China and the allies, vol. 1 (of 2)

Capture by the Tibetan Authorities;
Imprisonment, Torture, and
Ultimate Release.

With a Map and 250 Illustrations. Popular
Edition, in one Volume. Price 7s. 6d. net.

With 38 Illustrations from Drawings by the
Author, and a Portrait, demy 8vo, 18s.

“IN THE FORBIDDEN LAND,” “ALONE WITH THE
HAIRY AINU,” “COREA, THE LAND OF
THE MORNING CALM,” ETC.

The Boxers or Volunteer United Fists—Their origin—The Big Sword Society—Unlawful societies—The Jesuits and secret societies—A crusade against “foreign devils”—Evil influence of Buddhist priests—Their enmity towards strangers—Premature outbreak—Grasping dealings of Europeans—Extent of the Boxer movement.

I do not know who invented the name “Boxers” as a translation of the words Ih-hwo-Ch’uan, by which the anti-foreign societies in China call themselves, but whoever did so was wrong.

To make matters clear, the Chinese characters Ih-hwo-Ch’uan, which, translated literally, mean Volunteer United Fists, are here reproduced. The word “fists” is not [Pg 2]used in the sense of “boxing,” but is merely symbolic of “being strongly clenched together.” In fact, in the rhymes which these revolutionaries chant while assembled, or when attacking the enemy, they allude to their organisation as the Ih-hwo-t’wan instead of Ch’uan, thus altering the meaning into “Volunteer United Trained Bands.” As everybody knows, in China the dialects are numerous, and in the Pekin dialect the word is pronounced Ih-ho-tun, although naturally the characters in writing are the same.

This was undoubtedly the old name secretly used in former times by the so-called “Boxers,” and would identify them with the secret society suppressed at the beginning of the century, in 1809.

The organisation went in those days by the name of Ih-Hwa-Hwei (Volunteer Harmony Society), a now obsolete meaning, but still recognised by the Chinese in that combination of characters, whereas the usual meaning of the particular character “Hwa” in other combinations is “justice” or “righteousness.” The Empress-Dowager, in one of her messages approving of the so-called Boxers, gave severe instructions never to mention the word (Hwa), = Harmony, in the presence of strangers, so the character 和 was changed to that of 合 (Hwo), which means United, and which her Majesty fully approved. The character Hwei was dropped altogether, [Pg 3]being forbidden by law, as it applied only to secret and unlawful societies. It was replaced by the two alternative characters given above, viz., Ih-hwo-chuan and Ih-hwo-t’uan.

As early as 1747, during the reign of the Emperor Kien-lung, we find that the Jesuits were expelled owing to the workings and machinations of this secret society, and in the following reign of Kia-King, as I have already mentioned, it became absolutely necessary to suppress it.

The Society has since at different times given trouble, its attacks being principally directed on missionaries and converts, but not until the year 1900 did the movement, under the protection of the Throne, assume such gigantic proportions that all the great nations of the world together found at first some difficulty in coping with it. Contrary to what people in Europe and America have been led to believe, this movement was no local rising against missionaries, but was a well-planned crusade against all “foreign devils.” It spread more or less all over the Chinese Empire, and was backed to its utmost limit by the greatest and most powerful organisation in China, the Buddhist monks, the Lamas. With civilisation slowly finding its way to the remotest corners of the Heavenly Empire, and with the prospect before them of losing in the near future that power of oppression which the ignorance of superstitious masses had hitherto rendered possible, these monks now attempted a desperate and final stand against all that threatened their livelihood. The combination was greatly strengthened by princes of the Imperial blood throwing in their lot with this crusade against foreigners and foreign civilisation, and formally proclaiming their leadership, as well as by all corrupt societies in China joining in to [Pg 4]support the movement. The suppressed Ih-hwa-Hwei had developed secretly into the Big Sword Society (Ta-tao-Hwo), and at its head stood an old Buddhist monk. Its associates were referred to by the better Chinese of the Reform party as Chu-fe, or rebels.

With Pao-ting-fu as a starting-point for the parent outbreak, and upon the murder of Messrs. Norman and Robinson, S.P.G., things were precipitated beyond the control of those at the head of the movement. Matters unexpectedly came to a crisis.

According to instructions received in different localities, the outbreak was not to take place till the Ninth Moon (about October). Tientsin and Taku would be frozen shortly after that time, so that, had events occurred as they had been planned, it would have been impossible for the Allied forces to capture the Taku forts and relieve Tientsin and Pekin till the spring or summer of 1901, if even then. It was fortunate for Europeans that the alarm was sounded before the Chinese were ready in all parts of the Empire, or we might have fared worse than we did in the present instance. Indeed, with Pekin as a centre for the crusade, the Buddhist monks had been promulgating their diabolical propaganda far and wide in every direction all over the Empire. It has only now been ascertained that for over two years they had been particularly active. The outcome of their efforts showed itself plainly in places far apart, such as the Shansi province and Canton city, the Shantung province, Chefoo, Newchuang. Placards were posted at Nanking and all over Sze-chuan, while at Yunan-fu things were made unpleasant for the French residents. There were serious riots at Woo-chow, and from Swatow the [Pg 5]existence of a mysterious society was reported which had suddenly sprung up, and was religious and political in its aims. Its particular objects were the promotion of Buddhism and the subversion of Roman Catholicism.

It may be explained that the Roman Catholics were singled out, not on account of any partiality for other forms of Christianity, but because they managed to make themselves very unpopular; the reason will be understood later.

This new secret society, said to number 70,000 adherents, with thousands joining it daily, was no doubt a branch of the Ih-hwo-Ch’uan of the north. Incidentally it is well to mention that in Canton alone, during the two months preceding the outbreak of hostilities, over 2000 executions took place of Chinese belonging to the Reform party, or who had pro-foreign tendencies. Hardly any member of the [Pg 6]bonâ-fide Reform party is a Buddhist. They are mostly Confucianists, whereas the so-called Boxers are nearly all Buddhists.

Knowing what I do know of Buddhist monks and their exclusiveness, their violent hatred for all and everything foreign—of which we have an instance in the Tibetan Lamas in their purely Buddhist country, the only land that has succeeded to this day in remaining forbidden to all strangers—I maintain that, no matter what other theories are brought forward regarding the present trouble in China, it cannot be better defined than as a fanatical Buddhist movement, mixed to a certain extent with Shamonism.

The grasping dealings of European nations have also, no doubt, contributed indirectly to bring on a crisis which might otherwise have been delayed indefinitely. The original cause, however, is that given above. The fire, half smothered, was there all the time, and, had it not flared up at the instigation of foreign influence, it would at some later day have flared up of its own accord, and very likely with consequences more terrible to Europeans.

According to the natives, the movement in the north of China alone extended 330 miles on either side of Pekin.

The Russians had considerable trouble in putting down riots in Manchuria, where hordes of Buddhist fanatics caused much uneasiness and some fighting even in Moukden, the capital.

In the hermit kingdom of Corea, too, the movement spread, but only in the suburbs of towns, for the King, well knowing what mischief-brewers Buddhist priests are, has for many years past forbidden them to enter within the city wall of the capital and principal cities.

Kwang-Hsu’s reform edicts—A Boxer proclamation—The Loo or Assembly halls—Boxers’ distinguishing colours—How the Boxers were armed—Invulnerability—Occult powers—Boxer war song and initiation.

Two years ago the Emperor Kwang-Hsu’s reform edicts alarmed corrupt officials, whose rights of extortion over the superstitious and ignorant classes they to a certain extent limited. These edicts were probably the principal cause that gave a sudden impetus to the present movement. The monks, who in former times had all over China brought about the assassination of hundreds of Catholic converts, were now taking advantage of the opportunity and attempting a similar game on a more gigantic scale.

Here is a Boxer Proclamation, a translation of which appeared in the Japan Mail:—

“The Chinese Empire has been celebrated for its sacred teaching. It explained heavenly truth and taught human [Pg 8]duties, and its civilising influence spread as an ornament over river and hill.

“But all this has been changed in an unaccountable manner. For the past five or six generations bad officials have been in trust, bureaus have been opened for the sale of offices, and only those who had money to pay for it have been allowed to hold positions in the Government. The graduation of scholars has become useless, and members of the College of Literature and scholars of the Third Degree are in obscurity at home. An official position can only be obtained as the price of silver. The Emperor covets the riches of his ministers, these again extort from the lower ranks of the mandarinate, and the lower mandarins in turn (by the necessity of their position) must extort from the people. The whole populace is sunk in wretchedness, and all the officials are spoilers of their food. The condition of the Yamêns is unspeakable. In every market and in every guild nothing can be done unless money be spent. The officials must be bribed. All sorts of exactions are made. These officials are full of schemes, none of which are in accordance with the three principles. Having forfeited their heaven-derived disposition, they are unreasonable and unregulated. They are all alike; ill-gotten wealth is their one object. Right has disappeared from the world. There is nothing but squabbling and extortion on all hands, and lawsuits are unnumbered. In the Yamêns it is of no avail to have a clear case; unless you bribe you will lose the day. There is no one to whom the aggrieved may appeal; the simple multitudes are killed with oppression, and their cry goes up to heaven itself and is heard of God. Though spiritual beings and sages were sent down to teach right principles, to issue good books, and to instruct the multitude, [Pg 9]few, alas! heeded. Who is there that understands? The evil go on their course rejoicing, while the spiritual powers are conscious that their teaching has been vain.

“Now in anger the heavenly powers are sending down multitudes of spirits to earth to make inquiry of all, both high and low. The Emperor himself, the chief offender, has had his succession cut off and is childless. The whole court, both civil and military, is in an unspeakable condition. They indulge blindly in mere amusement and disregard the widow’s cry, repenting of nothing and learning nothing good.

“Greater calamities still have overtaken the nation. Foreign devils come with their teaching, and converts to Christianity, Roman Catholic and Protestant, have become numerous. These (Churches) are without human relations, but, being most cunning, they have attracted all the greedy and covetous as converts, and to an unlimited degree they have practised oppression until every good official has been corrupted, and, covetous of foreign wealth, has become their servant. So telegraphs and railways have been established, foreign rifles and guns have been manufactured, and machine-shops have been a delight to their evil nature. Locomotives, balloons, electric lamps, the foreign devils think excellent. Though these foreigners ride in sedans unbefitting their rank, China yet regards them as barbarians of whom God disapproves, and is sending down spirits and genii for their destruction. The first of these powers which has already descended is the Light of the Red Lamp, and the Volunteer Associated Fists, who will have a row with the devils. They will burn down the foreign buildings and restore the temples. Foreign goods of every kind they will destroy. They will extirpate the evil demons and establish [Pg 10]right teaching—the honour of the spirits and the sages; they will cause to flourish their sacred teaching. The purpose of Heaven is fixed, a clean sweep is to be made. Within three years all will be accomplished. The bad will not escape the net, and the goodness of God will be seen. The secrets of Heaven are not to be lightly disclosed, but the days of peace to come are not unknown. At least the Yiu Mao years (1902–1903). The song of the little ones ends here in a promise of happiness to men, the joy of escape from rapine. This last word is the summary of all.

“Scholars and gentlemen must by no means esteem this a light and idle curse, and so disregard its warning.”

The proclamations of the secret societies were couched in very plausible terms, and it is interesting to note how cunningly, while rousing the passion of the populace against all reforms, and while urging that foreigners should be driven out of the country, the leaders themselves remained well under cover in their usual underhand way of procedure. “Restore the temples,” they suggest, “... and establish right teaching.”

At the beginning of the outbreak in the north there [Pg 11]suddenly appeared swarms of these priests sneaking about in all foreign settlements, instigating servants to crime, and preaching the extermination of foreigners. In more peaceable times these ruffians were seldom to be seen in any foreign concession, for in any part of China these monks are allowed to demand three days’ free board and lodging in any monastery, and they manage to obtain a similar privilege in almost every native household, so they must have had some special reason for coming in such numbers into foreign settlements, where they got nothing without paying for it.

In their Loo, or assembly-halls where their meetings were held, the favourite hour for the practice of the Ih-hwo-Ch’uan exercises was in the Tiger Watch (the third watch). These Loo were hearths or camps where the so-called Boxers assembled. The Empress-Dowager bestowed on these meeting-places the name of assembly-halls—a similar character in Chinese writing to the one applied to the meeting-places of Buddhist Lamas of Tibet and Mongolia.

In small cities and villages these meetings were carried on in the open air, and thousands of fanatics attended them. The Ih-hwo-Ch’uans’ distinguishing colours were red and yellow, the two Buddhist colours. While fighting the members wore, according to rank, yellow or red girdles, garters, and turbans or caps. Some also wore a kind of insignia—a small apron, bright red in colour, and dipped in the blood of the man who owned it. On their great red banners—one of which I was lucky enough to secure—they had various inscriptions in black. One of their favourite mottoes was: “Assist China to exterminate foreigners.” Another, “Reverently, sincerely and heartily.”

In battle a number of the Boxers were armed with [Pg 12]Mannlicher and Mauser rifles provided them by the Government, but most of them used old-fashioned flintlocks, muzzle-loaders, spears, tridents, and single and two-handed swords with hilts bound in red cloth.

They rushed wildly into the field, imbued with the idea, suggested to them by the monks, that he who fought for the Ih-hwo-Ch’uan was invulnerable. “Rifle or cannon bullets or pieces of shell,” preached the monks, “may strike a Boxer in any part of his anatomy, but cannot penetrate the body of a sacred member of the Ih-hwo-Ch’uan. When hit, the bullet will bounce back without injuring him in the slightest degree.” Nevertheless, while urging their satellites to go on bravely to the front under repeated assurances of being absolutely bullet-proof, the monks themselves took good care to keep well in the rear or under cover. In fact, in most cases they cleared well out of bullet reach until the fight was over. This, they explained, was done, not from cowardice, but in order to pray for those who fought for their cause.

At the attack on Tientsin city, after various incantations and sundry displays of occult powers, impressive to the minds of the ignorant and superstitious, these hordes of fanatics were let go against the foreign troops. They came running on like madmen, brandishing their swords, some with wild yells, others chanting the Ih-hwo-Ch’uan war song, the translation of which is as follows:—

(and here they raised the right arm and made pretence to strike the sky with their swords.)

They rushed wildly forward, but, incantations or no incantations, the bullets of the Allies went through them all the same. The fact must have caused them some surprise. The machine guns did terrific execution, and the Japanese cavalry, dashing to and fro, left the field covered with dead and wounded.

It is said that the survivors called the monks to account for the heavy losses, but the priests had a ready answer.

“It is not our fault,” said they. “Those men died because they were not sufficiently initiated or because they [Pg 14]did not have enough faith in our cause. Those that gave up all for the Ih-hwo-Ch’uan came out of the battle without a scratch.” Here they pointed at the few—mighty few—that had come off the field, scared out of their wits, but still alive.

A Boxer rhyme—A bit of prose—Roman Catholics and the Boxers—Mistaken beliefs of the Boxers and their origin—Malicious placards—Buddhist priests and hypnotism—Massacred Europeans—The magic mirror.

An interesting rhyme was circulated among the members of the Ih-hwo-Ch’uan, and I give here an almost literal version in English:

This curious rhyme, in which the Chinese seemed confident of making short work of all the foreign devils, not only in China, but all over the world, is followed by a bit of prose quite as extraordinary to European minds, but absolutely in keeping with the ideas and beliefs of the majority of uneducated Chinamen.

“The relations and friends of all around notice recently that members of the Protestant and Roman Catholic religions poison the wells with poisonous powder, and that all who drink the water leave their lungs and intestines rotten within eighteen days. Two men have been arrested by us at Lin-li-Chuang, and we find they have down (hair) all over their bodies. They are silent when questioned and bold when tortured. Those who smell the poison will [Pg 17]die immediately. You must be very cautious in drinking the water.

“Those who see this notice must make it known. It will avert calamity befalling the people. It must by all means be done.”

The causes of these beliefs among the Chinese are rather amusing to analyse. Any resident in China will tell you that these are merely a few of the more common opinions. The idea of the poison that kills when you smell it originated from the presence of Chinamen in a mission hospital when chloroform was administered to a patient before an operation.

Roman Catholics have probably, though unconsciously, done more towards producing ill-feeling than any other missionaries in China, though it must be said for them, on the other hand, that they have also accomplished ten times more good than all the others taken together. Roman Catholic missionaries occupy an official position in the [Pg 18]Heavenly Empire, and they often exert their rights by unduly protecting their converts (not the best class of Chinese by far) to an extent that is somewhat vexatious to the non-Christian population. In Roman Catholic villages, for instance, all persons of other creeds are excluded, and the missionaries have not only the spiritual guidance of the community, but become absolute rulers. The converts cherish the belief that to pay the taxes to the nearest mandarin is about all that is required to make them good citizens, the priests taking care to protect them in case of any offence against the law of the country other than non-payment of taxes.

Again, the Catholic priests, with their fatherly love for their converts, constantly interfere in rows between their folks and neighbouring villages, or between their people and officials. This is a constant cause of friction.

It is believed by the ignorant Chinese that the consecrated wafer given by Roman Catholic priests in communicating converts has the magic power of taking away will from the person unwise enough to swallow it, and that by this means the priests get natives absolutely at their mercy. The holy water, too, the Chinese contend, is simply a magic medium by which those who dip their fingers into it, and who are not Christians, become possessed by demons.

Moreover, the usual malicious stories were circulated in Boxers’ placards of foreigners kidnapping children to turn them into soup or pound them into jelly, which, as a medicine, became endowed, after it had undergone the further process of drying in the sun, with marvellous strengthening qualities. Foreign doctors were also accused of plucking out the eyes of people unawares. Foreign devils, it was declared, then ground these eyes into dust [Pg 19]and used them in their occult arts. Most of these absurd rumours were probably originated by natives who had seen surgical operations performed in mission hospitals. The kidnapping of children was invariably the first accusation brought against foreigners, and whenever riots occurred against “white devils,” the instigators maliciously did away with a number of little unfortunates, and then held foreigners responsible for their disappearance. The Buddhist monks, however, in the Boxer movement, had devised a slight variation in this detail. They were very adept at hypnotism, and availed themselves of this power to impress the masses. They hypnotised young boys, and then at night left them in a state of catalepsy in some thoroughfare. When a sufficient crowd had collected around these insensible creatures, the monks duly appeared and pointed out “the actual proof of the evil doings of foreigners.” The crowd having been worked into a state of frenzy, the boy, apparently dead, would be restored to life by the monks (they said “resuscitated”), and the bystanders would be thus further convinced that, whatever devilry foreigners might perpetrate, Buddhist monks had always the power to make things good.

It was this simple hypnotic expedient, carried on on a large scale, that induced Boxers to fling themselves in the field against modern rifles, under the belief that the Buddhist monks had made them bullet-proof.

Naturally, those that have suffered most in the Boxer movement have been the native converts. Hundreds have been terribly tortured, burnt alive, massacred. Many Europeans, too, in the interior, have suffered atrocious tortures, such as the “death by the thousand cuts,” and “the slow death.” European women have suffered shame, and have eventually been impaled or beheaded. Their heads have been swung in cages, to serve as an example to others.

In their hunt for native Christians, the Boxers adopted a singular mode of identifying them. Over the head of the unfortunate captive a magic mirror was held in which a cross (said the Boxers) was to be plainly reflected were the prisoner a Christian. As the magic mirror was made of silvered metal slightly convex, a luminous cross was invariably visible in a powerful light, so that the poor devils arrested on suspicion were always mercilessly put to death.

Boxer wedding—Special god of the Boxers—Boxer altars—Incriminating documents in the Viceroy’s yamên—Sacred edict issued by the Lord of Wealth and Happiness—A divine prescription—The real leader of the Boxers—His descent—The active leader of the Boxers and his influence over the fanatics—Political and religious movement.

Following the Buddhist fashion, Boxers became married to their religion; in fact a Boxer, once initiated, occupied much the same position as a novice in a Buddhist monastery.

The special god of the Ih-hwo-Ch’uan society was the Buddhist god of war, the red-faced guardian of the west, Kwai-fu-tze or Kwan-ti, to be carefully distinguished from the second god of war, with a black countenance. The image of Kwai-fu-tze could be seen in all its glory on all the Boxer altars, in their assembly-halls (Loo), in the residences of the principal leaders, and in Boxer camps. In Pekin the Manchus had erected Boxer altars in various places, and the Empress herself, when the Boxer movement was authorised and approved by her, ordered Boxer altars (which were nothing else but Buddhist) to be erected in her private apartment, as well as in other parts of the Imperial Palace.

A curious thing in the Boxer movement was that, although inflammatory placards and bills had been posted in Manchuria and Southern and Western China, comparatively few of these placards appeared in Tientsin city itself. Perhaps they were not needed, the majority of the population having joined the movement.

Documents, as we shall see, were found in the Viceroy’s Yamên, and showed too well how the Government provided these hordes with arms, ammunition, food, generous pensions to the wounded in battle, and ample rewards to the families of those that died in the field or in defending the city.

Here is, nevertheless, the translation of a placard, 200,000 copies of which are said to have been distributed in Tientsin native city on June 4.

