AN AMERICAN DIPLOMAT
IN CHINA
WRITINGS OF PAUL S. REINSCH
The Common Law in the Early American Colonies, 1899
World Politics at the End of the Nineteenth Century As Influenced by
The Oriental Situation, 1900
Colonial Government, 1902
Colonial Administration, 1905
American Legislatures and Legislative Methods, 1907
Intellectual Currents in the Far East, 1911
International Unions, 1911
Essentials of Government, 1920 (_Published in Chinese_)
Secret Diplomacy, 1921
AN AMERICAN DIPLOMAT
IN CHINA
BY
PAUL S. REINSCH
AMERICAN MINISTER TO CHINA,
1913-1919
[Illustration]
GARDEN CITY, N.Y., AND TORONTO
DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY
1922
COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY
DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF TRANSLATION
INTO FOREIGN LANGUAGES, INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN
COPYRIGHT, 1921, 1922, BY ASIA PUBLISHING COMPANY IN THE
UNITED STATES AND ENGLAND. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES
AT
THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS, GARDEN CITY, N.Y.
_First Edition_
CONTENTS
PART I OLD CHINA AND THE NEW REPUBLIC
CHAPTER PAGE
I. The Dictator-President of China 1
II. China of Many Persons 8
III. Old Confucianism in the New China 23
IV. A Glimpse Behind the Political Scenes 42
V. With Men Who Watch Politics 48
VI. China of Merchant-Adventurers 59
VII. Prompt Proposals for American Action 70
VIII. A Little Vision for China 80
IX. "Slow Americans" 95
X. Folk Ways and Officials 108
PART II
THE PASSING OF YUAN SHIH-KAI
XI. The War: Japan in Shantung 123
XII. The Famous Twenty-One Demands 129
XIII. Getting Together 150
XIV. War Days in Peking 161
XV. Emperor Yuan Shih-Kai 171
XVI. Downfall and Death of Yuan Shih-Kai 183
XVII. Republicans in the Saddle 198
PART III
THE WAR AND CHINA
XVIII. American Entrepreneurs in Peking 207
XIX. Guarding the "Open Door" 217
XX. Diary of Quiet Days. Autumn of 1916 230
XXI. China Breaks with Germany 241
XXII. China's Bosses Come to Peking 260
XXIII. An Emperor for a Day 272
XXIV. War With Germany: Readjustments 286
XXV. The Chinese Go A-Borrowing 296
PART IV
LAST YEAR OF WAR AND AFTERMATH
XXVI. The Lansing-Ishii Notes 307
XXVII. Amidst Troubles Peking Rejoices 317
XXVIII. A New World War Coming? 328
XXIX. Japan Shows Her Teeth 339
XXX. Bandits, Intriguers, and a House Divided 347
XXXI. Young Men in Peking, Old Men in Paris 358
XXXII. A Nation Strikes and Unites 368
XXXIII. Taking Leave of Peking 375
Index 391
INTRODUCTION
Through recent developments China has been put in the forefront of
international interest. The world is beginning to have an idea of its
importance. Those who have long known it, who have given attention
to its traditions and the sources of its social and industrial
strength, have the conviction that China will become a factor of the
first magnitude in the composition of the world of the twentieth
century. They have penetrated beyond the idea that China is a land
of topsy-turvy, the main function of which is to amuse the outsider
with unexpected social customs, and which, from a political point of
view, is in a state bordering upon chaos. When we ask ourselves what
are the elements which may constitute China's contribution to the
future civilization of the world, what are the characteristics which
render her civilization significant to all of us, we enter upon a
subject that would in itself require a volume merely to present in
outline. From the point of view of social action, there is the widely
diffused sense of popular equity which has enabled Chinese society for
these many centuries to govern itself, to maintain property rights,
personal honour and dignity without recourse to written law or set
tribunals, chiefly through an informal enforcement by society itself
acting through many agencies, of that underlying sense of proportion
and rightness which lives in the hearts of the people. From the point
of view of economic life, China presents the picture of a society in
which work has not been robbed of its joy, in which the satisfaction
of seeing the product of industry grow in the hands of the craftsman
still forms the chief reward of a labour performed with patient toil
but without heartbreaking drudgery. From the point of view of social
organization, China forms an extremely intricate organism in which
the specific relationship between definite individuals counts far
more than any general principles or ideas. Loyalty, piety, a sense of
fitness give meaning to the ceremonial of Chinese social life, which
is more than etiquette as a mere ornament of social intercourse in
that it bodies forth in visible form as every-day observances, the
relations and duties upon which society rests. From the point of view
of art, China stands for a refinement of quality which attests the
loving devotion of generations to the idea of a perfect product; in the
representative arts, calmness of perception has enabled the Chinese to
set a model for the artistic reproduction of the environments of human
life. In their conception of policy and world position, the Chinese
people have ever shown a readiness to base any claim to ascendancy
upon inherent excellence and virtue. They have not imposed upon their
neighbours any artificial authority, though they have proudly received
the homage and admiration due their noble culture.
