Hamilton, a trained soldier and an experienced administrator, who had served in junior ofﬁces at the India Ofﬁce, and twice at the helm of the Admiralty, before taking over the Indian seals in 1895, complained that Salisbury and the Foreign Ofﬁce were ‘in a hopeless state of ﬂabbiness’. It was impossible to induce the Prime Minister to decide upon a line of policy: ‘To let things drift seems now to be the accepted policy of that Department or at any rate of its chief, and the misfortune is that time is not on our side, and the longer we wait, the worse position we ﬁnd ourselves in.’²⁷ Salisbury’s UnderSecretary at the Foreign Ofﬁce, St John Brodrick, was equally dissatisﬁed. The China crisis alarmed him as much as Salisbury’s inactivity, which he no longer deemed masterly. The Prime Minister’s reluctance to give a decisive lead created a vacuum at the heart of British foreign policy. Brodrick attempted to seize the initiative and force Salisbury to act. Seymour could not sustain his relief campaign without reinforcements, he warned; and suggested that the War and India Ofﬁces ‘should [be] press[ed] for one or two Indian battalions’.²⁸ Brodrick did not let the matter rest there: ‘I have had a week comparable to your Wei-hai-Wei week in 1898’, he complained to Curzon. Having garnered the support of Balfour, Chamberlain, and Goschen, he suggested creating ²⁵ Memo. Bax-Ironside, ‘Local Situation in Peking’, 19 June 1900, Salisbury MSS, 3M/A/106/30. ²⁶ Satow diary, 30 May 1900, Satow MSS, PRO 30/33/16/3; Salisbury to Bertie (private), 18 June 1900, Bertie MSS, Add.MSS. 63014. ²⁷ Hamilton to Curzon (private), 6 June 1900, Hamilton MSS, MSS.Eur.C.126/2; A. P. Kaminsky, The India Ofﬁce, 1880–1910 (New York, 1986), 71–3. ²⁸ Brodrick to Salisbury, 11 June 1900, Midleton MSS, PRO 30/67/5.

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‘some central command’ in northern China on the basis of an understanding with Russia and Japan, under which the former were to provide 4,000 troops each and Britain some 2,000.²⁹ ‘[A]ll China pundits here think the Admiral may be beaten back’, he noted. There was no alternative, he argued, to cooperation with Russia and Japan: ‘Surely we must run [the] Japanese as a counterpoise to Russia if we are to boss the show.’³⁰ The implications were obvious. If the British government failed to ‘boss the show’, other Powers would assume control over the military campaign, and so win political inﬂuence over post-Boxer China. Salisbury was unmoved, and rejected Brodrick’s idea in ‘a huge minute’. Russia and her suspected designs on northern territory remained the key variable of Salisbury’s policy calculations. The Russian element of Brodrick’s plan ‘involve[d] risks greater than the advantages’. Salisbury’s reasoning was ruthless: ‘if [Seymour] can get through they [viz. the Russians] are not wanted for the moment; if he cannot get through they are of no use’. Brodrick’s scheme for a ‘tripartite military alliance’ would ultimately be dominated by the Russians: ‘In respect to almost every military and diplomatic question, they would have our policy in their hands.’ Such subservience to Russia entailed risks ‘of formidable dimension’. Given Russia’s numerical superiority on the ground, differences within the coalition were likely to be decided in her favour. Withdrawal from joint operations in such an event was no realistic option, as ‘we should ﬁnd they had occupied all the best positions’. Neither Seymour nor MacDonald had asked for any further military measures. He dismissed Carles’s reports as ‘rather sensational’; and declined ‘to interfere with their [viz. Seymour’s and MacDonald’s] discretion until I was certain they were incapable of exerting it themselves’.³¹ Brodrick was not convinced by Salisbury’s reasoning, and even less impressed by his handling of the crisis: ‘He will not see any danger. Says the Adm[ira]l hasn’t asked— wh[ich] as his communication was cut is no wonder.’³² At the core of Salisbury’s refusal was his anxiety that Russia might establish herself at Peking ‘au nom de l’Europe’. According to the Austrian ambassador, Salisbury thought China’s partition imminent. Indeed, from Tientsin Carles reported that Russian and French marines had taken control of the railway ²⁹ Quotes from Brodrick to Curzon (private), 15 June 1900, Curzon MSS, MSS.Eur.F.111/10A; Brodrick to Salisbury, 12 June 1900, Midleton MSS, PRO 30/67/5; see Nish, Anglo-Japanese Alliance, 83–4. ³⁰ Brodrick to Curzon (private), 15 June 1900, Curzon MSS, MSS.Eur. F. 111/10A. ³¹ Salisbury to Brodrick (private), 15 June 1900, Midleton MSS, PRO 30/67/5. ³² Brodrick to Curzon (private), 15 June 1900, Curzon MSS, MSS. Eur.F.111/10A; Satow diary, 15 June 1900 (on conversation with Brodrick), Satow MSS, PRO 30/33/16/3.

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there: ‘Everything seems to indicate a separate understanding between France & Russia.’³³ Salisbury’s reluctance to embark on an extensive campaign also was sensible in light of the attitude of the other Powers. At Berlin, Bülow assured Lascelles that the forces already on the ground were sufﬁcient to quell the unrest and restore order.³⁴ Undeterred, Brodrick again raised the idea of a joint military offensive to relieve Peking, and, again, ran into Salisbury’s opposition. ‘L[or]d Salisbury has been in his most wicked mood’, Brodrick informed Curzon. The crisis was local and any overture to Russia and Japan would merely encourage them to exact a high price for their military assistance. The increased presence of Russian and German troops moreover, he decided, ‘might compromise the Admiral & Sir C. MacDonald’. Brodrick enlisted the support of Balfour, Goschen, and other ministers for his plan of a multilateral expeditionary force for northern China. In the evening of 21 June they ‘agreed . . . I should go & try to frighten L[or]d S[alisbury] before Cabinet [on 22 June]’. Salisbury eventually agreed to the despatch of 10,000 troops by each Power, combined with an invitation to the United States to join in the campaign. The Foreign Secretary was adamant that there was to be no formal understanding. He preferred ‘a Waterloo arrangement. Wellington & Blücher separately.’ Brodrick had a more acute sense of the scale of the crisis, and demanded ‘4 Wellingtons & 3 Blüchers’, but could not overcome Salisbury’s opposition. The result, he summarized, was that ‘we get the troops but the organization is left to settle itself ’. Brodrick was not satisﬁed with the outcome of his latest talk with Salisbury. Signiﬁcantly, Balfour and Goschen, to whom Brodrick reported immediately after the interview, were equally disappointed: ‘Arthur & Goschen threw up their hands . . . practically saying, either L[or]d S[alisbury] must be upset wh[ich] none of us will do, or nothing will be done.’³⁵ The Cabinet sanctioned Hamilton’s decision to send reinforcements from India on 22 June, but Brodrick kept up the pressure on Salisbury to accept more than a ‘Waterloo arrangement’. At a further ‘conclave’, Balfour, Goschen, and Hicks Beach, ‘agreed that I should have another shot at him [viz. Salisbury]’. He caught up with Salisbury at the House of Lords on 25 June. Walking back with him to the Foreign Ofﬁce, he developed his latest plan: the Powers should be ³³ Quotes from Cambon to Delcassé (nos. 162 and 168), 12 and 21 June 1900, DDF (1) xvi, nos. 177 and 195; and tel. Carles to Salisbury (no. 9), 13 June 1900, FO 17/1429. ³⁴ Lascelles to Salisbury (no. 155, conﬁdential), 15 June 1900, BD ii, no. 2. ³⁵ Brodrick to Curzon (conﬁdential), 22 June 1900, Curzon MSS, MSS.Eur, F.111/10A; and to Salisbury, 21 June 1900, Salisbury MSS, 3M/E/Brodrick (1878–1900).

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invited each ‘to furnish a quota of 10,000 or 12,000 men’; as the bulk of these troops was unlikely to arrive for at least another month, Japan ‘should be invited to send an additional force beyond her quota’, some 25,000–30,000 troops. This amounted to an international mandate for Japan to undertake the relief of the legations. Salisbury raised new obstacles. The Russian and German ambassadors were ill; Muravev had died four days previously; and Lascelles was on leave from Berlin: ‘rapid negotiations’ were not possible, and ‘[n]either Russians, Germans, nor Japanese cared much what happened to their Legations & [the] Germans were most unwilling to spend money in China’. All this was a not very elaborate smokescreen to hide Salisbury’s real motives, for it suited him to leave the military arrangements as vague as possible. In the absence of any binding arrangement involving Russia, he could attempt to use Japan as his cat’s paw. After his conversation with Brodrick, Salisbury had an interview with the Japanese chargé d’affaires: ‘L[or]d S[alisbury] pressed upon the Jap[anese] the fact that the opportunity was now theirs; if they did not intervene effectively disorder might increase, & if there was a general break-up, Russia would dominate Pekin which ought not suit their views.’³⁶ This was a direct appeal to Tokyo’s suspicions of Russia. Already before the outbreak of the present crisis, Aoki had hinted that only ‘a second Sebastopol’ could stop further Russian expansion in Asia.³⁷ However strong his conviction of the inevitability of an ultimate clash with Russia, the Japanese foreign minister was reluctant to act as anyone’s cat’s paw. The trauma of 1895 had left deep mistrust of all foreign Powers. He shared Salisbury’s assumption ‘that Russia probably means to take advantage of [the] present disturbances’, but insisted on a formal understanding with Britain and Germany to counteract Russian designs as an imperative precondition of Japanese acceptance of the mandate.³⁸ Such tripartite combination had been Aoki’s pet project since his Berlin days, though it seems unlikely that he had anything more in mind than a speciﬁc agreement on the nature and range of the military operations in China. In any case, Salisbury showed himself unreceptive to Aoki’s suggestions. In turn, the latter now became more cautious. Nevertheless, Brodrick and Balfour kept up the momentum with a ‘third appeal’ to Japan.³⁹ ³⁶ Memo. Brodrick, ‘Position at Taku’, 25 June 1900, Midleton MSS, PRO 30/67/5; and to Curzon (conﬁdential), 29 June 1900, Curzon MSS, MSS.Eur.F.111/10A. ³⁷ Whitehead to Bertie (private), 24 May 1900, FO 46/527; Grenville, Lord Salisbury, 311. ³⁸ Tel. Whitehead to Salisbury (private), 26 June 1900, Salisbury MSS, 3M/A/126/84; also tel. Cobianchi to Visconti-Venosta (no. 1062), 23 June 1900, DDI (2) iii, no. 415. ³⁹ Brodrick to Curzon (private), 6 July 1900, Curzon MSS, MSS.Eur.F.111/1B. For a different view, see Grenville, Salisbury, 311–12.

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Brodrick’s plans were further complicated by Russo-French objections to a mandate for Japan. Both had welcomed the despatch of further Japanese troops, but refused to grant Tokyo a ‘privileged position’ in China. The prospect of a possible confrontation with the Franco-Russian combination may well have inﬂuenced the Japanese government in its decision against the further augmentation of its expeditionary force. Fear of Russia’s big stick even outweighed the attraction of the ﬁnancial carrot which Britain now proffered in the shape of a £1m subsidy to Japan to expedite the immediate mobilization and despatch of a 20,000-strong Japanese relief force. The Itf administration refused to be bribed.⁴⁰ Salisbury himself had been lukewarm on the command question, and only reluctantly agreed to the despatch of additional Indian troops. The command question, Hamilton informed the Viceroy, had to remain open: ‘The entire executive control of any military operations undertaken in China by [Britain] rested for the present in the [India O]fﬁce and your government.’⁴¹ If the command question were ever raised again, Hamilton was bound to play a key role in policy-making. The premier, meanwhile, left London at the end of June, immuring himself at Hatﬁeld, deeply disillusioned with the diplomacy of coercion which had brought about the crisis. He was now in no doubt ‘that the Legations have been slaughtered . . . [and that] the great object, the rescue of the Diplomatic Body, appears to be no longer possible.’ Bertie was equally pessimistic; ‘the Chinese have really massacred the Legations. The integrity of China is at an end; if the Russians occupy Peking, we must give up the North, and establish a scion of the Viceroys in the S[outh].’⁴² Salisbury only became active again, when at the beginning of August it became clear that the foreign community at Peking was still holding out. Previously he had accepted the massacre of the legations as a fact, and, since Britain’s interests in China did not lie in the crisis region, he was reluctant to enter into military cooperation with Germany and Russia. Any such cooperation was likely to be ‘to the beneﬁt of Russia and Germany by an extension of their territorial sphere of inﬂuence. So soon however as he found that the ⁴⁰ Salisbury to Queen Victoria, 14 July 1900, CAB 41/25/44. For Franco-Russian objections, see Montebello to Delcassé (no. 64), 5 July 1900, DDF (1) xvi, no. 213. ⁴¹ Hamilton to Curzon, 29 June 1900 (copy), WO 32/6144; memo. Ellis, ‘Amalgamated Scheme for the Despatch of the Expeditionary Force to China’, 17 Sept. 1901, L/MIL/17/02/13. ⁴² Quotes from Salisbury to Queen Victoria, 20 July 1900, CAB 41/25/45; and Satow diary, 25 June 1900 (on conversation with Bertie), Satow MSS, PRO 30/33/16/3.

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Legations were still in existence, he felt bound to at once [sic] authorize our advance.’⁴³ For a crucial span of time Britain’s foreign policy seemed to be adrift. As Brodrick noted, Salisbury had to be ‘wound out of inertia. . . . Arthur [Balfour] is in despair at his apathy.’⁴⁴ It was a critical period, for British diplomacy came under additional pressure to agree to immediate action. Military developments in northern China dictated the pace and direction of international politics. Seymour’s ‘Dash for Peking’ had been halted halfway between Tientsin and Peking. Outnumbered and short of ammunition and equipment, he retreated to Tientsin. When the native city there, which had brieﬂy been under the control of Boxer forces, fell on 14 July, it marked the ﬁrst break-through in the relief effort. It demoralized the ill-disciplined Boxer forces; and encouraged the allied commanders to prepare an advance on the capital.⁴⁵ The military campaign had political implications. Impressed by the need for urgent action, the allied commanders at Tientsin had improvised an ersatz coalition, which had no other object than the relief of Peking. The humanitarian motivation was genuine enough. Little attention, however, was paid to the aftermath of the military operations. It was indicative of the reactive nature of Salisbury’s policy that Seymour had received no guidance on the wider objectives of the operation. The political vacuum at the heart of the China relief operation invited attempts to impose new objectives. The gathering of momentum of the military campaign in northern China raised the question of overall command. Already at the end of June Seymour had warned the Admiralty that ‘if a march on Peking becomes necessary there would have to be one commander of the combined forces’.⁴⁶ To his political masters in London this was anathema, and for the present moment at any rate the executive control of any British military operations was vested in the India Ofﬁce and the Indian government. The command question was now raised in a Russian circular note, suggesting ‘some agreement which would secure unity of action and direction’ of the ⁴³ Hamilton to Curzon (private), 3 Aug. 1900, Hamilton MSS, MSS.Eur.C.126/2; tel. MacDonald to Salisbury (unnumbered), 3 Aug. 1900, FO 17/1418. ⁴⁴ Brodrick to Curzon, 6 July 1900, Curzon MSS, MSS.Eur.F.111/10B. ⁴⁵ Report Norie, ‘Ofﬁcial Account of the Military Operations in China, 1900–1’, 12 Apr. 1903, ch. 2, L/MIL/17/20/12; NID Report no.587, ‘Diary of Principal Events in China during the Boxer Insurrection, 1900’, n.d., ADM 232/32. On Seymour see R. Brooks, The Long Arm of Empire: Naval Brigades from Crimean War to Boxer Rebellion (London, 1999), 237–8. ⁴⁶ Tel. Seymour to Admiralty (no. 384), 27 June 1900, WO 32/6145; memo. Browne, 26 July 1900, L/MIL/7/16713.

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international forces.⁴⁷ In a follow-up conversation with Salisbury the Russian chargé d’affaires emphasized the importance ‘of concentrating in one single hand the command and direction of all foreign detachments’ in the metropolitan province of Chili. Crucially, Count Vladimir Nikolaevich Lamsdorff, since Muravev’s death interim head at the Choristers’ Bridge, also stressed that Russia ‘would have to take independent military actions in the north of China bordering on her own territory and on her railway; and it was to be assumed that other Powers would act similarly in the South and Centre of China where their own territory and special interests were more immediately concerned’.⁴⁸ This was an obvious attempt to ﬁll the Scott–Muravev agreement with new meaning, and to apply its principles to general political questions in China. Lamsdorff ’s language fuelled fresh concerns about Russian expansionist designs. On 19 July, the Cabinet opposed ‘any Commander-in-Chief other than an Englishman . . . to take control of the operations of the Allied Forces’. The appointment of a Russian ofﬁcer to the overall command was regarded as especially harmful to Britain’s prestige in China.⁴⁹ This latter point was seized upon by Hicks Beach. The key role played by the Chancellor in the China discussions of 1900 reﬂected the ﬁnancial constraints on British foreign policy, which had grown following the outbreak of the Boer War. Now the China expedition made further demands on his depleted reserves. As a result, the Chancellor was ‘at his wit’s end’, and ‘very difﬁcult to deal with, whenever his assent is required for any extra expenditure which is not essential to the equipment or the probable success of the expedition. He declines in any way to have a thing, as he says, sprung upon him at a moment when he is so hard pressed.’⁵⁰ Given the ﬁnancial implications of the current crisis in China, Beach’s intervention could not be ignored. From the very beginning of the Boxer crisis he had opposed the despatch of a large expeditionary force. He had also followed Salisbury in arguing that British interests lay in the central and southern regions of China, rather than the troubled northern areas.⁵¹ And, now Beach ⁴⁷ Scott to Salisbury (no. 215), 11 July 1900, FO 65/1600; Hamilton to Curzon, 29 June 1900 (copy), WO 32/6144; Montebello to Delcassé (no. 68, conﬁdentiel), 12 July 1900, DDF (1) xvi, no. 225. ⁴⁸ Quotes from tel. Salisbury to Scott (no. 107), 15 July 1900, FO 65/1603; and despatch vice versa (no. 225), 21 July 1900, FO 65/1600. ⁴⁹ Hamilton to Curzon (private), 6 and 20 July 1900, Hamilton MSS, MSS.Eur.C.126/2. ⁵⁰ Hamilton to Curzon (private), 12 July 1900, Hamilton MSS, MSS.Eur.C.126/2. For the background, see memo. Hamilton, ‘Forecast of ﬁnancial position’, 14 June 1900, and note Hamilton to Beach, 5 July 1900, T 168/48; see Lady V. Hicks Beach, Life of Sir Michael Hicks Beach (Earl St. Aldwyn) (2 vols., London, 1932) ii, 117–21. ⁵¹ Hicks Beach to Salisbury (private), 2 Sept. 1900, Salisbury MSS, 3M/E/Hicks Beach (1899–1902); and vice versa (private), 12 Aug. 1900, Hicks Beach MSS, PCC/72/2; see M. Wright,

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opposed an international command structure of the military expedition in northern China. Other ministers had a more acute sense of crisis. They demanded prompt action, warning that it would be ‘risky and injudicious to decline to come to any understanding as to the appointment of a foreign ofﬁcer in this position’. Hamilton warned Salisbury that the lack of effective cooperation between the various contingents at Tientsin would increase the risk of military failure.⁵² Salisbury held the balance between the two groups, but he refused to bring the matter to a decision. He was now in his seventieth year, and both age and ill-health had begun to take their toll. At the Cabinet meetings in the summer of 1900 he ‘sat a crumpled heap, like Grandpa Smallweed’.⁵³ Eventually, a compromise was agreed upon. The ‘great importance and value’ of a uniﬁed command structure were recognized, but no agreement could be had without a clear and binding understanding on the politico-military objectives of the allied operations. The ministers also balked at the ‘entirely new experiment to put a large body of English soldiers under a foreign military commander’.⁵⁴ Britain might need the foreign manpower to restore order in China; but Salisbury was not prepared to allow Britain’s overstretch to be converted into a blank cheque for Russia. Lamsdorff was now on the defensive. Reiterating the urgent necessity of concentrating the command in one single hand, he gave vague assurances that the ‘ulterior measures’ would be conﬁned to the metropolitan province of Chili, but emphasized that Russia would take unilateral military action in her northern sphere. It was a last attempt to salvage his scheme. Within twenty-four hours he abandoned it altogether. Russia, as Scott observed, was in a ‘terrible ﬁx’, ﬁnancially and militarily unprepared for a major campaign in Asia.⁵⁵ The demise of Lamsdorff ’s démarche did not remove the chief command question from the international agenda. The centre of international diplomatic activity shifted to Berlin. Although initially reluctant to join in any collective military measures, the Wilhelmstrasse was spurred into action by the siege. ‘Treasury Control, 1854–1914’, Studies in the Growth of Nineteenth Century Government (London, 1972), 217–22. ⁵² Quotes from Hamilton to Curzon (private), 20 July 1900, Hamilton MSS, MSS.Eur.C.126/2; Hamilton to Salisbury (conﬁdential), 16 July 1900, Salisbury MSS, 3M/E/Hamilton (1898–1902). ⁵³ Esher journal, 4 Dec. 1900, EJL i, 270; Hamilton to Curzon (private), 17 Aug. 1899, Curzon MSS, MSS.Eur. F.111/158. ⁵⁴ Salisbury to Queen Victoria, 20 July 1900, CAB 41/25/45. For the Cabinet discussions also Hamilton to Curzon (private), 20 July 1900 (1st letter), Hamilton MSS, MSS.Eur.C.126/2. ⁵⁵ Scott to Sanderson (private), 25 July 1900, Scott MSS, Add.MSS. 52303; Scott to Salisbury (no. 225), 21 July 1900, FO 65/1600; Neilson, Last Tsar, 210.

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Bülow’s rationale was simple. Russia’s military intervention would help to accelerate the anticipated conﬂagration between the Russo-French combination and the assumed Anglo-Japanese group. This, in turn, could be manipulated by Germany acting as the ‘honest broker’, thus re-establishing her as Europe’s centre of diplomatic gravity.⁵⁶ The ailing Hatzfeldt acted immediately, and dispatched Eckardstein to the Foreign Ofﬁce. In his interview with Eric Barrington, Salisbury’s private secretary, Eckardstein uttered mysterious warnings about Russian intrigues against Britain in Asia and the possible revival of the triplice combination; France was about to propose a German general for the chief-command, but it ‘would gratify the German Emperor beyond anything [if ] England should forestall any other Power with the proposal’.⁵⁷ The Prime Minister was unimpressed. Eckardstein’s penchant for ‘blood-curdling reports of Russian and French intrigues’ was too well known to cause much excitement. ‘I think I have heard some of this before’, Salisbury commented wryly.⁵⁸ According to Salisbury’s report to the monarch, the Cabinet discussed only Lamsdorff ’s circular at its meeting on 19 July, but not Eckardstein’s private communication of the previous day. The latter, by contrast, informed Berlin that the Waldersee scheme had also been on the agenda; and that ‘some of the most senior ministers had spoken in favour of it, Lord Salisbury however wanted to consider it still further’.⁵⁹ It is difﬁcult to establish whether Salisbury purposely withheld information from the Queen, as he was wont to do, or whether Eckardstein set out deliberately to mislead his superiors, as he occasionally did. Whatever the truth about the Cabinet session of 19 July, there was growing disquiet about Salisbury’s handling of the command question: ‘We are all most unhappy about China. We cannot get the Prime Minister either to state a policy, or to adopt any deﬁnite line. He seems disposed to let things settle themselves, which may mean the massacre of every Christian in China. [. . .] Heaven knows where we shall ﬁnally drift.’⁶⁰ ⁵⁶ Tels. Bülow to Wilhelm (no. 71), and vice versa (no. 9), both 19 June 1900, GP xvi, nos. 4527–8; see K. A. Lerman, The Chancellor as Courtier: Bernhard von Bülow and the Governance of Germany 1900–1909 (Cambridge, 1990), 29–32; A. Mombauer, ‘Wilhelm, Waldersee and the Boxer Rebellion’, The Kaiser: New Research on Wilhelm II’s Role in Imperial Germany, ed. idem and W. Deist (Cambridge, 2003), 91–118. ⁵⁷ Memo. Barrington, 18 July 1900, Salisbury MSS, 3M/A/122/87; Holstein to Hatzfeldt (ganz geheim), 24 June 1900, HatzP ii, no. 821. ⁵⁸ Quotes from Chamberlain to Devonshire (private), 5 Nov. 1899, Devonshire MSS, 340.2802; and min. Salisbury, n.d. [19 July 1900], Salisbury MSS, 3M/A/122/87. ⁵⁹ Salisbury to Queen Victoria, 20 July 1900, CAB 41/25/45; tel. Hatzfeldt to Auswärtiges Amt (no. 434), and to Holstein (privat), both 20 July 1900, GP xvi, nos. 4578–9. ⁶⁰ Hamilton to Curzon (private), 20 July 1900 (2nd letter), Hamilton MSS, MSS.Eur.C.126/2.

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This sense of drift, caused by the China Question, strongly affected especially the younger ministers. The premier was now thought a liability, ‘a strange, powerful, inscrutable, brilliant, obstructive dead-weight at the top’. The government, they argued, ‘wants badly new blood, and the Prime Minister is tired and absolutely . . . out of touch with public opinion’.⁶¹ Britain’s foreign policy, it seemed to them, had become ﬂotsam in a sea of dissenting voices; and it drifted wherever the competing currents would carry it. Criticism of Salisbury grew in strength and intensity, and became a powerful motivating force behind the actions of a group of ministers dissatisﬁed with Salisbury’s stewardship of foreign policy. Hatzfeldt and Eckardstein were well aware of these divisions. The ambassador reverted to the preferred diplomatic tactic of the London embassy, the indirect approach. He instructed Eckardstein to cultivate his contacts with Balfour, Chamberlain, and other supposedly friendly ministers. Hatzfeldt also sought to enlist Lascelles, who was on leave in London, and whose presumed pro-German leanings he hoped to exploit. These efforts were in vain, and at the end of July it became clear that British support for Waldersee’s candidature was not forthcoming.⁶² Salisbury’s doubts about the efﬁcacy of an international command were genuine; but his refusal to indulge Germany’s command aspirations was also motivated by a profound mistrust of the German Emperor whom he suspected of having ‘big designs in China’.⁶³ Wilhelm never ceased to feed the premier’s suspicions. On 27 July, he delivered his infamous ‘Hun’ speech, whose bellicose bombast now offered Salisbury a welcome pretext not to accept the German initiative. Its ‘warlike spirit’, Lascelles explained repeatedly at the Wilhelmstrasse, made it difﬁcult for Britain to place troops under German command.⁶⁴ But this was not the only reason, as Sanderson explained. The recent strains in Anglo-German relations meant that ‘the public here would not have understood our initiating the proposal. The German Press would certainly have said that it was a manoeuvre to brouiller Germany with France. The French Press ⁶¹ Quotes from Curzon to Brodrick (conﬁdential), 19 July 1900, Midleton MSS, Add.MSS. 50074; Hamilton to Curzon (private), 8 Aug. 1900, Hamilton MSS, MSS.Eur.C.126/2. ⁶² Hatzfeldt to Eckardstein, 18 and 20 July 1900, in Eckardstein, Lebenserinnerungen ii, 189–91; tels. Derenthall to Hatzfeldt (no. 253), 31 July 1900, and vice versa (no. 469), 31 July 1900, GP xvi, nos. 4595–6. ⁶³ Satow diary, 20 Aug. 1900, Satow MSS, PRO 30/33/16/3; Salisbury to Brodrick (private), 28? Apr. 1899, Midleton MSS, PRO 30/67/4; see T. G. Otte, ‘ “The Winston of Germany”: The British Foreign Policy Élite and the Last German Emperor’, CJH xxxvi, 3 (2001), 488–9. ⁶⁴ Lascelles to Salisbury (nos. 203 and 210), 1 and 9 Aug. 1900, FO 64/1494; see The Times (30 July 1900).

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would have been offended. If any Power was to make the proposal the Russians were much the best.’⁶⁵ Salisbury’s refusal soured relations with Berlin. The Kaiser complained to the Prince of Wales that Salisbury was ‘enigmatic’, and that his policy statements ‘originated not far from the tripod of Pythia’. He could not ‘be expected to play the game of follow my leader blind-fold where the interests of my country are at stake’.⁶⁶ Salisbury was forced on the defensive and had to justify his policy. There was nothing Delphic about it; its object was ‘to save Sir C[laude] M[acDonald] and our countrymen. Beyond this we desire to secure our trade interests and treaty rights; and to maintain the territorial integrity of China.’ As for the Kaiser’s charge that Salisbury expected others to follow his lead, it had to be ‘remembered that the seizure of Kiaochou, which . . . was the origin of all these troubles, was done without a hint of the German Emperor’s intention being allowed to transpire to the English Government’.⁶⁷ The Germans turned to St Petersburg, and the Choristers’ Bridge proved more amenable than Downing Street. A personal telegram from the Kaiser to the Tsar, offering Waldersee’s services to the Powers clinched the deal.⁶⁸ Behind the Tsar’s acceptance lay the calculation that it would help to advance Russia’s pénétration paciﬁque of northern China, as Scott warned Salisbury: ‘Russia would like to put Germany in the front rank in opposing China, as long as she has any hopes of coming eventually to terms with any remnant of authority in Peking.’⁶⁹ German diplomats now openly lobbied for Waldersee’s appointment. Lascelles was told that the Tsar had accepted it; that the Japanese had signalled their consent; and that the German government was anxious now to learn whether Britain would follow suit. Eduard von Derenthall, the Deputy State-secretary at the Auswärtiges Amt, also intimated that the Tsar would hardly have made the move without prior consultation with France, and that Paris and St Petersburg were probably trying to draw Germany closer to them.⁷⁰ This was yet another attempt to resurrect the phantom of the Far ⁶⁵ Sanderson to Scott (private), 20 Aug. 1900, Scott MSS, Add.MSS. 52298. ⁶⁶ Wilhelm II to Prince of Wales (private), 31 July 1900, extract communicated by Eckardstein on 2 Aug. 1900, Salisbury MSS, 3M/A/86/26. ⁶⁷ Memo. Salisbury, 2 Aug. 1900, Salisbury MSS, 3M/A/86/27. ⁶⁸ Tel. Wilhelm II to Bülow, 6 Aug. 1900, GP xvi, no. 4602; Lascelles to Salisbury (no. 203), 1 Aug. 1900, FO 64/1494; P. Winzen, ‘Prince Bülow’s “Weltmachtpolitik” ’, AJPH xxii, 2 (1976), 228–33. ⁶⁹ Scott to Salisbury (private), 9 Aug. 1900, Scott MSS, Add. MSS. 52,303; and (no. 262), 13 Aug. 1900, FO 65/1600; L. K. Young, British Policy in China, 1895–1902 (Oxford, 1970), 153–4; A. Malozemoff, Russian Far Eastern Policy, 1881–1904 (Berkeley and Los Angeles, 1958), 413–14. ⁷⁰ Tel. Lascelles to Salisbury (no. 20), 7 Aug. 1900, FO 64/1496; memo. Maj. Crowe, ‘General Count von Waldersee’, 8 Aug. 1900, L/MIL/7/16731.

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Eastern triplice. Lascelles and Scott were not slow to establish that Russia had not acted in unison with France, and shortly afterwards also ascertained that the Tsar had not taken the initiative, but had reacted to a German overture. Still, Lascelles suggested accepting Waldersee’s appointment ‘to avoid any appearance of dissension’.⁷¹ The latest turn of events forced the Cabinet to reconsider its decision of 19 July. Salisbury was loath to accept a fait accompli. Nevertheless, repeated German hints about a recrudescence of the Far Eastern triplice were not without effect. Bertie especially was ever ready to accept this. Acquiescence in Waldersee’s international elevation, he counselled, was politic. The Peking campaign would be over by the time the Count arrived in China. More importantly, Germany might make a British refusal to accept Waldersee ‘a pretext for a renewal of the German–Russian–French alliance as regards China’.⁷² The Cabinet assembled on 9 August to discuss the reply to the German démarche. Most ministers had already left the capital for the country. Bereft of Beach’s support, Salisbury found himself in a minority. According to Brodrick, Devonshire, Lansdowne, Balfour, Chamberlain, Goschen, and Hamilton ‘were all strongly in favour of [Waldersee’s appointment]’.⁷³ Such was Salisbury’s position in the Cabinet still, that the outcome of the meeting was another compromise. It was agreed that if the other Powers placed their forces under the ﬁeld marshal’s supreme direction, Britain would follow their example.⁷⁴ Britain’s acceptance of Waldersee’s command was received with great relief at Berlin, but also with some degree of irritation in light of its conditional nature.⁷⁵ This was hardly the kind of arrangement the German leadership had hoped for. Worse, on that same day, Peking was taken by the relief column from Tientsin, some six weeks before Waldersee would arrive at Taku. Germany was now no longer in a position to play the role of Kapellmeister conducting the Concert of Europe in China, as the Emperor and his entourage ⁷¹ Lascelles to Salisbury (no. 211), 10 Aug. 1900, FO 64/1494; and (private), 10 Aug. 1900, Salisbury MSS, 3M/A/121/10. According to Derenthall’s minute Lascelles ‘warmly supported’ Waldersee’s candidature, see GP xvi, 88, n. *. ⁷² Bertie to Salisbury (private), 8 Aug. 1900, FO 64/1496; see Monson to Salisbury (private), 22 July 1900, Salisbury MSS, 3M/A/118/52. ⁷³ Brodrick to Hicks Beach (private), 9 Aug. 1900, Hicks Beach MSS, PCC/72/2. ⁷⁴ Tel. Salisbury to Lascelles (no. 117), 9 Aug. 1900, FO 64/1496; Note Verbale, 10 Aug. 1900, FO 64/1494, also in GP xvi, no. 4607 (in the GP version it reads supreme command rather than supreme direction). ⁷⁵ Lascelles to Salisbury (private), 10 Aug. 1900, Lascelles MSS, FO 800/17; see tel. Delcassé to Boutiron (no. 63), 14 Aug. 1900, DDF (1) xvi, no. 276; Bertie to Godley (immediate and conﬁdential), 13 Aug. 1900, L/MIL/7/16731.

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had hoped.⁷⁶ In Britain there were misgivings as well. Sanderson was particularly alarmed at its vague terms: I confess I do not feel comfortable as to what the German intention may be. Waldersee is, or was at all events, a most ambitious man—and his Imperial Master is anxious to be always playing a distinguished part before his own subjects and the world. I do not quite understand who is to give Waldersee his instructions. I have seen no arrangement on the subject.⁷⁷

Thus, when Waldersee arrived in China, there were many loose ends and even more trip wires. The 18,000-strong Allied relief force entered the Chinese capital on 14 August. With the fall of Peking commenced a new phase of the China Question, no less volatile than the preceding one. In the midst of preparations by the occupying Powers for an allied victory parade through the Forbidden City, Lamsdorff issued a circular note on 26 August, announcing the withdrawal of the Russian legation and troops from the capital to Tientsin. He proposed that the other Powers should follow this step, and that the peace negotiations be postponed until the court returned to Peking.⁷⁸ The note came as a surprise to the other Powers, though France swiftly adhered to it. In Scott’s reading of the situation, the decision to evacuate had been taken by the Tsar who did not ‘want the military party to run away with the F.O. coach, & I suspect that he cannot trust the cossacks to keep from looting and running amuck in captured towns’.⁷⁹ In reality, the maintenance of a central government at Peking and the restoration of the status quo ante bellum was a key objective of Russian Far Eastern policy. For this reason Lamsdorff claimed Russia to be disinterested, and disclaimed any territorial designs on China.⁸⁰ This was a smokescreen. China’s decentralization would have meant the transfer of power to the viceroys in the provinces, the most powerful of whom resided in the Yangtze area, well beyond Russia’s reach. By evacuating Peking Russian diplomacy hoped to induce the Chinese court to ⁷⁶ Eulenburg to Emperor Wilhelm II (private), 11 Aug. 1900, EulP iii, no. 1423; see Gaslee to Hamilton (no. 548), 22 Aug. 1900, L/MIL/7/16740. ⁷⁷ Sanderson to Scott (private), 28 Aug. 1900, Scott MSS, Add.MSS. 52298. ⁷⁸ Tel. Lamsdorff to Urusov, 12/25 Aug. 1900, DDF (1) xvi, no. 285; tel. Scott to Salisbury (no. 93), 29 Aug. 1900, FO 65/1604; tel. Gaselee to Bigge, 28 Aug. 1900, QVL (3) iii, 585–6. ⁷⁹ Scott to Bertie, 6 Sept. 1900, Scott MSS, Add.MSS. 52302. ⁸⁰ Scott to Salisbury (no. 277), 30 Aug. 1900, FO 65/1600; Montebello to Delcassé (no. 90), 31 Aug. 1900, DDF (1) xvi, no. 294; B. A. Romanov, Russia in Manchuria, 1892–1906 (Ann Arbor, 1952), 185–6; Malozemoff, Russian Far Eastern Policy, 133–6.

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return to the capital. But the restoration of the status quo ante also meant the return to power of Li Hung-chang, who was particularly objectionable to the other Powers given his known pro-Russian leanings and rumoured acceptance of Russian bribes.⁸¹ Russia’s withdrawal forced the other Powers to respond. MacDonald argued against following her example because of the risk of further massacres of native Christians. There was also the danger that peace negotiations would be hampered by a general withdrawal from the capital, for under such circumstances the court would not return.⁸² The Germans had received an early warning of Lamsdorff ’s plans, and no Power was more affected by them than Germany. Russia’s turn-around quashed recent hopes for Russo-German cooperation, and also threatened acute international embarrassment for the Kaiser personally. His celebrated Weltmarschall would now arrive in China, but have no international force to command. To salvage the situation Bülow and Holstein fastened on the idea of an Anglo-German agreement with speciﬁc reference to the Yangtze region. In accordance with their plans, the Kaiser used a long-arranged meeting with the Prince of Wales and Lascelles informally to propose such an understanding.⁸³ Wilhelm was clearly under the impression that he had come ‘to an understanding at Wilhelmshöhe with the Prince of Wales & Lascelles regarding . . . the policy to be followed in the Yangtze region’. But neither Lascelles nor the Prince had grasped the full import of his overture.⁸⁴ In consequence, it was not understood in London that the Kaiser had meant to propose a formal agreement on the future of the Yangtze. The Foreign Ofﬁce reacted with reserve. Years of experience with that febrile potentate had inured British policy-makers to his ‘wild schemes’. In light of the machinations prior to Waldersee’s appointment, the Emperor’s belligerent public speeches during the Boxer crisis, and the continued despatch of German troops to the crisis region, moreover, German intentions in China were viewed with some suspicion.⁸⁵ ⁸¹ Tel. MacDonald to Salisbury (nos. 116 and 130), 28 Aug. and 24 Sept. 1900, FO 17/1418; Purcell, Boxer Uprising, 255–8. ⁸² Tels. MacDonald to Salisbury (nos. 121A and 135), 7 and 29 Sept. 1900, FO 17/1418; Hardinge to Salisbury (no. 311), 27 Sept. 1900, FO 65/1601. ⁸³ Lascelles to Salisbury (no. 228), 23 [recte 22] Aug. 1900, BD ii, no. 8; tel. Lascelles to Salisbury (no. 29), 22 Aug. 1900, FO 64/1496; tel. Wilhelm to Bülow (no. 146), 22 Aug. 1900, GP xvi, no. 4617; memo.Wilhelm II, 23 Aug. 1900, ibid., no. 4618. ⁸⁴ Tel. Wilhelm to Waldersee, 25 Aug. 1900, in A. von Waldersee, Denkwürdigkeiten des GeneralFeldmarschalls Alfred Grafen von Waldersee, ed. H. O. Meissner (3 vols., Stuttgart, 1922–3) iii, 10–11; Lascelles to Salisbury (private), 1 Sept. 1900, Lascelles MSS, FO 800/17. ⁸⁵ Tel. Whitehead to Salisbury (no. 51), 27 Aug. 1900 (copy), ADM 116/118; Sanderson to Scott (private), 28 Aug. 1900, Scott MSS, Add.MSS. 52298.

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Other factors militated against an immediate reaction. The wording of the Wilhelmshöhe overture was unfortunate; it was also ill-timed. Salisbury had left Britain after the Cabinet meeting of 9 August for the Alsace spa town of Schlucht. His absence hampered the conduct of British diplomacy: ‘[Salisbury] does not conﬁde his ideas to any subordinates or his colleagues, and so we have to be constantly telegraphing to him; and not only is there a delay, but there is also a want of unity of purpose and of idea which is dispiriting and most annoying.’⁸⁶ At Hamilton’s suggestion, but with Salisbury’s concurrence, an informal Cabinet committee was set up before the Prime Minister’s departure for the continent. Equipped with ‘the power to act during the recess within certain limits’, its particular purpose was to coordinate and supervise the military campaign in northern China.⁸⁷ The committee was formed by Hamilton himself, whose Indian troops provided the bulk of the British contingent, and the two service ministers, Lansdowne and Goschen. They were joined intermittently by Chamberlain and Beach. Two issues dominated the committee’s agenda: the Russian withdrawal from Peking and the Kaiser’s interview with Lascelles. There was no doubt in the minds of the ministers that the two were interlinked. Yet, the committee’s work progressed only slowly. Its responsibilities had not been deﬁned clearly, and the ministers were reluctant to take decisions either without Salisbury’s consultation or consent.⁸⁸ The combination of Hamilton and Goschen was the axis around which the committee revolved. The India secretary deployed a range of arguments against a withdrawal to Tientsin. It was foremost a ‘question of policy’. Salisbury’s passive instructions to MacDonald were ‘simply a wet blanket on all action’. Abandoning the capital would not have produced the economies the Chancellor desired and might damage the government’s prospects in the now widely anticipated general election in the autumn. Moreover, it would allow Germany to dictate policy at Peking. In Hamilton’s view, evacuating Peking after the successful relief operation was tantamount to abdicating Britain’s claim to being the leading foreign power in China.⁸⁹ ⁸⁶ Hamilton to Curzon (private), 22 Aug. 1900, Hamilton MSS, MSS.Eur.C.126/2; also Lascelles to Barrington (private), 10 Aug. 1900, Salisbury MSS, 3M/A/121/59. ⁸⁷ Hamilton to Salisbury (private), 2 Aug. 1900, Salisbury MSS, 3M/E/Hamilton (1898–1902); T. G. Otte ‘ “A Question of Leadership”: Lord Salisbury, the Unionist Cabinet and Foreign Policy Making, 1895–1900’, CBH xiv, 4 (2000), 16. D. Steele, Lord Salisbury: A Political Biography (London, 1999), 364–6, underestimates the extent to which the discontented ministers organized their activities. ⁸⁸ Hamilton to Curzon (private), 29 Aug. 1900, Hamilton MSS, MSS.Eur.C.126/2. ⁸⁹ Hamilton to Hicks Beach (private), 20 Aug. 1900, Hicks Beach MSS, PCC/72/1; and to Salisbury (private), 31 Aug. 1900, Salisbury MSS, 3M/E/Hamilton (1898–1902). For the workings

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Preserving Britain’s regional position and checking Russia’s assumed designs to oust her were the twin leitmotifs of Hamilton’s policy. However, in his analysis, the current threat to Britain’s position in China was symptomatic of the country’s weakening international position, caused by persistent FrancoRussian enmity and exacerbated by Britain’s isolation. He favoured cooperation with Germany. In April 1900, he had conﬁded to Curzon that Germany was ‘the country with whom I should prefer to be allied; if allies are necessary, which I think they are’.⁹⁰ Russia’s withdrawal was an opportunity to separate Germany from Russia: ‘The Emperor ought to thank us if we save him from the humiliation of having his expedition made the laughing stock of civilization.’⁹¹ Goschen was of similar opinion, and urged Salisbury to respond positively to Wilhelm’s approach, at least to establish the precise nature of the Kaiser’s suggestions. The Imperial utterances to Lascelles consisted of ‘vague, but rather dangerous generalities’, but should be explored. Britain and Germany had similar interests in China. Both favoured an ‘open-door’ policy; and ‘as we certainly mean to keep an open door, we might as well say so, & I did not see how this particular step would embroil us with the French, as you believe is the object of the German Emperor’. Goschen remained cautious, and favoured a gradual rapprochement rather than an Anglo-German alliance, as Hamilton did. ⁹² Goschen’s attempt ‘to induce Salisbury to meet the German Emperor’s advances or suggestions half-way’ remained fruitless.⁹³ The Prime Minister was unyielding. Neither Wilhelm’s words, nor Goschen’s and Hamilton’s counsel impressed him. He did not hide his suspicions of the German Emperor. His initiative, Salisbury claimed, lacked substance. Britain’s China policy could not ‘clearly be founded on so slender a basis as the half-dozen words . . . from the German Emperor’. What was the Kaiser’s understanding of the ‘policy of the open door’; and what was meant by having ‘Germany on our side’? Salisbury held out, however, the prospect of some movement on the Kaiser’s part: ‘These vague utterances may indicate the basis of future undertakings but they certainly do not furnish it.’⁹⁴ of the committee, see Hicks Beach to Salisbury (private), 2 Sept. 1900, Salisbury MSS, 3M/E/Hicks Beach (1899–1902); and Goschen to Bertie, 30 Aug. 1900, Bertie MSS, Add.MSS. 63014. ⁹⁰ Hamilton to Curzon (private), 27 Apr. 1900, Hamilton MSS, MSS.Eur.C.126/2; also to Salisbury (conﬁdential), 16 July 1900, Salisbury MSS. 3M/E/Hamilton (1898–1902). ⁹¹ Hamilton to Curzon (private), 5 Sept. 1900, ibid.; Young, British Policy, 201. ⁹² Goschen to Salisbury (private), 27 Aug. 1900, Salisbury MSS, 3M/E/Goschen (1899–1900); T. J. Spinner, George Joachim Goschen: The Transformation of a Victorian Liberal (Cambridge, 1973), 220–1. ⁹³ Goschen to Balfour (private), 1(?) Sept. 1900, Balfour MSS, Add.MSS. 49706. ⁹⁴ Salisbury to Goschen (private), 29 Aug. 1900 (copy), ibid.

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The Germans grew impatient at London’s prolonged silence. Salisbury refused to be rushed by German lobbying. He asked for the clariﬁcation of any proposals which the German government wished to make as regards China and promised them ‘most respectful consideration’.⁹⁵ Salisbury’s strictly literal interpretation of the Kaiser’s words as not constituting any kind of formal proposal was not incorrect, but to a growing number of ministers such inﬂexibility appeared unwise: ‘A non possumus in every direction. . . . we hang back, are open with nobody, and shall practically stand alone, or come in at the tail of other Powers on every occasion. . . . absolute isolation is playing the devil.’ British diplomacy was atrophied because of Salisbury’s obduracy, he warned Balfour. In the meantime the Germans were sending gunboats up the Yangtze river.⁹⁶ Ironically, the same development inﬂuenced Salisbury’s response to the German approach. Although the southern and central provinces of China had remained tranquil throughout the summer of 1900, the international commercial community at Shanghai, ‘penetrated with a sense of superior knowledge and wisdom that ignores everybody and everything outside its own circumference’, became infected by the Boxer panic. Salisbury reluctantly yielded to the clamour for military protection and, on 16 August 1900, some 3,000 British troops were landed at Shanghai.⁹⁷ These events were signiﬁcant on two counts. In the ﬁrst instance, the decision to despatch a force to the Yangtze port was indicative of the absence of a proper policy coordinating mechanism in Whitehall. Sanderson thought the decision had been dictated by local circumstances: ‘I have no doubt that Germany will think it an act of Machiavellian policy. But there could not be a greater delusion. Lord Salisbury originally sanctioned it in consequence of the alarm on the spot . . . But he does not like it.’⁹⁸ Salisbury, though expecting ‘claims and reservations on the part of the other Powers’, had acted under the impression that the ‘Committee of three’ favoured the landing of troops at Shanghai, and so acquiesced in its decision. In fact no decision had been taken, and the two service ministers, ⁹⁵ Quotes from tel. Lascelles to Salisbury (no. 30), 30 Aug. 1900, BD ii, no. 9; and tel. Salisbury to Sanderson, 31 Aug. 1900, FO 83/1907. ⁹⁶ Goschen to Chamberlain (private), 2 Sept. 1900, in J. Amery, The Life of Joseph Chamberlain (4 vols., London, 1932–51) iv, 138–9; Goschen to Balfour (private), 1(?) Sept. 1900, Balfour MSS, Add.MSS. 49706. ⁹⁷ Satow to Salisbury (private), 8 Oct. 1900, ibid., 3M/A/106/34; tel. Admiralty to Seymour (no. 173), 16 Aug. 1900, FO 17/1444; also R. Bickers, Britain in China: Community, Culture and Colonialism, 1900–1949 (Manchester, 1999), 123–6. ⁹⁸ Sanderson to Lascelles (private), 15 Aug. 1900, Lascelles MSS, FO 800/6; Lansdowne to Hamilton, 16 Aug. 1900, Lansdowne MSS, Lans (5) 28.

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Goschen and Lansdowne, had evinced strong reservations about sending troops to Shanghai.⁹⁹ In terms of the changing diplomatic dynamic of the China Question, Salisbury soon had reason to regret the decision. Encouraged by Britiain’s example, the other Powers despatched gunboats and troops and, by the end of August, French, German, and Japanese marines had been disembarked there. The Shanghai consul’s ‘greediness to steal a diplomatic advantage’, Salisbury complained to Goschen, ‘has landed him in an international occupation of the Yangtze’.¹⁰⁰ The complaint was disingenuous, for Salisbury could have prevented the sending of troops. The subsequent international occupation was an embarrassing setback for him. It revealed the extent to which Britain’s position in the Yangtze had deteriorated. The appearance of German troops and vessels at Shanghai was particularly worrying, for Germany had never recognized exclusive British rights in the Yangtze basin. Salisbury’s suspicions were fuelled further by Colonel Walter Hely-Hutchinson Waters, the Military Attaché at Berlin, who had formed the impression that ‘an attempt may be made later to [sic] prejudicially affect our interests in the valley of the Yangtze-Kiang.’¹⁰¹ The events in and around Shanghai were, therefore, a key to Salisbury’s cool response to the German offer of a China agreement. Despite Salisbury’s reserve the Wilhelmstrasse did not abandon the initiative altogether. Hatzfeldt was to lobby ministers.¹⁰² The circumstances seemed favourable. Bertie had made friendly comments; and Brodrick had assured Eckardstein that with regard to the Chinese problem ‘it would give us pleasure if we found ourselves able to act with Germany’.¹⁰³ Nevertheless, Hatzfeldt’s optimistic reports underestimated Salisbury’s vis inertiae, even though a majority of ministers was critical of Salisbury’s complacent conduct of affairs. Goschen thought his coolness towards the Germans ‘worse than silence’.¹⁰⁴ The members of the China committee renewed their efforts to force upon the ⁹⁹ Tel. Salisbury to Sanderson, 17 Aug. 1900, FO 83/1907; see Goschen to Salisbury (private), 10 Aug. 1900, Salisbury MSS, 3M/E/Goschen (1899–1900). ¹⁰⁰ Salisbury to Goschen (private), 29 Aug. 1900, Balfour MSS, Add.MSS. 49706; mins. Steadman and Walpole, 30 Aug. 1900, on tel. Warren to Salisbury (no. 112), 30 Aug. 1900, L/MIL/6/41. ¹⁰¹ Memo. Waters, 3 Sept. 1900, FO 64/1494; W. H.-H. Waters, ‘Secret and Conﬁdential’: The Experiences of a Military Attaché (London, 1926), 253–5. ¹⁰² Tel. Bülow to Hatzfeldt (no. 310), 1 Sept. 1900, GP xvi, no. 4714; Schwabach to Rothschild, 1 Sept. 1900, in P. H. von Schwabach, Aus meinen Akten (Berlin, 1927), 10–11. ¹⁰³ Bertie to Lascelles (no. 184), 4 Sept. 1900, FO 244/585; Broderick to Chamberlain (private), 4 Sept. 1900, Chamberlain MSS, JC 11/8/1; see GP xvi, no. 4718, n. ***. ¹⁰⁴ Goschen to Chamberlain (private), 2 Sept. 1900, in Amery, Life of Chamberlain iv, 139; Richthofen to Wilhelm II, 4 Sept. 1900, GP xvi, no. 4717.

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recalcitrant premier a change of policy. Goschen and Hamilton were adamant that British diplomacy had to grasp the opportunity ‘to drive a wedge between Germany and Russia by taking sides with the Germans’; and Balfour had signalled his tacit approval of this line.¹⁰⁵ To overcome Salisbury’s opposition the ministers coordinated their efforts more closely. At Hamilton’s suggestion the committee met at the Admiralty on 4 September to formulate a coherent policy alternative, and renew the pressure on Salisbury. The Chancellor was absent, but Chamberlain joined the committee for the ﬁrst time, as did Brodrick. The ministers, united by their unease about the current situation, were divided about the next steps. As regarded the evacuation of Peking, Lansdowne favoured generally ‘a drawing in of our horns all over the world’.¹⁰⁶ On the German overture, he broadly concurred with his colleagues: ‘Salisbury is very provoking: he deals with the ministers & sovereigns of foreign Powers as if they were Hatﬁeld solicitors.’¹⁰⁷ As Brodrick informed Lascelles conﬁdentially, the ‘inﬂuential committee’ urged Salisbury to negotiate with the German Emperor to help him out of his difﬁculty by engaging with Japan to remain at Pekin till terms are arranged; we to receive back our Taku-Pekin railway & we get some assurances on [the] Yangtze. . . . [Salisbury], as you know, distrusts Danaos et dona ferentes. But if we strike now, it ought to make the Emperor friendly in other Chinese matters.¹⁰⁸

It fell to Goschen to inform Salisbury of the committee’s conclusions, which were supported by Balfour. The situation should be exploited ‘to detach the German Emperor from Russia & bind him more closely to our interests’. British assistance would spare him ‘humiliation after all his brave words’. In return, ‘some assurances with regard to our predominant interests in the Yangtze’ might be extracted from Berlin. An Anglo-German exchange of views was ‘most desirable’. Were the talks to produce an arrangement, Japan and possibly the United States would adhere to it. The combination of the four ministers was formidable, but failed to move the Prime Minister: ‘The idea of ¹⁰⁵ Goschen to Bertie (private), 4 Sept. 1900, Bertie MSS, FO 800/162; Balfour to Akers-Douglas (private), 30 Aug. 1900, Chilston MSS, Kent AO, C.22/18; and to Lady Elcho, 29 Aug. and 6 Sept. 1900, Balfour MSS, Add.MSS. 49835. ¹⁰⁶ Lansdowne to Hicks Beach (private), 7 Sept. 1900, Hicks Beach MSS, PCC/84; Hicks Beach to Salisbury (private), 2 Sept. 1900, Salisbury MSS, 3M/E/Hicks Beach (1899–1902). ¹⁰⁷ Lansdowne to Hamilton (private), 3 Aug. 1900, Lansdowne MSS, Lans (5) 28; memo. Lansdowne, 31 Aug. 1900, Salisbury MSS, 3M/E/Lansdowne (1900–2). ¹⁰⁸ Brodrick to Lascelles (conﬁdential), 4 Sept. 1900, Lascelles MSS, FO 800/6.

