CHAPTER XXII

CHINA'S BOSSES COME TO PEKING

I have noted that Dr. Chen Chin-tao, Chinese Minister of Finance, was put in prison. Doctor Chen had administered Chinese finances strictly and well, in a most difficult period. For the military governors or Tuchuns, who were the real bosses of China's vast population, he was too honest and too strict. The Tuchuns looked upon the Minister of Finance as in duty bound to procure funds for them by hook or crook.

When the government banks were broken and had declared a moratorium, their large over-issues of notes were worth only one half their face value. Working with Doctor Chen was Hsu Un-yuen, managing director of the Bank of China. Mr. Hsu managed judiciously to bring the notes of his bank virtually to par. The Tuchuns, aided by the pro-Japanese clique, which formed part of the Premier's entourage, attacked both Hsu and Doctor Chen. For the latter the cabal laid a trap. It was made to appear that he gave support to a certain company in return for having his brother employed. So the cabal, using this pretext to satisfy their grievances, got him arrested and jailed, thus ending his negotiations with the Chicago bank of John J. Abbott. President Li was interested and distressed. When I asked Premier Tuan about Doctor Chen, he smilingly stated that he should have a chance to clear himself.

Meanwhile, the breach between the Premier and the President widened. To strengthen himself in his policy of favouring a declaration of war, the Premier called all the Tuchuns to Peking for a conference. Nine governors-general came, and all the other provinces sent delegates. General Tuan was successful with them, and by April 28th they had decided to support his war policy.

The Tuchun of Shantung was bulky, coarse-looking. I had some idea of his views on representative government from his inaugural address to the Shantung Assembly. "Gentlemen," the Tuchun said with genial frankness, "you resemble birds who are in a large cage together. If you behave well, and sing songs that are pleasing, we shall feed you; otherwise, you shall have to go without food."

Several of the Tuchuns called on me by appointment, and later I gave them a formal reception, at which I saw all who had come to Peking, observed their personalities, and tried to fathom the source of their personal prominence and power. I talked with them individually and in groups, chiefly about the progress of the war and the relative strength of the combatants. My guests were full of smiles and good cheer, particularly did the Tuchun of Fukien radiate joy. In their sociability they were true Chinese, and here, where they had been received with the military honours due to their position and in the spirit of hospitality, they could show themselves in a more amiable light than when maintaining their power in their provinces. To a brief speech of welcome which I made when they had all arrived General Hsu Shu-cheng replied with a most emphatic expression of friendship for America.

That so many of these governors should have risen from the lowliest position was indeed strong evidence of the underlying democracy of Chinese life. But that a mere handful of men should wield such power, each in his province, did not bespeak strength in representative government.

Some of the military commanders were men of education, although most of them had risen from very modest surroundings: Yen Hsi-shan, of Shansi; Chu Jui, of Chekiang; Tang Chi-yao, of Yunnan; Chen Kuang-yuan, of Kiangsi; Ni Tze-chung, of Anhwei; Li Shun, of Nanking, a fisherman's son; Li Ho-chi of Fukien, Tien Chung-yu of Kalgan, both of middle-class families--all these were fair scholars. General Wu Pei-fu, who rose from the post of a private in the Chino-Japanese War, had through great intelligence and industry acquired a good education, as likewise had General Feng Yu-hsiang; both of these generals professed the Christian religion. President Feng Kuo-chang came of a poor family, and as a young man played a fiddle in a small local theatre.

Among the other Tuchuns were many to whom the Chinese applied the proverb: "A good man will never become a soldier." These men, indeed, deserve credit for having risen from their original state as coolies, bandits, or horse-thieves, but they often owe their prominence to qualities which by no means make for the good of the state. Chang Tso-lin, the Viceroy of Manchuria, commenced his career as a bandit; he was pardoned by Chao Er-shun, and became a government officer. Chang Huai-chi was a coolie, and never got much education. Tsao Kun, of Chihli, was a huckster. Wang Chan-yuan was a hostler. The trio, Chang Hsun, Lu Yung-ting, and Mu Yung-hsing, headed the so-called Black Flag Band; at one time the partners put up fifty thousand taels to enable Chang Hsun to buy himself an office and become respectable. But he spent it all in high living. With the antecedents of some of these men one marvels not only at the position they have acquired, but at the personal polish and air of refinement of many of them.