At this time, when the Far Eastern question is the chief subject-matter
of international conferences and negotiations, China stands before
the world in the eyes of those who really know her, not as a bankrupt
pleader for indulgence and assistance, but as a great unit of human
tradition and force which, heretofore somewhat over-disdainful of the
things through which other nations had won power and preference and
mechanical mastery, has lived a trifle carelessly in the assurance that
real strength must rest on inner virtue; China has made no use of the
arts of self-advertisement, but has felt within her the consciousness
of a great human force that must ultimately prevail over petty
intrigue and forceful aggression. The secular persistence of Chinese
civilization has given to the Chinese an inner strength and confidence
which make them bear up even when the aggressiveness of nations more
effectively organized for attack seems to render their position
well-nigh desperate. Can the world fail to realize that if this vast
society can continue to live according to its traditions of peace and
useful industry instead of being made the battleground of contending
Imperial interests, the peace of the world will be more truly advanced
than it may be by any covenants of formal contrivance? Declarations,
treaties, and leagues are all useful instruments, but unless the
nations agree without afterthought to respect the life and civilization
of China, all professions of world betterment would be belied in fact.
If China is to be looked upon as material for the imperialist policies
of others, peace conferences will discuss and resolve in vain.
During the six years of my work in China I was constantly surrounded
by the evidences of the transition of Chinese life to new methods and
aims. In all its complex phases this enormous transformation passed
in review before my eyes, in all its deep significance, not only for
China and the Far East, but for the whole world. It was this that made
life and work in China at this time so intensely fascinating. A new
form of government had been adopted. As I represented the Republic
upon which it had been largely modeled, whose spirit the Chinese were
anxious to follow, it fell to me to counsel with Chinese leaders as
if I had been one of their number. The experience of a great American
commonwealth which had itself successfully endeavoured to raise its
organization to a higher plane was of unending assistance to me in
enabling me to see the Chinese problems as part of what right-thinking
men were struggling for throughout the world. The most discouraging
feature was, however, that the needs of China so often took the form of
emergencies in which it seemed futile to plan at long range, in which
immediate help was necessary. Where one was coöperating with a group of
men beset by overpowering difficulties of the moment, it often seemed
academic even to think of the general improvement of political and
economic organization, over a longer range of time. The old elements
of the Imperial régime, the traditional methods of basing authority on
something from above, the purely personal conception of politics with
the corruption incident upon the idea that members of clans must take
care of each other--which formerly was a virtue--all were the sources
of the outstanding difficulties that jutted everywhere into the plans
for a more highly and efficiently organized commonwealth. But it was
a pleasure to see the growing manifestation of a commonwealth spirit,
the organization of public opinion, and the clearer vision of the
demands of public service. Even among the officials the idea that the
Government was merely a taxing and office-holding organization was
giving way, especially among the younger men, to a desire that the
functions of government should be used for developmental purposes, in
helping the people towards better methods in agriculture and industry,
in encouraging improved communications and public works of many kinds.
International action as seen from Peking during this period did not
have many reassuring qualities. In most cases it was based upon a
desire to lose no technical advantage of position; to yield not a whit,
no matter what general benefit might result through mutual concessions.
Each one was jealously guarding his position in which he had advanced
step by step. Some were willing to make common cause with others in
things that would not always commend themselves to a sense of equity,
in order that they might take still another step forward. During the
major part of this period one power employed every device of intrigue,
intimidation, corruption, and force in order to gain a position for
itself in flagrant disregard of the rights of the Chinese people
itself, and in oblivion of the rights of others.
