In forwarding to Your Excellency the above instructions from my home Government, I also beg to state that, if the Government of China be willing, I am empowered to open negotiations for the protection of the shipping rights of China.

Imagine how disconcerting that reply must have been, since China has never had any ships in the war zone. Still less has she had any that have been or might possibly be sunk. With that excuse cut from under her, she is at present under the painful suspicion that this desire to uphold the sanctity of international law has been imposed from without. One is almost forced to the conclusion that it is imposed by those nations which themselves have been most flagrant violators of international law, upon Chinese territory. But be that as it may.

So much has been happening lately, that perhaps I have forgotten to mention a certain phase of international activity referred to in the German reply, that is, the employment of Chinese subjects behind the firing-lines in Europe. For a year past Chinese coolies have been recruited for service in France, paid of course, though probably not paid liberally, nor told frankly what they are being let in for. The French colonies have also been drafting their subjects for work in France. When we went down to the tropics in December, we traveled on a ship gathering coolies, mobilized not as soldiers but as laborers. The captain of our ship told us that up to date (December, 1916) France had already imported some forty thousand Annamites for work in munition factories, agricultural work, and noncombatant service behind the lines. The ship we were on was carrying some fourteen hundred of these little men, packed like sardines in the hold, which had been transformed into a sort of fifth-rate lodging-house, with tiers of bunks for the accommodation of these little coolies.

Each French ship of this particular line, going through the Mediterranean, carries between a thousand and fourteen hundred of such laborers; and what the effect of this will be upon the next generation of Frenchmen remains to be seen. They were pretty, docile little creatures, to be turned loose in villages and in the provinces, which villages and provinces have been bereft of men these many months, and where no race prejudice exists among the women. Many Frenchmen we have met deplored this state of things, and its probable effect upon the population of France. War is not very pretty, no matter from what angle you look at it. And now that the Chinese are being imported as well, the situation may become worse. An article entitled "China's Gift to the War in Human Labor and Human Life," has this to say:

Of far greater menace to Chinese interests [than the German submarine blockade] is the understanding which the Chinese Government is contemplating to make with France, Russia and Britain, for the despatch of laborers to Europe. The Chinese Government wants to indulge in coolie traffic. Bad business at any time, and worse now.

This business of sending Chinese laborers to these countries has been going on for over a year. It is done without regard to the interests of the people, or the wish of the Government. The companies for organizing the emigration were supposed to be under the inspiration of Mr. Liang-Shih-Yi, who was sure of making a few dollars on every coolie's head. The Chinese who have gone have been with Chinese cognizance, but not under Chinese protection. The business was of private or semi-official character, not of official character.

For several months English missionaries in the province of Shantung have been war-agents of the British Government for securing laborers for France and England. This has been done of late, at least, contrary to the wishes of the Chinese provincial authorities. Thus the English, like the Japanese in Shantung, have been going their own free way, without regard to the Chinese Government. The policy is bad missionary policy; the business is bad missionary business.

However, I ask myself—I who am nothing if not fair-minded—why shouldn't missionaries act as recruiting-agents? What's the use of spending years converting heathen into Christians, if they are not to act as Christians? Why should there be any scruples about enlisting converts for a "Holy War"? They might as well "do their bit" for civilization, Christian civilization. Besides, "the blood of the martyrs is the seed of the Church." Moreover, the Treaty of Tientsin, in 1858, which legalized the sale of British opium, also legalized the practice of Christianity in China.[3]

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 3: See Appendix II.]



X

DUST AND GOSSIP

I don't suppose a country can go to war, without first having a war spirit. If the enemy doesn't rouse this spirit, doesn't provoke it, then some one else must. The ideal war, I suppose, is the one in which the enemy furnishes the incentive. Poor old China has now got to go to war, but it is mighty uphill work to create the war feeling. Since Germany has not provoked it, it must be manufactured somehow, and the task is now devolving upon those foreign influences which will benefit if China goes to war. They are getting to work rapidly and adroitly, but the situation requires some diplomacy. It is so difficult to incite feeling against one foreign nation without inciting it against them all. The poor Chinese can't distinguish. They can't understand why they should be especially irate against Germany at the moment, when rankling uppermost in their minds is the recent French grab of Lao Hsi Kai, and the still more recent deal of the Shanghai Opium Combine. It is so difficult to fan the flame yet not cause too great a conflagration. It requires nice discrimination, and these poor old heathen minds have a quaint logic of their own. The game is amusing, interesting, from the standpoint of the detached onlooker.

Roughly speaking, the people of a nation may be grouped into two classes, the inciters and the fighters. They are not the same people, as a rule. The inciters usually work in the rear, as noncombatants or molders of public opinion. In China—China being what it is, in the circumstances, and all—the noncombatants who have assumed this task of arousing the war spirit are foreigners. A delicate task, this arousing resentment against one set of foreigners without arousing it against all. It means diplomacy of the first water. Thus, the foreign press is very insistent that the Huns be got rid of. One English paper naively remarks: "We do not like to see Germans free to wander about our streets at will." Which is well enough in its way, although it must be galling to the Chinese to have outsiders refer to the streets of China as "ours." Americans would resent such a remark made by a foreigner concerning the streets of New York.

If only the European nations had been as decent to China as America has been! Then, in this crisis, China would have turned to them, been guided by them, with the same trust that she places in America. As it is, she distrusts all Europe to the core.

And over all this whirling dust of rumor and gossip, hatred and ill feeling, there has been raging for the past three days a physical dust-storm of tremendous intensity. The yellow, overhead kind, sifting downward in clouds of powder, and covering everything, inside and out. The China-boys about the hotel tell us with superstitious awe that when a dust-storm lasts more than three days it is "bad joss." Such a storm, of a week's duration, preceded the outbreak of the Chinese-Japanese War. Every one feels uneasy, the whole atmosphere is full of depression, tension, and suspense. One can't think or talk of anything but this impending disaster.