All of them dealt with political power as a commodity, secured through the use of money and soldiers. They were somewhat like the _condottieri_ of the Italian renaissance, looking ahead only to the goal of their personal ambition for wealth and power. Even among these militarists, however, there were those who gave some attention to matters of public policy, and the idea of national welfare and unity had begun to dawn upon their consciousness. Moreover, in them I felt a mixture of the old and the new. They had suddenly come into great power, thought in terms of airplanes and modern armaments, but had as yet few other modern ideas to inspire their action with anything beyond personal motives. In their human qualities, however, several of them excelled; and some, even, showed a real spirit of public service and ability as administrators.

The Japanese Government was still trying to get China into the war, and its minister called on President Li to urge it. I talked on May 9th with the President, who said that he favoured a declaration of war provided parliament was not overridden in the process. Then I saw the Premier. "If parliament is obstinate," General Tuan said bluntly, "it will be dissolved."

I told him it would make a very bad impression in the United States and with other Western powers if parliament were ignored in so important a matter. I knew that parliament did not oppose declaring war, but desired to control the war policy. "But," the Premier urged, "the opposition of parliament disregards national interests. It desires merely to secure partisan advantage." Tuan discussed the attitude of Japan. "The Japanese have assured me," he declared, "that if I follow a strong policy I may count on their support. Now circumstances force the Chinese Government to be friendly to Japan. Of course, I will not give up any valuable rights to anybody, and I will strengthen China in every way so that resistance may be offered to any attempted injustice."

Ironically, he asked whether confidence could be placed in the southern leaders of the Kuo Min Tang. "I have proof," he continued, "that both Sun Yat-sen and Tsen Liang-kuang have given written assurances to the Japanese Consul-General at Shanghai that if either of them becomes President of China he will conclude a treaty granting to Japan rights of supervision of military and administrative affairs more extensive than those sought in Group V of the twenty-one demands." So each party believed the worst of the other.

Events were tending to a climax. The Government was demoralized. Doctor Chen was in prison; Mr. Li Ching-hsi, a nephew of Li Hung-chang, who was to take Chen's place, would not assume office while affairs remained so unsettled. The Ministry of Communications was in charge of an underling. The Minister of Education, who also acted as Minister of the Interior, was seriously ill. The Kuo Min Tang ministers had lost their influence with their party in parliament because of their failure effectively to oppose the Tuchuns' policy. It was believed that the Tuchuns, with the followers of General Tuan, were planning a _coup_ against Parliament.

In the midst of this I had a personal chat with Chen Lu, the Vice-Minister for Foreign Affairs, at an evening reception at the British Legation. I told him of my surprise that the Tuchuns, instead of attending to the urgent business in their provinces, should be gathered here, interfering with the Central Government. I let it be distinctly understood that any movement to overthrow parliament in order to carry out the war policy could not be expected to receive the sympathy of the United States. The vice-minister was in close touch with the Tuchuns. I expected that he would repeat my remarks to them. He did.

As I was leaving the Chancery a few evenings later Mr. Roy Anderson appeared with the news that something was happening and drove me over to the railway station. We went through the Chenmen gate. Along the main street were many carts rapidly driven, loaded with military stores and household goods. Automobiles were rushing by them to the station. On the platform was a turmoil of troops busily transferring the various military possessions to cars. In a parlour car our friends the Tuchuns were assembling. I left Mr. Anderson there to observe and to get information.

It appeared that the Tuchuns had all of a sudden decided to leave Peking for their various capitals, taking their bodyguards with them. Two or three were to remain in Tientsin a little longer to watch developments. Their precipitous exit seemed to indicate that President Li had at last got the upper hand.

As a farewell courtesy to Doctor Willoughby, the American legal adviser, the President had invited him and me to luncheon on the following day. President Li was cheerful. The discomfiture of the Tuchuns filled him with glee. "All danger is passed," he announced; "I will dismiss General Tuan, appoint a new cabinet, and have parliament decide the war question without compulsion."

In order to inform myself as to what was behind the President's confidence, I asked him what he had to put in the place of his cabinet and General Tuan, and whether he believed that the Government could be carried on without the concurrence of that important party.

"Oh, yes," the President assured me, "it is all arranged."

Pressing him a little further, and asking upon whom, in particular, he was relying, to my unspeakable surprise, he said: "General Chang Hsun will assist me."

Now General Chang Hsun was an old-time bandit and militarist. His ideas were devoid of any understanding of representative institutions. It passed my power of imagination to see how reliance could be placed in this general for the vindication of parliament. As I looked dubious, the President repeated: "Yes, you may believe me. I can rely on General Chang Hsun."

