CHAPTER XIV

WAR DAYS IN PEKING

During my first absence in America Mr. Peck had been appointed consul at Tsingtau, and Dr. Charles D. Tenney had been sent as his successor. My predecessor, Mr. W.J. Calhoun, in a letter concerning Doctor Tenney, bore witness to his unusual acquaintanceship with the Chinese and knowledge of Chinese affairs. Speaking of Doctor Tenney's joy in returning to China, Mr. Calhoun remarked: "There is a strange thing about foreigners who have lived very long in China: they never seem to be contented anywhere else. They are apparently bitten by some kind of bug which infuses a virus into their blood, and makes life in that country the only thing endurable."

Existence of a state of war deeply affected social life in Peking. The mutual enemies could, of course, not see each other. Their social movements, therefore, were considerably restricted. The neutrals, however, having relations with both sides, were if anything more busy socially than at other times. Dinners had to be given in sets, one for the Entente Allies, the other for the Central Powers. The Austrian minister decided that as his country was at war and his people were suffering, he would not accept any dinner invitations at all, except for small parties _en famille_. The other representatives of belligerent powers kept up their social life on a reduced scale. Dancing was gradually restricted, and finally passed out almost entirely.

Mr. Rockhill had died at Honolulu in December, 1914. He had been retained by President Yuan as his personal adviser, and was returning to China from a brief visit to the United States. I felt the loss of a man of such unusual ability and experience, to whom China had been the most interesting country in the world. In all the difficulties which followed, his advice would have been of great value to the Chinese President and Government.

The report of the Engineers' Commission which investigated the Hwai River Conservancy project made that enterprise look even more attractive than I had anticipated. The value of the redeemed land alone would be more than enough to pay the cost of the improvements. I felt that the work would give great credit to the American name. Not only would it assure the livelihood of multitudes through the redemption of millions of the most fertile acres in China, but it would give to the Chinese a living example of how, by scientific methods, the very foundations of their life could be improved. During the winter of 1914-15 a terrible famine was again devastating that region, threatening hundreds of thousands of peasants with extinction. Never had the sum of twenty millions of dollars produced such benefits as would be assured here. But after urgent appeals to the Department in Washington, the National Red Cross, and the Rockefeller Foundation, it was found impossible to secure the necessary capital during the year of the option. The best I could do was to ask for an extension, which was granted, although the Chinese themselves were impatient to see the work begun.

We received reports during the first winter of the war about the suffering endured by German and Austrian prisoners in Siberia. They had been captured during the summer and early autumn, and transported to Siberia in their summer uniforms. Subjected to the intense cold of a Siberian winter, they were herded in barracks unprovided with ordinary necessities; these were sealed to exclude the cold and all kinds of disease were soon rampant. The Legation at Peking, being nearest to Siberia, superintended the relief work there of the American Red Cross; there was also a German relief organization (called _Hilfsaktion_), of which a capable and enterprising woman of Austrian descent, Madame Von Hanneken, was the moving spirit. The Legation's work increased; innumerable appeals came to it directly, and in lending its good offices to the German association care had to be taken that no use of it be made that could be properly objected to. Madame Von Hanneken was on friendly terms with the Russian Legation, which gave her society needed facilities. Its direct representatives were European neutrals, chiefly Danes and Swedes. The work of the American Red Cross among the war prisoners in Siberia, as well as the efforts of the Y.M.C.A. to introduce among them industrial and artistic activities to alleviate their lot, make a story of unselfish effort.

I tried to encourage the Chinese to build good roads. The Imperial roads around Peking were surfaced with huge flagstones which, through rain and climate, had lost alignment; they tilted and sloped at angles like the logs of a corduroy road. Vehicles might not pass them, while the Chinese carts picked their way as best they could over low-lying dirt tracks by the side of these magnificent causeways. The Chinese proverbial description of them is: "Ten years of heaven and a thousand years of hell." The country thoroughfares have worn deep; it is a Chinese paradox that the rivers usually flow above and the highways lie below the surface of the land. In the _loess_ regions the roads are often cut thirty or forty feet deep into the soil.

I first suggested the building of a road from Tientsin to Peking, but the railways did not encourage this enterprise, and it was delayed several years. Mr. E.W. Frazar, an American merchant from Japan who accompanied me to Tokyo in 1915, had successfully established motor-car services in Japan. He had come to north China to establish a branch of his firm there; he was willing to get American capital for road building and to make a contract therefor with the Chinese Government. This particular contract was not concluded, but an impetus had been given to the idea among the Chinese, and the building of roads was gradually taken up, beginning with highways around Peking. The leading men became interested when they began to realize its effect on real estate values.

