DECREE CANCELLING THE EMPIRE (22ND MARCH)
After the establishment of the Min Kuo (i.e. the Republic), disturbances rapidly followed one another; and a man of little virtue like me was called to take up the vast burden of the State. Fearing that disaster might befall us any day, all those who had the welfare of the country at heart advocated the reinstitution of the monarchical system of government to the end that a stop be put to all strife for power and a régime of peace be inaugurated. Suggestions in this sense have unceasingly been made to me since the days of Kuei Chou (the year of the first Revolution, 1911) and each time a sharp rebuke has been administered to the one making the suggestion. But the situation last year was indeed so different from the circumstances of preceding years that it was impossible to prevent the spread of such ideas.
It was said that China could never hope to continue as a nation unless the constitutional monarchical form of state were adopted; and if quarrels like those occurring in Mexico and Portugal were to take place in China, we would soon share the fate of Annam and Burmah. A large number of people then advocated the restoration of a monarchy and advanced arguments which were reasonable. In this proposal all the military and civil officials, scholars and people concurred; and prayers were addressed to me in most earnest tone by telegram and in petitions. Owing to the position I was at the time holding, which laid on me the duty of maintaining the then existing situation, I repeatedly made declarations resisting the adoption of the advice; but the people did not seem to realize my embarrassment. And so it was decided by the acting Li Fa Yuan (i.e. the Senate) that the question of Kuo-ti (form of State) should be settled by the Convention of Citizens' Representatives. As the result, the representatives of the Provinces and of the Special Administrative Areas unanimously decided in favour of a constitutional monarchy, and in one united voice elected me as the Emperor. Since the sovereignty of the country has been vested in the citizens of China and as the decision was made by the entire body of the representatives, there was no room left to me for further discussion. Nevertheless, I continued to be of the conviction that my sudden elevation to the Great Seat would be a violation of my oath and would compromise my good faith, leaving me unable to explain myself; I, therefore, declined in earnest words in order to make clear the view which hath always been mine. The said Senate however, stated with firmness that the oath of the Chief Executive rested on a peculiar sanction and should be observed or discarded according to the will of the people. Their arguments were so irresistible that there was in truth no excuse for me further to decline the offer.
Therefore I took refuge behind the excuse of "preparations" in order that the desire of the people might be satisfied. But I took no steps actually to carry out the programme. When the trouble in Yunnan and Kueichow arose, a mandate was officially issued announcing the decision to postpone the measure and forbidding further presentation of petitions praying for the enthronement. I then hastened the convocation of the Li Fa Yuan (i.e., a new Parliament) in order to secure the views of that body and hoping thus to turn back to the original state of affairs, I, being a man of bitter experiences, had at once given up all ideas of world affairs; and having retired into the obscurity of the river Yuan (in Honan), I had no appetite for the political affairs of the country. As the result of the revolution in Hsin Hai, I was by mistake elected by the people. Reluctantly I came out of my retirement and endeavoured to prop up the tottering structure. I cared for nothing, but the salvation of the country. A perusal of our history of several thousand years will reveal in vivid manner the sad fate of the descendants of ancient kings and emperors. What then could have prompted me to aspire to the Throne? Yet while the representatives of the people were unwilling to believe in the sincerity of my refusal of the offer, a section of the people appear to have suspected me of harbouring the desire of gaining more power and privileges. Such difference in thought has resulted in the creation of an exceedingly dangerous situation. As my sincerity has not been such as to win the hearts of the people and my judgment has not been sound enough to appraise every man, I have myself alone to blame for lack of virtue. Why then should I blame others? The people have been thrown into misery and my soldiers have been made to bear hardships; and further the people have been cast into panic and commerce has rapidly declined. When I search my own heart a measure of sorrow fills it. I shall, therefore, not be unwilling to suppress myself in order to yield to others.
