CHAPTER XVII

THE SZECHUEN REVOLT

It was long before the outbreak of the Revolution that Szechuen was in the throes of a revolt that threatened early to spread to most dangerous limits from every aspect. The cause of the trouble was the building of railroads. Szechuen demanded exclusion from the scheme for the nationalisation of the railways. The literati and the students took the matter in hand, declared determinedly that the province should build its own railways, and in a very short time the province was in an uproar. We have but little space to deal with the history of the disturbances, but seeing that when it was at its worst there existed a serious anti-foreign spirit, it will be well to give a brief review on the affair.

For several years one had become accustomed to the startling pronouncements from Peking as to what the Government of China intended to do with regard to the establishment of railroads throughout the length and breadth of the land, and what the consequent opening up of the country would be. During the past few years of China's alleged awakening we had, however, waited in vain for the much-debated new lines. In each Provincial Assembly one of the foremost among the matters of agenda had always been the railway which came no nearer, and the public had grown accustomed to the talk and instinctively had arrived at the position {236} where they do not expect any concrete result in the shape of railroad actualities.

The announcement made during the spring of 1911 would seem to have indicated, however, that that time was past with the coming into public office of his Excellency Tuan Fang as Director-General of Railways. Whilst he held public office Tuan Fang was a man who, next, perhaps, to Yuan Shih K'ai, was looked upon as the prince of officials, was famous for the tact and ability with which he approached all matters having anything to do with the foreigner, was highly respected by the people, was astute, far-seeing, progressive in the truest sense, and generally respected as a public pillar in the coming of the New China. But one day, when the funeral of the late Empress was taking place, he was unfortunate enough, as will be seen in a footnote printed below, to commit one of the greatest breaches against Imperial etiquette. The wrath of the Throne was brought down upon him. Tuan Fang was dismissed peremptorily, put his papers in his pocket, and cleared out of the service in apparent disgrace. That, however, was in the old days. China, since then, had been quickly undergoing a process of mighty change, and Tuan had changed with the times. He was now taken into office by the Government, and among other things that came directly under his control was the management of the railways proposed to become and those already under construction. So that it was now reasonably expected that some progress would be made--not so speedy as the programme would indicate, perhaps--but certain was it that no man at the time in the whole of the Government arena was more capable of handling that particularly needed adjunct of national progress as the modern railroad admittedly is in China. In China the railway question is one of the most vital importance. By virtue of size alone China, it was seen, must seek the aid of every railway-building nation in the world if she was to complete {237} her proposed schemes. The problems of railways here in China only touch the difficulties of construction and initial expense. The stage where the relation of the railways to society and commerce becomes more and more complicated has not yet arrived. China is innocently free for the most part from such vexatious questions as the competition of rates and fares, the combination of railway systems, the pooling of traffic, and State or private ownership. The conditions prevailing in China are rather the result of historical evolution, and cannot possibly be regarded as the outcome of any policy. If a railway has rails, then in China it can very well be called a railway--and China has shown us that she has been satisfied, and the Chinese Government has always been the victim of circumstances, guided wholly by the golden age in the past rather than an intelligent outlook for the golden age of the future. The railways that China possesses had always been, and still are, the most flagrant examples of how railways should not be run. They had been a disgrace to a nation that has put forward a claim to be making endeavours to get out of the grip of antediluvianism. They have lost money, have been allowed to get into the sorriest state of disrepair that can be imagined, and altogether have been white elephants. But the spirit of railway construction during the last few years took hold of the Government. In the enlightened provinces of north and east China the people talked railways, they thought railways, they dreamed railways, and with the advent of Tuan Fang as the Director-General of Railways they seemed set upon building railways. The need of opening up this wonderful Empire is an oft-repeated tale, not needing to be reiterated. In every province in the west of the Empire there is known to be a wealth in the earth that will in time allow China to vie with the United States in natural resources. For her own intercommunication and exchange of products China's first need is the railway. If her exports are {238} to increase in a proportionate measure with her opportunity of natural development, China must have a network of railroads to enable her speedily to transport her products to the coast. The need is there, and aided by the Great Four Nation Loan, China (so it seemed at the commencement of 1911) would be able to move with enormous strides. She now had the money, and she had now chosen the man. It was only to be hoped that his Excellency Tuan Fang, in entering upon his important mission to the New China, would not find his hands tied by that unmoving element of the Old China which still rigidly maintained an attitude of short-sighted independence.

