Like political upheavals in other ages and other lands, the Chinese
revolution has been the outcome of the hopes and dreams of impetuous
and indomitable youth. Herein lies one of its main sources of strength,
but herein also lies a very grave danger. Young China to-day looks to
Europe and to America for sympathy. Let her have it in full measure.
Only let us remind her that the work she has so boldly, and perhaps
light-heartedly, undertaken is not only the affair of China, not only
the affair of Asia, but that the whole world stands to gain or lose
according as the Chinese people prove themselves worthy or unworthy to
carry out the stupendous task to which they have set their hands.
The grave peril lies, of course, in the tendency of the Chinese
"Progressives"--as of all hot-headed reformers, whether in China or in
England--to break with the traditions of past ages, and to despise what
is old, not because it is bad, but because it is out of harmony with
the latest political shibboleth. Those of us who believe in the
fundamental soundness of the character of the Chinese people, and are
aware of the high dignity and value of a large part of their inherited
civilization and culture, are awaiting with deep anxiety an answer to
this question: Is the New China about to cast herself adrift from the
Old?
But surely, many a Western observer may exclaim, the matter is settled
already! Surely the abolition of the monarchy is in itself a proof that
the Chinese have definitely broken with tradition! Was not the Emperor
a sacred being who represented an unbroken political continuity of
thousands of years, and who ruled by divine right? Was not loyalty to
the sovereign part of the Chinese religion?
These questions can not be answered with a simple yes or no. Reverence
for tradition has always been a prominent Chinese characteristic in
respect of both ethics and politics. We must beware of assuming too
hastily that the exhortations of a few frock-coated revolutionaries
have been sufficient to expel this reverence for tradition from Chinese
hearts and minds; yet we are obliged to admit that the national
aspirations are being directed toward a new set of ideals which in some
respects are scarcely consistent with the ideals aimed at (if rarely
attained) in the past.
The Chinese doctrine of loyalty can not be properly understood until we
have formed a clear conception of the traditional Chinese theory
concerning the nature of Political Sovereignty. The political edifice,
no less than the social, is built on the Confucian and pre-Confucian
foundation of filial piety. The Emperor is father of his people; the
whole population of the empire forms one vast family, of which the
Emperor is the head. As a son owes obedience and reverence to his
parent, so does the subject owe reverence and obedience to his
sovereign.
In the four thousand years and more that have elapsed since the days of
Yü, over a score of dynasties have in their turn reigned over China.
The _Shu Ching_--the Chinese historical classic--gives us full accounts
of the events which led to the fall of the successive dynasties of Hsia
(1766 B.C.) and Shang (1122 B.C.). In both cases we find that the
leader of the successful rebellion lays stress on the fact that the
_T'ien-ming_ (Divine right) has been forfeited by the dynasty of the
defeated Emperor, and that he, the successful rebel, has been but an
instrument in the hands of God. Thus the rebel becomes Emperor by right
of the Divine Decree, and it remains with his descendants until by
their misdeeds they provoke heaven into bestowing it upon another
house.
The teachings of the sages of China are in full accordance with the
view that the sovereign must rule well or not at all. Confucius
(551-479 B.C.) spent the greater part of his life in trying to instruct
negligent princes in the art of government, and we know from a
well-known anecdote that he regarded a bad government as "worse than a
tiger." We are told that when one of his disciples asked Confucius for
a definition of good statecraft, he replied that a wise ruler is one
who provides his subjects with the means of subsistence, protects the
state against its enemies, and strives to deserve the confidence of all
his people. And the most important of these three aims, said Confucius,
is the last: for without the confidence of the people no government can
be maintained. If the prince's commands are just and good, let the
people obey them, said Confucius, in reply to a question put by a
reigning duke; but if subjects render slavish obedience to the unjust
commands of a bad ruler, it is not the ruler only, but his sycophantic
subjects themselves, who will be answerable for the consequent ruin of
the state. So far from counseling perpetual docility on the part of the
governed, Confucius clearly indicates that circumstances may arise
which make opposition justifiable. The minister, he says, should not
fawn upon the ruler of whose actions he disapproves: let him show his
disapproval openly.
