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Fragile Rise: Grand Strategy and the Fate of Imperial Germany, 1871-1914 Qiyu Xu full chapter instant download
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Fragile Rise
The Belfer Center Studies in International Security book
series is edited at the Belfer Center for Science and International Affairs
at the Harvard Kennedy School and is published by the MIT Press. The
series publishes books on contemporary issues in international security
policy, as well as their conceptual and historical foundations. Topics of
particular interest to the series include the spread of weapons of mass
destruction, internal conflict, the international effects of democracy
and democratization, and U.S. defense policy.
A complete list of Belfer Center Studies appears at the back of this volume.
Fragile Rise
Xu Qiyu
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Contents
Foreword . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . vii
Graham Allison
Translator’s Note. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xi
Joshua Hill
Preface. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xvii
Xu Qiyu
1. A Low-Posture Rise . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1
2. “Active Shaping” and the Foundation of a Grand Staretegy. . . . . .33
3. Working to Maintain the Grand Strategy. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .67
4. Entering the Post-Bismarckian Era . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 95
5. Institutions, Society, Popular Opinion, and Grand Strategy. . . . . 127
6. From Weltpolitik to Encirclement. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 155
7. An Obsession with Command of the Seas . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 191
8. The Schlieffen Plan and the Retreat of Grand Strategy. . . . . . . . 227
9. Crisis Management on the Path to World War, 1908–1914 . . . . . . . 259
Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 293
About the Author . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 329
Contributors. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 331
Index . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 333
Belfer Center Studies in International Security . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 343
About the Belfer Center for Science and International Affairs. . . . . . . 346
Foreword
Graham Allison
student of naval power and leading champion of the buildup of the U.S.
Navy—asked the kaiser whether he would consider a moratorium in the
budding German-British naval arms race. Wilhelm replied that Germany
was unalterably committed to having a powerful navy. But he asserted that
this would not be a problem because war between Germany and Britain was
simply unthinkable. “I was brought up in England,” he said, “I feel myself
partly an Englishman. Next to Germany I care more for England than for any
other country.” He then added, with emphasis, “I ADORE ENGLAND!”
World War I provides many lessons for statesmen today. None is more
relevant for current leaders than the stark reminder that however unimagi-
nable conflict seems, however catastrophic the consequences for all would-be
actors, however deep the cultural empathy among leaders, and however
economically interdependent states may be—none of these factors was suffi-
cient to prevent war in 1914. Nor would they be today.
The centennial of World War I has inspired a spirited discussion in the
West about lessons to be learned from Germany’s rise and the reactions of
other powers, especially Great Britain. In China, too, historians have been
called on to help illuminate the present. Indeed, in 2003, the Chinese Politburo
commissioned a lengthy study on the trajectories of the nine nations that had
become great powers in modern history (Portugal, Spain, the Netherlands,
Great Britain, France, Germany, Japan, Russia, and the United States). This
study, entitled The Rise of the Great Powers, was later presented in the form
of a twelve-part television series which was broadcast on China’s leading
channel, China Central Television (CCTV), with a companion eight-volume
book series. Both enjoyed considerable popularity and sparked a national
conversation. This book can be seen as a further extension of that debate.
Unfortunately, much of that conversation in China has failed to reach the
West. In sponsoring the translation of a new book which has been praised by
Chinese scholars as the best account by a Chinese historian of Germany’s rise,
The Belfer Center for Science and International Affairs hopes to make this
Chinese perspective available to a broader audience.
Xu begins his account of Germany’s rise with the unification of the
German Empire in 1871. He argues that since unification meant the
emergence of Germany as a great power, it also created the central paradox
that came to define German foreign policy: As Germany’s power grew, so too
did its neighbors’ apprehensions. To address this paradox, Germany initially
adopted a low profile in foreign affairs. By 1878, however, Otto von Bismarck,
the guiding hand behind German foreign policy, had become active and
visible in shaping European politics. The objective of his grand strategy was
viii
Foreword
to sustain Germany’s rise. In Xu’s view, despite severe pressure from abroad as
well as within the country, his combination of strategic and diplomatic skills
allowed him to overcome opponents or keep them off balance.