Governor-General Harrison of the Philippine Islands spent a week in Peking, sightseeing, making many purchases of antiques and Peking products. He was much taken with the Chinese rugs and ordered a number of huge carpets to be made for the Malacañan Palace. We both strongly felt that something should be done to prevent the total disappearance of the American flag from the Pacific, and this we knew would occur if the existing companies carried out their threats of retrenchment and withdrawal. Had one been able to foresee the enormous demand for shipping which was soon to arise, he might have outdistanced the richest of existing millionaires. The Chinese Government did give to an American a contract to establish a Chino-American steamship line, with a government guarantee of $3,000,000; unfortunately, it shared the all-too-common fate of American undertakings in China and was not carried out.

The lunar New Year of the Chinese Calendar was changed to the Republican (Min Kuo) New Year. On January 1st Peking was given a festal aspect. The Central Park, a part of the old Imperial City, had been opened to the public, and under innumerable flags crowds streamed along the pathways, stopping at booths to buy souvenirs and toys, or entering the always popular eating places where both foreign and Chinese music is played by bands large and small. On various public places fairs were held; extensive settlements of booths built of bamboo poles and matting sprang up overnight. There, curios, pictures, brass utensils, wood carvings, gold fishes, ming eggs, birdcages, and other objects useful and ornamental were on sale. Wandering troops of actors and acrobats performed in enclosures to which the public was admitted for a small fee. Before one of these stockades I saw a large sign reading: "Chow and Chang--champion magicians educated _from_ America." So, even here, American education was valued. The art collection in the Imperial City was open at half the usual admission fee; the grounds of the Temple of Agriculture and of the Temple of Heaven were crowded with holiday visitors, and at all theatres were special performances. For three or four days the city wore a holiday aspect.

But the old New Year was not abandoned. On the days before the lunar year ended the streets became alive with shoppers preparing for the grand annual feasting. Quantities of fattened ducks, pigs, chickens, and fishes, loads of baked things and sweets were transported in carts, rickshaws, and all sorts of vehicles or by hand, everyone chattering and smiling in happy anticipation. The Chinese New Year is the traditional time for settling all outstanding accounts. Slates are wiped clean, partnerships are wound up, and all balances settled. When New Year's eve comes, having strained themselves to meet their obligations, all cast dull care aside. Families and clans gather for a gargantuan feasting, the abundance and duration of which outdistances anything seen in the West.

The official celebration of the Republican New Year at the President's Palace had to be modified. Because of the war the diplomatic corps could not be received as a unit. It was therefore arranged that the President receive the foreign representatives in three groups: the Allies, the Neutrals, and the Central Powers. High Chinese officials and picturesque Mongolian dignitaries were received on the first day, the diplomatic representatives on the second. As the President chatted informally with each minister, Madam Yuan received in an adjoining apartment, talking quite naturally with the ladies of the party about such feminine matters as the size of families and the choice of dress materials.

A short time ago a young American teacher, Hicks, was murdered and his two companions seriously wounded while they were ascending the Yangtse River in a boat. The attack was at the dead of night; the survivors recalled only flaring torches and swarthy faces, although they believed that their assailants wore some sort of uniform. The Chinese Government disavowed responsibility, considering it an ordinary robbery, and asserting that if the assailants wore uniforms they must have been insurgents, as no regular troops were near that place. The crime was revolting, destructive of the sense of security of foreign travellers, and I insisted absolutely on payment of an indemnity. Money payment is by no means satisfactory; it does give the injured parties redress and testifies to the desire of the Central Government to protect foreigners, but does not bring the consequences of the crime home to the really guilty parties. I therefore always tried to have the personal responsibility in such matters followed up and specifically determined; in this case it was impossible. The Chinese Government finally agreed to the very handsome indemnity of $25,000 for the death of young Hicks, the largest pecuniary award for loss of life ever made in China. It was an ironical circumstance that just after this had been settled, an American driving his automobile at excessive speed in the Peking streets struck and killed an old Chinese woman. When I stated to the Minister for Foreign Affairs that I would ask this man to pay $300 to the relatives, he replied with a twinkle: "How much was it we paid you for the last American who was killed?"

However, he did not really intend to dispute the reasonableness of even so enormous a difference. Foreigners in China, on account of their employment as managers or head teachers, necessarily have to be considered, from a purely pecuniary point of view, to have a value far above the average. Moreover, should large indemnities be paid for the death of poor people among the Chinese, they would be constantly tempted to let themselves be injured or even killed, in order to provide for their families.

Among the Chinese who visited me during the first year of the war were the military and civil governors of Chekiang Province. Contrary to tradition, both were natives of the province they governed, and good governors, too. The civil governor, Mr. Chu Ying-kuang, who was under forty, was a man of great public spirit and wisdom, eager to discuss constructive ideas and effective methods in government and industry. Governor Chu wrote me a letter of thanks, which may be considered an example of Chinese epistolary style. It ran:

During my short stay in the Capital I hurriedly visited your Excellency and was so fortunate as to draw upon the stores of your magnificence and gain the advantage of your instruction. My appreciation cannot be expressed in words. You also treated me with extraordinary kindness in preparing for me an elaborate banquet. Your kindness and courtesy were heaped high and your treasures were lavishly displayed. My gratitude is graven on my heart and my hope and prayer is that the splendour of your merit may daily grow brighter and that your prosperity may mount as high as the clouds.