Mencius, the "Second Sage" of China (372-289 B.C.), is far more
outspoken than Confucius in his denunciation of bad rulers. There was
no sycophancy in the words which he uttered during an interview with
King Hsuan of the State of Ch'i. "When the prince treats his ministers
with respect, as though they were his own hands and feet, they in their
turn look up to him as the source from which they derive nourishment;
when he treats them like his dogs and horses, they regard him as no
more worthy of reverence than one of their fellow subjects; when he
treats them as though they were dirt to be trodden on, they retaliate
by regarding him as a robber and a foe." It is interesting to learn
that this passage in Mencius so irritated the first sovereign of the
Ming dynasty (1368-1398 A.D.) that he caused the "spirit-tablet" of the
sage to be removed from the Confucian Temple, to which it had been
elevated about three centuries earlier; but the remonstrances of the
scholars of the empire soon compelled the Emperor to revoke his decree,
and the tablet of Mencius was restored to its place of honor, from
which it was never subsequently degraded. It is no matter for surprize
that the people have reverenced the "Second Sage," for he it was who
has come nearest in China to the enunciation of the somewhat doubtful
principle, _Vox populi vox Dei_.
It was unmistakably the view of Mencius that a bad ruler may be put to
death by the subjects whom he has misgoverned. King Hsuan was once
discussing with him the successful rebellions against the last
sovereigns of the Hsia and Shang dynasties, and, with reference to the
slaying of the infamous King Chou (1122 B.C.), asked whether it was
allowable for a minister to put his sovereign to death. Mencius, in his
reply, observed that the man who outrages every principle of virtue and
good conduct is rightly treated as a mere robber and villain. "I have
heard of the killing of a robber and a villain named Chou; I have not
heard about the killing of a king." That is to say, Chou by his
rascality had already forfeited all the rights and privileges of
kingship before he was actually put to death.
On another occasion Mencius was questioned about the duties of
ministers and royal relatives. "If the sovereign rules badly," he said,
"they should reprove him; if he persists again and again in
disregarding their advice, they should dethrone him." The prince for
whose edification the philosopher uttered these daring sentiments
looked grave. "I pray your Majesty not to take offense," said Mencius.
"You asked me for my candid opinion, and I have told you what it is."
Several other passages of similar purport might be cited from Mencius,
but two more will suffice. "Let us suppose," said the sage, "that a man
who is about to proceed on a long journey entrusts the care of his wife
and family to a friend. On his return he finds that the faithless
friend has allowed his wife and children to suffer from cold and
hunger. What should he do with such a friend?" "He should treat him
thenceforth as a stranger," replied King Hsuan. "And suppose,"
continued Mencius, "that your Majesty had a minister who was utterly
unable to control his subordinates: how would you deal with such a
one?" "I should dismiss him from my service," said the King. "And if
throughout all your realm there is no good government, what is to be
done then?" The embarrassed King, we are told, "looked this way and
that, and changed the subject."
The last of Mencius's teachings on kingship to which we shall refer is
perhaps the most remarkable of all. "The most important element in a
State," he says emphatically, "is the people; next come the altars of
the national gods; least in importance is the king."
These citations from the revered classics should be sufficient to prove
that the people of China are not necessarily cutting themselves adrift
from the traditions of ages and the teachings of their philosophers
when they rise in their might to overthrow an incompetent dynasty. For
it can not be denied that China has known little prosperity under the
later rulers of the Manchu line, and when the revolutionary leaders
declared that the reigning house had forfeited the _T'ien-ming_ we must
admit that they had ample justification for their belief that such was
the case. But many Western friends of China, while fully recognizing
the right of the people to remove the Manchus, entertain very grave
doubts as to the wisdom of abolishing the monarchy altogether and the
establishment of a republican government in its stead. The _T'ien-ming_
has always passed from dynasty to dynasty, never from dynasty to
people. From the remotest days of which we have record, the Chinese
system of government has been monarchic. If the revolutionaries can
break tradition to the extent of abolishing the imperial dignity, what
guaranty have we that they will not break with tradition in every other
respect as well, and so destroy the foundations on which the whole
edifice of China's social, political, and religious life has rested
through all the centuries of her known history?
