but they were not invincible: they ought, then and there, to have been surmounted. Pottinger little knew with what a faithless element he had to deal, and little dreamed that delay would be taken advantage of, not to lessen, but increase the resistance; that it would be employed not to facilitate, but to thwart our object—not to soothe, but to exasperate the people. Pottinger deemed his treaty a bridge to aid—Keying meant it to be a barrier to resist—our entrance into China. But Sir Henry, before his death, acknowledged his error, and deeply lamented that his confidence had been misplaced. Abundant evidence has since been furnished that the treaty was signed, not with the purpose of honestly giving effect to its conditions, but to get rid of the "barbarian" pressure, and to bide the time, when the treaty obligations could be got rid of altogether.
Proofs were not wanting of this dishonest purpose, and, in consequence, after some hesitation, it was deemed necessary by the British Government to remind the Chinese that their obligation to admit her Majesty's subjects into Canton had not been fulfilled; and they were advised that the Island of Chusan, which we held as a guarantee, would not be surrendered until security was given for the compliance with the treaty stipulation. A short delay was asked by the Chinese, and the assurance, under the authority of the "vermilion pencil," was renewed, that arrangements would be made for our having access to the city. Chusan was in consequence given up to the Chinese authorities; but no steps were taken to prepare the "public mind" to receive us as friends and allies within the walls of Canton. On the contrary, incendiary placards, breathing the utmost enmity to foreigners, continued to be promulgated and pasted on the walls. In 1847, Sir John Davis, naturally impatient at Keying's procrastination and subterfuges, determined to capture the Bogue forts, to move with military forces upon Canton, and to threaten the city into compliance with obligations so long trifled with and disregarded. Keying asked for time, and entered into a formal written engagement that the city should be opened in April, 1849. When the time was at hand, Sir George Bonham, who had succeeded to the governorship of Hong Kong, sought an interview with Seu, who had replaced Keying as imperial commissioner. Seu did not hesitate to say that the ministers had been engaged in a common purpose of deception—that the Chinese and British were both aware the gates were not to be opened—that each had avoided the responsibility of bringing the matter to issue, and had left it to their successors. Seu said he would refer the question to the emperor. The emperor's reply was the stereotyped instruction to all mandarins, who have any relations with foreigners: "Keep the barbarians at a distance if you can—but above all things keep the peace." Now, though we had a large fleet at Hong Kong, the imperial commissioner had undoubtedly obtained information, from some quarter or other, that the fleet would not be employed hostilely, and that he might "resist the barbarian" without compromising the public tranquillity. So he negatived the demands of the British.
That our forbearance was a grievous mistake there can be little