Early in the scheme which made for the nationalisation of the railroads it was seen that Szechuen would not pull with the other provinces--Hunan was another. It was one of the unaccountable phenomena of the times in several of the central provinces of China that the gentry and the _literati_ were impressed in a manner the reverse of satisfactory over the loaning of money by the Powers to China. Several places had been on the verge of a revolt as a result of the Government's decision, and in some places there was a marked dislike to the Imperial methods of opening up the country. The first thing that impresses the observer of social conditions in China to-day is the magnitude of the industrial forces that are everywhere at work--the man who does not work finds little to eat. In seven-eighths of this enormous Empire the bulk of the country's work is performed by the energies of human beings and beasts of burden. China--that is, the common people of the country--has not learned the lesson of harnessing to the chariot of industrial progress one of the great natural forces, and they are taught from the cradle to believe that when once a labour-saving machine is introduced, that exact number of people whose combined work is accomplished by the machine will commence to starve. The ordinary Chinese looks out of {239} his almond-shaped eyes, but does not see wherein lies the wealth of the land. That the United States of America increased its mechanical horse-power from two million in 1870 to roughly twelve million in 1900, and has enjoyed greater wealth with its increase--and that his own country could do the same, mattered not to the ordinary Chinese. He argues in a very elementary manner. He has so many mouths to feed; there is so much work to be done; when all the work that there is to be done is done by hand labour, even then there are thousands of mouths that cannot be filled, and if labour-saving machinery is introduced, what will become of the millions who will be thrown out of employment? So argues the ordinary Chinese, and for fear of making matters worse than they are, he votes plump against the introduction of foreign machinery. This was the spirit of the proletariat towards the opening of the country by railway lines. But the change was bound to come, and although the people of Szechuen showed plainly that they intended tooth and nail to fight against this that they little understood, the Government seemed to show most strongly that it intended to push the building of the lines. The question was, of course, of thrilling interest to China as a nation, and of vital importance to the whole of the East and the West. In former times the people themselves had had the opportunity to build their own railways, the same as private companies did in Europe and America. They stolidly refused, they believed such an innovation of the devil to be directly against the welfare of the country. For ages the Chinese Government thought the same, but when the partly-awakened China reached out to grasp its last chance of swinging commercially into line with other great nations of the world, there was to be no hesitancy. China must have railways. She could not build them herself--she had no money. Europe and America could build them; Europe and America had the money, and {240} were doing what any other right-thinking nation would characterise as a gracious act (although not quite free from the loaves and fishes element), and it was the duty of the Chinese Government to rule with an iron hand against any hysterical hooligans whose Imperial short-sightedness rendered them a dangerous element in the country.

There was for several months during the initial trouble no anti-foreign movement. A Society boasting the name of the One Aim Society--the one aim being to get the railway loan rescinded--was formed, many scholars of repute being the leaders, who prided themselves upon conducting their campaign in quite a civilised fashion, and not in the old way of destroying public buildings and so forth. Where agitation existed against the missionaries and foreigners the leaders stepped in, agitated for and subsequently succeeded in getting many of the commoner ringleaders beheaded. For many hundreds of square miles the countryside was pamphleted to the effect that "not a blade of grass belonging to a foreigner must be touched," the writer going on to declare that "if we do this, we shall only injure our own cause and give the foreign nations a pretext to step in and divide up our country.... This has nothing to do with the missionaries of any nation. If foreign nations have money to lend, and China wishes to borrow, they have a perfect right to lend upon the very best terms that they can get. We, therefore, cannot blame the foreigners, but only our own Government."

