With Yuan Shih-kai acknowledged as President by both the north and the
south, by Peking and Nanking alike, "The Great Republic of China," as
it is called by those who have been mainly instrumental in bringing it
into being, appears to have established itself, or at least it enters
upon the first definite stage of its existence. Thus opens a fresh
volume, of extraordinary interest as of incalculable importance, in the
history of the Far East.
Even in the days of the great and autocratic Dowager Empress, Tzu Hsi,
who had no love for "reform," but knew how to accept and adapt herself
to the situation, it was evident that a change, deeply influencing the
political life and destinies of China, was in process of development.
After her death, in 1908, the force and sweep of this momentous
movement were still more apparent--it took on the character of
something irresistible and inevitable; the only question was whether
the change would be accomplished by way of evolution--gradual, orderly,
and conservative--or by revolution, or a series of revolutions,
probably violent and sanguinary, and perhaps disastrous to the dynasty
and the country. The events of the last few months have supplied the
answer--at any rate, to a certain extent. A successful revolution has
taken place, in which, it is true, many thousands have been killed, but
which on the whole has not been attended by the slaughter and carnage
that might have been anticipated considering the vastness of the
country and the enormous interests involved. Actual warfare gave way to
negotiations conducted in a spirit of moderation and of give-and-take
on the part of all concerned. The Manchu dynasty has collapsed, though
the "Emperor" still remains as a quasi-sacred, priestly personage, and
the princes have been pensioned off. The Great Republic of China has
come into being, albeit it is in large measure inchoate and, as it
were, on trial. China has long been the land of rebellions and risings,
and it is hardly to be expected that the novel republican form of
government, however well constructed, intentioned, or conducted, will
escape altogether from internal attacks. And nearly everything has yet
to be done in organization.
General surprise has been expressed at the comparative ease and speed
with which the revolutionary movement has attained success in driving
the Manchus from power and in founding a republican _régime_. The
factor which chiefly contributed to this success was undoubtedly the
weakness of the Manchu dynasty and of the Imperial Clan, who, hated by
the Chinese and without sufficient resources of their own, were utterly
unable to offer any real resistance to the rebellious provinces of the
south, the loyalty of their troops being uncertain, and any spirit or
gift of leadership among themselves having disappeared with the passing
of the great Tzu Hsi in 1908. But it is a mistake to imagine that the
idea of a republican form of government in place of the centuries-old,
autocratic, semi-divine monarchy, was something that had never been
mooted before and was entirely unknown to the Chinese. To the great
majority, no doubt, it was, if known at all, something strange and
hardly intelligible, as it still is. But in the south, especially on
and near the coast, it has been familiar for some time; among the
possibilities of the future it was not unknown even to the "Throne."
Fourteen years ago, after the _coup d'état_ by which Tzu Hsi smashed
the reform movement that had been patronized by the Emperor Kuang Hsu,
the then Viceroy of Canton stated in a memorial to her that among some
treasonable papers found at the birthplace of Kang Yu-wei, the leading
reformer of the time, a document had been discovered which not only
spoke of substituting a republic for the monarchy, but actually named
as its first president one of the reformers she had caused to be
executed. It must be admitted, on the other hand, that the idea has
been imported into China comparatively recently; the Chinese language
contains no word for republic, but one has been coined by putting
together the words for self and government; it must be many years
before the masses of the Chinese--the "rubbish people," as Lo Feng-lu,
a former minister to England, used to call them--have any genuine
understanding of what a republic means.
The Manchus were in power for nearly two hundred and seventy years, and
during that period there were various risings, some of a formidable
character, against them and in favor of descendants of the native Ming
dynasty which they had displaced; powerful secret organizations, such
as the famous "Triad Society," plotted and conspired to put a Ming
prince on the throne; but all was vain. It had come to be generally
believed that the race of the Mings had died out, but a recent dispatch
from China speaks of there still being a representative in existence,
who possibly might give serious trouble to the new republic. In any
case, for a long time past the Mings had ceased to give the Manchus any
concern; the pressure upon the latter came from outside the empire, but
that in its turn reacted profoundly on the internal situation. The wars
with France and England had but a slight effect on China; though the
foreign devils beat it in war it yet despised them. The effect of the
war with Japan, in 1894, was something quite different, beginning the
real awakening of China and imparting life and vigor to the new reform
movement which had its origin in Canton, the great city of the south,
whose highly intelligent people have most quickly felt and most readily
and strongly responded to outside influences. Regarded by the Chinese
as at least partially civilized, the Japanese were placed in a higher
category than the Western barbarians, but as their triumph over China
was attributed to their adoption of Western military methods and
equipment, the more enlightened Chinese came to the conclusion that,
however contemptible the men of the Western world were, the main secret
of their success, as of that of Japan, was open enough. They decided
that Western learning and modes of government and organization must be
studied and copied, as Japan had studied and copied them, if the
Celestial Empire was to endure. It was a case on the largest scale of
self-preservation, and some part, at least, of the truth was glimpsed
by the Throne itself.
