This attempt at an Amende honorable, so far from being well-received, was universally looked upon as an admission that Yuan Shih-kai had almost been beaten and that a little more would complete his ruin. Though, as we have said, the Northern troops were fighting well in his cause on the upper reaches of the great Yangtsze, the movement against him was now spreading as though it had been a dread contagious disease, the entire South uniting against Peking. His promise to open a proper Legislative Chamber on 1st May was met with derision. By the middle of April five provinces—Yunnan, Kueichow, Kwangsi, Kwangtung and Chekiang—had declared their independence, and eight others were preparing to follow suit. A Southern Confederacy, with a Supreme Military Council sitting at Canton, was organized, the brutal Governor Lung Chi Kwang having been won over against his master, and the scholar Liang Ch’i-chao flitting from place to place, inspiring move after move. The old parliament of 1913 was reported to be assembling in Shanghai, whilst terrorist methods against Peking officials were bruited abroad precipitating a panic in the capital and leading to an exodus of well-to-do families who feared a general massacre.
An open agitation to secure Yuan Shih-kai’s complete retirement and exile now commenced. From every quarter notables began telegraphing him that he must go,—including General Feng Kuo-chang who still held the balance of power on the Yangtsze. Every enemy Yuan Shih-kai had ever had was also racing back to China from exile. By the beginning of May the situation was so threatening that the Foreign Legations became alarmed and talked of concerting measures to insure their safety. On the 6th May came the coup de grace. The great province of Szechuan, which has a population greater than the population of France, declared its independence; and the whole Northern army on the upper reaches of the Yangtsze was caught in a trap. The story is still told with bated breath of the terrible manner in which Yuan Shih-kai sated his rage when this news reached him—Szechuan being governed by a man he had hitherto thoroughly trusted—one General Chen Yi. Arming himself with a sword and beside himself with rage he burst into the room where his favourite concubine was lying with her newly-delivered baby. With a few savage blows he butchered them both, leaving them lying in their gore, thus relieving the apoplectic stroke which threatened to overwhelm him. Nothing better illustrates the real nature of the man who had been so long the selected bailiff of the Powers.