that it is not likely to be eliminated by any arguments which China can produce, either as a monarchy or a republic.

On the other hand, Yuan Shih-k'ai is well aware that tamely to submit to foreign dictation in such a matter could not fail to diminish his authority throughout the country and to stimulate a renewal of political agitation and conspiracies by he revolutionary leaders in Japan. His attitude in this matter has been instinct with passive fatalism, of the kind which he has displayed on more than one critical occasion. If the friendly European Powers are unable or unwilling to protect China from wanton aggression, by moral suasion or otherwise, her own resources are clearly powerless to prevent it, and the future lies therefore upon the knees of the gods.

But whether under a monarchy or a republic, under despotic or under constitutional government, China must remain confronted with those deep-rooted causes of unrest which are inseparable from its existing social system and economic condition. In a former article published in this Review,* these causes were explained, together with their effects on the domestic and foreign politics of China. Space does not permit of recapitulating them here; but it is of interest and importance to observe that the movement for the monarchical restoration is in large measure ascribable to the same economic and social causes as that which for years inspired the anti-dynastic movement of Young China, and led, by a chapter of accidents, to the proclamation of the Republic. And these same causes must continue to operate, no matter what form authority may take, precisely as they have operated for centuries, because the nation's chronic disease of disorganisation is the natural and inevitable consequence of a social and ethical system which inculcates procreative recklessness and passive helplessness.

The rapid growth of the anti-dynastic movement, from 1907 to the revolution of 1911, was undoubtedly due in great measure to the disorganisation and distress created amongst the candidates for public service after the abolition of the Confucian system of education. The old competitive system of examination in the classics, whatever its demerits, had been for centuries an important factor conducing to national cohesion and stability. After 1905, thousands of students,

The Causes of Chinese Unrest, July 1912.

wholly or partially educated on modern lines in Japan and Europe, began to return to China, seeking admission to the public service. The failure of the Government to provide posts for them, under a reorganised system of administration, was the root cause of Young China's restless conspiracies. At the same time, the literati of the old régime, whose livelihood was in jeopardy, became severely shaken in their loyalty to the Throne; thousands of 'expectant' officials in the provinces, finding themselves condemned to a life of obscure poverty, swelled the ranks of the malcontents, and the Government was thus left practically without supporters among the younger and more ambitious aspirants to public office. Had the Manchus followed a policy of divide et impera, setting one class of aspirant against another, creating finely-matched forces of Ins' and 'Outs,' the revolutionary movement might well have been checked in its earlier stages.

Just as the fundamental problem of existence amongst the teeming masses of the population lies in trying to fill two stomachs from one bowl of rice, even so economic pressure manifests itself in the higher strata of society, by producing a great cloud of candidates for every public post. Under the old classical system, those who were turned empty away became a band of Hope under the title of Expectants-an ever scheming, ever hungry horde of place-seekers; more philosophically patient than Young China, because of the ethical restraints of Confucianism, but nevertheless a constant factor of unrest. During the brief period of Young China's triumph, the men of the old régime had nothing more to hope for; the classics had been utterly overwhelmed by the rush of Western learning in top hats and frock coats. But gradually, as Yuan Shih-k'ai's hand became strengthened and as the Confucian system recovered its ancient pride of place, the problem of the unemployed or expectant official began to assume features very similar to those of the pre-revolutionary period.

According to the Peking Gazette,' there are some fifty thousand expectant officials who have qualified for office under the system of examinations which has grown up, in desultory and indeterminate fashion, since the revolution. These men have been opposed to the Republican régime, if only because it held out to them no prospect of immediate employment; they might gain, and had nothing to lose in

any case, by a change in the form of government. Hence the eagerness of the very men who acclaimed the abolition of the monarchy to make themselves as conspicuous as possible in advocating its restoration. Pending a radical reorganisation of the public service, the ' expectant' class must continue to be a source of agitation, disaffection and intrigue.

It is also to effective reorganisation of the public service, in the hands of the best men available, that the ruler of China must look to secure from the provinces regular revenues sufficient to meet the expenses of government (greatly increased by Yuan's obligations to the army), as well as the heavy burden of the nation's foreign debt. The excellent results achieved during the past two years in the reorganisation of the Salt Collectorate, under the expert direction of Sir Richard Dane, justify the belief that Yuan Shih-k'ai not only realises the necessities of the financial situation, but that he will be able in time to evolve the machinery to cope with them. China can only be saved from bankruptcy and partition by the systematic development of her own economic resources, and by the provision of revenues sufficient to enable the Central Government to pay its way without further recourse to foreign loans.