Everybody knows that the real leader of the Boxers was Prince Tuan, the Heir-Apparent’s father, Minister and General in Command of the Pekin Field Force. According to some accounts, he actually sat for some time on the Imperial throne. The Chinese assert that he is not a member of the Imperial family at all. He is said to be the son of Prince Tun, the fifth son of the Emperor Tao-Kuang and uncle of the Emperor Kwang Hsu, but it is well known in Pekin that he is a mere morganatic son, his mother being a nurse in the Tun’s family, and not of Imperial blood. It was nevertheless agreed with Prince Tun’s wife that the baby (now Prince Tuan) should be adopted as her son, and he thus became a member of the Imperial family. He is a Manchu, and an unscrupulous intriguer of the very first order.

The most active leader, after Prince Tuan, was a man of great influence, energy, and ability, a native Buddhist of Shensi, by name Li-Lai-Chung. His lieutenants and agents were the Buddhist monks, the Lamas, a lazy class of parasites, criminals who, by hiding under the cloak of [Pg 25]religion, escaped from the claws of justice, and who were the riff-raff of the country.

The principal agitators undoubtedly came from the north, but all alike met with protection and support, financial and otherwise, from the corrupt class of officials all over the Empire.

It was thus that this religious and political movement for the extermination of foreigners and their influence assumed such alarming proportions. No doubt when that nest of immorality and disgraceful corruption, the Buddhist monks, have been wiped out, not only in China, but in all Asia, Western civilisation will have no difficulty in penetrating to the remotest nooks of that immense continent, and peace will be for ever assured.

The official correspondence of Sir Claude MacDonald with Lord Salisbury⁠[1]⁠—The murder of Mr. Brooks—Useless representations to the Tsung-li-Yamên—Misrepresentations of the Chinese ambassador in London—The disturbed Shantung province—Danger of missionaries—Details of Brooks’ murder—The British Minister’s apologies for Chinese murderers—The natural result of travelling in a wheelbarrow—Yu-H’sien, Governor of Shantung—The Boxer movement spreading—Serious trouble expected—A naval demonstration in North Chinese waters deemed advisable—The French Minister the only one well informed.

It was probably with the murder of Mr. Brooks near the town of Fei-ch’eng, in Shantung province, where he was travelling, that the work of the anti-foreign movement in China came for the first time under the notice of the British Minister in Pekin. In a telegraphic despatch to the Marquis of Salisbury, dated January 4, 1900, he reported the murder as having been perpetrated by a band of anti-foreign rebels, and added that “the part of China where the murder took place is very disturbed, and I and my French, American, and German colleagues have been making strong representations” (to the Tsung-li-Yamên).

These “strong representations,” however, were treated in [Pg 27]the usual Chinese fashion. A message of regret from the Empress-Dowager and Emperor, and a cleverly-worded letter from Sir Chichen Lofengluh (Chinese Ambassador in London), in which he misrepresented the assassins of the English missionary as “brigands,” whereas they were members of the Ih-hwo-Ch’uan, or Boxer society for the extirpation of foreigners in China. As usual, the empty words “No efforts will be spared to bring the parties concerned in the murder to condign punishment” closed the letter of the Chinese Ambassador.

Sir Claude MacDonald, writing from Pekin on January 5, informed the Government for the first time that the northern part of Shantung had for several months been disturbed by bands of rebels connected with various secret societies, which had been defying the authorities and pillaging the people. “An organisation known as the Boxers,” he wrote to Lord Salisbury, “has attained special notoriety, and their ravages recently spread over a large portion of Southern Chili, where the native Christians appear to have suffered, even more than the rest of the inhabitants, from the lawlessness of these marauders. The danger to which, in both provinces, foreign missionary establishments have thus been exposed has been the subject of repeated representations to the Chinese Government by other foreign Representatives, [Pg 28]especially by the German and United States Ministers and myself.”

He reports, by the way as it were, full particulars of Mr. Brooks’s murder on December 31, the day after his capture, by thirty Boxers, and how the unfortunate man, having been tied and wounded, had subsequently been beheaded and his body flung into a ditch. He goes on to say that he has “taken occasion to remind the Yamên Ministers that there were other British missionaries in the district where Mr. Brooks was killed, and to impress upon their Excellencies the necessity of securing sufficient protection to these. I do not, however, entertain serious apprehensions as to their safety, because guards of soldiers have been for some time past stationed to protect the various missionary residences.”

Eventually Sir Claude ends his letter, in a kind of apologetic way for the Chinese murderers, by saying that the “unfortunate man [Mr. Brooks] who was murdered was seized when he was travelling by wheelbarrow, without escort, through the country infested by rebels.”

Why did Sir Claude omit to mention that such means of travel are those of all people of moderate wealth in that country, and possibly in some parts the only way by which one can travel at all? In fact, if Mr. Brooks travelled in a wheelbarrow it was, in all probability, chiefly in order to attract less notice and give no offence to the natives. Sir Claude, however, seemed so much flattered at having received a visit from the Ministers of the Tsung-li-Yamên and other high officials that he accepted wholesale the fine promises and assurances of the Chinese.

Early in December 1899 Yu-H’sien, Governor of Shantung, was ordered to vacate his post, and General Yuan-Shih-K’ai [Pg 29]was appointed in his place. The General was said to have pro-foreign tendencies, and was at the head of the foreign-drilled troops, of which he had some eight thousand men.

He naturally arrived too late to save Mr. Brooks, whom he regretted to report murdered by red-turbaned Boxers at Mao-chia-pu, to which place they had led him. He also reported that rebels had collected and made disturbances in the two districts of P’ing Yin and Fei-Ch’eng, in Shantung.

Telegraphing to Lord Salisbury on March 10, Sir Claude MacDonald laid great stress on the spreading of the Boxer disturbances and on the enlisting of recruits, whose drilling was proceeding in the environs of Pekin and Tientsin, notwithstanding the fact that he (Sir Claude) and his American, French, German and Italian colleagues had, on January 27 and February 27, addressed a report to the Tsung-li-Yamên, and had urged that an Imperial decree should be published declaring the suppression of the two anti-foreign secret societies that were causing disturbances in Shantung and Chili. On March 2 the five Representatives paid a personal visit to the Yamên, but the Ministers declined to publish the decree.

What more proof could have been given that the Government was, even at that time, protecting and encouraging the Boxer movement? for, if not, what plausible reason could there be for not suppressing a rebellious agitation which, besides pillaging and destroying the property of Christians and non-Christians alike, would in all probability soon lead the Chinese Emperor into war with all European nations?

Sir Claude, apparently concerned at the serious turn affairs [Pg 30]were taking, recommended that, in case the Chinese Government still refused to publish the decree asked for, and in case the state of affairs did not materially improve, a few ships of war of each nationality should make a naval demonstration in North Chinese waters. Identical recommendations, he telegraphed, were cabled home by his four colleagues, viz., the American, French, German and Italian Representatives. Naturally enough, Lord Salisbury and the Home Government, who had until that time been led to believe that there was nothing to fear from the Boxers, duly cabled back on March 11: “It will be desirable to resort to naval action only when other means of pressure are exhausted.”

Other nations (America excepted) viewed the situation in a different light. The French Minister of Foreign Affairs, interviewed by Sir E. Monson (British Ambassador in Paris), did not, on opening the despatch, hesitate for a moment to express his opinion that if the Pekin Ministers had all agreed in telegraphing so strongly, the affair must be urgent, and that the French Government could not properly refuse to authorise the naval demonstration in order to protect its own subjects.

This attitude was apparently viewed with jealousy and [Pg 31]concern by the Anglo-Saxon Governments, for repeated representations were made on behalf of the British Government to M. Delcassé, the French Minister of Foreign Affairs, in order to make him clearly understand that neither England nor the United States of America would associate themselves with any such action, and that they would severally protect their respective subjects. In fact, Sir E. Monson went out of his way to show his gladness when he was informed that France would wait for more precise information before acting.

Anti-foreign Yu-H’sien appointed Governor of Shansi—A slap in the face for England and America—An alarming telegram—Imperial decree satisfactory as far as it went, in Sir Claude MacDonald’s opinion—The decree.

Another slap in the face from the Chinese was reported on March 15, when the late Governor of Shantung, Yu-H’sien—who was the main instigator of the outrages in that province, concerning whom the United States Minister had formally demanded that he should never be re-employed, and upon whose punishment for the murder of Mr. Brooks the British Minister had insisted—was with great pomp appointed Governor of Shansi.

If a man of the stamp of Sir Harry Parkes, instead of one of the stamp of Sir Claude MacDonald, had been in Pekin at this juncture, he might have thought that the time had come to set his foot firmly down and seriously to demand what the Chinese Government meant by this open encouragement of the anti-foreign movement. Sir Claude, however, seemed satisfied to let the Chinese temporise, and accepted their usual far-fetched excuses as plausible.

The telegram of the missionaries from P’ing Yin and T’ai An: “Outlook very black, daily marauding; constant danger; edict suppressing (Boxers) published; troops present [Pg 33]but useless; officials’ complete inaction, T’ai An prefect blocks; secret orders from Throne to encourage,” was represented by Sir Claude as exaggerated, notwithstanding that every non-official person in China knew it to be but too correct.

Sir Claude asked the Yamên Ministers to telegraph to the new Governor, Yuan, that he had called at the Yamên that day (January 11) to complain of the conduct of the prefect, T’ai An.

A wonderful feat of strength of character, equalled by the following threat, which Sir Claude MacDonald no doubt believed made the Chinese tremble in their shoes, whereas they, more likely, smiled behind his back.

“I requested,” he writes, “that my words might be carefully recorded for submission to the Throne....” and continues: “Whether these negotiations take a friendly line or the reverse depends entirely on the behaviour of the local authorities, and the manner in which they carry out the commands of the Emperor as expressed in the edict.”

The Imperial decree, so much desired, was at last issued, and was approved by Sir Claude, who reported it to be “satisfactory as far as it went.”

It is sufficient to read the edict itself to be aghast at the attitude of our Representative in Pekin. Never was a more openly revolutionary and inflammatory decree published in more hypocritical words. Sir Claude does not appear to have [Pg 34]seen through the veil. He innocently hints, in a letter to Lord Salisbury, that the decree is regarded in some quarters with misgivings, but he had not thought it expedient as yet to make any remarks on the subject to the Tsung-li-Yamên.

In justice to Sir Claude MacDonald, and to prove my words, it will be well to give the Imperial decree itself, dated January 11, 1900:

It is not difficult, even for one not versed in Chinese affairs, to read plainly between the lines of this hypocritical decree, and to see by many of its allusions that, far from being a decree to spread peace and quiet among the masses, this was an inflammatory placard spread abroad to instigate citizens against foreigners. In fact, it begins by showing the Imperial approval of “the law-abiding people who practise their skill in mechanical arts for their self-preservation,” &c. These people were merely the Boxers, and their mechanical arts the manufacture of spears, swords, and guns. It even goes so far as admonishing them to keep mutual watch and give mutual help.

It is curious that our Minister should approve of such a decree as satisfactory, even “as far as it went.” Indeed, it would seem sufficiently plain that the publication of such a decree could only produce an effect contrary to that of the decree demanded of the Emperor by the foreign Ministers, and by Sir Claude MacDonald in particular. But possibly Sir Claude was a person easily pleased.

The Boxer movement spreads in the Chili province—Ships requested to proceed to Taku—Brooks’s murderers punished and compensation paid—The request to suppress the Boxer and Big Sword societies—The special Imperial audience regarding the succession to the Throne—The young Prince Yu-Chun elected heir—His tutors—Decree by the Emperor’s own pen.

Meanwhile Boxer disturbances spread in the neighbouring province of Chili, and Christian converts were being persecuted by them in such a cruel manner that his Excellency the British Minister paid “a personal visit to the Viceroy at Tientsin,” which visit, in his own estimation and words, he “believed would put a stop to a state of affairs which, if allowed to continue, would lead to the gravest results.”

The same petty excuses, the same promises for future punishment of evil-doers, again satisfied the Minister, who writes (January 19) that “the Viceroy is very earnest in his desire to restore order and punish the evil-doers.”

As regards the spread of the Boxer movement in the Chili province, he seems to discover that “the state of affairs is improving, and the local officials are acting with commendable energy.”

What did other foreign Governments do in the meantime? The German Minister was allowed the use of the [Pg 38]entire squadron at Kiao-Chau, the Italian the disposal of two men-of-war, and the United States one ship to proceed at once to Taku. Sir Claude at this point “respectfully requests that two of her Majesty’s ships be sent to Taku.”

The murderers of Brooks—five of them—were found guilty after a four days’ trial before Consul Campbell and two missionaries.

“One of the convicted,” writes Sir Claude, on March 29, “was shown to have beheaded and killed (sic) the victim, while the other four were accessories.” Two of the prisoners were sentenced to death, the third to imprisonment for life, another to imprisonment for ten years, and the fifth to banishment.

A sum of 7500 taels was paid for the cost of building a memorial chapel, 1500 taels for a memorial at the college of Canterbury, to which Brooks belonged, and 500 taels for the erection of a tablet on the scene of the murder.

Fei Ch’eng, the magistrate in whose district the murder was committed, was dismissed and denounced to the Throne, but the Yamên refused to punish the two neighbouring magistrates, who were equally culpable. Sir Claude, very wisely this time, recommended that Yu H’sien, the late Governor of the province (newly appointed Governor of Shansi)—the principal culprit—should be the first to be punished, before minor officials. He therefore declared the trial unsatisfactory.

As was to be expected, the Imperial decree of July 11 soon bore fruit. The Tsung-li-Yamên was asked to issue another decree suppressing the offending societies by name, viz., “The Fist of Righteous Harmony” and the “Big Sword Society.”

Hereunder is the note addressed by the American, British, French, German, and Italian Ministers to the Tsung-li-Yamên.

A special audience of all high metropolitan officials was summoned in the Palace on January 24, to consider the succession to the Throne. The Empress-Dowager, at the request of the Emperor, who, owing to ill-health, could have no children of his own, had appointed young Prince Pu-Chun, a grandson of Prince Tun, the fifth son of the Emperor whose reign was styled Tao-Kuang (1821–51) (son of Tsai Yi, Prince Tuan, the present leader of the Boxers). He is first cousin once removed of the present Emperor, and is fourteen years old. An Imperial decree in the Pekin Gazette directed that he should represent the Emperor at the ceremonies of the New Year (January 31) in the three Palace halls. And two further decrees appointed Ch’ung-Yi (a Manchu) and Hsu Tung (a Chinese banner-man) as tutors to superintend his education.

Both these tutors are well known for their hatred of foreigners and foreign customs. Prince Ch’ung (President of the Tsung-li-Yamên) together with a Mongol prince called Na, was, on January 27, nominated anta,⁠[3] or supervisor of the prince’s household.

In the Pekin Gazette of January 24, 1900, was published the following Imperial decree from the Emperor’s own pen:

The difficulty in obtaining the publication of an Imperial edict in the Pekin Gazette—Temporising—An important and stormy meeting at the Yamên—Absence of the Russian Minister—Baron von Ketteler’s accusations and merriment of the Yamên Ministers—Excuses—An international naval demonstration deemed necessary—Yu H’sien’s appointment—A flat refusal.

Lord Salisbury, echoing Sir Claude MacDonald’s information, duly informed Sir Chihchen Lofengluh, in answer to a communication from him, that the settlement of the Brooks case could not be considered as wholly satisfactory.

The representations made to the Yamên on January 27 by Sir Claude, as well as by the American, French, German, and Italian Ministers, asking for a decree specifically denouncing the anti-Christian societies in Shantung and Chili, received at first no answer, but upon a further demand on February 21, the Legations concerned received a note from the Yamên stating that a decree had been issued ordering the Governors of the two provinces to put an end to the disturbances.

Sir Claude and the other four Ministers further insisted that the decree must be published in the Pekin Gazette, and that it must not only suppress the Ih-hwo-Ch’uan Society, but also the Big Sword Society, a demand which the Yamên did not seem at all willing to satisfy. They, as usual, temporised, but eventually framed the proclamation of the Governor-General [Pg 45]of Chili, the terms of which strictly prohibited the Boxer movement. It said, among other things: “The converts and the ordinary people are all the subjects of the throne, and are regarded by the Government with impartial benevolence. No distinction is made between them. Should they have lawsuits they must bow to the judgments of the officials. The ordinary people must not give way to rage, and by violent acts create feuds and trouble. The converts, on the other hand, must not stir up strife and oppress the people, or incite the missionaries to screen them and help them to obtain the upper hand.

“Those so-styled professors who practise boxing, and play with clubs, and teach people their arts, those also who learn from these men, and those who march about and parade the villages and marts, flourishing tridents, and playing with sticks, hoodwinking the populace to make a profit for themselves, are strictly forbidden to carry on such practices. Should any disobey, on arrest the principals will receive a [Pg 46]hundred blows with a heavy bamboo and be banished to a distance of a thousand miles. The pupils will receive the same beating and be banished to another province for three years, and on expiration of that period and return to their native place be subjected to strict surveillance.

“Should any inn, temple, or house harbour these people without report to the officials, or should the police and others not search them out and arrest them, the delinquents will be sentenced to eighty blows with the heavy bamboo for improper conduct in the higher degree.”

Sir Claude now very properly pressed to have this decree published in the Pekin Gazette, and eventually a meeting took place on March 2 at the Yamên, where Prince Ch’ang Wang, Wen-Shao, Chao Shu-ch’iao, Hsu-Jung-I, Hsu Ching-ch’eng, Wu T’ing-fen, Knei-Ch’un, and Lien Yuan received Sir Claude MacDonald, accompanied by Mr. Ker and Mr. Fulford, Mr. Conger (United States Minister), with Mr. Cheshire, Baron von Ketteler (German Minister), with Baron von der Goltz; Marquis Salvago (Italian Minister), with Dr. Merklinghaus, Baron d’Anthouard (French chargé d’affaires), with M. Morisse.

Sir Claude recapitulated the circumstances regarding the two secret societies, and the Imperial decree published on January 11, which had spread the impression that the Throne recognised the Ih-hwo-Ch’uan and the Ta Tao Hwo, and stated that the Representatives of the Powers were present further to request the publication of a decree suppressing by name the two societies in the Pekin Gazette. Nothing short of this would satisfy them.

Baron von Ketteler pointed out that in the decree already [Pg 47]communicated to the Representatives, the omission of the Ta Tao Hwo (society) had been made, and that the head of the society was then in Pekin, where he had received a special mark of favour from the Throne, instead of being sent, as he should have been, to the Board of Punishments. This man was the ex-Governor of Shantung, Yu H’sien, whom, with his society, the Baron again denounced.

This statement was received with “undisguised merriment” by the Prince and Ministers, who nevertheless had to admit that Yu H’sien was to blame for not suppressing the disturbances. He was further accused of inspiring the original edict that had caused so much trouble, an idea which the Yamên pronounced entirely erroneous.

Explanations and excuses were attempted by the Yamên in order to evade the publication of the further decree. This was probably to “save their face”—an ever-important question with Celestials.

As a matter of fact, they barefacedly declared that the Yamên’s memorial did mention the Ta Tao Hwo (Big Sword Society), for this had now amalgamated with the Ih-hwo-ch’uan, and therefore was included in the denunciation of the latter society!

Baron d’Anthouard complained that no protection was afforded to missionaries in Chili and Shantung, and said that he now wanted deeds and not mere words to reassure him. The Yamên, as usual, said they would consider the matter and reply. Identical notes were handed in by all the Representatives present.

The Boxers in the meantime were fast and openly recruiting and drilling in both disturbed provinces, and even in the neighbourhood of Tientsin and Pekin. Of this Sir Claude was fully aware, and, alive to the sense of danger, [Pg 48]recommended to his Government an international naval demonstration in the waters of North China. He watched with evident concern the peculiar attitude of the Chinese Government—who seemed to take no notice whatever of the representations and threats made. In fact, a deliberate snub from the Chinese Government had to be supported in the appointment of Yu-H’sien as Governor of Shansi.

“Altogether,” pointed out Sir Claude MacDonald to Lord Salisbury on March 16, “Yu’s appointment to even so important a post cannot fail to be regarded as showing an extraordinary lack of consideration on the part of the Chinese Government for the opinions and representations of foreign Powers.”

The Yamên at this point seem to have taken a more determined course of aggression and bluff towards the foreign Ministers, mixed, of course, with the customary hypocrisy and falsehood. They flatly refused to publish in the Pekin Gazette the Imperial decree, as requested by the foreign Powers. Their plea was that it was a T’ing-chi (message from the Throne), and not a Shang-Yu, or Imperial decree. The rule, they stated, is that a special Imperial message is not delivered to the Grand Secretariat for publication in the Gazette. “This was an established rule of public business in China, which it was impossible to alter.”

A crisis approaching—Destruction of villages and mission-houses by the Boxers—Roman Catholic missionaries killed—A marine guard retained in Tientsin—Troubles in Kung-tsun—A meeting of the foreign Ministers in Pekin—Their disinclination to bring up guards—Rain better than Maxim guns—Sham displays of the Chinese to suppress the insurgents—Baron von Ketteler suspicious of the Chinese Government’s promises—Guards to be sent for to protect the Legations.

Towards the middle of May a crisis was fast approaching. Much disorder prevailed around Pekin and Tientsin. The Boxers destroyed three villages, killing 61 Roman Catholic converts, some 90 miles from Pekin, near Paoting-fu.

