CHINA'S REVOLUTION
GENERAL LI YUAN HUNG, THE LEADER OF THE REVOLUTION Frontispiece.
CHINA'S REVOLUTION
1911-1912
A HISTORICAL AND POLITICAL
RECORD OF THE CIVIL WAR
BY
EDWIN J. DINGLE
WITH 2 MAPS AND 36 ILLUSTRATIONS
NEW YORK
McBRIDE, NAST & COMPANY
1912
(All rights reserved.)
TO
THOSE WHO LAID DOWN THEIR LIVES AND
TO THE NEW CHINA PARTY
IN THE HOPE THAT THEIR STRUGGLES FOR FREEDOM
MAY HERALD THE DAWNING OF A DAY OF
RIGHT AND TRUTH FOR CHINA
THIS VOLUME IS INSCRIBED
AUTHOR'S NOTE
This volume is a popular history of the Revolution in China that broke out at Wuchang, Hankow, and Hanyang in October of 1911. The narrative contains a good deal of new information touching upon revolutionism in China, and the events leading up to the present climax. The magnitude of this Revolution cannot possibly be understood yet; but this volume is written in the hope that it will enable the student otherwise untutored to understand much that one absorbs in Chinese life.
When the Revolution broke out, I was residing in Hankow. Throughout the war I remained in Hankow, leaving this centre for Shanghai during the days when the Peace Conference was held in that city. I am a personal friend of the leader of the Revolution, General Li Yuan Hung, and, by virtue of having all the time been in possession of much exclusive information from behind the political curtain, am probably equipped to write of the main doings of the Revolution in that area where its effects were most marked. On the very eve of the Revolution, a book written by myself was published simultaneously in England and America, which contains some strangely prophetic utterances, and will give the reader who has not made Chinese politics a study a general idea of the condition of the country when the Revolution made the scales drop from the eyes of her teeming millions.[[1]]
I wish gratefully to acknowledge the kind offices of Mr. Thos. F. Millard, editor of the China Press, for allowing me free use of the columns of that journal. Much of my information has been culled from the C.P., although many of the articles were written by myself for that newspaper, whilst the war was in progress; but I am largely indebted to that paper also for many of my general later facts.
Especially also do I wish to thank the Rev. Bernard Upward, of Hankow, for the assistance he has rendered me whilst this volume was being prepared. The chapter entitled "Some Revolution Factors" is from Mr. Upward's pen, as is also that headed "Yuan Shih K'ai"; many of the illustrations shown in the volume also are reproductions from Mr. Upward's splendid collection. My warm thanks are also due to Mr. Stanley V. Boxer, B.Sc., for the drawings from which the two maps embodied in this volume were prepared, and for the explanatory note accompanying the sketch map of the battlefields.
It should, perhaps, in fairness to myself, be mentioned that, owing to absence from England, I have not had an opportunity of reading the proof-sheets before this volume was printed.
EDWIN J. DINGLE.
HANKOW, HUPEH, CHINA.
April 1, 1912.
[[1]] "Across China on Foot: Life in the Interior and the Reform Movement." Henry Holt & Co., New York. $3.50. J. W. Arrowsmith, Ltd., Bristol, 16s.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
II. [THE AFTERMATH]
IV. [GENERAL LI YUAN HUNG'S AMBITIONS FOR THE NEW CHINA]
VII. [THE BATTLE OF KILOMETRE TEN]
VIII. [THE BURNING OF HANKOW]
IX. [THE STRONGHOLD OF WUCHANG]
XII. [THE REPUBLIC SEEKS RECOGNITION]
XIII. [THE PEACE CONFERENCE—A MONARCHY OR A REPUBLIC?]
XIV. [THE COMING OF SUN YAT-SEN]
XV. [YUAN SHIH K'AI'S RETIREMENT]
XVI. [RECALLED TO SAVE THE MONARCHY]
XVII. [THE SZECHUEN REVOLT]
XVIII. [SOME REVOLUTION FACTORS]
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
[GENERAL LI YUAN HUNG] .... Frontispiece
[WHERE CHINA'S REVOLUTION STARTED]
[THE PROVINCIAL ASSEMBLY HALL, WUCHANG]
[THE RAW MATERIAL OF THE REVOLUTIONARY ARMY]
[THE CENTRAL MART OF THE WORLD]
[THE EFFECT OF A NAVAL BOMBARDMENT]
[TACHIMEN, WITH IMPERIALISTS IN OCCUPATION]
[HOW THE IMPERIALISTS CROSSED THE HAN]
[THE IMPREGNABLE HANYANG HILL]
[DISMANTLED IMPERIAL GUN ON PURPLE MOUNTAIN, NANKING]
[WHAT REMAINS OF HANKOW'S MAIN RIVER GATEWAY]
MAPS
[HANKOW NATIVE CITY, SHOWING BURNT AREA]
[WUHAN CENTRE: SKETCH MAP OF THE BATTLEFIELDS]
CHINA'S REVOLUTION
1911-1912
CHAPTER I
THE REVOLUTION
The story of the great Chinese Revolution of 1911-12 will probably never be told fully or accurately. China is a continent in its vast area. Its population is one-fourth of the whole human race. The country is not opened up by roads or railways and travel generally is arduous and slow; exaggeration among the people, as among all Orientals, is second nature. And so it would be at once impossible for any one man closely to follow up and widely and accurately to write of the Revolution which broke out at Wuchang last year, tracing it up to the present moment and getting a clean political and international outlook whilst doing so. Although I have endeavoured by careful study to get into focus with doings all over the Empire, I confess that I have been unable to secure unimpeachable information on any part of China other than that in which I was living (I speak of the interior of China, for it was easy enough to be kept informed in the main centres and the treaty ports whilst the telegraph lines were intact). Had there been roads and railways and communication of a kind to render it physically possible to move about, even then this would have been impossible; for soon after the Revolution broke the anti-foreign spirit and the outlawry shown in many parts of the country forbade any European going far from the treaty ports—and, of course, practically all foreigners were ordered to the coast by their consuls. Had a man a workable knowledge of the Chinese language in character, it would have been foolish to form one's opinions from the rumours that were printed everywhere in the Chinese Press. And so it comes about that only upon those things which one saw and did is a man justified to write.
The reader, if he knows China, will need no further explanation, for readily will he recognise my meaning. He will understand by experience what a mass of inconsistency and incongruity China and her people are. But to the Westerner who has never been into China nor rubbed shoulders closely with this peculiar people it will perhaps be necessary to add that life in China, in all its forms and phases, is fraught with such a truly remarkable atmosphere of the unexpected that to write on any Chinese man, woman, custom, habit, place, or thing one is able only to generalise—unless he goes into the tedium of particularising. To get into line it is necessary so to cut down and to prune and generally to reinterpret that when one has told his story there seems to be very little at all in it. But those who have lived in China know the conditions. They will have absorbed this incomprehensible spirit of the country, will understand what is written—and what is more important still, will magnetically feel what is left out which the writer on Chinese affairs would have said. When in writing upon men and things Chinese you think you have pruned down all apparent misinterpretation or misrepresentation, you find there is still a little pruning left to be done; you prune again, and in the end you find you often are, to the Western mind, misinterpreting and misrepresenting facts merely because you have left out that which, to you, with your Chinese eyes, appeared untrue. You see a thing in China and you think that you understand it. You fix it in your mind and tell yourself that you have absorbed it, whatever it may be, and that you now have the final thought and word and correct meaning. But after a little time you find, by a peculiar process of Chinese national twisting and shifting, no matter what you see, hear, think, believe, your final thought and word and correct meaning are changed completely.
This, perhaps, describes the political atmosphere during the Revolution. Into everything there came an exasperating suspense, a terrible tangle of all national affairs, as there still must be for a very long time to come. Therefore to the man who sets out to write a detailed history of China's Revolution, and correctly to diagnose the effect of one event upon another in a consecutive and truthful line, there at once appears a formidable task.
What the author has set out to do in this volume is to tell of what he saw and understood, and then to put into print carefully considered opinion on the general situation and a historical survey of revolutions and main events in China that have led up to the Revolution of last October. This Revolution, although outbreaking prematurely, was all wonderfully planned. "The movement began to take definite shape about fifteen or sixteen years ago," says Sun Yat Sen, the greatest of Chinese revolutionists, though he had been interested in the movement for a longer time than that. "Three years ago we were ready to take over Wuchang, Canton, and Nanking, but we were waiting to gain control of the Peking soldiers. We had been working for some time through the students. Following the war with Japan, the Peking Government began to organise its new army, sending students abroad to be trained to take charge of the army. It was at once seen that if the Manchus were able to organise and control a modern army it would greatly strengthen their position, and the Revolutionary party set to work to counteract their efforts. They worked through the students, so that when they returned to China to take positions as officers in the army they came as revolutionists. The outbreak could not have been postponed for more than a few months, but it did occur before it was expected. We knew that we had Wuchang, Nanking, and Canton, but there was a preliminary outbreak at Canton, then another one last summer. Then when the outbreak at Wuchang occurred it was no longer possible to postpone action, for the Government would have begun to disarm the soldiers who sympathised with us. At Canton they scattered our sympathisers over the province, so that it was very difficult to concentrate them. If our original plan had been carried out, there would have been very little fighting. Canton, Nanking, and Wuchang would have quietly gone over to us, and then all the troops could have marched on Peking if necessary. We have always had half of the Peking troops with us."
Thus declared Sun Yat Sen—and there is little doubt he was right. The hitherto irremediable suppression of the individual qualities and national aspirations of the people arrested the intellectual, the moral, and the material development of China. The aid of revolution was invoked to extirpate the primary cause, and China now proclaimed the resultant overthrow of the despotic sway wielded by the Manchu Dynasty and the establishment of a Republic. The substitution of a Republic for a Monarchical form of government was not the fruit of a transient passion; it was the natural outcome of a long-cherished desire for broad-based freedom, making for permanent contentment and uninterrupted advancement. It was the formal declaration of the will of the Chinese nation.
In a manifesto issued to all friendly nations from the Republic of China, when Sun Yat Sen was appointed Provisional President, it was declared that "we, the Chinese people, are peaceful and law-abiding. We have waged no war except in self-defence. We have borne our grievances during two hundred and sixty-seven years of Manchu misrule with patience and forbearance. We have by peaceful means endeavoured to redress our wrongs, secure our liberty, and ensure our progress, but we have failed. Oppressed beyond human endurance we deemed it our inalienable right as well as our sacred duty to appeal to arms to deliver ourselves and our posterity from the yoke to which we have so long been subjected, and for the first time in our history inglorious bondage has been transformed to an inspiring freedom splendid with a lustrous light of opportunity. The policy of the Manchu Dynasty has been one of unequivocal seclusion and unyielding tyranny. Beneath it we have bitterly suffered, and we now submit to the free peoples of the world the reasons justifying the Revolution and the inauguration of our present government. Prior to the usurpation of the Throne by the Manchus, the land was open to foreign intercourse, and religious tolerance existed, as is evidenced by the writings of Marco Polo and the inscription on the Nestorian Tablet of Sian-fu. Dominated by ignorance and selfishness, the Manchus closed the land to the outer world, and plunged the Chinese people into a state of benighted mentality, calculated to operate inversely to their natural talents and capabilities, thus committing a crime against humanity and the civilised nations almost impossible of expiation."