I, your younger brother, left Peking on the 29th of last month for the South, and on February 2nd arrived at Hangchou. The whole journey was peaceful so that your embroidered thoughts need not be exercised. I reflect fondly on your refined conversation and cannot forget it for an instant. I respectfully offer this inch-long casket to express my sincere gratitude and hope that you will favour it with a glance.

Respectfully wishing you daily blessings,

Your younger brother.

The new German minister, Admiral von Hintze, arrived shortly after the New Year. I saw him frequently after his first visit, as he had few colleagues with whom, under the conditions of war, he could meet. In order to avoid capture as an enemy, Admiral von Hintze had come from the United States incognito, as a supercargo on a Norwegian vessel. He had been minister in Mexico, and before that the Emperor's representative at the court of the Czar, and was a man of wide knowledge of European affairs and of diplomatic intrigue. For a man of his intelligence, he was inclined to give undue weight to rumours. Peking was amused shortly after his arrival when he sent orders to the Germans resident in all parts of the capital to hold themselves ready to come into the Legation Quarter immediately upon notice being given. He had read books on the troubles of 1900 and on the assassination of his predecessor, Baron Kettler; he therefore saw dire menaces where everything seemed quite normal to older residents. Especially, he imagined himself surrounded by emissaries and retainers of the enemy. Several times he would say to me: "My first 'boy' is excellent. He could not be better. The Japanese pay him well, so he has to do his best to hold his job."

Being himself a clever man and familiar with opinion outside of Germany, Admiral Hintze thoroughly disapproved of the acts of unnecessary violence by which the Germans had forfeited the good opinion of the world, especially the sinking of the _Lusitania_ and the execution of Edith Cavell. "What a mistake," he exclaimed, "for the sake of one woman! Why not hold her in a prison somewhere in Germany until the war is over?" The stupidity of such acts deeply offended him. Had he become Minister for Foreign Affairs at an earlier date, some bad mistakes might have been avoided. When the first reports of the resumption of exacerbated submarine warfare were received, he remarked to me: "Do not believe these reports that Germany will resume unlimited submarine warfare. I can assure you that they will not be foolish enough to do such a thing."

I noticed soon after Admiral Hintze's arrival that his relations with his Austrian colleague were not the most cordial; these two seemed to coöperate with difficulty. They were men entirely different in temperament. The German was a man of the world, inspired with the ideal of German military power and looking on international politics as a keen and clever intellectual game. Concerning Hindenburg, he said to me: "There is a man who makes no excuses for his existence." The Austrian minister was a man of scholarly impulse, with a broad sympathy for humankind, deploring the shallow game of politics, and hoping for a more humane and reasonable system of government than that of the political state.

Mr. Sun Pao-chi, Minister for Foreign Affairs, resigned on January 28th to head the Audit Board, and was succeeded by Mr. Lu Tseng-tsiang. Mr. Lu had enjoyed an extensive experience in Europe. He had acquired a thorough mastery of French and married a Belgian lady, to whom he was deeply devoted. Like his predecessor, he abstained from internal politics. He was called to office when the exceedingly difficult negotiations with Japan concerning the twenty-one demands were begun, and it became his duty to carry through a very painful and ungrateful task. Mr. Lu was interested in general political affairs in their broader aspects, and gave special attention to international law.

I was frequently a guest at the house of Mr. Liang Tun-yen, the Minister of Communications. He was easy-going, prepared to talk business there rather than at the Ministry, where I would see him frequently also, about the Hukuang railways. The engineer of the British section was steadfastly trying to secure standards of British engineering and manufacture, to which it would be difficult for American manufacturers to conform. The Legation was beset with protests concerning orders for materials which Americans did not like, since they embodied the special practice of one partner to the contract. Thus matters of a technical nature had to be argued between the Legation and the Ministry of Communications. Mr. Liang himself was not a railway expert. For example, he once spoke enthusiastically about clearing up the Grand Canal, exclaiming: "then you could go from Peking to Shanghai in a houseboat." We often fell back on the more general features of the political situation in China, concerning which Mr. Liang displayed a gentle skepticism for all proposed reforms. With respect to railroad concessions, he was hostile to the idea of percentage construction contracts, believing it dangerous to measure the returns of an engineering firm by the sum expended on the works. I argued that since the professional standing of such a firm was involved it could not afford to run up the cost of the works merely to increase its own commission. But I did not overcome his skepticism.