This was reported to the Government on May 17 by Sir Claude, who on the same date requested the Admiral to retain the marine guard which was under orders to leave Tientsin.

On May 18 Sir Claude further telegraphed that the Boxers had destroyed the London Mission Chapel at Kung-tsun and killed the Chinese preacher. Kung-tsun is 40 miles south-west of Pekin. On the same day Sir Claude called at the Yamên to complain of the apathy of the Chinese Government. He was curtly informed that the previous day an Imperial decree had been issued whereby specified metropolitan and provincial authorities were directed to suppress the Boxers.

Although the Yamên believed this decree would be sufficient to pacify the crowds, rumours were current that French and British missionaries were in great danger at Yunnan-fu.

The Yamên maliciously went out of their way to lead Sir Claude to believe that the disturbance was mostly caused by the importation of arms by the French Consul.

Matters were coming to such a point that the eleven Representatives of foreign nations held a meeting in Pekin on May 20 at the instance of the French Minister. The doyen was empowered to write a note to the Yamên, in the name of all foreign Representatives, demanding that, as a sequel to the decrees already issued suppressing the Boxer movement, all individuals who should publish or disseminate placards, or should aid or harbour Boxers, should be arrested, while those guilty of arson, murder, or outrages, and their accomplices, should be executed. It was furthermore demanded that a decree to the above effect should be published in Pekin and the north provinces. It was resolved that if the disturbances continued, and if a favourable answer was not received within five days, further measures should be taken.

“The meeting,” telegraphed Sir Claude, “did not decide [Pg 51]what measures should be taken, but the Representatives were generally averse to bringing guards to Pekin, and what found most favour was as follows:

“With the exception of Holland, which has no ships in Chinese waters, it was proposed that all the maritime Powers represented should make a naval demonstration, either at Shan-hai-kwan or at the new port, Ching-wang-tao, while in case of necessity guards were to be held ready on board ship.

“My colleagues will, I think, send these proposals as they stand to their Governments. As the Chinese Government themselves seem to be sufficiently alarmed, I do not think that the above means will be necessary, but should the occasion arise I trust that her Majesty’s Government will see fit to support it.”

This extraordinary advice on the part of the British Minister was telegraphed as late as May 21, and seemed somewhat in contrast to the alarming news which Sir Claude had been previously sending. There was at that date hardly a foreigner in China who was not aware of the terrible storm which was threatening, yet our Minister seemed to think that the Chinese being “sufficiently alarmed” was an ample guarantee for the safety of foreigners and their property!

The Russian Minister appears to have had an interview with Sir Claude, in which he stated that only two countries have very serious interests in China—viz., England and Russia. He admitted that matters were grave, and at once agreed to the joint note of the Powers.

The British Government, on May 22, agreed to support their Minister in case of emergency. It was none too early.

Sham displays were made by the Chinese of sending troops to suppress the Boxers, and the soldiers and officers were captured by the insurgents—probably a prearranged affair. When other parties were sent out with severe instructions, they were in such small numbers as to be easily defeated by the Boxers.

The French Minister, it must be said to his credit, was almost the only one of the foreign Representatives in Pekin who had reliable information and attached the right importance to it, while others discarded and treated with contempt the warnings of men who, though not holding official positions, nevertheless knew China and the Chinese intimately. M. Pichon, in fact, predicted a serious outbreak, which would endanger the lives, not only of missionaries, but of all foreigners, even in Pekin. The Italian Minister, too, who derived his information from similar sound sources, confirmed the French Minister’s prediction.

The French Minister urged, at a meeting of the diplomatic corps, that unless the Chinese took immediate action, guards should be sent for at once, before it became too late. Unnecessary civility and patience were nevertheless shown towards the Celestials, who naturally misconstrued this conduct, which they attributed to weakness, and a further demand was formulated to the Yamên, asking for a precise statement of the measures taken by the Chinese Government to suppress the movement, and again requesting an Imperial edict.

Baron von Ketteler, the German Minister, a man of great force of will, declared that he had no faith whatever either in the promises or in the efficacious protection of the Chinese Government, which was crumbling to pieces. This was on May 27, and Sir Claude on the same day [Pg 53]called at the Yamên, where Prince Ching and the Minister had no difficulty in persuading him that energetic measures were being taken by the Chinese Government to resist the progress of the Boxer movement. The movement, Sir Claude telegraphed, had thoroughly alarmed the Chinese Government.

In fact, incredible as it may seem, it appears that our Representative in Pekin always believed and concurred in the views of the last person who spoke to him, especially when he was being misinformed. Indeed, it is to be doubted whether on that date (May 27) there was any foreigner of any intelligence in China, other than officials, who was not fully aware that the Boxer movement was protected and supported by the Government.

Twenty-four hours more had to elapse before the guards would be sent for. It was thought well to wait for further developments. Sir E. Seymour, the Commander-in-Chief of the China Squadron, seeing the unsettled state of affairs in the north, deemed it advisable to send H.M.S. Orlando and Algerine to Taku, in case guards should be required in Pekin.

Bishop Favier and his knowledge of China—His historical letter—The contrast to our Minister’s information.

The now historical letter of the French Bishop Favier to the Minister of France is sufficient proof that there were foreigners in China—outside of the Legations—who knew the exact gravity of the situation. By way of contrast and comment, part of a letter from Sir Claude MacDonald written two days later is here also appended:

Pekin-Tientsin railway destroyed—Foresight of French and Russian Ministers—Their guards on their way to Pekin—Pekin in extreme danger—Imperial troops unite with the Boxers—Imperial favour shown to the rebels—How the Chinese regard our civilisation—Their dream of revenge—H.M.S. flag-ship Centurion and the Whiting, Endymion, and Fame proceed to Taku.

The developments expected quickly came. The railway between Pekin and Tientsin was torn up in many places, and several station sheds, machine houses, and dwellings of Europeans—especially at Yeng-tai, six miles from Pekin—were destroyed by the Boxers.

The traffic and passenger service were necessarily interrupted; the supposed rebels were not interfered with by the authorities, and the Legations, missionaries, and other residents in Pekin found themselves, all of a sudden, in a somewhat precarious position. Fortunately the telegraph was still working.

The French Minister, who had received from his Government full authority to act on his own judgment, and to call for troops whenever he deemed them urgent, had not waited, like the other foreign Representatives, “twenty-four hours more for further developments.” He had acted quickly and wisely. So had the Russian Minister; and these two nations, which [Pg 60]have, after all, not so many subjects to protect in Northern China as has England or America, had at once sent for guards of 100 men each to be despatched to Pekin. Sir Claude and the American Minister only telegraphed for Legation guards on May 29, or nearly two days later.

The situation in Pekin was one of extreme danger; the anti-foreign feeling showing itself suddenly in all its virulence, murderous placards being posted everywhere, and Boxer instigators, such as Buddhist bonzes and preachers, collecting large crowds all over the city undisturbed, and proposing the destruction of foreigners and their property. The Imperial troops were demoralised and apparently on good terms with the Boxers, while the Government openly supplied food, arms, ammunition and clothes to the presumably “rebel” mob.

The Tsung-li-Yamên refused permission to the guards to come to Pekin, but a day later, May 31, allowed thirty marines of each nationality for the protection of the Legations.

The French and Russians, who were already on their way to Tientsin by river, were compelled to turn back, as they [Pg 61]were not in sufficient numbers to face a Chinese Imperial force which threatened to fire on them should they continue their journey. Reinforced by the British, Americans, Italians, and Japanese, they all started again together. On May 31, at 4.15 in the afternoon by special train there arrived in Pekin the following foreign troops: Three British officers and 75 men, seven American officers and 50 men, three Italian officers and 47 men, two Japanese officers and 23 men, three French officers and 72 men, and four Russian officers and 71 men. The troops took with them five quick-firing guns. The appearance of foreign troops—even in such small numbers—had for a few days a salutary effect on the Chinese, who quieted down temporarily, while much relief was felt in the Legations at the arrival of these guards, since, although scanty, they would, in case of a crisis, afford some protection to the women and children, whereas there had before been absolutely none.

The city of Pekin itself was not much disturbed, but in its immediate neighbourhood Christian converts were assassinated daily, and chapels, churches, and houses of missionaries were being looted, burnt, or destroyed.

In the Imperial Palace—although Sir Claude reported to the contrary—there existed, even before that time, not fear of, but encouragement and friendliness towards the Boxers, the Empress-Dowager, with Prince Tuan and a number of foreigner-hating Manchu princes, believing firmly that the moment had come when the Chinese could at last either kill or drive into the sea every foreign devil. It must ever be borne in mind that this notion is and will always be firmly rooted in every Chinaman’s mind. The higher he is in official position the deeper is his feeling of contempt and hatred for foreigners. One hears reports that the Chinaman [Pg 62]admires our civilisation, that he is in amazement at our inventions, that he will one day be as civilised as we are, that is to say when he has learned enough. And so the Chinese will be. He will strive to purchase machinery, guns, and ammunition, he will gradually learn how to work them, and when he does he will do it well; but this will only be in order to learn how to fight us, and to have his revenge for what he considers, probably with justice, as our offences. He will never rest content until, no matter at what cost to his nation in human life, in money, suffering, and humiliation; no matter what blows may have been dealt him, he can one day stand up fiercer than ever and strike back a harder blow at us than any he has received.

“Revenge! Revenge!” is the smothered cry of the Chinese. “The day will come when we will fight these foreign devils with their own weapons, driving them out of our country, and with them their corrupt ways, their machines, their reforms. Then shall we once again return to our old doctrines and rites, and happiness will reign for ever over our country.”

This is the dream of the Chinaman. Perhaps we shall help him to turn it into reality.

Admiral Seymour, who was at Wei-hai-wei with the fleet, seeing that matters grew worse than had at first been expected, proceeded to Taku with the flag-ship Centurion and H.M.S. Whiting, Endymion, and Fame.

The escape of the Belgian and Italian railway engineers from the town of Pao-ting-fu—Attempt to reach Tientsin by boat—M. Ketels’ relief expedition—The first refugees—In a sad plight—The journey by water—Terrible experiences—A fatal attempt to retreat to Pao-ting-fu—A junk attacked by Boxers—A fearful night.

An interesting chapter in the history of the Chinese War of 1900 was the escape of the Belgian and Italian railway engineers from the town of Pao-ting-fu.

Towards the end of May, the Belgian Consul in Tientsin received news that the railway between Shang-sin-tien and Pao-ting-fu had been utterly destroyed, and that, moreover, the engineers and their families were besieged by Boxers in Shang-sin-tien. A hurriedly-got up expedition of nine or ten men, British, Belgian, and German, started at once from Tientsin to their rescue, but when, after some considerable opposition, they reached Shang-sin-tien, they found the place absolutely destroyed, and learned that the people had fled towards Pekin.

Of those Europeans employed in the railway at Pao-ting-fu, news reached Pekin that they had obtained some boats, on which they were attempting to reach Tientsin by river. They were anxiously awaited, but days went by, and [Pg 64]much concern was felt over their fate by the residents in Tientsin. On Friday, June 8, three Chinese who were interpreters to the engineers came weeping into the Belgian Consulate, saying the Boxers had attacked their masters, and that if immediate relief were not sent they feared all would be massacred.

M. Ketels, the Belgian Consul, who had the welfare of his countrymen much at heart, there and then organised an expedition of volunteers to go to their rescue, but time was short, and the relief party counted altogether no more than thirty horsemen and ten men on foot, armed with Winchester, Mannlicher and Martini rifles. Among these men were Britishers, Belgians, French and Germans. They were divided into two columns, a party of horsemen ahead acting as scouts, the other horsemen and those on foot behind, carrying with them several cartloads of provisions and clothes for the people to be rescued, as well as for themselves.

Insulted and yelled at by a threatening mob of Chinese, they traversed Tientsin native city. One of the Chinese interpreters had volunteered to return with them to the rescue of his superiors and to act as guide.

Soon after leaving the city wall, however, the first batch of engineers were found straggling in a pitiable condition towards the settlement. They were three Belgians, who, hardly able to speak from weakness and starvation, pointed out that more were coming behind. In fact, there presently arrived quite a number—about thirty in all—of men, women, and children, barefooted and bleeding, their clothes torn and ragged, and some of the women with nothing more than a shirt or a rag to cover them. Everything had been torn from their backs. There were ten women among [Pg 65]the refugees, of whom two were in the family way—one of them seven months. Another woman, half-naked, carried tight to her breast a little baby three years old. After the severe strain, many of them, finding that they were now practically safe, collapsed with nervous prostration. They were fed and clothed and brought into the concession.

The escaping party had left Pao-ting-fu in several junks, with Mr. Sun, the Chinese director of the railways, at their head. They were not bodily hurt in Pao-ting-fu itself, where a crowd of over ten thousand people had assembled to witness their departure, merely showering insults upon them. As they proceeded down river, repeated signs of hostility on the part of the natives were encountered, stones were thrown at them, and shots fired.

Sun and Mr. Ossant’s interpreter, another Chinese, fearing that the worst had not yet come, tried to screen the Europeans by closing the sides of the cabin in the junk. It was an anxious time for those boxed inside, for they could see nothing, but they heard the yells of the angry mob following the junks on both sides of the narrow river, and stones and bullets were pelting on the roof and sides of the cabin. Having rounded a bend in the river, they were now approaching a village. The roaring sound of a gong was fast collecting a threatening crowd of villagers, who rushed towards the river bank as the junk drifted down with the current. A terrific fusillade was opened on the first boats that arrived, and even old cannon firing mitraille were used by the Chinese in order to sink the boats. The Europeans, many of them badly wounded, were compelled to rush out of the cabins, and desperate endeavours were made to land on the opposite side of the river. Only one junk—the last, occupied by the engineer-in-chief, [Pg 66]Mr. Ossant, his sister, and the two Italian engineers, Cadei and Penzaro—turned back, and strove to steer towards Pao-ting-fu. The attempt was fatal. The junk went some little distance, a fanatical crowd of Boxers following, brandishing their tridents, swords and guns, and firing from close quarters. Those who had landed, regardless of the danger to themselves, were watching with swollen hearts the desperate attempts of the crew that was going up stream. The junk stopped; it must have become stuck in the mud. The Chinese rushed into the water. In a moment there were swarms of them all round the boat, kept at bay by the brave men inside, but the number of assailants grew and grew. The Europeans who had landed endeavoured to go to the assistance of their friends, but they too were hard pressed and could do nothing.

Night came. The distant yells of the Boxers attacking the boat ceased. Some of the Europeans, screened by the darkness of the night, crept along the river bank and went to look for their friends. The junk was no more, and they feared—doubtless with but too much truth, since nothing was heard of them later—that Ossant and all the others had perished, massacred by the merciless Chinese. The body of a European woman, swollen and ripped open, was seen floating down the river—and was presumably that of Ossant’s sister.

A disastrous journey on foot—Chased by Boxers—Hand-to-hand fights—Dissension among the refugees—Separation—The last night—Hiding in a marsh—The capture of a Chinese gun—Safe at last—M. Ketels and his volunteers—Cossacks and their pluck—Lieutenant Blonsky the most wounded officer of the Allies.

The next morning the small party of survivors tried to proceed on foot to Tientsin. The boats, with provisions and clothes, had been abandoned or sunk.

Marching incessantly day and night, followed by a swarm of Boxers, whom they just managed to keep at bay, with no food except grass and the water of marshes, they pushed on and on, exhausted, panting, footsore and bleeding, chased by the angry mob of human vampires behind them.

When they became half dead with fatigue, or when they were waiting for the women and children to rest awhile, the Boxers grew bold, and on six occasions made fierce attacks on them. But these brave men were armed with old Chinese Mauser rifles, and each attack was repulsed. Over seventy Boxers were killed by them.

They found their way by following the line of telegraph poles. In some instances the Boxers came to such close quarters that a hand-to-hand fight arose, in which the women took part with the men.

Their sufferings were appalling, and their strength had almost altogether vanished, yet, clinging to life to the last minute, they dragged themselves nearer and nearer to the place where they would be safe. Only two more days and nights of marching, and Tientsin would be reached!

The party, already small and weak, broke up, for even in such straits, when their one very faint chance seemed to lie in keeping together, there were some who thought they might have a better opportunity of safely escaping if alone.

Six left the rest to shift for themselves. Of these six, two, Baillau, a Belgian, and Dillon, a Frenchman, were never heard of again. What with the heat, fatigue, wounds and hunger, Dillon had completely gone out of his mind. During the last few days he behaved like a madman, and caused additional anxiety to the party.

The main body of the party, now thinned out, and at the stage when only a few more hours’ journey divided them from the arms of their friends, were slowly marching on, the last night before reaching Tientsin. The Boxers, some 4000 in number, who, not unlike famished ravens waiting for the last breath of their prey, had been hunting these poor wretches all along, evidently made up their minds not to let them escape at the last moment. In the middle of the night they surrounded the Europeans on all sides and kept up a heavy fire on them. The poor wretches were driven from the shelter they had found, and only escaped by plunging into a marsh, where they spent the remainder of the night in muddy water right up to their nostrils. They kept close together in a bunch to keep warm. No pen is adequate to describe their sufferings. The night never seemed to end.

In the morning they came out, and with the hot sun some [Pg 69]of their strength and a faint ray of hope came back to them. The Boxers, who had withdrawn, returned to the attack, this time with two old-fashioned cannon, which fired shot after shot, without, indeed, doing any execution, but which barred the way and made it impossible for the party to proceed.

Six men volunteered to sacrifice themselves for the sake of the others. They rushed, rifles in hand, towards the Chinese gunners, who, incredible as it may seem to people not acquainted with Chinese cowardice, abandoned the guns and stampeded in every direction. This victory gave the poor wretches renewed courage, and Tientsin city was now in full sight.

They pushed on faster than they had previously done. The miles seemed short as compared to those of preceding [Pg 70]days. The wounded—and nearly all were more or less seriously injured—supported one another as they stumbled along. Nearly every man carried a rifle and a few rounds of ammunition, probably an average of sixty or seventy cartridges each. Everything else except these weapons of defence had been discarded. It was only at very close quarters that they ever fired on the Boxers, and these invariably showed contemptible cowardice. When a few of them fell dead the others bolted away.

The journey from Pao-ting-fu occupied some six days of continuous marching—slow, naturally, on account of the women, children, and wounded. Half naked, these heroes were met, as we have seen, by the relief party, who led them back into Tientsin.

M. Ketels, the Belgian Consul, showed much energy and consideration in proceeding to their rescue the moment he heard of their predicament, and it was by his doing that they received every necessary care and medical treatment when in Tientsin.

He, on the other hand, who gave me these interesting details, expressed his high admiration and gratitude to those British, French, German, and all other volunteers, who, without a moment’s hesitation, accompanied him on their charitable and plucky work of rescue.

When all the refugees arrived were mustered there were six still missing, but no one could tell what had become of them, nor where they had been lost.

There were at that moment, waiting in Tientsin for orders, twenty-five Cossacks, who had been destined to make part of the Legation guard in Pekin. M. Ketels obtained permission from the Russians, which was readily and graciously granted, to send these mounted men in [Pg 71]search of the missing engineers. They were despatched at once, and were out three whole days scouring the country all round. On the second day they met with a large force of Boxers, and pluckily charged them; but, unfortunately, in this encounter the Russian Lieutenant Blonsky, who behaved with extraordinary bravery, received no less than fourteen wounds from spears, swords, and bullets, his horse having died under him. A Cossack had his nose cut clean off by a sword. The most unfortunate part was that the doctor-surgeon of the expedition was badly wounded in the arms, and was unable to render assistance to those who needed it. Nearly all the Cossacks received some wound or other in this engagement, and, fearing that a delay in attending to their leader might cause his death, the expedition was compelled to return to Tientsin.

A strange coincidence: Lieutenant Blonsky, who was endowed with an iron constitution, was cared for in the hospital, and gradually became better. He was eventually allowed out, and when he had barely regained sufficient strength was one day, during the siege of Tientsin, riding a bicycle on the Victoria road, to convey an important message for his superior officer. A shell burst above his head and inflicted on him six more wounds. One piece of the shell tore off the greater part of his left arm.

With twenty wounds, received within a space of a few weeks, Lieutenant Blonsky was certainly entitled to be called the most wounded officer of the Allies in the Chinese war.

Strange to say, although crippled, he recovered from these last wounds as well as from the first, and regained good health.

The circumstance speaks volumes for the toughness of the Russian soldiers in general, and their officers in particular.

A coup d’état feared—Situation in Pekin grave—Messrs. Robinson and Norman murdered—Chinese Christians in serious straits—An interview with Prince Ching—Refusal of the Chinese Government to deal firmly with the Boxers—Difficulties in obtaining an Imperial audience—Hampering formalities—A conference on the flag-ship Centurion—Sir Claude MacDonald’s discretion left unfettered by his Government—Evil effects of the Chinese decree in the Pekin Gazette.

A coup d’état being seriously feared, upon the flight of the Empress-Dowager, the Russian and British Ministers were both instructed by their respective Governments to support any form of reliable authority which would maintain peace in China.

