In Szechwan there is a great chance for the people to recover themselves for their province is rich in vegetation, as well as in other products. But there has been no systematic development here, as in some other provinces. Lack of development of natural resources is one reason why China is poor and weak. If you look at the great countries of the world you will see that they are strong because they have developed their mining and other industries to make the things they want, and to give employment to their people. In China most of the work is done on farms, and we have to spend our money buying other things that we need from foreign countries. That is not right. Consequently the Generalissimo and I are working hard to have a new movement started to develop the natural resources of the country, start industries to manufacture the necessities we must have, and improve agriculture so that we can grow all we need to eat. This movement will be the People’s Economic Reconstruction Movement, and we want all of you students to understand what it means to China. It means that if China takes lessons from the good foreign countries she in time can be strong and powerful, and can get rich, too. Also no one will dare to take advantage of her and rob her of her territory. But we must all work hard and educate the people to understand the reasons for such a new movement. All of us want our country to be strong and rich, and that is the means by which it can be done. There is no magic about it. Riches are not conjured out of a magician’s hat. They have to be worked for. We must be wise and open up our country. If we do not we will surely become the slaves of some other country who wants to take what we have. The Generalissimo is doing his utmost out here to teach the officials and the people what they must do. In that work of teaching everyone must help.
. . . So far, we have been only to Chungking. It is a city built on a high hill at the junction of two rivers — the Yangtzekiang and the Kialing. Long flights of steps lead up from the water; up and down go the travelers, jostling with the carriers of water, and the bearers of freight. Now there is a motor road, and many wide streets at the top. Five years ago there were no wheeled vehicles here. Now there are many motorcars and hundreds of rickshaws. Previously people rode in chairs, carried by coolies. The main road goes to Chengtu, the capital, and people can travel there in two days. Just a little while ago it took weeks to do the journey.
Back in Nanking, Chiang turned once more to the ever-increasing Japanese trouble. His own people were being stirred up again to impatience, and whenever the Japanese could they took exception to statements in Chinese newspapers and magazines, becoming more and more petulant and exacting. When Chiang still took the more discreet way and punished the editors responsible for these “anti-Japanese” expressions, the intellectuals and students reached the boiling point of rage. However, there was a general belief that things could not go on forever as they were; and the modern patriots were happy in their expectations, while the old conservatives were apprehensive. Foreigners watched eagerly and laid bets as to the future; rumors swept the treaty ports that Chiang had declared war; that Chiang had defied Japan at last; that Chiang had sold out . . . .
An American newspaperman who was interviewing Madame Chiang at that time asked her with as much delicacy as he could muster if the Generalissimo was ever going to resist. It was just after one of Chiang’s statements that China would go into action when the limits of endurance had been reached; Japan had sent one of the courteous blackmailing notes for which she was becoming famous, and the correspondent was endeavoring to discover just where those limits were to be found. He took a long time to ask the question, and he used roundabout words: “Now, Madame, do you suppose that an eventuality is likely to take place soon, uh, I mean, is the Generalissimo planning — that is, in what spirit do you think the nation would take any more aggressive action on the part of Japan? When the Generalissimo says ‘limits of our patience,’ does he — that is to say, will he — ?”
At that moment Donald came into the room, and Madame Chiang with one speech scattered all her interviewer’s ceremony. “Don,” she said crisply, “Morris is asking me how much longer we’re going to stand for this Japanese flimflam.”
The reply, however, was not forthcoming.
Public attention was diverted for a time when in November, at the Nineteenth Plenary Session of the Central Executive Committee, there was a nearly successful attempt to assassinate Wang Ching-wei. He was, in fact, wounded, and rumor ran wild about the occurrence. It was said that he was being punished for his friendly attitude toward Japan; some people alleged that the highest powers in the land had arranged for this attempt, and the Fascist secret society of “Blue Shirts” were supposed to have been responsible for what is often termed in China his “execution.” Wang, however, lived and went abroad the following February, to seek a doctor in Germany who would be able to extract the bullet, which was lodged near his spine. His post as President of the Executive Yuan was bestowed upon Chiang Kai-shek.