It remains to be seen whether as Emperor Yuan Shih-k'ai can carry out this stupendous task. Opinions may differ as to the capacity of the present generation of mandarins to produce the necessary qualities of personal honesty and intelligent patriotism; but the consensus of opinion is undoubtedly general and justified, that Yuan Shih-k'ai is the only national leader capable of putting an end to the devastation of civil strife and of directing the forces of reorganisation. And this being so, the mind of the masses regards his accession to the Throne as perfectly natural and proper. After the misery and disillusion of the revolutionary strife, the Mandate of Heaven is rightly given to the Strong Man. Should he fail in strength or wisdom, Heaven will take it from him again. Such is the philosophy of the Chinese, bred in them by the accumulated experience of centuries.

J. O. P. BLAND.

LUXEMBURG AND THE WAR

I ARRIVED in the Grand Duchy of Luxemburg about

three weeks before the outbreak of the war, and stayed there, in a country-place outside the main track of the military movements, until the end of October 1914. My movements were restricted. The Trier Commandant decreed that I must not wander beyond a radius of three kilomètres from my hotel, and I made very few and only quite unimportant attempts to evade the edict; but that mattered little. Though I could not go about looking for news, plenty of news was brought to me, and also plenty of rumours, plenty of gossip, and plenty of criticism of the invader.

There are many reasons why the Luxemburgers might have been expected to sympathise with the Germans. Included in the Zollverein, they do most of their trade with Germany. Though they belong to the Latin Monetary Union, they transact most of their business with German currency. The patois which they commonly speak, even in the best circles, has close affinities with the German language. Their hotels flourish on the support of German tourists. Many Germans have settled in their towns, and many of their daughters are married to Germans. And yet they do not like the Germans, and have never liked them. Before the war it was a case of 'I do not love thee, Dr. Fell, The reason why I cannot tell; But this alone I know full well, I do not love thee, Dr. Fell.'

After a week of war, the dislike had grown to loathing, and the reasons for the sentiment were obvious to all.

During the whole of my stay in the Grand Duchy, I met only one man—a small shopkeeper-who frankly avowed a desire to see his country incorporated in the German Empire. 'We 'should like,' he said, 'to remain a Grand Duchy, like Baden; 'but we already have all the inconveniences of inclusion in 'the Empire, and we may as well have the advantages also.' But that man was a lunatic and a liar. I judged that, not only

from the significant way in which his neighbours tapped their foreheads when referring to him, but also from his own

conversation.

Apart from this one small tradesman, all the Luxemburgers whom I met, to whatever class of society they belonged, detested the Germans. Or rather, to be strictly accurate, they detested the Prussians. Germans other than Prussians were vague figures whom they hardly visualised; but the figure of the Prussian was at once definite and odious to them-equally definite and equally odious to every Luxemburger from peasant to Prime Minister.

It was the Prime Minister himself-M. Eyschen, whose recent death, probably hastened by Prussian vexations, is a great loss to his country-who summed them up in the most vigorous language. A foreigner belonging to one of the Allied Countries had asked M. Eyschen's advice and help in some matter of business which would have to pass through the hands of the Prussian military authorities. The advice given was to let the business slide and do nothing which would attract the attention of the Prussians, ne pas les mettre en éveil. And then followed the criticism: Vous connaissez cette mentalité prussienne. 'Je n'ai pas besoin, je suppose, de vous renseigner là-dessus. Ils sont capables de n'importe quelle cochonnerie pour gagner 'la partie.'

They are; they have proved it in the Grand Duchy, in small matters as well as great; and it might be hard to say whether their grosser offences or their trivial acts of arrogance and bad taste have left the greater bitterness behind them. Intense indignation was felt at the action of a member of the House of Metternich who, after having been billeted on one of the leading citizens of Diekirch and regaled on the best wine in the cellars, went away without paying his bill, leaving on the dining-room table his visiting card, bearing the message: Thanks for your kind hospitality. God will reward you for it.'

One could multiply anecdotes of the kind, but these will suffice for the moment. They show what the feeling was, and they bear out, in their way, the statement which I heard that, if they had had an army of even ten thousand men, the Luxemburgers would have blown up their bridges, blown in