The situation in Pekin was getting extremely grave, and the French Minister, who was kept well informed, notified his colleagues, and urged them to take steps. Even then, on June 4, Sir Claude was uncertain whether there was any gravity or not in the situation, notwithstanding that another missionary, Mr. Robinson, had been murdered in a most shocking manner, and yet another, Mr. Norman, was captured and detained prisoner by Boxers. These things happened at Lanfang, nearly half way up the line between Pekin and Tientsin, where the Church of England Mission houses had been attacked by the mob.

The native Christians were in serious straits, as nothing short of wholesale slaughter seemed to satisfy the Boxers. It is probable that had Messrs. Robinson and Norman abandoned the Christians to their fate at the beginning of the trouble, they—the two Englishmen—might have escaped with their lives. But they were men of honour. They would not leave their post of duty in moments of danger, and, although massacre stared them in the face, they stood like men to protect those whom they had brought up in the faith of Christ.

An escaped native convert conveyed the news that Mr. Robinson, with five Christians, had been battered to death, and that Mr. Norman, wounded, had been made a prisoner by a man called Li, who had once suffered punishment for expounding anti-Christian ideas. Li was the headman of a small town close by, and he had not got over the loss of a beloved son killed in a fight between Boxers and native Christians. He prayed for revenge, and he obtained it by the murder at his own hands of the Rev. H. V. Norman.

Mr. Robinson was an intimate friend—in fact they had come to China together—of Mr. Brooks, whose murder first called attention in Europe to the seriousness of the Boxer movement.

Sir Claude, believing that Mr. Norman was still alive, called in person at the Yamên to ascertain what steps the Chinese Government proposed to take to punish the offenders and to obtain the immediate release of the captive missionary. The responsibility of the whole affair, he was impudently informed, fell on the Viceroy; a telegraphic message had been sent bidding him take what steps were necessary, and no more would be done. They did not express regret, or show the least anxiety to effect [Pg 74]the relief of the imprisoned man, and exhibited the greatest indifference during the interview. This was probably because, as the Yamên no doubt knew, Norman had already been murdered.

Sir Claude refused to discuss matters further with the Yamên, and demanded an interview with Prince Ching, which was fixed for June 6.

The interview with Prince Ching and the Ministers of the Yamên was of a more satisfactory character, deep regret being expressed by the Chinese at what had happened. Prince Ching did not conceal the fact that the Government were not prepared to deal firmly with the Boxer movement, which, owing to its extreme anti-foreign character, was popular. He gave Sir Claude to understand that he could not guarantee the safety of foreigners in Pekin, nor anywhere in China, although he fully understood that this failure on the part of the Chinese Government to suppress the anti-foreign movement might bring about foreign intervention. The Tientsin-Pekin railway was guarded by some six thousand Imperial soldiers, of whom he doubted whether they would carry out instructions to fire on the Boxers for the protection of foreigners.

Indirectly, Prince Ching explained how he had failed to impress the Court with the danger of inaction on the part of the Government. The Empress-Dowager was being ill advised, and he was powerless to remedy the evil.

Sir Claude MacDonald fully explained to the Prince and Ministers that, however much friendly Powers might regret intervention, it would become necessary if the Government failed to suppress the Boxer movement, by which the lives of foreigners in China were endangered.

Sir Claude MacDonald and the other Ministers of foreign [Pg 75]Powers certainly did not leave a stone unturned to impress upon the Chinese the gravity of the situation, and to warn them of the consequences. Now that all other means had practically failed, it was decided to demand an audience at Court, in order to make direct representations to the Empress-Dowager and the Emperor. This, however, involved some delay, as none of the Ministers in Pekin had Ambassadors’ privileges, and the audience would in all probability be at first refused.

Sir Claude rightly expressed his opinion that the demands for the audience should be enforced, and Lord Salisbury concurred in his views. It was agreed to represent strongly to the Throne that unless law and order were immediately re-established, and the Boxers suppressed, the foreign Powers would be obliged to take measures to suppress that movement themselves, the present state of affairs in North China being looked upon as one of grave danger to life and damaging to the interests of foreigners.

Owing to the hampering formalities in diplomatic circles, there was some delay in demanding the audience, but in the meantime Lord Salisbury took all precautions to be ready for any emergency.

“The wire to Tientsin may be cut at any moment; please send immediate instructions to the Admiral,” Sir Claude telegraphed on the 5th.

Vice-Admiral Sir Edward Seymour, judging the situation of extreme gravity, had ordered the Phœnix and Aurora from Wei-Hai-Wei to Taku and the Humber to Shan-hai-Kuan. On June 6 the Senior Naval Officers of the British, Russian, German, French, Italian, Austrian, American and Japanese warships at Taku held a conference on H.M. flagship Centurion, in order to prepare, if necessary, for [Pg 76]a combined action. The British Government left a wide discretion to the Commander-in-Chief of the squadron as to the measures to be taken, and the Governments of other Powers represented had adopted a similar course, so that matters proceeded without a hitch, the greatest harmony reigning in the relations of the officers of the several nations.

Lord Salisbury and the Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs instructed Sir Claude that his discretion must be quite unfettered, and that he could take what measures he thought expedient.

The Chinese Government was still wavering, and published a decree in the Pekin Gazette which was supposed to please everybody, Boxers and foreigners alike, but which, not unlike previous edicts, had exactly the opposite effect.

Imperial Decree from the Pekin Gazette, June 6—Western Churches and men of evil character—Boxers the patriots and champions of peace—The children of the throne—Official neglect of duties—Riots—Disbandment of societies—The Generalissimo Jung-lu to pursue and punish the rebels—Secret investigations—No mercy.

The situation in Pekin critical—Boxer placard posted in the West City Pekin—Boxer altars—Drilling of Boxers—Foreigners mobbed—Cataleptic subjects exhibited by Buddhist priests—Vice-Admiral Seymour in command of Relief Expedition—Rear-Admiral Bruce in command of British Squadron—An alarming message—Force landed.

The situation in Pekin and the surrounding country was critical. In the city the Boxers assembled undisturbed in the streets, and official placards for the protection of foreigners were torn down by the mob the moment they were put up, while Boxer placards, such as the one here reproduced, were left on the walls, circulated, and eagerly read by thousands of people.

Boxer altars had been erected in the streets and in nearly every house. Drilling of the Ih-hwo-Ch’uan’s members went on even in the houses of Chinese officials, and young boys in a cataleptic state were exhibited by Buddhist priests in various parts of the town as a palpable example of the “white devils’” infamy. Foreigners and native Christians were threatened and mobbed in the streets. It was unsafe for Europeans to venture out of their houses.

It was evident that the continuance of communication with the capital was only a matter of days, possibly only of hours, and the question now arose who, in case of a relief expedition being sent to the aid of the Legations, should take command of the International force. The unanimous appointment to this honoured post of Vice-Admiral Sir Edward Seymour not only received the approval of Lord Salisbury and the Admiralty, but was pleasing to the whole British nation. It was gratifying to see that he had for Chief of Staff a Russian colonel. The command [Pg 84]of the British squadron off Taku, at the mouth of the Pei-ho, was left to Rear-Admiral Bruce.

In order to avoid unduly depleting the ships of men, Sir Edward requested, and obtained, that troops from Hong-Kong and Singapore should be kept at his disposal.

On June 10 the following alarming message was received by the Admiral from Sir Claude MacDonald:

“Situation extremely grave. Unless arrangements are made for immediate advance on Pekin, it will be too late.”

A force of all available men was landed at once, and officers of all nationalities present at Taku co-operated in getting together as many men as possible to be despatched to the relief of the Legations.

The Chinese Government informed the various Legations in Pekin that should the force not exceed 1200 men their march to the capital would not be opposed.

A meeting of Consuls and Naval Commandants in Tientsin—More alarming news from the Capital—French and Russian advice—The usual formalities—Four trains proceed to the Relief of Pekin—Imperial troops at Yangtsun—The first troubles of the Expedition—Railway line damaged—Approaching enemy—The first engagement with Boxers—Great bravery of the fanatics—Reinforcements for the Allies—At Lanfang—Railway torn up.

On the evening of June 9 a meeting of Consuls and Naval Commandants was held in the French Consulate at Tientsin, to consider the urgent request of the Ministers in Pekin for the despatch to that city of a second contingent of guards.

The British, Italian, Japanese, Austrian, and American leaders agreed to send all men available as quickly as possible for the purpose of restoring the railway to the capital, and of releasing the Legations as soon as the line was in working order.

More alarming news continued to come from Pekin, and the country between Pekin and Tientsin was reported infested by Boxers. It was suggested by the Russians and [Pg 86]French at this conference that it would be inadvisable and useless under the circumstances to despatch a force of less than 1500 men, as the railway had been torn up in many places. Troops were coming from Port Arthur, and their arrival might be awaited. Nevertheless, if it were decided to despatch detachments, both Russia and France, although recognising the inutility of such an expedition, would gladly take part.

Sir Claude MacDonald’s telegram of the 9th: “Situation extremely grave; unless arrangements are made for immediate advance to Pekin it will be too late,” spoke too plainly to allow of any delay, but the haste to rescue their fellow creatures from danger brought disastrous results to a brave and noble group of men.

The usual formalities were not done away with even in such a pressing emergency, and it was stipulated at the Consuls’ meeting that the Viceroy should be requested to furnish train accommodation for the detachments to leave on the morning of the 10th. In fact, three trains started on that date to convey the relief column to Pekin, and they were composed as follows:

A fourth and similar train to No. 3 was despatched the following day, the 11th. The uncovered trucks were directly behind the engine. They were armoured, and had Hotchkiss machine guns mounted on them.

The trains left Tientsin at 9.30 A.M. on June 10. The Allied forces carried on them were: 915 British, 450 Germans, 300 Russians, 158 French, 100 Americans, 52 Japanese, 40 Italians, 25 Austrians. One hundred coolies were also taken to repair the line where necessary.

The force was under the supreme command of Vice-Admiral Sir Edward Seymour, who proceeded in the first train with the British contingent. The Japanese, with Captain Mori, were in train No. 2.

The station of Yangtsun, 30 miles from Tientsin, was reached at 1 P.M. the same day, and so far the railway line was in good condition, nor were any traces of the Boxers or of their destructive work noticeable. At Yangtsun, near the station, Chinese Imperial troops, under General Nieh, were encamped, and had mounted four guns commanding the station platform and railway line. The iron bridge was intact.

No hostile demonstration took place on the part of the Chinese, and after stopping for water the trains proceeded. There were Chinese soldiers posted all along the railway line.

Some three and a half miles beyond the Yangtsun bridge [Pg 88]the troubles of the expedition began. The trains came to a dead stop, for the railway had been badly damaged, the rails torn up, the sleepers burnt, and the bridges partly destroyed. A halt was consequently called in order to repair the line, and the night was spent at that place.

Early the next morning the work was commenced, and before noon, with the materials conveyed in the trucks, the line was patched up enough for the trains to continue slowly towards the next station of Lappa.

Late in the afternoon, at about six, the train stopped and the alarm was given that the enemy was approaching. Major Johnstone and six marines, followed by Midshipman Davies and ten marines, were marching some distance ahead of the train along the line to examine its condition, when a body of Boxers was noticed leaving the village, in order, apparently, to cut them off from the trains. Retreating in due haste towards the main body of the force, the small party kept up an exciting running fight with the enemy. When only a few hundred yards from the train the bluejackets poured a hot fire from the railway embankment into the Boxers, and drove them towards the main British force. The enemy was then exposed to a severe cross fire from the Maxims and rifles of the Centurion’s men. The marines had alighted from the trucks to repel the attack of this horde of fanatics, who ran close under the guns, waving their swords, pitchforks and clubs. As they actually came within a range of two or three hundred yards, their red turbans and sashes could plainly be seen, showing that they were Boxers, and not regular troops. They carried no firearms to speak of, except old-fashioned matchlocks. Some of the enemy were mounted, but the majority were on foot, young boys, apparently in a state [Pg 91]of hysterical frenzy, running wildly in front of the mad crowd. Their number in all was estimated at close upon 1500. They showed astounding bravery, dashing upon the British and exposing themselves with bare chests to the bullets of foreign rifles.

For an hour the fusillade was kept up—on one side only—with Maxims and rifles while these fanatics dashed to the attack time after time with their primitive weapons. They were repulsed, and were believed to have suffered heavily. According to Sir E. Seymour, thirty-five were killed, but whether, during the night, they removed their dead and wounded, or for some other reason, only very few bodies of men and horses were found the following day on the battlefield. There were no casualties on the side of the Allies.

The trains, with the Allies, reinforced by two hundred more Russians and fifty-eight French (arrived on the 11th) and now, altogether 2000 strong, resumed their slow journey the following morning towards Lanfang, taking every precaution against a sudden attack.

Lanfang was reached at noon without further mishap, but north of this place the rails had been torn up, badly twisted or destroyed. In places the rails had been carried away bodily for several hundred yards of line, and thrown into the river, so that they could not be found. Reparation of the line was commenced at once, and with alacrity, but unfortunately a sufficient quantity of rails and sleepers were not at hand, and it became evident that several days must pass before the trains could go any further. Three hundred more Russians proceeded to the assistance of the expedition (June 12), bringing the total number of men under Sir Edward Seymour to 2300.

Head-quarters at Lanfang—Entry of troops into Pekin to be opposed—Murder of the Chancellor of the Japanese Legation—Conciliatory visits and orders to slaughter—Customs buildings wrecked—European graveyard desecrated—A specified date—Danger of the relief force being cut off—The advisability of capturing the Taku forts—On June 13—A skirmish of Americans and Boxers—An attempt to destroy the armoured trains—An Italian picket cut off—Chinese vitality—Rushing quick-firing guns.

Head-quarters were made at Lanfang for the night, and on the 13th the railway was found to be so broken up that in the next twenty-four hours, although there was no fighting, an advance of only three miles was made by the relieving force. The Boxers were reported in great numbers two miles ahead of the Allies, and a courier arrived from the capital reporting that hostile preparations were being made by the population and Imperial troops, with General Tung-Fu-Hsiang at their head, to oppose the entry of the foreign troops into the city, and that Mr. Sogiyama, Chancellor of the Japanese Legation, had been barbarously murdered by the soldiers of General Tung’s cavalry when on his way to the station, while European Legation Students had had narrow escapes in several parts of the Tartar and Chinese city, being obliged to defend themselves with their revolvers.

There was no doubt that the lives of all foreigners in Pekin were in great danger, notwithstanding the assurances given by the Yamên that if no more than 1200 men were sent, the Chinese Government would not oppose their march to Pekin. When these conciliatory visits of the Yamên Ministers to Sir Claude MacDonald took place (on June 12), it was already well known by the Chinese all over the country that the Empress-Dowager had issued orders to the Boxers to destroy the Legations and murder all foreigners. The British Summer Legation on the hills some 12 miles from Pekin had already been burned (June 13), and on that same evening the old Custom-House buildings, the grand stand of the Race-Course, and various mission schools and residences had been entered by Boxers, looted, and burnt to the ground, many defenceless servants of Europeans, converts, and Chinese Christians being mercilessly massacred. Even the European graveyard was desecrated, the bodies disinterred, and the tombstones smashed. The date specified for the destruction of the Legations was June 16.

When this alarming news came from the capital, Sir Edward Seymour and his plucky force made superhuman efforts to restore rail communication with the Tartar city as speedily as possible, little knowing that behind them, in Tientsin itself, the situation was becoming serious. The force was in imminent danger of being cut off by the Chinese, who were concentrating their Imperial troops in such great numbers in the surrounding country of Tientsin and Taku, that the Admirals deemed it advisable to take immediate possession of the Taku and Tong-ku forts before a complete and formidable concentration was allowed to take place.

In America and Europe the Admirals were much blamed [Pg 94]for coming to this conclusion; in fact, they have been even accused of unduly treating the Chinese without tact or respect. But few people seem to consider that had the Chinese been able to concentrate a great force of well-armed men, whom they had ready, at these forts—the key, as it were, of the Pei-ho river—not only the Legations in Pekin but the large settlement of Tientsin itself would have been at the absolute mercy of the Celestials.

On June 13 the relief party was still hard at work on the railroad beyond Lanfang, half-way to Pekin. A party of Americans had a skirmish with a hundred Boxers and killed a number of them, while some British marines of the advance were fiercely attacked six miles from headquarters by a horde of fanatics armed with knives and waving large banners. The marines duly repulsed them, killing over one hundred.

On June 14, the Boxers made a most determined attempt to seize and destroy the armoured trains. It was at about 10 A.M. and some of the Allies were resting, or washing their clothes, while others were working on the line. The Boxers managed to conceal themselves until they were about two hundred yards from the trains, when they sprang out yelling their war cry, and rushed on the Allies. Our men emptied their magazines upon them, but still they rushed on with astounding bravery, fully exposed to the fire of the Allies, careless of their lives, and waving their swords and knives. A Maxim gun was turned on them when they were but sixty or seventy yards away and the execution it did was terrific as its thousands of shots rattled into the solid mass of human beings rushing on towards the Allies under this murderous fire. Notwithstanding this bravery—due, no doubt, to the more or less firm belief in their own invulnerability—when [Pg 95]the rows of fanatics behind trod on the rows of dead and bleeding fallen in front, their courage failed them, and dropping pitchforks, swords, and matchlocks, they bolted for dear life.

Several chasing parties were sent out to pursue them in all directions, and to clear the nearest villages of the enemy. Unfortunately, a picket of Italians was cut off and surrounded by the Chinese, and one petty officer and four marines were killed. Their bodies were found fearfully mutilated.

The vitality of the Chinese when wounded by small-bore bullets was remarkable. Some struck by one or two projectiles would continue running towards the Maxims, and on examination several dead had no less than four or five wounds. The bodies of a few of their braver men were found only forty yards from the position of the Allies, and fully 150 of their men lay dead around the battlefield, victims of their foolhardy attempts to rush our quick-firing guns.

A second attack—Report of a scouting party—Matters in Tientsin reach a crisis—Imperial soldiers destroying the railway line at Yangtsun—The return of the Expedition—Villages burnt—Germans capture junks—An attack on the trains by Boxers and Imperial troops—Enemy well-armed—Casualties of the Allies—Critical situation for the Relief Expedition—The trains abandoned—On the march—The enemy attacked and driven away from a strong position—Attack on a village in possession of Boxers and soldiers—The British Consul and the Viceroy of Tientsin—Mr. Carles’ telegram—Lord Salisbury’s generous offer.

The same afternoon a second attack, by a force of Boxers estimated at 2000, was made on the Lofa station. They were again repulsed, leaving 50 or 60 dead, while the Allies had no serious casualties. A scouting party, under Major Johnstone, reported that the railway further up the line was in a dreadful condition, the rails having been torn up and carried away for several miles. Furthermore, things in Tientsin were coming to a crisis. The native city was at the mercy of the Boxers, and chapels and houses of Christians had been burnt down. The railway, too, between Tientsin and Lofa was torn up in several places and the bridges wrecked. Near Yangtsun particularly, where, as we have seen, large numbers of Imperial soldiers were encamped, the damage to the line was greatest, and had in all [Pg 97]probability been carried out by those very same soldiers who were sent ostensibly to protect the railway. The work of destruction had, it is now ascertained, been carried on by direct order, and under the supervision of Chinese officers.

Unable to keep open the communication, running short of ammunition and provisions, the water of the wells poisoned by corpses of men and animals thrown into them, and advance being absolutely impossible—to say nothing of the probability of being cut off—it was decided that, in the circumstances, it would be wise for the expedition to return to Tientsin.

Nothing of importance happened on June 15, 16, and 17, the time being spent in foraging and clearing villages of Boxers. The villages were burnt down, wherever the attitude of the natives was hostile.

The following day (18th), at Yangtsun, the Germans captured a number of Imperial junks carrying off railway materials. The trains that were up at Lanfang were on their way back to Yangtsun, when, shortly before three in the afternoon, they were attacked by Boxers, who, for the first time, were supported by some 6000 Imperial troops.

The fight was a very hard one, the Chinese soldiers being armed with modern Mauser and Mannlicher rifles, with which, however, they merely fired at random, or the Allies would have suffered more than they did. The Boxers, too, on this occasion had been armed (evidently by the Government) with similar rifles of precision, which, fortunately, they did not know how to use. They all fired too high, evidently unaccustomed to the use of our sights when elevated, and when they drew nearer forgot to lower their sights, firing consequently much too high to inflict serious damage on the Allies. Had the troops, too, been drilled in [Pg 98]as efficient a way as they were armed escape would have been impossible for the armoured trains of the Allies. The regular troops, it is true, fired considerably better than the Boxers, but to the Boxers must be given the credit of bearing the brunt of the battle, for they were made to advance first. The fighting continued sharp till 5 P.M., when the Chinese retreated in confusion. Their loss was stated to amount to some 500 killed.

The casualties of the Allies were 6 killed (2 British, 3 Russian, 1 German) and 60 wounded, of whom 30 were British, 20 German, and the rest Russian.

The situation was getting critical for the Relief Expedition, as it was impossible to proceed; communication was altogether cut with Tientsin, and the railway was now destroyed on either side of the force. There remained but one thing to do, and that was to abandon the trains and march back to Tientsin along the river bank, conveying provisions by water. It was not possible to take more than three days’ half-rations.