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developing this resolution into general acceptance of German policy is more dangerous and requires careful reﬂection.’ There were two fundamental questions which had to be addressed: ‘What does Germany want from us? What can she give us in return?’¹⁰⁹ Salisbury’s two questions were sensible enough. They also foreshadowed his May 1901 memorandum on the inadvisability of an Anglo-German alliance. At the root of his reluctance to enter into talks with the Germans was a ‘certain resentment’ of the German Emperor. Not surprisingly, Bertie’s offthe-cuff remark soon reached Berlin, where it was taken as conﬁrmation of long-held suspicions of Salisbury. The Wilhelmstrasse was quick to exploit Bertie’s slip. London was given to understand that the Germans considered Salisbury’s reply to the Kaiser’s offer ‘to be rather morose’, and that they attributed it to his ‘personal hostility to the Emperor’. Bertie derided the idea as ‘a myth’ and as ‘absurd’. He tried to recover some ground by arguing that the story had been got up by Berlin, that it was merely a ploy: ‘The Germans always want a good deal, and offered little or nothing in return.’¹¹⁰ Bertie’s remark had the potential to complicate future dealings with Germany, and Salisbury found himself forced to give assurances of his friendly sentiments.¹¹¹ While this episode inconvenienced Salisbury diplomatically, in his dealings with the Cabinet he still felt strong enough to resist the committee’s demand to open talks with Berlin. In this he was supported by Beach. More signiﬁcantly still, the internal balance of power within the Cabinet brieﬂy shifted to Salisbury’s advantage. On 27 August, independently of the foreign policy discussions, Lansdowne offered to resign to enable a new minister to accomplish the long-delayed War Ofﬁce reform.¹¹² Salisbury declined the offer, but Lansdowne, now beholden to the Prime Minister, was weakened. Goschen was also a spent force, having announced his decision to retire from politics at the forthcoming general election.¹¹³ ¹⁰⁹ Tel. Goschen to Salisbury (private), 4 Sept. 1900, and vice versa (private), 5 Sept. 1900, Salisbury MSS, 3M/A/89/70 and 73; Young, British Policy, 201. ¹¹⁰ Bertie to Salisbury (private), 5 Sept. 1900, Bertie MSS, Add.MSS. 63014; see K. A. Hamilton, Bertie of Thame: Edwardian Ambassador (Woodbridge, 1990), 18. ¹¹¹ Salisbury to Scott (private), 4 Sept. 1900, Scott MSS, Add.MSS. 52297; Bertie to Lascelles (private), 5 Sept. 1900, Bertie MSS, FO 800/162; Otte, ‘ “Winston of Germany” ’, 490. ¹¹² Lansdowne to Salisbury (private), 27 Aug. 1900, Salisbury MSS, 3M/E/Lansdowne (1900–1902); Hicks Beach to Salisbury (private), 2 Sept. 1900, Hicks Beach MSS, PCC/34; Lord Newton, Lord Lansdowne (London, 1929), 186. ¹¹³ Goschen to Salisbury (conﬁdential), 7 Aug. 1900, Salisbury MSS, 3M/E/Goschen (1899–1900); Spinner, Goschen, 222–3; A. D. Elliot, The Life of George Joachim Goschen, First Viscount Goschen, 1831–1907 (2 vols., London, 1911) ii, 223–4.

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For as long as Balfour did not side openly against him, Salisbury felt able to override any suggestions of a ‘new course’ in foreign policy. His promise of a debate upon his return from Alsace did not placate his anti-isolationist critics. ‘We do what is needed and get nothing for it’, Brodrick complained. He was convinced that Britain could not defend her position in China unilaterally, and concluded: ‘[W]e shall ultimately have to make some overture to Germany.’ Although he acknowledged that a Yangtze agreement with Germany was a delicate matter, he concurred with the Goschen–Hamilton committee.¹¹⁴ The committee reconvened on 7 September, but agreement on Britain’s China policy remained elusive. On the evacuation question, positions became more entrenched: Hamilton opposed it, and Beach was strongly in favour. Lansdowne, meanwhile, had changed his mind again, and now threw his weight behind the Chancellor, whereas Goschen reluctantly favoured retention. But Beach was wavering in his support for Salisbury. He remained adamantly opposed to wintering British troops in the Chinese capital. Eager to make economies wherever he could, he looked ‘with repugnance on adding to the enormous African responsibilities those which must result from a forward policy in China’. Though alert to the danger of Germany goading Britain into a forward policy, Beach warmed to the idea of an Anglo-German agreement concerning the Yangtze: ‘We cannot keep all the Yangtze part of China as a happy ground solely for ourselves.’ An arrangement with Germany, he argued, would aid British diplomacy in its efforts to prevent France and Russia from gaining a foothold in the Yangtze.¹¹⁵ Goschen developed a similar point: ‘It would be better to have conversations at Berlin than with German men-of-war on the Yangtze.’ Salisbury’s coolness, he warned, increasingly antagonized Berlin: ‘I don’t say that Germany is sincere, but if we keep the Emperor at arm’s length, we are certain to have him against us. If we are candid with him, there is at all events a chance of his working with us. I wish Lord Salisbury would approach him as to the last Russian move which cannot be agreeable to Germany.’¹¹⁶ Salisbury’s negative reply coincided with the arrival, on 8 September, of MacDonald’s report of a Russian takeover of large sections of the Northern Railways. Russian control of the railways placed the government in an ¹¹⁴ Quotes from Brodrick to Chamberlain (private), 7 Sept. 1900, Chamberlain MSS, JC 11/8/2; and to Balfour (private), 7 Sept. 1900, Balfour MSS, Add.MSS. 49720. ¹¹⁵ Hicks Beach to Salisbury (private), 2 Sept. 1900, Hicks Beach MSS, PCC/34; Goschen to Salisbury (private), 4 Sept. 1900, Salisbury MSS, 3M/E/Goschen (1899–1900); and to Bertie (private), 4 Sept. 1900 [third letter, written after the meeting], Bertie MSS, Add.MSS. 63014. ¹¹⁶ Goschen to Bertie (private), 7 Sept. 1900, Bertie MSS, FO 800/162.

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awkward position. Without international support, Britain was unlikely to regain control of the line, ‘and for that reason I wish we had been quicker in supporting Germany’.¹¹⁷ MacDonald’s report and the impasse in the committee’s deliberations now mobilized Chamberlain. So far he had viewed the events in China with relative equanimity. As so often, he kept his ﬁnger on the pulse of public opinion. At the end of August, he noted that ‘this tremendous question [viz. China] has not yet aroused any interest in the public mind’.¹¹⁸ Whether he feared public repercussions once news of the Russian takeover broke, as had happened in 1898, or whether he had wider strategic concerns, Chamberlain bestirred himself. In a lengthy memorandum of 10 September, he expounded the antiisolationists’ case, and urged Salisbury to grasp the opportunity of coming to an understanding with Germany. It was a scarcely disguised attack on Salisbury’s passive disposition ‘to allow matters to settle themselves’. In parts it was also a repetition of the 1898 ‘long spoon speech’. Britain’s principal Far Eastern interest was the maintenance of China’s integrity, and of the ‘open door’, deﬁned as ‘absolute equality of opportunity for trade throughout the whole of the Chinese Empire’. Chamberlain took as axiomatic Russian ambitions eventually to absorb the northern provinces of China. For the moment Russia ‘would prefer that all the Powers should refrain from beginning a meal in which she is not yet ready to share’. The withdrawal from Peking was an obvious diplomatic ploy to enable her to pose as China’s protector, whilst strengthening her strategic position in northern China. Though there were obvious long-term risks in this for Britain, there were also opportunities. Germany could now be detached from her eastern neighbour. German foreign policy, he argued, was ‘largely dependent on the idiosyncrasy of the Emperor’, who was ‘in a most difﬁcult position’ because of the Russian initiative: ‘We have it in our power to do him a great service, and we ought to be able in return for our assistance to obtain satisfactory assurances.’ Chamberlain was sophisticated enough to realize that talk of ‘satisfactory assurances’ was no real answer to Salisbury’s blunt question as to what Germany could deliver in return for a China agreement. He shared the premier’s pessimism about China’s political future. If Russia’s absorption of Manchuria could not be averted, Anglo-German cooperation might safeguard key British interests in the rest of China. Chamberlain sketched an outline of ¹¹⁷ Hamilton to Curzon (private), 13 Sept. 1900, Hamilton MSS, MSS.Eur.C.126/2; tel. MacDonald to Salisbury (unnumbered), 28 Aug. 1900 (received 8 Sept.), FO 17/1418. ¹¹⁸ Chamberlain to Salisbury (private), 31 Aug. 1900, Chamberlain MSS, JC 11/30/198.

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his strategy on a vast geopolitical canvas. In China and elsewhere it was in Britain’s interest ‘that Germany should throw herself across the path of Russia. An alliance between Germany and Russia, entailing as it would the cooperation of France, is the only thing we have to dread, and the clash of German and Russian interests, whether in China or Asia Minor, would be a guarantee for our safety.’ This was Chamberlain’s answer to Salisbury. Negotiations on the mutual recognition of the respective British and German spheres of inﬂuence in China should be opened immediately. This provision had also been at the core of Chamberlain’s talks with Hatzfeldt and Eckardstein in 1898. But the September memorandum was a case of new wine in an old bottle, for the ideas developed here indicated a more offensive strategic purpose: the active containment of Russia. In addition, German recognition of British predominance in the Yangtze would complement Russia’s 1899 recognition of the region as Britain’s special sphere of railway interests. As Chamberlain argued in conclusion: ‘We are not likely to take possession of any territory in the interior ourselves; but we ought to try for some understanding which will keep off all others, and make it easy to maintain the “Open Door” in at least this, the most important, portion of the Chinese Empire.’¹¹⁹ Chamberlain’s September memorandum threw into sharper relief the foreign policy divisions within the Cabinet, caused by the China Question. His memorandum spelt out in greater detail the concept of a ‘new course’. It was the Colonial Secretary’s ﬁrst major foray into foreign policy since his fruitless conversations with Bülow at Windsor in the autumn of 1899. His memorandum helped to change the frozen dynamic, but it had a wider signiﬁcance still. Its concluding paragraph is indicative of the extent to which the ‘open door’ principle had been undermined in the minds of European statesmen. What Chamberlain proposed was not ‘absolute equality of opportunity for trade’ for all comers, but rather shutting the door to the Yangtze to all but British commerce. It was, then, an attempt to apply the evolving logic of the Scott–Muravev agreement to the new realities of post-Boxer China. To an extent, it also adumbrated Chamberlain’s later imperial preference arguments. In July, Lamsdorff had suggested a broader political interpretation of that agreement. Now Chamberlain pursued the same objective, with the added advantage of German agreement to a de facto division of China into spheres of inﬂuence. Both these attempts are also ¹¹⁹ Memo. Chamberlain, ‘The Chinese Problem’, 10 Sept. 1900, Chamberlain MSS, JC 14/4/1/1 (also in CAB 37/53/56); Marsh, Chamberlain, 495–6.

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suggestive of the heightened anticipation of China’s eventual collapse amongst the foreign policy elites of the Powers. The recognition of separate spheres was a halfway house on the way to partition, without incurring the responsibility for having initiated China’s downfall. As regarded Germany, however, Chamberlain’s argument was fundamentally ﬂawed. It was, in fact, the exact mirror image of Bülow’s Weltmachtpolitik which aimed at perpetuating the Anglo-Russian antagonism so as to enhance Germany’s international position. Chamberlain, by contrast, hoped to use Germany as Britain’s cat’s paw in the defence of her Asiatic imperial interests. Whether Berlin would be so obliging and risk burning its ﬁngers for the sake of Chamberlain’s Chinese chestnuts, was the question which the Colonial Secretary had avoided posing. Chamberlain’s intervention broke the impasse; the momentum in favour of talks with Germany had now become irresistible. Salisbury returned from the continent on 12 September, and immediately met with the Goschen–Hamilton Committee, augmented by Balfour, at the Foreign Ofﬁce. In Beach’s absence, he was without any support. No longer able to resist their demands, the antiisolationist group of ministers forced him to open negotiations with Hatzfeldt. Lascelles also supported the notion of a China agreement. Bülow, he informed Bertie, was anxious to come to an arrangement, ‘and this ought to put us in a favourable position in any negotiations which Hatzfeldt may introduce’.¹²⁰ Bertie fought a vigorous rearguard action. An interview with Hatzfeldt on 9 September rekindled his suspicions of German policy. Berlin would attempt to ‘exact . . . [a] high price for any recognition by them of [the] British Yangtze sphere of inﬂuence’.¹²¹ In a detailed memorandum on the situation in China, he offered a point-by-point rebuttal of Chamberlain’s grand geostrategic design. He disputed the Colonial Secretary’s assumption that British diplomacy could drive a wedge between Germany and Russia. Some modus vivendi with Berlin might be possible, given Germany’s eagerness ‘to tide over the present crisis’, but the core of Chamberlain’s proposals was impracticable. Berlin was unlikely to agree to a mutual recognition of spheres of inﬂuence. This was not an unreasonable assumption. Balfour after all had already signalled Britain’s recognition of Germany’s ‘special position’ in Shantung in April 1898. Berlin, then, had little to gain from an agreement that merely conﬁrmed this. Moreover, Bertie suspected that German ambitions stretched well beyond Shantung into ¹²⁰ Lascelles to Bertie (private), 15 Sept. 1900, Lascelles MSS, FO 800/17; Akers-Douglas diary, 12 Sept. 1900, Chilston MSS, F.28. ¹²¹ Tel. Bertie to Lascelles (unnumbered), 11 Sept. 1900, FO 244/585; tel. Richthofen to Bülow (no. 318), 12 Sept. 1900, GP xvi, no. 4719.

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the Hwang-ho valley. Germany might recognize British special rights south of the Yangtze, but this would come at the price of an equal division of commercial concessions between the north bank of the Yangtze and the Hwang-ho. It was not in Germany’s interest to act as a barrier against further Russian expansion in China. Indeed, if Germany were ever to control ‘a sufﬁciently large tract of territory’ between Peking and the Yangtze, ‘and if Peking remain then the real capital of China, Russia and Germany will in combination control the Chinese Government to our detriment’. Any arrangement with Germany, Bertie predicted, would result in ‘continual friction with Germany in regard to concessions North of the Yangtsze and to the South of the River we should have to ﬁght it out with the French who have never recognized our Yangtsze claims’.¹²² Bertie’s attempt to abort the talks failed, and negotiations commenced two days after Salisbury’s return to London. At this ﬁrst meeting Salisbury and Hatzfeldt agreed that British and German troops would winter in Peking. In the course of their discussions on 14 and 18 September three general principles evolved, upon which an agreement was to be based: (1) the maintenance of the ‘open door’; (2) the renunciation by both parties of further territorial acquisitions in China; and (3) their joint opposition to attempts by other Powers to obtain Chinese territory.¹²³ The ﬁrst two points had been suggested by Hatzfeldt. Neither would be objectionable to Russia, in particular if the practical application of the ﬁrst were limited to the Yangtze region alone.¹²⁴ The ambassador had well understood Bülow’s main aim of exacerbating AngloRussian relations without implicating Germany. He knew also that Holstein was toying with the idea of exploiting the Russian occupation of Newchwang, an important railway junction in southern Manchuria, for that purpose. Holstein envisaged a ‘second Fashoda’. French support for Russia in Asia was unlikely to be forthcoming, and an isolated Russia was bound to yield with the result that ‘the Russo-English animosity would be greater than ever’.¹²⁵ At Hatzfeldt’s request, the Wilhelmstrasse prepared a draft agreement, which embodied the three agreed principles, but which added a further clause. In the event of further territorial acquisitions by a third Power, London and ¹²² Quotes from memo. Bertie, 13 Sept. 1900, BD ii, no. 12; and Bertie to Lascelles (private), 12 Sept. 1900, Lascelles MSS, FO 800/6. ¹²³ Salisbury to Lascelles (no. 205), 25 Sept. 1900, BD ii, no. 14; tel. Hatzfeldt to Auswärtiges Amt (no. 590), 14 Sept. 1900, GP xvi, no. 4720. ¹²⁴ Tel. Hatzfeldt to Holstein (privat), 1 Sept. 1900, GP xvi, no. 4716. ¹²⁵ Holstein to Hatzfeldt, 23 Aug. 1900, HatzP ii, no. 827. Holstein regarded the Anglo-Russian antagonism as irremovable, see Trotha, Holstein, 211–12.

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Berlin were to coordinate their efforts to obtain compensation. This, Bülow’s deputy Oswald von Richthofen argued was an ‘indispensable safety valve’.¹²⁶ Although the principle of compensation was one of the cornerstones of Great Power politics, the proposed insertion of the new article cast doubt on Berlin’s commitment to China’s integrity. The German draft conﬁrmed Bertie’s forebodings about Berlin’s negotiating tactics. For the British, the main obstacle was not so much the additional compensation clause; more problematic was the German interpretation of the open trade principle. As ﬁrst suggested by Hatzfeldt in early September, Article I of the German draft pledged both parties to maintain open access to trade and other commercial activities on the Yangtze River, its tributaries, and in its basin only. It was an obvious attempt by Germany to extend her commercial reach to the Yangtze area, without making a reciprocal arrangement regarding Shantung. Salisbury rejected such geographical limitation: conﬁning the principle of free trade to one particular part of China meant abandoning it in the rest of the country. Instead, the ‘open-door’ principle should be applied to all Chinese riverine and maritime ports.¹²⁷ This was a deliberate tactical ploy. Salisbury was conﬁdent that British enterprise in the Yangtze could fend for itself, but not if it were excluded from other parts of China. The best means of maintaining Britain’s informal hold on the Yangtze basin, then, seemed to lie in extending the ‘open door’ principle to all of China. By insisting on this, Salisbury raised the stakes considerably. Unhindered commerce throughout China could not be welcome to Berlin, since it implicitly undermined Germany’s ‘special position’ in Shantung. Salisbury was negotiating from a position of strength, however. He assured Hatzfeldt that he would not introduce any further demands for revision into the talks, provided Berlin agreed to his amendment of Article I. The talks had reached the critical psychological moment. If Berlin wanted the agreement, it could only be had on Salisbury’s terms. Indeed, as if to underline his strong position, the Prime Minister left London. It was for Berlin to move. The Wilhelmstrasse’s evident desire for a speedy conclusion of the talks increased Salisbury’s leverage. Sanderson further ratcheted up the pressure by intimating to Hatzfeldt that the proposed extension of Article I was a sine qua non.¹²⁸ ¹²⁶ Tel. Richthofen to Hatzfeldt (no. 346), 22 Sept. 1900, GP xvi, no. 4721. ¹²⁷ Salisbury to Lascelles (no. 205), 25 Sept. 1900, BD ii, no. 14; tel. Hatzfeldt to Auswärtiges Amt (no. 608), 25 Sept. 1900, GP xvi, no. 4722. ¹²⁸ Sanderson to Lascelles (private), 3 Oct. 1900, Lascelles MSS, FO 800/6; tel. Hatzfeldt to Auswärtiges Amt (no. 614), 28 Sept. 1900, GP xvi, no. 4724.

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Salisbury’s upping of the stakes placed the Germans in a predicament. They had rushed into the negotiations hoping for a speedy conclusion on their terms, without making provisions for possible counter-proposals.¹²⁹ Hatzfeldt now attempted to dilute Salisbury’s amendment at their next interview on 2 October. Wishing to remain on good terms with Russia, Germany could not accept the extension of Article I to all of China’s rivers and littoral, as this would include Port Arthur and the ports on the Amur River. So far Salisbury had been in a strong negotiating position, but he was reluctant to push the talks to the brink. He was agnostic at best about the value of any agreement with Germany; but German support might still be useful if relations with the Franco-Russian combination deteriorated further. Balfour’s warning of April 1898, not to offend the German Emperor lest he be driven into the Russian camp, moreover had made an impression on Salisbury. His reluctance to exploit his leverage over the Germans now led Salisbury into making an egregious mistake. He squandered his advantage through poor knowledge of geography, and agreed to a compromise formula, whereby both parties conﬁrmed their adherence to the principle of commercial freedom throughout ‘all Chinese territory to the south of the 38th parallel of N[orthern] Latitude’.¹³⁰ Bülow immediately approved. Salisbury ‘had drawn a line across the map of China to the South of Manchuria’. This could not be objectionable to Russia, and so was acceptable to Germany.¹³¹ Senior Foreign Ofﬁce clerks were appalled by Salisbury’s cartographical blunder. Sanderson, who had not been present at the meeting with Hatzfeldt, observed that he had, in fact, drawn a line some 120 miles south of Peking. The whole of northern China was thus excluded from the agreement. Lascelles also alerted him to the full import of his cartographic exercise: ‘I venture to hope that the line you had drawn will include Shantung as it appears to me that we shall get the worst of the bargain if the Germans can keep us out of that province and claim equality of rights in other parts of China.’¹³² ¹²⁹ For the internal debates at Berlin, see tel. Richthofen to Hatzfeldt (privat), 28 Sept. 1900, GP xvi, no. 4725; Holstein to Hatzfeldt, 30 Sept. 1900, HatzP ii, no. 829; also Rich, Holstein ii, 623–4. ¹³⁰ Draft agreement, with amendments by Sanderson, n.d. [2–6 Oct. 1900], FO 17/1448; tels. Hatzfeldt to Auswärtiges Amt (nos. 623 and 641), 2 and 9 Oct. 1900, GP xvi, nos. 4728 and 4737. Young, British Policy, 205, states that Hatzfeldt suggested the formula, but offers no evidence. Hatzfeldt reported that Salisbury volunteered it. Since the insertion of the 38th parallel was extremely advantageous to Germany, this should have been an incentive for Hatzfeldt to claim authorship. ¹³¹ Lascelles to Salisbury (private), 5 Oct. 1900, Salisbury MSS, 3M/A/121/61; tel. Bülow to Hatzfeldt (no. 362), 3 Oct. 1900, GP xvi, no. 4729. ¹³² Lascelles to Salisbury (private), 5 Oct. 1900, Salisbury MSS, 3M/A/121/61; memo. Sanderson, 4 Oct. 1900, FO 64/1507.

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The Prime Minister had ignored his own famous advice about the use of large-scale maps in diplomatic negotiations. The compromise of 2 October and Bülow’s subsequent insistence on further revisions to Article II created a hiatus in the negotiations. Salisbury reluctantly agreed further to dilute the two Powers’ commitment to China’s territorial integrity. Instead of providing for consultation about joint measures to oppose foreign encroachments upon China, the revised Article II now merely pledged them to ‘direct their policies towards maintaining undiminished the territorial condition of the Chinese Empire’.¹³³ This latest alteration, Salisbury complained to Hatzfeldt, deprived the agreement of much of its force; and yet he agreed to it. His counterproposal of inserting a fourth article, safeguarding the two parties’ existing treaty rights in China, was little more than a half-hearted rearguard action. Indeed, Salisbury had become sceptical of other aspects of the draft agreement. Around 5 October, he considered excising the compensation clause. Sanderson encouraged him in this. The clause weakened the force of the commitment of the two parties to the maintenance of China’s integrity. It was, he commented, ‘what the French call “d’un effroyable cynisme”. Besides which it is not very convenient.’¹³⁴ This was certainly true, for it entailed further, no doubt protracted, negotiations. Salisbury grew weary of the idea of an agreement with Germany. He had repeatedly accommodated German demands, he observed; but since the latest revisions ‘to make it agreeable to Russia I am not very much in love with this agreement. It is liable to so much misunderstanding.’ Salisbury may well have toyed with the idea of aborting the talks altogether. Given the potential for misunderstandings, he doubted the need for an agreement. Still, he felt bound by the Cabinet committee meeting of 12 September, and resignedly accepted that he was no longer a free agent. Negotiating the agreement ‘seemed a consistent part of the policy of pleasing Germany to which so many of our friends are attached’.¹³⁵ The open display of pessimism also served a tactical purpose, for negotiations continued on 9 October. Salisbury’s main objective in this round of the talks was the removal of the 38th parallel from the compromise formula. Limiting the projected agreement to the area to the south of that line, he ¹³³ Hatzfeldt to Salisbury (private), 4 Oct. 1900, FO 64/1506; draft agreement by Sanderson, n.d. [4 Oct. 1900], FO 17/1448. ¹³⁴ Min. Sanderson, 6 Oct. 1900, on draft agreement with Salisbury’s amendments, FO 17/1448; Salisbury to Hatzfeldt (private), 4 Oct. 1900, Lascelles MSS, FO 800/6. ¹³⁵ Quotes from Salisbury to Hatzfeldt (private), 6 Oct. 1900, Lascelles MSS, FO 800/6; and to Brodrick (private), 8 Oct. 1900, Midleton MSS, PRO 30/67/5.

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explained to Hatzfeldt, would expose his government to strong public criticism, since it would be interpreted as granting Russia a free hand in northern China. By implication, strong public criticism would reduce the political value of the agreement for Germany. Hatzfeldt eventually agreed to a new compromise, whereby both sides were now committed to uphold the ‘open-door’ principle in those parts over which they exercised inﬂuence. The objectionable reference to the 38th parallel had thus been removed. Salisbury had only partially redeemed his error, for the revised Article I was vague enough to allow for different interpretations, and it was bought with a further British concession: Salisbury ﬁnally had to abandon his opposition to the diluted commitment to maintaining Chinese integrity under Article II. He also had to abandon his plan to omit the compensation clause under Article III. Bülow had given Hatzfeldt a free hand to drop the article in order to secure the conclusion of the agreement.¹³⁶ It was testimony to Hatzfeldt’s negotiating skills that he succeeded in keeping the article in the agreement. But it also reﬂected the enormity of Salisbury’s earlier geographical slip of the pen. A further discussion took place on 13 October to settle the ﬁnal draft and three days later the agreement was formalized in an exchange of notes. Four weeks of protracted negotiations had produced an anodyne and vague convention: ‘The mountains have brought forth at last, and . . . the progeny seems harmless enough’, Sanderson concluded.¹³⁷ This was overly optimistic. The Anglo-German agreement of 16 October 1900 was little more than a statement of commonplace principles. Indeed, it hardly bound the two parties to adhere to these principles. It was a ‘scrap of paper’ whose political value depended on the good will of both governments. But Salisbury had little conﬁdence in Berlin’s good will. Unlike the anti-isolationist frondeurs, he thought that a combination with Germany would be useless as a means to contain Russia in China: ‘[Germany] is in mortal danger on account of that long frontier of hers on the Russian side. She will therefore never stand by us against Russia; but is always rather inclined to curry favour with Russia by throwing us over. I have no wish to quarrel with her; but my faith is inﬁnitesimal.’¹³⁸ ¹³⁶ Tels. Hatzfeldt to Bülow (no. 641 and 642), 9 and 10 Oct. 1900, and vice versa (no. 378), 12 Oct. 1900, GP xvi, nos. 4737–9. ¹³⁷ Sanderson to Lascelles (private), 17 Oct. 1900, Lascelles MSS, FO 800/6. For the text of the agreement see BD ii, no. 17, and GP xvi, no. 4744. ¹³⁸ Salisbury to Curzon (private), 17 Oct. 1900, Curzon MSS, MSS.Eur.F.111/159; Monger, End of Isolation, 17.

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If Salisbury doubted the practical use of the agreement, it had some redeeming qualities. Though lacking in precision and force, it still gave the British government some control over German proceedings in China. The international occupation of Shanghai was crucial to Salisbury’s rationale in negotiating with Hatzfeldt. Intelligence warnings that Berlin wished to send gunboats up the Yangtze underlined this danger of Germany gaining a foothold there.¹³⁹ Throughout the Boxer crisis, Salisbury’s policy followed the maxim of averting the disruption of China and of minimizing armed foreign interference. The agreement of 16 October provided some means of curbing Germany’s suspected designs on the Yangtze. But, as the ‘open-door’ principle extended to most of China, Britain was in a position to claim reciprocal rights in Shantung. Among Britain’s representatives abroad, the China agreement was given a cautious welcome. Lord Currie, the ambassador at Rome, predicted that ‘[i]t will have an excellent effect abroad and relieve us of serious anxiety for the future’. The minister at Bucharest, John Gordon Kennedy, came to a similar conclusion: ‘It seems that the Germans will proﬁt commercially & that we proﬁt politically & in military ways in China.’ Moreover, he expected that the agreement would lead to some general understanding between Britain and the Triple Alliance.¹⁴⁰ In this, Kennedy went further than most other diplomats. Yet, Currie, too, was preoccupied with the dangers implicit in Britain’s international isolation: To my mind the great value of the agreement is the effect it has produced at Paris. France is only really dangerous when she thinks that in addition to the support of Russia, she can count on the friendly neutrality or connivance of Germany. . . . I think that the history of the last few years has shown that isolation is not without danger. It would seem worthwhile to make some sacriﬁces to get out of it.¹⁴¹

The fact that Currie voiced such concerns about Britain’s isolation was suggestive of the extent to which the old foreign policy consensus had disintegrated, for Currie had been one of Salisbury’s most trusted clerks at the Foreign Ofﬁce in the 1880s and early 1890s. Among the anti-isolationists in the Cabinet only Chamberlain welcomed the agreement: ‘& I think that events are slowly tending to draw us closer together & to separate Germany from Russia’. Others were less optimistic. The ¹³⁹ Memo. Ardagh, ‘China’, 30 Sept. 1900, Ardagh MSS, PRO 30/40/22/1. ¹⁴⁰ Quotes from tel. Currie to Salisbury (private), 21 Oct. 1900, Salisbury MSS, 3M/A/125/54; and Kennedy to Lascelles, 7 Nov. 1900, Lascelles MSS, FO 800/6. ¹⁴¹ Currie to Salisbury (private), 24 Oct. 1900, Salisbury MSS, 3M/A/125/55.

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agreement, Hamilton noted, merely contained ‘some archaic self-denying ordinances’, though he was hopeful that ‘it must tend to bring Germany and ourselves together’.¹⁴² This sentiment became the dominant view of most ministers. Under the impact of the dual Boxer–Boers crisis the old foreign policy consensus had ﬁnally broken down. The balance was tilting in favour of change. Salisbury was no longer in full control of his ministers. A cabinet reshufﬂe was now deemed necessary, and his replacement was freely discussed by younger members of the government. By mid-October, Balfour, the Unionist Chief Whip, Aretas Akers-Douglas, and Jack Sandars, Balfour’s inﬂuential private secretary, forced Salisbury to relinquish the seals of the Foreign Ofﬁce. Ultimately, after ‘a difﬁcult & unpleasant discussion’ with Akers-Douglas, Salisbury agreed to stand down as Foreign Secretary, though he retained the premiership.¹⁴³ Lansdowne’s appointment as his successor further consolidated the dominance of the anti-isolationists. With Salisbury’s somewhat undigniﬁed departure from the Foreign Ofﬁce, the transition in British policy had reached a crucial juncture. Under the impact of the events of 1900, the old foreign policy consensus had ﬁnally collapsed. In terms of policy in China, the Boxer crisis presented Britain with a double challenge: further unrest had to be contained, but also the ambitions of the Powers, more especially those of Russia. The summer of 1900 also demonstrated how ill-equipped Britain was to control, either through diplomatic or military means, events in China. Salisbury’s concentration on the Yangtze area was no doubt sensible. But it was above all further conﬁrmation of the contraction of British inﬂuence in China already noticeable in 1899. In wider strategic terms, the double Boer–Boxer crisis underlined the limitations of British power. While there was never any real doubt that the situation in South Africa would be got under control eventually, the vast Chinese Empire was a different proposition. Britain’s inability to deal with two simultaneous crises in the geostrategic periphery ampliﬁed internal dissatisfaction with Salisbury’s leadership. The China Question toppled Salisbury, and induced a wider instability in the relations among all the Powers. This instability revitalized the Russian threat ¹⁴² Quotes from Chamberlain to Balfour (private), 21 Oct. 1900, Whittinghame Muniment MSS, GD 433/2/39; and Hamilton to Curzon (private), 24 Oct. 1900, Hamilton MSS, MSS.Eur.C.126/2. ¹⁴³ Memo. Sandars, n.d. [before 8 Oct.] and 20 Oct. 1900, Sandars MSS, MS.Eng.hist.c.732; Min. Akers-Douglas, n.d. [21 or 22 Oct. 1900], Chilston MSS, C.21/3; see Otte, ‘Question of Leadership’, 18–20.

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in East Asia. At the same time, renewed instability offered new opportunities. A combination with Germany was seen by Salisbury’s anti-isolationist critics as a possible solution to Britain’s mounting international difﬁculties. Salisbury, for his part, was sceptical about the practical utility of any arrangement with Berlin as a means of dealing with the problems of isolation. The German attempts in October 1900 to dilute the terms of the China agreement, especially in so far as common action against Russia was concerned, while simultaneously trying to prise open the Yangtze basin to German inﬂuence, bore out the Prime Minister’s doubts. Salisbury nevertheless concluded that talks owed as much to the anti-isolationist groundswell within his government as to diplomatic calculations. The Anglo-German China agreement might have been of only limited use, but it did not involve any sacriﬁces of core British interests. It was cheaply bought, and preferable to snubbing the Germans, who might otherwise have turned to Russia in an attempt to revive the triplice combination of 1895. Lamsdorff ’s attempts to endow the 1899 Scott–Muravev agreement with a new, political meaning and the Russian withdrawal from Peking suggested that an arrangement with Russia had become all but impossible. Tokyo’s reluctance, on the other hand, to accept an international mandate and the ﬁnancial inducement offered by Salisbury made the Japanese option unattractive. Despite Salisbury’s misgivings this seemed to leave only Germany; but the Anglo-German October agreement still had to prove its practical value.

5 ‘Cross-currents’: The International Politics of Post-Boxer China, 1900–1 The apparent implosion of all central authority in China led to a renewed Russian expansionist drive in the northernmost provinces of the Chinese Empire. The resulting Manchurian crisis marked the nadir of Anglo-Russian relations. Its signiﬁcance has been largely ignored in the scholarly literature, even though its impact was not conﬁned to the East Asian region. This Far Eastern ‘War-in-Sight’ crisis further demonstrated the explosive potential of the China Question in Great Power relations. Its peaceful outcome was not predetermined. That conﬂict was averted owed much to Lansdowne’s brinkmanship. Above all, Lansdowne’s crisis diplomacy brought into sharper focus the nature of Britain’s relations with Germany and Japan, and so highlighted the ongoing problems of isolation, now much intensiﬁed by the China Question. Lord Lansdowne’s appointment as Foreign Secretary in November 1900 indicated the extent to which the balance of inﬂuence within the government had changed in favour of Salisbury’s critics. The elevation to Cabinet rank of a younger generation of ministers, who advocated the abandonment of Salisbury’s ‘old diplomacy’ in favour of a more active imperial and foreign policy, promised to ‘make the whole difference in the Cabinet’.¹ The new arrangement left Salisbury Prime Minister, but his inﬂuence on the day-to-day conduct of foreign policy was now eroded, though not completely eliminated. It was a humiliating exit. Like a mendicant, Salisbury had to ask for rooms in the Foreign Ofﬁce building since he had never made No. 10 Downing Street his ofﬁcial residence, and so had ‘no “ofﬁce”, no place to lay his red boxes’. ¹ Brodrick to Selborne (conﬁdential), 28 Oct. 1900, Selborne MSS 2; also Curzon to Brodrick (private), 9 Nov. 1900, Midleton MSS, Add.MSS. 50075; Balfour to Goschen (private), [25 Dec. 1900], Goschen MSS, MS.Eng.hist.c.386.

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His eventual ‘installation’ at the Foreign Ofﬁce was almost symbolic of the new arrangement. Though the minutiae of international diplomacy no longer fell within his remit, his presence loomed in the background. His standing was still such that he could claim, and was granted, inﬂuence on major foreign policy decisions.² Salisbury’s ‘masterly inactivity’ had previously stiﬂed internal debate about foreign policy; Lansdowne’s move to Downing Street gave a fresh impetus to it. As one of the sponsors of the Anglo-German China agreement, the new Foreign Secretary hoped to strengthen ties with Germany. On taking ofﬁce, he confessed to entertaining one ‘preconceived idea’ only: ‘that we should use every effort to maintain, and if we can to strengthen the good relations which at present exist between the Queen’s Government and that of the Emperor’. The circumstances seemed favourable. The German government had repeatedly expressed its wish to improve relations between the two countries, and the China agreement of 16 October seemed a ﬁrst step forward in that direction.³ The Kaiser had expressed his ‘great satisfaction’ at the conclusion of the agreement. It would, the Emperor opined, have a wholesome effect on the Far Eastern situation generally, and ‘speedily lead to a settlement of the difﬁculties in China’. British diplomats were well-accustomed to such effusions, but there were grounds for according greater signiﬁcance to them now. Russia ‘was constantly annexing bits of China, and it was necessary to convince her that her actions in this respect must cease’. This seemed to signal Berlin’s readiness to join in efforts to contain Russian expansionism in China. Crucially, Wilhelm concurred with Lascelles’s observation that the October agreement was more important for the Far East than for Europe.⁴ This chimed in with the desire, frequently expressed by both Lansdowne and Bülow, for a gradual strengthening of Anglo-German ties through regional cooperation. In conjunction, the two statements suggested that the German government was anxious to build upon the October agreement. Lascelles encouraged his new chief to pursue his ‘ “preconceived” idea . . . to maintain and strengthen the good relations that now exist between England and Germany. I have always been an optimist with regard to this question as I am convinced that the real interests of both countries require a good understanding ² Quote from Esher journal, 9 Nov. 1900, EJL i, 267–8; see also Macdonnell to Akers-Douglas (private), 5 Nov. 1900, Chilston MSS, C.24; Lansdowne to Akers-Douglas (private), 7 Nov. 1900, ibid., C.325/6. ³ Lansdowne to Lascelles (private), 11 Nov. 1900, Lascelles MSS, FO 800/17; Lansdowne to Balfour, 9 Nov. 1900, Whittinghame Muniment MSS, GD 433/2/39; Lord Newton, Lord Lansdowne (London, 1929), 196–7. ⁴ Lascelles to Salisbury (no. 274), 31 Oct. 1900, FO 64/1495.

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between their Governments and I believe that the Governments will be guided by interests rather than by sentiment.’ Five years at Berlin had inured him against any illusions about German diplomacy. Britain ought not to make concessions without receiving ‘completely adequate consideration. The Germans will always try to get the better of us in a bargain, but will come to terms if they see we intend to hold our own.’ In Lascelles’s estimate, Britain had some leverage over Berlin. Germany’s international position in the aftermath of the Boxer trouble was precarious, and Bülow and Richthofen were both in favour of a ‘good understanding’ with Britain.⁵ As in Russia and Britain, there had also been a change in the leadership personnel in Germany, when Hohenlohe resigned as Chancellor on 17 October, to be succeeded by Bülow. In Lascelles’s opinion, the reshufﬂe of the Wilhelmstrasse pack did not herald a fundamental shift in German policy; and, for the moment, the ambassador was optimistic: ‘[t]hey now seem to be behaving properly with regard to the railways in China, and I imagine that Waldersee must have found himself in a very difﬁcult position once he realized that the Russians did not intend to obey his orders.’⁶ This was one of Britain’s immediate problems in the relations with both Russia and Germany in the Far East. Senior Foreign Ofﬁce clerks were considerably less optimistic than Lascelles and Lansdowne. Shortly before the conclusion of the Salisbury–Hatzfeldt agreement Sanderson summarized the predominant concerns in Whitehall: We do not know What the Chinese Court is at What Waldersee is after What the Russians mean to do[.] The only thing that is established beyond doubt & contradiction is that everybody is grabbing our railways.⁷

Railways were the most pressing issue on the new Foreign Secretary’s agenda. China’s internal situation remained unsettled, and Russian proceedings in the North gave fresh cause for alarm. Both problems were entwined. The ability of British diplomacy to tackle them was complicated by a further problem. Over the summer the anti-isolationist frondeurs had clamoured for some form ⁵ Lascelles to Lansdowne (private), 17 Nov. 1900, Lansdowne MSS, FO 800/128. ⁶ Ibid; see Lascelles to Salisbury (nos. 261 and 263), 19 Oct. 1900, FO 64/1494. ⁷ Sanderson to Satow (private), 12 Oct. 1900, Satow MSS, PRO 30/33/7/1; B. M. Allen, The Rt. Hon. Sir Ernest Satow, GCMG: A Memoir (London, 1933), 122.

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of agreement with Germany, based on the assumption that British power was no longer sufﬁcient unilaterally to defend the country’s overseas interests; hence the acceptance of Waldersee and the conclusion of the October agreement. Lansdowne now discovered that his ability to safeguard Britain’s interests was circumscribed by the very nature of Waldersee’s position of commander-in-chief. Salisbury had bequeathed a difﬁcult Chinese legacy to his successor. The political situation in northern China was highly unstable. Following the relief of Peking on 14 August, the Imperial court had ﬂed the capital early the following morning, and Chinese government troops and the remnants of Boxer bands around Peking melted away, leaving behind a political vacuum. The capital and its surroundings were without functioning authority capable of imposing some order on the ensuing chaos. The situation was aggravated by a severe food shortage in Chili, which caused additional unrest. The vacuum was only partially ﬁlled by the Allied expeditionary force. Control of the metropolitan province rested with the allied commanders. Yet, their efforts were aimed not only at controlling the Chinese population, but perhaps even more so each other. Pending Waldersee’s arrival, there was little unity of action amongst the allies. The capital itself was divided into sectors, ostensibly for policing purposes, in reality to contain rivalries between the different contingents.⁸ At Tientsin, the Allied generals had set up an international ‘Provisional Government Council’ as the de facto ruler of that region, while at Taku, the ‘Council of the Admirals’ remained in place.⁹ In light of the current uncertainties in China, Bertie was pessimistic about the country’s future. He impressed upon Satow the need to refrain from any ‘interference in the internal affairs of China’. If the country descended into civil war, Britain should ‘let them ﬁght it out amongst themselves, till a strong man comes out on the top’. He had forebodings of a protracted civil war: ‘I believe that there must be a considerable amount of ﬁghting amongst the various factions in China before we can see which of them will be boss and until such time the Powers would do wisely not to interfere except to protect Treaty Ports and European lives and property near enough to the coasts or rivers to easily [sic] be defended.’¹⁰ ⁸ Tel. Gaselee to Hamilton (no. 40), 29 Aug. 1900, L/MIL/7/16666; M. H. Hunt, ‘The Forgotten Occupation: Peking, 1900–1901’, PHR xlviii, 4 (1979), 501–29. ⁹ Seymour to MacGregor (no. 497), 8 Aug. 1900, ADM 125/109; Réglements Généraux d’Administration de la Cité Chinoise de Tientsin (Tientsin, Dec. 1900) (copy in RG 395/920). ¹⁰ Quotes from Satow diary, 20 Aug. 1900, Satow MSS, PRO 30/33/16/3; Min. Bertie, 20 Aug. 1900, FO 17/1444.

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Fears of an impending civil war were soon superseded by the proceedings of Russian troops in northern China, which seemed to presage the absorption of Manchuria. Already in early July, after the relief of the Tientsin foreign settlement, Russian troops had seized the Tangku–Tientsin section of the British-built and -run Imperial Chinese Northern Railways (CNR). In due course, the section from Tangku to Shanhaikwan was also occupied ‘by right of conquest’ by ‘Mathilda’s guards’, nicknamed after Witte’s wife, and the rolling stock was transported beyond the Great Wall to Manchuria. As the line was mortgaged to British bondholders, the British government was forced to react to these developments. The smoothness with which the Russian expeditionary force had occupied a key strategic portion of the CNR seemed suggestive of deliberate and premeditated action; in particular as the Peking terminus of the line was also occupied immediately after the relief of the capital.¹¹ The Russian troops under General Nikolai Pyotrovich Linevich ﬁlled a vacuum caused by the weak military presence of the other Powers. When the ﬁrst news of the Russian occupation reached London, the Director of Military Intelligence advised Salisbury to acquiesce. General Sir John Ardagh feared that recent events had fused together again the triplice combination. Instead of resisting Russia in the north, Britain should concentrate on obtaining ‘a free hand at Shanghai and the Yangtze, where our interests are far greater . . . The force of circumstances may necessitate our occupation of Shanghai . . . and if we again have to do so, we ought to stay there, and plant a ﬁrm foot on the Yangtze.’¹² Throughout the summer of 1900, the DMI advocated a ‘policy of mandates’. This was to allow the Powers to take exclusive unilateral action in clearly deﬁned spheres. Ardagh had in mind regional Russian and Japanese mandates in Manchuria and Korea respectively, whereas Britain was to concentrate on the core provinces centred upon the Yangtze.¹³ Neither idea found favour with Salisbury. The Boxer crisis had unravelled the logic of the attempts of 1899 to delimit spheres of inﬂuence. Now there was the danger of re-igniting the scramble for concessions and territory. Nevertheless, Ardagh’s proposals were indicative of a divergence of opinion in Whitehall. ¹¹ Tel. MacDonald to Salisbury (no. 116), 28 Aug. 1900, FO 17/1418; memo. Mallet and Bertie, ‘Questions with Russia with regard to the Northern Railways of China’, both 12 Feb. 1901, FO 17/1500; see Lord Hardinge of Penshurst, Old Diplomacy (London, 1948), 75. ¹² Memo. Ardagh, ‘The Taku–Tientsin Railway’, 16 July 1900, FO 17/1442; S. Countess of Malmesbury, The Life of Major-General Sir John Ardagh (London, 1909), 282–3. ¹³ Memo. Ardagh, ‘Position in China’, 15 Aug. 1900, Ardagh MSS, PRO 30/40/22/1; and memo. Ardagh, 15 Sept. 1900, WO 32/6146.

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Salisbury was anxious to avoid a clash between the Powers in China, and instructed Scott to protest in mild terms against Russian proceedings at Tientsin. Britain would not object to the provisional transfer of the running of the railway line on the understanding that it would be restored to its former management on the termination of hostilities with China. Lamsdorff duly accepted, but somewhat disingenuously demanded that the Russian government be reimbursed for the expenditure incurred in repairing and maintaining the line.¹⁴ Russian troops, meanwhile, continued to take over sections of the CNR. Against the spirit of Salisbury’s cautious instructions, MacDonald encouraged General Sir Alfred Gaselee, the commander of the British contingent in north China, to counteract the Russian proceedings by occupying part of the Peking–Tientsin line. While Salisbury thought almost exclusively in terms of European diplomacy, Britain’s ‘men on the spot’ were aware of the ‘extreme importance to [Britain’s] comparative prestige and inﬂuence in North China that the Russians should not dominate the railway system here’.¹⁵ Between them, MacDonald and Gaselee engineered a British occupation north of the section taken over by the Russians. Anglo-Russian confrontation had surreptitiously reached a stalemate. However, when MacDonald suggested breaking the impasse by pressurizing Russia further, Salisbury blocked him. Fearing an imminent attempt to bring the northern part of the CNR under direct Russian control, the minister had urged Salisbury to agree to the occupation of Shanhaikwan, just inside the Great Wall. Salisbury refused to be drawn into such action: ‘If we contemplate ﬁghting, it is not necessary that we should forestall the Russians; we can take it when we please. But that would be a state of war. If the Russians take it, this action will be against treaties and their own pledge & will constitute a state of war. But there is no substantial advantage in anticipating them in their illegal proceedings.’¹⁶ Salisbury, then preoccupied with events at Shanghai, regarded Shanhaikwan as a side-issue. This belied the true signiﬁcance of the railways question; it meant that it was still hanging ﬁre in the autumn and winter. Little movement could be expected until Waldersee’s arrival in China in late September. The occupation and plundering of the railway installations at Tientsin stood in sharp contrast to Lamsdorff ’s repeated assurances of the ‘disinterested’ nature ¹⁴ Note Scott to Lamsdorff, 26 July 1900, and Scott to Salisbury (no. 244), 1 Aug. 1900, FO 65/1600. ¹⁵ Tel. MacDonald to Salisbury (unnumbered), 28 Aug. 1900, FO 17/1418. ¹⁶ Min. Salisbury, n.d. [6 or 7 Sept. 1900], on tel. MacDonald to Seymour, 2 Sept. 1900, FO 17/1446; tel. Salisbury to MacDonald (no. 87), 7 Sept. 1900, FO 17/1419.

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of Russia’s China policy.¹⁷ It was also a breach of the Scott–Muravev agreement. Already earlier Lamsdorff had attempted to reinterpret that agreement in a wider politico-military sense; now it seemed as though Russia was prepared to tear up the 1899 agreement altogether. Russian proceedings in Manchuria also came to the fore. As announced by Lamsdorff in mid-July, the Russians took whatever ‘security measures’ they deemed necessary. Manchuria was affected by Boxer activities much later than northern China proper. The generals commanding Chinese government troops maintained some degree of control over the Manchurian provinces. But all their exertions were wrecked by Russian intransigence. Following Witte’s insistence on the right of transit for Russian troops through Manchuria to Chili, hostilities broke out on 14 July. Three days later, the Amur military district was put on war alert, and Russian forces crossed into Manchuria. Within three months, by 1 October, the whole of Manchuria was under Russian military occupation. St Petersburg regarded the occupation as an exclusively Sino-Russian affair. Russian diplomacy, therefore, aimed at keeping Manchurian affairs off the agenda of the conference of the foreign representatives at Peking, which was to negotiate a peace settlement with post-Boxer China.¹⁸ Russia’s military operations in Manchuria seemed to indicate a new phase in Russian policy. While since 1895 it had professedly aimed at keeping the tottering Chinese Empire on its legs, it now had all the appearance of seeking to hasten China’s collapse, and to absorb Manchuria. Such ambitions placed the Russian government in a dilemma, as the chargé d’affaires at St Petersburg, Charles Hardinge, noted. With the military campaign in Manchuria completed, Russia would have to devise means of simultaneously maintaining control over the north and ‘the ﬁction of withdrawing other troops’. The occupation of Newchwang at the beginning of October offered some indication of Russia’s next steps. With Russian troops in situ, the railway was by the now familiar ‘right of conquest’.¹⁹ Newchwang was of major strategic signiﬁcance, as it was an important railway junction where the CNR extension line met with the south Manchurian line of the Eastern Railways (CER). Given its treaty port status, the occupation also held out the distinct prospect of the ﬁnal collapse and subsequent partition of the Chinese Empire. ¹⁷ Scott to Salisbury (no. 277), 30 Aug. 1900, FO 65/1600. ¹⁸ Memo. War Ofﬁce Intelligence Division, ‘The Russian Operations in Manchuria, June–October 1900’, Jan. 1901, FO 17/1501; Hardinge to Salisbury (no. 319), 4 Oct. 1900, FO 65/1601; Malozemoff, Russian Far Eastern Policy, 136–7. ¹⁹ Hardinge to Bertie, 20 Sept. 1900, Hardinge MSS. 3; and to Salisbury (no. 323), 6 Oct. 1900, FO 65/1601; see Neilson, Last Tsar, 212.

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Hardinge favoured a ﬁrm line against Russia. On 22 October, he protested against the gradual takeover of the Shanhaikwan–Newchwang railway. Emphasizing the discrepancy between the actions of the Russian military authorities in China and ofﬁcial statements emanating from St Petersburg, he declared to Aleksandr Konstantinovich Basily, the head of the Asiatic department at the Pevcheskii. Most, that it was ‘sufﬁcient to shake [British] conﬁdence’ in the reliability of assurances by the Tsar and his government. This came as close to openly accusing the Russian government of mendacity and crooked dealings as diplomatic tact and custom allowed. Hardinge thought the risks involved justiﬁed, for he calculated that Russia was in no strong position. The irritation with which the announcement of the Anglo-German China agreement was greeted at St Petersburg conﬁrmed Hardinge in his assumption.²⁰ The agreement ‘had tended to intensify a feeling of irritation against Germany in political circles, which has undoubtedly been growing since Germany has assumed such a prominent role in military and diplomatic action in China’. As seen from the Choristers’ Bridge, the secretive conclusion of the October agreement implied Germany’s defection to Britain. This had come as a shock. Hardinge warned that this ‘feeling of smouldering irritation’ was likely to boost the military party at St Petersburg. The ofﬁcial Russian response to the agreement was reserved. The arrangement between the two Powers ‘ne modiﬁe pas . . . la situation en Chine’, Lamsdorff notiﬁed Hardinge.²¹ Hardinge dismissed this claim. For the ﬁrst time Britain and Germany ‘presented a united front’ in China. Through the October agreement this combination had been ‘consolidated by a contract to which other Powers have become acquiescing partners, for the peaceful development of the Chinese Empire in its complete integrity’. The Anglo-German core with its satellites thus formed ‘a very powerful guarantee for peace in the Far East’. Russia would accept the principles enshrined in the Anglo-German accord in so far as they conformed with her own objectives; but would strive to maintain a ‘free hand’ in China, ‘unhampered by engagements to joint action with other Foreign Powers’.²² The secrecy surrounding the negotiations was even more alarming to St Petersburg. As Hardinge learnt from his Austrian colleague, the anglophile Count Karl Kinsky, Russian ofﬁcials had formed the clear impression that the agreement was inspired by anti-Russian designs, ‘as if two of a party of friends ²⁰ Hardinge to Salisbury (no. 353), 22 Oct. 1900, FO 65/1601. ²¹ Quotes from Hardinge to Salisbury (no. 356), 26 Oct. 1900, BD ii, no. 19; and note Lamsdorff to Hardinge, encl. in Hardinge to Salisbury (no. 357), 28 Oct. 1900, FO 65/1601. ²² Hardinge to Salisbury (no. 362), 30 Oct. 1900, ibid. (my emphasis).

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had shut themselves up in an inner room and, having come to an arrangement together on a matter interesting the whole party, had suddenly come forth and announced . . . the agreement . . . and had expected all of them to agree to it’.²³ Hardinge’s reading of the Anglo-German agreement as guaranteeing China’s ‘complete integrity’ was signiﬁcant, for after Salisbury’s cartographic blunder it did no such thing. However, if the Russians shared Hardinge’s interpretation, then this gave Britain some leverage over them. Kinsky’s information seemed to suggest as much, though it held true only for as long as Germany did not declare her position. This also helps to explain Hardinge’s continued advocacy of a ﬁrm line against Russia. Hardinge’s formal protest against the occupation of the Newchwang line on 3 November created some ‘excitement’ in the Russian capital. Still reeling from the announcement of the Anglo-German agreement, ‘they have rather lost their heads’, he opined optimistically.²⁴ Russian diplomacy had not lost its preference for prevarication, however. Hardinge’s protest remained unanswered until 14 November. The Russian note merely gave a bland assurance that St Petersburg would adhere to the ﬁnancial clauses of the 1899 railways understanding, while the contentious Newchwang issue was not addressed. That omission was as ominous as the reference to ﬁnancial stipulations in the Scott–Muravev agreement was mystifying, for it contained no such clauses. Lansdowne was determined not to ‘allow matters to drift indeﬁnitely’. He rejected Russian demands that the retrocession of the railway and its properties be made the subject of negotiations. For Lansdowne the handover was non-negotiable. His ‘ﬁrm and decided line’ owed something to Bertie’s advice. From his vantage point at St Petersburg’s Quai de la Cour Hardinge supported this line of policy: ‘that is the proper way to treat the Russians’.²⁵ Ardagh advocated even more drastic measures. His analysis of the ﬁnancial status of Britain and her main European rivals, led him to conclude that the underlying strength of Britain’s national ﬁnances was undiminished. While French ﬁnances had remained relatively stable, Germany’s ﬁnancial status had declined. The ‘magniﬁcent projects of the Emperor’, he concluded, could not be ﬁnanced: ‘Germany in fact cannot enter into costly adventures.’ Russia was in an even more precarious position. Witte’s stewardship of the Russian ²³ Hardinge to Salisbury (no. 364), 31 Oct. 1900, ibid.; on Kinsky see H. H. D. Beaumont, ‘Diplomatic Butterﬂy’ (unpubl. TS), PP/MCR/113, fo. 180. ²⁴ Hardinge to Sanderson, 8 Nov. 1900, Hardinge MSS 3. ²⁵ Quotes from min. Lansdowne, n.d., on Hardinge to Lansdowne (no. 386), 14 Nov. 1900, FO 65/1602; and Hardinge to Bertie (private), 15 Nov. 1900, Bertie MSS, Add.MSS. 63014; see Scott to Salisbury (no. 244), 1 Aug. 1900, FO 65/1600.