This afternoon we went out for a while to forget it, if we could. We went to the Lung Fu-Ssu, a sort of rag-fair held every ten days in the grounds of an old temple in the East City. It's a wonderful fair, usually, with booths and stalls stretching in every direction, and spreading all over the ground, underfoot as well. Everything is sold at this bazaar, everything made in China or ever made in China, to-day or in the remote past,—porcelain, bronzes, jade, lacquer, silks, clothing, toys, fruits, food, curios, dogs and cats. Three times a month everything of every description finds its way to the Lung Fu-Ssu, and three times a month all foreign Peking, to say nothing of native Peking, finds its way to the temple grounds to look for bargains. To-day, however, it wasn't much fun: neither the native city nor the legation quarter were out in force, for the dust was too thick, the air too cold.

Indefatigable bargain-hunters as we were, we could not stay long; but I don't believe it was because of the overwhelming dust: it was just sheer nervous anxiety to get back to the hotel for the latest news. We are all restless and anxious, and withal feel ourselves so utterly impotent to avert this impending calamity. Therefore, as I say, we didn't stay long at the fair,—just long enough for me to buy a pair of little, ancient, dilapidated stone lions, which the man assured me were of the Ming dynasty. My first venture into Ming. They looked it, anyway, when I bought them. I laid them at my feet in a newspaper, and—I suppose the jolting of the rickshaw did it—when we reached the hotel, the Ming had all rubbed off. They were stone lions of the purest plaster.

We found a note from the minister asking us in for tea, so we brushed ourselves hastily and went over to the legation to find a large crowd of dusty people assembled, in the beautiful, spacious drawing-rooms. Every one was talking politics, discussing the situation fore and aft, and, as usual, arriving nowhere. At the end of an hour there was a stir caused by the arrival of C——, one of the young, important Members of Parliament. He stood surrounded by an enquiring group, hands hidden up the capacious sleeves of his crackling brocade coat, while he sucked in his breath with hissing noises, in deference to the honorable company. "Good news!" he exclaimed, "good news! Or so I think you'll find it! We have just decided to break with Germany!"

There wasn't what you'd call rejoicing; instead, his rather hilarious announcement was greeted with a sort of constrained silence. It's such a tremendous thing for any country to declare war, and for a country in China's position it is such a blind leap into the abyss. However, the matter is not yet quite decided: the first vote is taken, but the final has yet to be cast. Parliament has been sitting all day. This, of course, merely means the severance of diplomatic relations, but the next step must follow as the night the day.

I must tell you of an incident that occurred the other day, when we were at tiffin at the home of some English acquaintances. But first I must tell you about the pailows, and before that again, I must tell you of the French ships that carry troops. I don't know where to begin, for you must hear everything if you are to see the point.

I'll start with the pailows, those big, red lacquer memorial arches that span the streets all over the place—arch, by the way, being a figure of speech, since actually these arches are square, and consist of two upright posts with a third laid horizontally across them. They are emblazoned all over with gilded characters and sprawling dragons, and honor some great Chinese,—erected to his memory instead of a library or a hospital or something like that. Well, there is one pailow or memorial arch that is not of red lacquer but of white marble, erected not in honor of a Chinese but in honor of a foreigner, the imposing von Kettler Memorial which spans Ha-Ta-Men Street, far out. It is a Lest-We-Forget memorial placed in honor of Baron von Kettler, the German minister who was killed in the Boxer uprising. Chinese characters and German letters, carved in marble, tell the tale of von Kettler's death to all who pass beneath. Now to the ships. Three months ago when we went down to the tropics, we happened to travel on French ships, two of them loaded to the gunwales with troops for France, labor battalions. The passengers, I may mention, came off rather badly, being squeezed into exceedingly restricted quarters in order to make room for the troops. The first ship we were on carried a thousand, the other one twelve hundred of these little Annamites; the number varies according to the size of the vessel. Really, you know, I don't think it's quite fair to either, to carry both troops and passengers on the same ship. Well, at tiffin to-day we heard what seemed like a most astounding proposal. Our host was explaining his plan for dealing with the von Kettler Memorial. The Athos was sunk February 17, in the Mediterranean, together with five hundred Chinese soldiers. And here were we listening to a suggestion to erase the inscription on the von Kettler arch, and substitute a new one dedicating the pailow to the five hundred "Chinese" troops torpedoed by the Germans. It seems to me rather late in the day to begin inscribing pailows to Chinese killed by the conquering foreigner. To create the war spirit it may be necessary to dedicate the von Kettler pailow to this purpose, but as a precedent it seems rather unwise,—leads one into sweeping vistas of all the pailows of China, all the thousands innumerable of red lacquered pailows, all insufficient in their thousands to contain the names of the still greater thousands of Chinese slain by their European conquerors.



XI

DIPLOMATIC RELATIONS BROKEN

It's done at last. China has at last broken diplomatic relations with Germany this fourteenth day of March, 1917. The foreign press is triumphant, while the Chinese press is much less enthusiastic, its rejoicings far less obvious. Here's a bit of gossip for you, blown along with the dust of Peking. (By this time you must have discovered that Peking dust and Peking gossip are pretty much the same thing, whirling and blowing along together, sifting over you and into you, physically and mentally, till you are saturated through and through.) Miss Z—— told us this; she knows every bit of rumor in Peking, from topside down:

"What do you suppose happened, just two hours after the final vote was taken, and the note despatched to the German minister announcing China's decision? X—— [one of the Allied ministers] was seen ramping up and down before the German legation, shaking his fist at the German flag flying up above and shouting, 'That thing must come down! That thing must come down!' Had two Japanese soldiers with him, they say—where he got them heaven knows—but there he was, fairly raging, and stomping—that's the word, stomping—up and down and shaking his fist at the flag, and shouting that it must come down!"

