CHINA IN TURMOIL
During the time the Expedition was preparing to leave New York, China
was in turmoil. Yuan Shi-kai was president of the Republic, but the
hope of his heart was to be emperor of China. For twenty years he had
plotted for the throne; he had been emperor for one hundred miserable
days; and now he was watching, impotently, his dream-castles crumble
beneath his feet. Yuan was the strong man of his day, with more power,
brains, and personality than any Chinese since Li-Hung Chang. He always
had been a factor in his political world. His monarchical dream first
took definite form as early as 1901 when he became viceroy of Chi-li,
the province in which Peking is situated.
It was then that he began to modernize and get control of the army
which is the great basis of political power in China. Properly
speaking, there was not, and is not now, a Chinese national army. It
is rather a collection of armies, each giving loyalty to a certain
general, and he who secures the support of the various commanders
controls the destiny of China's four hundred millions of people
regardless of his official title.
Yuan was able to bind to himself the majority of the leading generals,
and in 1911, when the Manchu dynasty was overthrown, his plots and
intrigues began to bear fruit. By crafty juggling of the rebels and
Manchus he managed to get himself elected president of the new
republic, although he did not for a moment believe in the republican
form of government. He was always a monarchist at heart but was
perfectly willing to declare himself an ardent republican so long as
such a declaration could be used as a stepping stone to the throne
which he kept ever as his ultimate goal.
As president he ruled with a high hand. In 1918 there was a rebellion
in protest against his official acts but he defeated the rebels, won
over more of the older generals, and solidified the army for his own
interests, making himself stronger than ever before.
At this time he might well have made a _coup d'état_ and proclaimed
himself emperor with hardly a shadow of resistance, but with the
hereditary caution of the Chinese he preferred to wait and plot and
scheme. He wanted his position to be even more secure and to have it
appear that he reluctantly accepted the throne as a patriotic duty at
the insistent call of the people.
Yuan's ways for producing the proper public sentiment were typically
Chinese but entirely effective, and he was making splendid progress,
when in May, 1915, Japan put a spoke in his wheel of fortune by taking
advantage of the European war and presenting the historical twenty-one
demands, to most of which China agreed.
This delayed his plans only temporarily, and Yuan's agents pushed the
work of making him emperor more actively than ever, with the result
that the throne was tendered to him by the "unanimous vote of the
people." To "save his face" he declined at first but at the second
offer he "reluctantly" yielded and on December 12, 1916, became emperor
of China.
But his triumph was short-lived, for eight days later tidings of
unrest in Yün-nan reached Peking. General Tsai-ao, a former military
governor of the province, appeared in Yün-nan Fu, the capital, and, on
December 28, sent an ultimatum to Yuan stating that he must repudiate
the monarchy and execute all those who had assisted him to gain the
throne, otherwise Yün-nan would secede; which it forthwith did on
December 25.
Without doubt this rebellion was financed by the Japanese who had
intimated to Yuan that the change from a republican form of government
would not meet with their approval The rebellion spread rapidly. On
January 21, Kwei-chau Province, which adjoins Yün-nan, seceded, and, on
March 18, Kwang-si also announced its independence.
About this time the Museum authorities were becoming somewhat doubtful
as to the advisability of proceeding with our Expedition. We had a
long talk with Dr. Wellington Koo, the Chinese Minister to the United
States, at the Biltmore Hotel in New York. Dr. Koo, while certain that
the rebellion would be short-lived, strongly advised us to postpone our
expedition until conditions became more settled. He offered to cable
Peking for advice, but we, knowing how unwelcome to the government of
the harassed Yuan would be a party of foreigners who wished to travel
in the disturbed area, gratefully declined and determined to proceed
regardless of conditions. We hoped that Yuan would be strong enough
to crush this rebellion as he had that of 1918, but day by day, as we
anxiously watched the papers, there came reports of other provinces
dropping away from his standard.
On the _Tenyo Maru_ we met the Honorable Charles Denby, an ex-American
Consul-General at Shanghai and former adviser to Yuan Shi-kai when he
was viceroy of Chi-li. Mr. Denby was interested in obtaining a road
concession near Peking and was then on his way to see Yuan. His anxiety
over the political situation was not less than ours and together we
often paced the decks discussing what might happen; but every wireless
report told of more desertions to the ranks of the rebels.
It seemed to be the beginning of the end, for Yuan had lost his nerve.
He had decided to quit, and one hundred days after he became emperor
elect he issued a mandate canceling the monarchy and restoring the
republic. But the rebellious provinces were not satisfied and demanded
that he get out altogether.
About this time we reached Peking, literally blown in by a tremendous
dust storm which seemed an elemental manifestation of the human turmoil
within the grim old walls. Our cousin, Commander Thomas Hutchins, Naval
Attaché of the American Legation, was awaiting us on the platform,
holding his hat with one hand and wiping the dust from his eyes with
the other.
The news we received from him was by no means comforting for in the
Legation pessimism reigned supreme. The American Minister, Dr. Reinsch,
was not enthusiastic about our going south regardless of conditions,
but nevertheless he set about helping us to obtain the necessary visé
for our passports.