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Treasury had produced no improvement in Russia’s ﬁnances, ‘and the Chinese adventure will cripple her to the extent of say ﬁfteen or twenty millions’. These circumstances combined, the intelligence chief calculated, were ‘quite a stroke of good fortune for us’. The longer the ‘Chinese imbroglio’ lasted, the more expensive it became for Russia; and if British diplomacy could reduce the Boxer indemnity to be imposed upon China by the Peking conference, then Russia and Germany would feel the ‘pinch’. But Ardagh went further. The British chief-engineer of the CNR ought to be encouraged to prepare ‘a liberal estimate’ of the losses incurred by the war and Russia’s subsequent ‘constructive damage’ of the line. These costs were to be claimed from St Petersburg to increase Britain’s leverage over Russia. Ardagh argued that the moment was opportune for ‘creating a scare in Russia’ about Persia through ‘wild cat schemes which would obtain ready credence among the Anglophobes in Russia and would induce further expenditure’. Sanderson advised Lansdowne against Ardagh’s ‘humorous’ suggestion to work up a war scare in Russia: ‘each country has its own methods, and I do not think that we shine in genteel comedy. The British public takes everything in earnest, and we should ﬁnd ourselves violently abused for abandoning at Russian dictation some scheme which we had never seriously entertained, and probably driven further than we wished.’²⁶ Scott was appalled by Hardinge’s hawkish attitude. The ambassador favoured Salisbury’s milder line lest ﬁrm opposition help the military party to gain the ascendancy over the embattled but paciﬁc Lamsdorff. Scott’s assessment of Lamsdorff ’s policy was both erroneous and inferior to Hardinge’s, for the interim foreign minister supported the actions taken by the Russian commanders in northern China. On 13 November, a day before Hardinge was handed the prevaricating note in reply to his formal protest over the Newchwang dispute, Lamsdorff had agreed to the transfer of the CER to Witte’s Finance Ministry.²⁷ Scott had been kept in ignorance of Hardinge’s protest until after his return to Russia. In an effort to placate the ambassador, Sanderson blamed this lack of communication on ‘Bertie’s disposition not [to] tend to excessive communicativeness’.²⁸ This was only a partial explanation, ²⁶ Ardagh to Sanderson, 8 Nov., and min. Sanderson, 9 Nov. 1900, HD3/119. Ardagh’s assumption of the underlying strength of British ﬁnances suggests a greater diversity of opinion on Britain’s ﬁnancial crisis than is often assumed by historians, see A. L. Friedberg, ‘Britain Faces the Burden of Empire: The Financial Crisis of 1901–1905’, W&S v, 2 (1987), 15–37. Kinder, the railway engineer popularly known as ‘The British Flag’, played a prominent role in north China, see Kinder obituary, The Times (10 Aug. 1936); also A. W. S. Wingate, A Cavalier in China (London, 1940), 116. ²⁷ Scott to Lansdowne (private), 29 Nov. 1900, Lansdowne MSS, FO 800/140; Young, British Policy, 269–71; Neilson, Last Tsar, 212–13. ²⁸ Sanderson to Scott (private), 9 Dec. 1900, Scott MSS, Add.MSS. 52298.

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for Bertie and Hardinge had tried to sideline Scott. Hardinge had long been critical of his chief: ‘I do not think that he will ever be an ideal Amb[assado]r, as he is too nervous and timid, but if we are to follow a policy of conciliation & of never putting our foot down . . . he will do as well as anybody else.’ Bertie was scathing about Scott’s perceived credulity in the face of Russian mendacity: ‘Poor Scott swallows everything Lamsdorff tells him.’²⁹ This was more than a mere clash of temperaments; it was indicative of the different ‘Victorian’ and ‘Edwardian’ approaches to foreign policy questions. However much Lansdowne inclined towards Bertie’s hawkish views, the AUS’s inﬂuence ought not to be exaggerated. Lansdowne decided against a ‘ﬁrm and decided line’ against Russia. This decision was shaped by his wish for close Anglo-German cooperation, as well as by the constraints Waldersee’s presence in China placed upon British diplomacy. For Lansdowne, Russian enmity was a constituent element of almost all policy calculations. But now German sensibilities fettered his ability to pursue a ‘ﬁrm line’ against Russia, especially since Lamsdorff was working to weaken the October agreement by enticing the two parties to furnish him with conﬂicting interpretations in order to cause dissent between London and Berlin.³⁰ The nature of Waldersee’s command was also a diplomatic handicap for Lansdowne. Desirous of closer cooperation with Berlin, the Foreign Secretary repeatedly found himself forced to accept Waldersee’s brokerage to solve Britain’s Chinese problems. When the Cabinet accepted Waldersee’s nomination, as Lansdowne minuted approvingly at that time, it had merely decided ‘to give our general adhesion’ to the Waldersee scheme. The fact that the Count was to have no more than ‘supreme direction’ meant that the British contingent remained under British command. The arrangement seemed elastic enough to allow Britain to withdraw from it, if circumstances required it. Field Marshal Viscount Wolseley, the Commander-in-Chief of the Army, noted that, as Waldersee’s own contingent in China was relatively small, he would be dependent upon the other foreign troops, and so not be able to pursue an energetic policy of his own. Already at the time of Waldersee’s appointment, Wolseley was anxious to have the arrangement reviewed once the legations ²⁹ Quotes from Hardinge to Corbett, 3 Aug. 1898, Corbett MSS, 17M78/151 (I am grateful to Richard Bird for bringing this document to my attention); and Bertie to Lascelles (private), 27 Feb. 1901, Lascelles MSS, FO 800/10; see Earl of Onslow, Sixty Three Years (London, s.a.), 90. ³⁰ Tel. Pückler to Auswärtiges Amt (no. 363), 29 Oct. 1900, GP xvi, no. 4747. For Bülow’s fencemending, see Bülow, Denkwürdigkeiten i, 399–400; B. Vogel, Deutsche Russlandpolitik: Das Scheitern der deutschen Weltpolitik unter Bülow, 1900–1906 (Düsseldorf, 1973), 118–24.

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were relieved, and to conﬁne the German’s ‘supreme direction’ to Chili. Mistrustful of Germany, he argued that close cooperation with Japan and the United States was the best means of safeguarding British interests in China. This last consideration underlined the need for the British general to retain a substantial degree of autonomy within the overall command structure which had yet to be established. Consequently, it was impressed upon Gaselee that ‘[t]he command of the troops supplied by us will however rest always with you and the superior ofﬁcers under your orders’.³¹ The very vagueness of the Waldersee arrangement had allowed for its speedy conclusion. But it contained also the seeds of future complications. As Browne, the military attaché at Peking, pointed out, the new commander-in-chief ’s nationality itself was problematic. Given Germany’s strategic position in Europe, Waldersee was likely to incline towards Russia. At the same time, vigorous support for Russia in China would do little to advance Germany’s own interests, since ‘her trade follows our ﬂag’.³² While Waldersee might act as a kind of shock-absorber in the not unlikely event of an Anglo-Russian clash of interests, he would not defuse such clashes. Finally, the terms of Waldersee’s mission were ﬂawed as well, chieﬂy because there were no terms. Berlin had offered to place the ﬁeld marshal’s services at the disposal of the Powers, and the latter had accepted. Neither the scope, nor the nature or duration of his command were ever speciﬁed. It was generally assumed that his authority was conﬁned to the metropolitan province. But this assumption was based on the wording of the earlier Russian initiative and on the fact that the Germans had not stated otherwise.³³ It was a cardinal error to leave the interpretation of the precise nature of Waldersee’s mandate at the discretion of the allies—an error that soon made his chief command the source of international discontent. Upon his arrival in China, Waldersee found himself caught up in the AngloRussian railways dispute. He chose the course of least resistance, and decided to ‘keep a middle line, emphasising the military point of view’.³⁴ From his perspective, this was entirely sensible. Equipped with ill-deﬁned powers, and with only a medium-size force of his own, he was in no position to impose a settlement upon the British and Russians. Unable to dislodge the latter, yet unwilling to acquiesce in their occupation of the Tientsin railway lest his authority be ³¹ Quotes from mins. Lansdowne and Wolseley, 9 and 10 Aug. 1900, WO 32/6410; also Knox to Godley, 14 Aug. 1900, and min. Hutchinson, 14 Aug. 1900, L/MIL/7/16731. ³² Memo. Browne, ‘Memorandum on Course Affairs may take in Pekin’, 10 Aug. 1900, FO 17/1444; memo. Major Crowe, ‘General Count von Waldersee’, 8 Aug. 1900, L/MIL/7/16731. ³³ Min. Bertie, 13 Sept. 1900, FO 17/1419; min. Lansdowne, 11 Aug. 1900, WO 32/6410. ³⁴ Tel. Waldersee to Wilhelm II (no. 25), 8 Oct. 1900, GP xvi, no. 4734.

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damaged, he embarked on a policy of protracted diplomatic negotiations. For this he had little aptitude, nor had he any particular foresight. By authorizing the occupation of Shanhaikwan by British troops at the end of September he alienated the Russian commanders Admiral Evgeni Ivanovich Alekse’ev and Col. Prince Pavel Nikolaevich Engalichev, whose troops were advancing on that place, and who had thus been deprived of the control of the entire railway and coastline from Tientsin to Newchwang. On the other hand, his hesitant attitude in the Tientsin railway question, and his evident desire not to offend the Russians, disappointed British hopes for speedy redress.³⁵ By the time Waldersee arrived in China, the British-built Tangku–Tientsin railway line had been completely taken over by a Russian railway battalion. The Secretary of State for India blamed the Russian seizure of the railways on Salisbury and the Foreign Ofﬁce. Their ‘policy of extreme caution and dilatoriness’ had failed to separate Germany from Russia; and having failed to bind Germany closer to Britain, diplomatic protest notes addressed to Berlin or St Petersburg would remain without effect. The recent experience conﬁrmed Hamilton’s ‘opinion that a policy of inaction on our part . . . never can succeed. Unless we are prepared to risk something ourselves, or to throw our lot in with one of the great European powers, we cannot expect them to stand with us or assist us in protecting our special interests.’³⁶ Waldersee found himself caught between the Russians, who openly disobeyed orders issued by his headquarters, and the British, who demanded of him the protection of British property which they themselves were unable to undertake. As Waldersee’s chief of staff, General Julius von Schwarzhoff, explained to Gaselee, the Russian troops were already in possession of most of the line; any solution had to be based on this fact.³⁷ Waldersee consequently concluded a special railway convention with Linevich, which left most of the railway in Russian hands, with the remainder being handed to Waldersee in his position as commander-in-chief. The agreement, disguised as an army order, was clearly dictated by the exigencies of the situation on the spot. Waldersee’s decision to acquiesce in the Russian fait accompli found little favour with the British.³⁸ ³⁵ Grierson staff diary, 25 Sept. 1900, WO 32/6411; tel. Gaselee to Hamilton (no. 460), 30 Sept. 1900, L/MIL/6/41/10095. ³⁶ Hamilton to Curzon (private), 11 Oct. 1900, Hamilton MSS, MSS.Eur.C.126/2. For Russian proceedings in the railway question see Grierson staff diary, 27 Sept. 1900, WO 32/6411; and the critical reﬂections on the performance of British troops in memo. Spratt-Bowring, 7 July 1901, WO 106/76. ³⁷ Grierson staff diary, 1 Oct. 1900, WO 32/6411; Waldersee to Wilhelm II, 20 Oct. 1900, Waldersee, Denkwürdigkeiten iii, 20. ³⁸ Lascelles to Salisbury (no. 254), 11 Oct. 1900, FO 64/1494; Army Order, 8 Oct. 1900, encl.in Grierson to Knox (no. 2), 13 Oct. 1900, WO 32/6412.

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The effect of Bülow’s assurances was short-lived, for he hinted that German support in China was conditional upon a more ‘liberal treatment’ of German investors in South Africa. Eckardstein’s subsequent statement that Berlin was ‘anxious to do what they could to satisfy H[er] M[ajesty’s] Gov[ernmen]t’ and to settle the dispute over control of the CNR in a satisfactory manner, were given little credence.³⁹ Repeated German demands for a naval demonstration on the Yangtze River to protect the local viceroys against the Peking government, provided a further element of confusion. German diplomacy, then, merely stirred the muddy waters of the Chinese pool. Salisbury rejected Bülow’s plans shortly before relinquishing the seals of the Foreign Ofﬁce in early November.⁴⁰ Lansdowne took his lead from his predecessor. The planned dispatch of German gunboats, rather than contributing to the maintenance of order in the Yangtze provinces, would arouse the suspicions of the Viceroys, cause popular disturbances, and instigate Russia to embark upon similar expeditions in the northern parts of the Chinese Empire.⁴¹ While Bülow’s abortive Yangtze initiative caused irritation in London, Waldersee’s conduct at Peking sowed the seeds of further suspicion. In particular the convention with Linevich regarding the CNR came under closer scrutiny. Colonel James Moncrieff Grierson, the British Military Attaché at Berlin, and now Britain’s representative on the ﬁeld marshal’s staff, had anticipated Waldersee’s conduct. He attributed it to three factors: ‘ﬁrstly, German rigid military theory, excellent probably for European warfare, but quite inadequate for war in semi-civilized countries; secondly, German fears of Russia’s power; and thirdly, German jealousy of Great Britain.’ Drawing on his four years’ experience in Berlin, he noted that senior German army and naval ofﬁcers were ‘steeped in jealousy of Great Britain’.⁴² The Waldersee–Linevich convention placed the government in London under increased pressure from the British bondholders of the CNR. As one of his last actions as Foreign Secretary, Salisbury had told Hatzfeldt that he expected the whole line to be handed over to the British chief-engineer and his staff.⁴³ Despite ³⁹ Quotes from Lascelles to Salisbury (nos. 254 and 256), 11 and 12 Oct. 1900, FO 64/1494; and vice versa (no. 236), 22 Oct. 1900, FO 64/1491; note Bertie to Salisbury, 21 Oct. 1900, FO 17/1448. ⁴⁰ Tel. Bülow to Hatzfeldt (no. 436), 31 Oct. 1900, GP xvi, no. 4751; Bertie (for Salisbury) to Lascelles (no. 252), 5 Nov. 1900, FO 64/1491. ⁴¹ Lansdowne to Lascelles (no. 280), 27 Nov. 1900, FO 64/1491; tel. Hatzfeldt to Auswärtiges Amt (no. 779), 22 Nov. 1900, GP xvi, no. 4765. ⁴² Quotes from Grierson to Knox (no. 1), 2 Oct. 1900, WO 32/6411; Grierson staff diary, 27 Sept. 1900, WO 32/6411; also Campbell to Satow (private), 21 Oct. 1900, Satow MSS, PRO 30/33/9/4. ⁴³ Salisbury to Lascelles (nos. 222 and 241), 25 Oct. and 1 Nov. 1900, FO 64/1496; Hardinge to Salisbury (no. 353), 22 Oct. 1900, FO 65/1601.

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German assurances, Waldersee was unable to fulﬁl these pledges. His position as supreme commander, caught between two unfriendly allies, became increasingly difﬁcult. On 13 November, he informed Gaselee that Russia was withdrawing all troops, save for one railway battalion, from the metropolitan province; that the Shanhaikwan–Yangts’un line would then be handed over to him, and then be placed under Gaselee’s control. Yet, on the same day Linevich reneged, and the ﬁeld marshal was now told that the line would remain under Russian control. Waldersee’s strongly-worded note, demanding from the Russian military authorities ‘a distinct and binding declaration’ of their intentions, was little more than a face-saving exercise. In reality he had no choice but to submit to Russian duplicity. For Grierson it was further proof of the ‘extreme delicacy’ with which Russian susceptibilities were treated by Waldersee and his staff: ‘Our fantastic dance to Russian piping is getting wilder than ever, and bids fair, unless checked by strong representations from London, to culminate in a “can-can diabolique”.’⁴⁴ To complicate matters further, Russian troops established themselves by right of conquest on CNR property on the left bank of the Pei-ho River in the foreign settlement at Tientsin. In combination with Russia’s refusal to return the railway to British management, this latest development allowed for only one conclusion: Russia intended to expropriate the CNR in its entirety. Satow advised Lansdowne to take a ﬁrmer line against St Petersburg, ‘if only for the satisfaction of English opinion in China’.⁴⁵ The events at Tientsin coincided with Russia’s dilatory reply to Hardinge’s protest note of 3 November, which alerted Lansdowne to the dangers of ‘allow[ing] matters to drift indeﬁnitely’; and he resolved to ‘return to the charge’.⁴⁶ A policy of ‘ﬁrmness’ did not meet with universal approval at the Foreign Ofﬁce. Just as Scott at St Petersburg argued for a more conciliatory line, so Campbell of the Far Eastern department counselled caution: ‘until we have actually got back our railway, would it not be better to leave someone else to point this out to the Russians?’ Lansdowne reluctantly accepted Campbell’s advice, but could not hide his irritation: ‘This will do for the present, but we cannot let the incident pass.’ The Foreign Secretary’s anxiety to ‘return to the charge’ was supported by Bertie. However, the AUS reminded him that no ⁴⁴ Grierson to Knox (no. 4), 20 Nov. 1900, WO 32/6414; see Waldersee to Gaselee (no.1125), 13 Nov. 1900, WO 32/6414. ⁴⁵ Campbell to Lansdowne (no. 63), 29 Nov. 1900, FO 17/1428; Satow to Lansdowne (private), 15 Nov. 1900, Lansdowne MSS, FO 800/119; also Knobel to Beaufort (no. 140/50), 15 Feb. 1901, BBBP (3) i, no. 385. ⁴⁶ Min. Lansdowne, n.d., on Hardinge to Lansdowne (no. 386), 14 Nov. 1900, FO 65/1602.

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redress was to be expected through the German Government. Berlin would not jeopardize relations with Russia by pressing St Petersburg: ‘It therefore has become a question between Russia and England.’⁴⁷ The triangular tussle between Waldersee, Britain, and Russia became increasingly surreal. Waldersee continued to look on as Russian troops removed rolling stock and other railway property from the depots at Tientsin and Shanhaikwan to Manchuria. At the same time, Waldersee was ﬁnally able to bring about a settlement of the dispute over the working of the CNR. On 17 January 1901, a convention was signed by him and a representative of the Russian headquarters which regulated the handover of the entire line from Shanhaikwan to Peking.⁴⁸ Waldersee’s eventual success in settling the railways dispute notwithstanding, his position as commander remained the source of much discontent. The ﬁeld marshal’s penchant for pointless punitive expeditions left a bitter legacy of hatred in China, and caused considerable irritation in Britain, not least because in ‘the so-called expeditions . . . “requisitions” easily degenerate[d] into “looting”.’⁴⁹ The China expedition of 1900 was one of the ﬁrst opportunities within living memory to witness the German army in action; and in the process a number of illusions were shattered. Grierson, who had been educated in Germany and who had served four years at the Berlin embassy, was appalled by the looting and maltreatment of the Chinese population perpetrated by German soldiers.⁵⁰ By the spring of 1901 Lansdowne himself had come to reﬂect that ‘[t]he Waldersee arrang[men]t did not work very satisfactorily’; and to Satow he confessed that ‘I fear it has done no good’.⁵¹ Having agreed to the Weltmarschall’s appointment when still at the War Ofﬁce, Lansdowne found as Foreign Secretary that Waldersee’s presence in northern China restricted Britain’s room ⁴⁷ Quotes from mins. Campbell, 12 Nov., and Lansdowne, n.d. [12 or 13 Nov. 1900], on tel. Satow to Lansdowne (no. 201), 11 Nov. 1900, FO 17/1418; and memo. Bertie, 21 Nov. 1900, FO 17/1450; see T. G. Otte, ‘ “Not Proﬁcient in Table-thumping”: Sir Ernest Satow at Peking, 1900–1906’, D&S xiii, 2 (2002), 168–9. ⁴⁸ Min. Campbell, 18 Feb. 1901, on Satow to Lansdowne (no. 196), 20 Dec. 1900, FO 17/1516; Grierson staff diary, 17 Jan. 1901, WO 32/6417; report Lt.-Col. MacDonald, ‘Report on Railways’, 16 Feb. 1901, L/MIL/7/16774. ⁴⁹ Grierson to Knox (no. 20), 9 Jan. 1901, WO 32/6416; memo. Browne, ‘Notes on the position of the French and German Forces at Paoting-fu’, 21 Mar. 1901, FO 17/1471; see Esherick, Origins, 279 and 282–3. ⁵⁰ Grierson to Knox (no. 4), 20 Nov. 1900, WO 32/6414; and (no. 33), 7 Mar. 1901, WO 32/6420. ⁵¹ Quotes from min. Lansdowne, n.d. [May 1901], FO 17/1471; and Lansdowne to Satow (private), 9 Apr. 1901, Satow MSS, PRO 30/33/7/1; also memo. Sanderson, 25 May 1901, FO 17/1505.

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for diplomatic manoeuvre. The experience left the image of Germany tarnished, and sowed the ﬁrst seeds of doubt in London about the desirability of closer ties with Germany. Meanwhile, a new crisis erupted in northern China. On 3 January 1901 The Times startled diplomatic circles in Europe by revealing a secret, though not yet ratiﬁed, Russo-Chinese accord respecting Fengti’en, the southernmost province of Manchuria. The paper’s Far Eastern special correspondent, the knowledgeable and inﬂuential Dr (George) Ernest Morrison had made his name by exposing Russian intrigues at Peking. His genius, in Curzon’s famous remark, lay in ‘the intelligent anticipation of facts even before they occur’. In a further remarkable scoop he had obtained a copy of the so-called Ts’êng-Alekse’ev agreement.⁵² The news triggered a Far Eastern ‘war-in-sight’ crisis that would last, with varying degrees of intensity, until April 1901. The agreement was a typical product of Russian Far Eastern diplomacy, exploiting local political instability to extend Russian inﬂuence over the three Manchurian provinces. The nine-point accord left China the ﬁg-leaf of suzerainty over Fengt’ien province, but turned it into a de facto Russian protectorate backed by a strong Russian military presence. The railways were to be placed under Russian control, and a Russian resident at Mukden would superintend policing in the province.⁵³ Morrison’s revelation created a stir, especially in Britain and Japan. The text, transmitted in a condensed form was substantially correct, though slightly inaccurate in details. ‘Chinese’ Morrison’s scoop was remarkable not so much because he had been able to obtain a copy of the agreement, which was available to diplomats in Peking by the end of December.⁵⁴ Rather, by telegraphing the text, he pre-empted the slowly grinding Foreign Ofﬁce machine. With Satow seriously ill, the legation secretary, the otherwise capable Reginald Thomas Tower, had decided to err on the side of economy, and forward the text ‘by bag’.⁵⁵ Thus, the Foreign Ofﬁce learnt of the Manchurian ⁵² The Times (3 Jan. 1901); The History of the Times (5 vols., London, 1947 et seq.) iii, 198 and 356. For the Curzon quote see A. J. A. Morris, The Scaremongers: The Advocacy of War and Rearmament, 1896–1914 (London, 1984), 276. ⁵³ The Times (3 Jan. 1901). The text of the agreement is reproduced in MacMurray (ed.), Treaties and Agreements i, 329, n.1.; Malozemoff, Russian Far Eastern, 191–208, though there are some factual inaccuracies in his account, see GEM i, no. 112, n. 3. ⁵⁴ Tel. Gaselee to Hamilton (no. 60), 29 Dec. 1900 (copy), FO 17/1499; also. Servan de Bezaure to Delcassé (no. 191), 9 Jan. 1901, DDF (2) i, no. 16 (Servan lists a 16-point agreement). ⁵⁵ Tower to Lansdowne (no. 2), 2 Jan. 1901, FO 17/1469; Satow diary, 10 Jan. 1901, Satow MSS, PRO 30/33/16/4. The Foreign Ofﬁce regularly exhorted heads of missions to economize, see Foreign Ofﬁce to Representatives Abroad, 17 Sept. 1894, FO 83/1320.

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agreement from the press rather than from its diplomats abroad. The fact that The Times had carried the story gave the whole affair even greater urgency. Morrison had concluded his report with a warning that similar arrangements for the other two provinces would follow, ‘and then Manchuria will be a de facto Russian protectorate, Russia . . . having already the right to maintain all necessary troops for the protection of the railway’.⁵⁶ The news caused the government extreme embarrassment. Already at the opening of the new parliament it had come under renewed attack for its handling of Far Eastern affairs.⁵⁷ Morrison was well known for his strong antiRussian sentiments; and allowances had possibly to be made for some exaggeration on his part or on that of his informants. If accurate, the preliminary agreement threatened to escalate the situation in China. Satow had already earlier concluded that it was the object of ‘Russian policy in Manchuria . . . to induce the Chinese ofﬁcials to return & administer the country for them, as they ﬁnd it impossible to do [so themselves]. This is the meaning of non-annexation, a sort of non-ofﬁcial protectorate.’ As Tower had obtained a copy of the agreement at the same time as Morrison, Satow was able without delay to conﬁrm its authenticity.⁵⁸ At the Choristers’ Bridge, Lamsdorff dismissed the rumoured Manchurian convention as ‘une pure fantaisie’ by a disreputable journalist.⁵⁹ Despite his earlier advocacy of a ‘ﬁrm line’, Lansdowne reacted cautiously. Scott was explicitly instructed not to enquire ofﬁcially at St Petersburg. Through his informal contacts there, the ambassador found out that the reported agreement was merely ‘a provisional arrangement’ with local Chinese authorities to place Russia’s temporary occupation of Manchuria on a proper footing. Always ready to take Russian assurances at face value, Scott had formed the notion that the agreement mirrored the arrangement which provided for the presence of Allied troops in Chili. Senior members of the Foreign Ofﬁce were not so easily placated. Campbell and Lansdowne surmised that St Petersburg would make the agreement a permanent one ‘if they ﬁnd they can do so without creating too much trouble for themselves with the other Powers’.⁶⁰ ⁵⁶ The Times (3 Jan. 1901); see G. W. Monger, ‘The End of Isolation: Britain, Germany and Japan, 1900–1902’, TRHS (5) xiii (1963), 109–10. ⁵⁷ PD (4) lxxxviii (1900), cols. 303–22; N. A. Pelcovits, Old China Hands and the Foreign Ofﬁce (New York, repr. 1969), 275–6. ⁵⁸ Satow diary, 14 Dec. 1900, Satow MSS, PRO 30/33/16/4; tels. Satow to Lansdowne (nos. 7 and 9), 4 and 6 Jan. 1901, FO 17/1487. ⁵⁹ Montebello to Delcassé (no. 7), 17 Jan. 1901, DDF (2) i, no. 30; tel. Izvolsky to Lamsdorff (no. 2), 14 Jan. 1901, in I. Yerukhomovich (ed.), ‘Nakanie russko-yaponskoi voyna’, KA 63 (1934), 9–11. ⁶⁰ Scott to Lansdowne (no. 7), 8 Jan. 1901, and mins. Campbell, 14 Jan. 1901, and Lansdowne, n.d., FO 65/1619; tel. Lansdowne to Scott (no. 1, conﬁdential), 3 Jan. 1901, FO 65/1624.

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Scott changed his mind shortly afterwards, following a conversation with his Austrian colleague, Aloys Lexa von Aehrenthal. The Austrian impressed upon him that Britain’s occupation of Egypt might serve ‘as a precedent [for Russia] which could be followed in developing a practically permanent occupation out of a professedly temporary one’. Scott warned that Aehrenthal might have been acting as a conduit transmitting ofﬁcial Russian views, and now took ‘a very gloomy view’ of the Manchurian situation.⁶¹ For his part, Lansdowne was not inclined to allow Russia to attain her ambitions trouble-free. On 8 January, before Scott’s soothing despatch arrived, the Foreign Secretary advised the British and Chinese Corporation (BCC), which had ﬁnanced a substantial part of the CNR, not to consent to a buy-out by the Russo-Chinese Bank. Under British management, Lansdowne noted, ‘the line could not fail to prove of great advantage to [British] trade’. The BCC fell in with Lansdowne’s suggestion.⁶² British policy in China was still reliant on Salisbury’s ‘patriotic capitalists’. While Lansdowne’s advice to the BCC is suggestive of his inclination not to yield to Russia, he was reluctant to commit himself to any deﬁnite course of action at an early stage. When on 12 January Baron Tadasu Hayashi, the new Japanese minister at London, suggested a joint Anglo-Japanese enquiry at St Petersburg as to the terms of the agreement as a ﬁrst step towards a formal protest, Lansdowne declined.⁶³ A combination of factors compelled him to proceed pragmatically. First, the conclusion of the Waldersee–Linevich convention respecting the return of the CNR to Britain was imminent, and Lansdowne was reluctant to embark upon a diplomatic initiative over Manchuria until the handover of the line had been completed. This was also the time when news ﬁltered through of Russia’s occupation of disputed plots of land at Tientsin. This, the looting by Russian troops of the rail terminus at Shanhaikwan, and the removal of rolling stock from the works there to Manchuria, made Lansdowne pick his steps warily. In view of its strategic importance, Lansdowne was loath to allow ‘the permanent usurpation’ by Russia of rights over the CNR. But, it was equally important to ensure Russia’s speedy evacuation of points along the intramural line. Britain had ‘to take what is given us merely as a payment on the future, surrendering nothing, placing our whole claim on record, and making it perhaps clear that the convention is regarded by us as provisional and made ⁶¹ Quotes from Scott to Lansdowne (no. 13), 10 Jan. 1901, FO 65/1619; and Scott to Lascelles (private), 10 Jan. 1901, Lascelles MSS, FO 800/6. ⁶² Bertie to BCC, 8 Jan. 1901, and vice versa, 12 Feb. 1901, quoted in memo. Bertie, ‘Questions with Russia in regard to Northern Railways of China’, 12 Jan. 1901, FO 17/1500; also Bertie to Keswick, 11 Jan. 1901, FO 17/1499. ⁶³ Min. Lansdowne, n.d., on note Bertie to Lansdowne, 12 Jan. 1901, FO 17/1499.

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for purely military purposes, without prejudice to political or ﬁnancial obligations’. The Russians, Lansdowne wrote to Hamilton, ‘are tiresome, & the Germans won’t really help us over the railway question’. Britain would have to insist ‘that all rights political & ﬁnancial are reserved & that the whole arrangement is provisional’.⁶⁴ There were other considerations besides the railway dispute. Lansdowne harboured no illusions about Russian aspirations. However, any diplomatic initiative to deprive Russia of her Manchurian booty required careful preparation. A memorandum by Bertie delineated the constraints placed upon Britain. By instinct he favoured a more forward policy but he was aware of the possible international complications that might result from ofﬁcial enquiries at St Petersburg. He conceded that Britain’s international position forced caution upon the government. The war in South Africa made the present ‘an awkward moment’, as Britain could not afford the risk of escalation. On the other hand, passivity would lead to ‘attacks in Parliament and we may lose touch of Japan’. Indeed, keeping the wire to Tokyo was one of Bertie’s main concerns. To this end, he suggested a joint Anglo-Japanese démarche, if possible with German participation, founded on the understood adhesion of Russia to the principles of the Anglo-German agreement. Bertie had never concealed his limited faith in German reliability or the practical value of the China agreement of October 1900. His scepticism was further encouraged by a conversation with Lascelles in late December 1900 in which the ambassador had explained ‘that we may be able to work with Germany to our advantage in China so long as we do not expect her to run her head against the Manchurian wall ’. Still, Bertie welcomed the Manchurian crisis as an opportunity to force Germany to clarify her position. An invitation to join Britain and Japan in making enquiries at the Choristers’ Bridge ‘may elicit from the German Government a disclaimer of the Anglo-German Agreement having any meaning in regard to such proceedings on the part of the Russians; and it is just as well that we should know the value to be attached to it as regards the German attitude towards Russia’.⁶⁵ Lansdowne was ‘not much enamoured of the idea’. Bertie’s projected trilateral initiative was unlikely to yield results. The Russian government would continue to equivocate; if Russian troops were withdrawn from Manchuria, the so-called ⁶⁴ Quotes from min. Lansdowne, 3 Jan. 1901, on Keswick to Bertie, 2 Jan. 1901, ibid.; Lansdowne to Hamilton, 10 Jan. 1901, Lansdowne MSS, Lans (5) 28. ⁶⁵ Quotes from min. Bertie (on conversation with Lascelles), 29 Dec. 1900, FO 17/1451 (my emphasis); and memo. Bertie, 13 Jan. 1901, FO 17/1499.

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‘railway guards’ would be retained; any approach to Germany was likely to be leaked to St Petersburg. A wait-and-see policy, then, seemed preferable: ‘for the present we must show as few signs as possible of being “fussy” about small matters in China; on the other hand we must not, for Parliamentary & other reasons acquiesce too much.’ The territorial integrity of the Chinese Empire should have been no ‘small matter’ for British diplomacy, but Salisbury encouraged Lansdowne’s decision to await further developments. In the absence of reliable information about the reported Manchurian agreement, Salisbury concluded, London was ‘not in a position to decry the transitory character under which Russia cloaks all her proceedings in North China at present’.⁶⁶ Although Lansdowne shared some of Salisbury’s preference for slow diplomacy, as opposed to Bertie’s neo-Bismarckianism, his disagreement with his AUS was not about pace or method. The core of their disagreement was Germany. Like Bertie, Lansdowne had no illusions about the vacillations of German policy, but he doubted the wisdom of cornering Germany and decided on a dilatory response to Hayashi’s suggestion of a common initiative.⁶⁷ Lansdowne continued to work for some form of Anglo-German combination, and instructed Lascelles to discover Germany’s position on ‘the Russian landgrabbing’.⁶⁸ To Satow he confessed at the same time that the ‘cross-currents’ of the Chinese Question complicated British foreign policy. Russia remained the principal threat to British imperial interests. Her conduct in the railway question had been ‘most exasperating’. As regarded the Manchurian agreement, he observed: ‘We shall no doubt receive the usual explanations and assurances, but the “inwardness” of the agreement . . . is unmistakable.’⁶⁹ Ofﬁcial assurances by Lamsdorff, now properly installed as Foreign Minister, made no impression on Lansdowne. In this he reﬂected more widely held sentiments among Cabinet ministers. Russia’s behaviour, to Hamilton’s mind, demonstrated the futility of efforts to come to some modus vivendi with Russia in Asia, ‘at any rate until there is in Russia an autocrat who can make his policy and promises respected and obeyed by the Military Department and the Generals’.⁷⁰ ⁶⁶ Quotes from Lansdowne to Salisbury (private), 15 Jan., and vice versa (private), 17 Jan. 1901, FO 17/1499; Grenville, Salisbury, 330. ⁶⁷ Lansdowne to MacDonald (nos. 6 and 8), 12 and 15 Jan. 1901, FO 46/538; J. A. S. Grenville, ‘Lord Lansdowne’s Abortive Project of 12 March 1901 for a Secret Agreement with Germany’, BIHR xxvii, 3 (1954), 204–5. ⁶⁸ Lansdowne to Lascelles (secret), 17 Jan. 1901, Lascelles MSS, FO 800/10. ⁶⁹ Lansdowne to Satow (private), 16 Jan. 1901, Satow MSS, PRO 30/33/7/1. ⁷⁰ Hamilton to Curzon (private), 18 Jan. 1901, Hamilton MSS, MSS.Eur.C.126/3; also Scott to Lansdowne (no. 28), 19 Jan. 1901, FO 65/1619; Neilson, Last Tsar, 214–15.

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Before Lansdowne could take any further steps in the matter, political life in Britain was brought to an abrupt halt by the death of Queen Victoria on 22 January 1901. The Queen’s funeral, on 4 February, brought to Windsor a large gathering of her many royal and princely European relations. Prominent among them was the Kaiser who, on hearing of his grandmother’s illness, had hurried to the Queen’s bedside. It was a moving gesture, which struck a chord with the British public, and won him the plaudits of the press and popular approval.⁷¹ Wilhelm’s visit coincided with a most crucial period in the relations between Britain and Germany, with the recent China agreement pointing to a rapprochement. More seemed possible when, at the same time, the mirage of a formal alliance re-appeared. Between 13 and 17 January, Eckardstein had a series of discussions with the Duke of Devonshire and Chamberlain at Chatsworth, the Duke’s Derbyshire seat. The two ministers informed him that they and some of their Cabinet colleagues agreed that a ‘policy of isolation’ was no longer feasible; that the choice was between joining the Triple or the Franco-Russian alliances; and that they would work for an Anglo-German rapprochement, and, ultimately, Britain’s adhesion to the triplice. In the meantime, as a ﬁrst step, Chamberlain suggested a secret agreement on Morocco; negotiations should begin with Lansdowne and himself as soon as Salisbury had gone to the south of France. Chamberlain warned Eckardstein that, should the attempt fail, Britain would be prepared to seek an arrangement with France and Russia.⁷² The Chatsworth talks were Chamberlain’s last bid for a rapprochement with Germany, rather than Eckardstein’s ﬁrst attempt at an alliance with Britain.⁷³ From Chamberlain’s perspective, such an effort made more sense. Russia’s ⁷¹ Wilhelm II to Lascelles, 19 Jan. 1901, Lascelles MSS, FO 800/18; Sanderson to O’Conor (private), 5 Feb. 1901, O’Conor MSS, OCON 6/1/26; Otte, ‘ “Winston of Germany” ’, 490–1. ⁷² Tel. Hatzfeldt to Auswärtiges Amt (no. 51), 18 Jan. 1901, GP xvii, no. 4979; Eckardstein, Lebenserinnerungen ii, 236–7. ⁷³ Incomplete archival evidence complicates a reconstruction of the talks. Hatzfeldt’s ofﬁcial report was based on a draft by Eckardstein, which in turn was written two days after the last conversation; and there is no written record of the meetings on the British side. According to Grenville, Salisbury, 334–5, Eckardstein deliberately misled the Wilhelmstrasse by suggesting that senior British ministers had extended an alliance feeler. But this is based on later evidence. In fact, there is no evidence of a double game in the context of the Chatsworth talks. Chamberlain’s suggestion of a Moroccan agreement has been seized upon as internal evidence of Eckardstein’s fabrication. Yet, Chamberlain had made such a proposal before, during the Kaiser’s last visit to Britain in November 1899, see Chamberlain to Lascelles (conﬁdential), 12 Dec. 1899 (copy), Chamberlain MSS, JC 7/2/2A/35. It seems that Eckardstein’s viliﬁcation by inter-war German revisionist writers still shapes assessments of his role during the Anglo-German talks around 1900.

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proceedings in northern China had been discussed in Cabinet. Her thinly disguised attempt to establish some form of protectorate over Manchuria was sufﬁcient to trigger the Anglo-German October agreement. Yet, Berlin’s vacillation on this subject, combined with Waldersee’s dithering, could be interpreted as holding out for better terms.⁷⁴ In Chamberlain’s view, the gravity of the Far Eastern situation was undiminished, and so were the risks of an ‘isolationist’ policy. Chastened by his earlier failure to secure some arrangement with Germany, an outright alliance offer was bound to fail. That had been the tenor of all of Hatzfeldt’s previous communications to him. A gradual approach, with the prospect of Britain’s eventual adhesion to the German-led Triple Alliance thrown in as a bait, seemed a more viable tactic. Given also Lansdowne’s well known favouring of an arrangement with Germany, the internal conditions for a renewed approach were superﬁcially more favourable than in 1898. The manner in which the meeting between the two Cabinet ministers and the German diplomat was arranged, camouﬂaged as a weekend party, with the Duchess of Devonshire acting as a conduit between the parties, is reminiscent of the 1898 pourparlers. Reﬂecting on the Chatsworth talks in later years, Sanderson’s then Private Secretary, William Tyrrell, was in no doubt ‘that Salisbury was kept in the dark as he was opposed to the policy of alliances, but A. J. B[alfour] & Lansdowne were privy to the deal’.⁷⁵ Bülow, his ideas shaped by a rigid belief in an immutable Anglo-Russian antagonism, did not welcome Eckardstein’s initiative. The longer Germany waited, the higher the price for an alliance with her would be. For the moment, he feared instead that the ‘present storm of friendship by Chamberlain and comrades’ was but the prelude to an attempt to force an alliance treaty upon the impressionable Kaiser. Such fears were unfounded. Although Wilhelm met a number of Cabinet ministers at Osborne and Windsor, the subject of an alliance was not broached. On 25 January, the Emperor received Lansdowne, and bestowed upon the nonplussed Foreign Secretary a lecture on world history and politics. The Emperor followed his Chancellor’s guidelines and tried to impress upon Lansdowne the futility of any attempt at a rapprochement between Britain and Russia: ‘Don’t talk of the Continent of Europe. Russia is really Asiatic. [ . . . ] The Russian Emperor only ﬁt to live in a country house and grow turnips. Only way to deal with him is to be the last to leave the room.’ ⁷⁴ Memo. Lansdowne, ‘Memorandum respecting Russia and the Northern Chinese Railways’, 22 Nov. 1900, CAB 37/53/76; and ‘Russian actions concerning the Imperial Railways of North China’, 17 Jan. 1901, CAB 37/55/9; The Times (7 Jan. 1901). ⁷⁵ Tyrrell to Asquith (private), 16 Sept. 1922, Asquith MSS, Bodl., MS Asquith 34.

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Lansdowne did not record his own contributions to this conversation, nor the impression it left on him, though Wilhelm thought that he had succeeded in making a ‘visibly deep impression’. Despite their mutual antipathy, the Kaiser even had a friendly encounter with Salisbury towards the end of his visit. He also expressed his liking for Chamberlain, though they did not meet.⁷⁶ The Kaiser’s funeral diplomacy was politically meaningless. The practical value of his warm words would soon be tested, however, for the Manchurian crisis took a further twist. Throughout the early phase of the crisis, Lamsdorff had dismissed ‘the suspicions and misapprehensions of Russia’s actions in North China’ as ‘these rumours’. By early February, the force of Lamsdorff ’s assurances had waned. He now merely denied the existence of a convention extending Russia’s rights in southern Manchuria. The new ambiguity in Lamsdorff ’s statement, and the possible distinction between the northern and southern portions of Manchuria, were not lost on the policy-makers in London. Evidence now emerged contradicting Lamsdorff ’s earlier assurances.⁷⁷ The Old China Hands now lobbied Lansdowne for a ﬁrm response to Russian provocations. William Keswick, a prominent China merchant, Conservative MP and leading light in the China Association warned that, if Manchuria were to fall under Russian control, trade at Newchwang would dwindle away, eventually to be directed to Russian’s port at Talienwan.⁷⁸ Meanwhile, Japanese diplomats in the Chinese capital had gathered similar information to that which had been passed to Satow. Hayashi was instructed to renew his efforts for a joint initiative. In his interview with Lansdowne he dwelt at some length and ‘with considerable earnestness on the risk of ﬁnding that Russia had permanently installed herself in Manchuria’.⁷⁹ In a further interview with Bertie, he suggested identical notes warning Peking against concluding separate treaties with foreign powers. Lansdowne was disposed in principle to accept Hayashi’s proposal as it did not entail any deﬁnite commitments on Britain’s part. Important though cooperation with Tokyo was, Lansdowne would not move without Germany. The Kaiser’s recent visit had left a ⁷⁶ Quotes from min. Lansdowne, n.d., in Newton, Lansdowne, 199; and Wilhelm II to Bülow, 29 Jan. 1901, GP xvii, no. 4987; also min. Bertie, 4 Feb. 1901, Bertie MSS, Add.MSS. 63014. On the German ‘doctrine’ of the Anglo-Russian antagonism, see Vogel, Russlandpolitik, 118–24. ⁷⁷ Quotes from Scott to Lansdowne (nos. 36 and 41), 31 Jan. and 6 Feb 1901, and mins. Lansdowne, n.d. [4 Feb.] and Cranborne, n.d. [11 Feb.], FO 65/1619. For evidence contradicting Lamsdorff ’s assurances, see tel. Satow to Lansdowne (no. 33), 5 Feb. 1901, FO 17/1487. ⁷⁸ Keswick to Bertie, 6 Feb. 1901, FO 17/1500; see Pelcovits, Old China Hands, 275–7. ⁷⁹ Tel. Lansdowne to MacDonald (no. 13), 29 Jan. 1901, FO 46/542; Harmand to Delcassé (no. 8, très conﬁdentiel), 31 Jan. 1901, DDF (92), i, no. 63.

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favourable impression on him, and removed some of the earlier doubts about a tripartite initiative. Thus, on 7 February, he informed Eckardstein of the Japanese proposal, and invited Berlin to join the two Powers in the démarche at Peking.⁸⁰ The Wilhelmstrasse reacted cautiously to Lansdowne’s invitation. Crucially, the latter was seen in connection with the Chatsworth talks. Holstein and Hatzfeldt reasoned that, like Chamberlain and Devonshire, Lansdowne aimed at a gradual ﬁrming of an Anglo-German combination. A defensive alliance with Britain, however, was feasible only if it contained an unambiguous security guarantee by Britain. For the moment, German diplomats were reluctant to accept a linkage between core European security arrangements and the China Question. An indication of German neutrality would sufﬁce to prevent a Far Eastern war. It would deter France from joining Russia in a conﬂict in Manchuria; and this, in turn, would restrain Russian diplomacy.⁸¹ Whatever Berlin’s plans, Eckardstein’s role was crucial. Hatzfeldt left him to deliver the reply to Lansdowne’s enquiry, which was to stress Germany’s intention to remain neutral. However, the Baron informed Lansdowne only of Berlin’s willingness to join Britain and Japan in warning China against a separate treaty with Russia ‘before they can estimate their obligations towards all the Powers as a whole’. Lansdowne welcomed Berlin’s decision. A refusal to respond positively to Japan’s proposal would have encouraged Tokyo to seek a direct accommodation with Russia. A Russo-Japanese combination, he warned, ‘would at least greatly complicate England’s and Germany’s remaining in China, possibly even make it impossible’. For the moment, Lansdowne concurred that the envisaged representations did not need to be given ‘a directly anti-Russian character’. Though less than he had hoped for, Lansdowne welcomed Eckardstein’s communication, and expected it to have a ‘salutary effect’.⁸² British diplomacy now swung into action. On 13 February, Lansdowne warned Sir Chichen Lofêng-lu, the Chinese minister in London, that the agreement revealed in The Times ‘would be a source of danger to the Chinese ⁸⁰ Memo. Bertie, 5 Feb. 1901, FO 46/547; note Lansdowne to Salisbury, 5 Feb. 1901, FO 46/538; Foreign Ofﬁce memo., 7 Feb. 1901, FO 244/596; see Izvolsky to Lamsdorff, 9/21 Feb. 1901, Yerukhomovich (ed.), ‘Russko-yaponskoi voyna’, 13–16. ⁸¹ Tels. Holstein to Bülow (privat), and vice versa (privat), both 9 Feb. 1901, GP xvi, nos. 4810–11; tels. Hatzfeldt to Holstein and vice versa (privat), 10 and 11 Feb. 1901, ibid. xvii, nos. 4988–9. The editors of GP have treated the talks (vol. xvii) and the Manchurian crisis (vol. xvi) as two separate developments, and thereby contributed to some of the confusion in later scholarly literature. ⁸² Quotes from Lansdowne to Lascelles (no. 54), 12 Feb. 1901, BD ii, no. 30; and tel. Hatzfeldt to Auswärtiges Amt (no. 134), 12 Feb. 1901, GP xvi, no. 4813 (sent in Hatzfeldt’s name).

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Government, and that no agreement affecting territorial rights in the Chinese Empire ought to be concluded’.⁸³ Lansdowne was anxious to maintain close links with Germany, but he was undecided whether to appease or to resist Russia. This hesitation had ﬁrst manifested itself in the Northern Railways dispute. This had developed in parallel with the crisis sparked off by the Sino-Russian agreement, and now inﬂuenced Lansdowne’s handling of the Manchurian issue. Until the contested railway was handed back to its British owners, Lansdowne wished to remain passive in Manchuria.⁸⁴ This was difﬁcult as the BCC now raised the future of the CNR. Bertie was in no doubt that the Russians meant to hold on to the disputed line. A ‘direct railway communication from the Manchurian line to Peking is an absolutely essential part of the Russian programme’ of establishing strategic control of all railway communications in northern China and around Peking. Further, ‘through her ally France, the Belgian Syndicate, and the Russo-Chinese Bank, she would have at her disposal for military purposes, the contemplated trunk line through China, viz. Peking to Hankow and on to Canton’. Control over the Newchwang–Shanhaikwan line would also enable Russia to divert Manchuria’s trade to Talienwan. It was now for the government to decide, Bertie observed, whether to force Russia to respect the bondholders’ rights or to encourage the BCC to make terms with the agents of Russian power in China.⁸⁵ Lansdowne took up the point in a Cabinet memorandum of 15 February. He urged ‘that we must make up our minds, and either meet Russia with a policy as determined as hers, or allow them [viz. the bondholders] to make the best bargain they can for themselves’. Encouraged by some voices in the BCC, he contemplated an arrangement with Russia whereby the bondholders’ rights on the extramural line were effectively sold to Russia. In return, Russia would contribute to servicing the original loan taken out for the line’s construction; not impose tariffs on British merchandise on the Manchurian railways; and not obstruct British control of the intramural line. More importantly, Russia would have to abandon her right under the Scott–Muravev agreement to construct a line to Peking. Whether St Petersburg could be persuaded to enter into such a bargain was unclear. As an inducement of some sort, Lansdowne pondered the idea of an overall settlement of the Manchurian question: ‘[i]t might form a tolerable solution if we were compelled by circumstances to ⁸³ Tel. Lansdowne to Satow (no. 35), 13 Feb. 1901, FO 17/1482. ⁸⁴ Memo. Mallet, ‘Memorandum on Recent Events in China’, 22 Feb., and Keswick to Bertie, 6 Feb. 1901, FO 17/1500; Satow to Lansdowne (no. 63), 13 Feb. 1901, FO 17/1470. ⁸⁵ Memo. Bertie, ‘Questions with Russia with regard to Northern Railways of China’, 12 Feb. 1901, FO 17/1500.

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recognize the rights of Russia to remain in occupation of Manchuria, and if we were prepared to set aside the Agreement deliberately entered into by her two years ago.’ He was convinced that the status quo in Manchuria could not be maintained. Yet the northern portion of China should only be relinquished to Russia in return for a proper settlement, not in anticipation of it. There was an alternative to a Manchurian barter. Heartened by Bülow’s decision to join the Anglo-Japanese representations at Peking, Lansdowne suggested a new declaration which all the Powers were to be invited to join. It would consist of only one ‘self-denying Ordinance’ which would preclude any disturbance of the territorial, commercial, and legal status quo in China until the Boxer settlement was concluded: ‘An agreement of this kind would destroy the validity of the huge concession lately obtained by the Russians at Tientsin . . . and of similar concessions which we hear are now in question.’⁸⁶ While Germany acted as a drag-weight on Lansdowne’s diplomacy, Japan pressed for further action. Not satisﬁed with a mere warning to China, Tokyo proposed more forceful representations at Peking.⁸⁷ This was a commitment too far for Lansdowne. Nevertheless, there was a degree of friction between Lansdowne and Salisbury, whom he consulted on the Japanese initiative, with Bertie offering a variation on the theme by Salisbury. Lansdowne acknowledged the need for a further concerted effort by the Powers if the Manchurian ‘backstairs bargain’ was to be aborted. However, the ‘much longer step’ now proposed by Tokyo was premature. Instead, Lansdowne proposed for the present to conﬁrm that British policy was based on the principles of the AngloGerman China agreement. Eckardstein had intimated that Berlin had joined in the ﬁrst warning to China ‘not . . . without serious misgivings’; and this information conﬁrmed Lansdowne in his reluctance to accept the new Japanese proposal. A further step might become necessary, however; and in preparation of such a step, a rider was to be attached to the proposed restatement of the October agreement: Britain reserved the right to take further measures in conjunction with other Powers ‘in the event of Russia, or any other Power, acting inconsistently with the principles of that agreement’; and after the ﬁrst admonition, China was expected not to conclude separate agreements with foreign Powers without prior reference to the nascent new triplice. To keep this combination intact was at the bottom of Lansdowne’s reluctance to fall in with Tokyo’s plans. He wished, ‘if possible, [to] carry [Germany] with us’.⁸⁸ ⁸⁶ Memo. Lansdowne, ‘Northern Railways’, 15 Feb. 1901, FO 17/1500 (printed version in CAB 37/56/23). ⁸⁷ Tel. MacDonald to Lansdowne (no. 4), 15 Feb. 1901, FO 46/542. ⁸⁸ Note Lansdowne to Salisbury, 16 Feb. 1901, FO 17/1500.

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Salisbury shared some of Lansdowne’s misgivings about the Japanese proposal, but was rather less cautious. The pledge sought by Tokyo was ‘somewhat in excess both of our power and interests’. The promise of material support against attempts to alter China’s territorial status quo would pledge Britain to defend ‘the vast inland frontier which separates the Chinese from the Russian Empire’. Salisbury opposed such a comprehensive guarantee. It would serve no British interest. On the other hand, he observed: ‘It might suit us to defend the littoral of North China—though the task would be heavy—say the Gulfs of Liaochung [sic], of Pechili & of Corea.’ Unlike Lansdowne, he expected little support from Germany, but was prepared to enter into an engagement with Japan for the joint defence of ‘the coasts which we think we have serious interests in preserving from Russian grasp’. Yet, such an agreement required careful deﬁnitions of the responsibilities entailed and its geographical limits as well as Cabinet approval.⁸⁹ The concluding stipulation is suggestive. Salisbury clearly did not envisage a merely temporary arrangement with the Japanese, but a clearly deﬁned agreement providing for regional naval and diplomatic cooperation between the two maritime Powers—hence the need for Cabinet approval. The draft outline of an agreement, however, did not anticipate in essence the AngloJapanese alliance, the terms of which were more far-reaching than Salisbury’s proposal.⁹⁰ A more apt parallel is the second Mediterranean entente with Austria-Hungary and Italy of December 1887, which provided for cooperation in defence of a geographically delimited status quo, without incurring any binding commitments for Britain in anticipation of a stipulated situation. In its sketched outline, the projected Japanese entente was conﬁned to the maritime rim of northern China and Korea; it did not commit Britain to any deﬁnite course of action. An arrangement with Japan would have complemented the Anglo-German October agreement, which aimed at preserving the status quo in at least the central provinces of the Chinese Empire. Russia’s proceedings in the north in the winter of 1900–1 had signed the death warrant for the Scott–Muravev agreement. The Anglo-German agreement and the entente with Japan would have furnished British diplomacy with new tools for Russia’s containment. Rather than marking a departure from the policy of eschewing peacetime commitments, often associated with Salisbury’s name, the proposed Japanese agreement underlined the nuanced and ﬂexible nature of this policy. ⁸⁹ Note Salisbury to Lansdowne, 16 Feb. 1901, ibid. ⁹⁰ For this view see Young, British Policy, 295.