The morning of the 19th and the greater part of the afternoon were employed in preparing for the march back, and at 4 P.M. the British force, with three 9-pounder field guns and several Maxims and machine-guns, followed by the Austrian and Japanese, also with field guns, headed the column on the return march. Lieutenants Colomb and Farie were with the 9-pounder guns, and the Centurion and Endymion’s contingents had charge of the machine guns.

The march was at first without incident, and the night passed quietly. The next evening (20th) it was not till towards eight that the Chinese Imperial troops were signalled as approaching—others, either Boxers or Regulars, were [Pg 99]entrenched in a position commanding the river and in a village.

The British 9-pounders and the American 3-inch guns opened a well-directed fire with shrapnel at close range. It seemed to prove too hot for the enemy. After a few minutes’ accurate firing their volleys became wild and careless, and they retired from their trenches and village, so that an hour later the Allies were able to continue their march. Sniping caused the Allies some slight casualties.

Another village, reached shortly after ten o’clock, and expected to be full of Chinese troops, was attacked by the Allies, the French and Americans occupying the advance, and the British proceeding under cover of the river bank. The British 9-pounders poured shrapnel into the village from the first, but it was not till four o’clock in the afternoon that the enemy retreated, leaving behind a handsome Hotchkiss 1-pounder, with which their gunners had made quite creditable practice. From under cover they continued firing upon the Allies until these were well within the village.

From the 14th to the 20th, while these developments were taking place up the line, Tientsin itself, notwithstanding the promises of protection given by Chinese officials, was in a sorry plight. It seems incredible, but is nevertheless true, that, even at this critical moment, the British Consul in Tientsin had apparently not yet realised the farce that was being played by the Viceroy of Tientsin and other Chinese officials. He seemed to have taken seriously all that they chose to tell him, and even sent to Lord Salisbury the following telegram, comments on which are not needed:

“Tientsin, June 15. The native city is practically in the hands of the Boxers and the mob, who have burnt down the [Pg 100]chapels, and compelled Chinese officials to get out of their chairs in the streets.

“The action of the Viceroy has been very correct (sic). Communication with the Admiral is cut off. The situation is more serious than he is aware of. A portion of the Russian troops still remains in this place.”

It is evident from the Consul’s own words, that if the Russians deemed it necessary to detain their troops in Tientsin—and we shall see later what a godsend it was that they did so—there must have been a reason for it. Russian officials knew better than to report to their respective Governments in such eulogistic terms of the Viceroy’s conduct. It will also be interesting in a later chapter to glance at the documents found after the fall of Tientsin, in the Viceroy’s Yamên, which do not bear out the British Consul’s information.

“You should inform the Viceroy that it is open to him to take refuge on one of her Majesty’s ships in the event of his considering himself in danger”!

Lord Salisbury, nevertheless, was not the person to blame in [Pg 101]the affair, for he acted on the information of servants of the nation, whom it was his duty to trust. Indeed, he showed a noble heart and much thoughtful consideration for the official whom he supposed pro-foreign—a consideration which could not have been more misplaced.

Firing in the direction of Tientsin—The Pei-tsang fight—Under heavy fire—Captain Jellicoe mortally wounded—Four hours’ hard fighting—Tientsin hard pressed—Hampered by wounded—Short of ammunition and food—A Chinese feint—The Allies in a trap—The storming of a fort and arsenal—An unsuccessful attempt to open communication with Tientsin—The Chinese gallantly endeavour to recapture their lost position—Captain McCalla—The death of Captain Beyts.

The anxiety of those in command of the Relief Expedition was not lessened by the fact that for the last two days constant firing had been heard in the direction of Tientsin, particularly early in the morning and in the afternoon.

On June 21, shortly after the Allies had started on the march, the Imperial troops were seen to convey their guns to the village of Pei-tsang, which is intersected by the road to Tientsin. Then, at a quarter-past eight in the morning, a mass of Nieh’s cavalry came into action, while the Chinese from Pei-tsang began to shell the position of the Allies. The enemy had apparently measured the range beforehand, and made very good practice, especially when firing at the junks, which were easy targets. The Chinese fire was the most severe to which the expedition had so far been subjected, and the behaviour of all the men alike, whether British, Russian, Japanese, Italian, French, German or [Pg 103]Austrian, was admirable in every possible way. The 9-pounder guns were placed in position, and kept up an accurate fire on the enemy. An advance was made on the village under the rattling fire of the Maxims from the Endymion and the American 3-inch gun, using shrapnel. The enemy was driven away, and retired to the next village of Pei-tsang proper, a short distance off, where the Chinese had made trenches, which they held with dogged resolution.

In the advance, while the Russians and Germans were marching at the extreme left on the opposite bank of the stream, the Allies were exposed to a heavy fire. Unhappily the brave Flag-Captain Jellicoe, of the Centurion, was mortally wounded, while Lieut. Bamber, two midshipmen, and ten men sustained more or less serious injuries. It took the Allies four hours’ hard fighting to enter the village [Pg 104]of Pei-tsang, the ground having to be conquered inch by inch. The Chinese were in the meantime heavily shelling the Allies as they passed through the village, and as, with one or two exceptions, they used smokeless powder, our gunners could not succeed in placing and silencing the enemy’s field pieces. When darkness began to set in, the actual fighting ceased, but firing continued spasmodically from the Chinese all through the evening.

Hampered by the many wounded, depressed at the news that Tientsin settlement was hard pressed and unable to despatch help; with ammunition running short, and the enemy getting more formidable every hour; tired and hungry, the Allies left camp soon after twelve, under cover of the night.

June 22.—Matters went fairly well until sunrise, when several volleys were fired at the expedition by the Chinese from the left bank of the Pei-ho. This was no doubt an expedient on their part to mask their actual position, and the Allies, who had been unable to carry on a successful system of scouting, walked unawares into a trap laid by the enemy. The advance guard and main body of the expedition marched gaily into the ambush, and were suddenly confronted by a deadly rifle and artillery fire from four guns.

Two parties, one of German marines, the other British, crossed the river almost simultaneously to occupy a position commanding the Chinese forts, and at half-past six a bayonet charge, led by Major Johnstone, was made upon the fort which had fired on the Allies. The marines and their leader showed great pluck in carrying the fort and seizing five most excellent modern guns, with plenty of ammunition. The Chinese soldiers, who had fought quite [Pg 105]well under cover, fled at the approach of the marines, and at close range made no kind of stand. With considerable smartness the British and German marines turned the newly acquired guns upon the retreating enemy, and inflicted much damage on them.

In the Arsenal were found quantities of Mauser and Mannlicher rifles and Winchester carbines, with masses of ammunition of German, American, and Chinese manufacture.

An endeavour was made to open the line of communication with Tientsin by sending a force of 120 marines, under Captains Beyts and Doig, guided by Currie, the Allies in the meantime holding the forts, which afforded good protection, and in which there was ample ammunition to make an effective defence against attack. The small party started in the morning.

The Chinese, 6000 strong, returned early in the afternoon, and made a fierce attempt to recapture the position which they had lost in the morning. They rushed the forts and Arsenal with astounding and unexpected determination, and poured a heavy shell-fire into the forts with their artillery—one well-manned gun, in particular, mounted on the railway line, only a mile off, causing the Allies much discomfort and some damage.

After two hours’ resolute and really business-like fighting, the Chinese, who had made several gallant rushes to recapture the forts, were repulsed, routed, and hotly pursued. The Allies, who killed many, set on fire the neighbouring villages, which might have afforded protection to the enemy.

Much comment was, as usual, aroused among critics at home by the exaggerated report that in this engagement the Allies had killed the Chinese wounded “wholesale.” Some [Pg 106]of the wounded were, in fact, killed, but only in cases of absolute necessity. For instance, men, seemingly dead, suddenly rose treacherously to stab officers and men from behind, and naturally had to be shot in self-defence.

Among the many wounded on the Allied side was the American Captain McCalla, of the Newark. Captain Bucholtz, of the Kaiserin Augusta, was killed.

From sunset to sunrise nothing happened, but with the first rays of light the Chinese opened a well-directed fire on the forts. Along the defences of the Allies men were constantly falling. During the night the party that had started for Tientsin returned, having met with severe opposition from Boxers and troops in overwhelming numbers. Captain Beyts, to whose gallantry no sufficient tribute can be paid, and three men, had been killed, while two others were wounded.

Two quiet days—Harassing the enemy—A dust storm—Signals of distress—The use of newly acquired guns—Foreign troops sighted—The relief force relieved by Colonel Shirinsky—Removing the wounded—International brotherly feeling—An appalling number of wounded—Back in Tientsin—What the men thought of Admiral Seymour—Seymour’s tribute to his men.

June 23 and 24 were two quiet days, which the Allies employed in fortifying their defences and harassing the enemy by means of the 4-inch guns and a one-pounder captured in the arsenal, while the Germans worked the splendid Krupp guns—ex-property of the Chinese—which had now been mounted on the earthworks of the forts.

An attack on the part of the Chinese was feared, but never came off. Hardly a shot was fired by the Allies on the 24th, and no Chinese were seen. The heat was intense, and a dust-storm blew fiercely during the whole day; thanks, however, to quantities of rice and other provisions which had been found in the stores of the arsenal, and to the fresh supply of excellent weapons and ammunition of the latest and most perfected pattern, the force could now have held out for several days. One thing only hampered the plucky defenders in the Wuku Arsenal, and that was the great number of wounded, for whom but scanty [Pg 108]medical aid could be procured. Part of the arsenal, in the most protected spot, had been cleared to be turned into a hospital, but naturally there were no beds and no sufficient medicaments; bandages, &c., were sadly wanting, the demand having been much greater than could at first have been anticipated.

Partly by signals of distress, consisting of coloured lights at night, and by means of a messenger who managed to reach Tientsin, reinforcements were asked for to relieve the distressed expedition.

On June 25, after another reposeful night, the Germans shelled the enemy’s position with one of the newly acquired 8.7 centimetre guns. Soon after 7 o’clock, two thousand Chinese were seen to advance along the line, but did not attempt an attack on the fort. On the contrary, they seemed to be retreating in good order before an approaching enemy. In fact, foreign troops were sighted at 7.40, and in the Wuku fort every heart bounded with joy as the news spread like wildfire that relief was at hand.

An hour or so later the two forces joined, amid the frantic hurrahs of relievers and relieved.

The Relief column was commanded by one of the bravest of Russian officers—every inch a hero—Lieutenant-Colonel Shirinsky, and consisted of four Russian companies and an equal number of marines and soldiers of other nationalities, including three companies of Welsh Fusiliers.

This force, which liberated Seymour and his magnificent men, had started in the middle of the night on receiving the messages of distress. They entered the Wuku fort at 9.30 A.M.

The day was taken up in removing the wounded across the Pei-ho, disabling the guns that could not be carried [Pg 109]away, smashing rifles, and destroying by fire the several buildings in the fort, with the stores and ammunition therein accumulated.

It was deemed advisable to camp on the opposite bank of the stream, and proceed to Tientsin early the next morning. The evening, comparatively speaking, was a joyous one, and soldiers and sailors of all nations chummed together in a most friendly way. If such brotherly feelings could be maintained between soldiers of the various great Powers, the long-wished-for ideal—the peace of the world—would doubtless be assured for ever.

The combined force, conveying the wounded, moved at sunrise of the 26th towards Tientsin, where they arrived the same morning before noon. Sir Edward Seymour and his brave men, whose fate had caused no small anxiety to the foreign residents, were, as well as their liberators, frantically greeted on entering the Tientsin settlement in safety; but the enthusiasm changed into gloom and sadness at the sight of the appalling number of wounded—238 in all—who were being carried into the town.

Killed: British, 27; American, 4; French, 1; German, 12; Italian, 5; Japanese, 2; Austrian, 1; Russian, 10.

Wounded: British, 97; American, 25; French, 10; German, 62; Italian, 3; Japanese, 3; Austrian, 1; Russian, 27; or in all 62 killed and 238 wounded.

I asked several officers and men of all nations, who were with Seymour, what was their opinion of the Commander-in-Chief on that unfortunate expedition. I never found one man who was not proud to have served under him. Whether Russian, French, Italian, German, or British, they all spoke [Pg 110]with admiration and almost veneration of the Admiral, whose courage, astounding coolness in moments of danger, perspicacity, and kindly manner towards his subordinates, made him esteemed and revered by one and all alike who had the privilege of serving and fighting under him. From first to last he enjoyed the absolute confidence of all his officers and men. No better compliment could be paid him.

On the other hand, the following note which he wrote to the men of the ill-fated expedition shows his personal feelings towards them:—

Developments at Taku and Tientsin—A strong Chinese force advancing on Taku—A council of Admirals convened on board the Rossia—Mines and torpedoes laid at the mouth of the Pei-ho—A defensive attitude to be adopted by the Allies—The Taku forts the key of the position—Japanese to guard the railway station—A second council on the Rossia—Prince Tuan—Chinese friendliness regarded with distrust by naval commanders—Remonstrances—The Governor of Chili commanded to hand over the Taku and Tongku forts—Chinese refusal—Plans for an attack—Big ships of the Allies—Gunboats up-stream—Mines laid across the bar—The U.S.S. Monocacy.

While the Seymour expedition was being checked up country in their attempt to reach Pekin, other important developments were taking place, both at the mouth of the river Pei-ho and in Tientsin.

A force of Chinese Imperial troops, about 2000 strong, was advancing on the Taku forts, and it was reported that Imperial troops were concentrating in the neighbourhood of this stronghold of the Chinese, evidently with the object of offering a stout resistance to the landing of any more Europeans—a resistance which, if successful, would place foreigners in Pekin and Tientsin in a very precarious position. In view of the serious events of the murder of the Japanese Chancellor of Legation, and of the appointment [Pg 113]of Prince Tuan, the leader of the Boxers, as Commander-in-chief of the Chinese troops in China, and of three other Manchus, equally strong in their anti-foreign views as Ministers of the Yamên, a council was convened (on June 15) by the Senior Naval Officer, Vice-Admiral Hildebrant, on board the first-class cruiser Rossia, to consider the situation.

Evidence was produced at this council, not only that the Chinese were preparing for a hostile demonstration towards the Allies, but also that they were already attempting to destroy the railway between Tientsin and Taku, and had been observed to lay torpedoes and mines at the mouth of the Pei-ho. It was resolved that in order to preserve communication with Tientsin, prompt steps must be taken to safeguard the railway and to protect Europeans in the settlement. It was further resolved that a strictly defensive attitude must be adopted by the Allies in carrying out the above resolution, and that they should refrain to the last from taking the offensive, unless absolutely compelled to do so by an attack on the part of the Chinese, in which contingency an endeavour would be made to seize the forts, and render the enemy incapable of inflicting any damage upon our ships.

The Taku forts were the key of the position, if hostilities should break out in North China.

It was also decided that 300 Japanese marines should be at once conveyed to Tong-ku, to guard the railway station.

Matters were getting worse every moment, and another council on board the Rossia was summoned the following morning (the 16th) at eleven o’clock. It was fully demonstrated that, as far as words went, the Chinese Government [Pg 114]gave ample assurance that order and law should be maintained in the country, and the lives of foreigners and their property protected; but that when it came to facts foreigners were murdered in various parts of the country and their houses looted and burned. Even foreign officials in the capital itself were actually assassinated by soldiers of the Imperial army, while chapels, churches, mission-houses, and the property of Europeans had been or were in danger of being destroyed, even in Tientsin.

The Chinese Government had nominally raised no objection to the co-operation of foreign Powers in suppressing the Boxer movement, but, practically, every help and assistance in the shape of arms, ammunition, food, and clothes were given to the supposed rebels.

The very fact that the principal supporter of the Boxers, Prince Tuan, and three other anti-foreign Manchus, had now been placed at the head of affairs was significant enough, and quite justified the distrust with which the [Pg 115]Naval Commanders regarded the ostensibly friendly dealings of the Chinese.

No doubt upon this point could be left in the minds of the Allies when Imperial soldiers were observed laying torpedoes to obstruct the mouth of the river. Remonstrances were made, with no result. No alternative was left to the Admirals but to request the Governor of Chili and General Lo Yung Kwang, who commanded the Taku and Tong-ku forts, to hand over the stronghold to the Allies. Owing to the warlike preparations of the Chinese, only a limited time was allowed the Chinese General to evacuate the forts, and he was warned that, failing his compliance with their request by 2 A.M. the next day (the 17th), the Allies would make a combined attack on his position.

Some officers, accompanied by a skilful interpreter, called on the Chinese General and fully explained to him how matters stood, but the Chinese held fast and refused to evacuate the forts. In the meantime thousands of soldiers coming from Shan-hai Kuan were seen entering the forts.

A council was held on board the Russian gunboat Bobr, at which the plans for an attack on the forts were carefully studied, and that same afternoon (the 16th), at three o’clock parties from the various ships were landed, in order to storm the forts from the land if necessary.

There were 350 British bluejackets and marines under Commander Cradock, of the Alacrity; 150 Russian soldiers of the Siberian and Orient Regiments; 130 German sailors, commanded by Captain Pohl; 50 Austrian sailors; 25 Italian sailors, commanded by Lieutenant Tanca; and 230 Japanese sailors, led by Captain Hattori.

The big ships of the Allies were some miles outside the [Pg 116]Taku bar, while H.M.S. Algerine, Fame, and Whiting (the Algerine flying the Admiral’s flag), had previously proceeded up the river and taken up a position off the North fort.

The two Russian gunboats, Bobr and Giliak, were near the dockyard in the bend of the river, and the German gunboat, Iltis, the French gunboat, Lion, and a Japanese gunboat were at Tong-ku.

These six gunboats had gone up-stream and had landed a party of Russians and Germans on the south bank of the river, while a party of British and Japanese had been landed on the opposite bank. Four Chinese torpedo-destroyers (built in Germany) were lying alongside the Taku government dockyard.

All these gunboats had steamed up the river in the morning and afternoon of the 16th, a curious incident taking place before they were despatched to their destination.

A number of junks came from the Taku fort and unconcernedly laid mines across the bar. The Whiting (a twin screw torpedo-destroyer of 360 tons), in fact, in getting over the bar, touched one of these mines, which, however, did not explode.

There was no disguising the fact that the Chinese were preparing for a fight, so at 6 in the afternoon the residents [Pg 117]and refugees in Taku and Tong-ku received orders that within one hour they must embark for safety on the U.S.S. Monocacy. She was lying, well sheltered, near the coal-heaps of the railway wharf, and probably the forts would be bombarded during the night. The position of this old, rickety, paddle-wheel, wooden American gunboat was considered quite safe, and she could not be struck, in a direct line, from any of the Chinese positions—at least, so everybody believed.

Shifting the moorings—The Koreetz suffers heavily—Commander Wise—A position of absolute safety—The Whiting and Fame capture four Chinese torpedo-destroyers and convey them to Tongku—A 5-inch shell—Gunboats fare badly—The United States at peace with China—Admiral Kempff refuses to join in the attack of forts—A strange coincidence.

After dark, the several gunboats up river, except the Russian, took the precaution of shifting their moorings. At 10 P.M. the Algerine, Fame, and Whiting steamed up the river to just below the Russian gunboat. This was fortunate, for at a quarter to 1 A.M. of the 17th, the forts having during the day carefully trained their guns on the gunboats up river, opened a terrific fire on their presumed positions, the only boat suffering heavily being the Russian Koreetz, which had disregarded the precaution taken by the others. She received the full fire of one of the Chinese batteries at a range of 400 yards, and in the bombardment her crew lost sixteen killed—including four officers—and forty-five wounded.

On the bridge of the Monocacy stood her Commander, Wise, cheering and encouraging the women and children swarming the decks, and who all the same felt some apprehension at the hissing and bursting of shells—fortunately high over head. He and his officers reassured [Pg 119]the refugees and convinced them that the ship lay in a position of absolute safety, when, much to everybody’s surprise, and for some unaccountable reason, she was hit by a shell that cut right through her bows.

The Whiting and Fame, at the beginning of the engagement, steamed down to the Taku dockyard, each towing down a whaler with ten men. The French Lion and the German Iltis also went down the river to support the other gunboats and the Algerine. The Whiting and Fame did very smart work, and captured the four Chinese torpedo-destroyers. The Chinese crews made a weak-hearted sort of defence, firing a few pistol and rifle shots while bolting on to the wharf and running for their lives. Once under cover in the dockyard, and supported by soldiers, they opened a rapid fire on the British crews of conquering and conquered vessels. A few shots from the destroyer’s guns put a stop to the annoyance.

The Whiting and Fame conveyed the captured destroyers to Tong-ku, and it was there that the Whiting was badly hit by a 5-inch shell, which penetrated her coal-bunker and did considerable damage to No. 4 boiler and tubes. The damage, nevertheless, did not prevent her steaming [Pg 120]up river, to shell the forts, and protect with her quick-firing guns—of which she had six—a steamer with provisions bound for Tientsin.