"Why didn't he wait till the Chinese took it down?"

"Lord only knows, my dear! Wasn't it amusing! Could such things happen anywhere except in Peking?"

It appears, however, that while X—— was pacing up and down before the German legation, shaking his fist at the flag and furiously impatient at Chinese slowness, the wily Chinese were engaged upon other, more important matters. Hauling down the flag could wait; it was less urgent. The astute Chinese, with admirable foresight, hastily "acquired" the German concessions in Tientsin and Hankow for themselves—acted with remarkable intelligence and great haste, almost undue haste, before any of the foreign powers could "acquire" or "protect" these concessions for themselves; put their own Chinese soldiers in possession, and with the utmost promptness occupied these German holdings in the name of the Republic of China. Imagine the shock! Furthermore, with the same speed, they also seized the interned German war-ships.

Well, this is a tremendous decision for China to have reached, and the next step, declaration of war, will be still more momentous. Opposition is growing all the while, in spite of the rupture of diplomatic relations, which does not mean that this country will declare war immediately, automatically, as a matter of course. Those in favor, and those who resist, are lining up for a tremendous struggle, and, as I wrote you before, some say that civil war will result.

One thing stands out clearly,—our whole visit to the East has confirmed it,—and that is that this European war had its origin in the Orient. Supremacy in the Orient, control of the Far East—that is the underlying cause of the struggle which is rending Europe in twain. The world does not go to war for little stakes, for trifles. It fights for colossal stakes, worth gambling for.



XII

WALKING ON THE WALL

Don't think that even in all this excitement our taste for shopping has become quiescent. Far from it! Shopping freshens one up, relaxes one's mind, makes one more keen for the next bit of rumor that comes along. We know where all the antique-shops are situated, those along Ha-ta-Men Street, out on Morrison Street, in the Tartar City, all those without the Wall, and those in the Chinese City, as well as the pawnshops down the lower part of Chi'en Men Street, the Thieves' Market, and all the various bazaars. And we know the days on which the temple fairs are held. We know all about them and get bargains every day, sometimes real finds, and sometimes stone lions of the purest Ming, such as I described a few days ago. And in the intervals, when we are not out questing on our own, the dealers and runners from the various shops appear at our door, bow themselves in with such ingratiating compliments that we can't resist, and then stoop over and undo wonderful blue cotton bundles and exhibit such treasures that there's no withstanding them. The most irresistible of all these dealers is "Tiffany" (his Chinese name has given way to this nickname, which is solemnly printed on his card), dealer in jewels and jade, a giant Chinese about six feet tall, weighing some three hundred pounds, with the smiling, innocent face of a three-foot child! When Tiffany enters the room and squats down over his big blue bundle, his knees spread out, he looks like a wide blue elephant, and there is no refusing his bland, smiling, upturned face, his gentle, "No buy. Just look-see." Then from the bundle come strings of pearls, translucent jade of "number-one" quality, snuff-bottles fit for a museum. The only way of getting rid of him is to tell him that a new American lady has just arrived on the floor below, whereupon he gathers up his treasures and goes in search of her! His method of gaining admittance to our room is ingenious. A gentle knock, and we open to find the doorway suffused by Tiffany.

"No want things to-day, Mr. Tiffany. No can buy."

To which comes the pleasant reply: "No want Missy buy. Come bring Missy cumshaw."

A slender hand slips around the open door, against one side of which I press my knee while he braces a huge foot against the other, and in the hand lies a red leather box painted with flowers and dragons. "Present for Missy; cumshaw," says the pleasant voice, and what can you do? "Amelican lady you say down-stair, she buy heap pearls, so I bring Missy cumshaw." Whereupon in he comes, with his gratitude for the American lady, his bargains, his wheedling, and we are lost!



After some weeks of this—Tiffany and others, and our own excursions—our room became a veritable curio-shop, and our curios were so overlaid with spring dust which the "boys" had failed to remove that we called in a packer one day, had everything boxed, and resolved to buy nothing more. On this afternoon, March 16, we went over to the legation compound to arrange with our consul for invoices, and as we crossed the compound Dr. Reinsch appeared from his house, and came over and spoke to us. He looked very tired and troubled, showing the strain of the last few weeks.

"I've just had word from the Chinese Foreign Office," he said, "that the Russian Government has been overturned!" He had no details, just the mere fact, but the shock was so great that we forgot all about our visit to the consul, forgot our intention to obtain an invoice; all we wanted to do was get off and talk it over! We flew back to the hotel, simply bursting with the news! It's so exciting, in this old, barbaric city, to hear such news as that, so casually, from your minister! No one in the hotel to talk to,—three o'clock, a bad hour! So we went for a walk on the only available place for a walk that Peking affords, the top of the wall. For you can't walk with comfort in the streets, they are too crowded, with camels and wheelbarrows to be dodged at every turn. And as we walked on the wall, discussing that bit of tremendous news, going over and over again the possibilities contained in those few words, we met other people out walking, also talking it over. The French minister and his first-secretary came by, deeply engrossed in conversation. Some little distance behind us came Dr. Reinsch with one of the press correspondents. We met all diplomatic Peking walking on the wall that afternoon, talking it over! For the wall is a good safe place for conversations: one can't possibly be overheard, for one can see people coming a mile off. Only foreigners may go there: the Chinese aren't allowed on it, except the soldiers at the blockhouses by the towers. The most frequent visitor is the baby camel owned by the American marine guards, which comes up to browse on the weeds growing between the stones. We once asked a marine where they found this mascot. "Stole it first," was the reply, "and paid four dollars afterward!"