Bismarck’s successors, Xu argues, were not up to the challenge he left
them. A preeminent land power by the mid-1890s, Germany’s pursuit of a
commanding navy brought it into predictable, unavoidable, but unnecessary
conflict with Britain. Germany’s obsession with naval preeminence became
a major strand in the recklessness of “Weltpolitik.” This increasing German
aggressiveness, according to Xu, was the primary cause of the world war that
destroyed Germany’s “fragile” rise.
Xu’s analysis of German policy and emphasis on the naval race and the
Schlieffen Plan as significant contributors to the war complements one of the
mainstream schools of Western thought about World War I, alongside authors
like Fritz Fischer, Margaret MacMillan, and Paul Kennedy. Unlike Fischer,
however, he does not argue that the Great War stemmed from deliberate and
strategically coherent German aggression. Nor does he argue that Germany’s
growing material capabilities inevitably led to war, as some Western scholars
have claimed. Rather, Xu’s nuanced analysis finds that while Germany’s rise
created structural stresses that moved the actors toward war, those stresses
could have been negotiated by good strategy and statesmanship (as Bismarck
had demonstrated). It was the absence of such strategy and statesmanship in
Bismarck’s successors that allowed inconsequential events in the Balkans to
spark war throughout Europe. In this respect, Xu’s analysis can be compared
to Henry Kissinger’s in Diplomacy.
Although Xu refrains from stating them explicitly, Fragile Rise holds a
number of important lessons for the rise of China in our own time. First,
China’s rapidly growing economic and military power will inevitably create
structural stress between China and the United States—a phenomenon that
I have labeled the “Thucydides Trap.” Whatever the intentions of leaders of
both nations, they will have to recognize and manage the risks that inevitably
accompany changes in the international balance of power.
Second, this structural stress does not mean that war is inevitable. As Xu
notes, prudent diplomacy and astute statesmanship can meet this challenge,
as Bismarck demonstrated. Significantly, while compromises will be needed
on both sides, Xu’s emphasis on the “fragility” of the rising power suggests the
burden may fall disproportionately on Chinese leaders.
The defining question for this generation is whether these Chinese leaders
and their counterparts in the United States will be up to the challenge. In this
regard, Fragile Rise provides an important clue for Chinese leaders hoping to
ix
Fragile Rise
x
Translator’s Note
Joshua Hill
A s Xu Qiyu wrote on the original cover of his Fragile Rise: Grand Strategy
and the Fate of Imperial Germany, “When it is difficult to see clearly into
the future, looking back to history, even the history of other peoples, might
be the right choice.” Although he does not repeat those words inside his book,
their spirit is present throughout his text. Xu’s Fragile Rise is implicit policy
advice in the form of an extended historical analogy. This approach has a long
tradition in Chinese scholarship—nearly fifteen hundred years ago, a Tang
dynasty emperor praised a counsellor adept at using “antiquity as a mirror to
understand the rise and fall of states [yi gu wei jing, ke yi jian xing ti]” and the
metaphor of “history as a mirror” remains part of the Chinese language even
today—and represents a profound cultural inclination toward using history as
a tool for thinking about the present.1
For that emperor, history primarily consisted of canonical tales of
Chinese dynasties, both actual and mythical. That purely domestic history
still remains a powerful source of insight and inspiration for Chinese leaders.
Some analysts, indeed, argue that an awareness of this tradition holds the
key to understanding contemporary policymaking.2 Xu Qiyu participates
in an expansive descendant of this longstanding predisposition that seeks
value in the histories of other nations beyond China. This was radical when
first proposed by early twentieth-century journalist and political theorist
Liang Qichao, who saw the histories of various “lost nations,” from India to
Poland, as relevant for a China beset by Western and Japanese imperialism.