I am still of the opinion that the "designation petitions" submitted through the Tsan Cheng Yuan are unsuited to the demands of the time; and the official acceptance of the Imperial Throne made on the 11th day of the 12th month of last year (11th December, 1915) is hereby cancelled. "The designation petitions" of the Provinces and of the Special Administrative Areas are hereby all returned through the State Department to the Tsan Cheng Yuan, i.e., the acting Li Fa Yuan (Parliament), to be forwarded to the petitioners for destruction; and all the preparations connected therewith are to cease at once. In this wise I hope to imitate the sincerity of the Ancients by taking on myself all the blame so that my action may fall in line with the spirit of humanity which is the expression of the will of Heaven. I now cleanse my heart and wash my thoughts to the end that trouble may be averted and the people may have peace. Those who advocated the monarchical system were prompted by the desire to strengthen the foundation of the country; but as their methods have proved unsuitable their patriotism might harm the country. Those who have opposed the monarchy have done so out of their desire to express their political views. It may be therefore presumed that they would not go to the extreme and so endanger the country. They should, therefore, all hearken to the voice of their own conscience and sacrifice their prejudices, and with one mind and one purpose unite in the effort of saving the situation so that the glorious descendants of the Sacred Continent may be spared the horrors of internal warfare and the bad omens may be changed into lucky signs.
In brief I now confess that all the faults of the country are the result of my own faults. Now that the acceptance of the Imperial Throne has been cancelled every man will be responsible for his own action if he further disturbs the peace of the locality and thus gives an opportunity to others. I, the Great President, being charged with the duty of ruling over the whole country, cannot remain idle while the country is racing to perdition. At the present moment the homesteads are in misery, discipline has been disregarded, administration is being neglected and real talents have not been given a chance. When I think of such conditions I awake in the darkness of midnight. How can we stand as a nation if such a state of affairs is allowed to continue? Hereafter all officials should thoroughly get rid of their corrupt habits and endeavour to achieve merits. They should work with might and main in their duties, whether in introducing reforms or in abolishing old corruptions. Let all be not satisfied with empty words and entertain no bias regarding any affair. They should hold up as their main principle of administration the policy that only reality will count and deal out reward or punishment with strict promptness. Let all our generals, officials, soldiers and people all, all, act in accordance with this ideal.
This attempt at an Amende honorable, so far from being well-received, was universally looked upon as an admission that Yuan Shih-kai had almost been beaten and that a little more would complete his ruin. Though, as we have said, the Northern troops were fighting well in his cause on the upper reaches of the great Yangtsze, the movement against him was now spreading as though it had been a dread contagious disease, the entire South uniting against Peking. His promise to open a proper Legislative Chamber on 1st May was met with derision. By the middle of April five provinces—Yunnan, Kueichow, Kwangsi, Kwangtung and Chekiang—had declared their independence, and eight others were preparing to follow suit. A Southern Confederacy, with a Supreme Military Council sitting at Canton, was organized, the brutal Governor Lung Chi Kwang having been won over against his master, and the scholar Liang Ch'i-chao flitting from place to place, inspiring move after move. The old parliament of 1913 was reported to be assembling in Shanghai, whilst terrorist methods against Peking officials were bruited abroad precipitating a panic in the capital and leading to an exodus of well-to-do families who feared a general massacre.
An open agitation to secure Yuan Shih-kai's complete retirement and exile now commenced. From every quarter notables began telegraphing him that he must go,—including General Feng Kuo-chang who still held the balance of power on the Yangtsze. Every enemy Yuan Shih-kai had ever had was also racing back to China from exile. By the beginning of May the situation was so threatening that the Foreign Legations became alarmed and talked of concerting measures to insure their safety. On the 6th May came the coup de grâce. The great province of Szechuan, which has a population greater than the population of France, declared its independence; and the whole Northern army on the upper reaches of the Yangtsze was caught in a trap. The story is still told with bated breath of the terrible manner in which Yuan Shih-kai sated his rage when this news reached him—Szechuan being governed by a man he had hitherto thoroughly trusted—one General Chen Yi. Arming himself with a sword and beside himself with rage he burst into the room where his favourite concubine was lying with her newly-delivered baby. With a few savage blows he butchered them both, leaving them lying in their gore, thus relieving the apoplectic stroke which threatened to overwhelm him. Nothing better illustrates the real nature of the man who had been so long the selected bailiff of the Powers.
