New Magic

Spiritualism

“I was introduced to an ex-Minister of Finance as my travelling companion...his theme of conversation was the need of a scientific investigation of spirits and spirit possession and divination etc., in order to decide scientifically the existence of the soul and an overruling mind...He certainly is much more intelligent about it than some of our American spiritualists...It seems there is quite a group of politicians in Tientsin who are much interested in psychical research. Considering that China is the aboriginal home of ghosts, I can’t see why the western investigators don’t start their research here.”

-John Dewey, Letters from China and Japan, 1920

World War One left the West reeling at the sheer numbers that were slaughtered at the height of the conflict. The loss to families and communities could not have been anticipated and in the aftermath there was a soul-wrenching coming-to-terms which radically changed the way in which people thought about themselves and their world. For some, a sense of denial set in and these people became the originators and - some would say - the dupes of the Spiritualist Movement.

Spiritualism is the belief that the human soul is immortal and that it ‘passes over’ to an existence on the ‘other side’ of this world. These souls, or spirits, are able to communicate to the living through the intercession of talented, psychic ‘sensitives’, or mediums, who are able to contact those ‘across the veil’. This contact usually takes the form of a trance generated at a meeting, or séance, where the medium is possessed by the spirit and conveys messages to the waiting group. Most mediums claim to be in touch with a recurring spirit, or ‘control’, who organises the other entities and prevents them from getting out of hand. Traditionally, the séance is not a free event: the medium and their sponsor charge for the session and this is where the whole practise becomes problematic:

In the wake of the War, many bereaved individuals contacted mediums in an attempt to ease their grief at having lost family members. Unscrupulous practitioners of the Spiritualist art often faked their pronouncements, betting on the gullibility of rich widows and widowers to rake in enormous sums. In time, as potential inheritances and fortunes shrank and relocated themselves into the pockets of con-artists, less-suggestible relatives began to investigate the activities of these “agents of the dead”, and many were exposed as the frauds they were.

Despite this, a solid core of citizens still sought to see if there was anything to the Spiritualist cause. Groups such as the Society for Psychical Research (SPR) came into existence and applied the cold eye of science to a range of phenomena, from spiritualism to hauntings. Well-known and respected pillars of society like Sir Arthur Conan-Doyle, stood up in support of the Spiritualist Movement, publishing the fruits of their own research, and Harry Houdini made a living from debunking the activities of fraudulent practitioners. Inevitably, the case became clouded and no clear-cut decision as to whether the dead could contact the living was reached: as many phony cases were revealed as there were mysterious instances without apparent explanation.

Legally however, the case was cut and dried: people were making money out of the despair of bereaved wives and mothers, clutching at fairy-stories to allay their grief. It became a crime in England to accept money for divinations or for séances; shortly afterwards, the law passed into effect in Shanghai too, where the diviner’s art was arguably more colourful but subtly more dangerous: there, a visit to a medium would almost certainly lead to blackmail, or the selling of the bereaved into slavery.

Nazi Occultism

The mystical Nazi worldview stemmed largely from the writings of Madame Helena Petrovna Blavatsky and her advocate, Guido von List. Blavatsky taught that the ‘creator race’ which was foretold, would be the fifth ‘root race’ – the Aryans - who would emerge to re-build and consecrate a new world; von List added to this notion a pastiche of Grail legend, heavily influenced by Teutonic ideas. He preached a coming paradise modelled on the Wotanic religions of yore, symbolised by a re-working of the Nordic runes which he published. Failed priest, Jörg Lanz von Liebenfels, took this viewpoint and wrapped it in some Eugenics theories which were popular at the time and broadcast the ‘Nazi occult’. After Hitler’s rise to power, he banned the writings of Lanz; Lanz had demanded more credit for the creation of the Third Reich than Hitler was prepared to give and so they tried to silence him.

Blavatsky’s hashish-mashed remembrances of the Book of Dzyan have already been discussed; but what about von List? He claimed to have had ‘visions of the past’ which put him in touch with Wotanic, or Teutonic, rituals and which allowed him to interpret the runic lore of the past. This is heavily suggestive of the use of the Liao Drug and, given the circles in which he moved, it is likely that von List would have been able to locate a copy of Ludwig Prinn’s De Vermis Mysteriis. List’s grail lore informed Wagner’s musical monomania and also Lanz’s idiot scribblings in Ostara, lending an Arthurian tone to the Third Reich’s mysticism.