The Japanese continued to grab territory, piece by piece. In January of 1936 they took Kalgan, the capital of Chahar Province, and though the final arrangement did not give this part of China wholly to Japan, their troops remained.
Then one of the chief events of the decade took place; the South revolted again. It was not officially a revolt against Nanking, but the underlying idea was so near as made no difference. In June, Chen Chi-tang, Li Tsung-jen and Pai Chung-hsi telegraphed Chiang and demanded that he resist Japan formally and definitely. (Kwangsi, incidentally, was overrun with Japanese advisers and Japan-made planes, bought on credit.) When Chiang did not obey they started operations toward the North, the Kwangsi army marching into Hunan and the Kwangtung army preparing to go into Kiangsu. The military leaders expected the customary reaction to similar tactics; a joining-up of all the other leaders, who would, they felt certain, be glad of another excuse to challenge the Generalissimo’s power, and they also thought that Chiang himself would make concessions and bargain with them. An interesting thing happened instead. Everybody in China and many people outside united in condemning them for taking such action at a time of emergency.
There was an avalanche of telegrams begging them to desist, and word came from people they had counted upon as they counted upon themselves, condemning the time-honored formula. On top of everything else, the Kwangtung air force, which consisted of forty planes, took off one morning — July first — and flew out of Canton to Nanchang, announcing that they were on the Generalissimo’s side. The Southern revolt was crushed, and in a few more weeks the entire matter had been cleared up. Chiang explained his attitude and promised that China should go to war as soon as she was forced to recognize Manchukuo. Chen Chi-tang ran away and the other leaders made friends with Nanking. Feng Yu-hsiang came out in defense of his old enemy Chiang and was appointed vice-chairman of the Commission for Military Affairs. Pai Chung-hsi and Li Tsung-jen were placed in responsible positions in Kwangsi, while Kwangtung came under the direct government of Nanking. United China had been challenged and had met the challenge. In spite of mutterings and impatience, Chiang’s leadership was accepted.
This proof of consolidation in their Promised Land probably alarmed the Japanese and certainly brought forth a new show of aggression. As a result, “incidents” took place with increasing frequency; here and there Japanese stationed in China were killed. After the murder of a Japanese marine in Shanghai, the island empire multiplied its claims and pushed them. The Kuomintang must be dissolved, they insisted; it was anti-Japanese. Children in China must not be taught to hate Japan. Newspapers and other periodicals must be censored more strictly, Japanese nationals must be protected, and if the Chinese government could not do it the Japanese marines were ready and willing.
For a while China was obedient. The “incidents” were investigated; now and then an arrest was made. Textbooks were censored here and there, and it was a black and exasperating time for all political writers and publishers; many were put into jail and all were cribbed and confined in their work. In Shanghai, where the officials spent their weeken
ds and one could sometimes get a glimpse of Madame Chiang, there was a heavy, expectant sort of silence. The foreign newspapers were the only ones that dared discuss Japanese incidents freely, but there was no limit to bootleg discussion and tea-house gossip. Always sensation-loving and credulous, the Chinese of the sophisticated centers began to give free play to their imaginations. Chiang Kai-shek was pro-Japanese; he was half-Japanese anyway, and educated in Japan, they said. The Soongs, too, were partly Japanese . . . . Nobody really believed it and one was not expected to take it seriously, but the childish allegations kept pouring out, evidence of the petty explosions that were their only exhaust.