On the 12th May it became necessary to suspend specie payment in Peking, the government banks having scarcely a dollar of silver left, a last attempt to negotiate a loan in America having failed. Meanwhile under inspiration of General Feng Kuo-chang, a conference to deal with the situation was assembling at Nanking; but on the 11th May, the Canton Military Government, representing the Southern Confederacy, had already unanimously elected Vice-President Li Yuan Hung as president of the Republic, it being held that legally Yuan Shih-kai had ceased to be President when he had accepted the Throne on the previous 13th December. The Vice-President, who had managed to remove his residence outside the Palace, had already received friendly offers of protection from certain Powers which he declined, showing courage to the end. Even the Nanking Conference, though composed of trimmers and wobblers, decided that the retirement of Yuan Shih-kai was a political necessity, General Feng Kuo-chang as chairman of the Conference producing at the last moment a telegram from the fallen Dictator declaring that he was willing to go if his life and property were guaranteed.
A more dramatic collapse was, however, in store. As May drew to an end it was plain that there was no government at all left in Peking. The last phase had been truly reached. Yuan Shih-kai's nervous collapse was known to all the Legations which were exceedingly anxious about the possibility of a soldiers' revolt in the capital. The arrival of a first detachment of the savage hordes of General Chang Hsun added Byzantine touches to a picture already lurid with a sickened ruler and the Mephistophelian figure of that ruler's âme damnée, the Secretary Liang Shih-yi, vainly striving to transmute paper into silver, and find the wherewithal to prevent a sack of the capital. It was said at the time that Liang Shih-yi had won over his master to trying one last throw of the dice. The troops of the remaining loyal Generals, such as Ni Shih-chung of Anhui, were transported up the Yangtsze in an attempt to restore the situation by a savage display,—but that effort came to nought.
The situation had become truly appalling in Peking. It was even said that the neighbouring province of Shantung was to become a separate state under Japanese protection. Although the Peking administration was still nominally the Central Government of China, it was amply clear to observers on the spot that by a process of successive collapses all that was left of government was simply that pertaining to a city-state of the antique Greek type—a mal-administration dominated by the enigmatic personality of Liang Shih-yi. The writ of the capital no longer ran more than ten miles beyond the city walls. The very Government Departments, disgusted with, and distrustful of, the many hidden influences at work, had virtually declared their independence and went their own way, demanding foreign dollars and foreign banknotes from the public, and refusing all Chinese money. The fine residuum of undisputed power left in the hands of the Mal-administrator-in-chief, Liang Shih-yi, was the control of the copper cash market which he busily juggled with to the very end netting a few last thousands for his own purse, and showing that men like water inevitably find their true level. In all China's tribulations nothing similar had ever been seen. Even in 1900, after the Boxer bubble had been pricked and the Court had sought safety in flight, there was a certain dignity and majesty left. Then an immense misfortune had fallen across the capital; but that misfortune was like a cloak which hid the nakedness of the victim; and there was at least no pretence at authority. In the Summer of 1916, had it not been for the fact that an admirable police and gendarmerie system, comprising 16,000 men, secured the safety of the people, there can be little doubt that firing and looting would have daily taken place and no woman been safe. It was the last phase of political collapse with a vengeance: and small wonder if all Chinese officials, including even high police officers, sent their valuables either out of the city or into the Legation Quarter for safe custody. Extraordinary rumours circulated endlessly among the common people that there would be great trouble on the occasion of the Dragon Festival, the 5th June; and what actually took place was perhaps more than a coincidence.
Early on the 6th June an electric thrill ran through Peking—Yuan Shih-kai was dead! At first the news was not believed, but by eleven o'clock it was definitely known in the Legation Quarter that he had died a few minutes after ten o'clock that morning from uraemia of the blood—the surgeon of the French Legation being in attendance almost to the last. A certificate issued later by this gentleman immediately quieted the rumours of suicide, though many still refused to believe that he was actually dead. "I did not wish this end," he is reported to have whispered hoarsely a few minutes before he expired, "I did not wish to be Emperor. Those around me said that the people wanted a king and named me for the Throne. I believed and was misled." And in this way did his light flicker out. If there are sermons in stones and books in the running brooks surely there is an eloquent lesson in this tragedy! Before expiring the wretched man issued the following Death Mandate in accordance with the ancient tradition, attempting as the long night fell on him to make his peace with men:—