WHERE CHINA'S REVOLUTION STARTED.
This picture of Wuchang gives a good idea of the type of
buildings seen in a Chinese city. Six hundred Manchus perished
in Wuchang during the early days of the slaughter.
And there can be no doubt that, actuated by a perpetual desire for the subjugation of the Chinese, by a vicious craving for aggrandisement and wealth, the Manchus had governed China to the lasting injury and detriment of the people, creating privileges and monopolies and erecting about themselves barriers of exclusion in national custom and personal conduct which were rigorously maintained throughout the centuries. They had levied irregular and unwholesome taxes upon the Chinese without their consent, restricted foreign trade to treaty ports, placed likin embargoes upon merchandise in transit, and obstructed internal commerce. They had retarded the creation of industrial enterprises, rendered impossible the development of natural resources, and wilfully neglected to safeguard vested interests. They had denied the people a regular system and impartial administration of justice; inflicted unusual and cruel punishments upon all persons charged with offences, whether innocent or guilty; and frequently had encroached upon Chinese sacred rights without due process of law. They had connived at official corruption, sold offices to the highest bidder, and had subordinated merit to influence. They repeatedly rejected the Chinese people's most reasonable demand for better government, and reluctantly conceded pseudo-reforms under most urgent pressure, making promises without intention of fulfilling them.
Thus the manifesto showed up the weak spots in the Manchu governmental policy. And it continued: "To remedy these evils and render possible the entrance of China to the family of nations, we have fought and formed our Government; lest our good intentions should be misunderstood, we now publicly and unreservedly declare the following to be our promises:—
"All treaties entered into by the Manchu Government before the date of the Revolution will be continually effective up to the time of their termination; but any and all entered into after the commencement of the Revolution will be repudiated.
"All foreign loans or indemnities incurred by the Manchu Government before the Revolution will be acknowledged without any alteration of terms; but all payments made to and loans incurred by the Manchu Government after the commencement of the Revolution will be repudiated.
"All concessions granted to foreign nations or their nationals by the Manchu Government before the Revolution will be respected, but any and all granted after the commencement of the Revolution will be repudiated.
"All persons and property of any foreign nation within the jurisdiction of the Republic of China will be respected and protected.
"It will be our constant aim and firm endeavour to build upon a stable and enduring foundation a national structure compatible with the potentialities of our long neglected country.
"We will strive to elevate our people, secure them in peace, and legislate for their prosperity."
At this juncture it were idle to investigate how far these ideals have been reached. There has as yet been no time for deep national reforms to have been worked, and it is not the ambition of this volume to go deeply into political actualities. But no one, realising now that the Manchu rule in China has passed for ever, will doubt that, with such excellent qualities of common sense and eminent industry as the Chinese possess, we shall see a nation move that may move the world with it. The day will assuredly come, perhaps it is not so very far distant, when the Occidental observer will look around to see the globe girdled with an indissoluble bond of Chinese peoples, no longer too weak for aggression, but independent in all departments of national life. They will be taken up as equals into social relations of the white races. They are now struggling among themselves, asking merely to be allowed to fight out their own civil battles and order their own civil affairs. They will make mistakes, but probably will profit by them. The day will come when Chinese will no longer be elbowed and hustled by their haughtier Occidental neighbours, but perhaps instead we shall find ourselves entered into no easy international and commercial competition with people whom not so long since we looked down upon as servile and considered fit only to minister to our needs in manual ways. The problems that loom across the threshold of the future of this newly emancipated race, however, surpass in magnitude any that civilisation has hitherto had to encounter. There are clear indications of progress, but they are not yet clear enough. China has to be remade, and those engaged in the project may blunder because of the varied and widely varying patterns they have in stock to choose from.
Certain phases of development we are sure of. We are able to place our fingers upon certain points in China's national propaganda and say with certainty that such and such a line is bound to be followed, such and such a thing bound to happen. But, generally speaking, China is a land of unintelligibility; the best advice one can give is to "wait and see."
CHAPTER II
THE AFTERMATH
One of the almost certain features of the effect of the Revolution, however, will be China's increased foreign trade—probably 100 per cent., says Sun Yat Sen.
The year 1913 should mark a stride in commercial progress in China such as the world never before has seen. 1912 will probably be a year of unrest and uncertainty. The formation of a permanent Government and the election of a Cabinet, the dispatch of competent officials to outlying places, and the putting down of outlawry in the provinces will be a big programme for this year—if it is accomplished. But 1913 and the following years will probably unfold a remarkably rapid advance in exports and imports. China has held back from all things foreign centuries enough, but during the past two decades the seed has been sown for such a harvest of trade and commercial prosperity as shall keep the factories of the West hard at work to cope with the demands—that is, if the merchants of the West are quick to seize their chances as they come. And in this volume the author feels that it were well at this juncture, when an opportunity is presented to English and American traders to come in and take possession of the trade China is prepared to foster, to speak of the commercial possibilities which the next decade will give.
The reader will probably understand that, despite the enormous foreign imports which for years have come into China, there is not a tithe of the trade done yet which will be done with the opening up of the country, now almost bound to ensue. China's market is stupendous. The possibilities are wider than the average home manufacturer has any conception of. From the China Sea to the British Burma border, from the southern port of Canton up through all the partially opened Eastern provinces, through the whole of the wonderful Yangtze Valley to the practically untouched west, and away into newly touched areas where the inhabitants are all anxious to buy foreign goods, there is presented an unparalleled opportunity for the foreign manufacturer. Any one who has taken an intelligent interest in China's trade with foreign countries must have been impressed with the fact that she was not importing one-hundredth part of what she could easily handle. And if he had studied closely any particular district where some foreign import had been taken or foreign industry had been started and watched the phenomenal commercial growth in that particular district, he immediately would gather some idea of the far-reaching possibilities for the expansion of foreign trade in China.
Even the recent changes in dress wrought by the Revolution have shown the enormous demand there is for re-dressing the Chinese; with the passing of the queue they decided against the little round Manchu hat, an article made almost exclusively in China. Immediately there came a cry for the foreign hat; at once a trade was created, into the country there came all kinds and conditions and shapes of foreign head-gear—felts, cloth caps, and all sorts; they sold in hundreds of thousands and had to be supplied by some one. China, at all events, could not make them; to her it was something quite new; they had to come from outside. Japan was watching. She collared the trade, and in two months she had practically re-hatted China. But this is merely an instance; many more might be given to show the rapidity with which commercial changes come. In over seven thousand miles of travel in China, mostly far away inland where the effect of the treaty port is least felt, the writer some time ago made a study of the commercial aspect of things and how far the modern spirit had penetrated the interior, with a view specially to ascertain how the British merchant stands in the business life of the nation. This chapter, therefore, should have especial interest so far as it embodies correct data, gleaned in two years and a half of travel in many parts of the Chinese Empire where the traveller is still to the Chinese a wonder of wonders. In China, even in far interior places, one finds life, business, prosperity—a strange commingling of Western ideas with Eastern. Four hundred millions of people have to all intents and purposes become civilised. They are anxious to swing into line and want the equipment. Their needs are making China the greatest market in the world. They want everything—railways, machinery, tools, guns, ships, and much else. That there is an unprecedented large trade to be done must at once be granted. During the last decade, without thinking for the moment of the Revolution, China's foreign trade has doubled; in the next decade, if peace prevails, it must be trebled, and although one cannot ignore the fact that under ordinary conditions of progress China must ultimately become a serious rival to Western countries as an industrial nation, that day is not yet at hand. She must be a stupendous buyer before she can hope to become a serious competitor.
But the point need not, I think, be pursued farther. The country has merely to regain its normal condition, and we shall see trade increasing by leaps and bounds. I say merely to regain its normal condition for this reason: whilst the prevailing uncertainty continues no permanent increase of trade can be expected, but let there be some stable form of government and we shall see China recuperate and begin trade again in a wonderful manner. No people have such recuperative power. No people have such power of adaptation. And in the era of trade development upon whose threshold we are now standing we may confidently look to probably an uneclipsed season of foreign commercial enterprise in all parts of China. In the increased demand for woollen goods, for engineering equipment of all kinds, especially mining gear, for railroad supplies, for the thousands of household requirements of daily use, motor-boats and all the varied paraphernalia required to place an antiquated nation upon the footing of modern civilisation there will be a demand such as will make even Japan's era of commercial progress pale into insignificance.
The trade will come. Let so much be granted. The next point is, Who is to get it, and how is it to be got?
I am not a manufacturer nor a trader, and cannot go deeply into the detail of how business should be pushed. But I have seen a good deal of China, have closely watched the methods adopted by various internationals in various parts of the Empire, and it may be that my remarks on the matter may have the effect of awakening British and American traders to the realisation of the opportunity now before them. Some time ago, when placing manuscript for a prospective work on China, the publisher said: "What people want to know is how to increase their trade—they don't want to know about the physical characteristics of the country and the people so much as how to increase their trade. Write a book on how trade can be improved, and your book will sell." But it is probable that those who would most readily buy and read such a book would be the Britisher's competitor.
Now, so far as actual trading advantages are concerned, it may be said of the British that they hold the highest advantage possible over other nations; that advantage is in the fact that they hold the confidence of the people. No foreigner, be he merchant, missionary, traveller, or official, is trusted in China as is the Britisher. I speak with no intention of hurting the susceptibilities of any one. In trade the Chinese believe in the British, they believe in his goods; in the Revolution the soldiers would congratulate you most heartily if they knew that you were an Englishman, telling you that there is none better in the world. They might be right or wrong, I am merely writing what they were saying, and it is a fair ensample of the general opinion of the common people. But despite this advantage, it is patent to the thoughtful student of Chinese affairs that a great need exists among British merchants as a whole to "wake up." I am a Britisher, am perhaps naturally quick to notice where British merchants fail, where they are outrun in the race for trade in this land of great promise. I know there will be many who will at once ask me to turn to the shipping in Shanghai, in Tientsin, in any of the ports, and notice the predominance of British shipping. I shall be told that Great Britain still controls the bulk of the trade of China, and that there is no need for fear of the future. But there is another side to the story.
Go any day to the Bund at Hankow or Shanghai; watch the progress being made also by Japan. Go into the godowns and watch the progress of the little brown men from the land of the Rising Sun and watch their methods; run your eye along the offices whose men work hardest and longest—the Germans; keep yourself informed on the doings of the day in exports and imports, and you will find that, even if he does hold the volume of trade he has held for years, the Britisher by no means advances with new trade as rapidly as his competitors. In the past no nation has done so much towards the true development of China as the British. The British have laid the foundation, have sown the seed, and it is only their due that they should reap the harvest now at hand. But in the period during which the trade of China has so phenomenally advanced the cry has gone up from all quarters that the Britisher is not only losing his grip of the increase of China's trade in her commercial dawn, but literally giving way to the German, and that but a few years will be necessary to prove that Great Britain occupies a position relatively nearer the bottom of the list of nations who have a commercial finger in the pie.