As to American policy, the difficulties which I encountered arose from
the fact that a great deal was expected of a country so powerful, which
had declared and always pursued a policy so just to China. Chinese
goodwill and confidence, and the real friendship of the Chinese people
toward America certainly tended to make easier any task America might
be ready to undertake. But America had no political aims and desired to
abstain particularly from anything verging on political interference,
even in behalf of those principles we so thoroughly believe in.
American relationships to China depended not on governmental action,
but on a spontaneous coöperation between the two peoples in matters of
education, commerce, and industry.
Infinitely complex as were the questions of Chinese internal affairs
and of the privileges and desires of the various powers, yet to my mind
it was not a difficult problem to see what should be done in order
to put matters on a sound foundation. I had learned to have great
confidence in the ability of the Chinese to manage their own affairs
when let alone, particularly in commerce and industry.
That was the first desideratum, to secure for them immunity from
the constant interference, open and secret, on the part of foreign
interests desirous of confusing Chinese affairs and drawing advantage
from such confusion. So far as American diplomatic action was
concerned, its essential task was to prevent such interference, and
to see to it that China could not be closed even by those indirect
methods which often accompany the most vociferous, ardent declarations
in favour of Chinese independence and sovereignty. We therefore had
to keep a close watch and to resist in specific detail any and all of
those innumerable efforts on the part of others to secure and fortify
a position of privilege. That was the negative side of our action. The
positive side, however, was entirely non-political. Americans sought
no position of tutordom or control. Only upon the free and spontaneous
invitation of the Chinese would they come to counsel and assist.
The important thing was that Americans should continue to take a
hand in the education of China and the upbuilding of Chinese business
and enterprise. They had done this in the past, and would do it in
the future in the spirit of free coöperation, without desire to
exercise a tutelage over others, always rejoicing in any progress the
Chinese themselves made. Such activities must continue and increase.
Sound action in business and constructive work in industry should be
America's contribution to the solution of the specific difficulties of
China. The Chinese people were discouraged, confused, disillusioned;
but every centre, no matter how small, from which radiate sound
influences in education and business, is a source of strength and
progress. If Americans could be stopped from doing these things, or
impeded and obstructed in them, then there would nothing further
remain worth while for Americans to do. But if they could organize
enterprises, great and small, they would in the most direct and
effective manner give the encouragement and organizing impulse which
China needed so urgently. So the simple principle of American action
in China is this: By doing things in themselves worth while, Americans
will contribute most to the true liberation of the Chinese people.
Never has one nation had a greater opportunity to act as counsellor and
friend to another and to help a vast and lovable people to realize its
striving for a better life. Coöperation freely sought, unconstrained,
spontaneous desire to model on institutions and methods which are
admired--that is the only way in which nations may mutually influence
each other without the coercion of political power and the cunning of
intrigue. That is a feeling which has existed in the hearts of the
Chinese toward America. The American people does not yet realize what a
treasure it possesses in this confidence.
PART I
OLD CHINA AND THE
NEW REPUBLIC
AN AMERICAN DIPLOMAT IN CHINA
CHAPTER I
THE DICTATOR-PRESIDENT OF CHINA
"My opponents are disloyal. They would pull down my government." He who
spoke was cordial in his manner as he thus off handedly epitomized his
theory of government.
Yuan Shih-kai, President of the Chinese Republic, was short of stature
and thickset; but his expressive face, his quick gestures, his powerful
neck and bullet head, gave him the appearance of great energy. His
eyes, which were fine and clear, alive with interest and mobile, were
always brightly alert. They fixed themselves on the visitor with keen
penetration, yet never seemed hostile; they were full always of keen
interest. These eyes of his revealed how readily he followed--or
usually anticipated--the trend of the conversation, though he listened
with close attention, seemingly bringing his judgment to bear on each
new detail. Frenchmen saw in him a resemblance to Clemenceau; and this
is born out by his portrait which appears on the Chinese dollar. In
stature, facial expression, shape of head, contour of features as well
as in the manner of wearing his moustache, he did greatly resemble the
Tiger.