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The phrasing of Salisbury’s minute was not very exact, but Lansdowne grasped its import: ‘I fancy his remark about the cabinet has reference to his own suggestion as to a possible pledge to guarantee a part of the Chinese litoral [sic].’ Still, he did not take up the point, for he remained wedded to the idea of carrying Germany along. Following the Anglo-Japanese-German representations at Peking, he was conﬁdent ‘that the Chinese Gov[ernmen]t will not be so unwise as to make such private arrang[emen]ts under pressure without telling us what is happening’. Japan was aware of Britain’s commitment to the maintenance of China’s integrity, and there was, then, no need to give such a ‘dangerously vague’ pledge as that proposed by Tokyo.⁹¹ Bertie intervened, raising once more the idea of a formal trilateral AngloGerman-Japanese démarche. China ought to be warned that any separate arrangements with Russia ‘of a territorial, political, ﬁnancial or commercial character’ might force the other Powers to seek compensation. Peking was to inform the three governments of any such arrangements so that they could jointly take steps ‘to counteract the evil results to the interests of China and the other Powers’. No doubt, Bertie pursued his own agenda. From the moment Morrison had revealed the Sino-Russian convention, Bertie had regarded the crisis as a test case for the Anglo-German China agreement.⁹² A renewed proposal for a tripartite approach to China was a further attempt to probe Germany’s commitment to China’s integrity. It would either draw Germany ﬁrmly to Britain’s side against Russia, or it would expose the October agreement as meaningless, and so pave the way for Salisbury’s projected entente with Japan. Lansdowne accepted Bertie’s suggestion of a stiffer note to Peking, but rejected the idea of a tripartite initiative. He delineated the substance of the note in the three points: 1. China must not make separate agreements; 2. If she is pressed to enter into such agreements we expect her to come to us; 3. If she doesn’t come to us, we shall have to raise the question of compensation. In essence, this was fully in line with his earlier minute on Salisbury’s entente idea. Once the terms of the new note were settled, the concurrence of Berlin and Tokyo could be obtained. The latter, at any rate, was likely to follow Britain’s lead. Lansdowne’s three points were more of an accurate description of Britain’s Chinese predicament than a prescription for a ﬁrm, new China policy. Bertie conceded that further Russian encroachment could not be ⁹¹ Note Lansdowne to Bertie, 17 Feb. 1901, FO 17/1500. ⁹² Note Bertie to Lansdowne, 17 Feb. 1901, ibid.; and min. Bertie, 12 Jan. 1901, FO 17/1487.

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prevented, unless China was promised material support, ‘which it would be dangerous and unpolitic [sic] for us to give in the general terms proposed’.⁹³ In the meantime, Satow delivered his ﬁrst warning against a separate SinoRussian agreement to the Tsungli Yamên on 19 February. He was not slow to establish that the German protest note ‘did not explicitly mention Manchuria’.⁹⁴ It was a further indication that Lansdowne would ﬁnd it difﬁcult to ‘carry’ Germany with him. Scott also urged caution. Although acknowledging the discrepancy between Lamsdorff ’s assurances and the reported text the ambassador at St Petersburg impressed upon Lansdowne the need ‘not to exhibit any signs of distrusting [Lamsdorff ’s] sincerity’. Under the agreements of 1898, Russia had acquired ‘the bar, lock and key of Manchuria’; and Russian control could be extended simply by means of ‘a liberal interpretation’ of existing agreements.⁹⁵ Lansdowne was edging towards a harder line. In preparation for a diplomatic offensive, William Erskine, a clerk in the Far Eastern department, was instructed to draw up a memorandum detailing the various assurances given by St Petersburg with regard to Chinese affairs since Russia’s acquisition of Port Arthur in March 1898. Erskine’s list of thirteen assurances concerning the ‘open-door’ principle and China’s territorial integrity stood in stark contrast to Russian proceedings on the ground.⁹⁶ While Lansdowne and Bertie considered Britain’s next move, the eventuality arose for which they had sought to prepare. Throughout February the diplomatic world had been awash with rumours about the nature of the Ts’êng–Alekse’ev agreement. Sanderson, with that weary cynicism engendered by years of superintending Far Eastern affairs, noted that ‘neither the Chinese nor the Russians are particularly careful to tell us the exact truth; it is obviously the game of the Chinese to exaggerate the Russian demands, and that of the Russians to minimize them’. He thought that Russia’s demands were likely to ‘be insidious rather than excessive’.⁹⁷ Nevertheless, the PUS was in no doubt that the Russian government would go to some lengths to secure Alekse’ev’s agreement without any further delay. From Eckardstein he learnt that Witte had tried to raise a £10 million loan on the Berlin bourse.⁹⁸ At the same time, ⁹³ Quotes from mins. Lansdowne and Bertie, both 17 Feb. 1901, FO 17/1500. ⁹⁴ Tel. Satow to Lansdowne (no. 48), 19 Feb. 1901, FO 17/1487; the instructions are in tel. Lansdowne to Satow (no. 35), 13 Feb. 1901, FO 17/1482. ⁹⁵ Scott to Lansdowne (no. 53, very conﬁdential), 20 Feb. 1901, FO 65/1619. ⁹⁶ Memo. Erskine, ‘Memorandum respecting Assurances given at different times by the Russian Government’, 19 Feb. 1901, FO 881/7469. ⁹⁷ Sanderson to Scott (private), 27 Feb. 1901, Scott MSS, Add. MSS.52299. ⁹⁸ Memo. Sanderson, 28 Feb. 1901, and min. Lansdowne, n.d., Lansdowne MSS, FO 800/115.

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the earlier rumours at Peking hardened into veriﬁable political facts. Russia’s Twelve Demands, which provided for exclusive economic, political, and territorial control of Manchuria, had been leaked to foreign diplomats by two Yangtze viceroys. Caught between the viceroys, who opposed the Russian agreement, and Li Hung-chang, who saw in the convention the only means of restoring the Manchurian provinces to China, the Imperial court decided to steer a middle course, and China’s representatives were instructed to seek mediation by the other Powers.⁹⁹ Lofêng-lu’s appeal on 1 March precipitated the crisis. Lansdowne at once adopted a ﬁrm line. Britain took a serious view of the Russo-Chinese convention since ‘it involved not only a temporary arrangement affecting a part of Manchuria, but the virtual establishment of a Russian protectorate over all Manchuria as well as Mongolia and Chinese Turkestan’.¹⁰⁰ The situation seemed extremely grave, especially since Satow now reported that Li Hungchang was about to sign the Manchurian agreement. This latest piece of information made a strong impression on the Foreign Secretary. In stark contrast to Lamsdorff ’s assurances, he explained to the Cabinet, the Tsar’s government was forcing upon Peking a permanent treaty to establish a Russian protectorate over the entire northern portion of China. Such arrangement was unacceptable for Britain: ‘If we cannot resist it by force, we ought at least to enter a protest and to make it clear that we reserve our Treaty rights in the regions concerned.’ As a ﬁrst step, he proposed to challenge St Petersburg to produce the actual text of the agreement, but he warned: ‘Time is important. . . . [Li Hung-chang] will be more likely to stand ﬁrm if he is told that we shall not admit the validity of the contemplated transaction.’¹⁰¹ Whether Lansdowne was prepared actually to use or to threaten the use of force is unclear. There was a widespread belief in Whitehall that Russia’s strained ﬁnances would act as a powerful restraint on her. Witte’s ﬁnancial policy, Scott argued, was ‘one of clever expedients to patch up a system which is fundamentally unsound’. This corresponded to earlier analyses by Ardagh and Sanderson.¹⁰² If assumptions of Russian ﬁnancial weakness were correct, then it was also reasonable to assume that St Petersburg would disengage, if its ⁹⁹ Tel. Satow to Lansdowne (no. 56), 27 Feb. 1901, FO 17/1487; note Lofêng-lu to Lansdowne, 1 Mar. 1901, FO 405/754/92. ¹⁰⁰ Tel. Lansdowne to Satow (no. 49), 1 Mar. 1901, FO 17/1482. ¹⁰¹ Memo. Lansdowne, 1 Mar. 1901, FO 65/1624 (circulated to the Cabinet, CAB 37/56/28); see tel. Satow to Lansdowne (no. 50), 28 Feb. 1901, FO 17/1487. ¹⁰² Scott to Lansdowne (no. 69, conﬁdential), 6 Mar. 1901, FO 65/1620; see memo. Sanderson, 28 Feb. 1901, Lansdowne MSS, FO 800/115; Ardagh to Sanderson, 8 Nov. 1900, HD3/119.

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Manchurian ambitions met with strong opposition. Much of the effect of that opposition depended upon the extent to which Lansdowne succeeded in building an international coalition against Russia. Such a combination was also necessary to steady the vacillating Chinese for, within a day of appealing for foreign mediation, Lofêng-lu returned to the Foreign Ofﬁce to beseech Lansdowne now not to oppose the agreement for fear of rupturing SinoRussian relations.¹⁰³ Lansdowne moved on several fronts simultaneously. Satow was instructed ‘strongly [to] urge Li Hung-chang not to commit himself until the Powers . . . have replied to his appeal’.¹⁰⁴ While Satow continued to stiffen the viceroys’ resolve through the local consuls, the main focus of Lansdowne’s attempts to lance the Manchurian boil focused on Berlin and Tokyo. Of the two, Berlin was the more critical, for more uncertain. On the day of China’s appeal, Lansdowne invited Germany and Japan to join Britain in making enquiries at St Petersburg as to the precise terms of the draft convention. Lansdowne envisaged this as a ﬁrst step towards mediation.¹⁰⁵ This sudden turn of events had not been anticipated by German diplomats, despite Eckardstein’s warning of a more energetic step on the part of Japan. The Wilhelmstrasse was content to follow Hatzfeldt’s earlier advice to adopt a ‘wait-and-see’ policy until Britain took the initiative in the alliance question.¹⁰⁶ Probably the most important factor in all German calculations was a profound mistrust of Salisbury, and his presumed French sympathies. Although his retirement from political life was widely anticipated, it was commonly believed at Berlin that Salisbury still directed British foreign policy. The German reading of the balance of power within the British government was crucial for the further development of the Manchurian crisis. Holstein predicted that Lansdowne would continue Salisbury’s ‘Zauder- und Rückzugspolitik’ (policy of hesitation and retreat), and yield to Russia’s stubborn resistance. The Manchurian crisis had thus reached a crucial juncture at the beginning of March. Berlin sensed that Britain was ‘coming’; and when Lansdowne invited Germany to join Britain in making enquiries at St Petersburg in response to the Chinese appeal, the Wilhelmstrasse suspected him of seeking the beneﬁts of an ¹⁰³ Tel. Lansdowne to Satow (no. 53), 2 Mar. 1901, FO 17/1482. ¹⁰⁴ Tel. Lansdowne to Satow (no. 55), 4 Mar. 1901, ibid.; tels. vice versa (nos. 28, conﬁdential, and 29), 6 and 8 Mar. 1901, FO 17/1487; see Otte, ‘ “Table-thumping” ’, 176. ¹⁰⁵ Lansdowne to Lascelles (no. 69A), 1 Mar. 1901, FO 244/596; Lansdowne to MacDonald (no. 22), 1 Mar. 1901, FO 46/538; tel. Hatzfeldt to Auswärtiges Amt (no. 175), 1 Mar. 1901, GP xvi, no. 4822. ¹⁰⁶ Tel. Hatzfeldt [i.e. Eckardstein] to Bülow (no. 44), 16 Feb. 1901, and marginal note by Bülow, n.d., GP xvi, no. 4817.

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alliance without wishing to pay for them. If Holstein thought that Manchuria was not worth the bones of a German marine, Bülow feared that Germany might be reduced to the diplomatic equivalent of King George’s Hessians: Britain would try ‘having her interests defended by a third party (preferably by us)’. London would rather pay compensation than ﬁght.¹⁰⁷ Lansdowne had nothing of the sort in mind. He regarded a joint démarche as a ﬁrst step towards further future cooperation. He had sufﬁcient reason for optimism. The Kaiser’s recent visit had left a positive impression on him. More recently, Lascelles had reported that ‘the Foreign Ofﬁce here . . . were in favour of a thoroughly good understanding’. Just two days before China’s appeal to the Powers, the Kaiser had waxed enthusiastic about ‘the Teutonic Nations holding together’, while observing that France was particularly dissatisﬁed with her ally’s special arrangement in China.¹⁰⁸ Such information encouraged Lansdowne in leaning towards a bolder stance in early March. On 4 March, Eckardstein gave a ﬁrst indication that Berlin was unlikely to fall in with Lansdowne’s plans. The agreement between Russia and China, he told Bertie, was a temporary modus vivendi. Eckardstein also explained that it had been established German policy ever since the outbreak of the Boxer troubles ‘that all affairs in regard to China should be settled by the concert of Powers and not directly by Cabinet to Cabinet, but by the Conference of Representatives at Peking’. By this means, the difﬁcult pending questions were approaching a satisfactory conclusion and Berlin did not intend to follow a different course in the present case. The Chinese government ought to apply to the Conference of Foreign Representatives for mediation.¹⁰⁹ This either blithely ignored the fact that the Sino-Russian convention had been arrived at outside the concert of the Powers; or else it was a hint that Berlin did not regard the future of Manchuria as part of the China Question. Eckardstein’s lukewarm statement notwithstanding, Lansdowne pressed ahead. In the afternoon of 4 March, without having elicited ﬁrm replies from Berlin or Tokyo, Lansdowne instructed Scott to inform Lamsdorff of British apprehensions that something more than a merely provisional arrangement for Manchuria was envisaged by the Russian government, and to ask for the actual text to be communicated by St Petersburg.¹¹⁰ It was a clear signal on ¹⁰⁷ Quotes from tels. Holstein to Hatzfeldt (privat), 1 Mar. 1901, and Bülow to Wilhelm II (no. 20), 6 Mar. 1901, GP xvi, no. 4821 and 25. ¹⁰⁸ Lascelles to Lansdowne (private), 22 Feb. 1901, Lascelles MSS, FO 800/18; and despatch (no. 48), 28 Mar. 1901, FO 64/1520. ¹⁰⁹ Memo. Bertie, 4 Mar. 1901, FO 17/1501; tel. Lansdowne to Lascelles (no. 62), 5 Mar. 1901, FO 64/1523. ¹¹⁰ Tel. Lansdowne to Scott (no. 54), 4 Mar. 1901, BD ii, no. 45.

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Lansdowne’s part that Britain would not remain passive in the Manchurian question. In making this move, the Foreign Secretary took the risk of a major escalation of the crisis into an open Anglo-Russian stand-off. Though Japan’s support could be counted upon, it placed Britain in an exposed position, especially since Germany’s position was far less certain. It is a matter of speculation whether Lansdowne had ﬁnally accepted Bertie’s repeated suggestions to force Berlin to declare its position in Chinese affairs, thereby revealing the value of the October agreement. Quite clearly the heightened crisis would not allow the German leadership to evade the issue for much longer. These steps are signiﬁcant for any interpretation of Lansdowne’s policy. That Lansdowne was willing to accept the risk of escalation is suggestive of the importance he accorded to the Manchurian issue. But it would also suggest that he would not allow Berlin to dictate his policy. St Petersburg reacted with obvious displeasure to Britain’s diplomatic intervention. Lamsdorff struck ‘a very indignant attitude’ during his two interviews with Scott. Russia’s military occupation of Manchuria would be terminated upon the restoration of ‘a normal condition of affairs in China’. Consequently, there was ‘no immediate necessity for pressing on China . . . a permanent engagement to ensure the better observance in the future of the obligations incurred to the Russian government and to the Russo-Chinese Railway’ under the 1898 agreements.¹¹¹ That was hardly a satisfactory, though not altogether unexpected, statement. Signiﬁcantly, Lamsdorff had left open the possibility of a more far-reaching arrangement in the future. The Russian foreign minister was clearly unsettled by Lansdowne’s intervention. When Scott returned to the Choristers’ Bridge on 7 March to read out Lansdowne’s note, Lamsdorff reacted ‘with considerable warmth’ to the demand for the actual text of the agreement to be communicated. Not unreasonably, he observed that it was incompatible with the character of an independent state to reveal details of conﬁdential negotiations with another government to a third party; he now raised the stakes. The Tsar ‘might ﬁnally lose patience’ at the persistent suspicions of Russia in Britain. The portent of this seemed to be that Nicholas II might yield to the demands of the Anglophobe military party in government circles, though Lamsdorff was careful to assure Scott that he himself would exert ‘a moderating inﬂuence’.¹¹² ¹¹¹ Quotes from Scott to Lansdowne (private), 7 Mar. 1901, Lansdowne MSS, FO 800/140; Scott to Lansdowne (no. 68, conﬁdential), 6 Mar. 1901, FO 65/1620. ¹¹² Tel. Scott to Lansdowne (no. 27), 7 Mar. 1901, BD ii, no. 48; tel. Lansdowne to Satow (no. 59), 8 Mar. 1901, FO 17/1482.

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Hamilton’s assessment of the latest developments reﬂected the views of many Cabinet ministers: ‘Our Russian friends are up to their old game in Manchuria, giving solemn assurances in one direction at St Petersburgh, and military ofﬁcers negotiating in the opposite sense and direction in Manchuria. Unfortunately the Emperor, who is weak and guileless, takes great offence when we press for written mem[orand]a of the verbal promises.’¹¹³ While Anglo-Russian relations had reached crisis point, Scott was able to relay what seemed more positive information regarding Germany’s attitude. The new German Ambassador at St Petersburg had given him to understand that Berlin regarded China ‘as very much a bankrupt who could not settle separately with one of his creditors and dispose of any part of his assets in his favour while the estate was under liquidation’.¹¹⁴ If Berlin acted in accordance with these views, the prospects for Lansdowne’s initiative would improve. Meanwhile, Satow wired a translation of the complete Chinese text of the Twelve Demands, which he had obtained from one of his informants in the Chinese capital. The agreement, Satow warned, gave Russia a veto over the appointment of high Chinese ofﬁcials; foreign military or naval advisers were not to be employed by the Chinese authorities; and Russian consent was necessary for any commercial concessions in the regions coterminous with Russia, thus laying ‘the foundation for future treatment of those districts in the same way as Manchuria’. Satow’s telegram conﬁrmed Lansdowne’s suspicions. The draft treaty was in breach of a series of Chinese treaty obligations to other Powers.¹¹⁵ The Foreign Secretary pressed ahead with his initiative. Germany, however, remained the key link in Lansdowne’s chain. Lansdowne was impressed by Eckardstein’s repeated statements that Japan was prepared to go to war with Russia, if Britain and Germany held the ring against France, and provided ‘that the spoils of victory would not again be snatched from her’. Lansdowne was not averse to such an arrangement. On 7 March, he and Sanderson informally suggested to Hatzfeldt the idea of a protocole de désintéressement on the basis of the Anglo-German October agreement. Lansdowne hinted that such a declaration would stiffen Japan’s opposition to Russian expansionism since it ruled out a repetition of the events of 1895. He enquired whether Germany would ¹¹³ Hamilton to Curzon (private), 6 Mar. 1901, Hamilton MSS, MSS. Eur.C.126/3. ¹¹⁴ Scott to Lansdowne (no. 71), 7 Mar. 1901, FO 65/1620; W. Frauendienst, ‘Graf Alvenslebens Petersburger Mission, 1900–1905’, BM x, 9 (1932), 884–5. ¹¹⁵ Tel. Satow to Lansdowne (no. 67), 6 Mar. 1901, BD ii, no. 47; see memo. Mallet, 15 Mar. 1901, FO 17/1502.

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join Britain, in the event of a Russo-Japanese war, in notifying France of their intention to remain neutral in order to localize the conﬂict; were France to join in the war, both Powers would have to reconsider their position. This was far-reaching. It ran counter to Bülow’s policy of the ‘free hand’ and only served to conﬁrm German suspicions of the incorrigible ways of British diplomacy: ‘The English should ﬁnally say what they themselves intend to do, instead of repeatedly asking others.’ A British guarantee to Japan to keep France neutral, ‘and a simple démarche of the English ambassador at Paris’ would be sufﬁcient for the purpose.¹¹⁶ Lansdowne’s approach ran counter also to the Wilhelmstrasse’s almost doctrinal conviction of an inevitable AngloRussian war in Asia. It revived Holstein’s suspicions: ‘Lord Salisbury’s spirit breathed through it all.’ Hatzfeldt was instructed to assure Lansdowne of Germany’s neutrality; but certain eventualities were regarded as purely academic for as long as the British government did not declare its position.¹¹⁷ While Lansdowne tried to win German support for his effort to localize the looming Russo-Japanese conﬂict, but before news of it had reached Berlin, Lascelles was told by Richthofen, now State Secretary, that Germany was ‘not so directly interested in Manchuria’ as Britain and Japan, and would remain in the background. He assured the Ambassador that ‘Germany would no doubt desire to second to some extent those two powers in China, but would probably leave [the] initiative, and indeed [the] greater part of any action . . . to them’.¹¹⁸ Simultaneously with Lansdowne’s moves to ratchet up diplomatic pressure on Russia, the situation in northern China grew more volatile. News ﬁltered through that, at the end of February, the British constable guarding the Newchwang consulate had been shot dead by Russian soldiers in hot pursuit of Chinese street vendors. At Tientsin, meanwhile, the Russian occupation forces remained difﬁcult to dislodge. Uchida, Satow’s Japanese colleague, learnt that the Russian minister was threatening Li Hung-chang with severing relations unless he signed the Manchurian agreement immediately.¹¹⁹ The combination of strong British diplomatic pressure on Russia, uncertain German support for mediation, Russia’s leaning heavily on Li, and the latest incidents at ¹¹⁶ Tel. Lansdowne to Lascelles (no. 67), 8 Mar. 1901, FO 64/1523; tel. Hatzfeldt to Auswärtiges Amt (no. 198), 8 Mar. 1901, and min. Bülow, 9 Mar., GP xvi, no. 4829; see Rich, Holstein ii, 637, who erroneously states that Bertie, not Sanderson, took part in the conversation. ¹¹⁷ Tel. Holstein to Eckardstein (privat), 9 Mar. 1901, Eckardstein, Lebenserinnerungen ii, 312; Vogel, Russlandpolitik, 118–24. ¹¹⁸ Tel. Lascelles to Lansdowne (no. 14), 7 Mar. 1901, FO 64/1524. ¹¹⁹ Fulford to Satow, 27 Feb. 1901, FO 17/1471; tel. Lansdowne to Lascelles (no. 68), 9 Mar. 1901, FO 244/596; see tel. Pichon to Delcassé (no. 73), 8 Mar. 1901, DDF (2) i, no. 130.

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Newchwang and Tientsin were potentially explosive. Still, Lascelles’s telegram no. 14 provided the clearest indication yet of Germany’s position. Lansdowne acknowledged the need ‘to proceed with extreme caution’. He had not abandoned his ambition for a closer alignment with Germany, but Berlin’s evident reluctance forced him to change tack. He did not abandon his initiative, nor did he compromise on its substance. He reverted to his earlier idea of a new international self-denying declaration by the Powers. If no satisfactory statement could be elicited from the Russian government, he proposed to invite Germany and the other Powers to join in a territorial, commercial, ﬁnancial, and political non-alienation guarantee of China. If Russia refused to accede to this declaration, Britain reserved all rights to which she was entitled by treaty ‘as well as a liberty to make any further requirements of China which may seem to us to be justiﬁed by circumstances’.¹²⁰ This was more limited than the informal localization proposal of 7 March. Nevertheless, Lansdowne maintained the pressure on Russia. Scott was instructed to communicate to Lamsdorff Satow’s treaty text in a deliberate move to signal Britain’s continued determination not to accept an agreement that affected British treaty rights. If, however, Li was circulating, as Lamsdorff had suggested earlier, ‘garbled versions’ of the convention, ‘it is surely reasonable that we should ask him [viz. Lamsdorff ] to help us in exposing the trick and putting the saddle on the right horse’.¹²¹ The Manchurian crisis had arrived at a crucial juncture. Lansdowne’s ‘reasonable’ request was a shrewd move. Lamsdorff would now either have to declare his hand, thereby possibly escalating the situation further, or he would have to disengage. The tentative Anglo-German dialogue, meanwhile, had reached a stalemate. Lansdowne would have to commit himself further than he had previously thought desirable, if he wished to ‘carry’ Germany. Before further steps could be taken, Japan made a forceful intervention in the crisis. Lansdowne had tended to treat Japan as a guaranteed, and therefore somewhat negligible, party to his neo-Dreibund. Now, Tokyo took a ﬁrm, almost militant line against Russia. Seeing vital Japanese interests at stake, the Itf government was prepared to take the lead in the Manchurian question. From late February onwards, Japan began to ﬂex her muscles. Peking was ¹²⁰ Tel. Lansdowne to Lascelles (no. 70), 9 Mar. 1901, FO 64/1523; see memo. Lansdowne, 15 Feb. 1901, FO 17/1500. ¹²¹ Tel. Lansdowne to Scott (no. 59), 9 Mar. 1901, FO 65/1624. The French also were dissatisﬁed with the Russian refusal to give more precise explanations, see Delcassé to Montebello (no. 69), 6 Mar. 1901, and vice versa (no. 21, conﬁdentiel ), 12 Mar. 1901, DDF (2) i, nos. 124 and 135.

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assured of Japanese support under any circumstances, and the Japanese ﬂeet was concentrated in ports along the country’s western coast. MacDonald reported that ‘[p]ractically no further mobilization of the Japanese ﬂeet [was] necessary to enable it to undertake immediate hostilities’.¹²² Japan was ready to move well in advance of the other Powers. In this, however, she received some encouragement from Germany. Until the beginning of March, ofﬁcial German policy in regard to Manchurian affairs had been clear and consistent. It was well understood in foreign capitals that Germany would not put relations with Russia at risk over Manchuria. Yet, on 9 March, Hayashi communicated to Lansdowne a statement by Richard von Mühlberg, the Deputy Under-Secretary at the Auswärtiges Amt, to Kurino Shinichirf, the Japanese minister at Berlin, according to which Germany would observe ‘benevolent neutrality’ in the event of a Russo-Japanese conﬂict. Mühlberg was said to have added that ‘this attitude will keep the French ﬂeet in check, while England will probably support Japan’. The statement seemed to indicate some form of prior Anglo-German policy coordination and Hayashi, therefore, enquired whether Tokyo could rely on British support ‘in case Japan ﬁnds it necessary to approach Russia’.¹²³ Hayashi’s communication raised a number of questions. If ‘approach’ meant resisting Russia, then this entailed the distinct possibility of war, Bertie and Salisbury warned.¹²⁴ At the same time, it was not clear whether Berlin’s attitude had really changed, as Mühlberg’s intimation seemed to imply. After all, the British government had not been informed directly of any change. Finally, as the terms of the Franco-Russian alliance were unknown, there was uncertainty as to France’s likely position in the event of a war.¹²⁵ Lansdowne cautioned Hayashi that so far Berlin had been adamant that German interests in Manchuria were not such as to warrant the risk of war with Russia. Moreover, keeping the French ﬂeet in check ‘could scarcely be described as neutral’.¹²⁶ Once again, he turned to Germany for clariﬁcation. His predicament was obvious. A ﬁrm line against Russia was more effective if supported by Germany; and the ¹²² Tel. MacDonald to Lansdowne (no. 9), 18 Mar. 1901, FO 46/542; Boissière to Lanessan (conﬁdentiel ), 10 Mar. 1901, DDF (2) i, no. 133; I. H. Nish, The Origins of the Russo-Japanese War (London, 2nd edn. 1987), 101–4. ¹²³ Note Hayashi to Lansdowne, 9 Mar. 1901, BD ii, no. 51. For a different view of German policy, see Young, British Policy, 289. ¹²⁴ Mins. Bertie and Salisbury, n.d. [9 or 10 Mar. 1901], ibid. ¹²⁵ Tel. Lansdowne to Monson (no. 27), 8 Mar. 1901, ibid., no. 40; see Sanderson to Lascelles (private), 27 Mar. 1901, Lascelles MSS, FO 800/10. ¹²⁶ Lansdowne to MacDonald (no. 27), 16 Mar. 1901, FO 46/538 (the interview with Hayashi took place on 10 March); Monger, End of Isolation, 26.

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risk of conﬂict could only be contained through Germany’s assumed deterrent effect on Russia. Conversely, acquiescing in Russian machinations in Manchuria risked alienating Japan. In that case, Tokyo would turn to Russia to seek a direct accommodation of the pending questions; as a result Britain would be isolated in East Asia and in Europe. Hayashi’s enquiry triggered a ﬂurry of activity in Whitehall. Sanderson, the personiﬁcation of the old ‘Foreign Ofﬁce mind’, urged caution. Since the SinoJapanese War, he argued, the Germans had constantly acted against British interests in China: ‘They are now encouraging the Japanese to go to war with Russia by promising Japan our assistance, and their own attitude is apparently to be that of Mr. Ben Allen and Mr. Bob Sawyer dancing round the combatants and ready to bleed whichever is ﬁrst stunned.’ Whilst the opportunistic nature of German diplomacy could not be doubted, there was no reliable information on the precise nature of the demands Japan proposed to make on Russia, or on the measures she would take, if those demands were rejected. France’s attitude would depend on these points: ‘We do not know the terms of the FrancoRussian alliance, nor whether they are limited to complications with European Powers. But in any case they probably turn upon the question whether either party is attacked by one or more Powers.’ Britain had to avoid being dragged into a war by Japan. Even if British neutrality were to ensure that of France, there were still ‘some very embarrassing questions’. In the event of a war, Russia might attempt to force the closed Straits of Constantinople in an effort to move her ‘boxed up’ Black Sea ﬂeet to the main theatre of war. This indicated the difﬁculties of localizing a Far Eastern conﬂict. Sanderson was pessimistic about ‘little’ Japan’s prospects in a war with Russia. Even if she emerged victorious from what promised to be a prolonged struggle, Russia would break the postwar settlement as soon as she was strong enough to do so. Comparing the capabilities of the two potential combatants, Sanderson concluded that the ‘effort of a war would be to weaken Japan more permanently than Russia’. Britain and Japan, then, had to look to diplomacy and a ‘bloodless success’.¹²⁷ Sanderson’s analysis reﬂected the difﬁculties which the latest phase of the China Question posed for Britain. There could be no war by proxy with Russia, using Japan as Britain’s cat’s-paw. Bertie was less cautious than Sanderson. Japan would go to war, provided Britain and Germany ensured French neutrality and the localization of the conﬂict. If, however, the two Powers failed to compel France to stay neutral, ¹²⁷ Sanderson to Lansdowne (private), 10 Mar. 1901, Lansdowne MSS, FO 800/119.

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and the Franco-Russian combination defeated Japan, Berlin would seek to join the victors. The 1895 triplice would re-emerge, and ‘become supreme in China, and we should go to the wall’. A defeated Japan, rescued from complete obliteration by a last-minute British intervention, would offer no help against Russian expansion. Such intervention would lead to the further deterioration of relations with the Franco-Russe. However, if France could be neutralized, Japan’s chances of victory over Russia were good. A Russian defeat, Bertie calculated, would be to Britain’s advantage for, as Sanderson predicted, Russia was not likely to accept defeat permanently. In consequence, there would be no post-war Russo-Japanese détente; Russian energies would be directed towards the Far East; and this would counteract Japanese expansionism: ‘The yellow danger would be kept in check by Russia, and the Russians by Japan.’ Bertie’s stratagem was characteristic of the neo-Bismarckian tendencies among the ‘Edwardian’ generation. Still, he made the not unreasonable point that, if Britain failed to give some support to Japan, ‘we may drive her to a policy of despair’ and Tokyo might make terms with Russia.¹²⁸ In that case, Britain would be isolated in the Far East, and British interests would suffer accordingly. At Berlin, senior German diplomats were back-tracking. Although the Wilhelmstrasse would have welcomed a Russo-Japanese war, it was clear that Mühlberg’s statement could be construed as encouraging Japan to start it. Richthofen retracted his deputy’s remarks, and insisted that Germany, though wishing to see Russian encroachments stopped, would take no active steps in the Manchurian crisis. Richthofen’s retraction came as no surprise to Lascelles. Berlin, he warned Bertie, would not clarify its position ‘until we let them know exactly what we mean to do’. The ambassador doubted that the Germans would ‘take an actively hostile line against Russia, but they would not be sorry to see them get a lesson’.¹²⁹ Lascelles’s reading of the German attitude was conﬁrmed by a private conversation with Richthofen on 10 March. In the course of their talk, the head of the Auswärtiges Amt complained of the repeated requests for Berlin to declare its position, while London remained reluctant to indicate its line of policy. The Ambassador concluded that the German government was ‘only too anxious to ﬁnish the Chinese business as soon as possible, and that they would be only too glad to clear out of the country when they obtained the [indemnity] money they asked’.¹³⁰ ¹²⁸ Memo. Bertie, 11 Mar. 1901, BD ii, no. 54. ¹²⁹ Lascelles to Bertie, 9 Mar. 1901, Bertie MSS, Add.MSS. 63014; tel. Lascelles to Lansdowne (no. 16), 10 Mar. 1901, BD ii, no. 52; Vogel, Russlandpolitik, 105–6. ¹³⁰ Lascelles to Lansdowne (private), 10 Mar. 1901, Lansdowne MSS, FO 800/128.

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Lascelles’s interview played a key role in the development of Lansdowne’s calculations. The Foreign Secretary resolved to make one further attempt at establishing closer ties with Germany. On 12 March, he circulated a draft joint Anglo-German declaration, for discussion in Cabinet. It acknowledged that in the current Asian dispute British and German interests were not sufﬁciently affected to justify ‘material assistance’ to the Chinese Government in its efforts to resist Russian pressure to conclude a Manchurian agreement. But the draft declaration was aimed at future contingencies rather than the present crisis. The two Powers were to declare their recognition ‘that the vital interests of Japan are . . . seriously jeopardized’ by Russia’s Manchurian ambitions. Thus, in the event of Russo-Japanese hostilities, Britain and Germany would coordinate their policies to limit as far as possible the extent of the war, and to that end they would remain neutral, reserving, however, to themselves absolute freedom of action should the course of events require them, in their own interests, to intervene on behalf of Japan. In the event, however, of any Power joining Russia in hostilities against Japan, the British and German Governments will give naval assistance to Japan to defend herself against such attack.

Lansdowne concluded that by inviting Germany to join Britain in making the secret ‘declaration’ to Japan, it would be possible ‘to elicit from Germany a distinct statement of her intentions’.¹³¹ In practical terms, the document envisaged a two-point programme. The ﬁrst, a commitment to localize any Russo-Japanese conﬂict, had formed the basis of his enquiry of 8 March. The second point, a defensive commitment to Japan in the event of a two-Power attack upon her, was more far-reaching. In the established scholarly consensus, Lansdowne’s projected Anglo-German declaration marked a ﬁrst departure from Salisbury’s assumed policy of isolation. A closer examination of the contents of the declaration and its wider context suggests a more subtle and nuanced approach by Lansdowne. Certainly, the draft declaration provided for ‘joint war-like action in a stipulated situation’.¹³² But it was not a draft alliance with Germany. This confuses Lansdowne’s project with Eckardstein’s benignly duplicitous initiative a few days later. The draft terms of Lansdowne’s declaration envisaged a geographically clearly limited ¹³¹ Memo. Lansdowne, 12 Mar. 1901, FO 46/547 (circulated to Cabinet, CAB 37/56/30). ¹³² Grenville’s assessment, idem, ‘Lansdowne’s Abortive Project’, 210. For the orthodox interpretation, idem, Lord Salisbury, 340; Monger, End of Isolation, 27; also J. Charmley, Splendid Isolation?: Britain, the Balance of Power and the Origins of the First World War (London, 1999), 283–4.

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Anglo-German defence pact in aid of Japan. The stipulated ‘naval assistance’ in the event of an attack by two Powers on Japan was sufﬁciently vague so as not to bind Britain to a deﬁnite course of action. Furthermore, given the embryonic size of the German navy even after the 1898 Navy Act, and Ardagh’s observations on the ﬁnancial obstacles blocking further German naval expansion, Germany’s contribution to such ‘naval assistance’ would be limited.¹³³ Germany’s joining of the declaration, then, was of largely political value. In light of previous diplomatic exchanges between London, Berlin, and Tokyo, Lansdowne’s project is best described as a regional entente à deux, ostensibly to preserve Japan from being crushed by a Franco-Russian onslaught, but implicitly also in defence of the status quo in northern China. It incorporated not only Lansdowne’s own localization scheme, but evolved from Salisbury’s tentative idea of an Anglo-Japanese entente in defence of the littoral of northern China and Korea. Bertie’s argument in favour of strong support for Japan with a view to creating and managing a new Asiatic balance of power, based upon the Russo-Japanese antagonism, had also left its mark. All three elements were compatible. To interpret Lansdowne’s diplomacy in March 1901 in this fashion is not merely a question of detail. It goes to the very heart of the problem of ‘isolation’. Rather than marking a clear break with Salisburian precepts, Lansdowne’s draft declaration underlined a strong strand of continuity between their policies. Where Salisbury and Lansdowne differed, of course, was in their assessment of the value of Germany’s cooperation. Lansdowne’s self-professed bias in favour of an Anglo-German rapprochement in itself does not explain why he proposed a renewed approach to Berlin. Superﬁcially, it seems somewhat out of character with his usually cautious and slow diplomacy.¹³⁴ Important here is the nature of the information at Lansdowne’s disposal, and the chronological sequence in which it was received. This requires close and detailed analysis. On 8 March, Eckardstein suggested that Japan would probably go to war with Russia over Korea and Manchuria, provided that Britain and Germany kept France neutral and so prevented a repetition of 1895. Two days later, Lascelles reported Richthofen’s ofﬁcial clariﬁcation of the German position, but also transmitted Kurino’s statement that there was no immediate prospect of war in the Far East. Privately, Lascelles ¹³³ See Ardagh to Sanderson, 8 Nov. 1900, HD3/119. ¹³⁴ For a representative view see Grenville, ‘Lansdowne’s Abortive Project’, 211–12. Eckardstein’s role was one factor. He was still regarded as reliable, see min. Edward VII, n.d. [early Mar. 1902], on Lascelles to Lansdowne (private), 28 Feb. 1902, Lansdowne MSS, FO 800/129.

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informed Bertie at the same time that Germany would remain passive ‘until we let them know exactly what we mean to do’.¹³⁵ Eckardstein returned to Downing Street on 11 March. Purporting to have private information from Bülow, he declared that though Germany had no ‘special interest in Manchuria itself, . . . [Bülow] had never said anything which could lead to the supposition that the Manchurian question was a matter which concerned Russia and China alone’.¹³⁶ This did not differ substantially from Richthofen’s statements to Lascelles on two earlier occasions. Both Richthofen and Eckardstein had made clear that German interests were not signiﬁcantly affected by the Russian proceedings in Manchuria; but both had given to understand that Berlin wished to see Russia’s aggression halted.¹³⁷ Lansdowne, then, could not exclude from his calculations the possibility that Richthofen’s and Eckardstein’s communications were indirect enquiries as to Britain’s attitude. Crucially, the former in particular had repeatedly complained that it was ‘rather hard that the German Government should be asked to declare their attitude while H[is] M[ajesty’s] G[overnment] declined to give any indication of the line they intended to pursue’. In the draft declaration of 12 March Lansdowne proposed to do precisely that. By giving this indication, he hoped to ‘elicit . . . a distinct statement of [their] intentions’.¹³⁸ Moreover, if Kurino was correct in his prediction that there was no imminent danger of war, then Berlin was more likely to join Britain in a purely diplomatic manoeuvre. Lansdowne’s draft declaration of 12 March was not an abortive alliance project; it was an attempt to forge a new Far Eastern triplice accord in defence of the status quo, but without entangling obligations. The timing of any approach to Berlin was crucial and Lansdowne was determined to move swiftly. His draft declaration was brought before the Cabinet on 13 March. Mistrustful of Wilhelmine diplomacy Salisbury was ‘very much ag[ain]st getting tied to Germany’.¹³⁹ His opposition was based on further considerations, as set out in a detailed memorandum by his son and Lansdowne’s Parliamentary Under-Secretary, Viscount Cranborne. He admitted the political ¹³⁵ Lascelles to Bertie (private), 9 Mar. 1900, Bertie MSS, Add.MSS. 63014; tels. Lansdowne to Lascelles (no. 67), 8 Mar. 1901, FO 64/1523, and vice versa (no. 16), 10 Mar. 1901, BD ii, no. 42. ¹³⁶ Tel. Lansdowne to Lascelles (no. 71), 11 Mar. 1901, FO 244/596 (author’s emphasis). ¹³⁷ Tel. Lascelles to Lansdowne (no. 14), 7 March 1901, FO 64/1524; and (private), 10 Mar. 1901, Landsowne MSS, FO 800/128; and tel. vice versa (no. 71), 11 Mar. 1901, FO 244/596, need to be read in conjunction. ¹³⁸ Memo. Lansdowne, 12 Mar. 1901, FO 46/547. For Richthofen’s complaint see Lascelles to Lansdowne (private), 10 Mar. 1901, Lansdowne MSS, FO 800/128; and vice versa (private), 18 Mar. 1901, Lascelles MSS, FO 800/10. ¹³⁹ Brodrick to Selborne (private), 13 Mar. 1901, Selborne MSS, Selborne 26.

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gravity of the Manchurian crisis, but was sceptical about Japan’s military capabilities: Should Japan get the worst of it in the campaign our position would become materially and morally damaging and we might be forced to interfere, though still unready, in order to avoid intolerable political inferiority in China. I conclude therefore that in the last resort we must take steps to induce Japan for the moment not to go to war.

Ultimately, a Russo-Japanese war was inevitable. Britain ought ‘to keep the ring . . . in order to prevent war until our hands are free’—a reference to Britain’s ongoing South African entanglements. In return, he urged Lansdowne to obtain from Tokyo an undertaking that it would ‘have regard to our convenience’ when choosing to go to war.¹⁴⁰ Cranborne’s memorandum was more a deftly executed sketch of Britain’s Far Eastern problems than a constructive attempt at their solution, to some extent anticipating the substance of the later debate on the merits of a Japanese alliance. It underlined also that, as long as the South African war continued, Britain could not take the risk of conﬂict in a second, geographically more remote theatre. The cabinet was divided. Unable to agree on a deﬁnite policy, the ministers decided to defer any further discussion on this matter. Lascelles was instructed to enquire at Berlin as to the precise meaning of Germany’s ‘benevolent neutrality’.¹⁴¹ The reply was not encouraging: the German government would observe the ‘strictest and most correct neutrality towards all parties’.¹⁴² This left little room for doubt. German cooperation could not be had in the event of a Far Eastern war. If any further evidence was needed of Germany’s attitude, Bülow’s Reichstag speech of 15 March provided it. The Anglo-German October agreement, he declared, had been concluded with a view to commercial interests only, and it ‘was in no sense concerned with Manchuria’. Indeed, ‘the fate of that province was a matter of absolute indifference to Germany’. Bülow denied the existence of an ‘acute or irreconcilable antagonism’ with Russia in China; but also stressed the ‘community of interests with other Powers [viz. other than Russia] ¹⁴⁰ Memo. Cranborne, ‘Our Policy in Manchuria’, 13 Mar. 1901, Lansdowne MSS, Lans (5) 34. ¹⁴¹ Salisbury to Edward VII, 13 Mar. 1901, CAB 41/26/5; tel. Lansdowne to Lascelles (no. 73), 13 Mar. 1901, FO 64/1523; J. M. Goudswaard, Some Aspects of the End of Britain’s ‘Splendid Isolation’, 1898–1904 (Rotterdam, 1952), 72–3. Salisbury’s reference to Lansdowne’s proposal as ‘an alliance’ ought not to be taken too literally—he tended to use the term loosely, see Salisbury to Queen Victoria, 10 June 1890, LQV (3) i, 613. ¹⁴² Tel. Lascelles to Lansdowne (no. 17), 14 Mar. 1901, FO 64/1524.

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made cooperation with those Powers desirable’.¹⁴³ It was a typically Bülowite act of equivocation, aiming to placate both Britain and Russia by applying a large dose of verbal bromide. Bülow’s public disclaimer extinguished any remaining hopes of containing Russia in Asia in cooperation with Germany. Privately, Lansdowne confessed that he had always doubted that Berlin would join Britain in supporting Japan against Russia, but thought that: our action can be justiﬁed. We are in the ﬁrst place sincerely desirous of keeping step with Germany so far as we are able; in the next place our South African entanglements make it impossible for us to commit ourselves to any obligation which might involve us in war, unless we can assure ourselves that any obligation which we might incur would be shared by another Power, and thirdly, it seemed to us absolutely necessary that we should know whether the Japanese Minister had correctly understood what was said to him as to the ‘benevolent neutrality’ of Germany.¹⁴⁴

Lansdowne’s second point was an admission of the limitations, which isolation had placed upon Britain’s ability to project her power; it did not imply an intention to break with Salisbury’s diplomacy. Lansdowne’s policy was now complicated by Eckardstein’s alliance proposal. In the course of their interview of 18 March, the Foreign Secretary expressed his regret that the Bülow speech had put an end to the notion of an AngloGerman combination ‘for the purpose of “keeping the ring” for Russia and Japan’. The Baron conﬁrmed that Berlin was unlikely to enter into an arrangement ‘solely with reference to the present situation in China’ but hinted that ‘the idea of an understanding of a more durable and extended character’ would be received more favourably. Eckardstein pursued the point further, and entered into the discussion the idea of ‘purely defensive alliance between the two Powers directed solely against France and Russia’. Lansdowne reacted cautiously. Germany’s long frontier with Russia left her vulnerable to pressure by her eastern neighbour. Eckardstein’s proposal was ‘novel’ and ‘very farreaching’, and therefore required careful consideration by the Cabinet. In fact, Eckardstein’s projected alliance went further than Lansdowne was prepared to go. His abortive Anglo-German declaration, of which Eckardstein was ignorant, was strictly limited in its geographical scope. Eckardstein now suggested an ¹⁴³ Lascelles to Lansdowne (no. 69), 16 Mar. 1901, FO 64/1520. Bülow had hinted to the French that Germany was largely interested in the Yangtze commerce; and that in northern China ‘les Russes peuvent faire ce qu’ils veulent’, tel. Noailles to Delcassé (no. 25), 6 Feb. 1901, DDF (2) i, no. 69. ¹⁴⁴ Lansdowne to Lascelles (private), 18 Mar. 1901, Lascelles MSS, FO 800/10; Newton, Lansdowne, 199–200.

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arrangement which ‘entail[ed] the adoption of an identic foreign policy by both Powers in all their external relations’. The foreign problems of one of the two parties ‘might drag the other into the quarrel’.¹⁴⁵ These were hardly the sentiments of a man eager to break with ‘isolation’. Privately, Lansdowne doubted ‘whether much will come of this’. He was suspicious of Eckardstein’s motives. Previously, the German diplomat had repeatedly suggested that Britain and Germany ‘might . . . egg on Japan to ﬁght’ while keeping France neutral. Now he had dropped that idea, and introduced the notion of ‘a defensive alliance, limited in duration to, say, ﬁve years’. The necessary coordination of policies, Lansdowne observed, would ‘oblige us to adopt . . . a policy which would no longer be British but AngloGerman’.¹⁴⁶ Despite Eckardstein’s assurances that his suggestions were entirely private, Lansdowne suspected that he had been sent by Bülow to sound him out.¹⁴⁷ Lascelles conﬁrmed him in this assessment and referred Lansdowne to one of his own conversations with the Kaiser in December 1898, in which Wilhelm had developed the idea of an ‘arrangement’ with Britain.¹⁴⁸ In this, Ambassador and Foreign Secretary were mistaken. Eckardstein had been ﬁrmly instructed not to enter into a discussion of an alliance but, impressed by the frequently expressed doubts about an isolationist policy, he had decided to bring about an Anglo-German alliance by means of an amateurish plot. He hoped to convince each of London and Berlin that the other side was anxious to conclude an alliance treaty. Through this stratagem he desired to bring movement into the matter. Lansdowne was careful not to discourage Eckardstein, largely because of ‘the quarter in which it [viz. the proposal] probably originated’.¹⁴⁹ Having failed to win German cooperation in his efforts to contain Russia in northern China, Lansdowne had to cast about for other means. The heightened tension between Japan and Russia, Hamilton observed, had made the international outlook ‘disturbing and restless’, and Lansdowne’s intervention in the Manchurian crisis had added to the tension: ‘We have already strained our relations with the Russian Government, and Scott certainly with Lamsdorff by pressing for explanations, and by constantly addressing to them ¹⁴⁵ Memo. Lansdowne, 18 Mar. 1901, FO 64/1655. ¹⁴⁶ Lansdowne to Lascelles (private), 18 Mar. 1901, Lascelles MSS, FO 800/10. ¹⁴⁷ Memo. Lansdowne, 18 Mar. 1901, FO 64/1655. ¹⁴⁸ Lascelles to Lansdowne (private), 23 Mar. 1901, Lansdowne MSS, FO 800/128; see Lascelles to Salisbury (no. 338, very conﬁdential), 21 Dec. 1898, FO 64/1439. ¹⁴⁹ Lansdowne to Lascelles (private), 1 Apr. 1901, Lascelles MSS, FO 800/10; Otte, ‘ “Winston of Germany” ’, 491.

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strong remonstrances.’¹⁵⁰ Seizing on Bülow’s Reichstag speech, Lamsdorff now sought to block any further British interference, anxious that even a hint of British support might encourage the Chinese to resist. The German ambassador, Lamsdorff informed Scott, had stated that Berlin ‘had no concern in the matter’. Insisting on the speedy conclusion of the draft convention, he explained that ‘for the present’ the Peking authorities ought not to grant fresh concessions to foreigners in Manchuria. This was necessary for ‘the prevention of disturbances and [the] protection of the frontier’. It was a last attempt on Lamsdorff ’s part to bring the matter to a close on Russia’s terms. Anxious to de-escalate the crisis, he gave Scott ample assurances that the Twelve Demands did not violate existing British treaty rights. This assurance, and the stipulation that no concessions were to be granted to foreigners, if applicable to Russians as well as other nationalities, was signiﬁcant.¹⁵¹ It held out the prospect of a direct arrangement with St Petersburg to settle the Manchurian dispute. Russian efforts at Peking to pressurize the Chinese authorities into ratifying the Ts’êng–Alekse’ev agreement had also reached a dead-end. Satow continued to bolster Chinese resistance by hinting at support by the maritime Powers, Britain, Japan, and the United States, and possibly Germany.¹⁵² Satow’s remonstrances helped to stiffen Chinese resistance. In fact, the Manchurian crisis now edged towards its dénouement. Heartened by Satow’s and Lansdowne’s advice that the ‘strength of the Chinese government is to sit still’, the Tsungli Yamên refused to sign the modiﬁed agreement. In a last attempt to ram home its temporary advantage before international and Chinese opposition became insurmountable, St Petersburg moderated its demands further. ¹⁵³ Lamsdorff ’s conciliatory tone to Scott on 18 March and the moderation of Russia’s Manchurian demands encouraged Lansdowne to restrain Russia by more direct means. Preparatory to any such move, Bertie circulated the latest draft of the Sino-Russian agreement for fresh analysis. Augustus Oakes, the Foreign Ofﬁce Librarian and chief compiler of the British State Papers, noted the obvious circumstance that, while Russian inﬂuence was likely to become ¹⁵⁰ Hamilton to Curzon (private), 15 Mar. 1901, Hamilton MSS, MSS.Eur.C.126/3; Neilson, Last Tsar, 217. ¹⁵¹ Scott to Lansdowne (no. 83), 18 Mar. 1901, and min. Lansdowne, n.d., FO 65/1620; Izvolsky to Lamsdorff (no. 12), 12/24 Mar. 1901, Yerukhomovich (ed.), ‘Russko-yaponskoi voyna’, 19–21; Romanov, Russia in Manchuria, 216–17. ¹⁵² Satow to Lansdowne (no. 110, conﬁdential), 21 Mar. 1901, FO 17/1471; see Tan, Boxer Catastrophe, 188–9. ¹⁵³ Tels. Satow to Lansdowne (no. 73), 17 Mar. 1901, FO 17/1484, and vice versa (no. 74), 20 Mar. 1901, FO 17/1482. For a detailed discussion, see Otte, ‘ “Table-Thumping” ’, 175–7.

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dominant in Manchuria, the agreement did not diminish existing British treaty rights, especially since Britain had waived such rights in Manchuria in the Scott–Muravev agreement.¹⁵⁴ Ardagh placed the Manchurian agreement in the wider context of Russia’s expansionist drive in Asia, which presently focused on acquiring a permanent outlet along the Gulf of Pechili. Like Oakes, the DMI concluded that, as a result of the 1899 Anglo-Russian agreement, ‘[p]otentially, though not nominally, Manchuria became a protected province in which Russia was empowered to maintain military forces’. Military occupation would turn Manchuria into a Russian province, which he was inclined to accept as inevitable; but the agreement was inadmissible since China was ‘in liquidation, any separate assignment of assets to a particular creditor . . . would in bankruptcy be fraudulent and void’. Britain ought to insist on small amendments to the existing draft, but also demand the wholesale excision of provisions which allowed Russia to claim exclusive rights on the Chinese side of the Himalayas. It would be dangerous, Ardagh warned, ‘to leave the frontier between India and China in an undeﬁned and liquid state’.¹⁵⁵ With this ﬁnal observation, the DMI’s analysis underlined the manifold challenges which the China Question posed for Britain. Equipped with such advice, and bearing in mind the recent moderation in Russia’s position, Lansdowne refrained from pressing her further. It would be politic, he decided, not to be ‘petulant about Manchuria’. Its ‘ “gravitation” ’ towards Russia had been recognized by Britain in 1899; and his earlier steps during the crisis had had as their objective ‘to dissuade China [from]entering into surreptitious bargains “in fraudem creditorum” ’. Overall, a direct arrangement with St Petersburg seemed possible: ‘With a little bonne volonté & mutual confidence the whole affair ought to be capable of settlement’, he concluded.¹⁵⁶There were indications that the Russians would not go to extremes, even if Peking refused to sign the agreement. As a conﬁdence-building measure, Lansdowne gave a statement on the government’s China policy in the House of Lords on 28 March, praising Lamsdorff ’s language as ‘most correct and . . . satisfactory’. Hinting that the rumoured agreement might be either a ‘ballon d’essai launched by ambitious local [viz. Russian] ofﬁcials’ or a Chinese fabrication, he urged his Russian colleague to communicate the text of the Manchurian convention. This he combined with an assurance that Britain would not object to ¹⁵⁴ Memo. Oakes, 21 Mar. 1901, FO 17/1502. ¹⁵⁵ Memo. Ardagh, 23 Mar. 1901, ibid. ¹⁵⁶ Lansdowne to Scott (private), 26 Mar. 1901, Scott MSS, Add.MSS. 52297.

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a temporary Sino-Russian arrangement, provided it did not derogate from British treaty rights. Lansdowne also used the speech to minimize the apparent differences between London and Berlin regarding the correct interpretation of the Anglo-German China agreement.¹⁵⁷ This was also a golden bridge for Lamsdorff over which to retreat. On 29 March, Eckardstein returned to Downing Street. Misled by Eckardstein’s report on the interview of 18 March, Bülow was irritated by Lansdowne’s apparently ‘purely academic’ raising of the alliance question, and instructed the embassy to suggest British adherence to the Triple Alliance as the most practical step. As Hatzfeldt was still ill, it fell again to Eckardstein to carry this out. The Baron’s plot was beginning to unravel. He had tried to convince both Lansdowne and Bülow that the other was anxious for a defensive alliance. Not unnaturally, Downing Street and Wilhelmstrasse now awaited the production by the other side of something more tangible than the generalities of 18 March. None were forthcoming, and Eckardstein risked being found out. From his perspective, the encounter with Lansdowne on 29 March was hardly promising. The Foreign Secretary explained that Salisbury’s attitude to the proposal ‘was one of caution’. He admitted that some ministers were in favour of working with Germany, but that they were apprehensive at the ‘somewhat indeﬁnite but very far-reaching’ arrangement Eckardstein had proposed. As during their previous meeting, Lansdowne enquired further as to the modalities of the casus belli, without eliciting a more precise response.¹⁵⁸ Lansdowne was opposed to any ‘far-reaching arrangements’, but also viewed Eckardstein’s proposals as impracticable: ‘It will be difﬁcult to make anything of the proposal.’ Sanderson was doubtful about the Baron’s ‘informal negotiations. They smack . . . of a certain impulsiveness characteristic of the sovereign rather than . . . [Bülow].’¹⁵⁹ The suspected origin of the initiative in Imperial quarters was the only reason for Lansdowne’s assurance to Eckardstein that his suggestions ‘had not been regarded with indifference’.¹⁶⁰ Two factors in combination reinforced Lansdowne’s cautious response to Eckardstein’s overture. Firstly, war over Manchuria seemed less likely. On 3 April, the Tsar impressed upon Scott his desire ‘to avoid any serious disagreement’ and ¹⁵⁷ PD (4) xcii (1901), cols. 15–29; Lascelles to Scott (private), 29 Mar. 1901, Scott MSS, Add.MSS. 52302; Neilson, Last Tsar, 217. For a snapshot of the state of British opinion, Cambon to Delcassé (no. 99), 30 Mar. 1901, DDF (2) i, no. 162. ¹⁵⁸ Memo. Lansdowne, 29 Mar. 1901, FO 64/1655; tel. Lansdowne to Lascelles (no. 110A), BD ii, no. 79; see tel. Bülow to Hatzfeldt (no. 154, geheim), 24 Mar. 1901, GP xvii, no. 4998. ¹⁵⁹ Quotes from Lansdowne to Lascelles (private), 1 Apr., and Sanderson to Lascelles (private), 27 Mar. 1901, Lascelles MSS, FO 800/10. ¹⁶⁰ Memo. Lansdowne, 29 Mar. 1901, FO 64/1655.