It has long since entered the intellectual mainstream. At various points in the
twentieth century, Japanese, Soviet, and Singaporean historical experiences
have been seen to have special relevance for China. Cosmopolitan reasoning
of this sort is common enough to be unremarkable today. The prevalence of
these ecumenical discussions in a country convinced of its own uniqueness
perhaps should inspire emulation in other nations that pride themselves on
the “exceptional” nature of their histories.
German history, too, has served as a “mirror” for Chinese intellectuals
and political leaders to reflect on their country’s situation. Over a century
ago, many viewed Germany as a model for China’s future. In 1905, officials
Fragile Rise
appointed by the Qing, China’s final dynasty, visited Germany to study its
constitutional monarchy, with an eye toward adopting a similar system at
home. A second scholarly mission followed in 1908, and substantial aspects
of late Qing political reform, including the laws used in China’s first autho-
rized legislative elections, bore the mark of German influence. A decade later,
after a republican revolution in China and Germany’s defeat in the Great War,
Chinese observers saw Germany’s post-war recovery as an inspiration for
their own reconstruction. Chiang Kai-shek, who governed China after 1927,
admired Germany enough that he sent his adopted son there for military
training in the late 1930s, explaining to him that “Germany is the only country
from which we can learn something. They can give us the base from which to
develop our own style: firm and solid.”3 Chiang looked to Germany for more
than mere spiritual sustenance, however. German military advisors helped
train his army in the 1920s and 1930s, while trade in strategic minerals linked
the economies of the two nations.
Xu Qiyu, working within the very different geopolitical context of the
early twenty-first century, discerns within German history a warning for
contemporary China. Like many others eager to think through the implica-
tions of China’s rise in the twenty-first century, he has drawn a comparison
with Wilhelmine Germany between 1871 and 1914. The parallels between the
two seem irresistible—then, as now, the emergence of a new power, fueled by
a dynamic, fast-growing economy, dramatically reshaped the global strategic
balance. Wilhelmine Germany also serves as a cautionary tale of an emerging
power that failed to find a place within the existing international order; its
rise ultimately resulted in a total war that imposed ruinous consequences for
all combatants, victors and defeated alike. The analogy is deeply imperfect,
as virtually all who explore it admit, yet it is so powerfully frightening that it
compels serious attention.
In recent years, the parallel drawn between contemporary China and
Wilhelmine Germany (along with its corollary, the equation of today’s United
States and the pre-1914 British Empire) has become enmeshed with, and cited
as an example of, Graham Allison’s notion of a “Thucydides Trap.” Named for
Thucydides’s contention in The History of the Peloponnesian War that Sparta’s
fear of Athens’s rapid growth led to a destructive confrontation between the
two Greek city-states, it has become a metaphor for the cycle of fear and antag-
onism that emerges between rising and established powers. It is a trap that can
produce grim results: “in 12 of 16 [such] cases over the past 500 years,” Allison
argues, “the outcome was war.”4 The 2014 centennial of the July Crisis that
sparked World War I has further inspired scholars to examine this analogy in
xii
Translator's Note
xiii
Fragile Rise
xiv
Translator's Note
ization. Xu never directly suggests these linkages, yet carefully and subtly
draws the reader’s attention to them.
As Xu portrays it, the path that German history followed after 1890 was
not foreordained. Poor leadership—characterized by the abandonment of not
only grand strategy itself, but even the belief that grand strategy was possible—
accounted for its fate. The drift from crisis to crisis and the increasing polar-
ization of the European state system that led to war in August 1914 did not
result from a German plan, but the lack of one. Although Xu does not char-
acterize it as such, this is a claim that the decades before 1914 were essen-
tially a “lost chance.” Better leadership, coupled with strategic planning, could
have allowed Wilhelmine Germany to continue its (relatively) peaceful rise
well into the twentieth century. The persistence of that Germany—an indus-
trial powerhouse with a territory larger and more populous than the current
German Republic, possessed of one of the world’s most formidable militaries,
and spared the physical and psychological devastation of defeat in two world
wars—would surely have changed the course of world history to an incalcu-
lable degree.