It was not what Chang Hsun stood for that the President relied on, but on his enmity to General Tuan. Li Yuan-hung, though quite modern in his conception of government, in this instance followed a strong Chinese instinct which aims to prevail by setting off strong individuals against each other.

After I had heard that the dismissal of General Tuan had been announced, General Chin Yun-peng called on me. He was agitated and much worried. "Do you not think that General Tuan should leave Peking?" he asked. "His enemies will undoubtedly wish to take his life."

I tried to cheer him up by telling him that in a modern government such ups and downs must be expected. "Let the other side now develop their policy, and show what they can do; let General Tuan use this time for quiet recuperation, after the strain he has been through. Then," I said, "the time will come again when Tuan will be called back to power." The eyes of the good general lit up with gratitude. General Ni Tze-chung, most notorious and active among the military party, declared on the 26th of May that the dismissal of General Tuan had been illegal. His province of Anhwei disapproved; it would act independently of the Central Government.

This was the crucial point in the development of the situation.

Expert observers said that had the President immediately dismissed Ni and ordered his punishment, appointing a junior commander in his place, the rest of the militarists would have fallen away from Ni, and the President could have dealt with them individually. Instead, he was persuaded to send a conciliatory letter to General Ni.

This, of course, confirmed the leadership of Ni over the military party; further, it encouraged the majority of the Tuchuns to declare their independence.

A so-called provisional government was set up at Tientsin. The older and wiser heads of the military party, men like General Tuan Chi-jui and Mr. Hsu Shih-chang, held themselves entirely aloof from this new organization.

General Ni Tze-chung was the leading spirit. By dint of force the so-called government helped itself to the deposits of the Chinese Government in the Tientsin branch of the Bank of China. The men greatly in evidence were the members of the pro-Japanese clique, Mr. Tsao Ju-lin and General Hsu Shu-cheng. General Aoki, the Japanese military adviser to the Government, was also on the ground.

In Peking a paralysis crept over the Government. The President lost his advantage as quickly as he had gained it. On the railways all orders of the Tuchuns for transportation were implicitly obeyed. When at this time the question of the movement of revolutionary troops and their stationing at Tientsin and along the railway came up, the Japanese minister persisted in the position that it would be highly undesirable to make any objection on the ground of any possible conflict with the protection of the railway by foreign troops. Two months before, the Japanese Legation had strongly objected to the stationing of a few government troops along the same railway.

The President issued a mandate inviting Chang Hsun to Peking as arbitrator.

When I interviewed the President, he looked disconsolate His youthful English secretary, Mr. Kuo, tried his best to give a more cheerful and confident note to Li's conversation, but Doctor Tenney, who was with me, easily compared the President's doleful Chinese with the more buoyant English translation.

The plan of the Tuchuns was directed toward isolating and strangling Peking. They controlled the railways leading there, and were preventing the shipment of foodstuffs. The ministry that controlled the railways, it must be remembered, was controlled by Japanese influence. Constitutional government in China was paralyzed through the lack of military and financial authority.

The war issue worried the Chinese. First, they feared that the militarist party would take advantage of it, through the support of Japanese influence, to fasten its hold upon China; second, that China might by the Allies be made a field in which to seek compensations. But if local political troubles had not entirely upset the situation, it might have been possible to arrange for a joint declaration of the powers that would have allayed suspicion and made it feasible for China to enter the war with a sense of security.

Dr. Wu Ting-fang, acting on the suggestion of Mr. Lenox Simpson and liberal-minded Chinese publicists, made a move to have the American Government do something. He sent advices to Minister Koo in Washington telling him about General Ni and his leadership of the revolt of the Tuchuns. The southern provinces were still loyal to the President and parliament, and the civil and commercial population disapproved of the rebellion. President Wilson and Secretary Lansing were asked to make a statement in behalf of representative government in China. This was followed by a direct appeal to President Wilson.

But the American Government had already instructed me on the 5th of June to communicate to the Chinese Government a statement evincing a sincere desire for internal political harmony. The question of China's entry into the war, it said, was secondary to continuing the political unity of China and the laying aside of factional disputes. I accompanied it orally with a personal statement that the United States conceived the war to be one for the principles of democracy; that it would deplore any construction of its invitation which would lend itself to the idea that it contemplated any coercion or restriction upon Chinese freedom of action. I made plain that no matter how much the United States wished the coöperation of China in the war, it did not desire to bring this about by using the political dissensions or working with any one faction in disregard of parliament.