Himmler’s Ahnenerbe, the archaeological office dedicated to re-writing history from a Nazi viewpoint, travelled the world in the ‘30s and early ‘40s trying to locate mystical objects to help in the success of the Third Reich; the Ark of the Covenant, the Spear of Longinus and the Holy Grail are just a few of the artefacts which they targeted for collection. Many Mythos creations were unearthed as well and led to, amongst other instances, the attempted destruction of Professor Hinterstoisser’s Prolegomena zu Einer Geschichte der Magie for reasons largely, at this time, unknown.

Emblem of the Ahnenerbe

The Book of Dzyan

“An Archaic Manuscript – a collection of palm leaves made impermeable to water, fire and air, by some specific unknown process – is before the writer’s eye...”

-‘Proem’, The Book of Dzyan, Helena Blavatsky

Referred to by Mme Blavatsky as essential to her Theosophist theories and forming the core to her magnum opus The Secret Doctrine, the original of this work has never been authenticated. In much the same fashion which von Junzt purportedly encountered the Ghorl Nigral, Blavatsky claims to have been given glimpses of the original and to have had portions quoted to her while in the lamaseries of Tibet; however, no other conclusive sighting of the sacred ‘palm leaves’ has been verified. Blavatsky’s remembered interpretations take the form of a Proem (or introduction), seven stanzas entitled Cosmic Evolution, twelve stanzas entitled Anthropogenesis and nine stanzas entitled Theogenesis, left incomplete by Mme Blavatsky and finished after her death by her followers. These are normally found within The Secret Doctrine but are occasionally found published separately as the Stanzas of Dzyan.

The original Book of Dzyan (pronounced ‘dzhahn’) is supposed to be a translation from the Atlantean tongue into the Tibetan idiom of a work detailing the evolution – both physical and spiritual – of the pre-human, human and other races dwelling upon the Earth. In this form it is a thoroughly more potent instrument, free of the hashish-blurred rememberings of La Blavatsky. The existence of an anonymous English translation with no known publication details implies that Blavatsky was probably not the only spiritual seeker to have encountered the text; it is highly likely that there are Chinese versions, or partial translations, in existence as well.

(Source: H. P. Lovecraft, Selected Letters IV)

English; translator unknown; mid- to late Nineteenth Century; Sanity loss: 1d3/1d6; Cthulhu Mythos +9 percentiles; average 14 weeks to study and comprehend

Spells: “Dreams of the Mother-water” (Contact Deity: Cthulhu); “Call Forth the Self-Born” (Summon/Bind Dark Young); “Call Forth the Egg-Born” (Summon/Bind Byakhee); “Call Forth the Chhaya!” (Summon/Bind Dimensional Shambler)

Tibetan (Lhasa/Ü-Tsang dialect), written in the Devanagari script; transliterator unknown; date unknown; Sanity loss: 1d4/1d8; Cthulhu Mythos +9 percentiles; average 40 weeks to study and comprehend

Spells: “Dreams of the Mother-water” (Contact Deity: Cthulhu); “Call Forth the Self-Born” (Summon/Bind Dark Young); “Call Forth the Egg-Born” (Summon/Bind Byakhee); “Call Forth the Chhaya!” (Summon/Bind Dimensional Shambler)

Chinese; translator unknown; date unknown; Sanity loss: 1d4/1d8; Cthulhu Mythos +9 percentiles; average 30 weeks to study and comprehend

Spells: “Dreams of the Mother-water” (Contact Deity: Cthulhu); “Call Forth the Self-Born” (Summon/Bind Dark Young); “Call Forth the Egg-Born” (Summon/Bind Byakhee); “Call Forth the Chhaya!” (Summon/Bind Dimensional Shambler)

Chinese, partial translation; translator unknown; date unknown; Sanity loss: 1d2/1d4; Cthulhu Mythos +1d6 percentiles; average 12 weeks to study and comprehend

Spells: “Dreams of the Mother-water” (Contact Deity: Cthulhu); plus one of the following: “Call Forth the Self-Born” (Summon/Bind Dark Young); “Call Forth the Egg-Born” (Summon/Bind Byakhee); “Call Forth the Chhaya” (Summon/Bind Dimensional Shambler)

*****

Joachim Feery (????-1934)

Feery was the son of the German Baron Ernst Kant and, like his father, a dedicated researcher of the supernatural. Feery had a more theoretical approach to his studies however, unlike his father who died in a Westphalian asylum, claiming that a demonic entity named Yibb-Tstll had taken control of his mind.