We wished first to go to Foochow, in Fukien Province, where we were
to hunt tiger until Mr. Heller joined us in July for the expedition
into Yün-nan. Fukien was still loyal to Yuan, but the strong Japanese
influence in this province, which is directly opposite the island of
Formosa, was causing considerable uneasiness in Peking.
We were armed with telegrams from Mr. C. R. Kellogg, of the
Anglo-Chinese College, with whom we were to stay while in Foochow,
assuring us that all was quiet in the province, and through the
influence of Dr. Reinsch, the Chinese Foreign Office viséd our
passports. The huge red stamp which was affixed to them was an amusing
example of Chinese "face saving." First came the seal of Yuan's
impotent dynasty of Hung-Hsien, signifying "Brilliant Prosperity," and
directly upon it was placed the stamp of the Chinese Republic. One was
almost as legible as the other and thus the Foreign Office saved its
face in whichever direction the shifting cards of political destiny
should fall.
At a luncheon given by Dr. Reinsch at the Embassy in Peking, we met
Admiral von Hintze, the German Minister, who had recently completed
an adventurous trip from Germany to China. He was Minister to Mexico
at the beginning of the war but had returned to Berlin incognito
through England to ask the Kaiser for active sea service. The Emperor
was greatly elated over von Hintze's performance and offered him the
appointment of Minister to China if he could reach Peking in the same
way that he had traveled to Berlin. Von Hintze therefore shipped as
supercargo on a Scandinavian tramp steamer and arrived safely at
Shanghai, where he assumed all the pomp of a foreign diplomat and
proceeded to the capital.
The Americans were in a rather difficult position at this time because
of the international complications, and social intercourse was
extremely limited. Dinner guests had to be chosen with the greatest
care and one was very likely to meet exactly the same people wherever
one went.
Peking is a place never to be forgotten by one who has shared
its social life. In the midst of one of the most picturesque,
most historical, and most romantic cities of the world there is a
cosmopolitan community that enjoys itself to the utmost. Its talk is
all of horses, polo, racing, shooting, dinners, and dances, with the
interesting background of Chinese politics, in which things are never
dull. There is always a rebellion of some kind to furnish delightful
thrills, and one never can tell when a new political bomb will be
projected from the mysterious gates of the Forbidden City.
We spent a week in Peking and regretfully left by rail for Shanghai.
_En route_ we passed through Tsinan-fu where the previous night serious
fighting had occurred in which Japanese soldiers had joined with the
rebels against Yuan's troops. On every side there was evidence of
Japan's efforts against him. In the foreign quarter of Shanghai just
behind the residence of Mr. Sammons, the American Consul-General, one
of Yuan's leading officers had been openly murdered, and Japanese were
directly concerned in the plot. We were told that it was very difficult
at that time to lease houses in the foreign concession because wealthy
Chinese who feared the wrath of one party or the other were eager to
pay almost any rent to obtain the protection of that quarter of the
city.
A short time later it became known to a few that Yuan was seriously
ill. He was suffering from Bright's disease with its consequent
weakness, loss of mental alertness, and lack of concentration. French
doctors were called in, but Yuan's wives insisted upon treating him
with concoctions of their own, and on June 6, shortly after three
o'clock in the morning, he died.
Even on his death-bed Yuan endeavored to save his face before the
country, and his last words were a reiteration of what he knew no one
believed. The story of his death is told in the China Press of June 7,
1916:
According to news from the President's palace the condition of Yuan
became critical at three o'clock in the morning. Yuan asked for his
old confidential friend, Hsu Shih-chang, who came immediately. On
the arrival of Hsu, Yuan was extremely weak, but entirely conscious.
With tears in his eyes, Yuan assured his old friend that he had
never had any personal ambition for an emperor's crown; he had
been deceived by his _entourage_ over the true state of public
opinion and thus had sincerely believed the people wished for
the restoration of the monarchy. The desire of the South for his
resignation he had not wished to follow for fear that general
anarchy would break out all over China. Now that he felt death
approaching he asked Hsu to make his last words known to the public.
In the temporary residence of President Li Yuan-hung, situated it,
the Yung-chan-hu-tung (East City) and formerly owned by Yang Tu,
the prominent monarchist, the formal transfer of the power to Li
Yuan-hung took place this morning at ten o'clock. Yuan Chi-jui,
Secretary of State and Premier, as well as all the members of the
cabinet. Prince Pu Lun as chairman of the State Council, and other
high officials were present.
The officials, wearing ceremonial dress, were received by
Li-Yuan-hung in the main hall and made three bows to the new
president, which were returned by the latter. The same ceremony
will take place at two o'clock, when all the high military
officials will assemble at the President's residence.
The Cabinet, in a circular telegram has informed all the
provinces that Vice-President Li-Yuan-hung, in accordance with
the constitution, has become president of the Chinese Republic
(Chung-hua-min-kuo) from the seventh instance.
So ended Yuan Shi-kai's great plot to make himself an emperor over four
hundred millions of people, a plot which could only have been carried
out in China. He failed, and the once valiant warrior died in the
humiliation of defeat, leaving thirty-two wives, forty children and his
country in political chaos.