The other gunboats of the Allies also fared badly. The Iltis was struck by eight shells. Her Commander, Lanz, lost one leg. One officer and six men were killed, nine wounded. The Lion was struck once and set on fire. She had one man killed and forty-six wounded. The Giliak was hit four times, once below the water-mark, and had to be run aground; eight men were killed, including two officers, and forty-six wounded. The Koreetz received five shells, one of which set her on fire, and had five killed and twenty-one wounded. The Bobr had one man wounded. The Japanese Atago did not take part in the fighting as she was laden with ammunition and provision for the Allies, while the Kagero, also flying the flag with the Rising Sun, steamed round (outside the bar) and kept a sharp watch upon the Chinese second-class cruiser Hai-yuen, flying the Admiral’s flag. The Chinese cruiser, however, showed no inclination nor desire to participate in the hostilities. She was detained by the Allies.

The U.S.S. Monocacy took no part in the fighting, nor did the Americans take any active part in the attack on the forts. Rear-Admiral Kempff, of the U.S. Navy, informed Rear-Admiral Bruce that he was not authorised to initiate any act of war with a country with whom his country was at peace; both by regulations and under recent instructions from both the department and from the Commander-in-Chief of the U.S. Naval force on the Asiatic station, he was confined to protecting American interests.

Consulted by officers of the Allies regarding the decision to hold the railway station at Tong-ku (in order to keep [Pg 123]open the communication with Tientsin), in case any Chinese Government force acted against the force of any foreign nation, so that all should be involved and act unitedly; Admiral Kempff refused to agree to it without special authority, as the railway was under Chinese Government control. The Admiral would therefore not join in the attack on the forts. Commander Wise, of the Monocacy, had orders to protect American interests, based upon department orders, but he was to consider any attack by the Chinese Government forces as a declaration of war, and act accordingly.

Although Commander Wise attended the council meeting on the 16th, on the Bobr, he did not sign the protocol and ultimatum to the Chinese Commandant of the forts and to the Viceroy of Tientsin, therefore the Monocacy was left out of the plans and places for vessels of the attacking forces.

Curiously enough, although well out of the line of fire, between the forts and attacking vessels, the American ship was almost the first to be hit by a Chinese shell! Commander Wise, in his official report, attributes the passing of shells near him, or bursting about or beyond, to “wild firing by the forts.” Possibly the Monocacy was hit for the same reason.

A fierce cannonade—The range—Chinese magazine blown up—The storming party—Advance in parallel columns—Skirmishing order—Smartness of the Japanese—The gallant Captain Hattori killed—A pathetic incident—The first to enter—The north-west fort—The capture of the north fort—The British flag first—The South Forts holding out—Every fort in the hands of the Allies—The Russian flag—The humours of war.

A fierce cannonade was kept up on both sides, the gunboats having moved during the bombardment to the bend of the river, which was considered the best position from which to shell the forts. The ranges at which the gunboats fired were from four hundred yards to two and a half miles, according to the positions occupied during the bombardment. The firing continued without intermission till half-past four, when there was a terrific explosion, by which even the most distant of the ships was shaken and sent rattling. A shell had blown up one of the Chinese magazines.

It had been pre-arranged that shortly before daybreak the storming party was to meet on the river bank opposite the Algerine at the last bend of the river. A further number of men were landed from several ships, and at dawn the force was ready and comprised 200 Russians and Austrians, forming [Pg 125]the advance, 380 British and Italians, the main body, and 300 Japanese the reserve and support in the rear.

The advance was in the first instance begun in parallel columns, but the Chinese fire was well directed, and so hot, that it became impracticable to proceed in that formation. Skirmishing order was then adopted.

Towards dawn the guns of the North-West Fort were sufficiently silenced to permit the approach of a storming party. The British and Italians fought side by side, leading the attack, and supported by contingents from other nations; but it appears that this advance was somewhat impeded by the heavy ground.

The Russians, who were under the heavy fire of the Chinese, progressed slowly. The Japanese, occupying the rear, now came up with two field pieces, and joined in the final charge, Captain Hattori leading his men with remarkable bravery. Indeed, the little fellows were now at the head of the attacking force, having come up by the road giving access to the fort instead of by the swampy ground. The Chinese were still holding on with great tenacity, and keeping up a heavy fusillade. A bayonet charge was necessary to drive them out of their position. Captain Hattori, at the head of his men, rushed the fort, followed by the British and Italians. Captain Hattori himself, a most gallant officer, was shot dead when only a few yards from the parapet; but Lieutenant Shiraishi, a young man of equal pluck and determination, took immediate command, and led the men on.

The Chinese were driven off. A pathetic incident took place. A Japanese sailor had climbed to the top of a flagstaff to put up the flag of the Rising Sun, when, unluckily, a Chinese bullet brought him down and killed him. Had it not been for this mishap, the Japanese flag would have been [Pg 126]the first to fly on the fort; as it was, the British was hoisted immediately by the single halyard of the flagstaff.

There can be no doubt, however, that the Japanese, immediately followed by the British and Italians, were the first to enter the fort, and sufficient praise cannot be given them for their bravery and military skill.

The North-West Fort was now used by the Allies against the North and South Forts, the Japanese remaining in charge of it, while the British and Italians, under heavy shell fire, proceeded to capture the North Fort. The Germans took part in this attack, and occupied the right of the advance, while the British, Italians, and Austrians were on the left, the British leading. The two parties charged simultaneously, and carried the fort. The British flag was hoisted first.

There now remained the forts on the south side of the river, which were still holding out with determination, and the most northern of these South Forts, directly at the mouth of the river, was the next point of attack. The captured Chinese guns in the North Fort (on the north side of the river) were immediately trained by the British and Austrians on the Chinese position opposite. The shelling from this fort, combined with that of the gunboats in the river, seemed to have a discouraging effect on the Chinese officers and soldiers, who had so far manned their guns with extraordinary ability and coolness. In the forts already in possession of the Allies a great number of Chinese soldiers had been found killed round the guns, others having evidently immediately taken the places of such gunners as were killed. The well-directed shells of the gunboats did great execution upon the garrisons—armless, legless, and headless bodies being found everywhere in the forts. Under such appalling fire from the Allies, there remained nothing for the Chinese to [Pg 127]do but run. Their big guns were soon silenced by those of the British, Germans, and Japanese.

At the appointed time the gunboats came up to ferry the various attacking contingents across the Pei-ho. Unfortunately, the Germans stuck in mid-stream, but the British and Italians crossed over and charged the forts, the British marines leading. A gun was worked upon the retreating enemy, who were now utterly demoralised.

The flag of Great Britain, with that of Italy, flew gaily over these forts too, and by 6.30 A.M. the stronghold of China, “the impregnable Taku forts,” was in the hands of the Allies, after a fight of five hours and three-quarters.

When the forts had all been captured it was decided that, to avoid confusion, the Japanese should hold the North Fort by themselves, while the British and Italians should occupy the North-West Fort, and the Russians and Germans the extensive South Forts. The Russian flag was flying with the German on the South Forts, and in the Navy Yard and Docks.

War is not without its humorous side. A party of Russians and Germans had landed on the south side on a reconnaissance. The Germans, on foot, were left to guard a bridge, while the Russians, on horseback, continued their reconnoitring expedition. The Germans waited for some hours, faithfully holding the bridge, but, not perceiving the Russians, concluded that they were not coming back, so duly proceeded to blow up the bridge previous to retiring.

During the night, the Russians, overwhelmed by a superior force of Chinese, fell back on the bridge—or rather on its absence—and had to swim with their horses across the stream under the pelting bullets of the Chinese.

“Why the deuce did you destroy the bridge?” was the angry query put by the Russian to the German officer when he next met him.

“Why not?” calmly replied the German. “I thought that you Russians all knew how to swim.”

It all ended in a hearty laugh, and no one seemed any the worse for a good ducking.

The Russian casualties during the attack were probably heavier than those of any other nation—eighteen killed and forty wounded. The Japanese reported five killed and four wounded, out of a contingent of one hundred men more than the Russians. Captain Hattori, as we have seen, was among the slain.

The Allies lost that night forty-six killed in all—six of whom were officers—and had one hundred and seventy wounded.

Captain Stewart of the Algerine—Lieutenant-Commanders McKenzie and Keyes—Commander Lanz of the Iltis—German shells for German ships—Excellent practice of Chinese gunners—Inside the forts—A characteristic letter—The journey by water from Taku to Tientsin—At Tong-ku—Cossacks—Columns of black smoke.

The behaviour of Captain Stewart, of the Algerine, and Lieutenant-Commanders McKenzie and Keyes, all three of the British Navy, was magnificent, and elicited admiration from all sides.

Commander Lanz, too, of the German gunboat Iltis, behaved heroically at the attack, receiving a severe wound in the leg, and twenty-five other small wounds from splinters of shell and wood. The Iltis herself, a gunboat of 900 tons, was hit by seventeen shells and one shrapnel. It was evident, from the number of shots which struck her funnel, that the Chinese were striving hard to send a shell through her boilers. This they also tried to do with other gunboats, as we have seen in the case of the Whiting. Curiously enough, according to an interview with Captain Lanz, published in Japan, it appears that all the shells that hit the Iltis had been made in Germany, and were fired from Krupp guns, of course of German manufacture.

The Chinese soldiers made excellent practice with their guns, especially at the beginning of the fight, and their rifle fire was also accurate, until the Allies got to close quarters. Possibly they had previously measured the distances along the river, a course which greatly helped them in obtaining the accurate range.

The outward appearance of the forts was not much changed by the battle, for the effect of the shells on the earthworks could not be distinguished except on close inspection. On entering the forts, the case was somewhat different; the various buildings, sheds, cannon—everything was wrecked and smashed, and every place was filled by the mutilated bodies of men and horses, gashed in a fearful manner. Rifles, spears, swords and drums, and thousands of cartridges, full and empty, lay about on the ground. The dead bodies were invariably found thickest near the big guns.

The effect of the shelling from the gunboats was appalling. Although the forts fell in a few hours, the officers present in the fight were unanimous in their praise of the unexpected way in which the Chinese had defended themselves.

It is only fair to publish part of the official report written by Commander Wise, of the Monocacy, to the United States Admiral Kempff.

The letter is perhaps somewhat vague in its construction, and thoroughly characteristic in its American save-time style. It is pleasant to notice that, whatever the orders from their Government in the matter of co-operating in the engagement at Taku, the feelings of the United States officers themselves on the gunboat did not differ from those of all the other officers of the Allies.

The journey by water from Taku to Tientsin was safe enough, except that the people along the banks were continually sniping at the tugs, and that on nearing Tientsin [Pg 132]occasional shells burst on board. On one occasion a shell burst in the stomach of a poor bluejacket, who was peacefully talking to a friend, with the result that, when the smoke vanished, there was not much left of the stomach nor of the friend.

The steam tugs plying between the two places were furnished with a Maxim or a Colt automatic gun, which was freely used on the Chinamen when any came in sight.

The trip up the Pei-ho was at no time a pleasant one between the uninteresting, flat, muddy banks, of something in colour between a ghastly raw sienna and a dirty grey. To the lack of beauty in the scenery was now added the profusion of dead bodies, swollen to double their normal proportions, and in a state of advanced decomposition, which were floating down the river or had stuck in the mud close to the banks. Dogs were tearing away at them, fighting among themselves over the human meal. It was not a pretty sight, and made some people quite sick.

At Tong-ku itself, the Pei-ho was alive with craft of all kinds—gunboats, torpedo-boats, tugs, confiscated lighters and junks—while the banks of the river swarmed with soldiers and sailors of all nations. The Japanese, the British and Americans presented a very smart and business-like appearance, the little fellows of Nippon being fitted out in the most perfect manner. The Russians had landed in great numbers. One could not help being struck at first sight by the excellent condition of these extraordinarily sturdy men. Both officers and men impressed one as being fellows with whom it would be preferable to be at peace rather than at war, but in good manners and politeness, too, they were second to none.

All the way up to Tientsin one saw squads of Cossacks [Pg 133]riding their ponies with characteristic long-stirruped saddles, and they seemed to take special delight in setting villages on fire, especially when the Chinese deserved it, as in one particular case which came under my observation.

The Chinese, who were being kindly treated, were cowardly enough to murder two Russian officers who were purchasing food from them, and whose bodies they afterwards mutilated. A party of Cossacks was sent out at once to raze the village to the ground, a proceeding which cannot fairly be blamed. The Russian knows only too well that diplomatic representations to the Chinese are mere nonsense, as indeed is the case with regard to almost all Asiatics. Force and fear are the only things that count.

As we steamed up the river, high columns of black smoke rose everywhere, on the right bank of the stream especially, whole villages flaring up, set in flames by the Chinese or the Allies. It was a sight of heartbreaking desolation, yet it was nothing to the spectacle that lay before us when we reached Tientsin settlement.

What a sight! Houses destroyed by fire, others still burning, others again in ruins. Walls and roofs pierced by shells; doors and windows shattered; every street along the Bund and the Bund itself barricaded with sand-bags, bales of cotton and wool, and furniture piled up high to serve as cover.

There was no Chinese coolie to help one on with one’s luggage on landing, and the new-comers, while struggling to land their heavy baggage, had the additional excitement of being sniped at by Chinese from the other side of the stream. I do not think the Chinese were ever known to hit anybody in the course of this particular amusement of theirs.

The walled native city and the foreign concessions—The railway station—The mud wall or “Sankolin’s Folly”—Detring and Dickinson’s house’s and the racecourse—The North Fort—The East Arsenal and the Military College—Mounds of salt—The Viceroy’s Yamên—The West Arsenal—The Hsiku “or Siku” Arsenal—Landmarks—The Gordon Hall—The arrival of Russians—A failed attempt to communicate with Seymour—The native city in the hands of Boxers—A threatening moment.

A short description of the place, and of the position of its various parts which will be referred to in the narrative, may help the reader to understand what occurred.

The walled native city was of a rectangular shape, the sides of the rectangle running respectively from north to south and east to west. The Foreign Settlements and Concessions were about two miles south-east of the native city, and consisted of a large French Concession along the south bank of the Pei-ho River, with the British Settlement south-east of it, still along the west of the river, and the Extra British Concession south of the French Settlement.

To the east and north, on the opposite side of the stream, were a number of native houses and some large and important [Pg 137]buildings. Principal of all was the Railway Station, with its commodious engine-house and workshops.

There was an almost continuous succession of native houses between the native city and the Foreign Settlements, especially on the south-east and nearer the river; while on the west there was much open ground and large patches of water, even within the famous mud wall, or Sankolin’s Folly, which in an irregular fashion surrounded the native city, all the Settlements, the Railway Station, the North Fort, and also a long stretch of the Pei-ho River, with the Grand Canal stretching west and the Lutai Canal to the east of the Pei-ho.

This mud wall, about 10 feet high, 10 feet broad on the top, and 30 at the base, was built by the Chinese to protect the city and Settlements during the time of the Tae-ping rebellion. As will be seen by the adjoining sketch-map, the mud wall at its nearest point was only a few yards from the Settlements, and on that side extended almost in a straight line, the direction of which was roughly north-west. The American Consulate, almost the last house in the Extra British Concession, was situated only about 350 yards from the wall, where the naval guns were subsequently mounted for the defence of the Settlement.

Messrs. Detring and Dickinson’s houses, as well as the Racecourse itself—which will often be mentioned at the beginning of the siege—were outside the mud wall.

The North Fort, built by Li-hung-chang, was outside the native city, on the north bank of the Pei-ho, near its junction with the Grand Canal, and the next fort still further north, at the point where the Pei-ho feeds the Lutai Canal. The East Arsenal was two miles outside the mud wall, and the [Pg 138]Military College was also immediately beyond the wall, to the south of the Foreign Settlements.

One of the most curious features of Tientsin was furnished by the huge mounds of salt along the water, which were under the control of the Salt Commissioner, and were used with much success by the Chinese as cover.

Near the North Fort, directly outside the city, but separated from it by the canal, was the Viceroy’s Yamên, reached by a quaint bridge, like those familiar to us on china plates.

The West Arsenal, or Joss-House Arsenal, lay west of the Settlement, and due south of the native city. Between the Arsenal and the city were a great number of Chinese graves and earth mounds, of which the Chinese took advantage, digging trenches in addition for further protection; and the extensive graveyards north of the Railway Station, on the opposite side of the stream, were used by them in the same way.

The Hsiku Arsenal, partly destroyed, as we have seen, by Admiral Seymour, was north of the city, and some distance outside Sankolin’s Wall.

To the south and west of the Settlement were large tracts of comparatively open country. I say comparatively, for there were Chinese houses scattered here and there, and a few miserable villages, which afforded good shelter.

The gasometer, the Water-Tower, and the Cathedral were landmarks to the visitor in Tientsin, as well as to the Chinese artillerymen; and in the Settlement itself, on the Victoria Road, one could not help being impressed with the massiveness—if not the beauty—of the Gordon Hall, erected in memory of the great and beloved General. It was the tallest building in Tientsin, and, like the gasometer and the church, made, as we shall see, a capital target for the Chinese guns.

The streets in the British Settlement ran at right angles across the Victoria Road, the course of which was parallel to the Bund along the Pei-ho.

Let us now go back a few days, to see what took place in Tientsin while the Seymour Relief Expedition was fighting up country, and the Taku Forts were being captured by the combined forces of the Allies.

On June 11, 12, and 13, everything was quiet enough in Tientsin. The tug Pennace arrived with two Maxims, and on the 14th a guard with these two guns was placed on Temperance Hall. Seventeen hundred Russians with field guns came up by train the same day, and a patrol train was run to Tongku and back by the Russians to safeguard the railway line.

An attempt, which failed, was made to communicate with Admiral Seymour, and great concern was felt at the serious turn matters were taking. A rumour was current in [Pg 140]Tientsin that the Empress had ordered the Legations in Pekin to be burned on the 16th, and the inmates to be massacred.

It was not, however, till Friday, the 15th, that things became lively. The native city was practically in the hands of the Boxers, who were destroying chapels and killing Christians, while the Government was causing additional alarm by concentrating large numbers of Imperial troops near Tientsin and Taku.

The Russians, who were to join Seymour, were requested, since the moment was so threatening, to remain in Tientsin to protect the Settlement. It was lucky that they did so.

An interesting letter—Mormon habits—Chinese prophecies—Proffered hospitality declined—An armed train to proceed to Yangtsun—Shelling of the Settlement by the Chinese—The enemy repulsed—Attack on the Military College—A gratifying despatch.

At 3.30 A.M. the alarm was given, and what happened afterwards is told in the quaint and interesting letter here appended, written by a Chinaman who had apparently been educated in Europe or America. His education had evidently not included the suppression of Mormon customs.

The letter was found lying on the floor of a deserted house, and had not been posted:

Our Mormon Chinese friend was not absolutely right in his prophecies, although quite correct in his account of past events. Perhaps he purposely understated the truth so as to avoid unnecessarily alarming his unspecified wife.

As we have already seen, Mr. Carles, the British Consul in Tientsin, had cabled to Lord Salisbury that the Viceroy’s conduct had been very correct, and much telegraphing took place from London to offer shelter on board a British man-of-war to the Viceroy in token of gratitude, if he deemed his life in danger. Whether of his own will or by compulsion, he abstained from accepting the proffered hospitality.

On the 17th, at six o’clock, an armed train with a repairing party, unaware of Seymour’s plight, proceeded towards Yangtsun in order to repair the line. They were first engaged by the Boxers, then fired upon by Imperial troops, and eventually had to beat a retreat. In the afternoon, at three o’clock, began the shelling of the Settlement by the Chinese, who did considerable damage.

Attacks were made from different points, but the enemy was repulsed. It may be noted that in the morning of the [Pg 144]same day (at 2 A.M.) the Taku and Tongku forts had been taken by the Allies.

An attack on the Military College was successfully carried out by 175 men (British, Germans, Italians, and Austrians), who made short work of the defenders, and destroyed the premises, with its rich store of ammunition, rifles, and guns.

It is most gratifying to find in Mr. Carles’ despatch to Lord Salisbury of June 21 the following passage:

“The behaviour of the Russians, who were throughout the day engaged in various quarters, was splendid, and their large force and heavy field guns, of which they had four, saved the situation. During the day (June 17) all (nationalities) were engaged on their respective sections. The following is the list of casualties: Russians, 7 killed, 5 [Pg 145]wounded; British, 1 killed, 5 wounded; Italians, 2 wounded; Germans, 1 killed.”

In the evening the Chinese made another bold but unsuccessful attack, with the object of seizing the pontoon bridge leading to the station. They lost heavily. One of their Generals was reported killed in this engagement.

A heavy attack on the Station—Chinese daring—A joint movement of British and Russians—A gallant attempt to seize two Chinese guns—Captain Beattie’s bravery—To the relief of Tientsin—A stubborn resistance—Held in check—Mutilated Americans—Casualties—Tientsin relieved—The force landed—Unfounded statements—At Taku—Captain Warrender and the transport arrangements—A protocol on board the Rossia—Captain Wise in control at Tongku—Captain Bayly in command in Tientsin—The Admirals and the Shanghai Consuls.

Another armed train was being got ready to start on the 18th, with 600 Russians and one 6-pounder. There was a heavy attack upon the Station, which was held by the Russians, and it was not till 3 P.M. that an advance from it was possible. The Chinese, who were eventually driven back, had showed great daring, forcing their way under the trucks, and holding their own with surprising tenacity. The French took part in this operation, but were at first unable to cope with the enemy, and had to retire till reinforced.

In the forenoon of Tuesday, the 19th, the British went across the river in a joint movement with the Russians.