I picked up a Tientsin paper a few days ago, and was interested to read an "Ordonnance" promulgated by the French consul-general at Tientsin. By the terms of this decree every Chinese employed in the French concession is obliged to have a little book containing his name, age, place of birth, and so on, together with his photograph and finger-prints. A duplicate carnet is on file at the French police bureau in Tientsin, and no Chinese can find employment in the concession, as cook, groom, clerk, chauffeur, or in any other capacity, unless he is first registered with the police. The idea of having one's finger-prints recorded, like a common criminal, seems somehow humiliating. I imagine there would be some comment if the Japanese enforced such regulations in their concessions in China.



XIII

MEETING THE PRESIDENT OF CHINA

Ever since we came to Peking we have been anxious to meet the President of China, Li Yuan Hung. Dr. Reinsch said he would arrange it for us "at the first opportune moment." Opportune moments are scarce in Peking, as you can well imagine; consequently we have been waiting for weeks for such a moment to arrive, for a pause longer than usual between impeachments and betrayals and plots of various kinds. We had waited so long, in fact, that we had quite forgotten about it, until we came in one day just before tiffin time, rather late, and found the whole hotel in a blaze of excitement: we were to meet the President that afternoon!

And, what's more, best clothes were required! Really, I had not foreseen that contingency, and therefore felt uncomfortable and self-conscious when arrayed in my other hat, with the feather, the hat which has been reposing in the hat-box for eight long months, waiting for just such an emergency! Every one else, however, was in the same state of excitement as to dress; that is, all those who like ourselves had been long in the Orient, and whose clothes had fallen off a bit in appearance. In sharp contrast were the newly arrived tourists with their smart new outfits, beautiful as only Americans can be beautiful. But never mind: we reflected that the President would never know the difference; he would consider us all alike and all outlandish. There were others in the party who had lived so long in Peking that they were reduced to Gillard's best,—Gillard's, the one "department store" of the city, about on a plane with the general store of a country village or a frontier town, only worse. Sooner or later every one in Peking is reduced to Gillard's Emporium, where the stocks are old-fashioned and musty, and the thing you want has just been sold out. And if you can't get it at Gillard's, there is nowhere else to go. Up-stairs Mrs. Gillard makes Paris gowns on the latest models, which look all right, too, till tourist season comes round and you see the difference. Well, finally we were all ready, and assembled at the front door of the hotel,—the smart and beautiful Americans; those clad in Gillard's best, and ourselves, something intermediate. The men were upset, too: several of them had been obliged to borrow top hats. And at the last moment a rumor spread that ceremonial bows were required. That created such consternation that several of us considered backing out.

We were all to meet at the Pei Hei Gate at two o'clock, so we started early, for we had a long distance to travel. The smart Americans went in motors, as was fitting, but the rest of us made a long procession of rickshaws, and jogged happily along the dusty streets, out through the gates of the legation quarter, past the North Glacis, through the gates of the Imperial City, and finally, after half an hour's run, reached the Pei Hei Gate, leading into the old and abandoned Winter Palace. It then transpired that a visit to this old palace was part of the program, and we were to wander for two hours through its beautiful and extensive grounds, until four o'clock, when the President would receive us. Now March is March the world over, but March in Peking is excessive. No one who has not passed a spring in North China can know the meaning of dust. On this clear, bright March afternoon a classic dust-storm was in progress and in this, dressed in our best clothes, we were to wander for two hours through the closed grounds of the Winter Palace, which had been thrown open to us by special courtesy of the President!

They say one never realizes the meaning of the word decay until one has seen Peking. And the climax of decay is reached here, in this former abode of the old empress dowager, where everything remains as she left it, or as the Boxers left it, or as the European looters left it after the Boxer troubles. Scattered through the beautiful grounds are magnificent buildings, all fallen into ruin. The roofs of the palaces and temples, blazing with the imperial yellow tiles, are dropping to pieces, and rank grass is replacing the fallen tiles and dislodging those that are left. In one of the temples we walked through littered debris of rich carvings, kicked against the broken heads and hands of gilded gods fallen from the altars, and brushed against the loosened shreds of old paintings swaying in tatters from the walls. One building contained the remains of a once beautiful fountain, painted and lacquered, now moldering and fallen into dust. At the four corners of the room the old gods, life-size, had been gathered into piles and covered with matting, and from beneath this dusty covering protruded dirty, battered heads and gilded bodies, ludicrous and pathetic.

In the grounds it was no better. Weeds grew shoulder high, springing from between the stones of the great courtyards and open spaces connecting the temples and palaces, and we pushed ourselves through this brush, and stumbled over rolling stones, all the while enveloped by the whirling dust, the everlasting Peking dust, straight from the Gobi Desert. All this was very disastrous to our personal appearance, and at the end of two hours we were all reduced to pretty much the same level: really, there wasn't much difference between the beautiful Americans, those attired in Gillard's best, and ourselves, when we took to our rickshaws (and motors) again and set off for the President's palace, in the Forbidden City.

The grounds of this palace presented a much better appearance than anything we had seen in Peking. The roads were newly swept, and everything was very neat and clean and orderly, though bare. The lawns, if such they could be called, were as arid and grassless as the great plains of Chili. We arrived a few minutes before four, and descended from our vehicles, grand and otherwise, and then a cleaning-up process took place. Dusty shoes were brushed off with handkerchiefs, dusty coats slapped and patted, wind-blown hair rearranged, dust cleaned out from the corners of eyes, and powder-papers passed from hand to hand among the women. One lady remarked cheerfully, "Well, we surely don't look very nifty to meet the President," but we made ourselves as "nifty" as we could, in the circumstances, standing together in a laughing group on the lee side of the palace, and asking one another if we'd do. I remember that once, years ago, when I was living in the Latin Quarter, some of us went over to a tea on "the other side," and before pulling the door-bell, we stood first on one foot and then on the other, polishing our dusty shoes on our stockings. Well, here we were doing the same thing, before meeting the President of China!