Whilst, however, this was the authoritative attitude of the promoters of the agitation, there were many of the "roughs" of the country--that party which has been eternally agitating against both Government and foreigners--who hoped to take advantage of the trouble to promote its own aims. Towards this end some curious proceedings were reported to have transpired. The press became irrepressible, the cartoons against {241} foreigners were vile--such things as Chinese soldiers being tied to branches of trees and shot by foreign soldiers, with letterpress telling the people that this was the treatment meted out by the British to the Chinese soldiers at Pienma; Russian soldiers driving Jews into the sea at the point of the bayonet; the picture of an Englishman separating husband and wife with a flaring explanation that this was how the British treated the people of India, and so on _ad libitum_. This spirit came gradually. At the start of the rebellion the people probably thought that to shield the foreigner would save their reputation in their barbarous conduct throughout the province, but when they came to see plainly enough that the Imperial hand was stronger than they had deemed it to be, they turned their attention to what might have proved a very dangerous spirit of anti-foreignism--but the foreigners cleared out of the province luckily before any massacring was generally spoken of. At the time I am writing it is not known whether the property of foreigners was allowed to remain untouched or not.

After the outbreak at Wuchang things in Szechuen took a decided turn for the worst. Outlawry became rife everywhere. Slaughter on a gigantic scale was carried on; Chengtu, the capital, was besieged for several weeks; foreigners were ordered out of the province and only with great difficulty in many cases were able to get away; Chao Erh Fang (the Viceroy) was killed; from end to end of the province nothing but anarchy and lawlessness prevailed. When the trouble was at its height Tuan Fang was ordered to Szechuen to quell the rebellion. He went, but, good man that he was, never came back. When the killing of the Manchus was in progress, he was killed by his own men, and his head brought down to Wuchang.

At the time of writing the province of Szechuen is in such a condition of unrest and complete disorganisation that it is quite impossible to tell what will occur within {242} a year--that is, whether there is likely then to be any prospect of real peace. It is certain that for many months yet the missionaries will not be able to return to their stations, and it will probably take many years, even with the marvellous recuperative powers the Chinese possess, before the province regains its normal conditions. For Szechuen is different from many provinces in China. The difficulties are different. The people--the tribal element, particularly--is a thorn in the flesh of Chinese officialdom, and at the present juncture in this volume to ponder upon this element in the national life will be probably of interest. Indeed, to read aright the signs of the times in China were never harder than to-day.

The Revolution, with the hope of a Republic, or some wonderfully altered system of government, has changed the whole front that China has been making to the world, and no matter how one may view the turn of current events and the probable effect of all this change upon the national life and character of the Chinese, he is wise who tempers his enthusiastic study of the Revolution and the Reform movement with a just estimate of the possibilities of the menaces that face Dr. Sun Yat Sen and his Republican party or Yuan Shin K'ai and his Monarchical party, in pursuing their respective policies. Some of the menaces come from without. Most, however, come from within, and at the present time, to those who know their China best, it is abundantly clear that the New China's greatest hope is in fleeing from herself.

This Revolution has seemed to bring into being a China that shall be utterly different from any other China that has gone before. It is in very truth a New China, and no one who, with a mildly understanding heart, watches China to-day can fail to see in all parts of the Empire that are known to civilisation much which forms a good augury in the Revolution, the genuineness of a common impulse, an impulse linked {243} with a dogged persistence of effort to get out of the shallows of the past into the depths of the future--a glimpse beyond the garden and cloister of Chinese antiquity into the wonderful golden age, if the Revolutionary party is blessed.

But this Young China party will be bound to pass through a great home and foreign political crisis, the eccentricities of whose national programme may, if the Republican party be guided skilfully, change the Old China into a powerful participator in the affairs of the world. It must now be granted by all the world that the Reform spirit in China is peculiarly the most real thing in China, and China herself--by virtue of the Revolution--the most striking feature of the world's politics to-day. But what is the sum of it all? There are many aspects. Enjoying all the advantages which have come naturally to her, China, we must remember, is as old as all history. One sees the legend of age repeated again and again in the hard enduring things of time, and equally as much in the great conflict that had China in its grip for many months. Every symbol of the common life, every action of the common people, everything in the land points with powerful significance to fundamental enduring things. China, during the past few years, has been furnishing us with most things that she has dabbled in--the Revolution itself is one of the most striking products, with evidence that she will rise to the position that such a race should. We are able vividly to trace, amid the seeming unalterable commonalities of life, the story of a great overpowering reform. In many areas this reform reaches from the minutest details of the ordinary life to the topmost rung of the political and social ladder; in other parts, through which I have travelled during the last two years, the general trend of the people's lives will not allow one to believe for a single moment that China's chance, even through revolution, will ever come.