Following Xu’s logic, it stands to reason that if grand strategy could have
allowed Germany to sidestep catastrophe in 1914, it will also help China avoid
a similar fate in the twenty-first century. The precise elements of such a grand
strategy he leaves unstated, but his portrayal of Bismarck’s policies suggests
several of its foundations. The first of these is psychological. Policymakers
should be flexible, dynamic, appreciative of the emotional aspects of interstate
diplomacy, and sensitive to the limits of power. Xu’s Bismarck grasped the
value of such insights; his successors did not. The next foundation is institu-
tional. The policymaking organs of government—particularly those engaged
in diplomatic or military affairs—need effective coordination from a central
authority. Bismarck, generally, accomplished this; under his successors, intra-
bureaucratic links (particularly those that bound the military and diplo-
matic establishments) disintegrated, and agencies pursued independent, and
contradictory, policies. The final aspect is philosophical. History, Xu argues,
provides “gaps” or opportunities that a skilled leader can use to reshape
unfavorable situations. Bismarck sought these out, while Germany’s post-
Bismarckian leadership overlooked their existence. Instead, his successors
fatalistically came to believe that they were helpless pawns buffeted by forces
that were both powerful and inevitable. Believing that events were beyond
their control, they designed short-term plans that ensured that, one day, a
local crisis would snowball into a continental war.
xv
Fragile Rise
Joshua Hill
Changsha, Hunan and Athens, Ohio
September 2015
xvi
Preface
Xu Qiyu
I decided to use the notion of “grand strategy” to examine the rise and
fall of Wilhelmine Germany for two particular reasons. First, it gave me a
thread to follow through the enormous mass of historical materials. Second,
it allowed me to resolve a series of deeper doubts and concerns. One of these
concerns is the balance between inevitability and chance as causal factors in
international disputes. Are conflicts, particularly direct clashes between great
powers, inevitable? Are there deep-rooted elements that “determine” the
outbreak of an “inevitable” conflict? This question is ultimately philosophical
in nature, as it impinges on humanity’s understanding of itself and its place in
the world. Most people accept that both chance and inevitability exist, yet the
notion of chance often leaves many uncomfortable. As a result, it is often seen
as secondary in importance to inevitability, or as some sort of an “exception.”
In fact, the “laws of history” leave “gaps” that are large enough to allow people
to take an active, dynamic role. Chance plays an important part too, but the
task of grand strategy is to adapt to these laws of history while, as much as
possible, simultaneously exploiting the “gaps” in history.
In Wilhelmine Germany, Chancellor Otto von Bismarck understood this
well and, as a result, was always ready to accept imperfect or uncertain results.
His successors, however, were the exact opposite. They sought certainty in
all things and placed an excessive emphasis on the concept of “inevitability.”
These philosophical differences were an important element in the quick disin-
tegration of German grand strategy after Bismarck’s forced retirement. Ulti-
mately, the emphasis that German leaders placed on “inevitability” developed
into an obsession. They became ever more firm in their belief that a major war
was “unavoidable.” This led them to engage in a series of “inevitable” prepara-
tions that, ultimately, did make war truly “unavoidable.”
Researching pre–World War I Germany from the perspective of grand
strategy also touches upon the issue of rationality and irrationality. While
reading the ancient Greek historian Thucydides as a graduate student, I was
struck by one of his observations of political culture in wartime Athens:
“Prudent hesitation [came to be seen as] specious cowardice...the advocate
of extreme measures was always trustworthy; his opponent, a man to be
suspected.”1 Later, after I began working at the Institute for Strategic Studies at
National Defense University and had the opportunity to interact with many
officials and scholars (both Chinese and foreign), I came to recognize that
this phenomenon has been replicated in many other times and places. The
irrational assault on policymaking and grand strategy that this phenomenon
leads to was readily apparent in Wilhelmine Germany.
