The mob was so plainly in control of a secret organization that the House of Representatives refused to sit.  Urgent messages were sent to the Police and Gendarmerie headquarters for reinforcements of armed men as a protection, whilst the presence of the Premier was also demanded.  Masses of police were soon on the ground, but whilst they prevented the mob from entering Parliament and carrying out their threat of burning the buildings, and murdering the members, they could not—­or would not—­disperse the crowds, it transpiring subsequently that half a battalion of infantry in plain clothes under their officers formed the backbone of the demonstrators.

It was not until nearly dark, after six or seven hours of these disorderly scenes, that the Premier finally arrived.  Cavalry had meanwhile also been massed on the main street; but it was only when the report spread that a Japanese reporter had been killed that the order was finally given to charge the mob and disperse it by force.  This was very rapidly done, as apart from the soldiers in plain clothes the mass of people belonged to the lowest class, and had no stomach for a fight, having only been paid to shout.  It was nearly midnight, after twelve hours of isolation and a foodless day, that the Representatives were able to disperse without having debated the war-question.  The upshot was that with the exception of the Minister of Education, the Premier found that his entire Cabinet had resigned, the Ministers being unwilling to be associated with what had been an attempted coercion of Parliament carried out by the Military.

The Premier, General Tuan Chi-jui, however, remained determined to carry his point, and within a week a second dispatch was sent to the House of Representatives demanding, in spite of what had happened, that the declaration of war be immediately brought up for debate.  Meanwhile publication in a leading Peking newspaper of further details covering Japan’s subterranean activities greatly inflamed the public, and made the Liberal political elements more determined than ever to stand firm.  It was alleged that Count Terauchi was reviving in a more subtle form Group V of the Twenty-one Demands of 1915, the latest Japanese proposal taking the form of a secret Treaty of twenty articles of which the main stipulations were to be a loan of twenty million yen to China to reorganize the three main Chinese arsenals under Japanese guidance, and a further loan of eighty million yen to be expended on the Japanization of the Chinese army.  As a result of this publication, which rightly or wrongly was declared to be without foundation, the editor of The Peking Gazette was seized in the middle of the night and thrown into gaol; but Parliament so far from being intimidated passed the very next day (19th May) a resolution refusing to consider in any form the declaration of war against Germany until the Cabinet had been reorganized—­which meant the resignation of General Tuan Chi-jui.  A last effort was made by the reactionary element to jockey the President into submission by presenting to the Chief Executive a petition from the Military Governors assembled in Peking demanding the immediate dissolution of Parliament.  On this proposal being absolutely rejected by the President as wholly unconstitutional, and the Military Governors soundly rated for their interference, an ominous calm followed.