I had noted these things when I was first presented to the President,
and I had felt also the almost ruthless power of the man. Republican
in title he was, but an autocrat at heart. All the old glittering
trappings of the empire he had preserved. Even the Chief of the
Military Department of the President's household, General Yin Chang,
whom Yuan had sent to fetch me in Imperial splendour, is a Manchu and
former Imperial commander. His one foreign language significantly
enough was German which he acquired when he was minister in Berlin. I
had passed between files of the huge guardsmen of Yuan Shih-kai, who
had Frederick the Great's fondness for tall men; and I found him in the
showy palace of the great Empress Dowager, standing in the main throne
hall to receive me. He was flanked by thirty generals of his household,
extended in wings at both sides of him, and their uniforms made it a
most impressive scene.
But that was an occasion of state. Later, at a more informal interview,
accompanied only by Mr. Williams, secretary of the legation and Mr.
Peck, the Chinese secretary, observed Yuan's character more fully.
He had just expelled from parliament the democratic party (Kuo Min
Tang); then he had summarily dismissed the Parliament itself. Feeling,
perhaps, a possible loss of American goodwill he had sent for me to
explain his action.
"It was not a good parliament, for it was made up largely of
inexperienced theorists and young politicians," he began. "They wished
to meddle with the Government as well as to legislate on all matters.
Their real function was to adopt a permanent constitution for the
Republic, but they made no headway with that." And with much truth he
added: "Our traditions are very different from your Western ones and
our affairs are very complex. We cannot safely apply your abstract
ideas of policy."
Of his own work of stirring up, through emissaries, internal and
partisan controversies which prevented the new parliament from
effectively organizing, Yuan of course omitted to speak. Moreover,
he said little of the possibility of more closely coördinating the
executive and the legislative branches; so while he avowed his desire
to have a constitution forthwith, and to reconstitute Parliament by
more careful selections under a new electoral law, I found myself
thinking of his own career. His personal rule, his unscrupulous
advancement to power, with the incidental corruption and cold-blooded
executions that marked it, and his bitter personal feeling against all
political opponents--these were not qualities that make for stable
parliamentary government, which depends on allowing other people
frankly to advocate their opinions in the effort to gain adherents
enough to succeed in turn to political power. The failure to understand
this basic principle of democracy is the vice of Chinese politics.
"As you see," Yuan beamed eagerly, "the Chinese Republic is a very
young baby. It must be nursed and kept from taking strong meat or
potent medicines like those prescribed by foreign doctors." This
metaphor he repeated with relish, his eyes sparkling as they sought
mine and those of the other listeners to get their expressions of
assent or reserve.
A young baby indeed and childishly cared for! Here, for example, is a
decree published by Yuan Shih-kai on March 8, 1915. It indicates how
faith in his republicanism was penetrating to remote regions, and how
such faith was rewarded by him:
"Ihsihaishun, Prince of the Koersin Banner, reported through the Board
for Mongolia and Tibet that Kuanchuk-chuaimupal, Hutukhtu of the
Banner, has led his followers to support the cause of the Republic and
requested that the said Hutukhtu be rewarded for his good sentiments.
The said Hutukhtu led his followers and vowed allegiance to the
Republic, which action shows that he clearly understands the good
cause. He is hereby allowed to ride in a yellow canopied carriage to
show our appreciation."
This rather naïve emphasis on externals and on display is born of the
old imperialism, a more significant feature of Chinese political life
than it may seem. It colours most of the public ceremonies in China.
The state carriage which the President had sent to convey me to his
official residence in the Imperial City for the presentation of my
credentials, on November 17th, was highly ornate, enamelled in blue
with gold decorations. It was drawn by eight horses, with a cavalry
escort sent by the President and my own guard of mounted marines; the
legation staff of secretaries and attachés accompanied me in other
carriages.
Thus in an old Imperial barouche and with an ex-Imperial military
officer, General Yin, at my side, I rolled on toward the abode of the
republican chief magistrate. We alighted at the monumental gate of an
enclosure that surrounds the lovely South Lake in the western part of
the Imperial City. On an island within this lake arose, tier above
tier, and roofed with bright tiles of blue and yellow, the palace
assigned by the Empress Dowager to Emperor Kwang Hsu; for long years,
until death took him, it was his abode in semi-captivity. This palace
was now the home of President Yuan.