xviii
Preface
xix
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
in its natural state water and solid matter in the proportion of 90 parts
of the former to 10 parts of the latter, and if, we suppose, these 10
parts of solid matter to be cholenic acid with 5.87 per cent. of
nitrogen, then 100 parts of bile must contain 0.171 of nitrogen in the
form of taurine, which quantity is contained in .06 parts of theine, or,
in other words, 272 grains of theine can give to an ounce of bile the
quantity of nitrogen it contains in the form of taurine. The action of
the compound in ordinary circumstances is not obvious, but that it
unquestionably exists and exerts itself in both tea and coffee is
proven by the fact that both were originally met with among nations
whose diet was chiefly vegetable. These facts clearly show in what
manner tea proves to the poor a substitute for animal food, and why
it is that females, literary persons and others of sedentary habits or
occupation, who take but little exercise, manifest such a partiality for
tea, and also explain why the numerous attempts made to substitute
other articles in its place have so signally failed.
TEA AS A STIMULANT.
“Life without stimulants would be a dreary waste,” remarks some
modern philosopher, which, if true, the moderate use of good tea,
properly prepared and not too strong, will be found less harmful than
the habitual resort to alcoholic liquors. The impression so long
existing that vinous or alcoholic beverages best excite the brain and
cause it to produce more or better work is rapidly being exploded,
healthier and more beneficial stimulants usurping their place. But
while the claims made in favor of the “wine cup” must be admitted, it
cannot for a moment be denied that as excellent literary work has
been accomplished under the influence of tea, in our own times,
particularly when the poet, the essayist, the historian, the statesman
and the journalist no longer work under the baneful influence of
spirituous stimulants. Mantegaza, an Italian physiologist of high
repute, who has given the action of tea and other stimulants careful
study, confirms this claim by placing tea above all other stimulants,
his enthusiasm for it being almost unbounded, crediting it with “the
power of dispelling weariness and lessening the annoyances of life,
classing it as the greatest friend to the man of letters by enabling him
to work without fatigue, and to society as an aid to conversation,
rendering it more easy and pleasant, reviving the drooping
intellectual activity and the best stimulus to exertion, and finally
pronouncing it to be one of the greatest blessings of Providence to
man.”
Tea was Johnson’s only stimulant, he loved it as much as Porson
loved gin, drinking it all times and under all circumstances, in bed
and out, with his friends and alone, more particularly while compiling
his famous dictionary. Boswell drank cup after cup, as if it had been
the “Heliconian spring.” While Hazlitt, like Johnson, was a prodigious
tea-drinker, Shelley’s favorite beverage was water, but at the same
time tea was always grateful to him. Bulwer’s breakfast was
generally composed of dry toast and cold tea, and De Quincy states
that he invariably drank tea from eight o’clock at night until four in the
morning, when engaged in his literary labors, and knew whereof he
spoke when he named tea “the beverage of the intellectual.” Kent
usually had a cup of tea and a pipe of tobacco, on which he worked
eight hours at a stretch, and Motley, the historian tells us that he
“usually rose at seven, and with the aid of a cup of tea only, wrote
until eleven.” And Victor Hugo, as a general rule, used tea freely, but
fortifying it with a little brandy. Turning from literature to politics, we
find that Palmerston resorted to tea during the midnight sessions of
Parliament. Cobden declaring “the more work he had to do the more
tea he drank,” and Gladstone himself confesses to drinking large
quantities of tea between midnight and morning during the prolonged
parliamentary sittings, while Clemenceau, the leader of the French
Radicals, admits himself to be “an intemperate tea-drinker” during
the firey discussions of debate.
In moderation, tea is pre-eminently the beverage of the twilight hour,
when tired humanity seeks repose after a day of wearying labor.