The year 1936 also marked the growth of the Government’s summer resort at Kuling. This is a settlement on the top of Lu-shan, a mountain some miles from the pottery center of Kiukiang, on the Yangtze. For years it had been a summer resort for officials, schools and missions when they fled from the terrible heat of the Yangtze Valley. Lu-shan rises abruptly from the plain, and within the hour one leaves the dust, the sounds and smells of the lowlands for fresh blowing air and the scent of pines. A thousand years ago Po Chu-yi wrote to a friend:
In the autumn of last year I visited Lu-shan for the first time. Reaching a point between the Eastern Forest and Western Forest Temples, beneath the Incense-Burner Peak, I was enamored by the unequaled prospect of cloud-girt waters and spray-clad rocks. Unable to leave this place, I built a cottage here. Before it stand ten tall pines and a thousand tapering bamboos. With green creepers I fenced my garden; with white stones I made bridge and path. Flowing waters encircle my home; flying spray falls between the eaves. Red pomegranate and white lotus cluster on the steps of the pond. All is after this pattern, though I cannot here name each delight. Whenever I come here alone, I am moved to prolong my stay to ten days; for of the things that have all my life pleased me, not one is missing. So that not only do I forget to go back, but would gladly end my days here . . . .
So with the Chiangs, who would gladly have spent all their time in the house on top of the hill, and the walks and paths through the garden where the Generalissimo loved to stroll with Madame Chiang on his arm. They set a new fashion here of simple living, and the rest of the officials pretended, at least, to follow their example.
Chiang’s birthday was celebrated that year in the same district, which was so soon to see the most sensational development of his career. He had been called to Sian on October twenty-second in order to confer with the Young Marshal on a spot of trouble that was being stirred up by his old enemies the Communists. Chang Hsueh-liang in his new capacity as Communist-fighter had been stationed there for some time, and was not finding his work particularly easy. It was not that the Reds fought back; they didn’t. Nobody was fighting at all; that was the trouble. The long uneventful days had given his troops a chance to think things over for themselves, and they decided that they were tired of this civil war. No doubt there was a good deal of judicious propaganda working on them at the same time, and it was effective. If they were to fight, they said, why could they not fight Japan, China’s real enemy? The Young Marshal heard these mutterings and pressed the Generalissimo for a visit. He did not at first make clear to his chief how much he himself was now in favor of this argument; Yang Hu-cheng, the Shensi commander, had practically converted him. Nevertheless he tried to persuade Chiang to come to terms with the Reds.
Chiang did not realize for months that Yang was on the other side. To anyone familiar with the Commander-in-Chief’s character it is not surprising that he refused to listen to Chiang’s pleas. He was peremptory with both the Young Marshal and with Yang, scolding them roundly for allowing the campaign to slip into what appeared to be innocuous desuetude. Yang was in reality very friendly with the Communists, and the Generalissimo’s attitude did not satisfy him, but Chiang Kai-shek felt he had done as much as was necessary for the moment, and went off to Loyang to meet Madame Chiang, to hold a simple birthday ceremony, and to call a military conference on the situation. Chang Hsueh-liang attended this conference.
The Generalissimo’s fiftieth birthday was the occasion for nationwide celebration. Never before had it been so evident that Chiang had become a popular hero, held in the same veneration as was Sun Yat-sen. Everywhere were flags and popping firecrackers and parties. In Loyang the Chiangs themselves merely had a breakfast to which the military conference was invited, but in Nanking there was wild excitement over the fifty-five new planes which had been presented to the Government in his honor by the Chinese people. An unsentimental gift, perhaps, but a practical one.
The country’s lighthearted hopefulness was due in part to public ignorance of the situation in the Northwest, which had not been settled by Chiang’s strong-handed measures, but on the contrary was aggravated. Every action on the part of Nanking that was calculated to stop the mischief merely roused the soldiers, a combination by this time of Chang Hsueh-liang’s troops and the Communists they had been asked to fight. They spoke among themselves and resolved to insist upon a showdown, first with the Generalissimo and then with Japan. The Young Marshal realized the danger of this development and again urged the Generalissimo to resist Japan now, saying that he could not be responsible any longer for his men. They were exiles from their own country and eager for a chance to get their own back.