But, generally speaking, one has to admit that at {244} one appalling stroke this mediæval people have come to mingle in the stream of world politics, behind which they have been lagging for centuries. In the whirl of her present revolutionary excitement, in the rush of the commercial torrent which will sweep through the land, the force of which probably will eclipse even Japan's early activities in the world's trade, we see a light on the surface of the national life of this strange people heralding the dawn of a greater day. Even we who live in China are lost in wonderment; those at a distance find it impossible to form a just estimate of its value. And so vast is the Empire, and so numerous the people, so great still the incongruities and absurdities in everyday life in most parts, that we who spend our lives side by side with the Chinese find difficulty in condensing concrete opinion on any given subject. The one thing that is keeping China back is the Dragon. We foreigners fail efficiently to understand China because we do not understand the Dragon. In China the Dragon has presided for centuries. Wrapped intertwiningly into the private and the national life of the Chinese, this Dragon has reigned supreme over a make-believe, a show of things, and innate insincerity and hollowness unparalleled anywhere among civilised peoples. The Chinese has, because of the Dragon, cramped himself into strange shapes all down through history, and the world has not known what to do with him, so foreign has been his aspect. But now the Revolution tells us that China and hundreds of millions of her people have changed irretrievably--so much must be taken for granted. The change would probably be quicker and better were it not for the Dragon, whose fangs, deeply indented into the national life, render it one great counterpoise to the young Revolutionary party. Another counterpoise to that reform which the New China party would institute at once is the lamentable fact that in a very large proportion of the Empire's area, in isolated parts far removed from {245} spheres more easily affected by the Reform movement, there exists not a single evidence that China is not still in the torpor of the ages. Here we find a disorganised condition of society, and see how many forces work blindly in a wasteful and degenerate manner. I do not say that nothing had changed before the Revolution, for certain phases of reform one could not get away from in even the remotest corners of China. But if we discount the military and opium and a certain kind of popular education, we found little indeed commensurate with the hue and cry of the reform supposed to have been taking place to induce those who do not know that the whole Empire was in a desperate state of eagerness to forge ahead to believe that the Young China had annihilated the Old China.

And in the times through which we have just passed, it is pardonable for foreigners, except those who have made the real study of China a serious matter, to believe that China is getting more and more to love the foreigner. I believe that she is--but the love comes slowly, slowly indeed.

My personal opinion is that to-day, not perhaps less than in 1900, there are many places in China where the unveneered feeling of the Chinese towards the foreigner has not changed. But with that, at present, I can have nothing to do, and I trust that this Revolution will not unfold to us further stories--such as had to be told in Sianfu in Shensi last winter--that will make sad reading. China has gained, and is still fast gaining, strength in naval and military strategy, knowledge in education, in art, in science, in commerce, in all that she has set her heart upon from outside. But by the policy of conservatism, that "China for the Chinese" policy, a great majority of her _literati_ are weakening her from the inside--and to such an extent that she may yet have to eat humble bread. For as the disturbances in Szechuen have so forcefully proved to the world, China has not by any means succeeded in {246} putting her own house in order, and the Revolution has given us another overwhelming truth.

