May 5, 1919

Another visit from Williams, who will not be comforted. He is a China expert and an able adviser to the President. To him China is not only important, it is the world problem. As a matter of fact, I understand his feelings perfectly. “The Japs have gotten more than they asked for. They should give China, who engineered the deal, the Order of the Kite or some other equally high-flying decoration. That speck of land which they have graciously agreed to give back to China is a dot on the harbor head which they have found of no value and of course give it back, and gladly. Never was a reputation for sweet reasonableness and even generosity achieved at such little cost. But they keep the railroad into the heart of Shantung, not to mention the mines and the other properties which the Germans stole —of course, only temporarily, but that means for the ages. Now the policeman comes along, rebukes the robber, but allows him to keep the stolen property. This railway, with its branches and the tributary lines yet to be built, will give the Japs economic supremacy and political dominance in China right up to the Turkestan frontier.” Williams knows more about China than any man here, but the very fact that he has spent practically his whole life in the Middle Kingdom prevents him, it seems to me, from seeing the world picture. I asked him if he did not think that the fact that at considerable loss in blood and treasure the Japanese had driven the Germans out of Shantung should be taken into consideration and that the Chinese should abandon their silent but very effective boycott of Japanese goods, dating from 1915, in recognition of World War benefits received. He did not think so. He thought even less of my plea that perhaps it would be wise of the Chinese to allow the Japanese the same trading rights in the territory they had at the loss of several thousand dead reconquered, which China had accorded some years before to the Germans in compensation for the murder of two missionaries.

“I am sorry for the poor Japanese peasant, too,” insisted Williams. “He is a pawn in the hands of his imperialistic leaders. They are after the conquest of Asia, as a preliminary to world conquest, and their first objective is the coal and iron of Shantung, which they need for their domestic economy as well as for their wider, more far-reaching plans of conquest.”

While Williams was still with us word came over the phone from the President’s house that as a conciliatory gesture the Tokyo government had agreed to withdraw all troops from Shantung.

“I have no doubt they will do it,” said Williams bitterly. “Then they will hire a few starving coolies to throw stones at a passing train or even bum a bridge and then, of course, the Japanese will be forced to order back their garrisons.”

When told that the decision had been practically left in the hands of Baffour, Williams was amazed. “Why, only yesterday, he, Balfour, summoned the Chinese delegates to his hotel and counseled patience on their part, while at the same time he admitted he was disappointed that the settlement had not followed more generous lines. Then he spoke a few ‘promising’ words which promised absolutely nothing. Of course, China will not give up the province of Confucius without a long struggle. The only thing final about the arrangement is that we Americans have sacrificed the last atom of prestige that we possessed in China.”

Later. There is much excitement in Conference circles as the result of the meeting which was called on the evening of April 29 to discuss Chinese affairs. It was held in the famous salle in the well-named rue Danton, where so much verbal dynamite is touched off at all seasons of the year. As a matter of fact, the near-riot that developed was not anticipated and probably exceeded in fury the fondest hopes of those who fomented it. In the tranquil days of three weeks ago the meeting was announced under the joint auspices of the Chinese Society for International Peace and the French Ligue des Droits de l’Homme. There was reassurance in the announcement that Ferdinand Buisson, a parliamentary dreamer I had often met and greatly liked, was to preside. But when the Shantung negotiations became acute it was thought that the numerous Chinese students in Paris would take control and turn the meeting into an assemblage to denounce the cold-blooded selfishness of Europe and particularly of America in side-stepping all responsibility for the Shantung settlement. And this is exactly what they did.

At the urgent request of Charles R. Crane [the wealthy, devoted champion of democratic China, liberal Russia, and all Slavs everywhere], I accompanied him to the meeting and I went in uniform. It seemed to me that things had reached a sad state when an American officer would think it wise, as he suggested, to go disguised to an assemblage of Chinese. He said that he feared things had come to an ugly pass and he admitted that even he, after all the time and money he had spent in furthering republican institutions and popular education in China, had received in the last few days not a few threatening letters.

Crane talked to the meeting very sensibly for about ten minutes, counseling patience and assuring the students that while the Chinese cause had experienced a setback nothing was permanently lost.

Crane had hoped that his prestige and deserved popularity with the students, so numerous in the audience, whom he had assisted in many ways, would have a calming effect on them, but I am bound to say that this desirable result was not in the least achieved. He was frequently interrupted with insulting remarks, addressed it is true more to our delegation than to the speaker. Then with a sudden idea, which it seemed to me was a most unhappy one, Crane said that he now proposed to yield the tribune to me, whom he described as a man who had lived in China and who, in a certain critical moment during the war with Japan, in his capacity as secretary of the American Legation in Tokyo, and under instructions from the Department of State, had ably protected the lives and the property of many Chinese Nationals who were caught in Japan when the war came. I admitted that this was true, although I protested that the value of my services had been greatly exaggerated by my introducer. In reply to one heckler, while I admitted that I served the American delegation in a subordinate capacity, I denied that I had in any way contributed to the decision that had been reached and that I had no certain knowledge as to its terms. The students and their Chinese friends, male and female, gave me after their first outbreak a respectful hearing, but as I descended from the raised dais the cries that arose from the audience made it quite clear that my appeal for patience and for a continuance of confidence in the Western Powers had failed signally of the hoped-for effect. .

Whenever the meeting threatened to get out of hand, and this happened frequently, Louis Laloy, the well-known French publicist, would put in a word of sanity and things would calm down, but only for a moment. Indeed, I must confess that listening to the threats that came from every quarter of the hall against Wilson and his “Japanese friends” I became alarmed for the safety of our President. The young students, boys as well as girls, vied with one another in menacing words and, of course, I could not forget that assassination has become a popular political weapon in the new Chinese era.

After Crane and I withdrew from the platform (where no one sought to detain us) the proceedings were more to the liking of the audience and, I must also confess, more interesting to me. Wang Ching Wei,¹ a young engineer just back from China, drew a picture, partly in well-chosen English words, of the despair to which the people would be reduced when they heard of the Shantung betrayal that I found particularly moving. More violent in language was a charming little lady who was introduced as Mlle. Emilie Tcheng, an art student, who spoke excellent French. She said repeatedly we must change our tactics. “We must stop preaching peace. We must go in for force,” and the little coterie of girl students who surrounded her went wild with delight at the new policy she announced. The boy students were a little sulky, for clearly Mlle. Emilie had grabbed most of the spotlight. Then Eugene Cheng, the editor of the Shanghai paper, whom Yuan Shih-kai had threatened to skin alive if he ever laid hands on him, introduced a resolution to be forwarded to the United States Senate denouncing the Big Four, and particularly Wilson. While it was in process of being voted on, unanimously, I believe, I left the hall.

As the meeting broke up after several more fiery speeches from students, which probably it was fortunate we did not understand, the air was one of menace and even of threats to Wilson. Crane, while admitting that their provocation was great, was shocked at the behavior of the men of whom it might be said that many were his protégés and pensioners. He returned with me to the Crillon, and after a talk with the Colonel, and with his approval, I got in touch with Chief Moran of the Federal Secret Service, charged with the protection of the delegation while in Paris, and also with Colonel Starling of the White House police, the President’s “shadow.” I was glad to learn from them that they were both on their toes and fully alive to the ferment among the Chinese which had so suddenly developed. “We shall do our best,” said Starling, “but the President is a hard man to protect. He seems amused when we urge upon him the necessity of precautions here to which he was not accustomed in Washington.”