Captain Beattie of the Barfleur and 200 bluejackets made a gallant attempt to seize two Chinese guns which had been [Pg 147]placed at the two white houses, where the mud wall is crossed by the railway to Tongku. These guns did no end of damage to the Settlement. The British, with their plucky leader, got ahead of the Russians, and reached within a short distance of the Chinese guns, when they were met by a most appalling cross-fire which forced them to retire; but on the arrival of reinforcements the position was triumphantly carried, and the enemy with their guns driven back.

Captain Beattie, although twice wounded, continued with great bravery to lead his men to the last, but the day cost the British five officers and thirteen men wounded. Among them, besides Captain Beattie, were Lieutenant Sterling, Midshipman Donaldson (since dead), Lieutenant Wright of the Orlando, and Lieutenant Powell.

On the 20th the Chinese amused themselves by throwing shells into the Settlement and sniping across the river. Their firing was unpleasantly accurate.

While the Settlement was intermittently shelled, several [Pg 148]large detachments left Taku, on the 22nd, to relieve Tientsin. They pushed on by rail as far as possible, nearly half-way, and then marched on foot, the British and Americans on the right, the Russians and Germans to the left.

On nearing Tientsin they met with a stubborn resistance from the Chinese, and the Russians and Germans, who tried to force their way with great determination, lost heavily. One company alone had ten killed and twenty wounded, including Lieutenant Friedrich. The Allies were held in check the whole night, being exposed to a well-directed fire from the yet uncaptured arsenal, north-east of the Settlement.

Two Americans who were killed were shockingly mutilated by the Chinese, and an American gun was captured. In a future chapter will be seen how the Chinese soldiers were specially rewarded for this by the Viceroy of Tientsin.

The killed and wounded of the Allies amounted to 224. Whether because the Chinese had concentrated their forces on the east in order to impede the advance of a relieving force, or for some other reason, the Settlement was fairly quiet on the 23rd. There was practically no shelling, and very little sniping.

The British contingent, 570 strong, consisted of bluejackets and marines, under Commander Cradock, and Royal Welsh Fusiliers, under Major F. Morris. Seventy men were sent in two companies to occupy the Chinese College, but on arriving there found it in flames, and the force returned to barracks. This event practically marked the relief of Tientsin Foreign Settlement, but the Chinese troops and Boxers remained in possession of their walled native city and [Pg 149]forts, whence they continued to shell the European Concessions.

The force which had been landed was: Americans, 335; Austrians, 26; British, 570; French, 421; Germans, 1340; Italians, 138; Japanese Naval Brigade, 602; troops, 1050; Russian Naval Brigade, 235, troops, 3500. Two thousand one hundred more Japanese and one French battalion of infantry, with one battery of artillery, were expected to arrive at Taku on the 25th and 26th.

The Russians had previously to this landed about 4000 men in all, and Germany 1300.

It is a great satisfaction to be able to denounce as unfounded the statements constantly circulated that friction and jealousy were rampant among the various Admirals and Commanders of the Allies. There existed absolutely nothing of the kind, the Allied Admirals working in most perfect accord, as officially reported to the Admiralty by Rear-Admiral Bruce on June 23. The Russian Vice-Admiral was Senior Officer, and the council of Admirals had control over all the operations.

On land at Taku, a Russian Major-General, with a German second in command, and Captain Warrender, of H.M.S. Barfleur, were in charge of the operations from Taku for the relief of Tientsin. The general control of the operations was entrusted to a Russian Major-General, while the mail and telegraph were organised by J. E. Sainsbury, of the U.S.S. Monocacy.

Captain Warrender was subsequently entrusted—and no [Pg 150]better man could have been selected—with all the transport arrangements by river from Taku. In this he was assisted by William F. Cullman, assistant-paymaster of the Terrible.

At a meeting of all the Admirals on board the Imperial cruiser Rossia, a protocol was signed, under the presidency of the Senior Vice-Admiral Hildebrant, by which:

In case of attack it was stipulated that the forces present at Taku should support one another, and all should be under the orders of Admiral Wesselago.

Pilot Webster was to be paid the sum of 200 dollars a day and expenses for his services, which were found indispensable to vessels crossing the bar and others moving up river.

The protocol was signed by the following Admirals and Vice-Admirals:—J. Hildebrant, Bendeman, H. Togo, Cour Jolles, Kempff, James Bruce, C. Casella.

In Tientsin, Captain Bayly, of the Aurora, was the Commander of the defence of the Settlement, assisted by Captain Burke, of the Orlando.

The doyen of the Consuls in Shanghai had wired to the Admirals to send down at least four men-of-war for the protection of foreigners. The British Admiral, at a meeting, remarked that the presence of five Chinese cruisers did not [Pg 151]naturally mean that a warlike demonstration was intended there any more than at Chefoo, where Chinese men-of-war were peaceably moored.

The Admirals then decided that it was not possible to satisfy the wish of the Shanghai Consuls. Each Admiral undertook, however, to write to the Consul of his own country the following comforting letter, which, to the minds of these plucky sailors, was no doubt calculated to quiet all apprehension, if any existed:—

“We will send some ships when we can. In the meantime take all possible precautions, so that if danger arises your families and yourselves may not be taken by surprise.”⁠[7]⁠

The assurances of the Viceroys and Governors of the Southern Provinces—A memorial—Denouncing the Boxers—In the interest of the Empire—Stringent measures needed—On the verge of a great calamity—Worried and alarmed.

More reassuring to the Consuls and the foreign community than the message of the Admirals must have been the assurances given by the Viceroys and Governors of the southern provinces, as well as the Imperial High Commissioner of the Yangtze valley, in the following memorial wired by them to the Throne⁠[8] on June 22. It is significant that Li-hung-chang’s name does not appear among the memorialists.

The memorialists are Li Pingheng, High Commissioner of the Yangtze; Liu Kunyi, Viceroy of the Liang Kiang; Chang Chih-tung, Viceroy of the Liang Hu; Lu Chuanlin, Governor of Kiangsu; Wang Chihchun, Governor of Anhui; Sung Shou, Governor of Kiangsi; Yu Yin-liu, Governor of Hupeh; and Yu Liensan, Governor of Hunan.

“Telegrams from various countries show that the cruel massacres committed by the Boxers will surely call down vengeance upon China. If they are not quickly put down the Powers will certainly be angry. Advices from Japan show that if this is done quickly there is still time. We are [Pg 153]deeply grieved at the reports that the capital is in danger. The Boxers, under the pretence of exercising magic, are inciting the people to join them in rebelling against the Government. In reality their claims are nonsense, as it is impossible to resist firearms. Practices of this sort were forbidden in the thirteenth year of the reign of the Emperor Kia-Ching [1796–1809]. Then, if these men were really patriotic people of Chihli, how is it that their leader, Li Laichung, is a native of Shensi? This proves that they are but seditious people, and that they ought to be suppressed. They have disobeyed the Imperial orders to disperse, and have instead murdered Chinese and foreigners outside of Pekin, and forced the Imperial High Commissioner to kill the magistrates of Lai-sui and Hsin-ching. As they pay no attention to the laws, they are rebels, and therefore should be suppressed. The characters which they place on their flags, saying ‘Assist China to exterminate foreigners,’ are but pretences, such as have been used by the secret societies in different provinces in times past. If they really claim to assist the Government, how is it that they disobey the Imperial orders? Now, to the north, east, south, and west of Pekin, for nearly a thousand li [330 miles], there are thousands of these people, who are forcing the inhabitants to supply them with food. The people in these districts are not all Christians, yet hundreds of them have had their homes burnt, and have themselves been maltreated or killed. There is famine and drought in the districts about Pekin this year, and yet the people are forced to keep these hordes. Therefore they ought to be suppressed. They have damaged and destroyed the Government telegraphs and railways to the value of several million taels. They have obstructed the transmission of Imperial decrees and memorials. They have [Pg 154]delayed the movements of the Imperial troops, they have destroyed countless native and foreign houses outside Pekin, and in many other ways they have shown that they are but robbers, and should be suppressed. They are not content with having forced the country into war with the foreign Powers, but they must damage foreign property, and even kill the Chancellor of the Japanese Legation. In every respect they deserve suppression.

“Now, in consequence of all this, Taku has been taken by the foreign Powers, thousands of foreign troops have been landed at Tientsin, on the road to the capital, and more are pouring in daily. This shows that the danger is very pressing, so much so that the time for words is but short. It must be borne in mind that no country which is in the hands of rebels has been able to stand as a country, nor does history give us an example of a country which has been able to preserve its status when it has gone to war with several nations at the same time without just cause. The Boxers are unarmed and undisciplined, and have repeatedly been defeated by the Imperial troops, both in Shantung and Chihli. Recently they have been defeated by the foreign soldiers in Lofa and in Tientsin Settlement, and many of them killed. It will be seen that they can never stand against firearms and shells. It is impossible for such undrilled, unarmed, and unled mobs to face foreign troops for a moment.

“Therefore we humbly pray your Majesties, the Empress-Dowager and the Emperor, to bear in mind the interests of the Empire and vigorously to decide to do what is right, regardless of the unmeaning words which may be spoken by designing persons, and immediately to issue edicts ordering the severe punishment and extinction of the Boxers, [Pg 155]to prevent the Imperial troops from making further trouble, and to relieve the anxiety of those residing in the Legations by informing them that there is no intention of going on with these troubles. Inform them that Li-hung-chang has been ordered up to settle matters with their respective Governments, and request them to order that hostilities cease; then it will be possible to turn to the Boxers and put them down. We also pray that Imperial edicts be sent by wire to the Ministers of China in various countries, apologising for the past troubles; and let it be known that a large gratuity will be bestowed for the murder of the Japanese official. Then issue edicts informing the people that the Government takes all responsibility for the protection of foreign lives and property, and order the officials throughout the Empire to take stringent measures for the protection of foreign merchants and missionaries. This will appease the anger of the foreign countries. We shall then be able to put affairs in the Empire upon a good footing. At present the country is on the verge of a great calamity, and a few days’ delay may mean the breaking up of the country, and then it will be too late. On account of this we are all much worried and alarmed.

“Presented by the joint memorialists, who are all of the same mind, with the utmost respect and submission, praying that it may receive your august sanction without delay.”

(This was sent by the memorialists to General Jung Lu, with the request that he would deliver it, and transmit the answer to the signatories.)

A satisfactory proclamation—For the preservation of order—A tangible agreement with foreign consuls—Confidence in provincial governments—Manufacturers of news and insurgents—Merchants and peaceful people to be protected.

A few days later, on July 3, the satisfactory Proclamation hereunder was further issued by their Excellencies Chang-chih-tung, Viceroy of the Hukuang, and Yu-Yin-Liu, Governor of Hupeh.

No news was reaching Tientsin from Taku, in spite of all the efforts made to communicate with the fleets. The anxiety was necessarily very great, and messengers could not be obtained for love or money to bring messages down. Some that had gone had never come back. They had been seized by the Chinese and killed. Mr. James Watts, a young Englishman, volunteered to ride down to Taku with despatches, and having a thorough knowledge of the country started at night with three Cossacks. By making a long détour the small party reached their destination in safety, occupying some twelve hours on their way. The bravery of this act and the service which he rendered to the community cannot be over-estimated, and it is to be hoped that the Government will see its way to reward Mr. Watts as other foreign Governments have long since done.

More Russian reinforcements—Much shelling and little damage—Chinese segment-shells—To the relief of Seymour—Disastrous to furniture—An interesting collection—The Wei-hai-wei Chinese regiment—A note from Sir Robert Hart—Lieutenant-Colonel Shirinsky the liberator of the Seymour Expedition—The capture of the Pei-Yang Arsenal—The arrival of Japanese troops—Junks seized—A laconic message from Sir Robert Hart—An extraordinary consular advice—The answer it deserved—The arrival of Vice-Admiral Alexieff—International forces landed—Field and machine guns—The projected advance on Pekin—A proposal to Japan—Germany—The situation discussed—The Maxims in action.

More Russian reinforcements arrived in Tientsin on June 25 with General Stessels, who effected a junction with Anisimoff. Although the Settlement had been continually shelled by the Chinese, comparatively little damage had been done, except in the French Concession, which was a mass of ruins. The British and American Consulates suffered slightly, only a few shells finding their way through the walls or the roof. It was noticed that only about 25 per cent. of the Chinese segment shells exploded. The rest were fired without being charged.

At half-past eleven in the evening, all the bluejackets available, of every nationality (except, of course, barrack guards and guns’ crews), together with the marines and four companies [Pg 162]of Russians, commanded by Lieutenant-Colonel Shirinsky, set out to relieve the Commander-in-Chief, who had been reported hard pressed in the Arsenal at Wuku, which he had captured.

The 25th passed quietly. Only a few shells dropped into the Settlement, and were disastrous to furniture, if not to human life, as may be judged by the effect of one of them on a chest of drawers in the house of Mr. Gammon, of the American Bible Society. The other photograph shows the variety of shells, whole and in pieces, bullets, cartridges, and weapons, collected by Mr. Gammon in and around his house during the siege.

The Wei-hai-wei Chinese Regiment arrived, a smart, business-like lot of men, doing great credit to Colonel Bower, who raised the regiment, and to the able officers who assisted him.

A note from Sir Robert Hart was received by Mr. Drew, the Commissioner of Customs, saying that the Legations had been notified to leave Pekin within twenty-four hours. The letter was dated June 19, at 4 P.M.

On Tuesday, the 26th, Lieutenant-Colonel Shirinsky returned, escorting back to Tientsin the Seymour force, which he had liberated. Their many wounded, their sufferings and heavy fighting, have been recorded in previous chapters.

The British marines and 1st Chinese Regiment went out on the 27th to support the Russians in taking the Pei-Yang Arsenal, north-east of Tientsin. Chinese shells kept dropping into the Settlement, and some excitement was caused by the arrival of a number of Japanese troops.

During the four days following, June 28, 29, 30, and July 1, nothing of great importance happened. The wounded from the Endymion were sent down to Taku, and the Alacrity’s men returned to their ship, while 800 more Japanese arrived.

Some time and much energy were spent in seizing and clearing out junks to be used for transport purposes, and in organising means to supply the necessary wants of the community, both military and civil.

By this time the people had got so much accustomed to the spasmodic bombardment that they hardly took any notice of the shelling, which none the less caused daily damage.

Many strange things occurred on June 29. First, a [Pg 164]laconic message from Sir Robert Hart was brought in by a messenger from Pekin, addressed “To the officer commanding any European troops.

“Besieged in British Legation. Situation desperate. Make haste. Sunday, 4 P.M., R. Hart.”

The last two words were doubly underlined, and followed by notes of exclamation. The preceding words were underlined once. The courier who brought the message stated that the date referred to Sunday, June 24.

More extraordinary than the above message, but probably caused by it, was the decision taken at a Consular meeting, when the Consuls unanimously agreed to suggest to their respective countries that the Chinese Government should be informed that, in case the persons of the foreign Ministers were touched (in Pekin), the mausoleum of the (Manchu) dynasty would be destroyed by the European troops.⁠[9]⁠

When such suggestions are seriously made by our Representatives, sensible people cannot wonder that the Chinese hold us in absolute contempt. Lord Salisbury promptly replied that the threat appeared very unlikely to have any effect upon mutinous soldiery or a riotous mob, and that the British Government felt unable to sanction a measure which would be so offensive to European opinion.

On the following morning, the 30th, Vice-Admiral Alexieff, Governor-General of Port Arthur and Liao-tung province, Commander-in-Chief of all Russian forces in the East, arrived at Taku, and proceeded at once to Tientsin, where he made his headquarters in the beautiful house of Mr. Batoueff, next to the American Consulate.

The Allies had in all fifty-three field guns and thirty-six machine guns. The desirability of sending a second and stronger column to relieve Pekin was felt in many quarters, but, with all the possible reinforcement expected, the force would scarcely reach 20,000 men, and this number was hardly sufficient to hold the base from Taku to Tientsin. An advance on Pekin could not be effected until further contingents were sent for, and it was calculated that at least a month would pass before it could be possible to start to the relief of the besieged Legations in Pekin.

Besides, there still remained Tientsin native city to be captured before the Allies could proceed further.

The Japanese Government was sounded at this point as to its willingness to despatch at once a force of twenty or thirty thousand men which they had ready, but the Japanese behaved with great caution and diplomatic skill in the matter, evidently not wishing to be involved in any complications with Russia, Germany, or any other nation interested.

	Officers.	Men.
American	20	329
Austrian	12	127
British	184	1,700
French	17	387
German	44	1,300
Italian	7	131
Japanese	119	3,709
Russian	117	5,817
Total	520	13,500

Eventually such an expedition ceased to be required, England having decided to despatch 10,000 men from India, and Germany to despatch a force consisting of a horse field battery, a detachment of pioneers, and the 1st and 2nd Marine battalions, while two reserve battalions were to be kept in readiness at Kiel and Wilhelmshaven. The commander [Pg 166]of the expeditionary force was to have the authority of a Commander of a division.

An extraordinary brigade, 7000 strong, made up of soldiers who volunteered, was also to be formed and despatched to China.

Martial law had been duly proclaimed in Tientsin by Captain Bayly, under the direction of Admiral Seymour.

At a Consular meeting, at which Admiral Seymour presided and General Dorward was present, it was decided that the military authorities should from that date (June 29) assume absolute control of affairs, and take such measures as they deemed necessary. An attack on the Settlement might be expected at any moment.

The situation was fully discussed. General Dorward pointed out that the Russian position on the left bank of the river, held by about 4000 men, was considered strong; the German Settlement, with only a few buildings, not an unfavourable position for defence; but the other positions, held by 2500 men—Americans, British, Italians and Japanese—were not particularly defensible in case the French Settlement, which was deemed absolutely untenable if severely attacked, should fall.

Admiral Alexieff and General Fukushima being shortly expected, the meeting was postponed, and steps were at once taken to strengthen the French and British positions of defence, which particularly needed to be made stronger.

On June 30, at 10.15 P.M., there was heavy firing upon the Settlements, and bullets were pelting freely on the Victoria Road.

The Maxims were brought into action, and on July 1, in the morning, the Chinese sent a number of shells into the French and British Concessions, while the Russians pounded away in return with their artillery.

Haphazard shooting—Mr. Campbell wounded—A lake of sugar—French troops—Refugees—Chinese shells—Attempting to seize the pontoon bridge—Russian gallantry—Women and children—A reconnaissance—The enemy’s Krupp guns—Two 12-pounder guns—A serious attack on the railway station—The Settlement heavily shelled—Exodus of refugees—Accurate Chinese fire—Arrival of Japanese troops and two 4-inch British guns—Artillery available in Tientsin—Temperance Hall the chief target—A reconnoitring party—The Wei-hai-wei regiment under fire—More guns arrive.

July 2 was a fairly quiet day but for haphazard shooting upon the Settlements by the Chinese entrenched some seven or eight hundred yards north-west of Temperance Hall. They were reported to be 3500 strong, and to belong to General Ma. Only a few shots were fired from the Chinese big guns.

Unfortunately these bullets, although aimed at no one in particular, were a constant danger to any one who ventured out of the house. Mr. C. Campbell, of the Consular Service, a great Chinese scholar, who had rendered valuable assistance with the Seymour Expedition, received quite a serious wound in the ankle on that day, while walking about the Settlement.

An exciting fire broke out in the sugar go-down adjoining [Pg 168]the barracks of the Barfleur, and great concern was felt until the considerable stores of ammunition and explosives were removed out of reach of the flames, and taken to a place of safety. The fire was eventually overcome, but the several thousand pounds of sugar that were in the building all melted, and flowed in a boiling torrent along the Bund and into the lanes and back-yards. It was quite a unique sight to have before one a regular lake of burnt sugar some sixty yards in circumference and five or six inches deep, and to tread on its surface was worse than troublesome. The photograph here reproduced gives a fair idea of its size.

About 350 Frenchmen and a number of picturesque Annamites, with their peculiar flat hats, were welcomed into the Settlements, having marched seven and a half miles [Pg 169]from the terminus of the railway, to which the trains were still running from Tong-ku.

The tug-boat Fawan took down the river a lot of refugee women and children, and the Cossacks started upon a reconnaissance, from which they did not return in the evening.

The rainy season having now arrived, there were heavy showers in the afternoon, and a gloom was cast over British naval circles by the death of Midshipman A. P. Donaldson from a severe wound.

As usual, on the morning of the 3rd the residents were awakened by the rumbling report of heavy artillery all round them. Shells were whizzing in every direction, and causing considerable damage to the houses of foreigners. Shells would very easily penetrate a single wall, but seldom passed through two.

During the night a fearful fusillade had been opened on the Russians and the French, especially near the Railway Station. The Chinese made an attempt to seize the pontoon bridge. The Russians behaved not only with gallantry, but [Pg 170]also with amazing coolness, and drove away the enemy, who took cover behind the numerous salt hills on the opposite bank of the river, and blazed away at the French for some two hours. The French held their own, notwithstanding that the Chinese had brought their two largest guns, which had been located in the city fort, down to the banks of the stream.

These guns caused much annoyance, segment-shells being poured into the Settlement in uncomfortable quantities.