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Baron Georg Aleksandrovich Graevenitz, the counsellor at the Russian embassy in London, informed Lansdowne that Russia no longer insisted on the conclusion of the Manchurian agreement, and indeed declined ‘any further pourparlers on this subject’. The Messager Ofﬁciel, the Russian government’s gazette, published a similar disclaimer on the following day.¹⁶¹ Russia’s diplomatic offensive had ground to a halt. Lansdowne was satisﬁed at the collapse of ‘the obnoxious Manchurian agreement’, though he entertained no illusions of a Russian conversion of Damascene proportions: ‘They will no doubt contrive to make themselves as disagreeable as possible, and I do not regard the incident as by any means disposing satisfactorily of the question. But it is something that they have been prevented from making a “backstairs” arrangement with China to our detriment.’ He attributed the relative success of British diplomacy to Japan’s cooperation, British support for the Peking and Yangtze authorities as well as to Germany’s attitude. As regarded the Yangtze viceroys, Lansdowne noted that In the tumultuous times which are ahead of us in China we shall . . . have to depend a great deal upon them. They control the civil & military administration of the most important parts of China. If there is a break-up of the [Chinese] Empire we shall want them . . . If the Empire holds together, they are the only men who can promote essential reforms.¹⁶²

Russian diplomacy appeared to be in full retreat, as Sanderson noted: ‘It looks at present as if the Russians would be good-tempered over their failure to rush the Manchurian Agreement through, though I have no doubt they will do this but to pay the Chinese out in the end.’¹⁶³ By mid-April, Lamsdorff gave effusive professions of amiability, and explained that ‘there ought to be no apparent antagonism’ between the two countries. All conﬂicts of interest could be ‘easily reconciled’ and the recent crisis was merely the result of misunderstandings. Furthermore, the Russian foreign minister indicated that ‘a thorough understanding’ with Britain regarding China would be in the interest of both governments.¹⁶⁴ Whatever the merits of Lamsdorff ’s professed sentiments, with his decision to disengage in early April, the moment of immediate danger had passed. ¹⁶¹ Quotes from Scott to Lansdowne (private), 4 Apr. 1901, Lansdowne MSS, FO 800/140; and tel. vice versa (no. 92), 5 Apr. 1901, FO 65/1624; also Delcassé to Pichon (no. 83), 5 Apr. 1901, DDF (2) i, no. 174. ¹⁶² Lansdowne to Hicks Beach (private), 7 Apr. 1901, Hicks Beach MSS, PCC/84. ¹⁶³ Sanderson to Satow (private), 12 Apr. 1901, Satow MSS, PRO 30/33/7/1. ¹⁶⁴ Scott to Lansdowne (no. 110, very conﬁdential), 17 Apr. 1901, FO 65/1620.

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The second factor, which inﬂuenced Lansdowne’s cautious response, was the fact that Russia’s withdrawal of the draft agreement had implications for Anglo-German relations. Lansdowne had sought Berlin’s support for joint action in the Far East. Russia’s climb-down, in turn, diminished the need for such cooperation. This consideration weighed heavily with Lansdowne. Bülow’s tergiversations on the interpretation of the October agreement, moreover, made a lasting impression on him. In his Reichstag address the German chancellor had been emphatic that the agreement did not apply to Manchuria. Tellingly, he referred to it as the ‘Yangtze agreement’. Lansdowne disagreed. The overt discrepancy between the German and British interpretations of the agreement threatened to reduce its political value. Lansdowne regarded the episode as ‘unfortunate’, and concluded that ‘everything possible must be done to avoid such an occurrence’.¹⁶⁵ This was wishful thinking. In reality, Lansdowne faced the dilemma that Salisbury had foreseen shortly before concluding his negotiations with Hatzfeldt. The fact that the draft convention between Russia and China kept up the ﬁction of China’s sovereignty over Manchuria did not facilitate unanimity in interpreting the terms of the October agreement. This allowed Bülow to claim that the agreement was purely commercial and, since neither Britain nor Germany claimed or aspired to excercise inﬂuence over Manchuria, the Germans could argue, with some justiﬁcation, that Manchuria was excluded from the agreement. Most of the Salisbury–Hatzfeldt negotiations had been taken up with ensuring that this would be so, though Lansdowne may not have known this. It was symptomatic of the muddle of the unreformed Foreign Ofﬁce that Lansdowne now had to give orders to investigate the history of the October agreement. Francis Campbell was detailed to comb the Foreign Ofﬁce records for any statement by Berlin that the maintenance of China’s territorial integrity was a principle of Germany’s policy. The result of his research was negative: ‘We cannot ﬁnd that she ever did say so directly.’¹⁶⁶ Lansdowne had to concede that in the course of the negotiations for the China agreement the German government ‘did give us to understand that in their view Manchuria was not a place within which they consider they had inﬂuence’. Privately, he admitted that ‘the evidence that Germany had never ¹⁶⁵ Quotes from Lascelles to Lansdowne (no. 69), 16 Mar. 1901, FO 64/1520; and tel. vice versa (no. 79), 16 Mar. 1901, BD ii, no. 34. ¹⁶⁶ Note Campbell to Lansdowne, 26 Mar. 1901, FO 17/1502; Young, British Policy, 292.

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regarded clause I of the Anglo-German Agreement as applicable to Manchuria was overwhelming’.¹⁶⁷ Lansdowne’s conciliatory speech in the Lords on 28 March did little to tide matters over. At the Auswärtiges Amt Mühlfeld berated Lascelles that during the negotiations Salisbury had given to understand that the agreement was not to apply to Manchuria.¹⁶⁸ The German chancellor’s repudiation conﬁrmed Foreign Ofﬁce suspicions of German diplomacy. Sanderson was in no doubt about its duplicitous nature. The Kaiser ‘is apparently furious with us for not having got into a quarrel with Russia over the [Manchurian] business . . . and . . . that would have suited the Germans very well’.¹⁶⁹ Lascelles formed the same conclusion: Germany ‘would be by no means displeased if a conﬂict should break out between Russia on the one hand and Britain and Japan on the other. If such a conﬂict were to break out I believed that the sympathies of the German Government would be on the side of England and Japan, but I was convinced that Germany would remain a neutral spectator of the struggle.’ Francis Bertie minuted wryly: ‘The honest broker sitting on the fence.’¹⁷⁰ There was also widespread discontent with Germany among Cabinet ministers. In the wake of the Manchurian crisis previously strong pro-German sentiments began to wane. Even Chamberlain had become mistrustful. He told Eckardstein that he would not ‘burn his ﬁngers a second time over the same [viz. alliance] business’. He was certain ‘that everything that Berlin hears is at once passed on to Petersburg, no one can wonder if in future we maintain the greatest reserve towards Germany’. Hamilton was equally disillusioned. The China agreement, he observed, ‘was drawn up hastily and clumsily’, and he complained about the ‘distinct discrepancy’ between British and German policies during the recent crisis.¹⁷¹ ¹⁶⁷ Quotes from Lansdowne to Lascelles (no. 136), 7 Apr. 1901, BD ii, no. 37; and (private), 1 Apr. 1901, Lascelles MSS, FO 800/10. On the political aspects of record-keeping, see T. G. Otte, ‘ “Old Diplomacy”: reﬂections on the Foreign Ofﬁce before 1914’, Foreign Ofﬁce and British Diplomacy in the Twentieth Century, ed. G. Johnson (London, 2005), 35–7. ¹⁶⁸ Lascelles to Lansdowne (private), 29 Mar. 1901, Lansdowne MSS, FO 800/128. Bertie wrongly blamed ‘my friend Bossy [viz. Sanderson] for this’, see Bertie to Lascelles (private), 20 Mar. 1901, Lascelles MSS, FO 800/10. ¹⁶⁹ Sanderson to Satow (private), 12 Apr. 1901, Satow MSS, PRO 30/33/7/1; see tel. Lascelles to Lansdowne (no. 24), 10 Apr. 1901, FO 64/1524. ¹⁷⁰ Quotes from Lascelles to Lansdowne (no. 63), 15 Mar. 1901, FO 64/1520; and min. Bertie, n.d. [22 Mar. 1901], on tel. Lascelles to Lansdowne (no. 22), 21 Mar. 1901, FO 64/1524. ¹⁷¹ Quotes from Eckardstein to Holstein (privat), 18 Mar. 1901, Eckardstein, Lebenserinnerungen ii, 277–8; and Hamilton to Curzon (private), 22 Mar. 1901, Hamilton MSS, MSS.Eur.C.126/3.

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In the Manchurian crisis the China Question had entered its most acute phase. The crisis and the earlier disputes with Russia in the immediate aftermath of the Boxer troubles underscored the continued effects of the double crisis of British power at this time. However, Lansdowne’s diplomacy in March 1901 did not indicate a break with Salisbury’s policy. Whatever Lansdowne’s ‘preconceived idea’ in favour of cooperation with Berlin, the awkward Waldersee experience had demonstrated the limitations such cooperation placed on British policy, and it informed Lansdowne’s cautious response to Eckardstein’s alliance overture. As a result of the failure of Lansdowne’s own project of a regional entente with Germany, the option of an Anglo-German combination as a means of containing the instability wrought by the China Question had thus fallen to the ground. But, despite Russia’s climb-down over Manchuria, Far Eastern developments continued to threaten further instability. In turn, this prospect would force Britain’s foreign policy elite further to recast the country’s foreign policy.

6 The Mirage of Alliances: British Isolation and the Far East, 1901–5 The Manchurian Crisis had ended in a sudden anti-climax. Although Great Power politics now entered calmer waters, the underlying tensions of the previous months had not been solved. The Manchurian affair was an ‘arrested crisis’. Its potential to cause future disruptions remained undiminished. The ofﬁcial Russian assurance that St Petersburg would now await ‘avec calme la marche ultérieure des événements’ was for the consumption of foreign governments. The crisis left no doubt that any future attempts to extend Russian inﬂuence in north China would meet with British opposition, while Japan’s offer of ‘material assistance’ to China at the height of the crisis closed down the option of a separate Russo-Japanese diplomatic bargain. Russia’s Far Eastern diplomacy was in a cul-de-sac.¹ This had a number of implications for British policy. Russian weakness brieﬂy held out the prospect of an Anglo-Russian arrangement. At the same time, and Bülow’s coolness in March notwithstanding, the impact of the China Question had now been translated into Europe, and acted as a catalyst for another round of Anglo-German alliance talks. These developments highlighted the extent to which China had become the pivot around which British policy now revolved. The talks with the Germans especially complicated matters, for the projected alliance entailed the formal acknowledgment of a linkage between the Far Eastern region and the European core area of Great Power politics. This was a linkage that Lansdowne was anxious to avoid. In turn, this made the option of a Japanese agreement more attractive. However, an alliance with the Asian maritime Power was not without risks. The attempts to reduce the global impact of the China Question, and to compartmentalize it by ¹ Messager Ofﬁciel (24 Mar./6 Apr. 1901) (copy in FO 65/1620); B. A. Romanov, Russia in Manchuria, 1892–1906 (Ann Arbor, 1952), 216–18. For the term ‘arrested crisis’ see J. Burckhardt, Reﬂections on History (London, 1944), 168.

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means of strictly regional agreements, as well as the internal discussions in 1901 and again in 1903–4, about the nature of Britain’s commitment to Japan, touched upon the nature of Britain’s continued international ‘isolation’. The advantage which Britain held over Russia in the aftermath of the Manchurian Crisis was clearly discerned by British diplomatists. However, there was a broad consensus in Whitehall that the dropping of the Twelve Demands provided little more than a breathing space. Sanderson stressed the need for caution. The Russians were ‘colossal’. Their current demonstrations of friendly sentiments might reﬂect the Tsar’s personal inclination towards ‘a good understanding with us . . . and it would be much the best plan if it could be managed. But I am afraid the military party will take an opportunity to give us a nasty one.’ Sanderson did not doubt that ‘they [viz. the Russians] will do their best to pay the Chinese out in the end’.² Lansdowne concurred with these sentiments. Russian proceedings in the Far East remained his main concern: ‘What we must look out for is a sudden outburst of impatience here or elsewhere.’³ That Russia would not sit on the Manchurian fence for long became clear when, during a visit to Berlin in late April, Witte suggested a guarantee à trois for a new £17 million China loan to enable Peking to pay the anticipated Boxer indemnity. To Sanderson’s mind this was a clumsy attempt to secure ﬁnancial advantages for the former triplice partners. Nevertheless, he argued that, in a longer term perspective, ‘work[ing] with Russia is the only sound [policy]—but it must be worked very slowly and cautiously and with the feeling that our friends are the most slippery customers’.⁴ This was the voice of Salisbury speaking through his former PUS. Witte’s initiative was politically motivated, not driven by ﬁnancial calculations. Given the precarious state of Russia’s ﬁnances, it was an unrealistic project, and therefore easily blocked. There was, however, a complicating factor. Despite Lansdowne’s clear signal of 29 March that talks should not proceed further, Eckardstein had not abandoned his alliance project; and this now began to intrude upon British policy. After the Easter break, the portly Baron returned to Downing Street where he had two separate interviews with Lansdowne and Sanderson on 9 April. His suggestion to the Foreign Secretary ² Quotes from Sanderson to Satow (private), 12 Apr. 1901, BD ii, no. 73, and (private), 12 Apr. 1901, Satow MSS, PRO 30/33/7/1 (second letter under that date, not reproduced in BD). ³ Lansdowne to Satow (private), 9 Apr. 1901, Satow MSS, Pro 30/33/7/1. ⁴ Sanderson to Scott (private), 24 Apr. 1901, Scott MSS, Add. MSS. 52299; Lansdowne to Hamilton, 13 Apr. 1901, Lansdowne MSS, Lans (5) 28. For the loan talks, cf. tel. Bülow to Hatzfeldt (no. 191), 20 Apr. 1901, GP xvi, no. 4899; and tel. Pichon to Delcassé (no. 166, conﬁdentiel ), 30 Apr. 1901, DDF (2) i, no. 214.

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‘that the time had again become opportune for discussing the question of a defensive alliance’, was received with some reservation by Lansdowne. With Salisbury recuperating in the Alpes Maritime, Eckardstein was informed, no action was possible in the matter.⁵ This was not only constitutionally proper; given Salisbury’s well-documented scepticism on the subject of closer Anglo-German ties, it was also a signal to Eckardstein to drop the matter. However, Eckardstein did not transmit Lansdowne’s implicit message to Berlin; nor could he, if he wanted to maintain his building of beneﬁcent falsehoods. Lansdowne’s response of 9 April may well not have been quite as cool as his own account would suggest. According to Eckardstein’s version of events, the Foreign Secretary dwelled at some length on earlier Anglo-German pourparlers, such as the 1887 exchanges between Bismarck and Salisbury, the records of which Lansdowne had apparently recently studied. Since the bulk of these papers was at Hatﬁeld House rather than the Foreign Ofﬁce, this was probably one of Eckardstein’s fabrications. Crucially, however, Lansdowne also mentioned the Kaiser’s conversation with Lascelles in December 1898, of which Eckardstein could not have known, but of which Lascelles had reminded the Foreign Secretary on 22 March. Eckardstein ended his report with the prediction that Lansdowne would return to the alliance issue at their next meeting.⁶ Immediately after this interview, Eckardstein paid a surprise visit to Sanderson. He made no further proposals, but assured the PUS ‘that everything was alright [sic] now between the two Gov[ernmen]ts’. The Kaiser would speak to Lascelles. Meanwhile, Russian intrigues at Berlin had failed, owing largely to his own exertions. As a result of this rather strange communication, Sanderson formed the idea that whatever Hatzfeldt’s deputy had told Berlin ‘had produced an explosion & Eckardstein was rather nervous as to the effects’.⁷ That was the nub of the problem, though even the shrewd Sanderson failed to grasp fully Eckardstein’s stratagem. Eckardstein was so palpably nervous because his intrigue had not produced the desired results. While Lansdowne patiently waited for Eckardstein to produce the terms of the alliance for which Berlin seemed so anxious, Bülow grew impatient at Lansdowne’s apparent penchant for treating serious matters ‘purely academically’.⁸ From the German foreign ⁵ Memo. Lansdowne, 9 Apr. 1901, FO 64/1655; and tel. Lansdowne to Lascelles (no. 131A), 9 Apr. 1901, BD ii, no. 80. Lansdowne’s memorandum was seen by Balfour, Devonshire, Chamberlain, and Hicks Beach. ⁶ Tel. Eckardstein to Holstein (privat), 10 Apr. 1901, Eckardstein, Lebenserinnerungen ii, 335; see Lascelles to Lansdowne (private), 22 Mar. 1901, Lansdowne MSS, FO 800/128. ⁷ Memo. Sanderson, 9 Apr. 1901, Lascelles MSS, FO 800/10. ⁸ Tel. Bülow to Hatzfeldt (no. 154, geheim), 24 Mar. 1901, GP xvii, no. 4998.

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minister’s perspective, Lansdowne’s statements were reminiscent of his apparent earlier efforts to entice Berlin into stating its policy over Manchuria, while holding back himself. Eckardstein was now in danger of being found out. The Kaiser, as advised by Bülow, did not raise the alliance issue with Lascelles. Although he expressed his hopes for improved relations, he severely criticized the British government ‘as a set of unmitigated noodles’ because of its weak policy during the Manchurian stand-off.⁹ Wilhelm’s intemperate language wiped out the good impression created by his visit in January. Eckardstein ploughed on. His next meeting with Lansdowne was delayed until 13 April, owing to the Foreign Secretary’s extended stay in Scotland. Lansdowne was now in some doubt as to whether the Baron’s communications were ‘de son propre cris’. He surmised that Eckardstein had been sent to ameliorate the effects of the Kaiser’s ‘unmitigated noodles’ outburst. He also suspected him of being ‘now quite inclined to make the running again on his own account’. Eckardstein again raised the idea of a defensive alliance, with the casus foederis ‘restricted to the contingency in which either Power might be threatened by a combination of other Powers’. He conceded that no progress was to be hoped for while Salisbury was ill, and that all his exchanges with Lansdowne were ‘quite unofﬁcial’. Eckardstein had to tread a very ﬁne line, but unguardedly ampliﬁed on the ‘unofﬁcial’ nature of the talks, and hinted that Lansdowne was ‘not [to] suppose that the Emperor knew all about the communication which he was now making’. When cross-examined as to who at Berlin knew of the talks, and whether the advances were made without the Kaiser’s encouragement, Eckardstein’s house of cards was on the verge of collapse. Yet he carried on his danse macabre: ‘Eckardstein “hummed and ha’d” a good deal over this and ﬁnally replied that what had been done had been done with the knowledge of persons very near the Emperor, and who had means of judging H.I.M.’s ideas. He mentioned Holstein . . . as one of these persons.’ Lansdowne conﬁded to Lascelles that the initiative would not produce anything tangible. ‘In principle, the idea is good enough’, he thought. But if the talks ever reached the stage where terms had to be formulated, ‘we shall break down; and I know Lord Salisbury regards the scheme with, to say the least, suspicion’.¹⁰ Eckardstein could still have broken off his initiative at this point, without danger of being found out at Berlin. He did not, and instead encouraged Berlin ⁹ Tel. Lascelles to Lansdowne (no. 24), 10 Apr. 1901, FO 64/1524. The strong language is corroborated by tel. Holstein to Eckardstein (privat), 10 Apr. 1901, Eckardstein, Lebenserinnerungen ii, 336. The expression ‘unmitigated noodles’ was used in English. ¹⁰ Lansdowne to Lascelles (private), 13 Apr. 1901, BD ii, no. 81; Bertie to Eckardstein, 13 Apr. 1901, Eckardstein, ibid. ii, 338.

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to believe that Lansdowne and other senior ministers were still pressing for an alliance. According to his telegraphic report to Holstein, Lansdowne explained that he had discussed the alliance question with Devonshire and Chamberlain. This seems plausible, for Lansdowne’s memorandum on the interview of 9 April had indeed been circulated to these two as well as to Balfour and Beach. However, this was about the extent of Eckardstein’s veracity. When, he claimed, he had suggested dropping the idea of a defensive alliance in light of Salisbury’s known reservations, Lansdowne had reacted with some warmth: ‘Devonshire, Chamberlain and I are in favour. As regards Salisbury, I do not doubt that he, too, will decide for it. The times have simply changed.’ Nevertheless, the Foreign Secretary had urged him for the moment to treat the question ‘as purely academic’. Convinced that an anti-Salisbury clique around the Devonshire–Lansdowne–Chamberlain triumvirate was pushing for an alliance, the Wilhelmstrasse instructed Eckardstein to steer the discussions back towards the idea of Britain’s adhesion to the Triple Alliance, ‘making Vienna to some extent the centre for the alliance negotiations’.¹¹ The Baron was now panicking, fearing to become entangled in his own web of untruths. His position had become more precarious, for Hatzfeldt, his health restored, was about to take over embassy affairs again on 18 April. Possibly with a view to covering his tracks, Eckardstein fell upon the idea of inveigling his close personal friend Hayashi into making a renewed triplice proposal to Lansdowne. The Baron’s suggestions undoubtedly resonated with Hayashi’s own views. The two diplomatists had exchanged ideas throughout March, and on several occasions the German had suggested the idea of some form of an Anglo-German-Japanese triple alliance, based on the ‘open-door’ principle and the maintenance of Chinese territorial integrity.¹² Hayashi, having sought permission to open negotiations in London, was ﬁnally instructed on 16 April to sound out Lansdowne. On the same day, Eckardstein informed Sanderson that in the course of their earlier discussions Hayashi had developed the ‘purely personal’ idea of a new triplice. This tripartite arrangement was to be based on the Salisbury–Hatzfeldt agreement, ‘but going further and pledging the three Governments to support the integrity of China and the maintenance of the “open door” at existing Treaty Ports’.¹³ ¹¹ Quotes from tel. Eckardstein to Holstein (privat), 13 Apr. 1901, Eckardstein, ibid. ii, 337–8; and tel. Richthofen to Hatzfeldt, 14 Apr. 1901, GP xvii, no. 5001 (also in Eckardstein, ibid. ii, 338). ¹² Eckardstein, ibid. ii, 285–6 and 343; Hayashi, Secret Memoirs, 115–16; also R. von Kühlmann, Erinnerungen (Heidelberg, 1948), 194. Professor Nish does not rule out the possibility that Hayashi was the real originator of the triplice project, Anglo-Japanese Alliance, 126. ¹³ Min. Sanderson, 16 Apr. 1901, Lansdowne MSS, FO 800/115; Nish, Anglo-Japanese Alliance, 126.

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Lansdowne received Sanderson’s minute on Eckardstein’s latest communication at the same time as Lascelles’s ofﬁcial despatch on his conversation with the Emperor. Lascelles acquainted Lansdowne with the full ‘torrent of eloquence’ the Kaiser had poured on him. In a supplementary, private letter he counselled against attaching undue importance to the Imperial outburst. He conceded that Wilhelm’s renewed promise of ‘benevolent but strict neutrality’ in the event of Far Eastern complications could be read as an incitement to war. However, Lascelles noted that, when pressed, the Kaiser ‘would not give . . . a straight answer’ but recommended that the episode had best be ignored as a ‘tale of little meaning though the words be strong’.¹⁴ This assessment conﬁrmed Lansdowne’s suspicion that Eckardstein was acting off his own bat. The Emperor’s promise of ‘benevolent but strict neutrality’, moreover, indicated that Germany was reverting to her stance of mid-March, and would not join an Anglo-Japanese combination in the Far East. Certainly, when Hayashi broached the subject of ‘some permanent understanding for the protection of their interests in that part of the world’ on 17 April, he did not include Germany in the projected combination. Lansdowne, however, saw Hayashi’s approach in connection with Eckardstein’s earlier communications. Furthermore, according to Hayashi’s recollections, Lansdowne suggested that an agreement ‘would not of necessity be conﬁned to two countries, but any other country might be admitted to it’.¹⁵ This would suggest that Lansdowne, irrespective of his qualms about a defensive alliance with Germany, had not foreclosed the option of a more limited arrangement with Berlin. To increase pressure, and so break the deadlock in the talks, Hatzfeldt and Holstein now hinted that Witte’s loan initiative would signal the ‘reactivation’ of the 1895 triplice. This did not fail to make an impression on the Foreign Secretary. Lansdowne warned of the ‘gravest consequences’ which a separate Russo-French-German ﬁnancial loan agreement would have for the position of all the Powers in China.¹⁶ Lansdowne seemed ‘very excited and frightened by this incident’, and Hatzfeldt thought this a conﬁrmation of his earlier analysis. Bülow and Holstein instructed him to let Lansdowne take the initiative; but ¹⁴ Lascelles to Lansdowne (private), 13 Apr. 1901, Lansdowne MSS, FO 800/128; Lascelles to Lansdowne (no. 95, very conﬁdential), 12 Apr. 1901, BD ii, no. 72. ¹⁵ Tel. Lansdowne to MacDonald (no. 44, conﬁdential), 17 Apr. 1901, BD ii, no. 99; Hayashi, Secret Memoirs, 116–17. ¹⁶ Tel. Hatzfeldt to Bülow (privat), 20 Apr. 1901, GP xvi, no. 4900; Hatzfeldt to Holstein (private), 20 Apr. 1901, HP iv, no. 771; tel. Lansdowne to Lascelles (no. 117), 20 Apr. 1901, FO 64/1523. For a different view, see Charmley, Splendid Isolation?, 287–8, who argues that Lansdowne was not unduly concerned about the latest developments.

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also encouraged him to impress upon Lansdowne that, as Japan’s support could be counted upon, adhesion to the Triple Alliance would make Britain part of a ﬁve-Power combination. With the aid of this ‘Fünfergruppe’ she would be able ‘to drive the [Franco-Russian] Dual Alliance before her without war’. Were Britain to remain passive, as prescribed by Salisbury, Russia would absorb Manchuria and France the southern provinces and the Upper Yangtze basin.¹⁷ There was support in Cabinet for closer ties with Germany. Hamilton, for one, had overcome his earlier doubts: I am gradually coming round to the opinion that we must alter our foreign policy, and throw our lot in . . . with some other Power. On the whole, I think, the best alliance we could form would be to join the Triple Alliance. Such a combination would guarantee the peace of Europe and would . . . enable us to reduce our expenditure, both military and naval.¹⁸

Little could be achieved until Salisbury returned home. Disregarding the explicit instructions from Berlin, Eckardstein raised the alliance question once more during an interview with Lansdowne on 15 May, whilst telling the Wilhelmstrasse that the Foreign Secretary had raised the issue ‘conﬁdentially and academically’, and that Salisbury was inclined to accept an agreement.¹⁹ Moreover, Eckardstein seems to have promised Lansdowne a memorandum detailing Germany’s terms for a defensive alliance, while he reported Lansdowne as suggesting the idea of both sides putting down in writing their respective terms. If Eckardstein thought he could somehow bring movement into the talks, he had miscalculated. Lansdowne left London for his Bowood estate for Whitsun, and it was Hatzfeldt whom he saw upon his return rather than Eckardstein. The ambassador, meanwhile, had been instructed to insist that the projected Anglo-German agreement would have to stipulate the casus foederis in the event of an attack by two Powers on Germany’s Dreibund partners, more especially upon Austria-Hungary. Hatzfeldt was not to press Lansdowne; the initiative had to come from the British side.²⁰ The Lansdowne–Hatzfeldt interview took place on 23 May. Before the meeting the Foreign Secretary discussed Eckardstein’s alliance proposal with ¹⁷ Hatzfeldt to Holstein, 4 May 1901, HP iv, no. 772; Holstein to Eckardstein (privat), 11 May 1901, Eckardstein, Lebenserinnerungen ii, 348. ¹⁸ Hamilton to Curzon (private), 24 Apr. 1901, Hamilton MSS, MSS.Eur.C.126/3. ¹⁹ Tels. Hatzfeldt to Bülow (privat), 15 May 1901, and to Auswärtiges Amt (nos. 375 and 381), 16 and 17 May 1901, GP xvii, nos. 5004–6. The telegrams were sent in Hatzfeldt’s name, see tels. Eckardstein to Holstein (privat), 15 and 17 May 1901, Eckardstein, Lebenserinnerungen ii, 348. ²⁰ Lansdowne to Eckardstein, 24 May 1901, BD ii, no. 84; tel. Richthofen to Hatzfeldt (no. 234), 20 May 1901, GP xvii, no. 5009.

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Salisbury, who indicated his intention to have the matter debated by a Cabinet committee to be specially convened for the purpose. Apart from himself and Lansdowne, it was to include Balfour, Beach, Chamberlain, and Devonshire, with whom Lansdowne had consulted previously.²¹ This was reminiscent of the Cabinet discussions in August 1900, and is suggestive of the emergence of a form of foreign policy directorate after Salisbury had relinquished the Foreign Ofﬁce. Lansdowne expected a detailed statement of Germany’s terms, as promised by Eckardstein; he was also under the impression that Hatzfeldt ‘had expressed a desire to discuss this question with me’. Still, the fact that Lansdowne agreed to the interview being held at the German embassy rather than in Downing Street is an indication of his desire fully to explore the alliance question, irrespective of his own doubts.²² In the course of the discussion at Prussia House, Eckardstein’s web of fabrications and falsehoods was torn asunder. Hatzfeldt kept close to his instructions. He declined to discuss any points of detail, and reiterated Berlin’s preference for Britain’s adhesion to the Triple Alliance. Lansdowne enquired about the precise modalities of the casus foederis, and observed that the projected alliance entailed a diminution of Britain’s ‘liberty of action’, subject to the wishes of the three central Powers. Hatzfeldt readily admitted this, but reminded Lansdowne of the dangers of Britain’s ‘present “isolement” ’. The ‘inconveniencies’ entailed in joining the Dreibund were minor in contrast to the ‘disadvantages’ of continued isolation. He traduced the notion, ﬁrst raised by Chamberlain, that an agreement with Russia could be had. Russia could no doubt be approached, but an arrangement ‘vous coûtera cher’. Lansdowne’s line of argument closely mirrored the position he had taken in his ﬁrst interview with Eckardstein on 18 March, while Hatzfeldt’s reference to Chamberlain indicated that he saw the discussions in connection with the Chatsworth talks of January.²³ The meeting had been amicable in tone, and the two men parted on friendly terms. Yet, the ‘purely academic and personal exchange’ produced no real results—with one exception. Either in the course of the interview, or as a result of Lansdowne’s subsequent letter to Eckardstein, Hatzfeldt grasped something of Eckardstein’s duplicitous game. The ambassador was aghast that the Baron had apparently usurped his ambassadorial role, and that ‘a promise had been ²¹ Lansdowne to Salisbury, 24 May 1901, BD ii, no. 82. ²² This is a point of some signiﬁcance, missed by Grenville, Salisbury, 352, and Charmley, Splendid Isolation?, 288. ²³ Memo. Lansdowne, 24 May 1901, BD ii, no. 82; tel. Hatzfeldt to Auswärtiges Amt (no. 394, geheim), 23 May 1901, GP xvii, no. 5010.

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made to [Lansdowne]’. The German diplomatic service was notoriously riddled with petty personal rivalries, and Hatzfeldt suspected Eckardstein of plotting against him with a view to succeeding him: ‘Admittedly the idea is absurd, for the job requires somewhat more knowledge and experience, and it is not enough to be Maple’s son-in-law and keep open house for Press-men and others.’²⁴ Eckardstein’s proceedings not only called into question Hatzfeldt’s management of embassy affairs; it also placed German diplomacy in a disadvantageous position vis-à-vis Britain, for Germany now seemed to be in the position of the suitor. Hatzfeldt pleaded ignorance of his deputy’s promise, but this only encouraged Lansdowne to repeat his request for some form of written statement of the German terms, as well as for certain ‘documents antérieurs’ regarding the terms of the Dreibund in order to ‘apprehend with absolute correctness the general principles upon which we might proceed’. Lansdowne’s repeated requests burst like a bomb-shell in the Wilhelmstrasse. A written statement of Germany’s terms was ‘precisely what we wish to avoid’. In consequence, between them Hatzfeldt and Holstein drafted a carefully worded letter, vaguely promising the desired document when it came to discussing points of detail.²⁵ Eckardstein’s house of cards had come crashing down, and still he did not lose his nerve. On 27 May, he called upon Sanderson, and explained that the ambassador ‘was in a violent state of nervous excitement . . . and that the smallest contradiction threw him into a ﬁt of passion. He was much perplexed.’ As regarded Lansdowne’s request for a memorandum, the Baron assured Sanderson that he ‘had . . . been acting on deﬁnite instructions’. Twenty-four hours later Eckardstein returned to the Foreign Ofﬁce. The PUS wryly noted that he had become ‘a very horrible and portentous bore’. The Baron ampliﬁed on his perplexities: ‘He said that C[oun]t Hatzfeldt continued in an orrfool [sic] state of excitement, that he was quite misrepresenting the position of his discussions to . . . Berlin, and that he was afraid there would be a muddle.’ Sanderson advised ‘to keep quiet’. Unlike Hatzfeldt, the British still had not fathomed the depth of Eckardstein’s duplicity. Lansdowne surmised that Hatzfeldt’s perturbation was caused by rumours about his possible recall; and he doubted that Eckardstein had a hand in this: ‘As H[atzfeldt]’s understudy he is a much more important personage than he would be under another ²⁴ Hatzfeldt to Holstein, 26 May 1901, HP iv, no. 774 (original emphasis). The Ambassador did not report this ofﬁcially, see tel. Hatzfeldt to Holstein (privat), 27 May 1901, GP xvii, no. 5012. ²⁵ Quotes from Hatzfeldt to Lansdowne (conﬁdentielle), 25 May, and (particulière et conﬁdentielle), 30 May, and vice versa (conﬁdential), 26 May 1901, BD ii, nos. 87, encls. 2–3, and 88; tels. Holstein to Hatzfeldt and vice versa (privat), both 29 May 1901, GP xvii, nos. 5015–16.

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ambass[ado]r.’²⁶ Sanderson was of similar opinion. There had been, he informed Lascelles, ‘a tremendous explosion between Hatzfeldt and Eckardstein’ over the former’s ‘idée ﬁxe’ that his deputy and Holstein had tried to oust him.²⁷ For all his expressions of doubt as to the terms of the projected Quadruple Alliance, Lansdowne was willing to explore the matter further. Following their discussion of the possible terms of an alliance, Sanderson drafted a memorandum, adumbrating the British position in any further rounds of talks. He had ‘sketched the outline of a Convention which suggested itself ’, but warned that no real progress could be made in the talks until the Germans communicated the terms of the Triple Alliance. Sanderson outlined a defensive alliance for ‘the maintenance of the status quo, and of the general peace of Europe’. This was not ‘a modest proposal’, though it clearly did not meet all the conditions set by Hatzfeldt.²⁸ The alliance was to remain in force for a ﬁve-year term; become operational in the event of an unprovoked attack by two Powers upon one of the two contracting parties; and it pledged the two jointly to conduct the war, and not to conclude separate peace agreements. Sanderson’s idea as to the time-scale of the agreement conformed to Eckardstein’s earlier suggestions. However, the wording of his draft was vague regarding the main bone of contention, Britain’s adhesion to the Triple Alliance, as opposed to a purely bilateral treaty between London and Berlin. Implicitly, Sanderson’s draft alliance treaty was largely based on Eckardstein’s ampliﬁcation on the subject on 18 March, which seemed to indicate ‘a purely defensive alliance between the two Powers’.²⁹ Sanderson’s ﬁnal stipulation, excluding ‘any questions arising in the American continent’ from the scope of the alliance, was fully in line with recent efforts at a rapprochement with the United States, resulting in the two Hay–Pauncefote treaties of February 1900 and November 1901, in which Britain relinquished the Western hemisphere to US custodianship.³⁰ Any treaty with Germany, Sanderson warned, required very careful phrasing, lest Britain be dragged into a conﬂict which did not affect her interests. An alliance was likely to be taken by Berlin as a guarantee of Alsace and Lorraine; ²⁶ Quotes from Notes Sanderson to Lansdowne, 27 and 28 May 1901, and min. Lansdowne, n.d., Lansdowne MSS, FO 800/115; Grenville, Lord Salisbury, 352. ²⁷ Sanderson to Lascelles (private), 29 May 1901, Lascelles MSS, FO 800/10. ²⁸ Note Sanderson to Lansdowne, 27 May 1901, FO 64/1655; ‘Draft Convention’, and ‘Amended Draft Convention’, n.d. [26–7 May 1901], BD ii, no. 85, encl. 1 and 2. For the argument of their ‘moderate’ nature, see Charmley, Splendid Isolation?, 289–90. ²⁹ Memo. Lansdowne, 18 Mar. 1901, FO 64/1655. ³⁰ Draft Lansdowne to Lowther (conﬁdential), 16 July 1901, CAB 37/57/71; J. A. S. Grenville, ‘Great Britain and the Isthmian Canal, 1898–1901’, AHR lxi, 1 (1955), 69.

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whereas it was unclear what guarantees Germany could offer in return. The PUS also suggested a supplementary naval and military arms control agreement between the two Powers to pre-empt German attempts to call upon Britain to increase her armaments. In light of the later Anglo-German naval race this concern looks odd, but in the circumstances of 1901, Sanderson’s reasoning was sound. His arguments also reﬂected Lansdowne’s own views on the subject. Following the interview at the German embassy on 23 May, Lansdowne had studied papers on the Triple Alliance specially prepared for him by the Foreign Ofﬁce. To his mind, the terms of that alliance and the modalities of the projected new alliance remained ‘the cardinal points which require to be cleared up before we can seriously take up the great proposal’.³¹ Lansdowne was reluctant to join the German-led alliance. In light of Italy’s recently rumoured cooling towards her two transalpine allies, there was the danger of Britain’s adherence being used as a sticking plaster to hold together the fragile Dreibund.³² The Lansdowne–Sanderson draft was circulated amongst the members of the foreign policy directorate. In response, Salisbury penned his oft-quoted counter-memorandum of 29 May. It was a crisp, cynical, and coolly calculated exposition of Salisburian realpolitik. Despite the draft’s vague wording, Salisbury read it as suggesting Britain’s adhesion to the Triple Alliance, as proposed by Hatzfeldt. The implicit liability of having to defend the Austro-German frontiers in Eastern Europe against Russia, he observed, was more onerous than that of defending Britain against a French attack. He poured scorn on Hatzfeldt’s suggestion (and by implication that of senior Cabinet ministers) that Britain’s international ‘isolation’ constituted some form of danger. Until very recently, Salisbury countered, ‘we have never even been in danger’; and he counselled against incurring ‘novel and most onerous obligations, in order to guard a danger in whose existence we have no historical reason for believing’. The Prime Minister also reiterated the well-rehearsed constitutional argument that no British parliament or government could bind by treaty any of its successors. Finally, he noted that in the present climate an Anglo-German alliance was likely to meet with public hostility.³³ ³¹ Note Sanderson to Lansdowne, 27 May 1901, FO 64/1655; vice versa, n.d. [c. 28 May 1901], Lansdowne MSS, FO 800/115. This must be a reference to papers drawn up in the mid-1890s, which Sanderson kept in his safe; the next memo. on the subject was not compiled until 1902, see Sanderson to Curzon (secret), 8 Oct. 1896, Curzon MSS, F.112/10; memo. Sanderson, ‘Memorandum on the Triple Alliance and other subsequent agreements’, 16 July 1902, FO 881/7750. ³² See Plunkett to Lansdowne (no. 111, conﬁdential), 7 May 1901, FO 7/1310. Plunkett’s report was perceptive, see E. Decleva, Da Adua a Sarajevo: La politica estera italiana e la Francia, 1896–1914 (Bari, 1971), 161–76. ³³ Memo. Salisbury, 29 May 1901, BD ii, no. 86 (original emphasis); Otte, ‘ “Floating Downstream” ’, 118–19.

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There was nothing novel about Salisbury’s arguments. He developed with greater clarity the position which he had adopted since the Boxer turmoil, and highlighted the same problems on which Lansdowne had ruminated ever since Eckardstein had ﬁrst mooted the idea of an alliance. The traditional scholarly assumption, therefore, that Salisbury somehow killed off his successor’s alliance project is difﬁcult to maintain.³⁴ The Prime Minister’s argument was also something of a sleight of hand. He had, at least, trained his formidable artillery on a non-existent target, for neither Lansdowne nor Sanderson had suggested joining the Dreibund. Signiﬁcantly, Salisbury had to concede that extra-European imperial interests were now potentially threatened, even if the security of the British Isles was not—which neither Lansdowne nor Chamberlain before him had argued. No decision was taken to discontinue the talks. Having received none of the seemingly promised German documents, Lansdowne was resigned that ‘discussions are likely to be dropped for the moment’. Eckardstein was still seen as a credible interlocutor; and Sanderson and Lascelles accepted his explanations that the ageing ambassador had caused ‘a good deal of misunderstanding, and that he must have represented [Lansdowne’s] conversation with him as indicating much more alacrity on our part than we actually exhibited’. Until Hatzfeldt’s rumoured recall was ofﬁcially conﬁrmed, Lansdowne concluded, he was ‘quite content to mark time for a while’.³⁵ For his part, Eckardstein blamed Hatzfeldt’s ‘morbid, nervous state’ for the imbroglio. He alleged that the ambassador had attempted to force Lansdowne into opening negotiations immediately, and informed Holstein that Salisbury ‘refused to negotiate at pistol-point’, though Lansdowne was ‘acting very considerately in the whole matter’.³⁶ The collapse of Eckardstein’s alliance initiative, and the confusion surrounding Hatzfeldt’s position, created a hiatus in the Anglo-German talks. Lansdowne, Eckardstein reported at the end of July, had ‘somehow lost courage’ after the failure of two attempts to start alliance talks, but was hopeful that renewed French activities in Morocco might restart them.³⁷ Neither Lansdowne nor Bülow desired to raise the issue. Only an unfortunate misunderstanding ³⁴ The traditional interpretation is expounded in Grenville, Salisbury, 353–5; also Monger, End of Isolation, 37–8; Z. S. Steiner and K. Neilson, Britain and the Origins of the First World War (Basingstoke and New York, 2nd edn. 2005), 28. ³⁵ Quotes from Lansdowne to Lascelles, 30 May 1901, FO 64/1655; Lansdowne to Lascelles (secret), 9 June 1901, BD ii, no. 89. For the rumours see Hatzfeldt to Holstein, 8 June 1901, HP iv, no. 777. ³⁶ Eckardstein to Holstein, 8 June 1901, HP iv, no. 778. ³⁷ Tel. Eckardstein to Hatzfeldt (privat), 29 July 1901, GP xvii, no. 5021.

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ensured that it remained on the agenda. The occasion was a meeting between Edward VII and his Imperial nephew at Cronberg on 23 August 1901. The misunderstanding arose when a travel-weary King-Emperor handed the Kaiser a memorandum on the general line of British policy towards Germany, which Lansdowne had drawn up for his monarch’s eyes only. Armed with a countermemorandum, Wilhelm then regaled his uncle with a dissection of British policy, once again dismissing the British Cabinet as ‘those unmitigated noodles’. Relations with London ‘could only be placed on a satisfactory footing . . . by the conclusion of a deﬁnite and binding treaty’. Such a treaty was necessary as Britain could not be trusted, and ‘the epithet of the “perﬁdious Albion” was still valid’. The Kaiser’s intemperate outburst reinforced some of Lansdowne’s doubts about the practicability of an arrangement with Germany: ‘As for a complete understanding between Germany and ourselves, no one could have striven harder . . . than I have. I observe that the Emperor even used the word ‘alliance’ . . . You know probably better than I what a big fence this is to ride at. I should not mind having a try if I knew what was on the other side.’ There was nothing, he concluded, but to sit on that fence until the autumn, when the Cabinet would re-examine the issue.³⁸ The practical details of an alliance with Germany were difﬁcult enough to settle. Indeed, it was a peculiar aspect of the alliance talks in 1901 that neither side had a clear understanding of the other’s aims. In this respect, the AngloGerman negotiations were unique in the history of Great Power diplomacy. For Lansdowne the quixotic course of events raised doubts about who controlled German policy. While the Kaiser’s Cronberg outburst had kicked the alliance issue into the long grass, other factors crowded on to Britain’s diplomatic agenda in the Far East; and these, in turn, would shape the internal discussions about foreign alliances. While Lansdowne negotiated with Berlin and Tokyo with a view to containing Russian expansionism in Manchuria, Satow was ﬁghting Britain’s corner at the Peking conference of foreign representatives. This assembly was to negotiate the normalization of relations between China and the foreign Powers, an indemnity for the attacks on the legations and the destruction of life and property, as well as material guarantees against any ³⁸ Quotes from Lascelles to Lansdowne (no. 206), 25 Aug. 1901, FO 64/1521; Lansdowne to Lascelles (private), 28 Aug. 1901, Lascelles MSS, FO 800/10; see memo. MacDonald, ‘Memorandum on questions which may be raised by the German Emperor to the King’, 10 Aug. 1901, FO 64/1539; also Sir S. Lee, King Edward VII: A Biography (2 vols., London, 1925) ii, 127–30.

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recurrence of such attacks.³⁹ The proceedings of the foreign representatives had an air of unreality. There was no proper negotiating partner, since the Chinese court was still in exile; and while the foreign diplomats maintained the ﬁction of Allied unity at the conference table, Britain and Russia confronted each other across the railway tracks of northern China. Indeed, the Manchurian crisis seemed the harbinger of open conﬂict between the Powers.⁴⁰ Of all the issues involved in the negotiations, the indemnity question was the most important. Lansdowne and his advisers were anxious from the start to prevent an exorbitant indemnity being extracted from China. In return, it was hoped to obtain improved trading arrangements. China’s lack of ﬁnancial resources to foot the anticipated aggregate reparations bill, or even to service a loan issued for that purpose, was apparent. There was the additional consideration, as noted by Ardagh at the end of 1900, that a large indemnity bill would fuel Russian and German armament programmes and that, conversely, a small Boxer indemnity would increase already existing ﬁnancial strains on these two Powers.⁴¹ Lansdowne’s initial efforts to keep the aggregate indemnity at a minimum and to prevent separate claims by the Powers soon ran into the buffers of international opposition, with only Italy and Germany offering qualiﬁed support. In consequence, the issue of a new China loan now came to the fore. In March, Germany pressed hard for an increase in Chinese import duties to 10 per cent in order to raise sufﬁcient revenue for debt-servicing purposes.⁴² The burden of this measure would be carried by Britain as the largest trading nation in China. To secure British agreement to the scheme, Bülow despatched Dr Stuebel, the director of the Auswärtiges Amt’s colonial department, to London. The mission ended in failure. His protracted interviews with an uncompromising Bertie elicited no concessions. Bertie feared that the German initiative aimed at substituting the existing Chinese customs regime with its British inspector-general with an international ﬁnancial board of control. Whether or not Bertie’s ‘logic was too unsparing for the Doctor’s taste’, as Lansdowne ³⁹ Tel. Salisbury to MacDonald (no. 115), 6 Oct. 1900, FO 17/1417. A detailed account of the conference can be gleaned from J. S. Kelly, A Forgotten Conference: The Negotiations at Peking, 1900–1901 (Geneva and Paris, 1963). ⁴⁰ Satow to Bertie, 1 Feb. 1901, Bertie MSS, Add. 63014; T. G. Otte, ‘ “Not Proﬁcient in Table-thumping”: Sir Ernest Satow at Peking, 1900–6’, D&S xiv, 2 (2002), 169–70. ⁴¹ Memo. Bertie, 27 Dec. 1900, FO 17/1451; Ardagh to Sanderson, 8 Nov. 1900, HD 3/119; Young, British Policy, 255–6. ⁴² Tels. Satow to Lansdowne (nos. 92, 107, and 155), 24 Mar., 3 Apr., and 7 May 1901, FO 17/1487; and min. Sanderson, 15 Apr. 1901, Lansdowne MSS, FO 800/115.

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speculated, the Stuebel mission was an indication of the divergence of British and German interests in the Far East.⁴³ In late April, Mikhail Nikolaivich de Giers, now Russian minister at Peking, proposed a loan jointly guaranteed by all the Powers. The implications were similar to those of the German proposal. A jointly guaranteed loan meant that all the guaranteeing Powers had an equal stake in the collateral securities pledged by China, ultimately resulting in an international control board. In the indemnity question, indeed, a Franco-Russian-German combination seemed to emerge: ‘They would all like to put the Maritime Customs under international control, and to retain a ﬁnancial hold upon China.’⁴⁴ Satow was instructed to prevent a joint international guarantee, and to make his approval of a tariff increase subject to the removal of trade restrictions within China. The overall objective of British policy was ‘to avoid making China bankrupt’.⁴⁵ By mid-July Satow drew up the ﬁnal draft of the ﬁnal protocol. The combination of Lansdowne’s last-minute brinkmanship and Satow’s negotiating skills had kept the issues under British control. Still, reviewing the progress of the Peking negotiations and the talks with Germany concerning Manchuria, Bertie concluded: ‘A reliable understanding with Germany in opposition to Russian designs in the Far East is not obtainable.’⁴⁶ A further piece of unﬁnished business conﬁrmed Bertie in this assessment: the future of the Allied China Field Force and the evacuation of the international troops at Shanghai. This issue forced the decision-makers in London to ponder further, non-diplomatic factors. Of these, ﬁnancial considerations especially set the parameters for the internal discussions of the alliance issue at the turn of 1901–2. The undeniable tensions between the various contingents made a general troop withdrawal desirable. This, and budgetary constraints, made the withdrawal of Britain’s contingent one of the ‘predominant’ points on the government’s agenda.⁴⁷ On the other hand, the presence of foreign troops gave the Powers greater leverage over the Chinese in the Peking peace negotiations. ⁴³ Lansdowne to Lascelles, 13 Apr. 1901, FO 64/1655; memo. Bertie, 29 and 30 Mar., and 5 Apr. 1901, FO 17/1502; Hamilton, Bertie of Thame, 25–6. ⁴⁴ Lansdowne to Hamilton, 13 Apr. 1901, Lansdowne MSS, Lans (5) 28; for the proposal see tels. Satow to Lansdowne (nos. 149, 155, and 156), 1 and 7 May 1901, FO 17/1484. ⁴⁵ Tel. Lansdowne to Satow (no. 148), 11 May 1901, FO 17/1486; and (private), 31 May 1901, Satow MSS, PRO 30/33/7/1. ⁴⁶ Memo. Bertie, ‘Anglo-Japanese Agreement’, 22 July 1901, FO 46/547. For text see A Complete Collection of Treaties and Conventions between Great Britain and Foreign Powers, ed. A. H. Oakes and R. W. Brant (London, 1901) 363–9. ⁴⁷ Sanderson to Satow (private), 27 Apr. and 10 May 1901, Satow MSS, PRO 30/33/7/1; Grierson to Knox (no. 37), 21 Mar. 1901, WO 32/6422.

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Any evacuation, then, had to be managed properly. A ‘sudden outburst of impatience here or elsewhere’ had to be avoided, as it was likely to lead to demands for a ‘precipitate withdrawal’. Lansdowne wished to act on the basis of the joint note of 24 December 1900: ‘we ought not commence withdrawing until we are reasonably satisﬁed that the Chinese are complying, or are able and willing to comply with our demands’.⁴⁸ Lansdowne’s plans for a managed withdrawal were crossed by the Wilhelmstrasse. On 10 April, Lascelles reported Richthofen’s warning of potential future unrest caused by the continued foreign military presence in China, and suggested tying the withdrawal of troops to security guarantees for the indemnities. Campbell suspected it to be an attempt to revitalize Stuebel’s proposal to raise the Chinese customs duties.⁴⁹ At any rate, it was a strong indication of Berlin’s intention to withdraw its forces at the earliest opportunity. Richthofen’s proposal was most unwelcome to Lansdowne. A general withdrawal of all allied forces from northern China would complicate efforts to contain Russia in Manchuria, and so compel further revisions in British Far Eastern policy. Richthofen, moreover, had made his evacuation proposal immediately after Lascelles’s ofﬁcial audience with the Kaiser, during which the latter had reproached ‘the unmitigated noodles’ for their weakness in the face of Russian aggression in Asia. If, as Lascelles suggested, the Kaiser’s ‘torrent of eloquence’ could be taken as an incitement to war, Richthofen’s scheme raised the question whether the Germans wanted to pull their troops out of a potential danger zone. Lansdowne grew increasingly weary of the destabilizing effect of German policy: ‘I see that the German Emperor has with characteristic impetuosity assured the world that peace has been concluded, and I am a little uneasy as to the effect which may be produced on the Chinese mind by these somewhat precipitate withdrawals.’⁵⁰ As so often, the Kaiser’s words stood in contrast to the actions of his senior ofﬁcers. No preparations for a general withdrawal had been made at this stage. Indeed, the German contingent seemed to be the principal obstacle in the path of an evacuation: ‘They sent far more troops than were necessary, and they want to have some “fun for their money”.’⁵¹ ⁴⁸ Lansdowne to Satow (private), 9 Apr. 1901, ibid. ⁴⁹ Tel. Lascelles to Lansdowne (no. 25), 10 Apr. 1901, BD ii, no. 149; min. Campbell, n.d. [11 Apr. 1901], FO 64/1524. ⁵⁰ Lansdowne to Satow, 31 May 1901, Satow MSS, PRO 30/33/7/1; Lascelles to Lansdowne (private), 13 Apr. 1901, Lansdowne MSS, FO 800/128. ⁵¹ Satow to Lansdowne (private), 26 Apr. 1901, also 10 May 1901, Lansdowne MSS FO 800/119; see Godley to Sanderson (no. F.1614), 29 Mar. 1901, 5 July 1901, L/MIL/7/16675; memo. India Ofﬁce, ‘Cost of the Troops in China’, n.d. [Jan. 1902], FO 17/1545.