I am not the first writer who has had a wail to make over the loss of British trade. But I do not, at the same time, see any reason why the British merchant should not easily maintain an indefinite supremacy of trade in China. It only needs a little more vim, a keener outlook, a speedier business adaptation to needs, the maintenance of commercial wakefulness where business has a tendency to increase. Competitors of Great Britain hold no advantages; they cannot in the long run put better goods upon the market—Japan, the most serious rival, certainly is producing inferior goods in larger bulk, and is everywhere overrunning the land with cheap and nasty goods, but the British-made article will always hold its own side by side with that of any other nation. And to the British merchant who in China, as in most other trading commercial spheres, has almost always absorbed the external trade, it does not matter much whether people say he is or is not losing the trade—so long as he is not. It has always been a case of Britain first and the rest nowhere. The Britisher makes a good living, has an established connection, is the life and soul of the social community, keeps up a fair average of orders with home firms, and is content. But no right-thinking Englishman, no matter how optimistically he may view the general situation of Great Britain's trade in the Chinese Empire, can deny that British trade does not expand proportionately with what is to be done and what others are doing. This is not pessimistic. Optimism is the keynote of the British merchant, and Great Britain's returns of exports and imports in the China trade are beyond that of any other nation. But very powerful rivals—Germany and Japan, more powerful than British merchants will admit to themselves—are in the field and fighting in a way that we cannot afford to ignore.
Take Germany first. German success is undeniable. It is patent to all beholders. German merchants are at every port. In real interior China, far away from the beaten tracks, I do not remember ever having met a single British commercial traveller—Germans I have met often. They go out into the byways, beating up the trade and creating new trade, putting themselves to inconvenience and exertion to get orders, and undergoing in many cases greatest physical strain in travel to get business. Once I met a man not far from the border of British Burma; he had come right across China and had been away from his business house in Shanghai for several months, and was then going down to Rangoon and around to Shanghai by sea because it was the easier and quicker way back. This is perhaps an isolated case, but one may judge from it that the German merchants, while doing all they can as importers of the goods the people want to buy, spread their representatives far away from the buying centres to show the people what they can do. In Tientsin, during the past few years, the German has become a serious rival. German trade now at that important northern port is probably equal to British trade. In Eastern Siberia German is the business language, as a matter of fact, but to the German, unlike the nonchalant Britisher, it does not matter where he is placed in China, the first thing he does is to get a working knowledge of the language, a factor of far greater importance in China than appears on the surface. The German succeeds, not by political influence, not by tariffs nor underhand methods, but by sheer business application, and is building up an extensive scheme, founded on sound principles, to capture the lion's share of the growing trade which will go to Europe and to wrest from the Britisher a large proportion of that which has always been his. The average German reads about China—its history, of the physical characteristics of the country, of the people in the interior and the life they live, what they have and what they want. The Englishman does not trouble. He rarely learns the language, is careless to find out anything about the country unless it is to get an idea of sport, and so on.
The other dangerous rival is the Jap. If one were to go into detail and write regarding the Japanese methods of business, it is probable that much of it would subsequently be suppressed. The Japanese in business in China is not the soul of honour. He has to be watched. It is not possible here to speak at length on the unprincipled and shady tactics employed in China—and particularly in the north and in Manchuria—by Japanese traders. One and all seem to be alike, all endowed with that secret and clannish spirit permeating all Eastern nations, with a big dash of some peculiar virtue of unscrupulousness, and they have brought themselves into a position of the most favoured nation in the Chinese Empire. Japan has determined to get the trade by any means. Once in a Chinese city in the interior, where doors were closed to foreign trade, I saw the largest store on the street was Japanese. Business is not done there, they say in self-defence, but a show is maintained so that goods of the same kind may be secured from Tokio! The Jap is in everything, he is everywhere—to be first he cuts under, for he has little reputation to lose. Yet he is as good in his own opinion as the best-bred European, and he lets you know it. No man, however, unblinded by prejudice, can study the progress of Japan in China, can look upon its amazing national advance with either admiration or respect. I have met him in the interior, in Yunnan and Szechuen, prospecting quietly for minerals, tapping goldfields and iron beds that are lying waste, seeking out the best centres for the opening up of trade, finding out what there is a demand for, and marking out the strategic centres from whence his trade may be handled to the disadvantage of every one. The Jap, as I have said, is everywhere, in everything—rarely, however, to be trusted.
But no matter how many the rivals, I should think that no two nations have better prospects for the securing of China's new trade than Great Britain and the United States. It needs alertness, however.
CHAPTER III
GENERAL EXPECTATIONS
With the opening of China as a Republic the progress to be made in education will undoubtedly be stupendous. Missionaries will probably find an ever-increasing field. Missionaries and educationists will have a freer hand and be everywhere more greatly respected. They will play more than ever an increasing part in uplifting the people. Lord William Gascoign-Cecil has pointed out that if the West is to be saved she must illuminate China, and he says unless that vast country has attained the same standard as ourselves we must undergo a process of degradation. Our civilisation grew up, like our old towns, under the shadow of the Church; you will see in any country in Christendom the village clustering round the church, the town round the cathedral. Of late years big factory chimneys have been covered with the smoke of industry; still, they have left their mark as much on our civilisation as on our landscapes. But now a country which knows nothing of church or cathedral is entering into that civilisation, and the church and the cathedral become things of archæological interest and nothing more, unless, indeed, the Church will take the opportunity and conquer the industrial China that threatens the West.
"I do not mean," said Lord William Cecil, "only by sending out missionaries, but also by teaching the future rulers of this great industrial people the truth and value of a Christian civilisation. The pessimist says this is impossible, and thus sounds the knell of our social legislation; but the Christian says the world is built for progress, and the acquisition of China to our civilisation is our opportunity for making the world a happier place. If we could at this moment help the Chinese to value the high principles which underlie our Western thought, China might be rendered happy by the brilliant light of a Christian civilisation and the world saved from a disaster of having labour sink from a Christian to a semi-Oriental status."
And although the fall of the Manchu dynasty will open the pathway into real progress in this land, we must agree that there is an infinite pathos in the Child-Emperor, ignorant, innocent, abdicating the throne which his forefathers had won, a mere pawn in the game between Chinese and Manchus. But pathetic as this incident is, we must not let its pathos obscure in our minds its more important aspects; it is not only the abdication of an Emperor we have to consider, but it is also the destruction of the conventional and artificial Chinese civilisation before the vigorous civilisation of the West. Vast China, with its four hundred millions of industrious population, with its infinite resources of coal, iron, and other minerals, with its traditions of Confucianism, Taoism, and Lamaism, has become part, and a very large part, too, of Western civilisation.
We are indeed, during our generation, watching the making of history wonderful in its possibilities. The following quotation from the writer quoted may be intensely prophetic:—
"We are opening a new volume in the history of the world—a volume in which strange and terrible things may be written; a volume which, on the other hand, may contain a brighter story than any of us conceive to be possible. How one longs to read that volume as it will be written by the historian a hundred or two hundred years hence! Will it run thus: 'From this time the condition of the working class of Europe began steadily to deteriorate, and though the short-sighted statesmen of the twentieth century failed to appreciate it, this was the inevitable result of adding to the working men of the world a population remarkable for its industry and so inured to poverty that its workers gladly submitted to conditions which the Western workmen naturally and with justice refused'? Or will it run thus: 'The decadent Christianity of the West, corrupted by luxury, divided by sectional strife, received new life under the influence of the more sincere Chinese Christianity, purified in the harsh school of persecution and stimulated by the great political upheaval which caused the deposition of the Manchu Emperor'?"
We cannot take down the volume, we cannot read to the end; we must wait as year after year the pages are turned over, but we shall do well to appreciate the importance of this page of contemporary history.
China now will undergo before our very eyes a social and commercial and educational transformation, and so speedily will events in the main transpire that if one is to get the historical march of events fixed in his mind it is necessary to read at once what has passed. As soon as any national event passes now it falls speedily back into history. We cannot keep pace with all that transpires. Changes pass even us who live in China for the most part unnoticed. The face of China whilst we look upon it takes on a new appearance.
It is well that we should read of the doings leading up to this great era of transition.
CHAPTER IV
LI YUAN HUNG'S AMBITIONS FOR THE NEW CHINA
"We will have no further Manchu rule.
"China must be a Republic founded on lines laid down by the United States of America. The United States of China must be opened up with all speed, and for this purpose there must be a combined effort made with Chinese and foreign capital and Chinese and foreign labour.
"Confucianism will probably become the national religion, but I personally favour the doctrine of Christianity being proclaimed far and wide in China, and of encouraging missionaries to come in greater numbers to our country.
"I am desirous that the form of government, after the Manchu rule is abolished, shall not alter very greatly, so that there shall be no disruption of trade and commerce and of diplomatic connections of China in the Empire and in foreign countries."
This practically covers the main statement made to myself on Monday, November 20, 1911, by General Li Yuan Hung, leader of the Revolution of China. My privilege of interviewing the General was exclusive. I was given a special pass, and was granted the privilege of going where I liked in Wuchang, the city where the Revolution broke out, and doing almost as I pleased, being the first to secure exclusive conversation with his Excellency since the Revolution had begun.
China's Revolution is one of the most thrilling epochs in the world's history. Had there been no Li Yuan Hung, whose name to-day, is known in civilisation everywhere, there would probably have been no Revolution. History may prove Li Yuan Hung to be the greatest reformer China has given to the world. To his remarkably sound administration and his clean example to the people he was leading are due the changes that have so speedily ushered the New China to full prominence on the political stage of the East and the West. To rise from total obscurity in the life of a nation to the highest point of political fame is rarely given to any man. To change the whole tendencies of the national life of a people is rarely given to one man. But no one man ever in history was able to mould anew the social and political outlook of a quarter of the whole human race, as did Li Yuan Hung when he led the Chinese Revolution. He proved himself a man unique in the eyes of the world, the most effective reformer of his generation of any country.