In all his ensuing behavior during the Sian Incident, the Young Marshal’s friends stoutly deny that he had any intention of betraying his chief. Donald is especially emphatic that the Sian kidnaping was in no sense a revolt or a mutiny. Chang Hsueh-liang, though he may not be what is called a “strong character,” especially in comparison with the Generalissimo’s iron nature, is no fool. He was in a difficult position at Sian and the difficulty lay mostly in the fact that he could understand the claims of both sides, Chiang’s and Yang’s. Too much sympathy with the other side of a question is usually fatal to a soldier’s fighting capacity, and that was Chang’s misfortune. He was spurred on to violent action by his Northwest associates, yet when the test came he found he could not be disloyal to Chiang. Still his wavering in both cases may well have been the salvation of China; certainly the Generalissimo’s capture and release united the country as nothing else could have done.
Chiang Kai-shek went to Sian on December seventh, determined to put down this Red foolishness once and for all. One of his special units, which he had left up in Shensi in reply to the complaint of the Young Marshal’s men that he would not use his own soldiers, had been defeated in a battle with the Communists. Yang Hu-cheng’s soldiers had just voted on their own to fight Japan. The Generalissimo decided to attend to this insubordination in person. He had no idea that it would not be safe to go; had he not visited there only six weeks before? Two years of traveling about freely, after his triumphant tour of the Northwest and the West with Madame Chiang, had given him complete confidence in his personal safety at the hands of his people. It was to be only a short trip, so Madame Chiang went to Shanghai for a visit and a rest, as she was not well.
Nobody expected anything sensational from this little expedition. The Generalissimo often traveled about on such errands, and though his high officials were aware of tension in Shensi, tension in regard to the Communists was nothing new. Among the many impossible rumors that have circulated since the occurrence of the Sian Incident, there is a hardy one to the effect that the kidnaping was a put-up job, that the Generalissimo had arranged it, and that Madame Chiang and a few personal friends expected it. The advantages of such a piece of play acting, according to this story, lie in the fact that in the crisis the Government people showed their true colors; those who were loyal to Chiang proved it, whereas his enemies came out into the open. Therefore the Generalissimo was never really in danger.
Strange things happen in China, and the Sian Incident was strange enough in truth without these elaborations of fancy. It is most unlikely that the Generalissimo’s group found it necessary to go to such lengths in order to discover their enemies. Like other governments, the Chinese leade
rs are pretty well aware of the sentiments of their colleagues; it needs no melodramatic trick to discover their sympathies. Chiang’s astonishment at the revolt was genuine; he attempted to escape, and thus hurt himself badly. Donald in defense of his first protégé still maintains that Chiang would have been better off had he submitted quietly and treated the matter like an impromptu conference and nothing more. Others point out that this would have been true had the matter been in the hands of the Young Marshal alone, but Yang Hu-cheng’s intentions were not so pacific; Chiang was certainly in danger of his life for a while.
It seems best for the time being to take what we have been told as a framework, and to fill it in with speculation that is not completely idle. The Diary extracts that have been published, with Madame Chiang’s account of the matter, Sian, a Coup d’Etat, supply us with an outline of event.
Active trouble began on December ninth, when a procession of students tried to march out to Lintung, the hot-springs resort near the city where the Generalissimo was staying. When they refused to obey the orders of the police at the city gate to stop and return home, the police fired and wounded two youngsters. This incident, as might be expected, did more harm than many political meetings, however quarrelsome, could have done.
Chiang’s uncompromising attitude is best expressed in his own words. In the introduction to his Diary the Generalissimo says:
I inquired about the conditions at the front and gave them (the Commanders of the bandit suppression troops) my orders. I told them that the bandit suppression campaign had been prosecuted to such a stage that it would require only the efforts of “the last five minutes” to achieve the final success. I urged them to perform their duty with courage and determination. I also called them to conferences at which we discussed questions of strategy, and I explained to them my views. Judging them with an unprejudiced mind, I found that the Commanders of the Northeastern troops were loyal to the country and fully understood the principle of righteousness. I had not the slightest suspicion of their treachery. Unexpectedly a mutiny broke out, almost under the tip of my nose, and threatened my personal safety. As I had full confidence in them, I neglected to take precautions. For this I should blame myself and not others.