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The prospect of further expenditure in China led the Chancellor to intervene in matters of foreign policy; and his intervention would have a signiﬁcant impact on foreign policy-making. There was a general consensus among senior ministers that the prospects for trade and ﬁnance were anything but promising. By the time Hicks Beach prepared the 1901 budget, the costs of the South African War had reached £153 million, double that of the whole of the Crimean War. Total government expenditure had accelerated to an unprecedented £205 million; and national debt, which Beach had gradually reduced during his ﬁrst four years as Chancellor, had risen to £688 million. Beach announced a further 2d. increase in income tax, having already in the previous year raised it to one shilling. Indirect taxation was also raised; Beach even reintroduced a duty on reﬁned sugar, abolished by Peel in the 1840s.⁵² Taxation was about as high as ministers thought it politically prudent, and Beach lobbied Salisbury to include the China expedition in his latest economy drive. Lansdowne and Hamilton, he complained, lacked zeal in reducing the British contingent: ‘The Cabinet as a body seems to me to care little or nothing about this expenditure. My opinion is very different. We cannot go on like this. I cannot press you too strongly that a large further reduction . . . should at once be made in our force in China.’⁵³ Beach extracted his toll in terms of policy. What Richthofen’s diplomacy could not achieve, Beach’s usual ‘torrent of Billingsgate’ did: the withdrawal of troops from China was now on the political agenda. More troops would have to be withdrawn, Sanderson informed Satow, ‘for climatic reasons and on grounds of expense’. The Chancellor would ‘override any but the most important diplomatic considerations in this respect’.⁵⁴ Budgetary calculations, thus, constrained diplomacy. Though anxious to appease Beach, Lansdowne pointed to potential complications: ‘We must however really be careful not to “scuttle” too quickly out of all these places. There are signs of a recrudescence of trouble in some quarters.’⁵⁵ This was only part of the truth, and it certainly made little impression on a Chancellor whose ﬁeld of vision did not stretch beyond Treasury account ⁵² Balfour to Goschen (most private), [25 Dec.] 1900, Goschen MSS, MS.Eng.hist.c.386; memo. Hamilton, ‘Taxation versus Loans’, n.d. [late 1900], T 168/47; see Lady V. Hicks Beach, Life of Sir Michael Hicks Beach (Earl St Aldwyn) (2 vols., London, 1932) ii, 137–40 and 166–8; A. L. Friedberg, The Weary Titan: Britain and the Experience of Relative Decline, 1895–1905 (London, 1987), 107–9. ⁵³ Hicks Beach to Salisbury (private), 10 May 1901, Salisbury MSS, 3M/E/Hicks Beach (1899–1902); also Hicks Beach to Lansdowne, 5 Oct. 1900, Lansdowne MSS, Lans (5) 46. ⁵⁴ Sanderson to Satow (private), 10 May 1901, Satow MSS, PRO 30/33/7/1; Marsh, Domestic Statecraft, 95 and 104. ⁵⁵ Lansdowne to Salisbury (private), 17 May 1901, Salisbury MSS, 3M/E/Lansdowne (1900–2).

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ledgers. His tart reply to such arguments was that he could ‘not see that a possible recrudescence of the Boxers [was] any sufﬁcient reason to keep 15,000 men in China—for I am not prepared to keep China in order internally’.⁵⁶ The sooner Britain would evacuate her contingent the better. Fiscally this was no doubt prudent but, for Lansdowne, the matter could not be reduced to budget formulae. Without credible military presence in the crisis zone, the ability of British diplomacy to safeguard regional interests was severely circumscribed. Any withdrawal was conditional upon similar measures by the other Powers, and so had to be synchronized with them: ‘We must keep a ﬁrm hand for ourselves, and others must keep step with us.’⁵⁷ This, then, was Lansdowne’s Chinese puzzle: to pursue a policy of the ‘ﬁrm hand’, he needed a military presence in northern China, which Beach was reluctant to fund. Indeed, by the autumn of 1901, this dilemma would be replicated in the naval sphere. The settlement of the Boxer uprising in September 1901 eventually offered a solution to the evacuation question, but its execution still depended on the actions of the other Powers; and they were in no great hurry to vacate China.⁵⁸ Beach’s intervention had established ﬁnancial considerations as crucial in formulating policy. While ministers strove to reconcile ﬁnancial necessity with strategic requirements, Bertie re-examined Britain’s position in the Far East from a strategic and diplomatic perspective. He was encouraged to do so by the combination of Germany’s recoiling from her assumed obligations under the October 1900 agreement at the height of the Manchurian crisis, and her prolixity on the indemnity and other related issues. A tripartite regional combination including Germany, such as he had proposed in early 1901, was clearly now not to be had. If the spring crisis had provided clariﬁcation on this point, it still had left the issue of Britain’s future relations with Japan to be addressed. In March Bertie had repeatedly warned that, in the absence of British support, Japan would make terms with Russia.⁵⁹ During the second half of 1901 Bertie emerged as the chief proponent of an exclusive Anglo-Japanese combination. In June, he suggested the conclusion of an agreement which would pledge London and Tokyo to coordinate their ⁵⁶ Hicks Beach to Salisbury (private), 14 May and 9 Sept. 1901, ibid., 3M/E/Hicks Beach (1899–1902). ⁵⁷ Lansdowne to Satow (private), 20 Jan. 1902, Satow MSS, PRO 30/33/7/2; see mins. of the interdepartmental (Foreign, War, India, and Colonial Ofﬁces) conference on the withdrawal of the force, 9 Oct. 1902, FO 17/1555. ⁵⁸ Hamilton to Curzon (private), 19 Sept. 1901, Hamilton MSS, MSS.Eur. C.126/3; see memo. Campbell, ‘Number of Troops in China’, 22 Jan. 1902, FO 17/1546. ⁵⁹ Memo. Bertie, 13 Jan. and 11 Mar. 1901, FO 17/1501; min. Bertie, 17 Feb. 1901, FO 17/1500.

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respective China policies. He also raised the idea of an additional, secret defence pact, offering Japan British naval assistance in defence of Japanese interests in the Korean peninsula. In return, Japan would commit herself to assist Britain in maintaining the status quo in the Yangtze and southern provinces of China. In substance, Bertie’s proposal of a consultative and naval defence agreement did not differ signiﬁcantly from Salisbury’s tentative scheme for a Japanese entente of mid-February, though its geographical conﬁnes had been extended. This is indicative of the gradual evolution of a British diplomatic strategy; but it would also suggest a greater degree of internal coherence in Foreign Ofﬁce thinking than is often assumed by historians.⁶⁰ The Japanese government’s willingness to fall in with Lansdowne’s scheme for the payment of the Boxer indemnity in Chinese bonds seemed auspicious. But Tokyo refused British ﬁnancial assistance; and Satow observed that the Japanese were inclined to take an independent line, unaccommodating even, on Chinese issues. Fearing Japanese attempts to obtain ﬁnancial assistance from the Franco-Russian bloc, Bertie impressed upon Lansdowne the need to signal Britain’s willingness to come to an understanding with the Japanese, ‘and so keep them from gravitating towards our rivals’.⁶¹ Following a private conversation with Hayashi on 20 July, Bertie returned to the charge two days later in two detailed policy submissions. Japan’s ﬁnancial weakness might compel her to conclude with France and Russia, combining a loan to Tokyo with a neutralization scheme for Korea. Bertie warned that ‘general expressions of goodwill’ on Britain’s part would not prevent the emergence of a Franco-Russian-Japanese triplice, ‘which might be injurious to our interests’. Treasury resistance to purchase Japan’s share of the indemnity bonds at face value ruled out any substantial ﬁnancial assistance to Tokyo that would rival the rumoured French loan offer. Bertie, therefore, suggested moving beyond the issue of ﬁnancial assistance, and reiterated his idea of 20 June of a reciprocal, geographically deﬁned arrangement: Britain would ‘undertake to give Japan naval assistance in resisting any foreign occupation of Corea provided that Japan will promise to give us . . . military and naval aid in resisting foreign aggression in the Yangtze region and the South of China’.⁶² ⁶⁰ Memo. Bertie, 20 June 1901, FO 46/547. For different views, see Monger, End of Isolation, 47–9; Charmley, Splendid Isolation?, 296; Steiner and Neilson, Origins, 29–30. ⁶¹ Memo. Bertie, 2 July 1901, FO 17/1506; see Satow to Bertie (private), 6 July 1901, Satow MSS, PRO 30/33/14/2. ⁶² Memo. Bertie, 22 July 1901, FO 17/1507; Nish, Anglo-Japanese Alliance, 154–6.

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In the second memorandum Bertie offered further observations on the situation in the Far East. German cooperation against Russia could not be relied upon. A modus vivendi with the latter, if indeed obtainable, would be of limited practical value, since Russia ‘would probably not adhere to the spirit of any agreement’. British and Japanese interests in China were largely identical, for neither Power could tolerate Russia’s possession of Korea. In a nod to Treasury pressure, Bertie argued that a reciprocal agreement with Japan would also help to reduce the strains on Britain’s naval resources caused by French and Russian naval expansion. Finally, he surmised that British fears of Russian ambitions in China were fully reciprocated in St Petersburg, and that an AngloJapanese naval combination would act as a signiﬁcant deterrent on Russia. Bertie’s two memoranda of 22 July re-focused more sharply British strategic thinking in the Far East. His proposal was a constructive attempt to overcome the ﬁnancial and naval constraints placed upon British power in the region, whilst simultaneously checking Russo-French ambitions there. Signiﬁcantly, he had not moved beyond the idea of a reciprocal regional defence agreement, which he had advanced in mid-June. There should be no full alliance: ‘an alliance with anyone would be dangerous’.⁶³ Lansdowne took up Bertie’s scheme in two conversations with Hayashi on 23 and 31 July. Both governments, Lansdowne observed, pursued similar policies in China. ‘[S]upposing the balance of power in the waters of the Far East to be threatened with serious disturbance’, he intimated his readiness to enter into talks about a reciprocal agreement to preserve the regional status quo. Although vague, the reference to the equilibrium ‘in the waters of the Far East’ is signiﬁcant. It implied that the regional status quo could not be defended beyond the naval reach of the two Powers. In this respect there was a clear continuity in thinking from Salisbury’s ﬁrst mooting of a Japanese entente for the defence of the Chinese littoral in February, Bertie’s July memoranda, and Lansdowne’s interviews with Hayashi. Neither Lansdowne nor Bertie envisaged a break with previous policy. The interview of 31 July was little more than an informal ‘feeler’; it did not mark the beginning of ofﬁcial negotiations. Lansdowne spoke ‘without authorisation’, and both he and Hayashi treated the conversation as a private exchange.⁶⁴ These early exchanges were reminiscent of Lansdowne’s talks with Eckardstein and Hatzfeldt. Signiﬁcantly, neither the Foreign Secretary nor Hayashi ⁶³ Memo. Bertie, ‘Anglo-Japanese Agreement’, 22 July 1901, FO 46/547. For a slightly different assessment, see Hamilton, Bertie of Thame, 27. ⁶⁴ Lansdowne to Whitehead (no. 89, secret), 31 July 1901, BD ii, no. 102; Hayashi, Secret Memoirs, 124–6. For a different view Monger, ‘End of Isolation’, 116–17.

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entertained any idea of an alliance between the two countries. Lansdowne remained passive, and pressed Hayashi to obtain some ‘statement of their requirements’ from Tokyo.⁶⁵ It was clear that the Japanese would have to take the initiative in the matter. This was fully understood by Hayashi. At the end of August, he met with MacDonald, currently on leave in London, and sought to restart the talks. Nevertheless, Lansdowne, although ‘sincerely desirous to make something of the idea’, remained adamant that Japan would have to show her hand ﬁrst.⁶⁶ In mid-August he had obtained Cabinet approval for further talks. He informed Satow of ‘some interesting conversations with Hayashi as to the possibility of some closer understanding between us & I think it not at all improbable that we may succeed in arriving at this’.⁶⁷ Lansdowne did not pursue the Japanese option to the exclusion of all others, and it would be erroneous to conclude that an Anglo-Japanese alliance had now become inevitable. He had not yet abandoned the idea of an arrangement with Germany, nor did he rule out dealing with Russia. The idea of a general understanding, or ‘friendly compact with her for the partition of the East’, had a certain attraction for some members of Britain’s political elite. Whatever these attractions in principle, the practical problems were formidable, as Curzon observed: ‘(a) Russia has all the cards in her hands (geographical, strategical, & political) & we have none; (b) the Russian statesmen are such incurable liars.’⁶⁸ By mid-1901, relations were strained again, primarily over developments in Afghanistan and Persia. While no Russian advance in Central Asia seemed imminent, the prospect of a new Russian loan to Persia suggested that the Shah was in danger of slipping further into ﬁnancial dependence upon his northern neighbour. Russian tutelage over Persia, in turn, might bring with it Russia’s establishment at a strategic point on the Persian Gulf.⁶⁹ Anxious to nip any such scheme in the bud, but unable to raise a Persian loan out of British or Indian revenues, Lansdowne seized upon the idea of a joint Anglo-Russian loan. This would give Britain some degree of control over Russian proceedings in Persia: ‘what we desired was not to prevent Russian commerce from ﬁnding ⁶⁵ Lansdowne to Whitehead (no. 91, secret), 14 Aug. 1901, BD ii, no. 103. ⁶⁶ MacDonald to Lansdowne (private), 3 Sept. 1901, and vice versa, 4 Sept. 1901, Lansdowne MSS, FO 800/134. ⁶⁷ Lansdowne to Satow (private), 25 Aug. 1901, Satow MSS, PRO 30/33/7/1; see Salisbury to Edward VII, 16 Aug. 1901, CAB 41/26/21. ⁶⁸ Curzon to Selborne (private), 29 May 1901, Selborne MSS, Selborne 10. ⁶⁹ Britain’s regional strategic objectives are outlined in draft despatch Lansdowne to Hardinge, ? Sept. 1901, Lansdowne MSS, FO 800/137. The despatch was not sent. The loan discussion can be followed in FO 60/645; see D. McLean, Britain and the Buffer State: The Collapse of the Persian Empire, 1890–1914 (London, 1979), 60–2.

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an outlet in the Persian Gulf, but to debar Russia from establishing a military or naval station, or from acquiring . . . a privileged [commercial] position in those waters’.⁷⁰ In light of his own recent experience, Salisbury did not favour negotiations with Russia. He wearily predicted that talks would remain fruitless: ‘She will pretend to consider it, will waste time in colourable negotiations, and when she has arranged matters to her own liking will decline any cooperation with us.’ The premier’s pessimism was well-founded, though the negotiations at St Petersburg were brought to an even earlier termination than Salisbury had anticipated. Despite initially signalling his interest, Lamsdorff rejected the proposed joint loan scheme. Signiﬁcantly, he attempted to inveigle Hardinge into agreeing that Lansdowne’s proposal suggested disinterestedness in Manchurian affairs.⁷¹ The Hardinge–Lamsdorff interview of 3 November was a clear indication that Russia’s main foreign policy priorities still lay in China. An Asiatic agreement with Russia, then, was evidently not to be had. Other options could now be pursued. If Lansdowne had not foreclosed on the option of an arrangement with Germany, he had nevertheless become critical of her policy, again as a result of Middle Eastern developments. The German Baghdad railway project raised the prospect of Germany establishing a commercial outlet somewhere on the Shatt-el-Arab, possibly in Kuwait which was under a de facto British protectorate. The Kuwait negotiations were a reminder that Germany had the ability to cause fresh problems for British diplomacy, but had little inclination to help to solve existing ones. ‘The Germans as usual have behaved shabbily’, Lansdowne observed resignedly. Berlin’s hard line in the Kuwait question reﬂected Bülow’s conviction that Britain was a declining Power, and that any arrangement would have to be made on Germany’s terms.⁷² A press war, triggered by an injudicious speech by Chamberlain in October further embittered Anglo-German relations.⁷³ Even those who had earlier supported a rapprochement, grew perceptibly cooler. Hamilton’s change of ⁷⁰ Memo. Lansdowne, ‘Financial Assistance to Persia’, 22 Oct. 1901, CAB 37/58/101. On the ﬁnancial aspects, see min. Hicks Beach, 12 Oct. 1901, Lansdowne MSS, FO 800/137; F. Kazemzadeh, Russia and Britain in Persia, 1864–1914 (New Haven, 1968), 352–8. ⁷¹ Salisbury to Lansdowne, 18 Oct. 1901, Lansdowne MSS, FO 800/137; Hardinge to Bertie, 30 Nov. and 8 Nov. 1901, Bertie MSS, Add. MSS. 63014; Neilson, Last Tsar, 221. ⁷² Lansdowne to Hamilton, 9 Sept. 1901, Lansdowne MSS, Lans (5) 28; Sanderson to Lansdowne, 5 Sept. 1901, and min. Lansdowne, n.d., Lansdowne MSS, FO 800/115; see J. B. Kelly, ‘Salisbury, Curzon and the Kuwait Agreement of 1899’, Studies in International History, ed. K. Bourne and D. C. Watt (London, 1967), 249–90. ⁷³ Lascelles to Chirol (private), 24 Nov. 1901 (copy), Lascelles MSS, FO 800/18; C. D. Penner, ‘The Bülow–Chamberlain Recriminations of 1900–1’, TH v, 2 (1943), 97–109.

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heart was typical. Britain, he complained, had aided several German initiatives in recent years. In return ‘they seem to be more hostile to us than even Frenchmen or Russians’. Britain, however, was weakened internationally, and so had ‘to sit tight and quiet’.⁷⁴ By the autumn of 1901 there was, then, clarity on three points: no Asiatic arrangement with Russia was to be had, as Lamsdorff’s attitude over Persia and Manchuria made clear; and German attempts to obstruct British policy on the Boxer indemnity and Shanghai evacuation, and her prolixity over Kuwait had demonstrated the difﬁculty of converting the idea of an Anglo-German agreement into practical steps. The current cross-Channel war of words made even the principle of that idea appear doubtful. This left the Japanese option. In August, the Cabinet had authorized Lansdowne to negotiate, but the talks had been left in abeyance during the parliamentary recess, as Lansdowne was anxious to pursue the Russian and German options. Since Russia’s retraction of the Ts’êng–Alekse’ev agreement in the spring, there was no real sense of urgency in Whitehall. Still, Britain’s international problems remained the focus of internal discussions. Irrespective of Salisbury’s memorandum of 29 May—indeed conﬁrming that its signiﬁcance has been signally overrated in the scholarly literature—there was a broad consensus in the Cabinet that Britain’s position among the Powers was much diminished. The dual Boer–Boxer crisis had paralysed British foreign policy; and it had revealed the potential risks entailed in the global dispersion of Britain’s imperial interests and resources. Doubts were raised about Britain’s ability to deal with the surprise test of a major conﬂict. How would Britain fare in a ‘naval Colenso’? Balfour and Hamilton agreed on the current weakness of the Empire: ‘we were for practical purposes only a third-rate Power . . . [but] with interests which are conﬂicting and crossing those of the great powers of Europe’. Both acknowledged the Empire’s ‘enormous strength, both effective and latent’. This strength, however, could only be brought to bear ‘if we can concentrate’.⁷⁵ The three (Russian, German, and Japanese) options Lansdowne had in sight in the second half of 1901 all pursued the same objective; they were attempts to blunt current or potential future challenges to Britain’s global, imperial interests. ⁷⁴ Hamilton to Curzon (private), 22 Nov. 1901, Hamilton MSS, MSS.Eur.C.126/3. ⁷⁵ Hamilton to Curzon (private), 4 July 1901, ibid.. For further details see A. J. Marder, The Anatomy of British Sea Power: A History of British Naval Policy in the Pre-Dreadnought Era, 1880–1905 (London, repr. 1964), 375–80; R. Williams, Defending the Empire: The Conservative Party and British Defence Policy, 1899–1915 (New Haven, 1991), 27–9.

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Of the three options, the Japanese emerged as the only viable one during the autumn. Whilst the approaches to Russia and Germany envisaged exclusively diplomatic means to ameliorate the effects of isolation, ﬁnancial and naval factors affected the notion of a Japanese understanding. Beach’s demands for a reduction in the China Field Force on ﬁnancial grounds and Bertie’s emphasis on the naval advantages of a Japanese arrangement created a new dynamic in British strategic and foreign policy thinking. Financial considerations also shaped British naval policy. Combined, the two brought the Japanese option into sharper focus. Bertie had already acknowledged the linkage between the two. British naval intelligence followed closely Japan’s efforts ‘to maintain a ﬂeet strong enough to ﬁght a combination of Russia and France’.⁷⁶ In September 1901, the Earl of Selborne, now First Lord of the Admiralty, took up the issue of the Japanese option. The cost of naval defence had risen substantially since the mid-1890s. This was caused by technological changes in battleship design and the rise of foreign naval competition. Over all, during the period between the adoption of the ‘Two-Power-Standard’ under the 1889 Naval Defence Act and 1904 the production costs per battleship doubled, that of cruisers rose ﬁvefold. British war planning was still principally concerned with the eventuality of a conﬂict with the Franco-Russian combination.⁷⁷ The expansion and acceleration of the French and Russian naval armament programmes forced the Admiralty to increase Britain’s narrow margin of superiority by laying down six further armoured cruisers in 1901–2. Efforts to economize by restricting the size of the vessels, however, reduced their effectiveness. Worse, the growing number of foreign Powers willing to challenge Britain’s naval position increased the pressure on resources. Britain’s naval strength was ‘inadequate if applied to a possible war against France in alliance with Russia’. For Britain, prevailing over the enemy combination was ‘a condition of continued existence as an Empire’. Even a victory over the combined Franco-Russian naval forces might be bought at considerable cost in materiel and inﬂicting comparable damage on the enemy. In light of its global dispersal, and more especially of its Chinese commitments, ⁷⁶ Min. Hulbert, 1 Aug. [1901], on Whitehead to Lansdowne (no. 68), 21 June 1901, ADM 1/7553. Commander Hulbert also noted a signiﬁcant decrease in expenditure as forecast in the Japanese naval estimates, memo. Hulbert, ‘Japanese Naval Estimates, 1901–2’, n.d., ibid. ⁷⁷ ‘Memorandum on Present Arrangements for war in the Mediterranean with France and Russia’, Mar. 1902, ADM 121/75; see K. Neilson, ‘The Anglo-Japanese Alliance and British Strategic Foreign Policy, 1902–1914’, paper at STICERD conference, Glasgow, 12 Sept. 2002; for details see J. T. Sumida, In Defence of Naval Supremacy: Finance, Technology, and British Naval Policy 1889–1914 (London, 1990), 18–20.

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Selborne noted, the Royal Navy had little more than a bare equality of strength in the Mediterranean and the home waters. He warned that ‘bare equality at the heart of Empire is a dangerous risk’. Entering upon a contest with France and Russia, therefore, entailed ‘too grave a risk’. Selborne’s analysis of the naval defence situation was a direct refutation of Salisbury’s contention at the end of May that there was no real danger in isolation. Britain’s strategic position vis-àvis France and Russia, Salisbury’s son-in-law contended, could be improved by means of a Japanese alliance. Such a combination would allow Britain to reduce the number of vessels on the China Station, and concentrate forces in European waters, where the decisive battles in a contest with the Franco-Russe would be fought. No further increase in naval spending would be required. Selborne envisaged a naval defence pact, with the casus foederis triggered by a Russo-French attack upon either Power. An Anglo-Japanese combination, he advised, would ‘add materially to the naval strength of this country . . . and effectively diminish the probability of a naval war with France or Russia singly or in combination’.⁷⁸ Some allowance ought to be made for the vague use of the term ‘alliance’ in Selborne’s memorandum. However, its main thrust went beyond Salisbury’s and Bertie’s earlier suggestions of an understanding in defence of the status quo in Korea and the Yangtze. Lansdowne concurred with Selborne, and argued that the Japanese were ‘very keen to go on and are preparing a deﬁnite proposal’.⁷⁹ The First Sea Lord, Admiral Lord Walter Kerr, also supported a Japanese alliance. He admitted that it would mark ‘a new departure in policy’. Nevertheless, he was convinced that given the rapid growth of foreign navies ‘our hitherto followed policy of “splendid isolation” may no longer be possible . . . The strain . . . put on our naval resources with all our wide world interests is, in view of the feverish developments of other nations, being subjected to a heavier strain they can well bear . . . and any relief that can in reason be obtained would be most welcome.’⁸⁰ Concerns about overstretched naval resources were reinforced by Beach’s insistence on further economies in departmental estimates. Selborne resisted Beach’s attempt to dictate naval policy. Current naval expenditure was ‘barely sufﬁcient to maintain our battle ﬂeet in a position to cope successfully with France & Russia combined & protect our commerce in a naval war’.⁸¹ ⁷⁸ Memo. Selborne, ‘Balance of Naval Power in the Far East’, 4 Sept. 1901, CAB 37/58/81; also Z. S. Steiner, ‘Great Britain and the Creation of the Anglo-Japanese Alliance’, JMH xxxi, 1 (1959), 29–31. ⁷⁹ Lansdowne to Selborne, 10 Sept. 1901, Selborne MSS 26. ⁸⁰ Kerr to Selborne (secret), 2 Sept. 1901, Selborne MSS, Selborne 27 (also in SelP, 123). ⁸¹ Selborne to Chamberlain (private), 21 Sept. 1901, Chamberlain MSS, JC 11/32/13; Hicks Beach to Salisbury (private), 9 and 16 Sept. 1901, Salisbury MSS, 3M/E/Hicks Beach (1899–1902);

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Selborne and Kerr mounted a vigorous rearguard action. The First Sea Lord insisted that British naval superiority ‘ought to be self-contained’. He regarded any arrangement with Japan as purely temporary. Though allowing for Britain’s naval forces to be concentrated, ‘the continued good will of an Oriental nation’ formed an uncertain basis.⁸² Selborne defended his estimates, and highlighted the ﬁnancial and strategic beneﬁts of the proposed Japanese combination. The Franco-Russian naval build-up remained the single most important challenge to Britain’s imperial interests; and he attributed the rise in naval expenditure exclusively to ‘the efforts of France and Russia to establish a naval superiority over this country’. Budget cuts meant ‘falling into inferiority of strength’, and so increased the risk of war. Only the margin of security implied in the ‘Two-Power-Standard’ would give Britain ‘a reasonable certainty of success in a war with France and Russia’. Thus far, Selborne’s memorandum merely adumbrated the established consensus on imperial defence. However, he argued further that the security margin was necessary also in order to provide against other eventualities: ‘With no margin, we should be susceptible to the least hostile hint or pressure from any one of the new naval Powers at a time of war or strained relations with France and Russia’. Given her own consistent naval programme and her past attempts to exploit British difﬁculties, Germany in particular would be ‘in a commanding position’ in the event of complications with the Franco-Russe. While its naval forces were stationed to square up to Britain on ‘the chess board of the Western Mediterranean’, Russia had deployed a powerful squadron in Far Eastern waters. This reinforced her terrestrial menace to British interests in China. The Russian threat was checked to some extent by Japan’s ﬂeet, but as Japan’s ﬁnancial resources were limited, Russia was well positioned to acquire a regional naval superiority over Britain and Japan. An Anglo-Japanese combination would counteract this.⁸³ Selborne’s plea for such a combination did not mark a new departure in British thinking. Rather, it threw into sharper relief the ongoing concerns about foreign challenges to Britain’s global interests, and reducing her exposure to political blackmail, which actuated Lansdowne’s search for agreements with Russia, Germany, or Japan. To that extent also Selborne’s memoranda of the memo. Hicks Beach, ‘Financial Difﬁculties: Appeal for Economy in Estimates’, Oct. 1901, CAB 37/58/109. The memorandum was written in mid-September, see copy in Selborne MSS 117. ⁸² Kerr to Selborne, 5 Oct. 1901, Selborne MSS, Selborne 26. ⁸³ Memo. Selborne, ‘The Navy Estimates and the Chancellor of the Exchequer’s Memorandum on the Growth of Expenditure’, 16 Nov. 1901, CAB 37/59/118.

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autumn of 1901 emphasized the strands of continuity between Salisburian ‘isolationism’ and the position of the so-called ‘anti-isolationists’. Balfour, who had read an early draft of Selborne’s memorandum, fully approved his argument. Budgetary constraints and requirements had created a powerful new logic, but he warned that naval strategy ‘forms only a part, though perhaps the most important part of our Imperial policy, military, ﬁnancial and diplomatic, which . . . gives me . . . the greatest anxiety’.⁸⁴ That anxiety was shared by Lansdowne. He instructed Bertie to revise his earlier July memorandum, which had stressed the naval advantages of a Japanese alliance. Now, he wove diplomatic considerations and Selborne’s naval rationale into a new argument in favour of an alliance. German policy, he argued, was irreconcilable with Britain’s wider interests. An Anglo-Japanese alliance, by contrast, would strengthen British diplomacy in much the same way a naval combination with the Asian island Power would improve Britain’s naval position. Foreign Ofﬁce thinking was now beginning to take more deﬁnite shape. What Lansdowne revealingly described in his marginal notes on Bertie’s memorandum as a ‘Japanese entente’ was to provide for British naval and ﬁnancial assistance to Japan in resisting a Russian occupation of Korea; this would allow for closer coordination of the regional policies of both parties and it would pledge them not to conclude separate agreements with other Powers. Lansdowne also laid special stress on the practical naval steps involved in cooperating with Japan.⁸⁵ Lansdowne’s preferred nomenclature is further indication of the gradual evolution of ofﬁcial thinking from Salisbury’s ﬁrst toying with the notion of an entente earlier in the year. The ﬁrst meeting between Lansdowne and Hayashi in the autumn took place on 16 October. Even though he had been equipped with full negotiating powers, the Japanese minister conﬁned himself to generalities. This may well have reﬂected the fact that an inﬂuential section of Japan’s political elite, led by Itf himself, favoured an arrangement with Russia. Itf, in fact, was on his way to St Petersburg for exploratory talks. Hayashi opened the interview by probing Lansdowne’s views as to the desirability of including Germany in any arrangement between London and Tokyo, an idea Hayashi (and Eckardstein) had advanced in the summer. Lansdowne poured cold water on the idea, and suggested an understanding about their respective requirements in the Far East ⁸⁴ Balfour to Selborne, 25 Oct. 1901, Selborne MSS 26. ⁸⁵ Memo. Bertie, 22 Sept. 1901, and marginal notes by Lansdowne, FO 17/1507. For Lansdowne’s request see letter to Bertie (private), 27 Aug. 1901, Bertie MSS, FO 800/163. On the link between the July and September memoranda, see Nish, Anglo-Japanese Alliance, 177–8.

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ﬁrst. In the course of the conversation, the skeleton of the future arrangement emerged. Hayashi and Lansdowne generally agreed that it should be a defensive alliance, which would become effective only if either party were attacked by two Powers; that Japan’s special interests in the Korean peninsula were to be safeguarded; and that London and Tokyo would not enter into separate regional agreements with other Powers. He also stressed the need for some form of technical understanding concerning the mutual use of docks, harbour facilities, and coaling stations—a clear attempt by the Foreign Secretary to give practical meaning to Selborne’s and Bertie’s arguments about the putative naval advantages of a Japanese alliance.⁸⁶ Following the meeting with Hayashi, Lansdowne outlined the basis of an agreement for Salisbury’s approval. The principal provision of his ‘preliminary sketch’ was that Britain and Japan would observe ‘benevolent neutrality’ in the event of a war involving either party with one other Power. In essence, this reverted to Lansdowne’s idea, ﬁrst developed in his conversations with Eckardstein in the spring, of ‘holding the ring’ in the event of a Russo-Japanese conﬂict. Signiﬁcantly, Salisbury signalled his general agreement with the draft treaty.⁸⁷ It may be inferred, then, that for Salisbury Lansdowne’s proposal did not differ substantively from his own suggestion of an Anglo-Japanese entente in defence of the status quo along the East Asian littoral. The Cabinet approved Lansdowne’s draft on 5 November, though there was some, albeit disorganized, dissent. According to Balfour’s later recollections, the ministers treated the proposal ‘in the main as one conﬁned to the Far East’.⁸⁸ The limited, strictly regional interpretation of the envisaged arrangement may well have been a reﬂection of Lansdowne’s arguments during the meeting. He certainly emphasized its limited nature in later discussions at Cabinet level. Cabinet approval came on the back of Hardinge’s interview with Lamsdorff on 3 November. This lent greater urgency to Lansdowne’s talks with the Japanese minister. Itf’s journey to St Petersburg raised suspicions in London; as did Komura Jutarf’s emphasizing the ‘personal’ nature of the ideas advanced by Hayashi. Lansdowne passed the British draft to Hayashi on ⁸⁶ Lansdowne to Whitehead (no. 108A), 16 Oct. 1901, BD ii, no. 105. On the policy differences at Tokyo, see I. H. Nish, ‘The First Anglo-Japanese Alliance Treaty’, STICERD Discussion Papers, no. IS/02/432 (Apr. 2002), 2–3. ⁸⁷ Note Lansdowne to Salisbury, and memo. Lansdowne, both 23 Oct. and min. Salisbury, 25 Oct. 1901, FO 46/547; I. H. Nish, ‘British Foreign Secretaries and Japan, 1892–1905’, Shadow and Substance in British Foreign Policy, 1895–1939, Memorial Essays Honouring C. J. Lowe, ed. B. J. C. McKercher and D. J. Moss (Edmonton, Alb., 1984), 62–3. ⁸⁸ Balfour to Lansdowne (private), 12 Dec. 1901, Balfour MSS, Add.MSS.49727; see Salisbury to Edward VII, 5 Nov. 1901, CAB 41/26/24.

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6 November. The draft, he explained, was conﬁned to the eventuality of hostilities in China or Korea only. The precise nature of Japan’s ‘preponderant inﬂuence . . . in many parts of Corea’ emerged as one of the potential sticking points of the talks.⁸⁹ After all, Bertie’s draft ‘Japanese entente’ had envisaged British support for Japan in resisting Russian expansion in Korea; it was not meant to aid Japan in extending her inﬂuence over the peninsula. A separate diplomatic note accompanying Lansdowne’s draft agreement further stipulated close coordination of AngloJapanese naval policies in peacetime as well as reciprocal arrangements for the use of naval facilities. Lansdowne’s repeated insistence on such practical measures crystallized British naval interests. In terms of the foreign policy debates within the government, such phrases were also indicative of an emerging Foreign Ofﬁce–Admiralty axis within Whitehall in favour of a Japanese alliance.⁹⁰ Hayashi eventually submitted Tokyo’s reply on 12 December. By that time, Lansdowne’s calculations regarding the German option had ripened into a decision. A lengthy memorandum by Bertie was instrumental in this. Berlin had made constant use of ‘threats and blandishments’ to entice London to enter into a defensive alliance, the AUS observed. Britain’s international ‘isolation’ was not without advantages. Whilst ‘a powerful and sure ally’ against a Franco-Russian attack on the Empire would be a relief, Germany had to be ruled out on a number of counts. There was ‘the history of Prussia as regards alliances’ and the Bismarckian tradition of underhand diplomatic methods; combined, they had fostered a culture of deceit and double-dealing. He stressed Germany’s exposed strategic position in Europe. A British alliance against the Franco-Russian combination was, therefore, essential for Germany. Conversely, it was incumbent upon her to foster frictions between London, Paris, and St Petersburg. For all the repeated hints as to the desirability of an alliance, recent German policy over Manchuria had been ‘tortuous’ and unhelpful. No effective aid would be forthcoming from Germany in the event of a conﬂict in Asia. A formal alliance with her would force London to conduct its policy in accordance with German interests; Germany’s fear of a two-front war against France and Russia might constrain Britain’s ability to face down imperial challenges by these two Powers; and the casus foederis might be difﬁcult to deﬁne. It would ensure that Britain would ‘never be on decent terms’ ⁸⁹ MacDonald to Lansdowne (no. 137, secret), 24 Oct. 1901, and vice versa (no. 115, secret), 6 Nov. 1901, BD ii, nos. 106 and 110; Grenville, Salisbury, 399–400. ⁹⁰ British draft agreement, 6 Nov. 1901, BD ii, no. 125; Nish, Anglo-Japanese Alliance, 182–3.

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with France and Russia. Britain’s current international position enabled her to ‘hold the balance between the Triple and Dual Alliances’. In the event of a war between Britain and the latter combination, moreover, Germany could not tolerate Britain’s defeat. She would be forced to assist Britain ‘in order to avoid a like fate for herself ’. Bertie had no doubt that Germany ‘would ask for a high price for such aid, but could it be higher than what we should lose by the sacriﬁce of our liberty to pursue a British world policy, which would be the result of a formal defensive alliance with the German Empire’?.⁹¹ The memorandum testiﬁed to Bertie’s profound mistrust of German diplomatic practice. More signiﬁcantly, it was a defence of isolation, deﬁned as the avoidance of major commitments towards either of the two continental alliances. This was Salisbury’s voice speaking through Bertie. In insisting on Britain playing the role of balancer between the two alliances Bertie had also revealed something of his own brand of British neo-Bismarckianism. Along with other members of the Edwardian generation, he ‘prefer[red] the middle position of “tertius gaudens” ’.⁹² The Foreign Secretary adopted a more nuanced position. In a memorandum of 22 November, he surveyed the course of his earlier alliance discussions with Eckardstein and Hatzfeldt, but also challenged the position Salisbury had developed in his May memorandum, especially his assertion that a defensive alliance with Germany would entail ‘a much heavier burden’ for Britain than for her new partner. He questioned whether the Anglophobia that Salisbury had detected ‘in every rank of German society’ was not ‘the result of the “aloofness” of our policy’. These seemingly en passant remarks prefaced Lansdowne’s main thrust. Salisbury’s contention that there was no real danger in isolation was logically unsound: ‘we may push too far the argument that, because we have in the past survived in spite of our isolation, we need have no misgivings as to the effect of isolation in the future’. In approaching Tokyo the British government had ‘virtually admitted that we do not wish to continue to stand alone’. Lansdowne conceded that the apparent German alliance overture could no longer be entertained. In this, he adopted part of Bertie’s counterarguments. More especially he fastened on the difﬁculty of deﬁning the casus foederis in a manner satisfactory to both parties, as well as the detrimental effect a German ⁹¹ Memo. Bertie, 9 Nov. 1901, BD ii, no. 91; cf. draft memo. Bertie, n.d. [27 Oct. 1901?], FO 64/1539, which is often pithier than the printed version. ⁹² Cranborne to Bertie, [12 Apr.] 1903, Bertie MSS, Add.MSS. 63015; T. G. Otte, ‘The Elusive Balance: British Foreign Policy and the French Entente before the First World War’, Anglo-French Relations in the Twentieth Century: Rivalry and Cooperation, ed. A. Sharp and G. Stone (London and New York, 2000), 16–17.

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alliance would have on Britain’s relations with France and Russia. If he ruled out a full alliance with Germany for the moment, he still regarded ‘more limited understandings with Germany’ as feasible. Regional agreements regarding the Mediterranean or the Persian Gulf might complement the China Agreement of October 1900. He followed Bertie’s suggestion that such arrangements should be modelled on the 1887 agreements with Vienna and Rome; joint measures were ‘to be decided upon when occasion arose’. Although an exchange of declarations of this kind fell well short of what Eckardstein and Hatzfeldt had seemingly suggested, Lansdowne concluded that ‘as a tentative and preliminary step it might not be without value’.⁹³ To what this step was to be preliminary, was left open. Still, it gives a posteriori support for Eckardstein’s claims in early 1901 that Lansdowne and Chamberlain had suggested regional agreements as a ﬁrst step towards an eventual alliance between the two countries. At Salisbury’s suggestion, the Foreign Secretary drafted a more precise outline of an Anglo-German agreement in early December. It revived the principle of the 1887 accords à trois, now extended to the Persian Gulf. It ‘would amount to little more than a declaration of common policy and of a desire to maintain close diplomatic relations’, and prevent a Russo-German presence in the Persian Gulf. But such limited agreement would not satisfy German expectations, he reasoned. Berlin was likely to reject an overture along these lines, ‘and we shall have put it out of their power to accuse us of having “dropped” them’. To some extent, then, any such overture was little more than a tactical means. To Salisbury’s mind the proposed arrangement seemed ‘full of risks and to carry with it no compensating advantage’. Still, he agreed for the matter to be discussed at the next Cabinet meeting.⁹⁴ While Lansdowne was edging closer to a decision against the German option, Hayashi returned to the Foreign Ofﬁce on 12 December to hand over Tokyo’s amendments. The procrastination on the part of Japan reﬂected the slow, consensus-oriented nature of the Japanese decison-making process, which required the consultation of the elder statesmen of the Genrf. Moreover, while Itf was exploring the option of a deal with Russia at St Petersburg, no real progress could be made in the London talks.⁹⁵ In the course of the interview, ⁹³ Memo. Lansdowne (very secret), 22 Nov. 1901, FO 64/1655. Gooch and Temperley give 11 Nov. as the date, though the memorandum is dated 22 Nov. in Lansdowne’s own hand. ⁹⁴ Memo. Lansdowne, 4 Dec. and min. Salisbury, 6 Dec. 1901, BD ii, no. 93. The Cabinet met on 13 December, Salisbury to Edward VII, 13 Dec. 1901, CAB 41/26/27. ⁹⁵ Hardinge to Lansdowne (no. 331, conﬁdential), 26 Nov. 1901, and Scott to Lansdowne (no. 343, very conﬁdential), 11 Dec. 1901, BD ii, nos. 76 and 114; see Nish, ‘First Anglo-Japanese Alliance’, 5–7.

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Hayashi stressed that a geographical extension of the agreement, to cover India, the Singapore Straits or Siam, would not be acceptable. Instead, the Japanese wanted a binding commitment by both parties to maintain in Chinese waters a naval force ‘superior in efﬁcacy’ to any other naval Power in the Far East. This amounted to a joint regional One-Power-Standard. Lansdowne, who had insisted on practical naval cooperation as part of the agreement, refused. Such commitment reduced London’s ability to determine the strength of its naval forces ‘in any part of the world, a strength which would have to be determined by Imperial considerations, rather than with reference to purely local conditions’. He was reluctant also to recognize Japan’s right to take ‘suitable measures’ to protect her interests in Korea. Since the British did not know the terms of the Franco-Russian alliance, such recognition ran the risk of embroiling Britain in a global war with France and Russia ‘over matters of purely local interest’ to Japan.⁹⁶ Quite clearly, the projected arrangement would not provide an easy solution to the problems of Britain’s imperial dispersal. The risks inherent in the Japanese option formed the subject of a wider debate of Britain’s strategic problems between Lansdowne and Balfour before the Cabinet meeting. The latter was concerned about the strategic and diplomatic portents of a Japanese alliance; he deprecated ‘the perhaps rather hasty decision’ of 5 November to approve of Lansdowne’s talks with Hayashi. Rather than reduce the risk of conﬂict, ‘we may ﬁnd ourselves ﬁghting for our existence in every part of the Globe against Russia and France . . . over some obscure Russian-Japanese quarrel in Corea’. This did not differ substantially from Lansdowne’s position in his interview with Hayashi earlier on the same day. However, Balfour tackled the question on a broader front. Having offered to enter into an alliance, Britain had now admitted that she could no longer avoid binding engagements with other Powers in peacetime. This begged the question of the comparative advantages of a Japanese and a German alliance. Balfour had not lost sight of the broad canvas of Britain’s global interests. Either alliance would bring Britain into collision with the Franco-Russian group. It might be sparked off by events in the Far East, but was unlikely to be conﬁned to that locale, and would spread to ‘the Channel, the Mediterranean, the frontier of India, and our great lines of commercial communication’. Although he had always acknowledged the symptomatic signiﬁcance of the Chinese problem since the mid-1890s, Balfour did not admit Britain’s regional interests to ⁹⁶ Lansdowne to MacDonald (no. 128, secret), 12 Dec. 1901, BD ii, no. 115; memo. Lansdowne, ‘Anglo-Japanese Agreement’, 16 Dec. 1901, CAB 37/59/133.

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be ‘vital’; nor did he accept that they would best be safeguarded by means of an agreement with a regional Power. The keystone of the British Empire was India; and all alliance calculations had to be centred on imperial defence requirements. India’s northwestern frontier was the ‘weakest spot in the Empire’; a war with Russia would strain Britain’s ‘military resources . . . to the utmost’. Time, and the advances in military technology, were on Russia’s side, so strengthening her ‘position . . . for aggressive purposes in this part of the world’. Any quarrel with Russia meant the invasion of India. If Britain were without allies, France would be tempted ‘joining in the fray. Our position would then be perilous.’ Noting the terms of the draft treaty and Hayashi’s stipulation that India be excluded from the alliance, Balfour concluded that a combination with Japan was worthless in such an eventuality. This would not be the case, ‘if we were to be joined by the Triple Alliance. The very fact that they were bound to join in would probably prevent France throwing in her lot with Russia.’ In his detailed examination of Britain’s strategic position, Balfour established a link between Britain’s imperial interests and the conﬁguration of the Great Powers in Europe. His map of the Empire had strongly European contours. He contended that an understanding with the Triple Alliance would serve Britain’s interests better than the narrower alliance with Japan. Balfour envisaged a general security arrangement for the Empire, based upon a European alliance: It is a matter of supreme moment to us that Italy should not be crushed, that Austria should not be dismembered, and, as I think, that Germany should not be squeezed to death between the hammer of Russia and the anvil of France. If, therefore, we had to ﬁght for the central European Powers, we should be ﬁghting for our own interests, and for those of civilization, to an extent which cannot be alleged with regard to Japan.⁹⁷

For Balfour a Japanese alliance might protect non-vital, regional interests, but any advantages would be outweighed by its inherent risks and liabilities. Balfour’s intervention on the eve of the crucial Cabinet meeting was a last-ditch attempt to abort a Japanese alliance, and to salvage what was left of the idea of a rapprochement with the Triple Alliance. It was also a form of countermemorandum to Salisbury’s exposition of the problems of an alliance with

⁹⁷ Balfour to Lansdowne (private), 12 Dec. 1901, Balfour MSS, Add.MSS. 49727; D. Judd, Balfour and the British Empire: A Study in Imperial Evolution, 1874–1932 (London, 1968), 67–8; E. W. Edwards, ‘The Prime Minister and Foreign Policy: the Balfour Government, 1902–1905, British Government and Administration: Studies Presented to S. B. Chrimes, ed. H. Hearder and H. R. Loyn (London, 1974), 207–8.

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Germany of 29 May, albeit in that ingeniously indirect manner so typical of Balfour’s ofﬁcial dealings. Lansdowne’s reply to Balfour’s intervention was as swift as it was selective. It reﬂected his narrower conception of Britain’s current strategic problems. He admitted the force of Balfour’s argument, but pointed out the advantages of the limited nature of the prospective alliance with Tokyo. The likelihood of the casus foederis being triggered was signiﬁcantly lower than would be the case with a German alliance. Indeed, Lansdowne contended that the ‘area of entanglement’ under a Japanese alliance would be more restricted. As it was in Britain’s interest to preserve Japan as a regional Great Power—an interest Balfour acknowledged—a formal alliance merely made this fact public; and London could ‘get what we can out of the bargain’.⁹⁸ As in his memorandum of 4 December on an arrangement with Germany, Lansdowne showed himself more preoccupied with questions of diplomatic tactics rather than strategic calculations. Crucially, he also continued to move in line with Salisbury’s narrower concept of Britain’s imperial security requirements. Balfour’s intervention seems to have been forceful enough to rally some of the dissenting voices during the Cabinet meeting of 13 December. It was decided to defer any further discussions of the Japanese terms until 19 December; and Lansdowne undertook to explain to the German ambassador in general terms ‘our views on this question of Japan, in order that Germany should have no grounds for complaining that we had observed reticence to her’. This was no major concession on Lansdowne’s part, for it was still in line with the tactical position he had developed in his December memorandum. On 16 December Hayashi communicated Komura’s latest draft.⁹⁹ However, there was no real movement in the talks. Lansdowne eventually met Count Metternich, Hatzfeldt’s successor, three days later. He recapitulated the course of his informal talks with Eckardstein and Hatzfeldt, who had placed before him the proposal ‘that the British Empire should join the Triple Alliance’. Having considered the idea carefully, the government had concluded that ‘it was undoubtedly . . . a very stiff fence to ride at’. The British public was suspicious of foreign entanglements and commitments; Germany was suffering from periodic bouts of Anglophobia; and ⁹⁸ Lansdowne to Balfour (private), 12 Dec. 1901, Balfour MSS, Add.MSS. 49727; see Rolo, ‘Lansdowne’, 162; Newton, Lansdowne, 246. ⁹⁹ Salisbury to Edward VII, 13 Dec. 1901, CAB 41/26/27; memo. Lansdowne, ‘Anglo-Japanese Agreement’, 16 Dec. 1901, CAB 37/59/133; A. Cohen, ‘Joseph Chamberlain, Lord Lansdowne and British Foreign Policy, 1901–1903: From Collaboration to Confrontation’, AJPH xliii, 2 (1997), 126–7.

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Britain’s relations with the other Powers were ‘not unfriendly, and our sudden adhesion to the German group might have unfortunate effects in other quarters’. Although not indifferent to the German offer, Lansdowne concluded that practical difﬁculties meant that ‘for the moment we could not afford to take it up’, and suggested limited Anglo-German regional cooperation, which Metternich rejected. The interview of 19 December, thus, ﬁnally brought to a close the often farcical pourparlers for an Anglo-German alliance.¹⁰⁰ It also meant that Britain would not enter into arrangements with Germany, ‘wh[ich] w[oul]d prevent or impede the development of good relations with Russia and if possible with France’.¹⁰¹ Throughout the interview Lansdowne adhered to the line set out in early December. Signiﬁcantly, he did not ‘give [Metternich] a general indication of our views on this question of Japan’, as had been requested by Hayashi and agreed by the Cabinet on 13 December.¹⁰² That the Foreign Secretary complied with the request is strongly indicative of his determination now to bring the Japanese option to a successful conclusion. Not informing Metternich, no doubt, also reduced the risk of premature leaks either in the British press or at St Petersburg. Despite Balfour’s earlier efforts to rally opposition against the agreement, there was no substantive disagreement at the Cabinet on 19 December. The ministers rejected the Japanese suggestion of ﬁxed naval forces in Far Eastern waters, and ‘desired that the Japanese engagements should extend to India and Siam’. Lansdowne acquainted Hayashi with the outcome of the deliberations in the evening of 19 December. However, no real progress was made during the interview as the Japanese minister would not move from his previous position.¹⁰³ A serious domestic political crisis in Tokyo eventually broke the deadlock. The Katsura government was anxious for an early settlement of the alliance. During his sojourn at St Petersburg, meanwhile, Itf had come to change his priorities: the talks with the British should be concluded before any negotiations with Russia could commence. Japan’s senior elder statesman arrived in London on 24 December, and was fêted by King, Prime Minister, and the City of London Corporation. On New Year’s Eve, Hayashi returned to the Foreign ¹⁰⁰ Lansdowne to Lascelles (no. 393A, secret), 19 Dec. 1901, BD ii, no. 94; memo. Metternich, 28 Dec. 1901, GP xvii, no. 5030. The two accounts are remarkably similar. However, Metternich does not mention Lansdowne’s idea of a limited bilateral understanding. ¹⁰¹ Min. Austen Chamberlain (?), n.d., on draft despatch Lansdowne to Lascelles (no. 393A), 19 Dec. 1901, CAB 37/59/141. ¹⁰² Salisbury to Edward VII, 13 Dec. 1901, CAB 41/26/27; memo. Lansdowne, 4 Dec. 1901, and Lansdowne to MacDonald (no. 132, very secret), 19 Dec. 1901, BD ii, nos. 93 and 117. ¹⁰³ Salisbury to Edward VII, 19 Dec. 1901, CAB 41/26/28; note Hayashi to Lansdowne, 19 Dec. 1901, CAB 37/59/143.

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Ofﬁce, and handed Lansdowne a further memorandum, and urged that ‘no time should be lost in concluding the Agreement’. With Salisbury’s consent, Lansdowne circulated the latest Japanese memorandum to the Cabinet on 1 January.¹⁰⁴ On the following day, he had an exhaustive discussion with Itf at Bowood. The Japanese elder statesman assured him that Japan did not seek ‘a “double-handed” arrangement’ regarding Korea. In their ﬁnal conversation on 6 January he also intimated that a Russo-Japanese agreement was no longer a realistic option. The two interviews with the Japanese elder statesman gave Lansdowne the reassurance he had sought. The notion that Lansdowne talked Itf into accepting the alliance, by contrast, is untenable, for the former had already decided to abandon the Russian option.¹⁰⁵ Lansdowne’s December memorandum caused an unexpected response. The chancellor reiterated his reservations about the concessions entailed in the draft treaty, which outweighed any possible gains. Beach’s reservations were only to be expected: ‘but I should object to it if the Admiralty made this grounds for requiring a larger navy. If there is any good to be got from this treaty, it is that the Japanese navy in certain eventualities lessens demand on our navy in war.’¹⁰⁶ More formidable and surprising opposition came from a different quarter. In a lengthy memorandum Salisbury examined the terms of the draft treaty. Britain would ﬁnd it impossible to restrain Japan in taking actions ‘which we might regard as provocative but which she would defend upon the ground that they were forced upon her by the conduct of Russia’. This was the crux of the matter, as had already been discussed by the Cabinet on 19 December. The existing drafts pledged Britain to support ‘Japanese action in Corea and in all China against France and Russia, no matter what the casus belli may be’. This went signiﬁcantly beyond the limited entente in defence of the status quo along the littoral of the Asian mainland, which Salisbury had thrown into the discussion nearly twelve months previously. His verdict was drastic: ‘There is no limit: and no escape. We are pledged to war, though the conduct of our ally may have been followed in spite of our strongest remonstrances, and may be avowedly regarded by us with clear disapprobation.’ Such a pledge would not serve Britain’s imperial interests. Japan’s ‘formal “declaration of ¹⁰⁴ Lansdowne to MacDonald (no. 133, secret), 31 Dec. 1901, BD ii, no. 119; memo. Lansdowne, ‘Anglo-Japanese Agreement’, 1 Jan. 1902, CAB 37/60/1; idem, ‘First Anglo-Japanese Alliance’, 7–9. ¹⁰⁵ Lansdowne to MacDonald (no. 2, secret), 7 Jan. 1902, BD ii, no. 120. On Itf’s visit to Bowood see the important new evidence in Nish, ‘First Anglo-Japanese Alliance’, 7–8. ¹⁰⁶ Beach to Lansdowne, 2 Jan. 1902, Lansdowne MSS, FO 800/134; Grenville, Salisbury, 414.

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non-aggressive policy” ’ gave no security: it was merely ‘a sentiment; not a stipulation’. Salisbury derided Tokyo’s argument that a regional crisis might break out, without allowing time for consultation with London. This meant the unconditional surrender into Japan’s hands of Britain’s ‘right of deciding whether we shall or shall not stake the resources of the Empire on the issue of a mighty conﬂict’. The memorandum reﬂected Salisbury’s cool cynicism in international affairs. It was unwise, he counselled, to rely ‘on the goodwill, or the prudence, or the wise policy of the present Government of Japan’. That policy might change. Unless Japan pursued a policy approved by Britain, the alliance gave Tokyo ‘the right of committing us to a war’. Salisbury did not roundly reject the idea of a Japanese agreement: ‘There is room for negotiation’; and he was optimistic that Japan would allow Britain some discretion over the issue of the casus belli. This stood in sharp contrast to his rejection of the very notion of a German alliance. His memorandum was a reasoned and constructive critique of details of the current terms of the Japanese treaty, and their potential risks; it did not reﬂect a fundamental opposition to the substance of the agreement.¹⁰⁷ As Salisbury had informed the monarch following the Cabinet meeting of 19 December, there was no substantive disagreement about the idea of a Japanese treaty. Salisbury’s memorandum merely reinforced Lansdowne’s own misgivings on certain points. He also agreed that the Japanese terms needed to be toned down. The ministers in London were fully alive to the risks entailed in the alliance; nor did they have any illusions about Japan’s ultimate ambitions in Korea. Both sides were anxious to bring the negotiations to a speedy conclusion; and both sides were ready to compromise on the remaining points. Lansdowne accepted that the agreement should apply to the Far East only; a general Asiatic alliance with Japan was not to be had. On the other hand, Hayashi desisted on the proposed ﬁxed size of the two Powers’ naval forces; and a compromise was found for the Korean problem: Japan gave assurances of non-aggressive intentions; Britain recognized Japan’s special commercial interests in Korea and admitted that Tokyo had the right to take measures to safeguard these interests if threatened by aggressive action by a third Power.¹⁰⁸ ¹⁰⁷ Memo. Salisbury, 7 Jan. 1902, CAB 37/60/3. For a different view, see Charmley, Splendid Isolation?, 303. ¹⁰⁸ For the text of the treaty, see BD ii, no. 125; see Lansdowne to MacDonald (private), 9 Jan. 1902, FO 800/134. The best treatment of the ﬁnal phase of negotiations remains Nish, Anglo-Japanese Alliance, 211–18; see also Hayashi, Secret Memoirs, 170–95.