On the day that I set out to have my talk with Li Yuan Hung, Wuchang, the capital city, of Hupeh, which had revolted to a man, bore every evidence of victory; and despite the minor reverses that the Republican Army had for several days been suffering in their encounters with the Imperial Army, sent down from Peking under General Yin Chang to quell the rebellion, I found that in the city there was infinitely greater hope among the people and infinitely stronger confidence in their leader than in the early days of the Revolution. One felt that he was touching the bedrock of humanity, had come into grips with a people who with one set purpose were going forward day by day to accomplish the true work of winning back China for the Chinese. As one passed through the streets, around the forts, in and out among the men who were with their lives prepared to buy freedom for Manchu-ridden China, one realised that this part of the Chinese nation, hitherto as silent as some great sleeping monster, had suddenly found its voice, and had set out determinedly to tell the world what it meant to do. Around one was waging civil war that was to decide the enormous stakes. There had been many civil wars in the world before—Wars of the Roses and many others which had had their historical significance—but as one seemed to gaze out upon a great country like China and a people who go to make up one-fourth of the human race, slowly was the fact borne in upon one's mind that this civil war had a significance that perhaps belonged to none other. It seemed like a war of belief against unbelief. One felt that he had met men who were concerned only with the real essence of justice and reform which were to regulate the deep-reaching interests of four hundred millions of men—one must be understood as talking about the leaders more particularly. And this is the most real thing about this people's Revolution—the making of order and right government. General Li Yuan Hung seemed to be a great national carpenter, taking now the rough trees, shaping them into purpose and real use. This was my first impression of the man, for by his extreme calmness, his practical insight into things—it was almost impossible to conceive a mere military man capable of such patience in the midst of extreme mental and physical strain—he was showing the world that he was a leader born. General Li was a man of perhaps forty-eight, at first sight giving the impression that he had developed as an altogether brave and quiet man. As I conversed with him I could not help noticing again and again the decisive, practical eye of this leader of the people, how he drove immediately towards the practical, and had a genuine insight into what was fact and right and truth. He had an eye to see and a heart to dare. His nature was strong rather than intense, with his utterances full of sincerity and of substance.
THE PROVINCIAL ASSEMBLY HALL, WUCHANG.
Where General Li had his headquarters until after the fall of Hanyang.
I went direct to the Assembly Hall, where the guard received me and where my foreign visiting-card was taken first to the Foreign Office, while I was marched to a waiting-room. Around the building there was a flutter of official life, for from that building the whole channel of China's history was being changed. Here there were no tremulous, hesitating, half-hearted men; all was life. Each man, from the usual underlings who hung about the doorways to the lowest soldier on guard, from the lowest clerk on the General staff to the General himself—all men went about their business with a fixity of purpose that was new to China. There was no disorganisation. All was quiet and smoothly running. The new Republican flag from many towers waved triumphantly in the morning wind. On the drill-ground outside one could hear the blowing of bugles and the clatter of arms as the regiments were being drilled. Away down in the town, on one, two, a dozen, twenty pieces of open ground recruits were being licked into shape. Over on the hills could be heard the blast of cannon and field-pieces from all directions. The slight whistle of a shell dropping through the air told one that bombarding from both sides was going on apace. But in the General's hall no evidence other than the running hither and thither of dispatch-runners could be seen that war was waging all around one. No one could listen to General Li Yuan Hung without developing a great trust in the man. Sometimes his face lit up with radiance bred only of devout determination, and he had all along succeeded in infusing that spirit into all the people of the city in which he had been so long an ordinary military officer. My reader should not, however, understand me to mean, in my description of the scene where the Revolution broke out, that a China freed from all corruption and all the usual Chinese incongruities and official twistings had suddenly come into being. Any one who has followed my writings on China generally would, were this the case, accuse me of the greatest inconsistency. But during those early days of the Revolution we certainly saw a Chinese official life we had never seen before. Li's court was at that time the cleanest and the most hard-working and practical that had been seen at any time in China's history. That it was not perfect all those who looked on were quite aware, but it was vastly ahead of the general run of Chinese civic life.
Soon there came to the waiting-room a smart young officer, wearing foreign spectacles, in a uniform that had a peculiar mingling of foreign military and civic dress. He saluted, then bade me follow him. His business was to show me to the Foreign Office. Here I decided to make an instant objection, being content with nothing less than an interview with Li Yuan Hung. So that when, having arrived inside a large room at the end of the veranda of the second story of the rectangular building, a rather stout Chinese gentleman in military undress accosted me, I explained that I had already made arrangements for an interview with General Li, that I would be obliged if the proper wheels of office could be set in motion to allow me to see him, and that as soon as possible. Just at this point the Chinese in military undress smiled, and quietly said, "Yes, I am General Li."
Addressing me in English, the General, with gentle Chinese suavity, told me that his time was at my disposal; that with only an imperfect hold upon my honourable language he would probably find some difficulty in telling me accurately what was in his mind, but that whatever question I put to him he would do his best to answer. Li Yuan Hung was a handsome Chinese gentleman—about five feet three or four, queueless, with close-cropped, bristly black hair, eyes somewhat close set, which at times shone with extraordinary fire, and a chin that immediately gave evidence of an infinite determination; were it not for his military bearing, he might readily have been taken for a prosperous Chinese merchant. He was keen, a leader of men who did not hesitate a moment. So utterly unlike the ordinary Chinese official, who leaves the vital points of an interview until he rises to take his leave, General Li, with eyes beaming, and slightly raising his hand in his enthusiasm, exclaimed: "Yes, now we have thirteen out of the eighteen provinces, and our Republican party is formidable.[[1]] We have gathered under our new flag many more provinces in a much shorter time than we had hoped for, an evidence that China was waiting for the step to be taken to overthrow the Manchus."
"Why, General Li, did the Revolution break out? Can you tell me briefly the specific reason you assign for the outbreak to have taken place so suddenly?"
He smiled slightly as he looked me straightforwardly in the eyes. "Well, throughout our Empire there had been for years the feeling that the Manchus would never give us Chinese any justice. They were pressing us down, and although the Revolution took place sooner than anticipated, all Chinese knew that it was coming sooner or later. I personally had formulated no great scheme to take the lead. As a matter of fact, although I knew all that was going on in the Hupeh Model Army, I had no intention of taking the lead, nor of occupying the position in which you find me to-day. The time planned for the Revolution would probably have been later. China was waiting for the man to rise up who would strike. None of the leaders of the Revolution—of our new Republic—were anxious that there should be great slaughter—the only wish was that the Manchu rule should be abolished for ever. And since I have been the leader of the Republic I have done my best that as little loss of life as possible might be incurred."
"Are you quite sure that the Revolution will be permanently successful, that all China will become loyal to the Republican flag?"
"Loyal!" exclaimed Li, with the joviality of a boy, then his face was closer knit again. "There is no doubt whatever. We have thirteen provinces, with the armies of all those provinces; we have the Chinese Navy, part at Hankow, part at Nanking,[[2]] sent there to aid in the attack, and part at Shanghai. We control the Yangtsze." But the General dismissed the question of loyalty to the Republic as not being worthy of notice, adding that it was merely a matter of time for China to be knit together with a great overpoweringly strong patriotism which would have no equal in the Eastern or Western world. Then he continued: "My personal desire would be to see every province a free province, with its own Assembly, but controlled by one great national governmental body. We shall take our pattern from the United States of America, having a President to control our provincial assemblies—just like America," he added curtly.
"How often would you elect a President? In China, unopened as it is, with no communication, do you not think it would be more difficult to organise elections and matters of a national character than it is in the States?" I asked.
"Every four, five, six, or even ten years. Our President, if we got the right man, might be in office for ten years for that matter. At all events, this is my personal opinion, but this, with many other matters, would come up for decision at the first assembly, and it is my desire not unduly to influence that body."
"Who do you think you would ask to become the President—Yuan Shih K'ai perhaps?" I asked.
"Ah, no," came the quick rejoinder. For some considerable time Li Yuan Hung had been endeavouring to persuade Yuan Shih K'ai to come over to the Revolutionary party and assume control of the formation of the Republic; but his efforts had met only with a stubborn refusal by Yuan. "We must push out the Manchus. Yuan Shih K'ai will not, I believe, become our President."
His Excellency stopped talking at this point, and I waited in vain to hear more about Yuan. After a moment I suggested: "But Yuan Shih K'ai is one of your great friends, is he not?"
"No, I do not call Yuan Shih K'ai a friend. He is known to me personally, but I do not know much about him or of the ambition he now has with China. You see, he will not listen to me."
"True, but the foreign newspapers are saying that Yuan Shih K'ai, because he is your personal friend, will become the first President."
"Are they? I did not know. Well, perhaps Yuan Shih K'ai would rise very high in the Republican party, but he has shown his determination merely to sit on the fence waiting for the result." And General Li held up his hands and rocked to and fro in his chair to make his meaning clear.
"Who are your political associates at this time?"
His Excellency, at first not seeming to understand my meaning, said that he had none, but afterwards told me that his great friend was Admiral Sah. The subsequent references which he made to the Admiral were touching. "He is my teacher!" he affectionately exclaimed. "He is now gone to Shanghai, but after the fighting is over he will come to advise the Republic on naval matters. Admiral Sah is a good man, his heart is very warm." In further conversation General Li declared that they had now the strongest men in the country, and the men who had not turned were hardly worth the having. He paid eulogistic references to the statesmanship of Wu Ting Fang, several of the Ministers of the old Government, whom he hoped to retain in office, and to Sun Yat Sen especially.
Continuing, the General said his idea was that China's foreign representatives should be retained, and that in no way was he desirous of altering the representation anywhere, in China or out of it, if officials were willing to serve—granted, of course, that their retention in office gave satisfaction and they were returned by public vote. "We wish to retain all who will work conscientiously for China's welfare, so that there shall be no disruption of trade and commerce or of China's diplomatic connections all over the world. Roughly, the scheme that I should favour would be:—
"1. Expulsion of the Manchus outside the Great Wall to Mongolia (excepting those who are willing to join the Republican party).
"2. Establishment of a Republic on lines after the style of America, with exclusive government for each State and one great National Assembly.
"With these points decided, we shall be able to call together all popular reformers from all the provinces and form our Government. But this will be the time that I shall resign."
At this juncture of the conversation the General looked wistfully out of the window, speaking almost to himself. By then, he said, he should have accomplished his part for the winning of China back into the hands of her own people, and he should throw the cloak of control on to other shoulders. His quiet, unostentatious manner as he proceeded humbly to compare his own powers with other men in China showed a spirit of true greatness. Here was the hero of China, the man above all men who had guided her public life into safe channels and upon whom the eyes of the diplomatic, social, and political world were riveted—and he was talking of giving way to better men. Presently, as if coming out of a reverie, he turned towards me again, smiling heartily, as I suggested that that would probably not be allowed. But he was determined.
"No, there can be no place for me; I am a military man, but China has many better administrators. We have plenty of men." And then he added, as an afterthought, "Of course, if they want me, they can always have me." And he smacked the table as if he had joked unconsciously.
And although I tried to impress upon his Excellency the fact that had there been no General Li there would probably have been no such success as was attending the Revolution, he would have none of it. He preferred to wander on in confidential tones, telling me that his personal wishes were not to be taken into account at all. What he personally was anxious to do was to control the initial stages of winning over the country; then his part was the planning of the defences and the organisation of the military; after that whatever the new Government wished him to do he would endeavour faithfully to carry out, not for his own sake but for the sake of the country of which he was proud and which he loved.
He did not seem inclined to enter into conversation much about the monarchical style of government which many declare more favourable to China as a country which had always looked to one head, the Emperor, as the Son of Heaven. Referring to England and comparing that country with the United States, Li Yuan Hung said that the style of the Monarchical Government of England was best for her people, but he did not believe it to be the best for the Chinese; and now that China was breaking away from all old systems and customs he thought the Republican control better suited to China's needs. In the course of conversation I attempted to raise several questions which would probably go against the establishing of a Republic when the Senate met, but General Li did not pursue the conversation, and seemed disinclined to talk until I mentioned the religion of the country, quoting the annual Sacrifice at the Temple of Heaven—how would that be carried out? Then again his eyes shone. He came closer to me, raised his hand a little as if to convince me in what he was going to say, and spoke slowly:—
"All sacrifices will probably be stopped, but the religion of the people will be Confucianism."