We got clean at last, and then soberly marched round the corner of the building and presented ourselves in the anteroom of the palace, leading to the President's apartments. Here we found Dr. Reinsch waiting for us, and he sorted us into groups of eight, and left us waiting till the summons came. In former times the mandarins used to wait in this anteroom, before an audience with the empress dowager, and we tried to imagine the big bare room of to-day filled with these high officials in their gorgeous robes. Nothing remains of the old glories of the palace save the elaborate carving on wall and ceiling, and a few pieces of magnificent old furniture. The ceiling is now disfigured with a gaudy, cheap European chandelier, while standing here and there on beautiful ebony tables are hideous modern vases, straight from the five-and-ten-cent store. The floor was covered with ugly oilcloth. Such is China modernized, imbued with Western culture.

Our group of eight was the first to be called, and Dr. Reinsch led the way with an interpreter. We passed out of the antechamber and along an open marble corridor, lined with Chinese soldiers in their padded gray cotton uniforms, who stood at salute as the American minister passed. Immediately we found ourselves in another room, also plainly furnished, and the next moment were shaking hands with an unassuming little man clad in a frock-coat, the President, Li Yuan Hung. Through the interpreter the President explained that he would like us to pass into the room beyond, where he could speak with us one by one, personally. He waved his hand toward the other room, and my recollection is that we led the way! It all happened so quickly, I can't remember; but somehow our group seemed to be waiting in the other room when the President and Dr. Reinsch arrived at our heels, a second later. However, you can't expect people not brought up in courts to know much about such things, and we were probably flustered, anyway.



President Li, Dr. Reinsch, and the interpreter stood together, while we arranged ourselves in a semicircle round them, and then Dr. Reinsch presented each one of us in turn, explained who each one was, or what he or she represented or had been doing. He began with the Allens,—told who Mr. Allen was, what big American interests he represented, why he had come out to China, and all about it. Then the interpreter repeated all this to the President, who meanwhile stood looking inquiringly at the Allens, as did the rest of us. When the translation was finished, Li replied in Chinese; they say he can speak English, but imperfectly, and he did not attempt it. "When quality meets, compliments pass." Dr. Reinsch said all manner of nice things about the Allens and China, and the President said all sorts of nice things about the Allens and America, and it all took some time, just disposing of the first two of our party. Meanwhile, two servants came in with a tray of champagne and plates of cakes, and we all stood with a glass in one hand and a cake in the other, waiting to see what Mr. Allen would do when the President finished telling him how glad he was he had come to China. Mr. Allen rose to it, however, in a happy little speech, saying that it was a privilege, and so on.

Then came our turn. We were anxiously wondering what Dr. Reinsch could find to say about us two, having committed himself by introducing the whole group at one swoop as "representative Americans." However, we were both exceedingly pleased at what he did say, and the President was pleased, too, apparently, for he replied that he was glad we were like that. So it continued all round the circle, and we felt exactly as if it were the Day of Judgment, and the secrets of all hearts were being revealed: we thought we knew our friends pretty well, and all about them; yet we hung with bated breath upon Dr. Reinsch's introduction or send-off! And we had never understood the meaning of "true Oriental politeness" until we heard the President's gracious, courteous welcome in reply. We stood directly opposite him, and had a good opportunity to observe him closely,—a short, thick-set man with a small mustache, much darker than the usual Chinese type, owing to his heritage of Siamese blood. Many people say he has no Siamese blood at all, but it is always like that in China: whatever any one tells you is always flatly contradicted by the next person you meet.

Then we committed a great gaffe! When the Allens and E—— and I had been safely disposed of, and the introductions and interpretations were being directed toward the other four members of the party, we drank our champagne—we four, the Allens and ourselves! I think it was because we did not know what else to do with it, having stood stiffly at attention for some twenty minutes, trying to balance a very full glass in one hand, and conscious that the sugary cake in the other was fast melting. Anyway, we emptied our glasses, and set them down on a table behind us, and ate the cakes as well. Then, to our horror, Dr. Reinsch summed us all up again, collectively, in a graceful little speech, and the President raised his glass, and bowing, drank our health. I heard E—— whisper, "The glasses, quick!" and the Allens and she and I hastily groped backward for the empty glasses on the table behind us, and drained the few remaining drops with what manners we could muster. After which we all shook hands with the President again, and filed out of the room.

In the anteroom the rest of the party crowded round us, asking for tips. We had two big ones to offer: Don't lead the way for the President of China, and don't touch your glasses till he raises his!



XIV

GREAT BRITAIN'S TWELVE DEMANDS

The scaffolding is being put up for more trouble. China has got to declare war, and to do it soon. It took five weeks' manoeuvering to make her break diplomatic relations and will probably take much longer to induce her to take this next step, opposition to which is growing stronger and more intense every day. The President is obstinately opposed to it, and he has considerable backing. There is free talk about a revolution occurring if the break takes place, so determined are certain leaders not to be dominated by "foreign influence." Many Chinese can be bribed, but the Chinese in general cannot be fooled, and no glowing compliments about China's "masculine" attitude can deceive them as to the yoke they must wear should they decide to surrender themselves and place their nation at the disposal of European interests.

