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.
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