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Following the publication of the alliance treaty, Lansdowne was relieved that there had not been ‘a more widespread reluctance to abandon our old policy of isolation’.¹⁰⁹ This was at least partially misleading, for Britain had not abandoned ‘isolation’, nor had Lansdowne intended to abandon it. True, the 1902 alliance was the ﬁrst such combination in peacetime. But it was less entangling than the term ‘alliance’ suggested, and, as the Cabinet discussions immediately before the outbreak of the Russo-Japanese War would show, it was not regarded as strictly binding by British ministers. Lansdowne expected the alliance to safeguard British interests in China, without involving European commitments. Additional expenditure, which the Treasury sought to curb, could thus be avoided. Moreover, the alliance seemed to undermine the rationale of a break with isolationism, which Chamberlain and others had advocated earlier. The compact with Tokyo, then, had the added advantage of containing Chamberlain’s potential threat from within the Unionist alliance. Thus, the Anglo-Japanese alliance emphasized Britain’s continued aloofness from Europe, rather than marking the end of ‘splendid isolation’.¹¹⁰ The combination of British and Japanese naval forces established a new Russo-Japanese balance of power in northern China and in Korea. Though delicately poised, it provided something of a strategic umbrella protecting Britain’s own interests in China. More immediately, there was still the issue of communicating the treaty to the other Powers. This was more than a matter of mere protocol. The chronological sequence of notiﬁcation, and the choice of Powers to be notiﬁed reﬂected the attitudes of the two allies. Japan informed the three coercive Powers of 1895, and only later the United States. This underlined the depth of the trauma of the triple intervention at the end of the Sino-Japanese War. It strongly indicated that Japan saw the ﬁrst Anglo-Japanese alliance as a reinsurance treaty against the recrudescence of the Far Eastern Dreibund. This also explains Tokyo’s refusal to agree to an extension of the arrangement to include India.¹¹¹ Lansdowne, by contrast, chose to notify Berlin before any other interested party. He remained anxious to cultivate closer ties with Germany. In this he was supported by Lascelles and the King, who instructed the ambassador to express ¹⁰⁹ Lansdowne to Curzon (private), 16 Feb. 1902, Curzon MSS, MSS.Eur. F11/151. For the parliamentary and public debate, see C. H. D. Howard, Splendid Isolation: A Study of Ideas (London, 1967), 92–5. ¹¹⁰ The argument developed by M. E. Howard, The Continental Commitment: The Dilemma of British Defence Policy in the Era of the Two World Wars (Harmondsworth, 1974 (pb)), 92–3; also Goudswaard, Aspects, 92–3. ¹¹¹ Nish, ‘First Anglo-Japanese Alliance’, 10; see tel. Alvensleben to Auswärtiges Amt (no. 37), 13 Feb. 1902, GP xvii, no. 5047.

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to the German Emperor his friendly sentiments and his ‘desire for an “entente cordiale” with him on all subjects which are of importance to both countries’.¹¹² When Lascelles informed the Emperor of the alliance, Wilhelm gave his hearty approval: ‘The noodles have had a lucid interval.’¹¹³ Lansdowne did not intend to close the door on further Anglo-German cooperation. When he informed Metternich of the conclusion of the Japanese alliance, he made it clear that he wished to continue the earlier exchange of ideas between Berlin and London.¹¹⁴ That Berlin was informed before the other Powers—even before Satow at Peking—is suggestive of the continued importance Lansdowne attached to an alignment with Germany. Coming so shortly after the failure of the AngloGerman talks, the Japanese alliance demonstrated that an agreement with Britain was not impossible, but that Britain had considerably more freedom of manoeuvre than the Germans had admitted. Improved relations with Berlin remained elusive. Even before the Japanese alliance was concluded, Bülow gave his long-awaited reply to Chamberlain’s Edinburgh speech. Despite his repeated private professions of friendly sentiments, he delivered a blistering attack on the Colonial Secretary. Domestically, the ‘biting-on-granite’ speech of 8 January was one of the most effective and popular speeches Bülow ever delivered; but its impact on Anglo-German relations was devastating. While Lansdowne claimed not to be ‘much disposed to pay attention to these little exhibitions of ill-humour’,¹¹⁵ this belied the embarrassment caused by the outburst. Hamilton was scathing: ‘I am coming round to the opinion that they [i.e.the Germans] are a detestable race, and that the more we kick them the better friends they shall be.’¹¹⁶ With a view to Bülow’s repeated private assurances of friendly sentiments, Lansdowne observed ‘that, if they want to be friends, they do not play up to us better in China’.¹¹⁷ In fact, the reverse occurred. Increased German ¹¹² Lascelles to King Edward VII (private), 27 Dec. 1901, Lascelles MSS, FO 800/18; Wilhelm II to Edward VII (private), 30 Dec. 1901, and Edward VII to Lansdowne, 5 Jan. 1902, Lansdowne MSS, FO 800/115; Mclean, Royalty and Diplomacy, 98–9. ¹¹³ Lascelles to Lansdowne (private), 8 Feb. 1902, Lansdowne MSS, FO 800/129. Lascelles’s ‘translation of the Kaiser’s utterance into diplomatic language’ read: ‘[he] received the communication with interest and satisfaction’, (despatch no. 23), 7 Feb. 1902, FO 64/1551. Lansdowne’s instructions are in tel. (no. 3), 3 Feb. 1902, FO 64/1553. ¹¹⁴ Lansdowne to Lascelles (no. 34), 3 Feb. 1902, FO 244/311; tel. Metternich to Auswärtiges Amt (no. 74), 3 Feb. 1902, GP xvii, no. 5043. ¹¹⁵ Lansdowne to Lascelles (private), 17 Jan. 1902, Lascelles MSS, FO 800/18; Rich, Holstein ii, 668–9; Winzen, ‘Weltmachtkonzept’, 386. ¹¹⁶ Hamilton to Curzon (private), 16 Jan. 1902, Hamilton MSS, MSS.Eur. C.126/3; Lascelles to Knollys (private), 17 Jan. 1902, Lascelles MSS, FO 800/18. ¹¹⁷ Lansdowne to Lascelles (private), 24 Feb. 1902, Lascelles MSS, FO 800/18. Bülow’s assurances are reported in vice versa (private), 22 Feb. 1902, Lansdowne MSS, FO 800/129.

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commercial activity in the Yangtze valley was one factor; Bülow’s duplicity over the ﬁnal evacuation of the foreign contingents from Shanghai another. In July 1902, the Peking authorities demanded the immediate evacuation of the place. Lansdowne seized upon this, and proposed an agreement between the Powers on the general withdrawal of all foreign troops. In response, Bülow embarked upon an intrigue against Britain. Convinced that he had secured French support, he demanded from the Yangtze viceroys assurances that no special advantages would be granted to Britain in the region. It was Bülow’s ultimate object to undermine the British position along the Yangtze, and to prise open the area or to obtain further exclusive rights in Shantung.¹¹⁸ The full extent of the German move, with its obvious anti-British poise, did not become apparent until October 1902. By then, a diplomatic tug-of-war had erupted, which was fought out simultaneously in London, Peking, and the provincial Yangtze capitals. Satow, forcefully aided by the British consuls in the region, launched a countermove, pledging Anglo-Japanese support for China if guarantees sought by the Germans were extended to the whole of China. When the Wai-wu Pu, the remodelled Board of Foreign Affairs, fell in with Satow’s proposals, the German intrigue was killed off; and German pretensions to exclusive rights around the Tsingtao naval base had been dealt a blow. His ham-ﬁsted intrigue foiled, Bülow was now anxious to mend fences. The German chancellor’s machinations had profoundly disturbed Lansdowne, and heightened his growing disillusionment with Germany. He accepted Satow’s assessment that the object of German policy had been a coup de théatre: ‘[they] want to tell the world that they upset our pretensions to preponderance on the Yangtze’.¹¹⁹ The melliﬂuous verbiage emanating from the Wilhelmstrasse made little impact on Lansdowne. The former supporter of a rapprochement with Berlin had become sceptical of Germany and German diplomacy. Bertie and Lansdowne dismissed Bülow’s assurances of good will as an ‘impertinent effusion’.¹²⁰ The Shanghai affair was the ﬁrst serious clash of British and German interests in China. The affair had a more profound effect, creating an unpleasant and long-lasting impression of German duplicity amongst British diplomats. Bülow and the incorrigible ways of the Auswärtiges Amt were now seen as the ¹¹⁸ Foreign Ofﬁce to India Ofﬁce (secret), 20 Aug. 1902, BD ii, no. 151; Delcassé to Prinet, 19 Aug. 1902, DDF (2) ii, no. 379; K. Kwai, ‘Anglo-German Rivalry in the Yangtze Region, 1895–1902’, PHR viii, 4 (1939), 422–4. ¹¹⁹ Satow to Lansdowne (private), 26 Oct. 1902, Lansdowne MSS, FO 800/120; and tels. (nos. 310, 319, and 328), 17, 20, and 29 Oct. 1902, FO 17/1531. For a detailed account, see Otte, ‘ “Table-Thumping” ’, 177–9. ¹²⁰ Min. Bertie, 21 Nov. 1902, FO 64/1562.

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main obstacles in the way of improved Anglo-German relations. Even over four years after the evacuation of Shanghai, Eyre Crowe cited the affair in his famous memorandum of 1 January 1907 on Britain’s relations with Germany and France as an instance of the ‘underhand and disloyal manoeuvres’ of German diplomacy.¹²¹ Lansdowne’s hopes for better relations with Germany were misplaced; nor did the Anglo-Japanese alliance improve Britain’s strategic position to the extent the Foreign Secretary and Selborne had anticipated. The two developments were linked. By April 1902, the Admiralty had reluctantly come to the conclusion ‘that Germany is building against us’; and ‘the German factor’ had now to be taken into consideration more than hitherto. Lansdowne was sanguine enough to think that the current wave of anti-British hysteria would blow over, and that the German naval programme did not pursue any overtly hostile aims. Lascelles observed that Berlin would undoubtedly encourage a conﬂict between Britain and the Franco-Russian combination, in the hope of weakening the three combatants. However, Germany could have no interest in seeing Britain eliminated as a major Power. She would then step in at the right moment, ‘and play the part of honest broker and make an excellent bargain for herself ’. For as long as she could maintain the ‘Two-Power-Standard’ Britain would be safe.¹²² This was the problem. The necessity of having to take account of the ‘German factor’ meant that the anticipated reduction in naval expenditure did not materialize. The acceleration in the Russian naval building programme exacerbated Selborne’s ‘conundrums’. The First Lord of the Admiralty and the Foreign Ofﬁce had advocated a Japanese alliance because of its assumed naval and ﬁnancial advantages. Yet, a strictly regional pact with a non-European Power proved to be useless as a means of checking the naval advances of European competitors. Thus, the Japanese treaty did not produce an ‘alliance dividend’. Instead of allowing for a ﬁnancial retrenchment, Selborne’s estimates for the 1903–4 building programme projected a substantial increase in naval expenditure. Charles T. Ritchie, Beach’s successor at the Treasury, expressed his ‘considerable concern’ at the ﬁnancial outlook, though he admitted that naval expenditure could not safely be reduced while France, Germany, and Russia ¹²¹ Memo. Crowe, ‘Memorandum on the Present State of British Relations with France and Germany’, 1 Jan. 1907, BD iii, App. A, 413; also Satow diary, 2 June 1904, Satow MSS, PRO 30/33/16/7. ¹²² Kerr to Selborne, 28 Apr. 1902, SelP, 144; Lascelles to Lansdowne (private), 25 Apr. 1902, Lansdowne MSS, FO 800/129.

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were accelerating their programmes: ‘Our hands are practically forced by the actions of others.’¹²³ The ramiﬁcations of the alliance were not all negative. Britain’s diplomatic position improved. This was at least partially caused by the end of the Boer War, as predicted by Lascelles.¹²⁴ The surprise conclusion of Britain’s arrangement with Japan also acted as a restraint upon Russian policy in China. While Russian diplomacy made ‘bonne mien à mauvais jeu’, Lamsdorff was alarmed at the news of the Anglo-Japanese alliance. The prospect of being checked demanded counter-measures, and he proposed to Montebello the conclusion of ‘un acte analogue’, guaranteeing the territorial integrity of China and Korea. His real object, however, was to neutralize the effect of the arrangement between London and Tokyo.¹²⁵ Lamsdorff envisaged a revival of Muravev’s continental bloc. As a ﬁrst step towards such a combination, he invited Germany to join the Russo-French arrangement. Although ostensibly intended to maintain the status quo in China, the agreement was to provide for triplice cooperation in the event of Britain and Japan violating China’s territorial integrity. It was a clear hint that he expected such an eventuality, and that Russia would seek territorial advantages for herself. Bülow declined to join the Russian-led Staatengruppe for the protection of East Asian interests. Having earlier refused the option of an arrangement with Britain so as to maintain his ‘free hand’ in Great Power diplomacy, he could not well do otherwise.¹²⁶ The Franco-Russian agreement of 20 March 1902 was received with some apprehension at London. It seemed to suggest that, if Russia and Japan went to war, and France supported her ally, the casus foederis under the Japanese alliance would arise after all.¹²⁷ Still, of the two combinations, the Anglo-Japanese alliance had a stronger restraining inﬂuence on Russia than vice versa. In so far as Anglo-Russian relations were concerned the Anglo-Japanese alliance had helped to calm Far Eastern affairs. The very vagueness of some aspects of the Japanese alliance had facilitated the speedy conclusion of the negotiations in January 1902. As predicted by ¹²³ Memo. Ritchie, ‘Public Finances’, 23 Dec. 1902, CAB 37/63/170; memo. Selborne, ‘Naval Estimates, 1903–4’, 10 Oct. 1902, ibid. /143; see also Sumida, Naval Supremacy, 24–6. ¹²⁴ Lascelles to Lansdowne (private), 25 Apr. 1902, Lansdowne MSS, FO 800/129. ¹²⁵ Tel. Montebello to Delcassé (no. 9), and despatch (no. 17), 12 and 13 Feb. 1902, DDF (2) ii, nos. 79 and 84. Montebello described Lamsdorff as ‘vivement impressionné’, ibid., no. 84; Loudon to Lynden de Melvil (no. 82/19), 26 Feb. 1902, BBBP (3) i, no. 545. ¹²⁶ Tel. Alvensleben to Auswärtiges Amt (no. 43), 19 Feb. 1902, and Aufzeichnung Bülow, 25 Feb. 1902, GP xvii, nos. 5049 and 5051. ¹²⁷ Stuers to Lynden de Melvil (no. 243/139), 21 Mar. 1902, BBBP (3) ii, no. 555; Scott to Lansdowne (no. 88), 20 Mar. 1902, FO 65/1641. For the text see DDF (2) ii, no. 145.

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Salisbury, and as presaged by the Franco-Russian agreement of March 1902, its real test came with a Russo-Japanese clash over Korea. Satow, who had neither been informed en détail of the Lansdowne–Hayashi talks nor been consulted, interpreted it as ‘a sort of mutual aid alliance, like the triple alliance’.¹²⁸ This was misleading. It was a strictly regional pact, designed to contain Russia and—from Britain’s perspective—to bolster Japanese conﬁdence in the face of Russian bullying. If Satow failed to read Lansdowne’s policy rationale accurately, he proved more prescient as regarded the consequences of the alliance. For years Satow had hoped for closer cooperation between the two island nations. Yet, he did not doubt that Japan would ultimately seek a military resolution of her clash of interests with Russia. At the end of the 1897–8 Far Eastern crisis, he had forecast a Russo-Japanese war for some time after 1902; in the summer of 1903 he warned that conﬂict between the two Asiatic Powers was increasingly imminent. Satow warned that Russia was likely to be victorious, and would ‘become the dominant Power in this part of the world, and will swallow up at that all of northern China’. He warned that it was not in Britain’s interest to allow Japan to be crushed: ‘if Russia is victorious over Japan then, though we shall not have lost a ship or a man, we shall be powerless in the Far East’.¹²⁹ Throughout the summer and early autumn of 1903, St Petersburg and Tokyo were engaged in protracted talks about a Korea–Manchuria deal. Russia’s dilatory tactics and insistence on Japanese recognition of Manchuria as lying outside Japan’s sphere of interest on the Asian mainland clashed with Tokyo’s growing assertiveness. From MacDonald’s vantage point it was obvious that ‘the Russians are delaying matters, and would go to any length even of signing some sort of temporary agreement to keep the Japanese quiet until such time as they (the Russians) are strong enough’.¹³⁰ At the end of the year, the distinct possibility of war triggered a detailed foreign policy debate in Whitehall. Balfour, now Prime Minister, had been sceptical of the strategic value of the Japanese alliance from its inception. There were two risks involved. If the compact with Tokyo achieved its stated objective, the containment of Russia in the Far East, then this left India even more vulnerable to a Russian land invasion. The second risk was altogether more real: the failure of the alliance to contain Russia. On 11 December, the Cabinet authorized Lansdowne ¹²⁸ Satow diary, 11 Feb. 1902, and 17 Aug. 1903, Satow MSS, PRO 30/33/16/5 and 6. ¹²⁹ Satow to Lansdowne (private), 27 Aug. 1903, Lansdowne MSS, FO 800/120; cf. Satow to Salisbury (private), 6 Apr. 1898, Salisbury MSS, 3M/A/126/38. ¹³⁰ MacDonald to Satow (private), 5 (cont. 15) Nov. 1903, Satow MSS, PRO 30/33/9/14; MacDonald to Lansdowne (no. 164, secret), 29 Oct. 1903, BD ii, no. 254.

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to warn St Petersburg that Russia’s ‘impractical attitude in Manchuria’ might draw Britain into the conﬂict; in that eventuality ‘France might ﬁnd it difﬁcult to keep out in the face of her treaty obligations’. Balfour warned the King that the idea of a general war brought about by Russian designs on northern China was ‘horrible & absurd’; yet the danger seemed real enough.¹³¹ Both antagonists were now set on a war course. Over the Christmas period, of all times, senior Cabinet ministers discussed the probable strategic ramiﬁcations of a Far Eastern war. Austen Chamberlain, Ritchie’s successor at the Treasury since the near break-up of the government over tariff reform in October 1903, emerged as the conduit of the discussions. In early December he had given a gloomy assessment of Britain’s ﬁnances. A major war in East Asia would have a deleterious effect on Britain’s fragile ﬁnances. The ‘larger problems of foreign affairs’, Balfour noted, were ‘so little departmental’; and this, combined with Austen’s role as his father’s tenuous link with the Unionist mainstream, made the Chancellor ‘the most important of [Balfour’s] colleagues’.¹³² Selborne initiated the policy debate. He was ‘very anxious about the Far East’. Japan would have to go to war without delay, before Russia’s armed strength in the East was reinforced. The imminent prospect of conﬂict made it incumbent upon the Cabinet to decide upon a policy to meet that eventuality. Implicit in Selborne’s earlier advocacy of an alliance with Japan had been the assumption ‘that we could not allow to see Japan smashed by Russia’. This imperative had gained in strength with the conclusion of the alliance. However, the First Lord of the Admiralty warned that ‘our intervention might also entail that of France, and we and France might be driven into war, an appalling calamity!!’ Selborne made a vague suggestion of some Anglo-French diplomatic initiative with a view to ‘exerting such pressure that there shall be no war’. A diplomatic solution to the looming conﬂict would have to guarantee Japan’s ‘special and exclusive rights in Corea and . . . her treaty rights in Manchuria’. Anglo-French cooperation in pursuit of ‘so reasonable a proposal’, combined with a declaration by London that Japan’s destruction would not be tolerated, Selborne contended, would deter Russian aggression.¹³³ The Prime Minister acknowledged the need for the government to formulate a line of policy prior to any conﬂict in the Far East. All policy considerations, however, ¹³¹ Balfour to Edward VII, 11 Dec. 1903, CAB 41/28/26; Balfour to Hamilton (private), 11 Sept. 1903, Balfour MSS, 49978. On the belief of Russia’s culpability, see Neilson, Last Tsar, 238–44. ¹³² Balfour to Chamberlain, 1 Jan. 1904, Chamberlain MSS, AC 17/1/69; see memo. Chamberlain (secret), ‘Financial Position’, 7 Dec. 1903, CAB 37/67/84; R. A. Rempel, Unionists Divided: Arthur Balfour, Joseph Chamberlain and the Unionist Free Traders (Newton Abbott 1972), 57–61. ¹³³ Selborne to Lansdowne (private), 21 Dec. 1903, Balfour MSS, Add.MSS. 49728.

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depended on Japan’s preferred course of action, and on her chances of success in a contest with Russia—as he had predicted in December 1901 during the ﬁnal phase of the Lansdowne–Hayashi talks.¹³⁴ Austen Chamberlain was more optimistic than either Selborne or Balfour and advocated ruthlessly Bismarckian precepts. A Russo-Japanese war would be ‘the proper time for us to secure and to secure promptly, whatever we want in places where Russia is our rival’. Russia, preoccupied with the Japanese threat to her East Asian ambitions, would be vulnerable to British pressure. Conversely, if Russia crushed Japan, the pressure on her in Asia would be released; any desire for ‘a settlement of outstanding questions [with Britain] would evaporate’ and Britain would ‘ﬁnd her very troublesome and a little aggressive for all [Russian Ambassador] Benckendorff ’s smooth words’.¹³⁵ Lansdowne objected to the Chancellor’s recommendation to ‘take a leaf out of the notebook of German diplomacy’. A conversation with Admiral Lord Walter Kerr and Prince Louis of Battenberg had conﬁrmed him in his view that Japan’s naval advantage over Russia was merely temporary: ‘But a few months hence the balance of naval Power will incline the other way.’ Japan was ‘fairly safe for the present’. But, if Britain were to join Japan, ‘that will mean war with Russia all over the world, & we have no longer to consider merely the local conditions in the Far East’. Lansdowne assured Chamberlain that, if Russia and Japan descended into war, ‘we shall have to make the most of our opportunities’. Still, he poured cold water on the Chancellor’s neo-Bismarckianism. Benckendorff ’s current ‘conciliatory demeanour’, he warned, was largely a reﬂection of St Petersburg’s desire ‘to keep us quiet’. By implication, an AngloRussian settlement seemed an unrealistic proposition. Nevertheless, Lansdowne undertook ‘to press’ the idea.¹³⁶ The Whitehall axis between Foreign Ofﬁce and Admiralty, which had favoured the Anglo-Japanese combination in 1901, was still in place at this stage. Lansdowne’s proposal was more in line with Selborne’s ideas than those of the Chancellor. He envisaged a joint initiative with France and possibly the United States to extract from St Petersburg the outline of a Manchurian agreement that would be acceptable to Japan. Britain would then ‘tell the Japanese distinctly that they must be content with the bargain they can get as to Corea’.¹³⁷ Balfour was not persuaded of the merits of mediation, and now ¹³⁴ ¹³⁵ ¹³⁶ ¹³⁷

Balfour to Selborne (private), 21 Dec. 1903, Selborne MSS, Selborne 34. Chamberlain to Balfour (private), 21 Dec. 1903, Balfour MSS, Add.MSS. 49728. Lansdowne to Chamberlain, 22 Dec. 1903, Chamberlain MSS, AC 17/1/17. Lansdowne to Balfour, 22 Dec. 1903, Balfour MSS, Add.MSS. 49728.

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inclined towards Chamberlain’s position. Once Russia had augmented her naval forces in the Paciﬁc, she would enjoy a numerical superiority over Japan. With her sea lines of communication threatened, Japan would no longer be able to pursue a land campaign in Korea. In spite of her superior strength Russia could neither invade Japan, nor force her to her knees by means of a naval blockade. The ﬁrst entailed ‘an impossible military operation’; the latter was made impossible by Japan’s large degree of self-sufﬁciency, and by Britain’s naval presence in Far Eastern waters. A Russo-Japanese war, Balfour predicted, was likely to develop into a prolonged stalemate; and Japan should be left to ‘work out her own salvation in her own way’.¹³⁸ This was not an attempt to justify a policy of equivocation. Rather it was a closely reasoned, if cynical, exposition of Balfour’s principles of statecraft. The Prime Minister did not accept the 1902 alliance as unconditionally committing the British government to Japan. In a private letter to Selborne, he elaborated on this. Russia was likely to invade the Korean peninsula, but would ﬁnd maintaining a permanent garrison there a constant drain on her ﬁnances; and this would hamper her ability to act forcefully elsewhere. The occupation of Korea ‘would also produce such strained relations with Japan . . . that the moment Russia quarrels with any other Power on any subject, in any part of the world, that Power will ﬁnd a certain ally in Japan; especially if it possesses sufﬁcient naval strength to secure a safe landing to a Japanese expedition on the Corean coast’. The balance of tension in East Asia would thus blunt the Russian threat to Britain’s core imperial interests in Central Asia and India. Lansdowne’s mediation proposal, on the other hand, would destroy this balance of tension, and so reduce its effect as a deterrent against Russia. Mediation was tantamount to tacit ‘diplomatic assistance to Russia in her attempt to weaken Japan’s position in Corea’. As a consequence, any future cooperation with Japan would be rendered impossible. In these circumstances, Balfour was adamant that Britain ought not to interfere in the Russo-Japanese stand-off, unless asked to do so by Japan. Balfour insisted that under the terms of the alliance ‘[w]e are only required to “keep the ring” ’. For the present Britain should remain aloof, ‘especially as I believe that if any war could be conceived of as being advantageous to us, this is the one. Both “before, during and after” its outbreak it is likely to do wonders in making Russia amenable to sweet reason.’¹³⁹ ¹³⁸ Memo. Balfour, ‘Japan and Russia’, 22 Dec. 1903, CAB 17/54. Balfour had substantially completed the paper before receiving Lansdowne’s letter of 22 December; see draft memo. Balfour, 21 Dec. 1903, Balfour MSS, Add.MSS. 49728. ¹³⁹ Balfour to Selborne (private), 23 Dec. 1903, Selborne MSS, Selborne 34.

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The Prime Minister’s line of argument was echoed by Charles Hardinge, recently transferred to the Foreign Ofﬁce as AUS. A war would spell disaster for Russia, he prognosticated.¹⁴⁰ This view was not shared by Balfour’s ministerial colleagues. The Admiralty–Foreign Ofﬁce axis continued to function. The heads of both departments thought Balfour’s logic ﬂawed. Selborne argued that Japan could not tolerate the occupation and fortiﬁcation by Russia of the Korean port of Masampho ‘without risking ﬂeet action’. Once Russia’s Paciﬁc ﬂeet was augmented by units currently stationed in the Mediterranean or the Baltic, Russia would gain naval supremacy in Far Eastern waters, and so check the Japanese ﬂeet. The First Lord warned that ‘the disappearance of the Japanese battle ﬂeet would have very serious results for us. It would entail increased naval expenditure on our part.’¹⁴¹ Lansdowne advanced a variation on Selborne’s argument. He did not share Balfour’s and Chamberlain’s Bismarckian predilections. He did not doubt the ‘incidental advantages’ that might accrue from Russia’s entanglements. Yet, he feared that these would be outweighed by Japan’s inevitable defeat. He predicted that by the autumn of 1904 Russia ‘might be mistress of the situation, and might impose terms on Japan which would wipe the latter out as a military Power, and obliterate her ﬂeet’. He therefore reiterated the urgent need for mediation, with the aim of bringing about a Russo-Japanese settlement, guaranteed by all the Powers with rights in China. Lansdowne attached the greatest importance to avoiding war: War involves for us a three-fold risk: (i) the possibility that our ally may be crushed; (ii) the possibility that we ourselves become implicated, not on account of our treaty engagement to Japan, but because the British public will not sit still while the crushing is being done; (iii) the aggravation of our present ﬁnancial difﬁculties, already grave enough.¹⁴²

These were cogent reasons. Even the King now weighed-in, urging Balfour to offer Britain’s good ofﬁces to prevent war. Such a quarrel might embroil Britain. Coming a mere 18 months after the end of the Boer War, this ‘would be most disastrous, & I cannot disguise from you that I shrink in abject horror at the mere thought of it, as it would inevitably cripple our resources most seriously!’¹⁴³ Whether Lansdowne had tried to ‘mobilize’ Royal support is ¹⁴⁰ ¹⁴¹ ¹⁴² ¹⁴³

Hardinge to Bertie (private and conﬁdential), 24 Dec. 1903, Bertie MSS, Add.MSS. 63015. Selborne to Lansdowne, 24 Dec. 1903, CAB 37/67/94. Lansdowne to Balfour, 24 Dec. 1903, Balfour MSS, Add.MSS. 49728. Edward VII to Balfour (private), 25 Dec. 1903, ibid., Add.MSS. 49683; Lee, Edward VII ii, 282–3.

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speculative. Certainly, the Prime Minister’s lengthy reply to the King’s intervention also addressed points developed by Lansdowne, but not raised by the monarch. Balfour reiterated that Britain was under no treaty obligation materially to assist Japan, provided France did not join Russia. Neither public opinion nor ‘a cool consideration of our own interests’ would compel Britain to enter the war, ‘unless and until there seems a reasonable probability of Russia being about to crush Japan’. That contingency was unlikely to materialize for the reasons Balfour had already developed in his Cabinet memorandum of 22 December. Moreover, he also raised the prospect of serious domestic disruption in the Russian Empire, if Russia was to ﬁght a major war in the Far East. Japan should be given ‘every kind of diplomatic countenance and assistance’, but it was impolitic to force upon Tokyo ‘unpalatable advice’ of moderation: ‘We should lose Japan in trying to save her.’ Even a victorious Russia would be weakened by the war; and faced with ‘an implacable & unsleeping enemy . . . she would be much easier to deal with, both in Asia and in Europe, than she is at present’.¹⁴⁴ Balfour was immovable. He was supported by Chamberlain, who argued that for as long as Japan’s continued existence as a naval Power was not threatened, Britain should remain neutral.¹⁴⁵ A further exchange of letters between Balfour and Lansdowne did not alter the situation. The Prime Minister refused to commit Britain to Japan prior to any reversals on the battleﬁeld. Such defeats were not likely to be decisive and the ﬁnancial strains a war would impose upon Russia would make her ‘impotent everywhere else’. The 1902 alliance, he insisted to Selborne, did not provide for an automatic British commitment to Japan—this would have been ‘absurdly one-sided’. Japan, he noted, ‘would not help us to prevent Antwerp falling into the hands of the French, or Holland into the hands of Germany. Nor would she involve herself in any quarrel we might have over the North West frontier of India.’ With this Balfour touched upon the gravamina the Cabinet had raised at the end of 1901. It also went right to the heart of Britain’s wider imperial and European security problems. Crucially, neither Balfour nor any other member of the government regarded the alliance as strictly binding in all circumstances.¹⁴⁶ ¹⁴⁴ Draft Balfour to Edward VII, 26 or 27 Dec. 1903, Balfour MSS, Add.MSS. 49863; see Lansdowne to Gerald Balfour, 26 July [1905], Whittinghame Muniment MSS, GD 433/2/123; S. Heffer, Power and Place: The Political Consequences of King Edward VII (London, 1998), 171–2. ¹⁴⁵ Memo. A. Chamberlain, 25 Dec. 1903, CAB 37/67/96. ¹⁴⁶ Balfour to Selborne (private), 29 Dec. 1903, Selborne MSS 34; Campbell to Satow (private), 1 Jan. 1904, Satow MSS, PRO 30/33/7/3.

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On 29 December, Balfour brought the discussions to a conclusion, and laid down the principles of Britain’s policy in the event of a war in the Far East. Whilst admitting the formal obligations of the 1902 alliance, he stipulated that British policy be guided ‘solely in the light of British interests, present and future’. These interests dictated that Japan was not allowed to be ‘crushed’; but that eventuality was not likely to occur. The Russian occupation of Korea, and any subsequent fortiﬁcation of Korean ports would pose strategic problems for Japan, but did not entail her being checkmated in her home waters, as Selborne feared. Balfour considered the likely ramiﬁcations of the war for Russia ‘as a world Power’, and their subsequent impact on British interests. He argued that the annexation of Korea would weaken Russia. The permanent stationing of armed forces on the peninsula would add a further burden to Russia’s strained ﬁnances and it would lead to a permanent estrangement with Japan. In light of these considerations, Balfour concluded that the eventuality of a Japanese defeat was ‘very doubtful’, and that Britain should not intervene in the conﬂict. The possibility that an intervention might embroil Britain in a ‘world-wide war’ with the Franco-Russian combination apart, Balfour argued that a war over Korea did not affect primary British interests. Balfour’s analysis went to the core of Britain’s ‘Russian problem’. The Russian Empire was a factor in British strategic calculations ‘chieﬂy as (a) the ally of France; (b) the invader of India; (c) the dominating inﬂuence in Persia; and (d) the possible disturber of European peace’. On all four counts, even a Russian victory over Japan would reduce the Russian threat to key British strategic interests. Balfour concluded with a ﬂourish, reiterating his earlier observation to Selborne: Russia’s ‘diplomacy, from the Black Sea to the Oxus, might be weakened into distantly resembling sweet reasonableness’.¹⁴⁷ The main thrust of Balfour’s argument was reminiscent of Salisbury’s thinking. Like his uncle, Balfour had come to appreciate the potential weaknesses of rival Great Powers. Indeed, his memorandum of 29 December was a reassertion of Salisburian principles. It eschewed, as far as was possible in light of the terms of the Japanese alliance, entangling commitments before certain stipulated eventualities arose. British non-intervention in the Far Eastern conﬂict also extended to the ﬁeld of international ﬁnance. Balfour vetoed a Japanese request for ﬁnancial assistance as this would amount to an ‘act of war’ against Russia. Lansdowne, ¹⁴⁷ Memo. Balfour, ‘Situation in the Far East’, 29 Dec. 1903, CAB 37/67/97; Neilson, Last Tsar, 242–3.

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meanwhile, was asked to draw up the outline of a possible agreement with Russia.¹⁴⁸ The Prime Minister prevailed all along the line; and he moved quickly to implement his ideas. At his behest a meeting of the Committee of Imperial Defence was convened on 4 January 1904 to discuss British policy in the event of a Russo-Japanese conﬂict. Were Britain to intervene in the war, the military planners concluded that the theatre of operations would be extended. India would then be Britain’s main concern. Throughout January and early February, the CID and the armed services departments considered the various logistical and strategic problems which might arise, if hostilities broke out in the Far East.¹⁴⁹ While senior British diplomats anticipated the present ‘dangerous game of American poker—the stakes in this game being the peace of the Far East, & indirectly of the world’ would end in war, Japan’s lightning strike against the Russian ﬂeet at Port Arthur on 8 February still came as a surprise. Once hostilities had commenced, Balfour decided that it would be best to await further developments.¹⁵⁰ Although foreign diplomatists in London noted that senior ofﬁcials at the Foreign Ofﬁce ‘strongly sympathized with the Japanese’, British diplomacy maintained strict neutrality.¹⁵¹ With his earlier mediation proposals blocked by Balfour, and the two Asian antagonists involved in a war, Lansdowne concentrated on ensuring the localization of the conﬂict. He pursued this aim simultaneously in Europe and in China. Assurances were easily obtained from Delcassé, who was as anxious as Lansdowne himself, to remain aloof from the war.¹⁵² In fact, relations with France had improved markedly in the course of the past year. In the summer of 1903 Lansdowne and Paul Cambon had resumed their talks about a settlement of outstanding colonial disputes. The negotiations had made smooth progress. At the close of 1903, the imminent prospect of war between their two respective allies had lent greater urgency to bringing the talks to a conclusion. Following the outbreak of war, Lansdowne and Cambon resolved speedily to settle the few remaining points, although the ¹⁴⁸ Balfour to Lansdowne (private), 31 Dec. 1903 (two letters), Balfour MSS, Add.MSS. 49728; memo. Lansdowne ‘Proposed Agreement with Russia’, 1 Jan. 1904, CAB 37/68/1. ¹⁴⁹ CID, minutes of 29th, 30th, and 31st meetings, 4 and 27 Jan. and 8 Feb. 1904, CAB 2/1. For a detailed survey see K. Neilson, ‘ “A Dangerous Game of American Poker”: Britain and the RussoJapanese War’, JSS xii, 1 (1989), 63–87. ¹⁵⁰ Scott to Sanderson (private), 6 Jan. 1904, Lansdowne MSS, FO 800/115; Balfour to Lansdowne (private), 11 Feb. 1904, Balfour MSS, Add.MSS. 49728; Nish, Anglo-Japanese Alliance, 298–332. ¹⁵¹ Gericke van Herwijnen to Lynden de Melvil (no. 74), 9 Feb. 1904, BBBP (3) ii, no. 144. ¹⁵² Monson to Lansdowne (private), 23 Feb. 1904, Lansdowne MSS, FO 800/126; Delcassé to Cambon, 14 Jan. 1904, PCC ii, 107–9.

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Foreign Secretary in particular was determined to make the arrangement stand on its own merits.¹⁵³ The result was the Anglo-French entente of 8 April 1904, in reality a series of colonial agreements, with the Morocco–Egypt barter at their core. Ironically, an understanding with France had always been seen in its utility as ‘a stepping stone with Russia’, for only an Anglo-Russian understanding could produce ‘some reduction in our enormous military and naval expenditure’.¹⁵⁴ Now, Russia’s involvement in a war in Asia hastened the conclusion of the French entente. Thus, the 1902 alliance with Japan, far from keeping Britain aloof from Europe, had set in motion the process of Britain’s gradual involvement in continental affairs. France was only one factor in the European equation. Fortunately for Lansdowne, the German government was also determined to avoid being dragged into the war; and Lascelles was told by the Wilhelmstrasse that Germany would remain neutral.¹⁵⁵ British diplomats argued that a weakened Russia would be to Germany’s advantage in Europe. Satow, who noted the ‘exceedingly anti-Japanese’ attitude taken by his German colleague at Peking, observed that ‘the real German tradition is to wait until she sees to which side victory inclines, and then joins in falling upon the underdog’. From Vienna it was reported that the German Emperor had offered his Russian cousin support against the other Powers.¹⁵⁶ Although this rumour was without foundation, it demonstrated the extent to which Britain was implicated by the outbreak of war between her Asian ally and a continental European Power. At Peking Satow concentrated his efforts on keeping China neutral. In light of the chequered recent history of Russo-Chinese negotiations, this was entirely sensible. Chinese participation in the war would have torpedoed all efforts to localize the conﬂict. If China joined Russia against Japan, the casus foederis would be triggered; and if she jumped in the other direction, Russia was likely to call upon her ally France, in which case Britain would also be drawn ¹⁵³ Lansdowne to Monson (private), 28 Dec. 1902, Monson MSS, MS.Eng.hist.c.595; Lansdowne to Bertie (private), 30 Mar. 1904, Bertie MSS, Add.MSS. 63016; P. J. V. Rolo, Entente Cordiale: The Origins and Negotiations of the Anglo-French Agreement of 8 April 1904 (London, 1969), 228 and 243–4; E. W. Edwards, ‘The Japanese Alliance and the Anglo-French Agreement of 1904’, History xlii, 1 (1957), 19–27; J. Long, ‘Franco-Russian Relations during the Russo-Japanese War’, SEER lii, 127 (1974), 212–33. ¹⁵⁴ Cromer to Balfour (private), 15 Oct. 1903, Cromer MSS, FO 633/6; Hardinge to Bertie (private), 22 Apr. 1904, Bertie MSS, Add.MSS. 63016; Otte, ‘Elusive Balance’, 15–16. ¹⁵⁵ Lansdowne to Lascelles (no. 27), 11 Feb. 1904, FO 244/636; and vice versa (no. 46), 12 Feb. 1904, FO 64/1593; see J. Steinberg, ‘Germany and the Russo-Japanese War’, AHR lxxv, 4 (1970), 1970–1. ¹⁵⁶ Satow to Lansdowne, 25 Feb. 1904, Lansdowne MSS, FO 800/120; Lascelles to Barrington, 4 Mar. 1904, Lascelles MSS, FO 800/12; Neilson, Last Tsar, 247.

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into the war. At the very least, Sino-Japanese cooperation would give Russia the necessary pretext to reinforce her troops in Manchuria, possibly even to occupy Peking and Tientsin. Chinese neutrality, therefore, was as vital to the localization of the war as were French or German non-interference. It was also essential to the safeguarding of Britain’s regional interests. These considerations also explain Satow’s repeated efforts to allay Chinese fears over Japan’s ambitions on the Asian mainland.¹⁵⁷ At St Petersburg Charles Hardinge, now Ambassador there, worked on press contacts to prevent Russian and British newspapers from printing incendiary articles. Hardinge was particularly concerned that the outbreak of war in the Far East might lead to a strengthening of the pro-German clique at the Russian court, and so further aggravate the Anglo-Russian antagonism.¹⁵⁸ While Hardinge had some success in these efforts, though notably not with The Times, events repeatedly brought the two countries to the edge of the abyss. The unprovoked seizure of a British steamer in the Red Sea by the Russian warship Petersburg led the Cabinet to decide to adopt naval measures to prevent and meet any further Russian attacks on British shipping. From the summer of 1904 British warships shadowed the movements of Russian cruisers.¹⁵⁹ However, when on 21 October 1904, the Russian Baltic ﬂeet en route to the East Asian theatre of war sank Hull trawlers off the Dogger Bank in the North Sea, both countries seemed destined to slither over the brink into war. Public opinion in Britain was inﬂamed. Lansdowne demanded an ofﬁcial Russian apology, compensation payments for the relatives of the trawlermen, and ‘security against the recurrence of such intolerable acts’. Balfour was prepared to use the Royal Navy to intercept Admiral Rozhestvensky’s Baltic ﬂeet to ‘exact explanation and reparation’.¹⁶⁰ Having extracted little more than vague expressions of private regret at the incident from Lamsdorff, Lansdowne increased the pressure on Russia. The incident, he declared, was ‘a culpable blunder’.¹⁶¹ Reﬂecting Balfour’s plans, the Foreign Secretary used ‘language which could ¹⁵⁷ Satow to Lansdowne (private), 29 Dec. 1903, Lansdowne MSS, FO 800/120; Otte, ‘ “TableThumping” ’, 182–3. ¹⁵⁸ Hardinge diary, 29 May 1904, Hardinge MSS, vol. 5; Hardinge to Lansdowne (no. 330), 2 July 1904, FO 65/1680; see D. Lieven, ‘Pro-Germans and Russian Foreign Policy, 1890–1914’, IHR ii, 1 (1980), 24–39. ¹⁵⁹ Balfour to Edward VII, 21 July 1904, CAB 41/29/27; Selborne to Balfour, 28 Aug. 1904, Balfour MSS, Add.MSS. 49708; History of The Times iii, 390–1. ¹⁶⁰ Tel. Lansdowne to Hardinge (no. 174), 24 Oct. 1904, FO 65/1729; tel. Balfour to Selborne, 24 Oct. 1904, Selborne MSS, Selborne 39. For a detailed discussion see Neilson, ‘ “American Poker” ’, 73–87. ¹⁶¹ Lansdowne to Hardinge (no. 375), 25 Oct. 1904, BD iv, no. 12.

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not be regarded as otherwise than menacing’. Britain would use force, if necessary, to stop Rozhestvensky at Vigo, where the ofﬁcers responsible for the incident were to be left behind. His warning that British warships were being concentrated at Gibraltar made some impression on Russia. Nevertheless, the risks were high, as Lansdowne admitted a little later: ‘it looked to me as if the betting was about even as between peace and war’.¹⁶² Eventually, the Foreign Secretary and the Russian Ambassador, Count Aleksandr Konstantinovich von Benckendorff, arrived at a solution: Russia agreed to an enquiry, undertook to punish those found guilty, and guaranteed that there would be no recurrence of such incidents. Balfour then read out an agreed statement during a public address at Southampton on 28 October. However, Benckendorff had exceeded his instructions, and promised more than Lamsdorff was prepared to concede. The Ambassador’s blunder itself was suggestive of the intense pressure under which British and Russian diplomacy had to operate. When on 31 October, with four Russian ofﬁcers now detained at Vigo, Benckendorff asked for the Baltic ﬂeet to be allowed to proceed, Lansdowne sensed that St Petersburg wanted to renege on an embarrassing agreement.¹⁶³ For 48 hours war seemed imminent. Public clamour for ﬁrm action notwithstanding, there was little appetite for war among Cabinet ministers. The situation was further complicated by the growing competition of Germany and the United States. Yet relations between Britain and Russia had reached a point where conﬂict was not improbable. It was averted only by an ignominious Russian climb-down, though it still took another three weeks to draft the ﬁnal text of the agreement that brought the matter to a close.¹⁶⁴ It was now that German diplomacy struck. The Wilhelmstrasse had ruthlessly exploited Russia’s weakness in the summer of 1904. The friendly signals, sent by supplying the Baltic ﬂeet with coal, were counteracted by forcing on Russia a new, harsher commercial treaty in July. It was a classic Bismarckian move to demonstrate to St Petersburg the beneﬁts that would accrue from improved relations with Germany, as well as the latter’s ability to cause problems for Russia if relations did not improve. In November the Kaiser proposed to the Tsar a continental alliance against Britain and Japan, but ran aground on Russia’s ¹⁶² Lansdowne to Hardinge (private), 29 Oct. 1904, Hardinge MSS, vol. 7; Lansdowne to Hardinge (no. 377), 26 Oct. 1904, BD iv, no. 13. ¹⁶³ Benckendorff to Lansdowne, 28 Oct. 1904, Lansdowne MSS, FO 800/141; Lansdowne to Balfour, n.d. [but 28 Oct. 1904], Balfour MSS, Add.MSS. 49729. ¹⁶⁴ Gericke van Herwijnen to Lynden de Melvil (no. 584), 29 Oct. 1904, BBBP (3) ii, no. 254; D. Walder, The Short Victorious War: The Russo-Japanese War, 1904–1905 (London, 1973), 190–202.

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reluctance to move without France.¹⁶⁵ Rumours of improved Russo-German relations also reached London, where it was widely accepted ‘that Germany is anxious to see us at loggerheads with Russia’.¹⁶⁶ A further twist came in July 1905, when Wilhelm II foisted upon his Imperial cousin the ultimately abortive alliance treaty of Bjørkø. Coming a little over a week before the opening of the peace negotiations at Portsmouth, New Hampshire, news of the treaty triggered speculations in London that German assurances to Russia might prolong the war after all.¹⁶⁷ The Kaiser’s Baltic surprise ensured that much of British focus was now ﬁrmly on Germany. Lansdowne was ﬁlled with disquiet: ‘What may not a man in such a frame of mind do next.’¹⁶⁸ Despite the complication caused by the war, Britain’s global strategic position improved signiﬁcantly in 1904–5. This was due to shrewd diplomacy and to that rarest of political commodities, good luck. Lansdowne’s efforts to keep the war localized and the conclusion of the French entente mended diplomatic fences with France, but also made it more difﬁcult for Germany to play a more forceful role while the war continued. Moreover, until Tsushima there had been the risk ‘of important fragments of China being dominated by a more warlike and aggressive Power’.¹⁶⁹ Japan’s victories over Russia at sea and in Manchuria had profound implications for Britain and the other Powers. Within the Far Eastern subsystem of international politics, Satow noted somewhat uneasily, ‘[t]he rise of Japan has so completely upset our equilibrium as a new planet the size of Mars would derange the solar system’; while Maurice Paléologue, sous-directeur for political affairs at the Quai d’Orsay, likened Tsushima to the defeat of Philip II’s ‘Invincible Armada’, and ‘a marqué la ﬁn de la domination russe en Asie’.¹⁷⁰ The annihilation of the Russian ﬂeet at Tsushima on 27–8 May 1905 dealt the fatal blow to Russia’s war efforts. The ‘catastrophe in the Korean Straits’ also ¹⁶⁵ Report Shebeko, 15 Nov. 1904, in A. A. Serge’ev, ‘Vilgelma II o russko-iaponskaya voyna 1905 goda’, KA ix (1932), 56–65; J. A. White, Transition to Global Rivalry: Alliance Diplomacy and the Quadruple Entente, 1895–1907 (Cambridge, 1995), 106. ¹⁶⁶ Mallet to Sandars, 1 Nov. 1904, Balfour MSS, Add.MSS. 49747; also Spring-Rice to Ferguson, 10 Nov. 1904, The Letters and Friendships of Sir Cecil Spring-Rice, ed. S. Gwynn (2 vols., London, 1929) i, 432–3. ¹⁶⁷ For the text, anon., ‘Russko-germanskii dogorov 1905 goda, saklotsennie v Byerka’, KA v (1924), 24–6; see R. R. Maclean, ‘Dream of a German Europe: Wilhelm II and the Treaty of Björkö of 1905’, The Kaiser: New Research on Wilhelm II’s Role in Imperial Germany, ed. A. Mombauer and W. Deist (Cambridge, 2003), 119–42. ¹⁶⁸ Lansdowne to Tower (private), 20 Aug. 1905, Lansdowne MSS, FO 800/130. ¹⁶⁹ Balfour to Spring-Rice (private), 17 Jan. 1905, Balfour MSS, Add.MSS. 49729. ¹⁷⁰ Quotes from Satow to Dickins, 27 Jan. 1905, Satow MSS, PRO 30/33/11/6; and Paléologue diary, 29 May 1905, id., Un grand tournant de la politique mondiale, 1904–1906 (Paris, 1934), 336.

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eliminated Russia as a naval factor for the foreseeable future.¹⁷¹ And this consideration played a signiﬁcant role in British policy planning. Already before Tsushima, the question of a renewal of the 1902 alliance came to occupy the governments in London and Tokyo. The Japanese took the initiative in this matter in December 1904, even though the alliance was not due to expire for another two years.¹⁷² Policy-makers in London understood that the renewal had to be accomplished before any peace treaty was concluded between Russia and Japan. Weakened by her military exertions and racked by domestic unrest, Russia was in no position to adopt strong counter-measures. It was also imperative to prevent the peace negotiations from interfering with the AngloJapanese talks, as Earl Percy, Lansdowne’s Parliamentary Under-Secretary pointed out in early 1905: ‘the nature of the terms upon which Japan would make peace would depend necessarily on whether she can or cannot count on the continuance of the English alliance’.¹⁷³ Without a renewal of the 1902 compact, Britain ran the risk of losing inﬂuence in the Far East to a more assertive Japan. Whilst this was an incentive to pursue the talks with her, it could not remove lingering doubts as to the wider strategic utility of the Anglo-Japanese alliance. A mere renewal of the existing treaty had few attractions for policy-planners in Whitehall. Sir George Sydenham Clarke, the Secretary of the Committee of Imperial Defence, argued that, following her shattering defeats, Russia lacked the capability to mount major military operations. Russia’s double blow had not, however, altogether removed her threat to British imperial interests; it had merely set back Russia for about a decade: ‘For ten years at least the Russians will not be in a position to undertake another campaign closely resembling Manchuria in size. The reconstitution of Russia will require a long period . . . [T]he Crimean War had the effect of deterring Russia from any great enterprise for more than 20 years.’¹⁷⁴ Russia’s current weakness opened a strategic window of opportunity; and Clarke and the CID insisted that the Japanese alliance should be extended in its geographical scope to include India. They also insisted that a further substantive revision was required. The alliance should come into operation in ¹⁷¹ Hardinge to Lansdowne, 7 June 1905, Hardinge MSS, vol. 6. ¹⁷² MacDonald to Hardinge, 23 Dec. 1904, ibid. 7; Nish, Anglo-Japanese Alliance, 299–300. ¹⁷³ Percy to Balfour (private), 18 Jan. 1905, Balfour MSS, Add.MSS. 49747. Neilson, Last Tsar, 261, makes a similar point; see D. Steeds, ‘The Second Anglo-Japanese Alliance and the RussoJapanese War’, STICERD Discussion Paper, no. 432 (2002), 20–2. ¹⁷⁴ Memo. Clarke, ‘The Afghanistan Problem’, 20 Mar. 1905, CAB 38/8/26. On this point see the pertinet observations by P. Towle, ‘The Russo-Japanese War and the Defence of India’, MA xliv, 3 (1980), 114–15.

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the event of an attack upon one of the two parties by a third Power.¹⁷⁵ Clarke himself advanced the idea that a Japanese troop commitment to the defence of India should be made a precondition of renewal. He also suggested that a statement be inserted in the preamble to the effect that both contracting parties were committed to maintaining the status quo in the East. This ‘might tend to reassure France, who is nervous as to her Indo-China frontier’.¹⁷⁶ Clarke’s arguments indicated the extent to which the Japanese alliance had come to affect Britain’s relations with other Powers. In light of the genesis of the original alliance, there were inevitably also naval considerations to be taken into account. Three weeks before Tsushima, the Director of Naval Intelligence (DNI), Rear-Admiral Charles Ottley, argued for tightening the compact with Japan. This would yield naval advantages for Britain. Russia could not sustain a major naval building programme against an Anglo-Japanese combination: ‘such modiﬁcation of the alliance might conceivably lead to an indeﬁnite abandonment of her aspirations to sea power’. Britain, Ottley concluded, would then be ‘freed from the perpetual menace which the Russia ﬂeet has constituted’.¹⁷⁷ The geographical and substantive extension of the alliance, committed Japan to the defence of the Indian frontier, and held out the prospect of an Anglo-Japanese naval bloc. Thus, both Russian forward policy in Central Asia and naval expansion in the Paciﬁc would be blocked. The Japanese accepted these terms and, in return, obtained Britain’s recognition of Japan’s new position in Korea. The revised and extended alliance was signed on 12 August 1905, just after the commencement of the American-sponsored Portsmouth peace talks. Lansdowne stressed the defensive nature of the new compact. By extending the scope of the alliance, Britain had merely ‘raise[d] the wall of [her] back garden to prevent an over-adventurous neighbour or that neighbour’s unruly or overzealous agents from attempting to climb it’.¹⁷⁸ Since Russia’s grudging withdrawal of the Twelve Demands in April 1901 British policy had gradually come to focus on the Japanese option as the only ¹⁷⁵ Memo. Clarke, 10 Apr. 1905, CAB 17/54; CID, minutes of 70th meeting, 12 Apr. 1905, CAB 2/1; see J. Gooch, The Plans of War: The General Staff and British Military Strategy (London, 1974), 218–20; also K. M. Wilson, ‘The Anglo-Japanese Alliance of August 1905 and the Defending of India: A Case of the Worst Case Scenario’, JICH xxi, 4 (1993), 324–56. ¹⁷⁶ Clarke to Balfour, 11 June 1905, Whittinghame Muniment MSS, GD 433/2/39; see min. Clarke, 4 May 1905, Sydenham MSS, Add.MSS. 50836. ¹⁷⁷ Memo. Ottley, ‘Renewal of Anglo-Japanese Alliance’, 9 May 1905, CAB 17/67; Neilson, ‘Anglo-Japanese Alliance’ (TS), 20. ¹⁷⁸ Lansdowne to Hardinge, 4 Sept. 1905, Hardinge MSS 7; R. A. Esthus, Double Eagle and Rising Sun: The Russians and Japanese at Portsmouth in 1905 (Durham, NC, 1986), 144–5; P. Lowe, Great Britain and Japan, 1911–15: A Study of British Far Eastern Policy (London, 1969), 18–19.

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remaining diplomatic solution to Britain’s strategic problems in the Far East. The exclusive alliance with Japan, however, was not inevitable. Signiﬁcantly, in the context of British ‘isolation’, policy-makers in London did not regard it as a departure from previous policy. For Lansdowne its purely regional remit was its chief attraction; for Balfour this very limitation was a major ﬂaw. Yet, neither regarded the alliance as a strictly binding and explicit commitment to Japan. That the various arrangements under discussion in 1901 were largely framed with reference to the 1887 Mediterranean accords lends further support to the argument that, in conceptual terms, British policy was still moving along in a Salisburian groove, and that, contrary to traditional interpretations, there had been no breach with the policy of isolation. In light of the altered geostrategic circumstances of 1905, even the revised Japanese alliance was principally a regional arrangement, albeit now less limited than the original compact.