If the reader will turn to a map of China, he will find that perhaps one-third, certainly one-fourth, of the areas of the provinces of Western China, and much territory farther north, are marked "unsurveyed," occupied for the most part by unconquered and independent and semi-independent tribes of people. And herein lies the danger zone of what I would characterise as the greatest of China's hidden menaces. Sun Yat Sen's greatest enemy, Yuan Shih K'ai's greatest enemy--or "the greatest enemies" of any particular faction of the Government which will become paramount--the peculiarities of which are not known to a dozen men, it is a menace which China herself knows little of. I am fully aware that my contention will open up entirely new ground. The question of the possibility of the Chinese Government having been given such trouble as she underwent in Szechuen by the aboriginals of interior provinces has never been broached, so far as my memory serves me, in any of the literature dealing with China's reform during the last decade. I am aware that I shall spring upon the ordinary student of China's affairs a problem he may wriggle out of by stigmatising as unimportant, for the world's manner of dealing with China is with those things seen on the political surface only. Indeed, this is the greatest error in literature upon China. But I am not speaking without first-hand knowledge. After having travelled some seven thousand miles in China, in parts often where no other foreigner has ever entered, and having lived for several months out in the wilds where none other than the missionary could have contact--so that none but the missionary would be able to write about it, which is very rarely done--it may be granted that an opinion in some definite form is at least justifiable. My purpose was to make the subject a special study. In most of the country where these {247} tribes people, ordinary foreign travellers are not allowed to enter. Officials at the _fus_ or the _hsiens_ where escorts are supplied, refuse to allow you to start if you are foolish enough to let them know that you intend starting. But it is only by actually travelling in these areas that an accurate impression of existing conditions can be gathered. Because a man has travelled from end to end of China by the main road does not justify him in giving an opinion on the subject; quite easy it is to travel along the main roads anywhere, but here one sees comparatively little of the tribal element. Some may speak of the patriotism which has grown in China of late years, and ask if it is possible for any such menace to continue while this spirit of patriotism thrives. I admit that a peculiar patriotism has certainly sprung up among the people of China, but in the places I have in mind, in the wind-swept savage country of China Far West, patriotism is not known. Those who have been watching the trouble in Szechuen, started long before the Revolution broke out, have been able to see what sort of patriotism has existed. It is merely a common spirit of hooliganism among the common multitudes, and a spirit of alarming omnipotence among the scholars--little less, little more. This exists among the Chinese in these regions, but I speak here more particularly of the tribal races, among whom this hatred towards the Government is infinitely more bitter. These aboriginal races, or most of them, were, almost without exception, at one time in the occupation of vast kingdoms, and their first idea is that the Chinese Government has been built up by a succession of excessively wicked and unscrupulous men, great commandment breakers, a peculiarly dangerous type of mankind to which it is unfortunate to belong. They know nothing about revolutions or reforms. They have it in strong for the Chinese, and are boiling over with a spirit of revenge. It is with these people that China will have to deal during the {248} next decade. If China were to be engaged in an altercation with any other Power, this tribal danger would be formidable; if all becomes peaceful, when the Revolution shall have passed onward, the task of putting all men and things in China underfoot of the Government will not be accomplished without effort.

As things stand at present, there looms before China a problem that will not find solution in being continually shelved. In conquering the tribes in her own country, China faces a danger more momentous than she knows of and greater than the Western world ever dreamed of.

It would be too long a story here to detail the tribes and the peculiarities of each family--suffice it to say that every tribe in western China (and their number may be judged from the fact that no less than twenty are found in Yunnan alone), hate the Chinese and the Manchus. In the event of any disturbances arising from the Tibetan border, the Burma border, the Tonking border, the Mongolian border, this involved problem of her tribespeople and how to deal with them would so upset China's calculations that she might lose territory in China Far West, and history might have to record another rebellion as terrible, perhaps, as the Mohammedan rebellion in Yunnan of 1855 and onwards. Yunnan might then go to France, Tibet to Britain, Mongolia to Russia. This would be the zenith of complications, but it is of this that China has always been afraid, and she will always have cause for fear so long as this question is ignored. At the present moment, when most of the outlying dependencies are declaring their independence, these fears have a greater significance. The non-ability of the officials to grip the situation in these outlying corners of the Chinese Empire, and to have that local knowledge of affairs which will come only with local experience, is where China would feel the pinch in a stand-up combat with unconquered races within her own dominions. This feeling of strife has been growing for years, long before {249} China had an adventurous policy in Tibet, but however expert China may have been in duping Europe as to her intentions in Tibet, and maintaining tranquillity in that country, it is certain that Peking did not, or would not, recognise the presence of the evil in China Far West, to say nothing of Tibet for the moment, of many thousands of her nominally governed races being in a state of lawlessness and social savagery. Complications in Tibet are liable, as they have been for many years, to arise at any time, equally as they are in Kansu, Sinking, Szechuen, or Yunnan--we have seen them, of course, in Szechuen. For serious complications in any of these provinces China has always been ill-prepared. It has been extremely doubtful whether her troops would remain loyal, even after she had got them at the seat of action after a tortuous march over incomprehensibly difficult country. There are no railways in Western China to speak of--there are absolutely none in the areas we have under survey in this article--and the only West China railway from Tonking into the heart of the Yunnan province would offer no advantages.