Something, but not much, was heard of a republic while Tzu Hsi lived;
before her death the principle of a constitution, with a national
parliament and provincial assemblies, had been accepted by the
Throne--with reservations limiting the spheres of these representative
bodies, retaining the supreme power in the Throne, and in the case of
the national parliament delaying its coming into existence for a term
of years.
By Tzu Hsi's commands, the Throne passed at her death into the hands of
a sort of commission; a child of two years of age, a nephew of Kuang
Hsu, called Pu Yi, became Emperor under the dynastic name of Hsuan
Tung; his father, Prince Chun, was nominated Regent, but was ordered to
consult the new Dowager Empress, Lung Yu, the widow of Kuang Hsu, and
to be governed by her decisions in all important matters of State.
Prince Chun, amiable in disposition but weak and vacillating in
character, and not always on the best of terms with Lung Yu, began
well; one of his first acts was to assure President Taft, who had
written entreating him to expedite reforms as making for the true
interests of China, that he was determined to pursue that policy. Among
those who had suggested reforms to Tzu Hsi, often going far beyond her
wishes or plans, but who steadily supported her in all she did in that
direction, the leading man was Yuan Shih-kai; with the possible
exception of Chang Chih-tung, the Viceroy of Hunan and Hupeh, mentioned
above, Yuan Shih-kai had become the greatest man in China, and even as
he had advised and supported Tzu Hsi, so he advised and supported
Prince Chun at the commencement of the Regency. But the prince had
received an unfortunate legacy from his brother, the Emperor Kuang Hsu,
who, believing that Yuan Shih-kai had betrayed him to Tzu Hsi at the
time of the _coup d'état,_ had given instructions to Prince Chun that
if he came into power he was to punish Yuan for his treachery. At the
beginning of 1909 the Regent dismissed Yuan on an apparently trivial
pretext, but every one in China knew the real reason for his fall, and
not a few wondered that his life had been spared. It is idle to surmise
what might have happened if his services had been retained by the
Throne all the time, but who could have imagined that so swift and
almost incredible an instance of time's revenges was in store--that
within barely three years Yuan Shih-kai would be the acknowledged head
of the State, and Prince Chun and all the Manchus in the dust?
Representative government of a kind started in 1909 with the
establishment of provincial assemblies; elections were held, and
assemblies met in most of the provinces. In the following year a senate
or imperial assembly was decreed by an imperial edict; its first
session was held in Peking in October of that year, and was opened by
the Regent; one of the first things the assembly did was to memorialize
the Throne for the rapid hastening on of reforms, and in response an
edict was issued announcing the formation of a national parliament,
consisting of an Upper and a Lower House, within three years. Under
further pressure the Throne in May of 1911 abolished the Grand Council
and the Grand Secretariat, and created a Cabinet of Ministers, after
the Western model. But the agitation continued and went on growing in
intensity; still it sought nothing apparently but a development of the
constitution, and at least on the surface was neither anti-dynastic nor
republican.
An anti-dynastic outburst at Changsha, Hunan, in 1910, was easily
suppressed, and certainly gave no indication of what was so soon to
take place. So late as September of 1911 a rising on a considerable
scale in the province of Szechuan was not antidynastic, but was
declared by the rebels themselves to be directed against the railway
policy of the Government. The best hope for China lies in a wide
building of railways; the Chinese do not object to them, but, on the
contrary, make use of them to the fullest extent where they are in
existence; they do not wish, however, the lines to be constructed with
foreign money, holding that such investments of capital from without
might be regarded as setting up liens on their lands in favor of
outside Powers--how far they can do without outside capital is another
matter. Then the whole question of railway-building involved the old
quarrel between the provinces and the central government--which is
another way of saying that the provinces did not see why all the spoils
should go to Peking.