Feery is mainly known for the series of limited edition books which he printed, each an extended commentary on a particularly notorious book of forbidden lore with annotations and quotations. These works include The Book of Dzyan, the Cthaat Aquadingen, De Vermis Mysteriis and, most infamously, the Necronomicon. These publications have expanded the range of these hard-to-access tomes and are often utilised by hard metaphysicians where the original texts are unavailable.

A word of caution, however: while generally well-received, Feery’s books were examined by other authorities on these works and his quotations and supplementary material were found to be somewhat at odds with the original matter, if not entirely unsupported by the text. His response was that his researches had been supplemented by material which had come to him in dreams. As a result, the reception of his publishing efforts has been universally cool.

Eine Studie des Buches von Dzyan

Joachim Feery released a number of self-published books with titles similar to this one, including a commentary on the Necronomicon and Notes on the Cthaat Aquadingen. Many people have observed that, despite enough evidence to show that he had actually encountered the tomes about which he wrote, there is an abundance of ‘extra material’ contained within these monographs; Feery claimed that the extra information was revealed to him in dreams.

(Source: Brian Lumley, “An Item of Supporting Evidence”)

German; Joachim Feery; circa 1930; Sanity loss: 1/1d3; Cthulhu Mythos +3 percentiles; Occult Skill +3 percentiles; average 3 weeks to study and comprehend

Spells: (Roll INTx1 to see if one only of the following spells is detected within the discussion and revealed through inference) “Träume des Mutterwassers” (Contact Deity: Cthulhu); “Benennen Sie weiter das Selbst-Geborene” (Summon/Bind Dark Young); “Benennen Sie weiter das Ei-Geborene” (Summon/Bind Byakhee); “Benennen Sie weiter das Chhaya!” (Summon/Bind Dimensional Shambler)

A Study of the Book of Dzyan

A year after its initial German release, a hand-written translation circulated through Cambridge University in England; almost inevitably, it found its way into print in 1933 and sold sporadically to those in the know. It has suffered markedly from its clandestine handling.

English; Joachim Feery (unknown translator): A Study of the Book of Dzyan; 1933; 0/1 Sanity loss; Cthulhu Mythos +1 percentile; Occult +3 percentiles

Spells: None

What is Steampunk?

For some time I have been mulling over the notion of what comprises this much-hyped sub-genre which has been doing the rounds of the Internet and of fandom steadily for awhile. My sense is that it’s very trendy at the moment and I can see its influence in many areas: music, fashion, literature. I am however, coming very swiftly and decidedly to the conclusion that it is a genre with a lot of style but with very little substance.

To make things far more muddy than they ought to be, Steampunk has further fractured itself into a bunch of sub-sub genres: Clockpunk; Teslapunk; Dieselpunk, amongst others. Each of these has its own further fine shadings of the basic premise, but I want to pin down the basis of the main genre before jumping into these tangents. (It’s interesting to note that the Goth movement did this fracturing thing too before it got comfortable with itself and settled down.)

Essentially, Steampunk posits a world wherein the fantastic notions of such writers as Jules Verne and H.G. Wells came to pass: airships gliding on cavorite; giant pistols shooting rockets to the Moon; Lost Worlds hidden in deep jungles; invaders from Mars. As with most popular genres, the ideas build upon the foundation of an enlightened society, in which men and women have equal status and opportunities, in much the same way as many fantasy worlds do, out there in the various literary and roleplaying environments. It springboards off Victorian notions of fashion and behaviour and must – inevitably – partake of the poison chalice of the mindset of those times, with underlying philosophies of Imperialism and social hierarchy. Steampunk focuses upon technology, in much the same fashion as did its parent genre, Cyberpunk; however, its concerns seem to be wildly different.

The first Steampunk work of fiction is widely touted as Bruce Sterling and William Gibson’s The Difference Engine, a tale of the intrepid pioneers of the computing era, Charles Babbage and Ada Lovelace. The first book to be published that arguably evolved within the notion of a ‘steampunk genre’ is reputedly K.W. Jeter’s Morlock Night (and Jeter is credited with having coined the term explicitly). It can be argued though, that the works of Verne and Wells et.al., in that they test the limits of Victorian society by exposing it to outré elements, are obviously the seminal works of the realm.

These days there is a burgeoning stable of Steampunk writers out there, including China Mieville, Tim Powers, Scott Westerfeld, Cherie Priest & Philip Pullman; but these writers all split the genre even further with their myriad works, until trying to pin down the essence of ‘what is Steampunk?’ is a lot like trying to stamp on a scuttling cockroach in a dark kitchen.

