Dr. Wu Ting-fang was present in Chinese costume and a little purple skull cap, and we sat down to talk together. He related the moves made by President Yuan against the democratic party (Kuo Min Tang) in parliament and said: "Yuan Shih-kai's sole aim is to get rid of parliament. He has no conception of free government, is entirely a man of personal authority. The air of absolutism surrounds him. Beware," Dr. Wu admonished, "when you get behind those high walls of Peking. The atmosphere is stagnant. It seems to overcome men and make them reactionary. Nobody seems to resist that power!"
Later I was accosted on a momentous matter by an American missionary. He was not affiliated with any missionary society, but had organized a so-called International Institute for a Mission among the Higher Classes. His mien betrayed overburdening care, ominous presentiment, and he said he had already submitted a grave matter to the Department of State. It concerned the Saturday Lunch Club. Somewhat too precipitately I spoke with gratification of its apparent success. "But, sir," he interposed, "it was established and set in motion by the consul-general!"
As still I could not see wherein the difficulty lay, my visitor became emphatic.
"Do you not realize, sir, that my institute was established to bring the different nationalities together, and that the formation of such a club should have been left to me?"
When I expressed my feeling that there was no end of work to be done in the world in establishing relationships of goodwill; that every accomplishment of this kind was to be received with gratitude, he gave me up. I had thought, at first, that he was about to charge the consul-general, at the very least, with embezzlement.
That afternoon I inspected the student battalion of St. John's University. This institution is modern, affiliated with the Episcopalian Church, and many of its alumni are distinguished in public life as well as in industrial enterprise and commerce. Of these I need only mention Dr. W.W. Yen, Dr. Wellington Koo, Dr. Alfred Sze, and Dr. Wang Chung-hui, later Chief Justice of China. Dr. Hawks Pott, the president, introduced me to the assembled students as an old friend of China. There I met Dr. Pott's wife, a Chinese lady, and several of their daughters and sons, two of whom later fought in the Great War.
A newspaper reporter brought me back abruptly to local matters. He was the first to interview me in China. "Will you remove the American marines," he queried, "from the Chienmen Tower?"
A disturbing question! I was cautious, as I had not even known there were marines posted on that ancient tower. Whether they ought to be kept there was a matter to look into, along with other things affecting the destiny of nations.
I could not stop to see Shanghai then, but did so later. If one looks deeply enough its excellences stand out. The private gardens, behind high walls, show its charm; acres covered with glorious plants, shrubs, and bushes; rows and groves of springtime trees radiant with blossoms; the parks and the verandas of clubs where people resort of late afternoons to take their tea; the glitter of Nanking Road at night, its surge of humanity, the swarming life on river and creeks. This is the real Shanghai, market and meeting place of the nations.
Nanking came next, visited the 4th of November. Forlorn and woeful the old capital lay in gray morning light as we entered. The semi-barbarous troops of Chang Hsun lined its streets. They had sacked the town, ostensibly suppressing the last vestiges of the "Revolution." General Chang Hsun, an old imperialist, still clinging to ancient customs, had espoused the cause of President Yuan. A rough soldier quite innocent of modernity, he had taken Nanking, not really for the republican government, but for immediate advantage to himself, and for his soldiers to loot and burn. There they stood, huge, black-uniformed, pig-tailed men, "guarding" the streets along which the native dwellers were slinking sullenly and in fear. Everywhere charred walls without roofs; the contents of houses broken and cast on the street; fragments of shrapnel in the walls—withal a depressing picture of misery.