Whether the Chinese people--as distinct from a few foreign-educated
reformers--do, as a matter of fact, honestly believe that a republican
government is adapted to the needs of the country, is a very different
question. It certainly has not been proved that "the whole nation is
now inclined toward a republic"--in spite of the admission to that
effect contained in the imperial Edict of abdication. Perhaps it would
be nearer the truth to say that the overwhelming majority of the people
of China have not the slightest idea what a republic means, and how
their lives and fortunes will be affected by its establishment, and
therefore hold no strong opinions concerning the advantages or
disadvantages of republican government.
It can not be denied, however, that the social system under which the
Chinese people have lived for untold ages has in some ways made them
more fit for self-government than any other people in the world. It
would be well if Europeans--and especially Englishmen--would try to rid
themselves of the obsolete notion that every Oriental race, as such, is
only fit for a despotic form of government. Perhaps only those who have
lived in the interior of China and know something of the organization
of family and village, township and clan, are able to realize to how
great an extent the Chinese have already learned the arts of
self-government. It was not without reason that a Western authority
(writing before the outbreak of the revolution) described China as "the
greatest republic the world has ever seen."
The momentous Edict in which the Manchu house signed away its imperial
heritage was issued on the twelfth day of February, 1912. It contains
many noteworthy features, but the words which are of special interest
from the constitutional point of view I translate as follows: "The
whole nation is now inclined toward a republican form of government.
The southern and central provinces first gave clear evidence of this
inclination, and the military leaders of the northern provinces have
since promised their support in the same cause. _By observing the
nature of the people's aspirations we learn the Will of Heaven
(T'ien-ming)._ It is not fitting that We should withstand the desires
of the nation merely for the sake of the glorification of Our own
House. We recognize the signs of the age, and We have tested the trend
of popular opinion; and We now, with the Emperor at Our side, invest
the Nation with the Sovereign Power and decree the establishment of a
constitutional government on a republican basis. In coming to this
decision, We are actuated not only by a hope to bring solace to Our
subjects, who long for the cessation of political tumult, but also by a
desire to follow the precepts of the Sages of old who taught that
political sovereignty rests ultimately with the people."
Such was the dignified and yet pathetic swan-song of the dying Manchu
dynasty. Whatever our political sympathies may be, we are not obliged
to withhold our tribute of compassion for the sudden and startling
collapse of a dynasty that has ruled China--not always
inefficiently--for the last two hundred and sixty-seven years.
The Abdication Edict can not fail to be of interest to students of the
science of politics. The Throne itself is converted into a bridge to
facilitate the transition from the monarchical to the republican form
of government. The Emperor remains absolute to the last, and the very
Republican Constitution, which involves his own disappearance from
political existence, is created by the fiat of the Emperor in his last
official utterance. Theoretically, the Republic is established not by a
people in arms acting in opposition to the imperial will, but by the
Emperor acting with august benevolence for his people's good. The cynic
may smile at the transparency of the attempt to represent the
abdication as entirely voluntary, but in this procedure we find
something more than a mere "face-saving" device intended for the
purpose of effecting a dignified retreat in the hour of disaster.
Perhaps the greatest interest of the decree centers in its appeal to
the wisdom of the national sages, and its acceptance of their theory as
to the ultimate seat of political sovereignty. The heart of the drafter
may have quailed when he wrote the words that signified the surrender
of the imperial power, but the spirit of Mencius guided his hand. It
now remains for us to hope that the teachings of the wise men of old,
which have been obeyed to such momentous issues by the last of the
Emperors, will not be treated with contempt by his Republican
successors.