The mysterious Sun Yat Sen’s visit--His escape from the Chinese
Legation--The Dargai tableau--Sir William Treloar entertains
his little friends.
Once in its long history Madame Tussaud’s Exhibition opened on a
Sunday--not, however, to the general public.
The occasion was special and, in a way, mysterious. It had to do with one
of the most dramatic personalities of the Chinese Empire and Republic.
A message reached me late on a Saturday night that Dr. Sun Yat Sen, the
first President of the Chinese Republic, wished to visit the Exhibition
on the following Sunday morning. I was unable to receive him in person,
but arranged that an attendant should represent me.
The attendant knew nothing of the name of the visitor till he saw him
looking at his own portrait and calling the attention of General Homer
Lee--an American soldier holding high rank in the Chinese Army--who
accompanied him, to the dimple in the chin of the model by placing his
finger smilingly on the dimple in his own chin.
[Illustration: DR. SUN YAT SEN
From a photograph.]
This was in the year 1911, and Sun Yat Sen was passing through London on
his way from America to take up his presidential duties.
His visit to the Exhibition had been planned by Dr. (now Sir James)
Cantlie, of Harley Street, to whom Sun Yat Sen owed--the greatest of all
debts of gratitude--his life.
For it was this same Sun Yat Sen who, eleven years before, was liberated
through the exertions of Dr. Cantlie from his prison in the Chinese
Legation at Portland Place, a few minutes’ walk from Madame Tussaud’s.
What would have happened to him but for the fact that Dr. Cantlie’s
intervention resulted in Sun Yat Sen’s release through Lord Salisbury’s
representations to the Chinese authorities can only be conjectured.
It was discovered at the time that a ship had been chartered in the
Thames for the removal of Sun Yat Sen to China on a charge of treason
against the Emperor--the same Emperor whose successor, under a republican
form of government, Sun Yat Sen was destined to be.
Particulars were also disclosed regarding the manner of his incarceration
at the Chinese Legation. He was inveigled into the place by the lures
of hospitality, and, once inside, the officials relegated him to an
apartment which they kept locked for many days.
It was only through Sun Yat Sen’s friendship with Dr. Cantlie, whose
suspicions were aroused by “inside” information, that the British
authorities learned of Sun Yat Sen’s fate and took steps to have him set
free.
[Illustration: DR. SUN YAT SEN
The wax model on view at Madame Tussaud’s of the first President of the
Chinese Republic.]
When the hero of this adventure visited Madame Tussaud’s on the Sunday
morning in question to see his model, I wondered what his reason could
be, and asked myself whether it had anything to do with the adapting of
his disguise, while travelling from this country to China, at a time when
his life must have been in danger.
Perhaps, after all, it was nothing more than the natural curiosity which
attracts people whose portraits have been recently added to come and see
them. The Eastern mind may not differ from the Western in this very human
respect.
* * * * *
Touching and dramatic in the extreme was the incident which accompanied
the unveiling of the tableau representing the Gordon Highlanders storming
the Heights of Dargai. Lieutenant-Colonel Mathias’s words were on all
lips at the time:
“That position must be taken at any cost; the Gordon Highlanders will
take it.”
Mrs. Mathias was present with her son and daughter at the supper we gave
to celebrate the event, and a piper played “The Cock of the North” to
recall the deed of the wounded piper who fired his comrades on to victory
and was awarded the V.C. When his father’s words were recited, young
Mathias sprang to his feet and thrilled all present by saluting in true
military fashion.
One of the brightest of red-letter days in Madame Tussaud’s romantic
story was the 24th of January, 1907, when Sir William Treloar, “the
children’s Mayor,” accompanied by several local Mayors, drove to the
Exhibition in all the panoply of civic state to give éclat to the visit
of fifteen hundred boys and girls of the poorest of the poor, whom we
made our guests.
[Illustration: THE CHILDREN’S LORD MAYOR
Sir William Treloar entertains his little friends at Madame Tussaud’s,
24th January, 1907.]
How richly the Right Honourable the Lord Mayor of London enjoyed himself
on that occasion, like the large-hearted man he is, and how pre-eminently
happy he was among the waifs and strays, many of whom were cripples,
whose lives he has done so much to brighten! Sir John Kirk, of the
Ragged School Union, was also there, beaming with joy among his little
beneficiaries. I remember Sir William Treloar pointing to his civic
headgear and calling out to the children, “How do you like my Dick Turpin
hat?”
Tea-tables were laid all among the figures, and the picture produced in
this way was both striking and amusing as the young people laughed and
chatted by the side of the approving mutes. Perhaps the remark which
seemed to create the greatest fun was when the Lord Mayor said he would
like to see his Sheriffs in the Chamber of Horrors.
It was very touching to observe the boys loyally and reverently take off
their caps in front of the little alcove in which Queen Victoria sits, as
someone has said, “signing despatches all day long.” At the close of the
happy day the halls and corridors of the Exhibition rang with the shrill
treble of fifteen hundred young voices singing “For he’s a jolly good
fellow,” followed by “Hip hip, hooray; the donkey’s run away.”
A tragedy happened that day not far away, in Westbourne Grove, which
caused the gentlemen of the Press who attended the function to leave
the Exhibition rather hurriedly. News came of the murder of Mr. William
Whiteley, the Universal Provider.