On the morning of March 26 one of the papers contained this significant article, under the caption of Tibetan Affairs:

Reported British Demands. Indignation of Chinese M. P.'s. Mr. Ho Sheng-Ping and other Senators have addressed the following interpellation to the Government: "According to the reports of the Japanese newspapers, the British Government has sent Twelve Demands to the Chinese Government in connection with Tibetan affairs, and these demands, being so cruel and unreasonable, tend to provoke the anger and indignation of any people. Why did we address a protest to the German Government against its submarine warfare? And why did we declare diplomatic severance with Germany? Was it not to render assistance to the Entente Powers, and was it not to render direct help to Great Britain? We are, indeed, surprised at these British Demands appearing in the newspapers. In accordance with the provisions laid down in Article 19 of the Provisional Constitution, we hereby demand that a reply be given within five days as to the true nature of the reported Demands, and the attitude of the Government towards them."

The Demands from Great Britain as reported in the Japanese newspapers are as follows:

1 Great Britain shall have the right to construct railways between India and Tibet.

2 The Chinese Government shall contract loans from the British Government for the improvement of the administration of Tibet.

3 The treaty obligations between Tibet and Great Britain shall be considered valid as heretofore.

4 British experts shall be engaged for the industrial enterprises of Tibet.

5 China shall secure the redemption of loans contracted from the British people by the Tibetans.

6 Neither China nor Great Britain shall send troops to Tibet without reason.

7 The Chinese Government shall not appoint or dismiss officials in Tibet on its own responsibility.

8 The British Government shall be allowed to establish telegraph lines in Lhassa, Chiangchu, Chamutao, etc.

9 British postal service shall be introduced in Lhassa and other places.

10 China shall not interfere with the actions of the British Government in Tibet.

11 No privileges or interests in Tibet shall be granted to other nations.

12 All mines in Tibet shall be jointly worked by the British and Chinese Governments.

These Twelve Demands, which the Chinese M. P.'s resent so hotly, which they quaintly term "cruel and unreasonable," virtually amount to the annexation of Tibet by the British Government. It is amusing to think that it was the Japanese press which first gave them publicity. We are so accustomed to hearing of the famous Twenty-one Demands of Japan that we fail to realize that other nations make demands equally sweeping and equally arbitrary. Of course, these British demands will not receive the world-wide attention accorded those of Japan. Remember, over here it is not customary to think of or speak of anything but "Japanese aggression." Japan, you see, offers the only stumbling-block to the complete domination of the Orient by Europe. But for Japan—China might possibly become another India. And the Japanese, facing race discrimination and exclusion from most of the European countries, and many of their colonies, as well as America, cannot afford to have China under European control. It is a question of self-preservation.

We were dining the other evening with a Chinese gentleman, of high position, who invited us to dinner at an old and very famous restaurant outside the palace gates. It was at this restaurant, in the days of the dowager empress, that the Mandarins used to assemble every night while waiting for the imperial edicts to be issued from the palace. And as the edicts frequently did not appear until two or three in the morning, they comforted themselves, during this long wait, with much fine and delicate food cooked in the fine and delicate manner that even French cooks cannot excel. And if the cooking in those days was as delicious as at present, they passed the time very pleasantly, and did very well by themselves, those old officials.

It was a bitterly cold night, and the dark street in front of the restaurant was crowded with a motley array of rickshaws, Peking carts, and motors, through which we made our way by the light of a bobbing lantern. We entered a crowded, noisy kitchen, filled with rushing waiters and shouting cooks bending over charcoal fires. In contrast to the freezing wind outside the air was deliciously warm, redolent with the fumes of charcoal and the aroma of savory exotic food. Our table was waiting for us in a private dining-room; the whole place consists of private dining-rooms, separated by good thick stone walls, so that one can't hear the plots and intrigues being hatched next door, though the din in the open courtyard caused by the scrambling, yelling waiters would make that impossible, in any event. The room had a stone floor, and was unheated, only a little less cold than outdoors. Inadvertently, we took off our wraps,—not all, only two or three; for we are becoming quite Chinese in our manner of putting one coat on over another. We put them all on again, however, at the end of the second course, for the draughty windows and the door constantly swinging open into the courtyard made all our warm things indispensable.

Our Chinese gentleman gave us a "number-one" dinner, and a number-one dinner always begins with bird's-nest soup, the greatest delicacy a Chinese can offer; also, the most expensive. Well, we began with it, and truly it is "number-one"—gelatinous, delicate, with an exquisite flavor altogether indescribable. Then followed the other courses. As this dinner was given to foreigners, we had only twelve courses, whereas the usual Chinese dinners run up into the dozens; "forty curses" they are sometimes called by unwary foreigners who have tried to eat their way through a whole meal. The courses come on and on, endlessly; but the proper Chinese custom is that you leave when you have had enough, say four or five. You aren't supposed to sit through an entire meal. Our host told us that he had been to three dinners that evening, before this one, and was expecting to go to one or two more. We felt rather uneasy when he told us this, and thought we ought to be going, ourselves; but he hastily explained that this dinner, given in our honor, was not long and that we must go through all of it. Very easy going, I must say!

After the bird's-nest soup came shark fins, another delicacy and also delicious. Then fish, then soup of another kind, then powdered chicken, then duck and rice, then cake, then shell-fish, then more duck, then lotus-flower soup, and finally fruit and coffee. As each wonderful dish succeeded the other our host apologized profusely, deprecating its poor quality and miserable manner of preparation. We protested vehemently, with enthusiasm. This also is Chinese etiquette, it seems, for the host to denounce each dish, while the guests eat themselves to a standstill. It all took a long time, for we managed our chop-sticks badly; nevertheless, in spite of this handicap, we finished every marvelous course placed before us. A tea-pot of hot sake did something to keep the creeping chill out of our bones, but very little: the thimble-like sake cups contained only a few drops, and one doesn't like to ask for the tea-pot more than seventeen times! During the meal. Mr. Y—— entertained us with many side-lights on the political situation, and we finally asked him to explain the meaning of the Twelve British Demands. He replied promptly, emphatically.