A month after the rebellion in Szechuan had broken out, the great
revolution began, and met with the most astonishing success from the
very outset. Within a few weeks practically the whole of southern China
was in the hands of the revolutionaries, and the Throne in hot panic
summoned Yuan Shih-kai from his retirement to its assistance; after
some hesitation and delay he came--but too late to save the dynasty and
the Manchus, though there is no shadow of doubt that he did his best
and tried his utmost to save them. With Wuchang, Hankau, and
Hanyang--the three form the metropolis, as it may be termed, of
mid-China--in the possession of the revolutionaries, and other great
centers overtly disaffected or disloyal, the Regent opened the session
of the national assembly, and it forthwith proceeded to assert itself
and make imperious demands with which the Throne was compelled to
comply--this was within a fortnight after the attack on Wuchang that
had begun the revolution. On November 1st the Throne appointed Yuan
Shih-kai Prime Minister, and a week later the national assembly
confirmed him in the office; he arrived in Peking on the thirteenth of
the month, was received in semi-regal state, and immediately instituted
such measures as were possible for the security of the dynasty and the
pacification of the country. But ten days before he reached Peking the
Throne had been forced to issue an edict assenting to the principles
which the national assembly had set forth in nineteen articles as
forming the basis of the Constitution; these articles, while preserving
the dynasty and keeping sacrosanct the person of the Emperor, made the
monarchy subject to the Constitution and the Government to Parliament,
with a responsible Cabinet presided over by a Prime Minister, and gave
Parliament full control of the budget.
Here, then, was the triumph of the constitutional cause, and Yuan
Shih-kai and most of the moderate progressive Chinese would have been
well satisfied with it if it had contented the revolutionaries of the
south. But from the beginning the southerners had made it plain that
they were determined to bring about the abdication of the dynasty, the
complete overthrow of the Manchus, and the establishment of a
republican form of government, nor would they lay down their arms on
any other terms. In a short time Yuan Shih-kai saw that the
revolutionaries were powerful enough to compel consideration and at
least partial acquiescence in their demands. It can not be thought
surprising that the proposed elimination of the hated Manchus from the
Government was popular, yet it must seem remarkable that the
revolutionary movement was so definitely republican in its aims, and as
such achieved so much success. There had been little open agitation in
favor of a republic, but the ground had been prepared for it to a
certain extent by a secret propaganda. The foreign-drilled troops of
the army were disaffected in many cases and were approached with some
result; the eager spirits of the party in the south, where practically
the whole strength of the movement lay, formed an alliance with certain
of the officers of these troops. No sooner was the revolution begun
than a military leader appeared in the person of Li Yuan-hung, a
brigadier-general, who had commanded a considerable body of these
foreign-drilled soldiers, and was supported by large numbers of such
men in the fighting in and around Wuchang-Hankau. That the
revolutionaries, who were chiefly of the student class, and not of the
"solid" people of the country, were able to enlist the active
cooperation of these officers and their troops accounts for the quick
and astonishing success of the movement. And at the outset, whatever is
the case now, many of the solid people--magistrates, gentry, and
substantial merchants--also indorsed it.
Toward the end of November the revolutionaries captured Nanking, a
decisive blow to the imperialists, and this former capital of China
became the headquarters of a Provisional Republican Government. Soon
afterward, through the good offices of Great Britain, a truce was
arranged between the north and the south. Yuan Shih-kai was striving
with all his might to retain the dynasty as a limited monarchy, but
"coming events cast their shadows before" in the resignation of the
Regent early in December. Negotiations went on between Yuan, who was
represented at a conference held in Shanghai by Tang Shao-yi, an able
and patriotic man and a protégé of his own, and the revolutionaries,
but the leaders of the latter made it clear that there could be no
peaceful solution of the situation short of the abdication of the
dynasty and the institution of some form of republic. At the end of
December Dr. Sun Yat-sen, whose striking and romantic story is well
known, was appointed Provisional President by Nanking; in January he
published a manifesto to the people of China, bitterly attacking the
dynasty, promising that the republic would recognize treaty
obligations, the foreign loans and concessions, and declaring that it
aimed at the general improvement of the country, the remodeling of the
laws, and the cultivation of better relations with the Powers.