The main trunk lines of China, such as they are, run through country removed by many days of arduous walking over land from the districts likely to be first affected. Suppose, for a moment, that China had decided to repel the British at Pienma, or that a civil war were to break out in Yunnan (and neither of these is so unlikely when one knows the aggressive Yunnanese spirit), the probability is that, were military assistance necessary, the armies of Szechuen or Hunan would be mobilised. But to the provincial capital of Yunnan no less then thirty-three days would be required from Chengtu (Szechuen's capital), and to reach Yunnan-fu from Changshu (Hunan's capital) at least fifty days. The entire distance in either case would have to be negotiated on foot and by native boat, and over country ranging from sea level to say 12,000 feet above, and if complications with any other Power had arisen in {250} China Far West, with Szechuen in her fearful ferment one may guess at the sequel.

Generally speaking, the problem of China Far West with the tribes is akin to that now holding the attention of the world between China and Tibet. We all know how, if the Nepaulese had thrown in their lot with the Dalai Lama there would have been an abrupt interruption to China's Imperialistic policy there. With China's awakening in Tibet and the dispatch of troops to reside there to maintain Chinese supremacy, we have seen how Great Britain rightly sends her troops a little farther on the Indian frontier, showing that she intends to maintain her own _status quo_. China has Britain to watch there. And we seem to see in China's activity in Tibet a menace to the peace of the neighbouring States between Tibet and India. As Britain watches China from the Indian side, France, as we have said, watches China on the Yunnan southern border. It should be remembered that the dream of the French in the days of their irresistible impulse for colonial expansion in the Far West was to annex Yunnan to Indo-China, and, however many her mistakes, her faith has survived her disappointment. Abandoning her dream of territory, she is now going hard and fast for the trade, and has many thousands of troops to guard her interests on the Tonking border now that she has her own railway. All through Yunnan a strong feeling exists among the Chinese against the French--the French are not liked, and have been the bone of contention for many years. Taking these facts into consideration, one is inclined to doubt whether China is really the Power to introduce that government into Tibet which will keep the country free from internal strife. So far, it must be admitted, she has done well, but so many dangers will face her after the Revolution that it seems a most difficult political task. Trouble seems inevitable if the reforming hand is laid too heavily upon the Tibetans.

{251}

Added to this is the tribal danger. It may not be generally known that many of the tribes of this great ethnological garden, stretching from Burma right away to the north of the Chinese Empire and south as far as Tonking and Kwangtung, are of Tibeto-Burman origin. The Hsi-fan group, the Nou-su group (this is my own theory, for several other theories are known, and the Nou-su group is placed broadly under the Lolo, itself a term of opprobrium), and many other tribes of these great families. It is safe to say, broadly, that all these tribes are allied racially or religiously. It is well known that in all stages of their civilisation not one tribe has a good word to say for the Chinese, and in the western provinces these tribes peoples predominate probably seven in ten. One cannot pose as a political prophet. China's Revolution has shown the world that prophecy in political possibilities in China is charged with an extraordinary element of chance, and one may certainly declare that it is not in the power of any one to say that these non-Chinese peoples could not be won over to the British. My personal opinion is that it could be easily done.