Conclusion It has sometimes occurred to me that to a foreigner reading our press the British Empire must appear in the light of some huge giant sprawling all over the globe, with gouty ﬁngers and toes stretching in every direction, which cannot be approached without eliciting a scream. Lord Sanderson¹

When, in November 1901, Francis Bertie concluded that an alliance with Germany entailed a ‘sacriﬁce of our liberty to pursue a British worldpolicy’, this was more than an ironic comment on Berlin’s Weltpolitik pretensions.² It also offered a crucial insight into the nature of Britain’s foreign policy. Unlike those of the other Powers, British policy operated on a global, and not merely a European scale: British policy was worldpolicy. As outlined in the introduction, the global and imperial nature of British policy in the long nineteenth century has not been adequately reﬂected in much of the historiography of the period.³ The preoccupation with 1914 and with Anglo-German relations has also conditioned historical interpretations of British ‘isolation’ that it was particularly associated with the person of Lord Salisbury; that it was a transitional phase; and that it deﬂected from a necessary continental commitment. All of this was based on the assumption that, whenever a foreign tyrant threatened to dominate Europe, it was sensible and necessary for Britain to ﬁnd allies to bring him down. No doubt, the decisions of 1914 were strategically correct, and even more so those of 1939.⁴ But the ¹ Memo. Sanderson, ‘Observations on printed Mem[orandu]m on Relations with France and Germany’, Jan. 1907, BD iii, app. B, encl. 1, 430. ² Memo. Bertie, 9 Nov. 1901, ibid. ii, no. 91. ³ Signiﬁcant exceptions are K. Neilson, Britain and the Last Tsar: British Policy and Russia, 1894–1917 (Oxford, 1995) and J. Siegel, Endgame: Britain, Russia and the Final Struggle for Central Asia (London, 2002), who offer an important corrective to the ‘Anglo-German’ approach, exempliﬁed by Paul Kennedy’s magisterial studies, and, on the other hand, notions of some kind of ‘appeasement’ of Russia as the chief determinant of British policy in the writings of Keith Wilson. ⁴ Representative for this interpretation, M. E. Howard, The Continental Commitment: The Dilemma of British Defence Policy in the Era of Two World Wars (London, 1972); C. Barnett, Britain and Her Army, 1509–1970: A Military, Political and Social Survey (Harmondsworth, 1974 (pb)), esp.

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assumption by historians of a continental commitment as a constant theme in British policy has distorted their perspectives on the long nineteenth century. This study offers a fresh contribution to the scholarly debate by placing the problems of British strategic policy in the wider context of the China Question, the most pressing contemporary international problem of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. In its global approach, it has most in common with the studies by Ian Nish and Keith Neilson.⁵ However, unlike Professor Nish’s magisterial study of Anglo-Japanese relations, this study does not examine the subject from an exclusively extra-European angle. Rather, the emphasis has been on the connections between European and overseas developments. While Keith Neilson has studied this linkage in the context of Anglo-Russian relations, he has done so to the exclusion of Britain’s relations with other key Powers in this period, especially Germany and Japan. This book has also tried to break new ground by utilizing a wider range of departmental and private papers, both British and foreign, in order to reconstruct the evolution of a British diplomatic strategy, and by positing new questions about the ‘unspoken assumptions’ that informed the calculations of the policy-makers. The conclusions here suggest the need to reformulate the historical debate about the nature of Britain’s so-called ‘isolation’. Detailed scrutiny of the course of British policy in the period between 1894 and 1905 in East Asia within its wider setting suggests that conventional assumptions are a misreading of Britain’s diplomatic strategy. Above all they establish an artiﬁcial a posteriori dichotomy between Europe and extra-European affairs. Such geographical compartmentalization makes the history of foreign policy easier to deal with, but it does so at the price of oversimpliﬁcation. The so-called China Question demonstrated the interaction between European developments and the extra-European geo-strategic periphery. The signiﬁcance attached to it by contemporary observers brought into sharper focus Britain’s relations with the other European Powers as well as the rivalries outside Europe. The China Question connected the two. Post-1895 international politics revolved around two poles: one in Europe and one in East Asia. 353–70; P. M. Kennedy, The Realities behind Diplomacy: Background Inﬂuences on British External Policy, 1865–1980 (London, 1981), 118–39. I have set out my own views in ‘Neo-Revisionism or the Emperor’s New Clothes: Some Reﬂections on Niall Ferguson on the Origins of the First World War’, D&S xi,1 (2000), 271–90, and ‘The Elusive Balance: British Foreign Policy and the French Entente before the First World War’, Anglo-French Relations in the Twentieth Century: Rivalry and Cooperation, ed. A. Sharp and G. Stone (London, 2000), 11–35. ⁵ Here especially, I. H. Nish, The Anglo-Japanese Alliance: A Study of Two Island Empires (Westport, Conn., repr. 1976), and Neilson, Last Tsar.

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The two were not separate, but were fused into one system; and events around one pole affected those around the other. Thus, all issues of British ‘isolation’ and international instability have to be considered in global and not just European terms. In the decade between the beginning of the Sino-Japanese War and the end of the Russo-Japanese conﬂict, affairs in the Far East created instability in the Great Power system. The signiﬁcance of the China Question derived both from changes in the Europe equilibrium and from the growing globalization of international politics. Towards the end of the nineteenth century Germany’s uniﬁcation,⁶ the formation of the Franco-Russian alliance, Japan’s rise to Great Power status, and the outcome of the 1894–5 war outside Europe had shifted the equilibrium in Europe and East Asia. Combined, they created the conditions in which the ‘China Question’ had the potential to affect the relations between the Great Powers to an extent that the ‘scramble for Africa’ or the Anglo-Russian Great Game did not. This meant that the balance of power that had underpinned the nature of European international politics since the post-Crimean modiﬁcations was threatened by extra-European affairs as much as by intra-European matters. When Rosebery spoke of ‘an inﬁnitely larger Eastern question’, he reﬂected the very real sense of the danger of a conﬂict between the European Powers ﬁghting over the spoils of the Chinese Empire. Hicks Beach’s Swansea speech three years later may have been a Beaconsﬁeldian sop to a critical press and public, but it also illustrated the two principal aspects of the China Question: the threats to commercial interests and the risk of international complications. Contrary to arguments advanced by, inter alia, E. W. Edwards, British policy was not a function of commercial interests, nor was the defence of trading rights and commercial access its principal concern.⁷ Policy-makers considered loan agreements and commercial concessions in terms of their utility as tools for manipulating and containing the ambitions of other Powers. British policy in response to the emergence of the China Question can be divided into two distinct phases: 1894 to 1900 and 1900 to 1905. The 1894–5 Sino-Japanese War heightened an awareness of the apparent fundamental weakness of China, an awareness which turned China’s economic and political future into a global issue. The subsequent scramble for concessions intensiﬁed ⁶ I am following here Paul W. Schroeder’s insightful comments, see ‘Did the Vienna Settlement Rest on a Balance of Power’, AHR xcvii, 4 (1992), 683–706. ⁷ E. W. Edwards, British Diplomacy and Finance in China, 1895–1914 (Oxford, 1987); also D. C. M. Platt, Finance, Trade and Politics in British Foreign Policy, 1815–1914 (Oxford, 1968).

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the existing international rivalries. The Boxer Rising marked the culmination of this ﬁrst phase as well as the beginning of the second, for the events of the summer of 1900 highlighted the problems the foreign Powers would have had to face if China had collapsed. But the rising also defused some of the existing international rivalries—with one signiﬁcant exception: Britain’s relations with her main strategic rival Russia deteriorated as a result of Russian attempts to exploit the post-Boxer chaos. The Manchurian crisis in early 1901, a Far Eastern ‘war-in-sight’ crisis, underscored the potential dangers of conﬂict for the British; and when Russia and Japan went to war in 1904, the danger of escalation remained central to political calculations in Whitehall and Westminster. Thus, until 1905, the China Question had brought into sharper focus Britain’s relations with Russia, Japan, and Germany, and to a lesser extent France. In so far as Anglo-Russian relations were concerned, China’s weakness intensiﬁed the competitive strategic relationship between these two Asiatic empires. Britain and Russia were the only two global Powers in this period, in terms of their territorial possessions, their interests, and their military capabilities. In Europe, both countries were in the wings of the continental stage. Their entry was often decisive.⁸ Both could also easily exit it, Russia to hide behind the vast expanse of her western marchlands and Britain by withdrawing behind the Channel. Outside Europe, they were locked in an intense rivalry in Turkey-in-Asia, Persia, the Central Asian security glacis around India, and China. However, by the mid-1890s, the Ottoman Empire was no longer central to British strategic thinking. While the Great Game in Central Asia captured the imagination of contemporaries and later writers alike, it was played to tactical advantage rather than for strategic gain; and the same was the case in Persia.⁹ China was different. Here was the principal focus of Anglo-Russian friction between 1894 and 1905. Rosebery’s and Kimberley’s decision to move in conjunction with Russia at the time of the Sino-Japanese War was taken for pragmatic reasons. But their policy also turned out to be impracticable. Cooperation with Russia in 1894–5 might have smoothed over some of the problems of the spring of 1895. But ⁸ Again are pertinent the points raised by Schroeder, ‘Vienna Settlement’, 683–706; K. Neilson, ‘ “Greatly Exaggerated”: The Myth of the Decline of Great Britain before 1914’, IHR xii, 4 (1991), 695–725. ⁹ See K. M. Wilson, Empire and Continent: Studies in British Foreign Policy from the 1880s to the First World War (London, 1987), 1–30; G. Miller, Straits: British Policy towards the Ottoman Empire and the Origins of the Dardanelles Campaign (Hull, 1997), 7–11; D. McLean, Britain and Her Bufferstate: The Collapse of the Persian Empire, 1890–1914 (London, 1979), 3–4.

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acting in concert with Russia was no guarantee against the further rise of the Anglo-Russian antagonism in Asia. At the same time, it entailed taking a position in opposition to Japan, since it was Russia’s aim to contain the rise of Japan as a potential strategic threat to her own ambitions along the Paciﬁc rim. Making such a choice was precisely what Rosebery and Kimberley wished to avoid, their pro-Russian rhetoric in late-1894 notwithstanding. They were not prepared to exploit the differences between the other Powers in order to solve their own problems. This was an apparent tactical weakness in their diplomacy, but it was one grounded in their general approach to Britain’s external problems, and it ampliﬁed these problems. The real limitation of Rosebery’s foreign policy, then, was conceptual as much as the changes in ‘Britain’s position in the real world of international politics’, which Gordon Martel has rightly stressed.¹⁰ While the events immediately surrounding the 1894–5 conﬂict demonstrated that Russia could ﬁnd partners in her extra-European rivalries with Britain, the scramble for concessions between 1895 and 1898 also showed that such cooperation against Britain was likely to be temporary. Russian and German interests were in opposition to each other, and so reduced the risk of Russo-German cooperation against Britain. In his dealings with France in 1895–6, moreover, Salisbury had weakened the internal cohesion of the Franco-Russian combination in Asia. Here Salisbury showed his superior diplomatic skills in manipulating relations between the other Powers. Under the altered circumstances of 1898, seeking an arrangement with Russia made sense. Signiﬁcantly, in light of the new evidence presented here, assumptions about Salisbury’s ‘isolationist’ policy can no longer be maintained. Salisbury fully appreciated that the projected arrangement with Russia in Asia ‘would alter the grouping of the Powers in Europe’.¹¹ This global approach by Salisbury also supports the argument about the false dichotomy in later historiography which treats Europe and extra-European matters separately. That Salisbury had more far-reaching objectives in early 1898 also suggests reasons for further reﬁning notions of a distinct Conservative or ‘Country Party’ foreign policy tradition, of which John Charmley has written recently.¹² If Salisbury’s approach to foreign policy was shaped by that tradition, in ¹⁰ G. Martel, Imperial Diplomacy: Rosebery and the Failure of Foreign Policy (Kingston, Ont., and London, 1986), 257–8. ¹¹ Salisbury to Balfour, 6 Jan. 1898, Whittinghame MSS, GD 433/2/39. ¹² J. Charmley, Splendid Isolation?: Britain, the Balance of Power and the Origins of the First World War, 1874–1914 (London, 1999), 398–9.

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practice this did not translate into strict aloofness from Great Power relations. Such an assessment would credit Joseph Chamberlain’s contemporary critique of Salisbury’s policy with an insight it simply did not have. The abortive talks of 1898 demonstrated that no agreement was possible for as long as Russia was strong. This consideration explains why the Cabinet discussed a military solution to Britain’s Russian problem in China as a possible, to some indeed a preferable, option. In retrospect, the 1899 Scott–Muravev agreement turned out to be little more than a holding operation. The option of an agreement with Russia was nevertheless always kept in view, as Lansdowne’s ruminations in 1901 at the height of the Manchurian crisis showed. Ultimately, it was Russia’s weakness after 1905, and St Petersburg’s evident desire for a receuillement that provided an opening to negotiate the 1907 convention.¹³ Japan’s rise posed problems for Britain, but also offered an opportunity. It made cooperation with Russia difﬁcult; at the same time it identiﬁed a possible future partner in efforts to contain Russian expansion in Asia. Rosebery’s and Kimberley’s decision in March–April 1895 not to join the triplice intervention after Shimonoseki preﬁgured choosing cooperation with Japan as a strategic option. But the importance of this decision should not be exaggerated. Not only were no further steps taken; there also was no particular warmth towards Japan on the part of the London government. Salisbury was slow to appreciate the growing importance of Japan. To an extent, this was rooted in the ‘unspoken assumptions’ that informed his politics. His disdain for the Asian ‘mushroom civilizations’, and his assumption that Japan would wait to be bribed by either Russia or Britain, meant that he signally misunderstood this new Power, certainly until about 1900–1. At that time, given the deterioration in relations with Russia, he came to favour an alignment with Japan, albeit within clearly deﬁned geographical limits. The parallel, altogether ignored in the literature, with the 1887 Mediterranean agreements is striking. In 1901–2, Salisbury did not reject the Anglo-Japanese alliance treaty, but was anxious to limit the extent of Britain’s obligations to Tokyo. All of this underscores the subtlety and ﬂexibility of Salisbury’s policy, balancing any alignment against limited commitments so as to retain as much freedom of manoeuvre as was possible. Crucially, Salisbury and his successor moved along the same lines. Lansdowne’s policy towards Japan developed organically from Salisbury’s ﬁrst ¹³ For the background B. J. Williams, ‘The Strategic Background to the Anglo-Russian Entente of 1907’, HJ ix, 3 (1966), 360–73; idem, ‘Great Britain and Russia, 1905 to the 1907 Convention’, British Foreign Policy under Sir Edward Grey, ed. F. H. Hinsley (Cambridge, 1977), 133–47.

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and tentative idea of an understanding with Tokyo. There was no fundamental shift in pace or direction under Lansdowne. This is not to argue that this continuity rested on a speciﬁc Conservative approach to foreign policy, for there were differences between the Tory Salisbury and the Whiggish Lansdowne. At the root of the continuity in their policies were naval considerations. The careful scrutiny of the gradual crystallization of the Japanese option, from Salisbury’s ﬁrst mooting of a naval defence pact in January 1901 and Bertie’s ‘entente’ scheme, interweaving diplomatic, ﬁnancial, and naval factors, to the later discussions about the renewal of the alliance, provides further evidence for the centrality of naval factors in the Anglo-Japanese alliance. The alliance seemed to offer a cheap and effective means of containing Russia. But its beneﬁts were more doubtful. The combination with Japan did not contain Russian expansion as much as it emboldened Japan to seek a confrontation with Russia. To an extent this showed the limitations of British power in the region. This was manifest during the Cabinet discussions in 1903–4 that underlined the continuity with Salisbury’s and Lansdowne’s thinking in 1901. Ministers regarded the Japanese alliance as non-binding and more in line with a limited regional arrangement than a full alliance. The internal debates prior to the renewal of the alliance, and Lansdowne’s emphasis on its defensive aspects provided further evidence for this. In the standard interpretations of late nineteenth-century British policy, the renewal of the Japanese alliance in 1905 has been seen as ‘Britain’s answer to the projected continental coalition [of Bjørkø]’.¹⁴ As Lansdowne’s ‘garden wall’ reﬂections and the CID advice during the alliance talks illustrated, in the minds of British policy-makers there was no such connection between East Asia and Europe at this juncture. For them, the revised treaty with Japan was a strictly regional arrangement to contain the now weakened threat from Russia. It was not seen as a break with previous policy, but its continuation. The AngloJapanese alliance of 1905 was not, as Keith Wilson has argued, ‘a conjuring trick’.¹⁵ That is to confuse what Balfour and Lansdowne had in mind with a proper alliance in the widest, technical sense. It also highlights, once again, the pitfalls of the 1914 teleology. ¹⁴ G. W. Monger, The End of Isolation: British Foreign Policy, 1900–1907 (London, 1963), 214; also P. M. Kennedy, The Realities Behind Diplomacy: Background Inﬂuences on British External Policy, 1865–1980 (London, 1981), 124–5. ¹⁵ ‘The Anglo-Japanese Alliance of August 1905 and the Defence of India: A Worst Case Scenario’, JICH xxi, 4 (1993), 354, though he is right to stress that neither Balfour nor Lansdowne grasped the longer term consequences of the alliance, ibid., 338–48.

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The central position of the Anglo-German antagonism in much of the historiography on late nineteenth-century international relations has distorted analyses of British policy in the 1890s, with the antecedents of the confrontation often traced back further than the evidence supports. In China, as elsewhere, Germany was a diplomatic irritant rather than a serious threat to British interests. The Franco-Russian alliance in Europe had begun to contain Germany in continental Europe. The growing restlessness which now characterized German policy certainly had an effect on Britain. Germany’s cooperation in the triplice combination of 1895 contributed to Britain’s awkward position between Russia and Japan. But this effect should not be exaggerated. The political row over the indemnity loans, combined with the ham-ﬁstedness of German diplomacy swiftly revealed the triplice to be hollow. In this context, Salisbury’s support for Anglo-German ﬁnancial cooperation is a further instance of his willingness to exacerbate the differences between the other Powers in order to keep them divided. The de facto understanding with Germany about commercial spheres of inﬂuence complemented Salisbury’s and Balfour’s efforts to achieve a similar understanding with Russia in 1898–9; and it again highlights the policy of selective engagement as a hallmark of Salisburian diplomacy. Indeed, when Salisbury observed to Chamberlain in May 1898 that ‘a closer relation with Germany would be very desirable, but can we get it?’,¹⁶ it was not merely an attempt to contain Chamberlain’s implicit threat to disrupt the Unionist coalition. It also revealed Salisbury’s narrower conception of formalized cooperation, in contrast to Chamberlain’s acceptance of the fuller, continental deﬁnition of an alliance. Above all, the Anglo-German alliance talks around 1900 make sense only when considered within the wider global context provided by the China Question. The latent crisis in the Far East gave meaning to the talks. The talks, farcical though they were, cannot simply be dismissed as amateur dramatics or as a misreading of the objective, national interests of the two countries.¹⁷ The tensions with Russia during the scramble for concessions in China and earlier instances of Anglo-German ﬁnancial cooperation explain why a formal alliance with Germany was an attractive proposition to an inﬂuential section in the Cabinet. The 1898 and 1901 talks illustrated the connection between European and extra-European affairs, with an added complication: while ¹⁶ Salisbury to Chamberlain (private), 2 May 1898, Chamberlain MSS, JC 5/67/91. ¹⁷ For such interpretations Z. S. Steiner and K. Neilson, Britain and the Origins of the First World War (Basingstoke and New York, rev. edn. 2003), 26–7; P. M. Kennedy, ‘German World Policy and Alliance Negotiations with England, 1897–1900’, JMH xlv, 4 (1973), 605–25.

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Chamberlain and his coterie sought German cooperation to contain Russia’s challenge in East Asia, the Germans, sensibly, viewed an English alliance primarily in terms of its effect on continental affairs. Bülow’s narrower interpretation of the October 1900 agreement underlined this point, as did Waldersee’s vacillations in north China. The ﬁeld marshal’s presence, originally supported by Salisbury’s critics as a step towards a rapprochement with Germany, left British diplomacy hamstrung during the most acute phase of the China Question. The Waldersee episode was no mere detail, for it reinforced Lansdowne’s caution during the 1901 alliance talks, lest Britain be forced to pursue a policy dictated by alliance considerations rather than by considerations of narrower British interests. By this stage, it was accepted by ministers in London that adhesion to the German-led Triple Alliance ‘w[oul]d prevent or impede the development of good relations with Russia, and if possible with France’.¹⁸ Indeed, Lansdowne himself had come to look on the idea of cooperating with Germany with growing scepticism. A decision about the future course of Anglo-German relations had somehow been taken, of which no one was properly aware. When reﬂecting on the failed project of a rapprochement with Germany in later years, Lansdowne commented: ‘It was something to do with Manchuria. I found I couldn’t trust them.’¹⁹ The false start in Anglo-German relations in 1900–1 has skewed the historiographical debate of this period. Far more indicative of British policy were Salisbury’s and Lansdowne’s dealings with Russia and Japan. The true signiﬁcance of the clandestine German alliance talks around 1900 was that it showed the extent to which a section of Britain’s political elite had lost conﬁdence in its ability to deal with the foreign and imperial problems that crowded on to Britain’s political agenda, and was prepared to challenge Salisbury’s concept of isolation. This crisis of conﬁdence was less acute in 1898 than in 1900, when it reﬂected the double Boer–Boxer crisis of British power. The crisis of conﬁdence also revealed the different generational responses to these challenges. It is striking that the older, mid-Victorian generation of politicians, whose formative experience had been the Crimean War, was less concerned about as these events than were the younger generation of rising politicians. The evolution of a Foreign Ofﬁce–Treasury–Admiralty axis in foreign policy-making in 1901–2, and the creation of a foreign policy directorate of various Cabinet ministers were strong indications that a primarily diplomatic ¹⁸ Min. Austen Chamberlain, Dec. 1901, CAB 37/59/141. ¹⁹ As quoted in A. L. Kennedy, Salisbury, 1830–1903: Portrait of a Statesman (London, 1953), 393.

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solution was no longer sufﬁcient to solve Britain’s problems. Instead, due to the constraints placed on British power, a collective, multi-departmental effort was required. Its emergence, then, was a reﬂection of the collective crisis of conﬁdence as much as the need for more modern forms of government to deal with complex issues. The vehemence of the internal criticism of Salisbury and the clandestine efforts to ease him out of ofﬁce should not be construed as a fundamental shift in policy. Lansdowne’s policy differences with his predecessor were matters of nuance and emphasis rather than of direction. The transition from Salisbury to Lansdowne did not mark the beginning of a ‘period of experiment in foreign policy’.²⁰ The new analysis of Lansdowne’s policy in early 1901, based on the close scrutiny of diplomatic exchanges, demonstrates that he took no uncalculated risk in his abortive approach to Berlin, nor did he envisage a full alliance. The continued importance of Salisbury’s 1887 accords as the beau idéal of a particular type of ﬂexible, non-binding, geographically tightly deﬁned understanding, is signiﬁcant on a number of counts. It highlights the continuity with Salisbury’s policy; but it also suggests a speciﬁcally British approach to the solution of international problems that transcended the individual personalities of successive Foreign Secretaries and the different political traditions they represented. With this in mind, Ian Nish’s conclusion that the 1902 and 1905 alliances were ‘part of a long-term alliance system’ needs to be qualiﬁed.²¹ Both alliances conformed to the looser type of regional accords, and the internal discussions of them suggest that policy-makers did not regard them as something fundamentally new. Indeed, Lansdowne’s or Hardinge’s comments in 1905 reﬂected renewed conﬁdence in British power. The raising of the garden wall, it seemed, protected the gouty toes and ﬁngers of Sanderson’s misshapen giant. Regained British conﬁdence disguised the more problematic wider impact of the Russo-Japanese War on British strategic foreign policy and the constellation between the Powers in general. From his Peking vantage point, Ernest Satow commented that ‘this part of the world is going to be the scene of important events for some decades to come, and that the centre of political interest will be removed here. . . . The rise of Japan has so completely upset our equilibrium as a new plant the size of Mars would derange the solar system.’²² This assessment ²⁰ G. W. Monger, ‘The End of Isolation: Britain, Germany and Japan, 1900–1902’, TRHS (5) xiii (1963), 108. ²¹ I. H. Nish, The Anglo-Japanese Alliance: The Diplomacy of Two Island Empires, 1894–1907 (Westport, Conn., repr. 1976), 371–2. ²² Satow to Dickins, 27 Jan. 1905, Satow MSS, PRO 30/33/11/6.

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was only partially correct. On the one hand, the outcome of the Russo-Japanese War brought to a close the China Question that had preoccupied the chanceries of Europe. Far Eastern diplomacy now ran in quieter channels, and for that reason 1905 is the natural terminating point for this study.²³ On the other hand, Satow’s prognosis of a disrupted equilibrium was nevertheless correct, only the disruption was to occur in Europe not China. The fusing of the Far Eastern and European spheres of international politics through the China Question meant that Russia’s defeat in 1905 also weakened Russian military power in Europe. The tectonic plates of the Great Power system had begun to shift as a result of Russia’s defeat. The failure of Russian arms in the Far East, compounded by Russia’s domestic and ﬁnancial difﬁculties after 1905, meant that one of the two continental alliance groups was disabled. Since 1894 the uncertain, though relatively stable, equilibrium of Europe had rested on the balance between the Franco-Russian combination and the German-led Triple Alliance. Russia’s defeat, then, not only brought to a close the ﬁnal phase of the China Question; it also disrupted the balance of power that had underpinned the nature of international politics in the late nineteenth century. Until 1905, the Franco-Russian alliance had acted as a restraint on an already restless Germany. The shift in the balance of power in Europe as a result of the Russo-Japanese War removed that restraint. Thus, the, albeit abortive, attempt at a Russo-German rapprochement at Bjørkø was not coincidental; it was the direct result of the war in Asia. Without the might of Russia’s arms in Germany’s rear, France was now exposed to German pressure, and Berlin’s decision to challenge French pretensions in Morocco in 1905 was linked to Russian weakness, as the secretary to the CID commented: German policy ‘is based on the belief that [France] cannot count upon our support or that of Russia’. Following the Moroccan crisis, it was widely accepted among British ²³ By early 1907 there was a ﬁnancial and political rapprochement between Tokyo and Paris, followed shortly afterwards by an agreement with France’s ally Russia. The Russo-Japanese agreement of July 1907 established the exclusive control of Russia and Japan over Mongolia and Korea respectively, and divided Manchuria into spheres of inﬂuence. That division was conﬁrmed in the second Russo-Japanese agreement of March 1910, which cemented the ties between the erstwhile enemies. Combined, the Russo-Japanese rapprochement and Japan’s annexation of Korea in August 1910 stabilized the Far Eastern pole of international politics. The Anglo-Japanese commercial treaty of 1911 and the renewal of the existing alliance in 1912, though papering over cracks in the relations between London and Tokyo, nevertheless contributed to the further consolidation, albeit only temporarily, of the new Far Eastern status quo, see E. W. Edwards, ‘The Far Eastern Agreements of 1907’, JMH xxvi, 3 (1954), 340–55; P. Lowe, Great Britain and Japan, 1911–15: A Study of British Far Eastern Policy (London, 1969), 38–43.

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diplomats that ‘Germany is the principal danger’; and this contributed to the efforts of British diplomacy under Sir Edward Grey to support France.²⁴ There was a profound irony about these developments in so far as British policy was concerned. The 1902 Anglo-Japanese alliance and the revised alliance of 1905 were meant to continue Britain’s hand-to-mouth policy by means of a regional arrangement with an extra-European Power with seemingly only limited obligations on Britain’s part. The aim was to contain Russia. Instead, the alliance encouraged Japan to seek a military confrontation with Russia, although that was certainly not the British intent. In turn, the prospect of war hastened the conclusion of the Anglo-French entente. In Lansdowne’s calculation, the French agreement was yet another regional arrangement that did not entail far-reaching obligations. But it is the context that gives meaning to international agreements; and the international landscape of 1905 was no longer that which had given rise to the Anglo-French colonial understanding. German pressure on France as a result of Russia’s weakness meant that failure to support France threatened to unravel the entente with Paris. So began the process of Britain’s growing involvement in European affairs.²⁵ This study, then, ends with a paradoxical conclusion. As the re-examination of the internal discussions in the period from 1895 to 1905 has shown, in terms of the conceptualization of British foreign policy by British ministers, there was no ‘end of isolation’, the latter deﬁned as selective engagement in international politics on the basis of limited agreements that provided for geographically clearly deﬁned cooperation, whilst maintaining the maximum amount of freedom of manoeuvre possible. At the same time, Lansdowne, in his efforts to continue Britain’s established policy, had unwittingly contributed to the transformation of the international environment; and in the new post-1905 environment that policy could no longer be pursued. Isolation had been reafﬁrmed in 1905. But its apparent success helped to destroy its continued justiﬁcation. ²⁴ Quotes from Clarke to Balfour, 13 June 1905, Whittinghame Muniment MSS; and Spring-Rice to Lansdowne (private), 6 Aug. 1905, Lansdowne MSS, FO 800/116; see T. G. Otte, ‘ “Almost a Law of Nature”?: Sir Edward Grey, the Foreign Ofﬁce, and the Balance of Power in Europe, 1905–1912’, Power and Stability: British Foreign Policy, 1865–1965: Essays in Honour of Michael Dockrill, ed. E. Goldstein and B. J. C. McKercher (London, 2003), 83–8. ²⁵ The transition period in international politics between 1903 and 1909 still awaits proper treatment. I have set out some of my thoughts in ‘The Fragmenting of the Old World Order: Britain, the Great Powers, and the Russo-Japanese War’, The Russo-Japanese War in Perspective, ed. R. Kowner (London, 2006), 91–108.

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Index Adowa 178, 179 Aehrenthal, Aloys Lexa von 234 Afghanistan 289 agreements Anglo-Chinese (1885) 25 Anglo-French entente (Apr. 1904) 21, 318–19, 322, 337 Anglo-German (Oct. 1900) 204, 208–15, 217, 218, 235, 238, 242, 243, 244, 250, 259, 264, 266, 267, 273, 299, 334 Anglo-Russian (project, 1898) 103–4, 104, 106–10, 112, 116, 122–3, 127, 147, 158, 172, 330 Anglo-Russian (Pamirs, 1895) 48, 82 Anglo-Russian (Scott—Muravev, Apr. 1899) 167–76, 177, 190, 206, 215, 222, 224, 241, 243, 263, 331 Franco-Russian (Mar. 1902) 310–11 Lobanov—Yamagata (Jan. 1896) 87 Mediterranean (Feb. and Dec. 1887) 66, 243, 299, 325, 331, 335 Nishi—Rosen (Apr. 1898) 116 Russo-Chinese (Mar. 1898) 115, 167 Ts’êng—Alekse’ev (1900–1) 232, 236, 244, 245, 246, 248, 262, 263, 264, 265, 290, 324 Akers-Douglas, Aretas, Viscount Chilston 214 Alexander III, Tsar of Russia 33, 43 Allen, Clement F. R. 98 alliances Anglo-Chinese (draft, 1895) 53 Anglo-German (project, 1898) 132, 133–61, 333–4, 335 Anglo-German (project, 1900–1) 199, 203, 236, 237, 240, 256–9, 268, 269–81, 298–9, 300–1, 302–3, 305 Anglo-Japanese (notion of ) 100, 107, 115, 192, 243, 244, 330 Anglo-Japanese (Jan. 1902) 21, 22, 26, 286–9, 292–306, 307, 309, 310, 311, 316, 317, 319, 324–5, 337

Anglo-Japanese (Aug. 1905) 323–5, 331, 332, 337 Franco-Russian (1894) 4, 14, 63, 71, 85, 92, 120, 130, 135, 146, 147, 154, 176, 188, 192, 199, 210, 237, 255, 257, 288, 292, 294, 297, 298, 300, 309, 317, 328, 333, 336 Triple (1881 et seq.) 12, 14, 19, 27, 89, 115, 141, 143, 154, 213, 237, 273, 275, 277, 278, 279, 280, 298, 300, 302, 311, 334, 336 Anglo-Saxonism 13, 18, 136, 158, 159 Aoki Sh˚zf, Viscount 30, 32, 45, 183, 187 Ardagh, Major-General Sir John 63, 220, 224–5, 257, 263, 283 Armenian Question 44, 64, 68, 82, 86, 103, 120 ‘balance of power’ 17, 83, 86, 306, 314, 336 Balfour, Arthur James 9, 18, 26, 86, 103, 110, 111, 114, 115, 117, 119, 120, 121, 124, 126, 128, 130, 135–7, 139–42, 144–52, 154–5, 159, 161, 163–7, 172, 175, 184, 186–7, 189, 193, 195, 200, 202, 204, 207, 210, 214, 238, 273, 276, 291, 295–6, 300–3, 311–18, 320–1, 325, 332, 333 Banque de Paris 80 Barrington, Hon. (Bernard) Eric (Edward) 192 Basily, Aleksandr Konstantinovich 223 Battenberg, Prince Louis 313 Bax-Ironside, Henry George Outram 113, 183–4 Beaconsﬁeld, Benjamin Disraeli, Earl of (also Beaconsﬁeldism) 18, 121, 122, 328 Benckendorff, Aleksandr Konstantinovich Count von 313, 320–1 Beresford, Admiral Lord Charles de la Poer 153

358

Index

Bertie, Hon. Francis Leveson 16, 22–3, 38, 41, 90–2, 94–7, 106, 113, 123–4, 126, 137, 172, 181, 195, 201, 203, 207, 208, 219, 224–6, 230, 235–6, 239, 241–2, 244, 245, 249, 243–5, 257–8, 267, 283, 286–8, 292–3, 295–8, 308, 326 Bismarck, Prince Otto von 13, 161, 271, 297 Boxer Uprising (1900) 20, 26, 177–96, 197, 213–14, 220, 222, 280, 291, 329, 334 Boxer indemnity (1901) 225, 242, 270, 287, 290 Bredon, Robert 95 British and Chinese Corporation (BCC) 162–4, 172, 174, 234, 241 Brodrick, (William) St. John (Fremantle) 133, 184, 185–7, 189, 195, 201–2, 204 Browne, Lieutenant-Colonel George Fitzherbert 182, 227 Buller, Admiral Sir Alexander 97 Bülow, Bernhard Heinrich Martin von (later Prince) 94, 101, 141, 143, 146, 151, 177, 186, 192, 197, 206–7, 209, 210, 212, 217–18, 229, 238, 242, 248, 251, 258–62, 264, 266, 269, 271–2, 274, 280, 283, 290, 307–8, 310 Burma 85 Cabinet 21, 42, 44, 56, 58–61, 68, 103–4, 110, 114–17, 120–1, 126–7, 133, 136, 155, 186, 191, 195, 197, 203, 238, 258–9, 276, 296, 300–2, 305, 312, 316, 321, 331–2 Cambon, Paul 174–5, 318–19 Campbell, Sir Francis Alexander 179, 230, 233, 266, 284 Carles, William Richard 181, 182, 185 Cassini, Arthur Pavlovich Count 38, 86, 87 Castlereagh, Robert Stewart, Viscount 16 Cavendish, Captain Alfred 71 Central Asia 3, 5, 64, 289, 324, 329 Chamberlain, Austen 133, 312–14, 316 Chamberlain, Joseph 8, 9, 18, 100, 108, 110, 117–19, 120, 122–4, 126, 132, 133–61, 175, 184, 193, 198, 202, 205–7, 213, 237–40, 276, 290, 299, 306–7, 312, 331, 333 Chaplin, Henry 122, 138–9, 145, 153 Charmley, John Denis 6, 330–1 Chefoo 99, 140, 151

Chili province 125, 191, 219, 222, 227 China Association 8, 89, 95, 239 China League 8 Chirol, Sir (Ignatius) Valentine 37 Churchill, Lord Randolph Spencer 117 Chusan islands 85, 90, 100–1, 111, 145, 179, 183 Clarendon, George Frederick William Villiers, 4th Earl of 10, 11 Clarke, Colonel Sir George Sydenham 323–4 Cockburn, Henry 86 Committee of Imperial Defence (CID) 318, 323, 332, 336 Conservative Party 6, 18, 142, 156, 159, 312–3 ‘China Party’ in 8 ‘Country Party’ tradition 6, 178, 330–1, 332 conventions Anglo-Chinese (June 1898) 127 Anglo-French (Jan. 1896) 19, 85, 125, 330 Anglo-Russian (Aug. 1907) 331 Cassini (1896) 86 Sino-French (June 1895) 84, 93 Sino-German (Mar. 1898) 101 Waldersee—Linevich (Oct. 1900) 228–9, 234 Courcel, Alphonse de 50, 54, 62–4, 68, 85, 97, 128 Cranborne, James Cecil, Viscount 133, 258–9 Crédit Lyonnais 80 Cross, Richard Assheton, Viscount 99 Crowe, Eyre Alexander 309 Cumberland, Ernest Augustus, Duke of 141 Currie, Sir Philip Henry Wodehouse (Baron Currie of Hawley) 64, 213 Curzon, George Nathaniel, Viscount (later Marquess) Curzon of Kedleson 85, 113, 123–6, 130, 133, 134, 151–2, 162, 165, 184, 186, 188, 289 Darwinism 13, 17, 136 Decrais, Pierre-Albert 31, 47 Delcassé, Théophile 318–19 Derby, Edward Henry Stanley, 15th Earl of 22 Derenthall, Eduard Baron von 194

Index Deutsche-Asiatische Bank (DAB) 75–6, 102, 116 Devonshire, Louise, Duchess of (née Countess von Alten) 121, 137, 238 Devonshire, Spencer Compton Cavendish, 8th Duke of 9, 121–2, 124, 136–7, 139, 145, 153, 195, 237, 238, 240, 276 Deym, Franz de Paula Count Deym von Stritez; 160 Disconto-Gesellschaft 75 Doggerbank incident (Oct. 1904) 320–1 Dreibund (Far Eastern) see triplice Dufferin and Ava, Frederick Temple Hamilton-Temple-Blackwood, 1st Earl of 77 Eckardstein, Hermann Johannes Arnold Wilhelm Ernst Baron von 137, 138, 145, 152, 154–7, 192–3, 206, 229, 237, 240, 242, 245, 247–8, 256–8, 260–1, 264, 268, 270–80, 288, 295, 298, 299, 302 Edward VII, King of Great Britain and Ireland (Albert Edward, Prince of Wales) 197, 281, 303, 306, 312, 315–6 Edwards, E. W. 328 Erskine, Hon. William Augustus Forbes 245 Esher, Reginald Baliol Brett, Viscount 18, 35 Fashoda incident (Sept. 1898) 170, 208 Foreign Ofﬁce 7, 8, 15, 21, 23, 41, 58, 59, 76–7, 89–90, 95, 106, 136, 182, 184, 266, 276, 295, 318 ‘Foreign Ofﬁce mind’ 8, 254 Formosa 54, 56, 63, 72 Fraser, Hugh 31 Fremantle, Admiral Sir Edmund Robert 38 Gardiner, A. G. 13 Gaselee, General Sir Alfred 221, 227, 230 Gérard, Auguste 42, 48 Giers, Mikhail Nikolaevich de 283 Giers, Nikolai Karlovich de 33–4, 37–9, 40, 42–5 Gladstone, William Ewart 11, 13, 17, 44, 120 Gordon, General Charles 182 Goschen, (William) Edward 89, 94–5

359

Goschen, George Joachim 101, 104, 111, 119–20, 121, 124, 126, 137, 184, 186, 195, 198–9, 200–4, 207 Gosselin, Martin Le Marchant Hadsley 81 Graevenitz, Georg Aleksandrovich Baron 265 Grenville, John Ashley Soames 144, 237 n., 256 n. Grey, Sir Edward 20, 32, 57–8, 71, 337 Grierson, Colonel James Moncrieff 229–30, 231 ‘gunboat diplomacy’ (also coercion) 22, 25, 26, 177 Hainan 96, 105, 110–11 Hamilton, Lord George Francis 183, 188, 191, 195, 198–9, 204, 214, 273, 276, 285–6, 292, 304, 328 ‘Hamilton committee’ 198–207, 211 Hankow 115 Hanotaux, (Albert Auguste) Gabriel 77, 78, 81, 91 Harcourt, Sir William Vernon 9, 11, 14, 45, 57–9, 61, 68 Hardinge, Sir Charles 222–6, 290, 296, 315, 320, 335 Harmand, François-Jules 49 Hart, Sir Robert 36, 39–41, 49, 75–6, 91, 99, 102–3 Hatzfeldt-Wildenburg, (Melchior Gustav) Paul Count von 50–1, 59–62, 67, 78, 86, 91–112, 139–52, 156, 160–1, 182, 192, 193, 201, 206, 207–12, 229, 238, 240, 247, 250, 264, 271, 273–80, 288, 298, 302 Hayashi Tadasu, Viscount 46, 49, 69, 234, 239, 253, 273, 288, 289, 295–7, 299, 300–3, 311, 313 Heyking, Edmund Baron von 92, 94, 113 Hicks Beach, Sir Michael Edward 102, 104–5, 120–1, 124, 126, 186, 190, 195, 198, 203–4, 207, 273, 276, 285, 286, 292, 304, 328 Hiroshima peace talks (1895) 48 Hohenlohe-Schillingsfürst, Chlodwig Prince zu 89, 218 Holstein, Friedrich Baron von 80, 83, 88, 89, 197, 208, 240, 247–8, 251, 273–4, 277, 280

360

Index

Hong Kong 96–7, 111, 130, 145, 183 Hong Kong and Shanghai Banking Corporation (HSBC) 75–7, 110, 162–4, 167 Howard, Christopher H. D. 5 Hwang-ho River 125, 208 ‘imperialism’ 13, 14, 117–19, 122, 133 India 4, 96, 183, 306, 317, 323, 324 ‘isolation’ (also ‘free hand’) 5, 6, 12, 13, 103–4, 117–23, 131–2, 135, 157, 158, 213–14, 215, 243, 257, 270, 295, 326–30, 334, 337 Itf Hirobumi, Prince 34, 48–9, 55, 65, 70, 100, 116, 295–6, 299, 303 Jardine, Mattheson and Co. 95, 162 ‘jingoism’ 18, 121 Kálnoky, Gustav Count Kálnoky von Köröspatak 66 Kapnist, Pyotr Aleksevich Count 49, 50, 62 Katf Takaaki, Count 70, 72, 74 Kennedy, John Gordon 213 Kerr, Admiral Lord Walter 293–4, 313 Keswick, William 95, 239 Khitrovo, Mikhail Aleksandrovich 31, 34, 49 Kiaochow 85, 88–94, 97–8, 102, 104, 106–8, 114, 123, 126, 129–30, 148, 151, 154, 169, 174, 194 Kimberley, John Wodehouse, 1st Earl of 9, 10–12, 20, 30–73, 74, 76–9, 80–4, 131, 178, 329, 330 Kinsky, Karl Count Kinsky von Wchinitz und Tettau 233–4 Kitchener, Field Marshal Sir Herbert Horatio, Earl Kitchener of Khartoum 106 Knobel, F. M. 86 Komura Jutarf 91, 296, 302 Korea 30, 32, 54, 62, 66, 71, 87, 123, 220, 243, 257, 287–8, 293, 295–7, 300, 304, 311, 312, 314, 317, 324 Kurino Shinichirf 253, 257, 258 Labouchere, Henry 118 Lamsdorff, Vladimir Nikolaevich Count 108–9, 110, 111, 169–70, 173, 190–1, 196–7, 206, 215, 221–3, 225–6, 233,

236, 239, 246, 248–9, 252, 261–5, 290, 296, 310, 323 Lansdowne, Henry Charles Keith Petty-Fitzmaurice, 5th Marquess of 9, 20–1, 23, 117, 119, 120, 124, 195, 198, 200, 201–4, 214, 216–19, 226, 229–66, 268–9, 270–82, 284–90, 293, 300, 302–9, 311–12, 313–23, 331, 332, 334, 335, 337 Lascelles, Sir Frank Cavendish 38–9, 40, 43–6, 49–50, 52, 56–7, 60–1, 67, 69, 72, 79, 81–2, 109, 128, 151, 159, 173, 186, 193–5, 197–9, 217–18, 235–6, 248, 251–2, 255–8, 267, 271–2, 274, 280, 284, 306, 308–10, 319 Leopold II, King of the Belgians 163 Lessar, Pavel Mikhailovich 165, 172 Liao-tung peninsula 56, 59–60, 70–1, 82, 106, 110, 111, 114 Liberal Party 14, 44–5, 57–8 Liberalism and foreign affairs 17, 57 Li Hung-chang 49, 51–6, 65–6, 83, 87, 105, 110, 197, 246–7, 251–2, 259 Linevich, General Nikolai Pyotrovich 220, 228–9 Li Peng-heng 93 loans to China Anglo-German (1896) 83 Anglo-Russian (project, 1898) 103–4 Cassel (1895) 83 Franco-Russian (1895) 83 HSBC (1898) 164, 169, 173 3rd indemnity (1898) 108, 110 Lobanov-Rostovskii, Prince Aleksis Borisovich 55–6, 59, 60, 62–4, 66–7, 96–70, 72, 79–82, 87 Lofêng-lu, Sir Chichen 56, 164, 240, 246, 247 Lowther, Gerard Augustus 65, 67 MacDonald, Colonel Sir Claude Maxwell 3, 25–6, 89, 90, 93–4, 97, 98, 101–4, 107–9, 114, 127, 130, 140, 145–6, 149, 163, 168, 179–83, 194, 197, 198, 204–5, 221, 253, 289, 311 McKinley, William 112, 115 Manchuria 21, 39, 52, 54, 71, 82, 86–7, 96, 115, 124, 127, 130, 154, 161, 163, 166, 167, 169, 171–3, 176, 183, 208,

Index 220, 230, 232–5, 238–9, 241–2, 245, 247–8, 250, 254, 256–9, 262, 264, 266–7, 290, 297, 311–3, 320, 323 Manchurian crisis (1900–1) 216, 222, 232–68, 269, 270, 283, 286 Maple, Sir (John) Blundell 138, 277 Marschall von Bieberstein, Adolf Baron 50, 81 Marsden, Arthur 17 Martel, Gordon 9, 330 Marx, Karl 6 Masampho 315 Mekong valley 85 Metternich, Paul Count von Wolff-Metternich zur Gracht 302–3 Mohrenheim,Arthur Pavlovich Baron von 80, 91 Monger, George W. 5 Monson, Hon. Sir Edmund John 66 Montebello, Gustave-Louis Lanne, marquis de 49, 310 Morley, John 14, 68, 118 Moroccan crisis (1905) 336–7 Morrison, Dr (George) Ernest 232–3, 244 Munro, Hector H. (‘Saki’) 20 Muravev, Mikhail Nikolaevich Count 88, 92, 94–5, 105–9, 115–16, 124, 127, 166–9, 171–5, 178, 187, 190 Mutsu Munemitsu 30–2, 34–5, 37–8, 43, 45–6, 48–50, 55, 65, 70 Nanking 183 Neilson, Keith 5, 22, 327 ‘neo-Bismarckianism’ (British) 23, 236, 298, 313, 315 ‘neo-Dreibund’ 252 Newchwang 208, 221, 224–5, 228, 239, 251–2 Nicholas II, Tsar of Russia 44, 47, 67, 69, 87, 88, 106, 109, 169, 178, 223, 249, 264, 321–2 Nish, Ian H. 327, 335 Nishi Tokujirf 55 Oakes, Augustus Henry 262–3 O’Conor, Sir Nicholas Roderick 23, 24–5, 30, 32–3, 35, 37, 40–1, 47, 52–4, 70–1, 74, 76, 78, 80–1, 89, 96, 103, 105–7, 109–12, 115, 120, 127, 172

361

Ottley, Rear-Admiral Sir Charles Langdale 324 Paget, Ralph Spencer 31–3, 25 Pakhoi 96 Paléologue, Maurice 322 Parkes, Sir Harry Smith 23, 25–6 Pauncefote, Sir Julian (Baron Pauncefote of Preston) 104, 112 Peking conference (1900–1) 222, 281–3 Peking legation 23–4 Penjdeh crisis(1885) 10, 25 Percy, Algernon, Earl 323 Persia (and Persian Gulf ) 96, 109, 225, 289–91, 299, 329 Pescadores islands 56 Phipps, (Edmund) Constantine 42 Port Arthur 39, 45, 56, 59–60, 62–3, 87, 94–5, 97–8, 102, 104–5, 107–8, 114–17, 119, 122–4, 126, 127–30, 139, 154, 157, 169, 245 Port Hamilton 97, 111 railways Chinese Eastern Railway (CER) 87, 222, 225 Imperial Railways of Northern China (IRNC) 162, 164, 168, 202, 204, 220–3, 225, 227, 229, 231, 234, 241 Peking—Hankow 163, 164, 241 Peking—Shanhaikwan 163 Shanhaikwan—Newchwang extension line 163–4, 165–6, 168–72, 177 Tangku—Tientsin 228 Tientsin—Hankow 151–2 Trans-Siberian 31, 69, 82, 86, 94, 127, 146, 177 Rendel, Stewart, Lord 40–1 Renouvin, Pierre 2 Richthofen, Oswald Baron von 209, 218, 251, 255, 257–8, 284 Ritchie, Charles T. 309, 312 Ritter, Gerhard 134 Rosebery, Archibald Philip Primrose, 5th Earl of 9, 11, 12–5, 28, 29, 30, 35–7, 39, 41–2, 45–8, 53–4, 57–9, 61–8, 70, 72, 78–9, 82, 99, 131, 328–30 Rothschild, Alfred Charles de 79, 138–9, 142, 153

362

Index

Rothschild, Hannah de, Countess of Rosebery 12 Rothschild, Nathan de, Lord 77 N. M. Rothschilds banking ﬁrm 77 Rotshtein, Adolf Yulevich 79–80, 82 Rozhestvensky, Admiral Zinovii Pyotrovich 320–1 Russo-Chinese Bank (RCB) 79, 82, 87, 170, 241 Salisbury, Robert Arthur Talbot GascoyneCecil, 3rd Marquis of 2, 5, 6, 9, 12, 15–19, 21, 24, 25, 27, 82–8, 90–123, 131, 132–6, 140–2, 147, 149–50, 154–65, 168, 170–2, 174–5, 177–93, 197, 200–6, 208–15, 216–17, 219–20, 225, 229, 236, 237, 239, 242–4, 247, 251, 253, 256–7, 259–60, 264, 268, 270–3, 275–6, 279–80, 285, 289, 291, 293, 296, 298, 301, 303, 304–5, 311, 317, 326, 330–5 Samsah inlet 101 Sandars, Jack Sattersﬁeld 133, 214 Sanderson, Sir Thomas Henry 16, 22, 27, 33, 35, 53, 61, 76, 77, 79, 84, 91–2, 96–7, 103, 105–6, 109, 111, 127, 129, 162, 165, 172–4, 181, 193–4, 196, 200, 209–10, 212, 225, 245, 250, 254–5, 267, 274, 277–80, 285, 326, 335 San Mun Bay 179 Santu island 101 Satow, Sir Ernest Mason 24, 26–7, 71, 83–5, 90, 100, 116, 178, 181, 183–4, 230, 232–3, 236, 239, 245, 247, 250–2, 262, 281, 283, 285, 287, 307–8, 319, 335, 336 Schwarzhoff, General Julius von 228 Scott, Sir Charles Stewart 166–9, 173–5, 179, 191, 195–6, 22–6, 230, 233–4, 245–50, 261–2, 264, 270 Selborne, William Roundell Palmer, 2nd Earl of 292–6, 309, 312, 314–17 Seymour, Admiral Sir Edward Henry 140, 146, 181–2, 184–6, 189 Shanghai 37, 52, 72, 145, 200, 213, 283, 291, 308–9 Shansi province 125

Shantung province 88, 94–5, 110, 114, 124–5, 129–30, 142–3, 146–7, 151–2, 174, 181, 209–11 Siam 85, 200 Simonoseki peace talks (1895) 54–6, 65 Smith, Sir Cecil Clementi 97 Staal, Georg (Igor) F. C. Baron von 33, 34, 46, 51, 54–6, 60–2, 64, 67–8, 79, 81–2, 86, 105–7, 114, 127, 160, 171 Steiner, Zara S. 15, 333 n. Stuebel, Dr Oskar Wilhelm 283–4 Suez Canal 102 Taiping rebellion (1860–4) 1 Taku 219 Talienwan 91, 108, 110, 114–15, 122, 127–9, 139, 168, 170, 239, 241 Thornton Haven 101 Tientsin 219, 221, 227–8, 230, 234, 251–2, 320 Tonghak insurgency 29 Tower, Richard Thomas 232–3 Tracey, Vice-Admiral Sir Richard 97 treaties Anglo-Japanese commercial (July 1894) 28, 30 Bjørkø (Aug. 1905) 322, 332, 335 Hay—Pauncefote (Feb. 1900 and Nov. 1901) 278 Peace of Portsmouth, New Hampshire (Aug. 1905) 322, 324 Peace of Shimonoseki (Apr. 1895) 62, 65, 66, 331 Trench, Hon. (Power) Henry LePoer 31, 42, 49, 65, 71 Triple intervention (1895) 69–70, 79 Triplice (Far Eastern) 70–4, 76–8, 80, 90, 95–6, 115, 125, 195, 255, 274, 283, 306, 331, 333 Tsingtao 89, 101, 308 Tsushima Straits 97, 322–3, 324 Tyrrell, William George 238 Tz’u Hsi, Empress Dowager 178, 181 Uchida Yasuya 251 Victoria, Queen of Great Britain and Ireland 35, 237

Index Villiers, Sir Francis Hyde 38 Vladivostok 86–7 Waldersee, Field Marshal Alfred Count von 192, 194–7, 218–19, 221, 226, 228–31, 234, 334 Wales, Albert Edward, Prince of see Edward VII wars Boer (1899–1902) 21, 177, 181, 184, 190, 204, 214, 235, 260, 285, 291, 310, 334 Crimean (1853–6) 158, 187, 285, 323, 334 Russo-Japanese (1904–5) 27, 306, 311, 314, 318–23, 335–6 Sino-Japanese (1894–5) 11, 14, 25, 28–73, 74, 78, 83, 99, 173, 206, 328, 329 Spanish-American (1898) 112 Waters, Colonel Walter Hely-Hutchinson 201 Weihaiwei 45, 49, 50, 72, 95, 98, 100, 113–14, 116–17, 120, 122–5, 127–31,

363

133, 135, 137, 139–40, 145, 148–9, 151, 157–8, 184 Whiggism 11, 12, 15, 20, 21, 22, 232 Wilhelm II, German Emperor 88, 116, 129, 153–7, 159, 161, 192–200, 202–3, 205, 217, 237–9, 248, 261, 267, 271–2, 274, 284, 307, 321–2 Wilhelmshöhe meetings (Apr. 1898 and Sept. 1900) 153–4, 197–8 Witte, Sergei Yulevich Count 77, 79–82, 87, 103, 105–7, 109, 168–71, 178, 220, 222, 224, 245–6 Wolseley, Field Marshal Garnet, Viscount 226–7 Wyndham, George 133 Yalu River 39 Yangtze (river and basin) 37, 38, 60, 72, 95–6, 109, 111, 114–15, 125, 147, 152, 161–4, 166–7, 169, 172, 174, 176–7, 179, 190, 196, 200–2, 204, 206–9, 213, 215, 220, 229, 265, 275, 287, 293, 308 Young, George Macaulay 5