Then the hot infusion with its alluring aroma refreshing and
stimulating, increasing the respiration, elevating the pulse, softening
the temper, producing tranquility in mind and body, and creating a
sense of repose peculiarly grateful to those who have been taxed
and tormented by the rush and routine of business cares and
vexations. What a promoter of sociability, what home comforts does
it not suggest, as, when Cowper, on a winter’s evening, draws a
cheerful picture of the crackling fire, the curtained windows, the
hissing urn and “the cup that cheers?” When, however, tea drinking
ceases to be the amusement of the leisure moment or resorted to in
too large quantities or strong infusions as a means of stimulating the
flagging energies to accomplish the allotted task, whatever it might
be, then distinct danger commences. A breakdown is liable to ensue
in more than one way, as not infrequently the stimulus which tea in
time fails to give is sought in alcoholic or other liquors, and the atonic
dyspepsia which the astringent decoction produced, by overdrawing
induces, helps to drive the victim to seek temporary relief in spirits
chloral or the morphine habit, which is established with extraordinary
rapidity. For it is a truth that as long as a person uses stimulants
simply for their taste he is comparatively safe, but as soon as he
begins to drink them for effect he is running into great danger. This
may be stating the case too forcibly for stimulants, but if this rule was
more closely adhered to we should have fewer cases of educated
people falling into the habit of secret intemperance or morphomania.
That Queen Anne ranked among its votaries is manifest from Pope’s
celebrated couplet:—
Johnson did not make verses in its honor, but he has drawn his own
portrait as “a hardened and shameless tea drinker, who for twenty
years diluted his meals with an infusion of this fascinating plant,
whose kettle had scarcely time to cool, who with tea amused the
evening, with tea solaced the night, and with tea welcomed the
morning.” While Brady, in his well-known metrical version of the
psalms, thus illustrates its advantages:—
That Coleridge, in his younger days, must have liked tea is inferred
from the following stanza:—
WORLD’S PRODUCTION
AND
CONSUMPTION.
The first direct importation of tea into England was in 1669, and
consisted of but “100 pounds of the best tea that could be procured.”
In 1678 this order was increased to 4,713 pounds, which appears to
have “glutted the market;” the following six years the total
importations amounting to only 410 pounds during that entire period.
How little was it possible from these figures to have foreseen that tea
would one day become one of the most important articles of foreign
productions consumed.
Up to 1864 China and Japan were practically the only countries
producing teas for commercial purposes. In that year India first
entered the list as an exporter of tea, being subsequently followed by
Java and Ceylon. In 1864, when India first entered the list of tea-
producing countries, China furnished fully 97 per cent. of the world’s
supply and India only 3, the latter increasing at such a marvelous
rate that it now furnishes 57, China declining to 43 per cent. of the
total.
TABLE 1.
ESTIMATED TEA PRODUCTION OF THE WORLD.
Countries. Production Exportation
(Pounds). (Pounds).
China, 1,000,000,000 300,000,000
Japan, 100,000,000 50,000,000
India, 100,000,000 95,000,000
Ceylon, 50,000,000 40,000,000
Java, 20,000,000 10,000,000
Singapore, 20,000 10,000
Fiji 30,000 20,000
Islands,
South 50,000 20,000
Africa,
—————— —————
Total, 1,270,100,000 495,050,000
From these estimates it will be noted that China ranks first in tea-
producing countries, followed by Japan, India, Ceylon and Java in
the order of their priority; the total product of the other countries
having little or no effect as yet on the world’s supply.
This most important food auxiliary is now in daily use as a beverage
by probably over one-half the population of the entire world, civilized
as well as savage, the following being the principal countries of
consumption:—
TABLE 2.
ESTIMATED TEA CONSUMPTION OF THE WORLD.
TABLE 3.
SUMMARY.