Meanwhile, the Dowager Empress and the Manchu princes had discussed the
position of affairs with Yuan Shih-kai, and the question of the
abdication of the dynasty was under consideration, but though the
situation was desperate there were some counsels of resistance. What
finally made opposition impossible was the presentation to the Throne
in the last days of January of a memorial, signed by the generals of
the northern army, requesting it to abandon any idea of maintaining
itself by force. This settled the matter. No other course being
practicable, terms were agreed to between Peking and Nanking, and on
February 12th imperial edicts, commencing for the last time with the
customary formula, were issued from the capital giving Yuan Shih-kai
plenary powers to establish a Provisional Republican Government, and to
confer with the Provisional Republican Government at Nanking, approving
of the arrangements which had been made for the Emperor and the
imperial family, and exhorting the people to remain tranquil under the
new régime. These edicts will remain among the most remarkable things
in history, and it can not be said that the passing of the Manchus was
attended by any want of that ceremonious calmness and dignity for which
China is famed. Two or three days later Sun Yat-sen in a disinterested
spirit resigned, and Yuan Shih-kai was unanimously elected President by
the Nanking Assembly; Yuan accepted the office, and thus north and
south were united in "The Great Republic of China." At the end of March
progress in the settlement of affairs was seen in the formation of a
Coalition Cabinet, comprising Ministers of both the Peking and the
Nanking Governments, those selected being men with a considerable
knowledge of Western life and thought, as, for instance, Lu
Cheng-hsiang, the Foreign Minister, who has lived many years in Europe
and speaks French as well as English. A further advance took place on
April 2d, when the Nanking Assembly agreed by a large majority to
transfer the Provisional Government to Peking, which thus resumed its
position as the capital of the country and the center of its
Administration.
Among the causes which contributed to the success of the revolution
were the inability of the north to obtain loans from outside, and the
pressure, both direct and indirect, exerted upon both parties by
foreign Powers. Both of these causes were important, the latter
especially so. The action of Russia with respect to Mongolia, and of
Japan with regard to Manchuria, alarmed patriotic Chinese, led them to
fear that foreign interference might not be confined to these
territories, and to dread that the result would be the disintegration
of the country. Under the Manchus they had seen the loss of Korea, the
Liaotung, Formosa, and, in a sense, of Manchuria itself; they were
apprehensive of German designs in Shantung, of Japanese in Fuhkien. The
feeling that the country was in danger helped both sides to be of one
mind. But the pressure from the outside was not all of this sinister
sort; friendly representations from the genuinely well-disposed Powers
did a good deal to bring the combatants to a mutual understanding. But
throughout the revolution, as in the final result, the great
outstanding, commanding figure was Yuan Shih-kai himself. Evidently a
man of great gifts, he knew how and when to yield and how and when to
be firm; the compromise which solved the situation--at all events, for
the time--was mostly his work; statesman and patriot, he saved his
country. And it will always redound to his credit that he can not be
charged with faithlessness to the Manchus, for he did all that was
possible for them, standing by them to the last. By retaining the
"Emperor" as the priestly head of the nation, _pater patriae_,
according to Chinese ideas, he has left something to the Manchus and at
the same time contrived that the republican form of government shall
bring as slight a shock to "immemorial China" as can be imagined.
What does this "immemorial China"--meaning thereby the great bulk of
the Chinese, the un-Westernized Chinese--think of the republic? In
other words, is the republic likely to last? What sort of republic will
it probably be, viewing the situation as it stands? At one of the early
stages of the revolution Yuan Shih-kai stated that only three-tenths of
his countrymen were in favor of a republic--in itself, however, a
considerable proportion of the population; now that the republic is in
existence, will it be accepted tranquilly by the rest? The majority of
these people are the inoffensive and industrious peasants of the
interior, who have long been accustomed to bad government; as they will
scarcely find their lot harder now, they will probably quietly accept
the new order, unless some radical change is made affecting their
habits of life, which is unlikely. Some of the old conservative gentry
are opposed to the republic; but, now the Manchu dynasty is gone, whom
or what can they suggest in its place that would be received favorably
by the country? The descendant of the Mings? Or the descendant of
Confucius?
Neither seems a likely candidate in present circumstances. For it may
very well be the case that as the revolution has been so largely
military, and parts of the army need careful handling, as the recent
riots in Peking showed, the Republican Government will assume something
of a distinctively military character, and Yuan Shih-kai, as its head,
be in a position not very different from that of a military
dictator--as Diaz was in Mexico. The republic will, of course, have its
troubles, and serious ones enough, to face, but the balance of
probabilities certainly suggests its lasting awhile.