"But Confucianism is not a religion. Do you not think, General Li, that Christianity will become more popular among the people as the country is opened up more?"
"Oh, yes, missionaries are our friends. Jesus is better than Confucius, and I am strongly in favour of more missionaries coming to China to teach Christianity and going to interior provinces. We shall do all we can to assist missionaries, and the more missionaries we get to come to China the greater will the Republican Government be pleased."
The General then went on in very simple language to say that he was personally very pleased with all the labours of the missionaries, and that China would not be to-day were it not for the missionaries, who had gone into out-of-the-way places and opened up the country.
"But as a matter of fact we feel that we want as many foreigners to come to China as possible. The opening up of the country can only properly be accomplished by the united efforts of Chinese and foreigners, and in this new Republic we realise that it is only by mingling more freely with the other nations of the world that China will have her resources developed. Of our military and navy, our defences, our schools and colleges I have no fear, but one of the most important items in our Republican programme is that which will enable us to develop our wealth."
"Well, will you be in favour of granting concessions to foreign syndicates for the development of mines and so on?"
"I do not think so. It is impossible for me to say what will be done, but my personal wish would be freely to combine foreign capital with Chinese capital and labour." But the General, at this moment turning abruptly towards a staff officer who brought him a dispatch from the battlefield, announced, "But we shall have foreign advisers, and all such matters as this would be decided later." And he added forcefully, "We must consolidate the whole of China—that is the main thing."
"You spoke of foreign loans just now. There will be need for foreign loans now more than ever?"
"Yes, we shall need more foreign money and more foreigners in the employ of our Republican Government; but my party is convinced that there will be no difficulty in getting all the assistance, financial and otherwise, from the Powers. Already America has telegraphed her good wishes, and the time will come when the two greatest republics in the world will be on the most friendly footing—probably China will drift more towards America and learn more from her than from any other country."
"As regards business, do you think that Hankow will benefit in trade from the Revolution?"
The General pondered for a moment, thoughtfully putting his thumb and finger to his chin. He hesitated briefly, then declared straight out that he thought Hankow would become, perhaps, the biggest city in Asia.
In concluding our conversation, Li Yuan Hung told me that he had been to Japan for one year only, that he had five children (two boys and three girls), that he was a native of Hwangpi in Hupeh, and that when his children were old enough he would send them away for their education.
"Where to?"
"To America," came the reply, and a happy smile with it. After wishing me goodbye, General Li, still holding my hand, said:—
"One word more before you go." He placed his left hand on my shoulder, bent his body slightly towards me. "Please do not forget to say that this Revolution took place because the Manchus were so unfair to the Chinese—for no other reason."
He then bade me farewell, and I departed.
* * * * *
This interview is given in extenso because of its vital bearing upon the general attitude of the Republican party at the present moment. Events have transpired slightly to throw some of Li Yuan Hung's ambitions to the ground, but the views he held may be taken as the general aims of the party that is headed by Sun Yat Sen to-day. As my manuscript goes forward to the publishers it is a matter of impossibility accurately to predict what the outcome of China's Revolution will be. It may be a Republic; it may be a Monarchy. Be the form of government what it may, however, there will remain in the eyes of every patriotic Chinese but one General Li, and his views on the political situation and the needs of his great country, at the time when her national pendulum tremulously ticked out issues of the highest import, will have a permanent interest for all students of affairs in China.[[3]]
[[1]] This was only a month after the Revolution had broken out. The reader will learn later on in this volume of the changes following along in the ensuing months.
[[2]] Nanking, the city now planned by the Republican party as the capital, after a most stubborn resistance, fell to the Revolutionary Army a fortnight afterwards.
[[3]] Li Yuan Hung at the time of the Revolution was forty-eight years old. His birthplace was a village in the north of Huangpi, not many miles from the scenes that made him famous. "Li Yuan Hung" was his official name; his friends were permitted to address him as "Li Sung Ching." His father was a soldier before him—Colonel Li Tsao Hsiang. In the year 1882, at the age of eighteen, Li the younger passed the entrance examination of the Tientsin Naval College, and after a course of six years he graduated. Soon after the war with Japan he was engaged by Chang Chih Tung, then Viceroy of Nanking, to fortify that city with modern guns, and was also made commander of an important pass near Nanking. In the year 1894 he followed Chang Chih Tung to Hupeh, and was commissioned to train the new army with the aid of a German instructor for three years. He was then sent to Japan to gain experience in defence work. After two years he returned to Wuchang, and was appointed Major of a Cavalry Brigade. In 1902 he was in command of the Kiangyin Navy and Army manoeuvres. Next year he took command of the Infantry Fourth Advance Guard. Two years later he became commander of the Second Division. As soon as the new army was organised he was promoted to be Colonel of the 21st Mixed Brigade, superintending the naval forces in the Yangtze Valley, the Military Academy and four departments of the Hanyang Arsenal, and the Army College. In the same year (1905) he was elected Provisional Commander of the Changte manoeuvres. He led his Mixed Brigade in the year 1911 to join the Autumn Manoeuvres at Taihu. On October 10, 1911, General Li joined the Revolution, as will be seen hereafter, and was elected Military Governor of Hupeh.
CHAPTER V
A PREMATURE OPENING
On October 10, 1911, an ordinary military officer in the Hupeh Army of China stood unflinchingly facing a band of Revolutionists in Wuchang. One was Liu King, a student not long back from Japan—a mere slip of a boy. He was now practically in charge of the Revolution of China, now prematurely, quite haphazardly, broken out, and he sat looking suspiciously at the military man before him. The military man was a colonel. Above his neck glistened half a dozen narrow swords held by dark-clad men who awaited instructions to send into eternity the man whom Fate intervened to make the most noted man in the world-history of our day.
That Colonel was Li Yuan Hung, whose fame within a month reached to the uttermost ends of the earth.
The Revolution, long planned and still maturing, had prematurely broken out. Li Yuan Hung had been chosen as the leader, and now stood offering his apologies to the men who pressed him into office. He was not anxious, he was explaining, to take the honour—of course he was not, for who knew that that small military revolt at Wuchang was to move the whole of the eighteen provinces of China? Li thought it was not worth while. His fate would be sealed at once, for the Model Army of China merely cut the heads off of any in its ranks who rebelled against military discipline. So he demurred that the honour was too great for him—he would rather that another, more able and experienced, should be invited to the leadership. More heavily those cold swords were pressed against his neck. Then it seemed as if another minute would find his head rolling to the floor. But he was given another chance. He was told in stern tones that he was the leader of the Revolution, that he must agree or else he would be decapitated immediately. But the Colonel still stolidly refused. Before the order was finally given to strike with those glistening swords the man was given one more chance. He agreed. The swords were raised, and at that moment the curtain rose and showed China in revolt to the world. Li Yuan Hung's behaviour after that fateful night when he stood so near his grave showed the wisdom of the choice of the man of all men who in this land of the passing Celestial did more to free China from the fetters of the past than any other man dead or living.
A CAPTURED BOMB-MAKER.
One of those responsible for the premature outbreak of the Revolution.
It was not until long after the month of October, however, that men were able accurately to ascertain how the Revolution broke. Newspaper men with special passes, and on the scent for news, each buttonholed their man, hoping to get the story of why the revolt occurred so long before the appointed time. Every intelligent onlooker saw that sooner or later a great upheaval would come to China—some even got to know that it could not take a very great time before the extensive plans were fully matured—and then the blow would be struck, and China, tottering against forces far too strong for her, would be shaken to her very vitals. But when the signal for the military to rise was actually given, and when the whole of Hupeh's Army did rise, almost as one man, the newspaper men and those who thought they had been watching closely were lifted off their feet. And then there started throughout the world a long string of newspaper hazards as to who was responsible and how the thing had been done. But the story did not leak through. The most careful guesswork failed to get anywhere near the truth, for the correspondents of American and European newspapers had not been behind the scenes, and knew little of what was passing in the early days of October, They knew nothing of the little affair that had happened in the Russian Concession of Hankow. Europeans in Hankow, as a matter of fact, knew nothing about the affair until the newspapers wrote up a short story of it, and on the morning it appeared no one seemed to attach any great importance to what they read. They did not realise that what the Revolutionary party of China had been planning had prematurely fused, and that now there was nothing to do but for the leaders of the movement to take the plunge—hit or miss, as might be. The short newspaper report read as follows, and was printed modestly alongside other general matter:—
"The detonation of a bomb on the Russian Concession yesterday afternoon was responsible for the discovery of a revolutionary element, the existence of which had hitherto not been suspected. At 4 p.m. the police in the neighbourhood of the Russian Municipal Building were startled by a loud report which, it was apparent, emanated from the native houses at the back of the German butchery. A rush was made to the neighbourhood, and in the compound of No. 14 two Chinese were discovered throwing kerosene around, apparently just preparing to set fire to the establishment. These were put quickly under restraint, and a survey of the premises revealed the fact that all the elements of a nice little revolutionary club were present. Bombs already made, acids for their making, revolutionary pamphlets, and a list of names which bore a strong resemblance to the members' roll, gave testimony to the use to which the houses and the compound had been put. It is surmised that the bomb went off accidentally, and the inmates, fearing a visit by the police, attempted to set their place on fire. That their attempts were frustrated is due to the promptitude of the police, who, in addition to the two arrests already mentioned, tried to arrest four men who approached the place in a suspicious manner soon after the explosion; these, however, made their escape. At the Russian police-station, where at a late hour last evening[[1]] a representative of the Hankow Dally News was making inquiries, two Chinese, a man and a woman, were being examined, they having attempted to gain ingress to a suspected house. Like the two men arrested, they, were turned over to the Hsia Kao Ting,[[2]] whose representative had been quickly called to the spot. The Viceroy had already sent a deputy, a naval officer, from Wuchang, and together with the local officials he was busy attempting to unravel the mysteries connected with the revolutionary quarters. Among the articles seized by the police were revolutionary flags, as well as maps of Wuchang and plans apportioning various bodies of revolutionists to their positions for attack on the Wuchang gates. At a late hour last night everything in the neighbourhood of the scene was quiet, and not a soul was in sight except the Russian police, who are to be heartily congratulated on their discovery and the efficient manner in which they handled the situation."