Trying to identify ‘steampunk music’ is even harder: various websites list what their moderators have chosen as Steampunk bands and performers; however, a common element in trying to define what the term means with regard to music is the following: it’s Steampunk if the band says they’re Steampunk. Surely, that can’t be an objective criterion?

Websites like Etsy, which display the craft efforts of many artists, define certain works as ‘steampunk’, as long as they have cogs or clock faces on them (also octopi, which seem to have become a Steampunk motif, for some obscure reason): again, is this sufficient? It seems to me that there has to be something at the bottom of the genre; some reason for it to be around. So does Steampunk say anything about the human condition? Does it code for any universal truths which must be explored or examined? Or is it simply “Cool”?

Good writing does more than simply tell a good tale. At its core it touches upon universal experience to which the readers respond and find within it hidden depths; it also tells a good tale. Science fiction – the genre from which Steampunk ultimately derives – takes the human condition and explores what happens to it when destabilizing technologies impinge upon it. It allows us to perceive the dramatic impacts that unbridled technological excess have on society; it brings the “we can do this – but should we?” question right to the fore.

On some levels, Steampunk looks like it would do this too; however, it seems more gleefully over-the-top than the more dystopian genres, and wholly unconcerned with outcomes. In fact, the number of times I see computers and guitars and motorbikes online that have been “modded” into Steampunk constructions, the more I feel that consequences are way down on everyone’s list of things of which to be aware.

In searching for the roots of this movement, I find I focus more strongly on things that don’t openly declare themselves as part of the genre. For example, the group “Abney Park”, self-consciously yodelling about how they’re all airship pirates, is less truly Steampunk to me than Phillip Glass’ score for the movie “The Illusionist”, or the electric swing of “Caravan Palace” with its roots in Django Reinhardt’s gypsy guitar.

The notion of re-using and recycling is a very strong theme in Steampunk – the concept of building and maintaining an enormous, unwieldy piece of technology is a key element in such fiction as 20,000 Leagues under the Sea (which is also probably how we get the octopi!) and The Time Machine and is echoed by the wholesale nature of “Steampunk modding” and the "Maker Movement". But then, which is more Steampunk: Chitty-chitty Bang-bang or the Millennium Falcon? Can we classify “Dr Who”, or“Firefly” as Steampunk on the same basis (and yes, I saw the episode of “Castle” where Nathan Fillion gets up in Steampunk drag)?

A genre is defined as a series of motifs and literary or stylistic relationships that are consensually accepted by all those who experience it; if its rules don’t apply across the board, then it’s not a true genre per se. At this stage of my investigation, I’m pretty sure I can spot Steampunk when I see it but sometimes I’m brought up short by things which I’m told fall under that heading when I really don’t see how, or why.

Steampunk has to be more than cogs and goggles. Certainly it should have those too, but it needs to say something at the same time. At this point it seems to me to be a vehicle looking for something to carry.

In the meantime, I’m hoping to claim the credit for identifying the first Steampunk Poet. Here’s a piece by Roger McDonald pleasingly entitled “Airship”:

“Recovered from pale blueprints

and forgiven its heritage of charred metal

the airship moves at the wind’s direction

through the next world. A high

slipstream of time

brings it in view: just

bouncing, it seems, from cloud-edge

to treetop, almost a milky bubble.

Now, this moment we peer,

throats tensed ready to shout,

the ship tilts its nose to the sun

and its oval shadow contracts to a grasspatch

as it shimmers and disappears.

What message arrives from the mariner

trapped in this bottle? Silence.

A freak of technology has lifted his tongue –

someone, somewhere, knows and speaks his name:

perhaps he’s among us now, not yet alone.”

From “Airship”, by Roger McDonald, 1975,

University of Queensland Press, St. Lucia, Qld, Australia

*****

Rickshaw Rackets!

The rickshaw was not invented by the Chinese; in the early days of the Settlement, its place in the public transport scheme of Shanghai was occupied by the barrow. Travelling by barrow was bumpy (due to a lack of suspension technology), often crowded (riders were usually forced to double up or to share with other deliveries) and heavy work for the person doing the pushing. The first rickshaws were brought from Japan by an innovative Westerner, a French merchant named Menard, who had seen how successful they had been in that country. In Shanghai, they were formally known as ‘jinrickshas’ a Japanese word which means ‘man power vehicle’; the everyday Shanghainese however rarely used this term, preferring the word ‘dongyangche’ or ‘Japanese vehicle’. By 1913, the Municipal Council had passed regulations stating that all public rickshaws be painted yellow to distinguish them from private rickshaws; from this time they were usually called ‘huang baoche’ or ‘yellow private vehicle’ by the Shanghai Chinese residents.