World’s 1,377,600,000
Production,
“ 1,307,130,000
Consumption,
—————
Surplus, 70,470,000
or
Quantity 503,100,000
exported,
Consumption in 432,630,000
non-producing
countries,
—————
Surplus, 70,470,000
In England, particularly, the increase in the consumption of tea in late
years borders on the marvelous, the figures for 1890 reaching
upwards of 195,000,000 pounds, which, at the present rate of
increase, will, in all probability, exceed 200,000,000 in 1892, as in
the quarter of a century between 1865 and 1890 the consumption
rose from 3½ to 5 pounds per capita of the population. But as in the
latter half of that period strong India teas were more freely used,
being increased appreciably by the similar Ceylon product in the
closing years of that time largely displacing the lighter liquored teas
of China, a larger consumption is indicated by the number of gallons
of liquid yielded. This is calculated on the moderate estimate formed
in a report to the Board of Custom to the effect that if one pound of
China leaf produces five gallons of liquor of a certain depth of color
and body, one pound of India tea will yield seven and a half gallons
of a similar beverage. Then by allowing for an apparent arrest of the
advancing consumption when the process of displacement was only
commencing, the increase in the consumption of tea in the British
Islands has not only been steady but rapid; thus, from 17 gallons per
head in 1865 to 24 in 1876, 28 in 1886, reaching 33½ gallons per
head per annum in 1890, the figures of last year almost exactly
doubling that of the first year of the series, so that in consequence of
the introduction of the stronger products of India and Ceylon the
people of Britain have been enabled to double their consumption of
the beverage, although the percentage of increase in the leaf has
been only from 3½ to 5 pounds during the same period. Ceylon tea,
which a decade ago was only beginning to intrude itself as a new
and suspiciously regarded competitor in the English market with
products so well known and established as the teas of China and
India, has recently made such rapid progress that its position in the
British market in 1890, rated by home consumption, occupying third
place on the list. India teas 52 per cent., China 30 per cent., Ceylon
18 per cent.
TABLE 4.
TABLE 5.
The earliest official record of the importation of Tea into the United
States is in 1790, the order of increase for its importation, value and
consumption in the country by decades since that year being as
follows:—
Year. Imports, Value. Consumption Average
Pounds. per capita. Import
Price.
1790, 3,022,983 ...... ... ...
1800, 5,119,341 ...... ... ...
1810, 7,708,208 ...... ... ...
1820, ...... ...... ... ...
1830, 8,609,415 $2,425,018 0.53 22.3
1840, 20,006,595 5,427,010 0.99 24.1
1850, 29,872,654 4,719,232 0.87 27.9
1860, 31,696,657 8,915,327 0.84 26.3
1870, 47,408,481 13,863,273 1.10 29.4
1880, 72,162,936 19,782,631 1.39 27.2
1890, 84,627,870 13,360,685 1.40 20.0
The first duty levied on tea by the United States was in 1789, when a
tax of 15 cents was imposed on all Black teas, 22 cents on Imperial
and Gunpowder, and 55 cents on Young Hyson. But in order to
stimulate American shipping these duties were reduced to 8, 13 and
26 cents respectively, the following year, when imported from Europe
in American vessels, and to 6, 10 and 20 cents when imported direct
from China in the same manner. In 1794, however, the rates were
increased 75 per cent. on direct importations, and 100 per cent. on
all teas shipped from Europe, but again reduced to 12,18 and 32
cents in 1796, the latter rates being doubled during the War of 1812.
In 1828 this tax was again reduced, being entirely removed in 1830,
except when imported in foreign bottoms, when a duty of 10 cents
per pound was collected. The latter rate continued in force up to the
outbreak of the Rebellion in 1861, when a uniform duty of 15 cents
per pound was placed on all teas, which was eventually increased to
20 cents and finally to 25 cents per pound. In January, 1871, this
duty was reduced to 15 cents, being entirely removed in July, 1872,
since which year tea has been uninterruptedly on the free list in the
United States.
TABLE 6.
Showing net imports, value and per capita consumption of tea in the
United States, from 1885 to 1891, inclusive:—
Year. Net Imports, Value. Per
Pounds. Capita,
Pounds.
1880, 69,894,760 $18,983,368 1.39
1881, 79,130,849 20,225,418 1.54
1882, 77,191,060 18,975,045 1.47
1883, 69,597,945 16,278,894 1.30
1884, 60,061,944 12,313,200 1.09
1885, 65,374,365 13,135,782 1.18
1886, 78,873,151 15,485,265 1.37
1887, 87,481,186 16,365,633 1.49
1888, 83,944,547 13,154,171 1.40
1889, 79,192,253 12,561,812 1.28
1890, 83,494,956 12,219,633 1.33
1891, 82,395,924 13,639,785 1.32
TABLE 7.
TABLE 8.