Now, the man whose carelessness in making the bomb caused the premature explosion in the Russian Concession and forced the Revolutionary party to make their coup before they were ready was one Sun Wu, an expert bomb-maker. He bears the marks of the explosion to this day. Sun Wu was taken away immediately by his friends and concealed until he was well enough to join his comrades. One of his comrades was the aforementioned Liu King, who later became Inspector-General of the Republican Government of Hupeh. Liu King's wife was the woman who had undertaken to throw the bomb with which the Revolution was to be started. The story is a most fascinating one, and nothing better can be done at the moment than to reproduce the story as told to a newspaper man long after the great war had seemed to be fairly well settled in favour of the Republicans. Liu's personal appearance proclaims him an extremist, said the report. He is a young man, about thirty, with unusual eagerness in his eyes, wears foreign civilian clothes and gold-rimmed spectacles, has a moustache but, of course, no queue. He comes from a family of scholars among the gentry of Siangyang, in North Hupeh. If he had not gone to Japan, he would probably have been a scholar of the old Chinese type and an official, also of the old type, with a boughten office. In fact, it was whispered that many thousands of taels which he used in the Revolutionary cause were given him by relatives in the expectation that he would buy a taotaiship (magistracy).
In Japan Liu went through both the law course and the military. It is ten years since he first took up revolutionary work. But he did not claim to have done anything very effective till he met Dr. Sun Yat Sen. Here is the story just about as he told it in Chinese:—[[3]]
"It was about six years ago that Sun Yat Sen came to Japan. I was studying at the time in the Tungwen College. All the Chinese students welcomed Sun with the utmost enthusiasm. He organised among us a Society called the 'Tung Ming Hwei,' of which I was a member. The aim of this Society was to move the people of China to realise the shame of being ruled by aliens, and to stir them up to win their freedom. We published a weekly magazine, the People, in which we showed how corrupt, tyrannical, and impotent was the Manchu Government, giving instances of the inhumanity and injustice with which the Manchus had treated our people in the past. We urged reasons why the Chinese people should take revenge on behalf of their ancestors, thus proving their filial piety. We urged that the Chinese should strive to make themselves the equals of other peoples, who looked down upon them simply because they were enslaved by the Manchus. The People became very influential, and nearly all its readers in China and abroad realised that they were slaves, and wanted to free themselves. But the paper did not live long. The Manchu Government complained to the Japanese against its publication, and Japan, wishing to strengthen her friendship with the Chinese Government, suppressed it. We then organised another department, called the Kung Ching (meaning 'Advance together'). The duty of this department was to send agents to the various provinces to inspire the soldiers and scholars with revolutionary spirit and patriotism, and others to Chinese settlements abroad to raise funds. I was twice elected president of this department while I was studying at the Tungping Military College.
"The Revolutionary agents had friends among the military officers throughout China, so that it was easy for them to get into touch with the soldiers. Even if the officers refused to help, they were so friendly with the agents that they would not betray them. So it was very seldom that viceroys or governors were successful in arresting Revolutionists.
"After graduating from the military college and the law college I returned to Hupeh in the sixth moon (July), 1910. I came to Wuchang and found that all the Revolutionary agents had taken flight, owing to the strict search made for them by Viceroy Jui Cheng. I was greatly disappointed. A little later I became sick, and went to my home in Siangyang. The illness was a long one; I was not able to leave my bed till the third moon (May, 1911). I came here but found I was too weak for work, so I returned home for two months. In the fifth moon I came back here, bringing ten thousand taels given me by my family. I took a house beside the middle school in Wuchang. We took care to keep everything very secret. We had various retreats in Wuchang and Hankow, and our headquarters was in the camp of the sappers and miners' corps.
"Sun Wu had been working among the soldiers, and we knew that we could rely on the sappers and miners and the artillerymen. For some time the soldiers were timid, and, though they were eager to revolt against the Manchus, they were unwilling to give a definite promise to join the Revolution at a fixed time. We held secret meetings, and at last we found that the only way to induce some of them was to threaten that they would be blown up with bombs if they did not join.
"We had planned to begin the Revolution in December—simultaneously in eight provinces. We had drawn up lists showing the amount of the funds in the provincial treasuries, so that we knew the amount we should probably have to begin operations with. My wife, who is a zealous Revolutionist and who recently went to Shanghai to organise a corps of women soldiers, had undertaken to disguise herself as a poor pedlar-woman in order that she might throw a bomb at the Viceroy. That was to be the beginning of the Revolution. Sun Wu and myself were experts in the manufacture of bombs. On the night of October 9th Sun was making a bomb when, by some carelessness, he allowed it to explode. This betrayed our plot before we were ready. That was at the Russian Concession in Hankow. Russian policemen came to our place and seized our plant, together with proclamations we had prepared, dispatches to the foreign consulates, private letters, a list of the revolutionists, and a large number of badges. These badges had a design like that now used on the Republican military flag."
A QUEUELESS BRIGADE.
A great feature of the Revolution was the discarding
of the pigtail. Barbers were kept busy for many days
shearing the revolutionaries.
Most of the story of that night and the following day is already known to the world. Sun Wu's face was badly wounded in the explosion, and he was concealed by friends, who saw to it that he got proper treatment until he had recovered sufficiently to rejoin his comrades. Liu King's family was then living in the native city at Hankow. He had long been suspected, and when the news of the explosion was received his wife and brother were arrested. He had himself escaped from the house in the Russian Concession. Several arrests followed during the night, and the following morning four men were executed. Liu's brother was not among them, for the reason that the Viceroy was having him tortured to induce him to reveal Liu's hiding-place. Two of the leading agents of the Revolution, Liu Yao-chen and Run Chung-yung, were among those arrested on the 10th. Liu King had tried to start the Revolution at midnight on the 9th, but had failed.
"I saw we should all be ruined if we did not begin at once," said Liu, "but the soldiers had no badge, so they did not revolt. The next morning (October 10th) I wrote to them that if the Viceroy found the list of their names contained among our papers he would certainly disarm and execute them all. They replied that they were not afraid, and it was only because they had no badges that they had failed to begin the Revolution. I then gave instructions that any white band round the arm should be used as a badge, and that the Revolution should begin at ten o'clock that night—the time fixed by the Viceroy for the execution of my brother.
"The sappers and miners did not wait for the appointed time but began their work at half-past seven. They sent men at once to watch all the gates. The artillerymen, camped outside the city, heard the firing and realised what had happened. They entered the city and occupied the Choawangtai (where the magazine was), the Hwanghwalo (the promontory overlooking the river), and the Serpent Hill. They intended to shell the Viceroy's yamen, but soldiers went to the yamen and found that the Viceroy had escaped through a hole dug in a back wall. As all the gates were held by Revolutionists, he must have got over the wall by a rope.
"The sappers and miners went to the camps of the other corps and told the men they must join the mutiny or fight. Practically all joined, with the exception of part of the Commissariat Corps and about 250 soldiers, who fled with Chang Piao.[[4]]
"I had come to Wuchang from Hankow, and we called a meeting at the magazine. The Revolutionary agents decided not to elect one of their own number as commander."
Then followed in the interview a short description of the manner in which Li Yuan Hung had been raised to the position of Leader of the Revolution of China.
* * * * *
The following leader, printed in the London Times as soon as the Revolution broke, shows how great a surprise was given to the world. It also shows how utterly unprepared China herself seemed in the eyes of the world to be for the change that so suddenly shook the fundamentals of her Government:—'
"A rising, which is manifestly very serious," said the Times editorial, "has taken place at Wuchang, the great city in the province of Hupeh which seemed destined to become the centre of the Chinese railway system and of the internal trade of the Empire. How serious it may prove to be and how serious the movement from which it springs are matters on which Europeans have but few materials for judgment. We have not sufficient information to show whether the present insurrection is connected with the disturbances in Szechwan which looked threatening enough a month ago. If they are their significance, it need hardly be said, would be materially increased, but even if they are both altogether local they are symptomatic of the general instability of the actual situation. Two years hence a full Parliament of the Empire is to be convoked, and a Ministry responsible to it is to be appointed—so at least the Imperial Edict of last November has promised. The results of so tremendous an innovation cannot be looked forward to without misgivings. Is China, the oldest, and to all outward seeming one of the most effete, of Oriental monarchies, fit for so vast a change? The reception of the Edict of last year does not argue well for the future. The National Assembly, which had unanimously demanded this very reform, denounced it as too tardy the moment it was granted. Yet surely three years was not too long a time for China to prepare herself for constitutional government. There is much that is admirable in the Young China party. They realise the absolute necessity of reform, and many of them desire it out of genuine patriotism. But hitherto they have shown no sense of prospective, no powers of leadership, and no gift of construction. Last year one of their number, himself a subordinate official, who would certainly lose by a change, blurted out to a European in a moment of confidence that in his opinion nothing could save the country but a bloody revolution, making a clean sweep of everything. That was in the city of Wuchang. Is the present insurrection an attempt to save China in this way, and if it is, what popular force is behind it, or will gather behind it, unless it is immediately quelled? A good deal for us and for all European Powers with interests in the Far East depends on the answer."
[[1]] October 10, 1911.
[[2]] A small magistrate.
[[3]] See Central China Post, January 15, 1912.
[[4]] Chang Piao was the General in command of the Hupeh Army, who took the field in the first engagement of the war, and who was interviewed by the author, as printed on page 61.
CHAPTER VI
THE EARLY HOSTILITIES
Thus did China's Revolution start. Event followed event during the first days with such startling rapidity that it became a matter of difficulty to keep trace consecutively of events. On October 13th the Hanyang Arsenal, the largest in the Empire, passed into the hands of the Revolutionists. A large body of soldiers indistinguishable from loyal troops arrived in several units from Wuchang. They entered the Hanyang city quietly and, donning the Revolutionary badge, proceeded with their work. The powder factory was seized at 1 a.m. and the arsenal fell soon after, only a few shots being fired. In the arsenal were found no fewer than 140 three-inch guns, about 500,000 rounds of ammunition, and powder sufficient for the manufacture of 2,000,000 rounds. This amount, together with 32,000,000 rounds of rifle ammunition and 5,000 rounds of field-gun ammunition, which were known to be stored near Wuchang, gave the rebels enough to carry on with for some time. Hankow native city soon afterwards fell, and with its fall the Revolutionists found themselves in possession of three of the finest strategical points in the whole of China.
Meantime nothing had been heard of the foreigners in Wuchang, and as the gates were closed and huge conflagrations were seen during the next couple of days it was thought that the affair might develop into an anti-foreign rising. Crowds gathered on the Bund and gazed anxiously through field-glasses over the river for signs of the foreigners, but it was not until October 12th that a steam-launch, conveying Captain Knepper, of the U.S.A. Helena, some foreigners and American blue-jackets, and flying the American flag, left in the early morning for Wuchang. In the afternoon the naval officers were cheered as they steamed alongside the Bund at Hankow, with practically all the foreigners and about 150 Christian girls from the various schools.
For the next few days there was the greatest activity on both sides—among the Revolutionists and the Loyalists. With wildest enthusiasm the Revolutionists prosecuted their aims in Wuchang, in Hanyang, and in Hankow. The Government banks were ransacked of all silver and burned to the ground, all Government offices were looted, Revolutionary troops were stationed in the three cities, and for some days there was no doubt about the sovereignty of the rebels in this neighbourhood. The two armies touched for the first time on October 19th, but even this was a one-sided affair, because General Chang Piao, the head of the Hupeh army, had but a handful of men, and stood from the first no chance whatever against the overwhelming numbers of the enemy. Foreigners were able only to see in this a local revolt, but it very soon became apparent that the Revolution had taken hold of China and that the rebelling forces of Hupeh were soon to gather many other provinces under their banner. Such unity was never seen in China before as the first days of the revolt brought to light.