Menard had approached the French Concession council in 1873 with a plan to gain a patent license to run “hand pulled vehicles” in the Concession for a period of ten years; the French Council took the proposal to the International Council and together they chose a different idea: they would allow 1,000 rickshaws to run in the two settlements (500 in each) and would issue twenty licenses each, with permits to run 25 rickshaws. As a courtesy, Menard was offered 12 of the licenses for the French Concession for a total of 300 rickshaws. By 1874, there were ten rickshaw companies run by foreign investors running the 1,000 rickshaws.

Like most industries in Shanghai, the companies set up by wealthy, white taipans were left (for some considerable interest) in the hands of capable compradors; these, in their turn passed on the wearying details of running a daily business to go-betweens (again, for a lucrative return) and the structures of these fragmented businesses became extremely frayed and hard to trace. When – inevitably – more licenses were issued by both Councils, the existing companies were quick to snap them up and rent them out to new, eager managers. Ownership of a license was signified by the expedient of an enamelled badge which was required to be affixed to the rickshaw in question.

The Councils of the foreign communities were traditionally inimical to the movement of human-powered traffic on Shanghai’s streets. The barrows of the hard-working barrowmen were marginalised in new traffic regulations aimed at freeing up space on the city’s streets: concubines deprived of this useful means of transport were often seen perched upon chairs strapped to the backs of coolies en route to their various assignations. The rickshaws became a happy medium between the two extremes and due to the fact that they were cheap, fast and could access areas of the city unable to accommodate cars, buses, or trams, were an instant hit. Working as a rickshaw-puller became a viable alternative to the shameful occupation of a coolie and many men from the farms in the districts outlying Shanghai flooded in to try their hands.

Well-meaning missionaries objected to what they saw as back-breaking labour inflicted upon the poor and homeless: inevitably, during Shanghai’s history, movements were launched to curtail or regulate the industry for the sake of the workers and their health but, as in so many instances, the outraged parties were victims of their own flawed perceptions. Pushing a barrow is a combination of lifting and pushing, where the weight of the load is supported between the front wheel and the arms and back of the barrowman; in contrast, a rickshaw and its load rests on its own wheels while the rickshaw-puller only provides momentum, directional control and a counterbalancing weight. It is a much simpler process and relatively easy on the operator. If a rickshaw-puller acted in distress to cadge an extra tip from a soft-hearted –often foreign - client, it was not usually a realistic comment on conditions.

In fact, many operators held two or more jobs. Rickshaw companies would assign vehicles to a roving throng of willing applicants over three shifts on a daily basis: pulling shifts were assigned on a ‘first-come, first served’ basis and there was no need to maintain a fixed stable of rickshaw-pullers. A worker may have had a lucky streak of several shifts’ work and as equally could attract several days of unemployment. As a result, many rickshaw pullers split their time between fixed-rate employment as factory workers (seen generally as dangerous and uncomfortable), labouring coolies (degrading and laborious) or rickshaw-pulling (relatively easy and with opportunities to earn bonus tips and other gratuities). Many older rickshaw-pullers often worked only the odd shift now and then, to provide pocket-money into their sixties and seventies. The difficulty was not so much the work (which was by no means easy) but in learning the tricks to maximise income.

The rickshaw-puller’s dream was to become the puller of a private rickshaw. This meant being placed on a retainer and being given the care of a privately-licensed vehicle attached to a company or wealthy household. Compradors, their taipans and other wealthy foreigners were often on the lookout for rickshaw-pullers who seemed to be a ‘cut above’, able to work quickly, with tact and sensitivity and with a pleasant outlook. These happy types would balance the downside of being always on call, with the relative ease of a regular pay packet and often accommodation near the garage or stable. And if they managed occasionally to rent out the rickshaw to others, their masters never needed to know.

Because the rickshaw men travelled widely across the city and were often called upon to wait for their clients for long periods at their destinations before returning them home, they were privy to much street-level information that they could parlay into extra wealth. Canny rickshaw-pullers kept their ears to the ground and quickly learned to put two and two together: an extra tip to the rickshaw man could ensure that the details of a midnight assignation would never make it to the ‘Mosquito Press’.