General Tuan Chi-jui at once stated to Doctor Ferguson, who unofficially informed him of the American note at Tientsin, that he had totally withdrawn from all politics. The Chinese press gave a very favourable reception to the note; the Chinese people welcomed America's advice. General Feng Kuo-chang, later when he had become President, spoke of the note to me, and remarked on the salutary influence it had wielded upon public opinion in China.

While the political dissensions in the Chinese state were too personal to be overcome by any friendly suggestions from the outside, nevertheless the American note had set up a standard for all the Chinese. It had, furthermore, given convincing proof of the fact that the true interests of China were impartially weighed by the American Government, and were not entirely subordinated to any war policy which America might desire to advance. From all parts of China came expressions of gratitude and satisfaction that the American Government should have spoken to China so justly and truly. The Chinese appreciated the spirit of justice of the American Government in not desiring to have the war issue used for the purposes of enabling any faction or party to override the free determination of the Chinese Government and people. As America was itself at war and would therefore have welcomed coöperation, this just policy particularly impressed the Chinese.

The Japanese press both in Japan and China immediately launched forth into a bitter invective against the American action. The United States should have consulted Japan. Its action constituted interference in the domestic affairs of China. "If China listens to advice from America," a Japanese major-general declared in an excited speech at a dinner in Peking on the 7th of June, "she will have Japan to deal with."

The Japanese ambassador at Washington protested informally. Had not Secretary Bryan, in a note dated the 13th of March, 1915, recognized the special and close relations, political and economic, between Japan and China? It was impossible that the American minister at Peking was taking a part in political affairs in China, but the Japanese public was sensitive about the note sent by the American Government to China. Would it not be useful if the American Government would confirm Mr. Bryan's statement?

The reply to this communication did not come until the 6th of July. Mr. Bryan's statement, the reply said, referred only to the special relations created by territorial contiguity in certain parts of China. Even with respect to them it in no way admitted that the United States might not in future be justified in expressing itself relative to questions that might arise between China and Japan. The United States could not be indifferent to matters affecting the welfare of the Chinese people, such as the unrest in China.

The first detachments of Chang Hsun's troops arrived in Peking on the 9th of June. Chang Hsun's theory was that it is the business of a trooper to make himself terrible. These wild horsemen, wearing loose-fitting black uniforms, with their cues rolled up on the back of the head, rode about Peking with the air of conquerors. The "Mediator" was coming with sufficient military force to back his judgment.

When General Chang himself arrived, the streets from the railway station to the Mediator's house in the Manchu city were entirely shut off. Mounted troopers blocked the way as my automobile came along a side street to cross one of these thoroughfares. They nearly collided with the front of my machine, drew their guns, and would not budge. To explain to them my right to pass would have meant sending someone to the Foreign Office; even then in order to go on I might have to run over them, for the Foreign Office, undoubtedly, meant nothing at all to them. I told my companion not to let them know my position. We tried to pass through on the ground that we had business on the other side, but they reared their horses up and down, and nearly came into the machine with us. We were held up until the great man had arrived and had raced from the station to his residence.

When I was with Dr. Wu Ting-fang a few days later the card of a secretary of the cabinet was brought in. I knew that he was trying to induce Doctor Wu to sign a decree dissolving parliament. I had heard in the morning that President Li had finally caved in; for Chang Hsun's first prescription for restoring China was to declare that parliament must be dissolved. The President relied on Chang's assistance. He could not help himself, he must accept the dictation of the man he had summoned.

I rejoined a friend who awaited me outside in the automobile. He had just overheard the chauffeur of the cabinet secretary and the doorman of the Foreign Office. The chauffeur had said: "Is your old man going to sign up? You had better see to it that he does, else something might happen to him."

These subordinates were keeping their eyes open.

The Japanese minister, on whom I called that morning, said to me: "General Chang's mediation is the last hope of peace. It is desirable that parliament be gotten rid of, it is obstructive, and makes the doing of business well-nigh impossible."

Dr. Wu Ting-fang stood out against countersigning the mandate that would dissolve the parliament. In matters of spiritualism, vegetarianism, and longevity, I had perhaps not always been able to take him quite seriously. But I admired his quiet courage in not allowing himself to be bowled over, after even President Li had given in. Before daylight on the 13th of June Doctor Wu was roused from his bed and now asked to countersign a Presidential mandate designating the jovial General Chiang Chao-tsung, commander of the Peking gendarmerie, to act as Premier, and accepting Doctor Wu's resignation. Before daybreak General Chiang signed the mandate dissolving parliament. The President consented to its issue, for he had been told it would be impossible to prevent disturbances in Peking unless this were done.

So wore on the early summer of 1917. Affairs seemed to have arrived at a stalemate.