Then the war began.
After this first slight engagement there was a rare ado with the Revolutionary army and supporters as the victorious regiments marched into the city, and this victory over Chang Piao and his men, apart from having the effect of completely routing the enemy, added a tremendous stimulus to the fighting line of the Republicans, and they were then itching for another scrap. The Loyalists had come down from Peking. They were expected to turn over to the Revolutionists. But they did not—they intended to fight, and to fight hard. In the first engagement, however, after having had taken from them their bullion with which the troops were to be paid, their rice and supplies by which the men were to be fed, the ammunition by which the throne was to be kept secure, and much else in the way of impedimenta of warfare, they retired crestfallen and moved some considerable distance down the river.
TYPICAL REVOLUTIONARIES.
Changed by love of country and passion for freedom
from downtrodden coolies to enthusiastic soldiers.
Before dawn on the morning of October 20th I took my launch down towards Kilometre Ten, the Revolutionary base, where the Loyalists were said to have crept up during the night. It looked as if they had regained courage, and were to put up another fight. I found a party of Revolutionary recruits and regulars, all having a good time, whilst lessons were being given to the raw material in the art of using the rifle. The target was a couple of pigs, and into the hides of these two innocent porkers the recruits were endeavouring to discharge their bullets. Passing them, I followed on through a road which at one time had been the main entrance to the station, all being now in anything but perfect order, into the station, where some fifteen hundred troops were assembled on the platform and in the adjoining ground—the scene of the recent battle.
To my companion (representing the New York Herald) and myself the Revolutionists were most courteous. Whilst we preferred to stand, they bade us to be seated, a couple leading us to a point on the platform where was seated the Commander-in-Chief of the Field Forces, a portly fellow, full and hearty, typically Chinese, delighted to see us. Down below were the field-guns and the dark-clad troops, battered railway trucks, officers' horses grazing by the line, men rushing hither and thither, all enthusiastic upon getting something done and wasting no time. But here was the Commander-in-Chief—the Buller of the campaign—calm, quiet, courteous, extending to me with the simplicity of a boy the usual Chinese felicities. He was seated in his official war-chair, had upon him all the paraphernalia of war, and waited as he talked with me for his scouts to return before he could make up his mind what the day's programme was to be.
Allow us to take his photograph?—certainly he would, and stood up and put on a straight face purposely for the occasion, waving back a scout who hurriedly came in whilst I snapped a picture. Then he attended to the scouting parties, taking careful notes of all that they told him. I wished to exchange cards—delighted, he would do it in a moment, and wrote his full name on the back. He laughed over the simplest incident, was exceedingly solicitous on my behalf, assured me that they would win; when he spoke of battle his face hardened, his keen eyes sparkled, full of fire. His aide-de-camp, quite a youngster, dressed in a foreign tweed suit—queueless, of course—and bearing no traces whatever that he was an army official, gave us all the news he could. He waved his hands to the captured railroad trucks, containing the captured supplies, and asked us blandly if we could solve the problem of living without food—because he couldn't, and he didn't suppose that the Loyalists could. "And they won't," he vociferated. But that was in the early days of the war. During those days it was interesting to any fair-minded foreigner to watch the intensity of feeling displayed by the Revolutionary Army as opposed to the downhearted attitude of the small Imperial force which took the field.
On the same morning that I interviewed the Revolutionary Commander of the Field Forces I was successful in discovering that General Chang Piao was on board a launch down-river. I immediately made off by launch to see him. As I sat soon afterwards by the side of this Chang Piao, the man in all Hupeh who had been entrusted with the authority of the Model Army, and looked at a medium-sized Chinese who gave no evidence of being a common soldier by anything in his dress, and as I looked at his unshaven head and bloodshot eyes, I could not find it in my heart to extend to him anything but genuine pity. He recently had been a strong man, high in office, and dazzled with braid and buttons and all official paraphernalia which to-day is thought so much of in military China; now he was a crestfallen man, knowing that he had lost, cut off from all supplies, with a helpless army on his hands, and himself knowing that fifty thousand Chinese dollars were being offered for his head. With some little difficulty I had jumped on board, asked for Chang Daren, and was shown into the cabin aft, where I found some dozen or so officers eating their morning rice. Towards me came a man dressed in an ordinary teacher's garb; he extended his nervous hand, and with ceremony bade me enter. His name he told me was Chang—this, then, was the man, General Chang Piao, erstwhile Commander-in-Chief of the Hupeh Model Army.
A well-built fellow, some five feet six or seven, with hard, determined mouth, and a chin of iron, was Chang Piao; his jet-black eyes looked suspiciously out at us. By the side of the General as he sat, one leg up under him in real Chinese fashion, stood a guard of soldiers with loaded pieces; in front of us as we talked were seated the dishevelled officers and staff of the General, some on upturned boxes, some on the settee (which had been the General's resting-place), some on the floor, all busy with their rice-bowls and chopsticks.
At first Chang looked at me in apparent unconcern. Then—
"Where do you come from? What do you want? What nationality are you?" These questions came from him as quickly as he could put them.
"I shall not do any fighting at all to-day," he said. "My scouts are all around the country-side, and my troops, some three thousand of them—and all good men, far better than the rebels—are lying in ambush away at Niekow. I shall wait for the arrival of Yin Chang,[[1]] who is coming with twenty thousand troops, and Admiral Sah, who is waiting for more ammunition."
Chang Piao made no reference to his adversary, General Li Yuan Hung, and did not seem inclined to encourage talk about the opposing side. Later, however, in the midst of the small talk, he referred very sympathetically to the Revolutionists, and was confident that they would rue the day when they broke out into rebellion. He continued: "It will not be long before we shall be able to win. There will, at any rate, not be any serious fighting for four days, but when Sah has his big guns' ammunition sent to him, and we have ours and our twenty thousand drilled troops, the position will change speedily."
Imperial troops now began to pour down from the north. Their headquarters were made at a place called Niekow, a small village, situated at the end of a big S bend in the railway leading out from Kilometre Ten, and about six miles away. Their first attack was made on the morning of October 25th, the Revolutionists taking up their position at the Government Paper Mill, situated below the Kilometre Ten Station, and near the Seven Mile Creek. People would point away in a northerly direction and tell you that over there were the Loyalists—twelve thousand, fifteen thousand, seventeen thousand, twenty thousand of them, mobilised for action. But no one actually knew; every one merely guessed. True it was that on the previous day several hair-brained adventurers went so far forward as to tempt the Loyalist outposts into shooting at them, and then set the Concessions talking about their internationality and how the Loyalists were bent on shooting every foreigner they could catch.
THE RAW MATERIAL OF THE REVOLUTIONARY ARMY.
"Enlisted on Tuesday, drilled on Wednesday, shot on Thursday,"
was often the record of a revolutionary recruit.
It was some days previous that my launchman had refused point blank to convey me near the scene of action. Therefore was it that at dawn I was astir by the riverside at Hankow hailing a sampan, the men who were willing to go down-river demanding, in hoarse voices, exorbitant charges to get me near the fight if there was to be one. Having sufficiently argued the point and boarded a boat, however, we soon came to the firing-line, to the Revolutionary base, having been questioned by the sentries along the riverside as to who we were and what our business was. We rowed down to the Government Paper Mill, up a tributary to the main river, and landed. But no one was to be seen as we walked haphazardly onwards for some minutes, our only obstacle being a poor, one-eyed wretch trying to sell us some of the Loyalist ammunition and empty shells, at ridiculous prices as curios go.
Suddenly, however, there was an enormous explosion, which nearly broke our eardrums, and we knew that operations were commencing. Coming to an open space, we discovered small parties of infantry under cover of undulations in the ground, and slightly to the north, raised from the ground, were the field-guns. I was now between the river and the railway, and, with the other men around me, who told me to "duck," as they expected a rapid return of the enemy's shells, waited for the Loyalists' return. Then, after some minutes, a little dancing flame, a little column of blue smoke, a dull, heavy boom, and a continued whistle in the air, told us that the enemy had started. With my glasses I watched anxiously for the shells, which fell short. With terrific force they dropped into swampy ground some five hundred yards in front of us, sending up the water most picturesquely. There was a laugh from the Revolutionists around me as I reported the news to them, and they lay still in their positions, waiting, they hardly knew for what.
Going up to the field-guns, several of which had been brought down by a train now unloading, I found that there were ten four-inchers, most of which had the range beautifully. There were also Rexers, Maxims, and smaller fry.
Of the Loyalists, even with the aid of good field-glasses, nothing could be seen. Their camp at Niekow—some considerable distance to the north—was plainly visible, and the shooting was directed across the top of that S bend in the line; and thus it continued for another half an hour, the Loyalist guns failing to find their range and falling short. Ear-pads there were none; other ordinary equipment war correspondents carry I had none, so lay down as the guns shot and wrote my copy. Suddenly there was a sharp, deadly firing of Rexers, more deadly than the Maxim, and after that no sound. The rebels fell to jubilant congratulation, declaring that they had silenced the enemy, and that they could move forward and chase them. But they had misreckoned. Of officers among the Revolutionary men there were many. But of order I saw nothing. Each man did as he pleased and went where he pleased and when. Each gave orders and counter-suggestions to one another, and none was prepared for following up the engagement in its several possible turns.
And now their misreckoning was to be forced home. Dancing high above the earth, truly denoting danger to come, was the blue flame of the enemy. The releasing boom was heard, the whizz-z-z of the shell became noisier as it sailed through the air towards us; each instinctively bent his head and waited for the shell to burst. Then came the bursting directly above us in mid-air, telling that one gun at least—certainly the biggest in the field—had got the range. In and around the firing-line of the Revolutionists there was a "Hiyah!" Some of the men rose immediately, slung their rifles over their backs, looked round anxiously for their comrades, and made to run; others still stayed on. But the enemy, now sure of the range, lost no time. In deadly succession shell after shell was put into the men who were fighting for the establishment of the model Republic. At the time, however, the Republic seemed far away.
Several shells as I stooped behind some brickwork broke directly in front of us, tearing up the red earth of the line. Simultaneously others broke above our heads, and the shrapnel descended in a deadly shower. So far as I could see, no one yet had been wounded, certainly no one killed. But at this moment I decided to go, simultaneously, it appeared, with many scores of the Revolutionist infantry. For in a couple of minutes, as I sprinted along the river bank, making for some decent cover, I found myself perilously running in the middle of a most disordered rabble of several hundred men, each doing as he liked. Some held their rifles high in the air, some pointed them onward at their fellows, others dragged them after them—and none was there to give them orders. Meantime, as we ran, shells were dropping around us. We could hear sharp "pings" on the corrugated roofs of the buildings we were passing, and all were glad when out of range.