*****

The Shifting Tides of the Warlords

During the period between the wars, China was a hot bed of martial activity. After the death of Yuan Shi-kai, the armies which he had mobilised to defend himself and to maintain his power ran amok and sought to claim the country in a mad grab for control. The north consolidated loosely under a series of military cliques, while the south mobilised, just as loosely, under the banner of the Kuomintang and set about unifying the country. Let no-one be deceived however: every faction had its own interests in mind and joined together for mutual benefit as long as that arrangement served themselves over everyone else. This was the rotten fruit of Sun Yat-sen’s glorious vision; he would die in 1925 before his dream ever became reality, leaving the unification of China in the incendiary, paranoid hands of Chiang Kai-shek.

Origins

The Ching Dynasty had no standing army of its own; instead it utilised the resources of regional militias to enforce its will. In the north, these units combined as the Beiyang Army under the leadership of Yuan Shi-kai. After the fall of the Manchus, Yuan maintained this battle force in the vicinity of Peking. The various leaders within the army were used to receiving the best training and supplies by their support of Yuan Shi-kai and so remained loyal to him. The individual units were comprised of men with shared military experience as well as regional associations: this policy was used as a means to get around dialectical miscommunication but instead brought about a nepotistic favouritism within the army’s various factions.

After the Shin hai Revolution in 1911, a provisional government under Sun Yat-sen was established in Nanking. Rather than continue fighting against the far superior Beiyang Army, Sun approached Yuan to create a unified National Government in Nanking with Yuan as President. Yuan accepted the role but kept his capital in Peking, close to the base of his personal power.

Yuan’s growing authoritarianism promoted a southern revolt in 1913 which was ruthlessly suppressed by the Beiyang Army. In the aftermath, all civil regional governors in China were replaced by military ones with loyalties to Yuan. In 1915, in opposition to Yuan’s declaration to become Emperor of China, the southern rebels broke loose again in the War of National Protection: this time most of Yuan’s military supporters abandoned him due to his dynastic ambitions, and Yuan was forced to back down from this proposition in order to win back his troops. The damage was done however, and by the time Yuan Shi-kai died in 1916, the government of China was a fractured mess, divided into two loose alliances in the north and south.

The Northern Alliance

 

As has always happened throughout China’s history, the north separated sharply from the south. Despite their unwillingness to back Yuan Shi-kai and his imperial claims, these leaders maintained a strict loyalty to Peking and its resident government. This was not out of some historical sentimentality: the force which held the capital could engage in diplomatic wheeling and dealing and could lay claim to taxes and other levies demanded of the populace. This was the sort of practical, cash-backed power that the warlords could get their teeth into. These generals did their utmost to hold onto the power that Yuan Shi-kai had amassed and were as wary of each other as they were of the southern factions. Ironically, the star emblem under which they operated was made up of five colours each representing their various ethnic groups combined as one force.

Ownership of Peking changed throughout this period as the warlords bickered and fought over its control. Despite other factional disagreements, the generals would always agree over the right of Peking to issue edicts and place demands but could not agree as to the extent, or ability, of Peking to enforce its will. Consequently, demands were issued against enemy warlords by Peking, knowing that these would be ignored as unenforceable, and this response would be deemed an act of treason allowing the controlling warlord to attack with impunity.

In short order, the warlord armies became nothing less than bandit forces, pillaging the towns and cities and enforcing martial chaos. The usual means of extorting money from the Chinese peasantry came back into play: kidnapping, vice, drug-running and protection rackets flourished. Even westerners were not free from the lawlessness and several instances are recorded of trainloads of foreigners being held hostage until enormous ransoms were paid.

Between the years 1911 and 1930, the power amongst the northern warlords shifted in three main phases, representing three separate coalitions that controlled the north over this time. The first such group or ‘clique’ was the Anhwei Clique.

The Anhwei Clique – 1916 to 1920

The President at the time of Yuan Shi-kai’s death was Li Yuanhong, however he was virtually deposed by the Beiyang Generals. Instead the Premier, Tuan Chi-jui, took over as the government leader. Tuan pacified the Chihli clique to maintain control but many provinces rebelled, calling for Tuan’s dismissal. Tuan tried repeatedly to get China to join the First World War siding with the Allies but he met with strong opposition. Finally, when it was revealed that he had undertaken several secret loans from the Japanese, he was deposed in 1917. Li Yuanhong took over again but fearing reprisals from Tuan and his supporters, he asked the general Chang Shun for protection. Instead, Chang took the unprecedented move of reinstating the Ching Dynasty; he was defeated by Tuan who was restored to power and named the saviour of the nation: he used this new clout to declare war on Germany and then turned his attentions to the fractious south.