And one is able to imagine that in the revolution of politics in Eastern Asia which this great Revolution will inevitably bring about, and it were found necessary for China's regular army to proceed _en bloc_ to the east of the Empire, the tribes of the west would be able to create a situation, by civil war and open rebellion against the Government, of so serious a nature that years would intervene before China could completely conquer the people and gain their moral support.

This New China Government--Republican or Monarchical, or both, as may be--has to find out for herself her own weak points. No thoughtful man who has been through these wild regions can doubt that the tribal danger is one of China's greatest weaknesses, greater as one understands it more, confronting the new {252} Government with a problem greater than the Manchu Government was prepared to recognise.

In a review of the Szechuen Revolt, the author feels that he has wandered considerably in his chronicle. But the information contained in what has just been written has a most vital bearing upon the maintenance of peace in Western China.[1]

[1] In 1898 Tuan Fang was a Secretary of the Board of Works; his rapid promotion after that date was chiefly due to the patronage of his friend Jung Lu. For a Manchu, he is remarkably progressive and liberal in his views.

In 1900 he was Acting-Governor of Shensi. As the Boxer movement spread and increased in violence, and as the fears of Jung Lu led him to take an increasingly decided line of action against them, Tuan Fang, acting upon his advice, followed suit. In spite of the fact that at the time of the _coup d'état_ he had adroitly saved himself from clear identification with the Reformers and had penned a classical composition in praise of filial piety, which was commonly regarded as a veiled reproof to the Emperor for not yielding implicit obedience to the Old Buddha, he had never enjoyed any special marks of favour at the latter's hands, nor been received into that confidential friendliness with which she frequently honoured her favourites.

In his private life, as in his administration, Tuan Fang has always recognised the changing conditions of his country and endeavoured to adapt himself to the needs of the time; he was one of the first among the Manchus to send his sons abroad for their education. His sympathies were at first unmistakably with K'ang Yu-wei and his fellow-Reformers, but he withdrew from them because of the anti-dynastic nature of their movement, of which he naturally disapproved.

As Acting-Governor of Shensi, in July, 1900, he clearly realised the serious nature of the situation and the dangers that must arise from the success of the Boxer movement, and he therefore issued two proclamations to the province, in which he earnestly warned the people to abstain from acts of violence. These documents were undoubtedly the means of saving the lives of many missionaries and other foreigners isolated in the interior. In the first a curious passage occurs, wherein after denouncing the Boxers, he said:--

"The creed of the Boxers is no new thing: in the reign of Chia-Ch'ing followers of the same cult were beheaded in droves. But the present-day Boxer has taken the field ostensibly for the defence of his country against the foreigner, so that we need not refer to the past. While accepting their good intentions, I would merely ask, Is it reasonable for us to credit these men with supernatural powers of {253} invulnerability? Are we to believe that all the corpses which now strew the country between Peking and the sea are those of spurious Boxers and that the survivors alone represent the true faith?"

After prophesying for them the same fate which overtook the Mohammedan rebels and those of the Taiping insurrection, he delivered himself of advice to the people which, while calculated to prevent the slaughter of foreigners, would preserve his reputation for patriotism. It is well, now that Tuan Fang has fallen upon evil days, to remember the good work he did in a very difficult position. His proclamation ran as follows:--

"I have never for a moment doubted that you men of Shensi are brave and patriotic and that, should occasion offer, you would fight nobly for your country. I know that if you join these Boxers it would be from patriotic motives. I would have you observe, however, that our enemies are the foreign troops who have invaded the metropolitan province, and not the foreign missionaries who reside in the interior. If the Throne orders you to take up arms in the defence of your country, then I, as Governor of this province, will surely share in that glory. But if, on your own account you set forth to slay a handful of harmless and defenceless missionaries, you will undoubtedly be actuated by the desire for plunder, there will be nothing noble in your deed and your neighbours will despise you as surely as the law will punish you.