"They are a threat," he said, "a form of coercion, to make us take the next step, to declare war. If we declare war, they will be withdrawn. We are familiar with them. They have appeared before, when it was necessary."



XV

CONCLUSION

On the first of April we are going to leave Peking, to leave China alone to her fate! We have had enough of it, and are just about worn out with the strain on our sympathies. Opposition to a declaration of war is growing daily, and so are rumors of a revolution. But a revolution is just what is needed,—a revolution which will unseat those who are opposed to the war, and which will place in power a group of officials submissive and subservient to European influence. A revolution will offer the grand, final excuse for the "protection" of China, by Europe. You will see; mark my words. Only, of course, Japan will not be the power that sets in order this disturbed country. Never Japan, the great commercial competitor. For by this time you must surely understand that Japanese aggression is immoral and reprehensible, whereas European aggression or "civilization" is the fate to which the Orient is predestined. The world contains a double standard of international justice, for the East and the West.

At least we are glad to have been in China during these distressful days, just to see how they do it. With the attention of the world centered on Europe, things are taking place out here which could not possibly occur were the world free to know of them, and judge. But in the safe seclusion of Oriental isolation all things are now possible. Back of the war, behind the war, ugly things are going on, which will be all finished and done with and safely accomplished by the time the war is over. This war for civilization is all that "civilization" requires in the way of opportunity in the Orient.

So we are going to leave Peking, gorgeous, barbaric Peking, with its whirling clouds of gossip and its whirling clouds of dust. We are stifled by them both. We are going to Japan to see cherry-blossoms.



APPENDIXES



APPENDIX I

This despatch appeared in "The New York Times," the last of July or the first part of August, 1918:

FEAR OPIUM TRADE REVIVAL IN CHINA

BRITISH PROTEST LODGED AGAINST LARGE TRACT OF POPPY UNDER CULTIVATION IN SHENSI. GOVERNMENT IS HELPLESS. AREA IS PRACTICALLY RULED BY BANDITS. MAY TRY TO ENFORCE THE LAW.

From a Special Correspondent. Peking, May 27, 1918:

One of the very few things which China has done well is the suppression of the opium practice with all its baneful influences. Under the spur of enlightened foreign opinion, the Chinese have rid themselves of opium much earlier than was arranged for, and in their thoroughness actually defied conventions to which the British Government was a party.

This in other circumstances might have awkward consequences. But those who took the risk knew that the British people would not tolerate the continuance of opium importation into China even if it did involve the violation of certain agreements.

For several years now China has been certified as free, that is to say, the cultivation of the poppy has been entirely discontinued. Of course the habit has not been completely eliminated—that takes time—and the fact that a demand for the drug exists is sufficient temptation for greedy officials and unscrupulous speculators to connive at renewed attempts to cultivate the poppy and resume its sale and use.

The state of lawlessness which prevails in China invites disregard of authority, especially when it affords lucrative possibilities, and the continued enfeeblement of the administration in Peking contributes to conditions favoring the resumption of the traffic in opium.

It is not surprising, therefore, to learn that reports have been received by the British Legation in Peking, of large tracts being under poppy cultivation in Shensi, a province where lawlessness is rampant, and where the unfortunate residents are harassed, plundered and murdered by large roving bands of Tufei, the Chinese equivalent for robbers or thieves. The reports come from missionaries and foreign travellers and naturally they could not be ignored.

Accordingly, the British Minister has lodged a protest with the Chinese Government. Under the Opium Convention, Indian opium may be imported into China as long as the poppy is cultivated in China. That is the legal aspect, but in these days of higher ideals, it may be presumed that Sir John Jordan and the British Government, which he represents, are more concerned with the moral aspect. His protest is not made in the interests of Indian opium, but in the hope that the national regeneration from a former vice should not suffer a relapse.

The reply of the Chinese Government is not known, but it is safe to infer that assurance would be given that orders would be issued to the provincial authorities to enforce the law prohibiting the cultivation of the poppy. Whether these orders will be obeyed is not so certain.

Gone are the days when edicts from Peking concluded with the warning, "tremble and obey." Then they were heeded, but now the authority of the Government does not seem to extend beyond the metropolitan area, and however ready the administration may be to suppress poppy cultivation, it is unable to control the more distant feudal tachuns. How then, can a Government be held responsible when it is not in a position to enforce its authority? This problem meets the treaty powers at every turn. One or several must act as did Alexander the Great when he cut the Gordian knot. Who or which shall it be?

From an article in the "North China Herald," dated September 14, 1918:

The Government [Chinese] after concluding the opium deal, farmed the right to sell the drug in Chekiang, Hupeh and Kiangsu, to a specially formed company, called the Hsichi Company.

We read further in the article that the Hsichi Company bought opium from the Chinese Government at the rate of 10,000 taels per chest, which it sells to district farmers at 23,000 taels per chest, and these latter retail it to drug-stores or consumers at 27,000 taels per chest.