Here however he ran into further trouble: the Chihli clique was opposed to the notion of fighting the south, preferring negotiation to open warfare. Tuan was forced to resign in order to maintain the solidarity of the Beiyang Generals. Conversely, the Anhwei clique put pressure on President (and leader of the Chihli clique) Feng Kuo-chang to have Tuan reinstated and this was done shortly afterwards. In Hunan, where the fighting in the southern campaign was strongest, a series of reversals led to a steady war of attrition and low morale reigned: Tuan resigned once more but tried to cause as much trouble between north and south as he could whilst he did so. The end of World War One and the Treaty of Versailles had caused much disillusionment in China with Chinese efforts during the conflict largely downplayed or ignored by the foreign community: China was forced to surrender the province of Shantung to Japan (The Shantung Problem) and this in turn led to the May Fourth Movement in China, a re-evaluation of China’s cultural identity and place on the world stage. Tuan’s pro-Japanese stance alienated the growing socialism in the provinces and he was again forced from power: the Chihli clique sided with the Fengtian clique under Chang Tso-lin and forced the Anhwei clique into submission.

The Chihli Clique – 1920 to 1924

Feng Kuo-chang died shortly after the rise of the Chihli clique and was replaced, in 1922, by Tsao Kun who immediately dissolved the relationship with the Fengtian clique, attacking them and driving them back into Manchuria. Seeking to legitimise their claims to power, Tsao Kun proposed the reinstatement of Li Yuanhong as leader of a reformed National Assembly: he asked that Sun Yat-sen and Hsu Shih-chang, civilian President of the Beiyang Government, unilaterally resign their presidencies in favour of Li. Sun attached several conditions to this proposal, none of which were palatable to the Chihli clique and the effort was abandoned. In retaliation, Tsao took steps to recognise southern warlord Chen Jiongming as the legitimate governor of Kwangtung, thereby causing him to defect from the KMT and drive Sun from the province and into hiding. In 1923, Tsao bought the presidency of Beiyang despite some opposition and the power of the Chihli clique seemed absolute until they were betrayed: Feng Yu-hsiang seized the capital and imprisoned Tsao, attacking the Chihli forces and driving them from the north and into the central plains.

The Fengtian Clique – 1924 to 1928

After seizing control of the capital, Feng Yu-hsiang formed a new nationalist government sympathetic to the KMT but not a part of it: he called it the Kuominchun (KMC) or ‘Nationalist Army’. Feng’s troops were nowhere near as strong as ChangTso-lin’s men and their alliance was shaky: they agreed to the installation of Tuan Chi-jui as President, given the Anhwei clique’s near extinction. Thereafter negotiations with the KMT slowly broke down as Tuan and Chang had nothing in common ideologically with Sun Yat-sen, who died of cancer in 1925. Shortly afterwards, Kuo Song-ling defected from the Fengtian forces and joined the KMC, forcing a retaliation against Feng’s forces under the leadership of Wu Peifu. The KMC was driven into the northwest but Chang was forced to recall his forces to face the onslaught of the Northern Expedition under Chiang Kai-shek and the KMT. A protracted battle for control of the capital ensued until Chang finally resigned the Presidency in 1928: he was assassinated by a Japanese bomb while fleeing to Manchuria. His son, Chang Hsueh-liang, formally acknowledged the new government of the Northern Revolutionary Army under Chiang Kai-shek on the 31^st of December.

Anhwei Clique

Tuan Ch’i-jui

Chihli Clique

Feng Kuo-chang

Ts’ao K’un

Wu Peifu

Feng Yu-hsiang (KMC)

Fengtian Clique

Chang Tso-lin

Chang Hsueh-liang

Kuo Song-ling (KMC)

*****

A Prime  Example of the Warlord Breed: Chang Tsung-chang

 