"At this very moment our troops are pouring in upon the capital from every province in the Empire. Heaven's avenging sword is pointed against the invader. This being so, it is absurd to suppose that there can be any need for such services as you people could render at such a time. Your obvious and simple duty is to remain quietly in your homes pursuing your usual avocations. It is the business of the official to protect the people, and you may rely upon me to do so. As to that Edict of Their Majesties, which last year ordered the organisation of trained bands, the idea was merely to encourage self-defence for local purposes, on the principle laid down by Mencius, watch and ward being kept by each district."

A little later the Governor referred to that decree of the Empress-Dowager (her first attempt at hedging), which began by quoting the "Spring and Autumn Classic," in reference to the sacred nature of foreign envoys, and used it as a text for emphasising the fact that the members of the several missionary societies in Shensi had always been on the best of terms with the people. He referred to the further fact that many refugees from the famine-stricken districts of Shansi and numbers of disbanded soldiers had crossed the borders of the province, and fearing lest these lawless folk should organise an attack upon the foreigners, he once more urged his people to permit no violation of the sacred laws of hospitality. The province had already commenced to {254} feel the effects of the long drought which had caused such suffering in Shansi, and the superstitious lower classes were disposed to attribute this calamity to the wrath of Heaven, brought upon them by reason of their failure to join the Boxers. Tuan Fang proceeded to disabuse their minds of this idea.

"If the rain has not fallen upon your barren fields," he said, "if the demon of drought threatens to harass you, be sure that it is because you have gone astray, led by false rumours and have committed deeds of violence. Repent now and return to your peaceful ways, and the rains will assuredly fall. Behold the ruin which has come upon the provinces of Chihli and Shantung; it is to save you from their fate that I now warn you. Are we not all alike, subjects of the great Manchu Dynasty, and shall we not acquit ourselves like men in the service of the State? If there were any chance of this province being invaded by the enemy, you would naturally sacrifice your lives and property to repel them as a matter of simple patriotism. But if in a sudden excess of madness, you set forth to butcher a few helpless foreigners you will in no wise benefit the Empire, but will be merely raising fresh difficulties for the Throne. For the time being, your own conscience will accuse you of ignoble deeds, and later you will surely pay the penalty with your lives and the ruin of your families. Surely, you men of Shensi, enlightened and high-principled, will not fall so low as this. There are, I know, among you some evil men who, professing patriotic enmity to foreigners and Christians wax fat on foreign plunder. But the few missionary chapels in this province offer but meagre booty and it is safe to predict that those who begin by sacking them will certainly proceed next to loot the houses of your wealthier citizens, from the burning of foreigners' homes the conflagration will spread to your own, and many innocent persons will share the fate of the slaughtered Christians. The plunderers will escape with their booty, and the foolish onlookers will pay the penalty of these crimes. Is it not a well-known fact that every anti-Christian outbreak invariably brings misery to the stupid innocent people of the district concerned? Is not this a lamentable thing? As for me, I care neither for praise nor blame; my only object for preaching peace in Shensi is to save you, my people, from dire ruin and destruction."

Tuan fang was a member of the Mission to Foreign Countries in 1905, and has received decorations and honours at the hands of several European sovereigns. In private life he is distinguished by his complete absence of formality, a genial, hospitable man, given to good living, delighting in new mechanical inventions, and fond of his joke. It was he who, as Viceroy of Nanking, organised the International Exhibition. As Viceroy of Chihli, he was in charge of the arrangements for the funeral of the Empress-Dowager, and a week after that impressive ceremony, for alleged want of respect and decorum, it {255} was charged against him that he had permitted subordinate officials to take photographs of the cortège, and that he had even dared to use certain trees in the Sacred Enclosure of the Mausolea as telegraph poles, for which offences he was summarily cashiered; since then he has lived in retirement. The charges were possibly true, but it is matter of common knowledge that the real reason of his disgrace was a matter of palace politics rather than funeral etiquette, for he was a protégé of the Regent, and his removal was a triumph for the Yehonala clan at a time when its prestige called for a demonstration of some sort against the growing power and influence of the Emperor Kwang-Hsu's brothers.

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