In the village at the foot of the V-shaped ground we met many more of the Revolutionists, some gunners, some infantry, who had fled.
All decided that they had been routed; some asked whether the guns had been deserted, and were told that they had; and one, in an eminently Chinese way, made a small purchase of ten cash worth of nuts from an old woman by the roadside, arguing in the heat of battle as to whether he should give her ten or eight cash, and filling his knapsack, whilst his more excited comrades discussed the plan of subsequent events.
Thus had the rebels been reversed, completely beaten at the game they themselves had started. The reverse, however, or rather the loss of their position, taught them a valuable lesson.
THE CENTRAL MART OF THE WORLD.
Thus do the Chinese describe Hankow.
In the foreground is a small section of the Hanyang Steel
and Iron Works. Across the River Han the city of Hankow is seen.
[[1]] General Yin Chang, President of the Board of War—a man who was trained in Germany. He has a German wife.
CHAPTER VII
THE BATTLE OF KILOMETRE TEN
After these first hostilities men and things began to move with lightning rapidity. By October 27th the Loyalists, strongly reinforced by Imperial troops from the north, held the situation fairly well, fighting with remarkable persistence. What passed during that day and those immediately ensuing should prove a lesson to the Western world. Warfare opened at dawn, and the Imperialists, fighting against a strongly entrenched army of Revolutionists numerically superior but not so well commanded, won a complete victory. The Revolutionists fought bravely, and their losses were heavy.
As will be seen in detail later in this volume, the Revolutionists were expecting the Imperial troops to join them as soon as the real cause of the fighting became known to them, for it was a vital part of the Imperial policy to keep the northern troops in ignorance of the nature of the revolt. The Revolutionists openly declared themselves disappointed. But as a matter of fact, even if the Imperialists had been willing to join, there was no opportunity presented to them. The arrangement of their troops was such that the Honan and Shantung soldiers were in front with the Manchus directly behind them. This was a cleverly designed manoeuvre on the part of the Manchu officers that worked for the success of the Loyalists. The Honan men could neither lay down their arms nor turn back—even if they so wished. An attempt to join the enemy would have brought upon them the fire of the Manchus, and the steady advance of the latter prevented any reverse movement.
Foreign military observers who witnessed the battle of Kilometre Ten unite in saying that the Imperialists made their attack and continued it in the face of stubborn resistance and in the most scientific manner, advancing steadily under the cover of their artillery. From a position some quarter of a mile south of the Kilometre Ten station, the Revolutionary base, I watched for some three hours hardest musketry and artillery fire. The deadly warfare raged across a wide stretch of country lying to the north-east of the Revolutionary headquarters, over swampy ricefields and half-cultivated ground. Big four-inchers opened fire just before seven on a cold, grey morning, and both armies, having moved slightly to the front, were within easy rifle fire of each other. The Revolutionary Army had spread itself in the shape of a right angle, with the bigger guns at either point, and strong lines of enthusiastic infantry entrenched on the north side of the railway line and well fortified behind stone embankments and undergrowth along the river abreast of Kilometre Ten and for some distance below on towards the oil-tanks of the Asiatic Petroleum Company, Ltd.
The Imperialists, returning the Revolutionary gun-fire with marked precision, found their range with the fourth shrapnel, the Revolutionists taking much longer, and having nothing more than the ordinary 1¾ and 3 inch explosives—their great need was shrapnel.
Far across the field was one bank of ever-increasing smoke, and of necessity shooting was vague. But both armies, with an earnestness and energy that one was not accustomed to see in Chinese, kept up smart riflery for two hours, with hardly a moment's lull, showing that the Chinese Model Army, if boasting little else, can boast of men who face battle without flinching. For two hours, at the very edge of the field, I watched operations through my glasses, and then saw Admiral Sah's fleet coming up-river slowly—it had been creeping up for some time. At first it was thought that the Revolutionary guns known to be at Kinshan, a point on the other side of the river almost opposite Yanglo, would open fire upon the fleet, but this did not happen, and not during the whole of the day was there any firing from that side of the river. Shells from both camps were being sent out at a terrific rate. Those from the Imperial Army were seen to be bursting with deadly effect in the Revolutionary ranks, and the poor fellows who were willing to seal the Republic with their blood were seen to fall in hundreds.
THE FLIGHT OF THE GUN-JUNKS.
These old-style revolutionary gunboats scudded away
at the Battle of Kilometre Ten when Admiral Sah opened fire.
For some half-hour it was impossible in the din and the smoke from the firing, added to the fact that both armies were magnificently entrenched, to tell which side was doing the more deadly work, but for more than two hours the rattle of musketry, of Rexer machine guns, of Maxims, and three and four inch guns told one that the death-roll must be tremendous. Such incessant rattle was not known even in the Russo-Japanese War. Suddenly the fleet moved upwards. No one seemed to take notice of the move or to attach great importance to it. A small village below the Japanese Bund was as peaceful as if battle was removed a thousand miles from it, and the villagers, preparing their morning rice, paid but little heed to the gradually nearing musketry. To myself there came a fear that from my temporary resting-place I should soon have to shift. Down behind the stones at the Kilometre Ten station I could then see the Revolutionary troops beginning to rise and prepare for a withdrawal. Simultaneously, from the railway away to the north, three companies of regular troops, well in command and meaning business, came down, orderly enough, marched out into the open field, knelt, and prepared for fire. But what at? Eyes had been taken from the gun-boats, which were now within such distance that their operations could easily be seen with the naked eye. They were evidently preparing to sweep the decks of the cruisers with rifle-shot if they came within firing distance. Field-guns appeared to be all forward with the main fighting line, and this batch of infantry was all that was available.
The Revolutionary army was drawn up over a very wide area, stretching from the river bank above Kilometre Ten to a point far over away from the other side of the railway, the whole forming a right angle with three main fortified points, and in between were companies of infantry entrenched. The shells from the Loyalists, put in from several guns over the whole of the enemy's right angle, were tearing the ranks to pieces. This could be seen through the glasses. But gradually the fighting came nearer. The men who were fighting for the establishment of their Republic were being slowly driven back. First one company would move a little back, kneel again, and whole-heartedly recommence musketry fire. But the moment came, not much after 9.30 a.m., when it became apparent that the ships were going to add their quota—and all too deadly a quota as it transpired—to rout the Revolutionists. First came a terrific boom, which rent the air, even though all the firing round about ceased not for a moment. There seemed then in the air to be for a single moment a silence boding terrible evil. There was another bang; the shell burst right in the railway—just in the station which had been the pride of the Revolutionary forces as their formidable base—a flame was seen to go up from one of the buildings in the front, and the Admiral saw that he had got his range.
THE EFFECT OF A NAVAL BOMBARDMENT.
This populous village was burned to the ground in the first
engagement of Admiral Sah's fleet with revolutionary army.
For an army well trained in the arts of war, old veterans of modern warfare, it would be a brave thing, perhaps foolhardy, to endeavour to stand before an army equal to itself and a naval force whose strength was unknown. Much more would it be to expect it of an army, a great percentage made up of raw recruits, who had hardly handled a rifle before this Revolution broke out. At the time of which I am writing this was the position of the Revolutionary Army. From the land forces they could expect as much as they could tackle with the forces they had then at their base. It had been a good fight, and they had held their ground well, feeling the need of trained troops. In addition to that, many of the trained troops were shot down by their own men—recruits who had been placed in the rear lines and had shot down the regulars at the front—a most regrettable feature for the Revolutionists during the whole campaign.
Now that warships began to pelt shells into the Revolutionary camp with alarming precision, it seemed hopeless for them. The great majority, however, with marked coolness stuck to their guns.
Over the land came the whistle of Admiral Sah's shells—their effect was terrific. Soon it was seen that the Revolutionists would have to evacuate. To stay in their present situation would have meant only utter disaster, and they saw it was a hopeless task. Many of them came slowly from the ranks, all muddy and disordered, tired and forlorn, and made their way back through the sympathetic villages and along the railway line towards Hankow native city. Then they came away pellmell, and the Imperialists pelted them with shells as they fled. Peking men crept up through the trenches with capital skill, being officered splendidly, and showing by all that they did—gunners and infantry—that they were a modern army, and to be reckoned with. They then came away to the Racecourse; were temporarily beaten back by a ragtail and bobtail crowd of Revolutionists, more ardent than skilful, who had taken up a fresh stand. Firing was recommenced, and the Imperialists, despite the fact that Maxims were turned on them with terrific force, came up through the trenches. Their bravery was one of the wonderful features of the day, and will be handed down in history. Hopelessly were they mown down, brutally were they knocked out by Maxim fire, but they stuck to it and came along in a style British regiments would not look down upon.
"Brothers!" they would exclaim in their ignorance, "we are fighting a pack of robbers and hooligans. We must fight to save our country from unworthy men."
Towards two o'clock, after scouting parties had been working from both sides, they again came to close quarters by the side of the Japanese Concession, and it was feared that the Foreign Concessions would be rushed on the first day's fight. These settlements, however were guarded splendidly—American, Austrian, British, French, German, and Japanese naval contingents being stationed all over the place, with the roads all barricaded, and every measure taken to preserve peace and order.
The number of dead in this battle, as in most of the others, was not known.
Following on the Imperial success earlier in the day, Admiral Sah then sent official intimation to British Rear-Admiral Winsloe, who was nominally in charge of the foreign defences, that he would commence to bombard Wuchang on the morrow at three p.m. A consular circular was sent round to that effect, strongly advising that all women and children should leave. It further said that the foreign gunboats might drop down river, but that full guards would be landed and kept in the Concessions for defence. The volunteers also would remain on duty.
PREPARED FOR EVENTUALITIES.
The Americans on guard at the Foreign Concession
while heavy fighting was going on close by.
It was feared by the foreign community that either side,
when beaten, might make for cover in the Concession.
It was during these days that Admiral Sah played a remarkable game of bluff. The promised bombardment did not come off, and it was afterwards learned that it had never been intended. On board the cruisers there was a shortage of ammunition, among the crew the greatest dissatisfaction was openly expressed; the Admiral was not quite sure that if he bombarded Wuchang he would cause a surrender; he also entertained the feeling that this was a squabble of the land forces, and told the Imperial leaders he thought they should be strong enough to end the affair themselves—and so the days passed by without any serious interference in Wuchang of General Li Yuan Hung's policy of sitting tight. The added moral effect of his holding Wuchang to the Revolution was tremendous: each day brought news of either provincial capitals or "fu" cities throwing in their lot with the Revolution, and Li, far-seeing and tremendously capable, held back the attack the Wuchang garrison was anxious to commence, and concentrated his army on the Hankow side.
Here fighting was being carried on with a pluck which astounded all beholders. The Imperial Army was for the first time since the Chinese Model Army had been organised plunged into real warfare. The Revolutionists—a teeming multitude, it is true—were for the most part raw recruits, men who had never stood before gun-fire, whom one could reasonably have expected to be "gun-shy." But their bravery, because they believed their fight was one for emancipation, from what very few of the raw recruit element knew probably, would have made many an Occidental regiment blush with envy.