A subordinate of Chang Tso-lin’s Fengtian clique and a fearsome military organiser, Chang was instrumental in toppling Shanghai for his master’s benefit. Unlike many other warlords he was less self-indulgent than his superiors, largely foregoing the peacock uniforms and masses of medals; instead, he concentrated on the amassing of power for its own end. The son of a witch and an itinerant trumpet player, at his height, he was referred to as the “Warlord of the Three Don’t Knows” – he said he didn’t know how many concubines he had; how much money he had, or how many troops he commanded. He was called the “Dog–Meat General” due to his fondness for a Manchurian form of gambling called Pai Gow, or ‘eating dog meat’. He was said to command a huge harem of women – Chinese, Western, White Russian, whatever – whom he referred to only by numbers - as he found it too hard to recall their names - and to each of whom he gave a washbowl and a washcloth, printed with the flag of their home country. He was fond of decorating telegraph poles with ‘cut melons’ (that is, the heads of his enemies) and he never travelled anywhere without his own heavily lacquered and decorated coffin. He was notable among the warlords as the first to recruit women into his army as nurses and significantly boosted morale and the effectiveness of his troops by doing so. In 1925 he entered Shanghai with his troops, forced its capitulation in the name of Chang Tso-lin and held it in his master’s name until 1928, when Chiang Kai-shek won it back through the efforts of his Northern Expedition. Instrumental to Chang Tsung-chang’s power was his use of armoured trains which he manned with the help of White Russian refugees fresh from defending the tracks of the Trans-Siberian Railway. For his efforts on his warlord master’s behalf he was named the administrator of Shantung under the Fengtian clique. He was captured by KMT forces but allowed to leave the country in 1932; unfortunately, he was assassinated by the son of one of his rivals before he could escape.

*****

The Southern Alliance

 

Sun Yat-sen had been distracted by the political skulduggery of Yuan Shi-kai and some had felt that he was losing his mind; however, he rallied and brought his administrative powers to bear in his native Canton. Despite some complications he drafted a provisional constitution and rallied a Military Government. He contacted the Russian Communists for advice in structuring his armies and they sent him an advisor in the form of Michael Borodin. With the establishment of the Whampoa Academy, the newly-formed Kuomintang had a ready source for its military commanders: within months, leaders were being drilled for the great Northern Expedition.

Formation – 1917 to 1922

In September of 1917, Sun Yat-sen was named generalissimo of the military government in Kwangtung in order to protect the provisional republican constitution. Many southern warlords joined the alliance, mainly in order to legitimise the criminal kingdoms they had already established in the region: they declared war on the Beiyang powers in charge of Peking in order to attract international attention but failed to attract much notice. In the following year, the other warlords forced Sun from his position and made him accept a position as part of a governing committee; he went into self-imposed exile thereafter due to malicious interference by the committee members. Loyalist party members worked to oust the remaining members of the committee in his absence and paved the way for Sun’s return and the establishment of the Chinese Nationalist Party or Kuomintang (KMT). In 1921, Sun was elected extraordinary president despite the protests of Chun Jiongming and T’ang Shao-i who both claimed the vote was unconstitutional. Tang absented himself while Chun began to plot with the northern Chili clique to overthrow the KMT in return for the governorship of Kwangtung in 1922.

Reorganisation – 1923 to 1925

Chen Jiongming was ousted by loyalists in 1923 and Sun was returned to power. He reorganised the KMT by allying with the Russian Communists creating the First United Front. The remainder of the representatives of the southern military government defected to the northern alliance under Tsao’s puppet government in Peking. With the assistance of the Russian, Michael Borodin, the Whampoa Military Academy was created to end reliance on opportunistic warlords by creating a military elite for the proposed one-party state. With the fall of the Chili clique, Sun travelled to Peking to initiate talks with the Kuominchung (KMC) and the Anhwei and Fengtian cliques. His death from cancer (poison?) ended these negotiations and a power struggle within the KMT ensued: Tang Jiyao stepped forward claiming to be Sun’s chosen successor but he was swiftly ousted.

Invasion – 1926 to 1928

Communist and Left Wing elements in the KMT attempted to kidnap Chiang Kai-shek aboard the warship Chongshan in Canton harbour; Green Gang elements and Chiang loyalists thwarted this plan causing a sharp break between the Left and Right factions of the KMT. Chiang emerged from the fracas as leader of the National Revolutionary Army (NRA) and proceeded to mount the Northern Expedition against the Beiyang factions. NRA forces easily overcame the central plains and eastern defenders under Wu Peifu and Sun Chuanfang, thereafter allying themselves with the KMC and the Shansi warlord, Yen Hsi-shan, to oust the Fengtian clique. Chiang established his base in Nanking but still needed to gain Peking in order to obtain international recognition. In 1927 a purge of the Communist elements of the KMT (the April 12 Incident) caused the Chinese Civil War. With the death of Chang Tso-lin, Yen Hsi-shan occupied Peking for the KMT and forced the capitulation of Chang Hsueh-liang.

Kuomintang (KMT)

Sun Yat-sen

Chiang Kai-shek

Kwangtung Warlord Faction

Chen Jiongming

Shansi Clique

Yen Hsi-shan

Yunnan Clique

Tang Jiyao