From Millard's "Review of the Far East," October 12, 1918:

It would be advisable for the Peking government to seriously consider the notes addressed to it on the subject of opium by the British and American governments. The trade in opium cannot any more be successfully revived in China than could the African slave trade, and if Peking proposes to make a few dollars by the sale of the over-plus opium stock at Shanghai the venture is dangerous. Only a few years ago China gave her pledge, in the presence of the assembled nations at The Hague, that the poppy plant should never again be cultivated within her borders, nor would the traffic in opium be tolerated, and in the notes from the British and American governments the pledge given at The Hague is brought directly to the attention of those in authority at Peking. The two Western governments named would hardly have taken such concurrent action without a significant meaning, and a meaning which Peking will not be permitted to treat with indifference and impunity. It is certainly not the policy of either British or American governments to interfere in the domestic affairs of China, but both of those governments do intend that no business shall be carried on as demoralizing and offensive to the moral sense of the world as the business of debauching and drugging with opium. London and Washington really do not appear to be fully enlightened as to conditions at Peking and the motives and inspirations influencing officials in that Capital, and a reformation there is as much needed as in Russia. It may be written that at no time in Chinese history, during the past two hundred years, has the name of China been so disparaged and her reputation besmirched. Representatives of the Allied nations and America are in Russia charged with the duty of aiding in bringing about the unity of the Russian people that they may establish a stable government, and representatives of a similar character for a like purpose are as much needed in China. Russia will soon have a stable government, the choice of her people, but China promises to go on unsettled so long as Peking governs as at present.

From the "New York Times," November 25, 1918:

CHINA TO DESTROY OPIUM

1,200 CHESTS TO BE BURNED IN DEFERENCE TO ALLIED REPRESENTATIONS

Copyright, 1918, by The New York Times Company. Special Cable to "The New York Times."

PEKING, Nov. 23.—The Government has decided to destroy the remaining stocks of opium in Shanghai in deference to Anglo-American representations. Three hundred chests have been sold, and 1,200 will be burned in presence of the allied representatives, the Government making a virtue of necessity.

America to the rescue! It must have been a close squeak for poor old China.



APPENDIX II

From the "New York Medical Record," October 12, 1918:

THE ORIGIN OF THE SO-CALLED "SPANISH INFLUENZA"

BY JAMES JOSEPH KING, A.B., M.D.

NEW YORK

CAPTAIN MEDICAL CORPS, U. S. ARMY

We desire to present in this preliminary note a consideration of the similarity of the present epidemic to the epidemic of pneumonic plague which broke out in Harbin, China, in October, 1910, and spread rapidly and continuously throughout Northern China at that time; and to suggest that this epidemic may be the same disease modified by racial and topographical differences. The origin of this epidemic was suggested to the writer soon after its outbreak in our camps by Mr. Guy M. Walker, an eminent American authority on Chinese affairs. This suggestion led to an investigation of the reports of the pneumonic plague in China and there is sufficient likeness of that epidemic to the present one prevailing in our cities and army camps to warrant a consideration of it.

In the latter part of 1910 the pneumonic plague first appeared in Harbin a town in Manchuria under Chinese control. Harbin is on the Trans-Siberian Railroad, and was the original hotbed of the disease. The plague had prevailed in Russia previous to November, 1910, but the Russians, alert to its danger, took immediate action and stamped it out. It was believed that the plague was carried into Harbin by the fur dealers and by the Chinese laborers returning to their homes to celebrate New Year's Day, a custom universally observed in China. From Harbin the plague rapidly spread in all directions, usually following the lines of traffic along the railroads. It spread as far south as Chefu, a seaport town, probably having been carried there by Chinese coolies returning from the north.

* * * * *

This plague has been very serious. The mortality has been fearfully high. It has spread throughout China. Wherever the Chinese coolies from the North have traveled they have carried this disease. From 1910 up to 1917 China has not been free from it. The writer has heard of several cases being present in Peking last year.

In the early part of 1917, about 200,000 Chinese coolies, collected from the northern part of China, where the pneumonic plague has raged at intervals since 1910, were sent to France as laborers. Part of them were sent around through the Mediterranean; some, perhaps the majority, were sent across the Pacific, and then through Canada and America, to be transported across the Atlantic to France. Trainloads of these coolies were sent in solid trains across the United States to New York and thence to France. They made splendid laborers in France, and were in back of the lines during the German drive of March, 1918. No doubt many of them were captured by the Germans at that time. Hence the outbreak of it in the German army and its rapid spread in Spain.

So far as we know, this disease first broke out last spring, in the German army, where it is said to have been very serious. We next heard of it in Spain, hence the name Spanish influenza. The name is really a misnomer, but it has stuck probably because it is the first epidemic of influenza that Spain has ever had. Since our soldiers and sailors have been returning from the battlefields of France it has become very prevalent and serious in our camps and cities all over this country.

* * * * *

... It seems possible that the Bacillus pestis may have been present in a non-virulent state in the Chinese coolies, and assumed new virulence, vigor, and a somewhat different form, when transplanted into virgin soil. The high mortality and infectivity of this epidemic strongly suggest it.

On this basis the epidemics which have followed all great wars may be explained. If a nation or tribe can survive any disease long enough it will acquire immunity to that disease. When, however, foreign people commingle freely and intimately, as in war, epidemics will break out. The inactive, non-virulent organisms in one race will become virulent in some other race which has not acquired immunity to that specific organism.



Transcriber's Notes:

Author's name is spelled LaMotte (title page) or La Motte (cover and introduction). The appearance of the original text has been preserved in each case.

List of illustrations, 5th entry, "Peking car" changed to "Peking cart" to match caption under illustration.

Inconsistent hyphenation of words in text preserved. This occurs mainly in the transliteration of Chinese names. (Lao-Hsi-Kai, Lao Hsi Kai; Li Yuan-Hung, Li Yuan Hung; Shan-tung, Shantung)

Abbreviations: sometimes a space between letters, sometimes not, the appearance of the original text is preserved. (P. M., M. P., U. S., A.B., M.D.)

Page 37, closing quote mark added. (Not much," he replied)

Page 149, extra period removed. (motives of the Allies.)

Page 220, non-standard spelling "manoeuvering" preserved. (weeks' manoeuvering to make)

THE END