The remote origin of its buildings, their exquisite forms and brilliant
colouring, as contrasted with the sombreness of the lake at that
season, and the stirring events of which they have been the scene,
cannot fail to impress the visitor as he slowly glides across the
Imperial lake in the old-fashioned boat, with its formal little cabin,
curtained and upholstered, and with its lateral planks, up and down
which pass the men who propel the boat with long poles.
Arrived at the palace, everything recalled the colourful court life
so recently departed. I was greeted by the master of ceremonies, Mr.
Lu Cheng-hsiang, and his associate, Mr. Alfred Sze, later Chinese
minister at London and Washington. The former soon after became
Minister for Foreign Affairs, while Mr. Sze was originally sent as
minister to England. These gentlemen escorted me through a series of
courts and halls, all spacious and impressive, until we reached the
old Imperial library, a very jewel of architecture in this remarkable
Eastern world of beauty. The library faces on a clear and deep pool
round which are grouped the court theatre and various throne rooms
and festival halls; all quiet and secluded--a charming place for
distinguished entertainments. The rustle of heavy silks, the play of
iridescent colour, the echoes of song and lute from the theatre--all
that exquisite oriental refinement still seems to linger.
The library itself is the choicest of all these apartments. The perfect
sense of proportion expressed in the architecture, the quiet reserve
in all its decorations, the living literary reminiscence in the verses
written on the paper panels by the Imperial hand, all testify to a most
fastidious taste.
Here we rested for a few minutes while word was carried to the
President, who was to receive my credentials. Then followed our walk
between the files of the huge guardsmen, our entrance to the large
audience chamber in the pretentious modern structure erected by the
Empress Dowager, and the presentation to Yuan Shih-kai, as he stood in
the centre, flanked by his generals.
I was formally presented to the President by Mr. Sun Pao-chi, Minister
of Foreign Affairs; and Dr. Wellington Koo translated my brief address
and the President's reply.
A military dictatorship had succeeded the old imperialism, that was
all. Yuan had made his reputation and gained his power as a military
commander. Yet there was about him nothing of the adventurer, nor any
suggestion of the field of battle. He seemed now to be an administrator
rather than a military captain. Certainly he had won power through
infinite patience, great knowledge of men, political insight, and,
above all, through playing always a safe if unscrupulous game.
What is meant by governing in a republic he could not know. Without
high literary culture, although with a mind trained and well informed,
he had not seen foreign countries, nor had he any knowledge of foreign
languages. Therefore, he could have only a remote and vague notion of
the foreign institutions which China at this time was beginning to
imitate. He had no real knowledge or conception of the commonwealth
principle of government, nor of the true use and function of a
parliament, and particularly of a parliamentary opposition. He merely
accepted these as necessary evils to be held within as narrow limits as
possible.
During the two and a half years from my coming to Peking until the
time of his death, Yuan Shih-kai left the enclosure of his palace only
twice. This reminds me of the American, with an introduction from the
State Department, who wired me from Shanghai asking me to arrange for
him to take a moving picture of Yuan "proceeding from his White House
to his Capitol." This enterprising Yankee would have had plenty of
time to meditate on the difference between oriental political customs
and our own if he had waited for Yuan Shih-kai to "proceed" from his
political hermitage. The President's seclusion was usually attributed
to fear of assassination, but if such fear was present in his mind, as
well it might have been, there was undoubtedly also the idea, taken
over from the Empire, that the holder of the highest political power
should not appear in public except on very unusual occasions.
When he received me informally, he doffed the uniform of state and
always wore a long Chinese coat. He had retained the distinction and
refinement of Chinese manners, with a few additions from the West, such
as shaking hands. His cue he had abandoned in 1912, when he decided
to become President of the Republic. In the building which is now the
Foreign Office and where he was then residing, Yuan asked Admiral Tsai
Ting-kan whether his entry into the new era should not be outwardly
expressed by shedding the traditional adornment of the head which
though once a sign of bondage had become an emblem of nationality.
When Admiral Tsai advised strongly in favour of it, Yuan sent for a big
pair of scissors, and said to him: "It is your advice. You carry it
out." The Admiral, with a vigorous clip, transformed Yuan into a modern
man.
But inwardly Yuan Shih-kai was not much changed thereby.