A thunderstorm increased the pleasures of life in Tientsin on that particular afternoon. An order was issued by the Admiral, Sir E. Seymour, that all women and children, some 300 in all, must be sent down river at the earliest opportunity, and that, while the Settlement was being shelled, the cellars of the Gordon Hall were to be used as shelters by those who had no cellars of their own.

The Japanese relieved the British and Germans at their pickets to the south and west of the defences.

A reconnaissance cost the Russians and Japanese 50 men, 16 killed and 34 wounded.

Sniping went on all through the night, and by the morning of the 4th the enemy had mounted a number of modern Krupp guns, nine of which were plainly visible, on the south wall of the city. The enemy had been strongly reinforced, and in the afternoon came out of the South Gate in great numbers, apparently meaning to attack the Settlement.

Two 12-pounder guns had just arrived with eighty marines from the Terrible, and two more of these guns were placed in position and opened fire on the Chinese, while the Japanese infantry kept up a smart fusillade, and poured in lead from Maxims and from their old-fashioned pieces of artillery.

This move was only a feint on the part of the Chinese to draw the attention of the enemy while a more serious attack was being made on the Railway Station. The Chinese had shown great anxiety to take possession of the Railway Station, and having been unable to do so, had shelled it heavily, wrecking the greater part of the principal building and destroying several engines and a quantity of rolling-stock.

The men of the Barfleur were not strong enough to cope with the determined attack of the enemy, and were so hard pressed that strong reinforcements were sent for. The Russians, under the brave Colonel Shirinsky, and the French, immediately went to their assistance, as well as the Hong Kong and the Wei-hai-wei Chinese Regiments. The fighting was unflagging on both sides, and the casualties many—over sixty on the side of the Allies. A violent storm of hail and rain eventually put an end to the fight.

Early the next morning (July 5) the Settlement was heavily shelled, the French Concession suffering more severely than the British. There was an exodus of 160 refugees, mostly women and children, on the tug Fawan, with a lighter in tow. They were accompanied down the river by British and German volunteers, and by some German sailors—in all 100 rifles.

The Chinese fire was extremely accurate, and their guns so well concealed that, although they were believed to shell the Settlement from the city fort (Shui-tze-ying) and to have mounted fresh guns on the Lutai canal, it was really beyond the power of the Allies to locate the guns with precision and silence them. Many attempts were made unsuccessfully.

A thousand Japanese infantry and 200 cavalry arrived, as well as two 4-inch quick-firing guns from H.M.S. Algerine. [Pg 172]Besides these four large guns, there were now in Tientsin, altogether, a third 12-pounder, on Captain Scott’s mountings, 28 field-pieces of more or less antiquated patterns, and some Gatlings, Colt Automatics, and Maxims, quick-firers of small calibre.

Things became hot in the Settlement on the 6th, when shells poured in like hail the whole day, especially on Temperance Hall, which appeared to be the chief target—probably because General Dorward had his headquarters there.

A reconnoitring party went out to try and find the position of the Chinese 3-pounder guns, two of which were shelling the Settlement. The Chinese were cleverly trying to outflank the defenders from the south-west and west, where they had brought up a battery of Krupp guns near the Racecourse. The Wei-hai-wei Regiment, with Major Bruce in command, was sent out twice into a Chinese village on the Taku road, with A and B companies of the Barfleur as supports, but unfortunately the enemy, well under cover, kept up such a hot fire on them—and they were fully exposed to it—that their gallant efforts met with no success. Alas! they even had to retire with a heavy list of casualties, Major Bruce himself receiving a serious wound in the abdomen, and Midshipman Esdale, who behaved with great pluck, being also severely injured.

The guns, as was discovered some days later, were on the opposite side of the canal.

The Wei-hai-wei Regiment is said to have behaved with [Pg 173]considerable coolness and courage on this trying occasion, and it speaks volumes for the officers who have in so short a time succeeded in training such excellent soldiers. There had been much speculation beforehand as to the probable conduct of this new regiment, and it was felt with some apprehension that to make them fight against their own kith and kin was rather unfair and hard on them. However, whether against kin or no, it cannot be doubted that they fought well whenever they had a chance.

On the same day a tug brought up two more 4-inch guns and a 6-pounder, with plenty of ammunition, and positions were assigned to these upon the “mud wall,” at a spot just skirting the British Extra Concession, and commanding the plain towards the Racecourse. An attack was feared from that side (south-west and west), and on the 6th the unprotected houses of Messrs. Detring and Dickinson, which had so far miraculously escaped destruction, were looted by Chinese soldiers and burnt to the ground.

The 4-inch naval gun—Captain Bayly Provost-Marshal—The West Arsenal—British refugees uncared for—Operations against the West Arsenal—A British naval 4-inch gun mounted—Guns on the Mud-wall—The enemy’s artillery—Marvellous shooting—Lyddite shells—Another determinate attack on the Station—The exact range—The wounded of the Pekin brigade—Lieutenant Blonsky—Admiral Seymour returns to Taku.

It was not till July 7 that preparations could be made for mounting a 4-inch naval gun, and a party was sent out to the East Arsenal to get timber, while the 12-pounder was used to shell the city. In return the Chinese Krupp guns made excellent practice upon the Tientsin Settlement, and knocked houses about very successfully. The shells were mostly directed upon the various barracks, an undeniable evidence that the Chinese had spies in the Settlement who kept them well informed of what the foreigners were doing.

Captain S. Bayly, R.N., of the Aurora, was elected Provost Marshal, with Lieutenant Leonard, of the United States Marines, as Deputy. A strict injunction was posted that all suspicious characters should be made prisoners.

On July 8 the Chinese shelled the 12-pounder guns heavily, in the hope of silencing them, and also endeavoured to blow up the gasworks.

The mounting of the 4-inch guns was proceeding fast, and the gunners manning our 12-pounders tried their best to disable the enemy’s Krupp guns placed on either side of the Hai-kwang-Sze Arsenal, usually called by our men the West Arsenal, and also known as the Joss-House Arsenal. It was in this building that, in 1873, the Treaty of Tientsin was concluded and signed by Lord Elgin. The capture of the Arsenal was deemed necessary, as the Chinese had four guns here, which they constantly trained on the Settlement; moreover, once in the hands of the Allied forces, the causeway would be practically free from shelling in the rear, and an attack on the native city could then be undertaken with greater safety.

The other and larger arsenal, three miles east of the city, and the same distance north-east of the Military College, had previously been captured by the Russians, with British marines from the Terrible and other ships.

While the women and children of other nationalities received every protection and care from their own compatriots, the British were shockingly abandoned to their [Pg 176]fate in Tongku, and left at the mercy of enterprising speculators. The persons mostly to blame for this neglect were those in authority in Tientsin, who never notified the Tong-ku officials that they had been despatched down the river. This would have involved very little extra trouble, and the poor things would have been spared much suffering and anxiety.

At twenty minutes to three A.M. on Monday, July 9, 1000 Japanese, 400 Russians, and 1000 British soldiers, including native troops, took part in the operations against the Hai-kwan-Sze Arsenal. The Japanese formed the attacking line, with the Royal Welsh Fusiliers on their right. The remainder of the troops engaged were supports and reserve. The advance was made along the Taku road as far as Tum-Tui, where the force wheeled to the right and formed for attack against the Racecourse and the remains of the houses of Detring and Dickinson, in which large numbers of Boxers were concentrated. The Japanese cavalry dashed into these, charging to and fro several times and doing great execution. They left hundreds of the enemy dead on the field, and captured three standards, while the infantry seized four guns. The entire Allied force then moved on the Arsenal, which had been evacuated by the enemy, and was found deserted. The casualties of the Allies were few—ten dead and sixty-five wounded.

The operations were over by half-past 12 P.M., and the troops returned to barracks. During the whole forenoon of that day the Settlement was heavily shelled by the Chinese, but the capture of the arsenal was undoubtedly the first step towards the capitulation of Tientsin city.

On the 10th a British naval 4-inch gun from H.M.S. Phœnix was mounted near the mud wall in the British Extra [Pg 177]Concession by Lieutenant Drummond, of H.M.S. Terrible, and Engineer Cockey of the Centurion. Upon the mud wall itself three 12-pounders from the Terrible were now placed in position, pointing towards the Racecourse, whence another attack was feared, while five 6-pounders from different ships were brought to bear on the native city, principally on the South Gate. A 4.7 gun was brought close to the 4-inch gun, but was never required, and was not even placed on its mount. The other 4-inch British gun was placed on the road to the Arsenal, and next to it a 12-pounder playing on those two forts, north-east of the city, which had caused most trouble to the Settlements and Railway Station.

The enemy turned their guns on our 4-inch gun by the Arsenal and on the Russian guns, and shelled them with extraordinary precision. The enemy, under the command of General Nieh, was reported to be over 20,000 strong. [Pg 178]Great credit was given to their gunners for their marvellous shooting. The men of the Terrible said that the shelling of Ladysmith, from which they had come, was mere child’s play compared with the hot and well-directed fire of the Chinese artillerymen.

From half-past three to half-past seven A.M. on the 11th, the Chinese shelling was terrific. The 4-inch guns of the Algerine, mounted on the mud wall, were pouring lyddite shells into Tientsin city, while the Chinese were trying hard to silence the British guns with their excellent Krupps.

As was expected, the Chinese made another determined attack upon the Station. A British company was sent out as a reinforcement. There was fierce fighting at 4 A.M., the Chinese actually charging the Allies with their bayonets fixed, and even succeeding in breaking through between the French and the British lines. They captured a number of trucks, which they used as cover, and from which they kept up a smart fire, principally on the Hong Kong regiment of Pathans. The Hong Kongs eventually succeeded in driving them from their position, but the Chinese showed astounding pluck and tenacity, as well as a considerable amount of strategy on the part of their officers.

The casualties of the Allies were heavy—about 100, mostly wounded. A few were killed.

The Hotchkiss and 12-pounder guns of the Allies were hard at work on the enemy till nearly seven o’clock.

One hundred and eighty American marines arrived, and a second 4.7 gun was brought up and landed by the steam-tug Fawan.

In the afternoon, from 1.30 to 3.30, the Chinese having found the exact range of the 4-inch gun by the Arsenal, shelled it heavily, while the two British 4-inch replied in a vigorous and destructive manner with their lyddite shells. One of these proved disastrous to the high pagoda used as a watch tower near the city fort. The building flared up and collapsed.

July 12 was an unbearably hot day. There was no fighting and no shelling till late in the afternoon, except some stray missile to remind people that war was going on.

The remainder of the “Pekin Brigade,” with four [Pg 180]wounded, were sent down to Taku in a lighter towed by the tug Heron.

I saw one brave marine, whose arm had just been amputated at the shoulder, smoking his pipe and laughing over his misfortune. Another, shot through the foot, thought he was lucky, since he might have fared worse. A curious incident was related to me. A bullet having gone through a soldier’s hat, he absent-mindedly carried his headgear under his arm till the end of the battle, to save it from further perforation.

It was on the 12th that Lieutenant Blonsky, who, as we have seen, behaved so bravely in the search for the Belgian and Italian railway engineers, was dangerously wounded in several places by a shell, when he had only just come out of the hospital cured of the many spear thrusts and sword cuts received in his encounter with the Boxers.

Vice-Admiral Seymour and a number of men from the Centurion, Orlando, and Aurora, returned to Taku.

The attack on the native city—Troops taking part in the operations and their respective positions—Chinese quick-firing guns and modern rifles—Gingals—The defenders of the city—Swampy ground and lack of cover—Plucky Pathans—The death of Colonel Liscum—A difficult position—A reported conversation—The plucky Japanese—At the South Gate—Blowing up the gates—Scaling the wall—The gate opened—The fall of the city—Town set fire to—The devotion of a practical son—The Arsenal and Armoury.

An attack on the native city was to take place early in the morning of the 13th. A well-concerted bombardment began at sunrise from all the available pieces of artillery in the possession of the Allies.

As we have seen, there were the two 4-inch rapid-fire naval guns, one mounted on the road to the Arsenal with a 12-pounder next to it, the other near the mud wall; while three more 12-pounders were on the wall itself, with five 6-pounder Hotchkiss quick-firing guns. A number of 9-pounders, and about twenty-eight or thirty field-pieces, were also brought to bear on the city wall. The 4.7 was still unmounted, as it was not required.

In the forenoon of the 13th the Allied forces, numbering 4300, viz.: 2000 Japanese, 800 British, 600 French, 900 Americans, 100 Germans and Austrians (the latter not taking [Pg 182]part until night), made an attack on the walled city from the south, under the protection of our guns on the mud wall.

The American marines were on the extreme left wing; next to them came the Welsh Fusiliers. The Japanese occupied the centre, and the French marched along the Taku road as reserves and support. The British bluejackets and marines were on the right of the Japanese force, and the 9th United States Infantry on the extreme right wing. It will be seen that the Americans thus occupied the two extreme wings.

On the first day the Chinese kept up a terrific fire from quick-firing machine guns, Mauser, Mannlicher, and Winchester rifles, and gingals. These gingals are a purely Chinese adaptation of the modern breech-loading stock to a barrel about seven feet in length. Three men are required to fire one of these weapons, which can do much execution, and are greatly favoured by the Chinese. They can be sighted very accurately to a very long range, and, compared with small-bore weapons, the bullet undoubtedly has considerable stopping power, especially when the cartridge has a split-nosed projectile, a wound from which is terrific.

The wall of the native city was well manned by artillerymen of the Imperial Chinese army, in addition to a mob of Boxers firing with old-fashioned matchlocks and other [Pg 185]obsolete weapons. In the suburbs outside the South Gate great numbers of Boxers had been employed to snipe from their mud houses at the Allies.

Considerable difficulty was encountered in advancing towards the city, owing to the swampy nature of the ground and the lack of shelter from Chinese bullets. In fact, the loss of the Allies was great—708 in all, without counting the losses of the Germans and Russians, who moved on the city from the north-east, and carried everything before them.

The Wei-hai-wei Regiment and more marines were sent as reinforcements, but were mostly employed in carrying away the wounded, while the Pathans conveyed ammunition to the front.

Four of these plucky fellows, with a convoy of mules, were despatched to the front. One was shot; his companions [Pg 186]went on; two more fell dead, and the only one remaining to lead the convoy faced the bullets. Alas! he, too, was hit in the head and fell bravely. The mules stampeded, and the ammunition never reached its destination.

The Americans on the right were proceeding under shelter of the dykes. In getting over one of these dykes their much-honoured Commander, Colonel Liscum, was killed while performing a gallant and patriotic deed. It appears that in the hail of bullets his standard-bearer was shot. Colonel Liscum, who was near him, would not see the Stars and Stripes precipitated in the mud, but seized the flag, and, waving it, ordered his men to storm the dyke, he running ahead. Unhappily he was struck by a bullet, and died shortly after.

The position occupied by the Americans was a very difficult one, as the distance from the two Chinese guns across the canal to the dyke was only seventy-five yards. Moreover, the Chinese, strongly entrenched in the German flour mill, kept up a deadly fusillade. By sunset the Americans had 120 killed and wounded, ninety of the 9th Infantry and thirty marines.

Besides Colonel Liscum, Captain Davies was killed, and Captain Long, Captain Lemly, Lieutenant Leonard and Lieutenant Butler were wounded. Lieutenant Leonard’s arm required amputation. The Americans found it impossible to hold their position, and after dark retired.

The story goes that at nightfall a Commander of the Allies approached the Japanese General Fukushima and proposed to give the order to retire.

“If I give an order at all,” the Japanese replied firmly, “it will be to go still further forward.” So all stayed and conquered their way inch by inch under cover of the night. [Pg 187]In this engagement the British marines had five killed and forty wounded.

The plucky Japanese, who always led during the engagement, at last reached the South Gate, which was already much battered by the 4-inch gun and by the 6-pounders on the mud wall.

At twenty minutes past three A.M. on July 14, the South Gate was blown up by the Japanese. As, however, the city gates were double, yet another effort was made to blow up the second gate. While this was being done a number of Japanese soldiers climbed the wall, hand over fist, and as quick as lightning were on the other side. They opened the gate amid the hurrahs of their companions, and a flood of foreign troops, Japanese, British and French, poured into the town, bayoneting and shooting the Chinese, who still [Pg 188]sniped from inside their houses, and made a desperate resistance. Too high praise cannot be given to the Japanese officers and soldiers. They proved themselves perfect soldiers in every way.

The actual losses in entering the city on the 14th were about ten wounded—a small loss indeed when compared to that of the previous day.

The greater portion of the town was set on fire, and the rush of foreign soldiers and of stampeding Chinese hustling in the narrow streets and along the wall was a curious sight.

One of the snapshots here reproduced shows a number of natives bolting at our approach upon the day that Tientsin fell, as well as the pathetic and humorous picture of a young man carrying his decrepit and paralysed mother in a contrivance of double baskets, her weight being accurately balanced on the opposite side by a number of bricks, a few cucumbers, and some cabbages.

Dead men lay about in the streets and piled along the wall; others, wounded, lay quietly, and, if you approached, simulated death for fear of being killed. Every now and then a revolver or rifle shot came from a sniper inside a house, and when discovered, short work was made of him there and then. The Americans took possession of the Arsenal by nightfall, fort after fort had fallen, and the flags of all the Allies floated victorious all along the battered wall of Tientsin Chinese city.

The troops who defended the city were General Ma’s soldiers, ten camps infantry (5000 men) and three camps cavalry (750 men); Viceroy’s soldiers, 1000; the Lien-Chün and Hwai-Chün (troops with artillery raised by Li Hung Chang); General Nieh’s army; 1000 Salt Commissioner’s soldiers. The latter behaved with extraordinary bravery.

The looting of Tientsin—The residents—A special case—A day’s free hand—The only punishment—A study of the looters—Tommy Atkins and Jack Tar—The friends at home—Good-hearted devils.

Hardly had the gates been thrown open and the Allied troops found their way into every nook of the town, than Chinese portable property that had any value began to change hands. American, Russian, British, Japanese and French soldiers ran here and there, poking their noses into [Pg 190]every doorway, the door, if not open already, being soon kicked open. The foreign residents of Tientsin, knowing the town well, had an unfair advantage over Tommy Atkins and the American boys, who had to feel their way about, whereas the residents, especially those who had not distinguished themselves in the fighting line, lost no time in making for the Mint, the Salt Commissioner’s palace, the Viceroy’s Yamên, or the nearest silk or jewellery store, where they knew that wealth was accumulated, and where they helped themselves to anything that took their fancy. Sycee, lump silver, and bar gold were preferred.

It is difficult to decide whether looting is at any time right or wrong, but in all fairness it must be kept in mind that the case of Tientsin was a special one. The main portion of the city was already on fire, most of the houses had already been broken into and looted by the Boxers and Chinese soldiers, and presently every thing that remained would be destroyed by the flames. It certainly seemed a pity to let so much beautiful and valuable property be wasted. Was it not, then, the lesser evil to allow these men, who had fought hard, to reap what benefit they could from the misfortune of others, especially since “the others” were doomed to misfortune in any case? To prevent looting was impossible. The authorities, therefore, seem to have followed the only sensible line, by giving the soldiers and marines a day’s free hand.

The accounts of the looting published in England and America were not accurate, and seemed to be mostly written by persons who had some ulterior motive in showing the soldiers of some one nation or another at their worst. I maintain that, if looting is to be looked upon as a crime, the soldiers of all nations, none excepted, disgraced themselves [Pg 191]alike. The Russian, the British, the American, the Japanese, the French, all looted alike. They one and all were looters of the very first water. I say it and I maintain it. But, on the other hand, I cannot see that in this particular case of the Chinese war looting was a criminal offence. On the contrary, it was the only way by which the natives could be punished for their outrages on our men, women and children; and, degrading as it may seem to those who had no chance of taking part in it, there is no doubt that the only portion of this war which will cause the Chinese some future reflection will be the burning and looting of Tientsin.

Personally, a study of the looters was extremely interesting, and afforded me more pleasure than anything I could have carried away. It brought out the characteristics of each nationality and of each individual in a most extraordinary [Pg 192]manner. Considering things generally, and barring exceptional instances, the looting was done in a most pathetic way. Naturally, there were cases of violence, murder, and assault, but they were only few and far apart. Let us take, for instance, the British Tommy and the bluejacket. The first thing they did on entering the city was to start on a wild chase after fowls and ducks in the backyards and side lanes. Tame humming-birds were not always spared. This done, and the prospect of chicken for supper assured, Tommy Atkins laid his hands principally on embroidered silk gowns and articles of jewellery. The native application of the latter he did not quite seem to understand, but with the help of his naval mate, who had been about the world, generally managed to decipher the puzzle.

“My! Won’t my girl be happy when she sees all this!” was the very first thought of Tommy and Jack about the loot. “She’ll know right enough what to do with it all.” And the pockets of Tommy and Jack were soon stuffed to bursting with silver-gilt combs, small carvings, hairpins, elaborate ornaments for the hair, and silver charms of all kinds and sizes, of which Chinese chests of drawers were brimful. “These ’ere silks are rather awkward to carry,” remarks Jack, scratching his head, after trying in vain to bring together the two ends of a cloth on which he had piled enough silk garments to clothe a whole army. But Jack had made up his mind that he was going to present the gown most handsomely embroidered to his sweetheart, the next best to his old mother, since in her old age her sight is getting bad and she will not see the difference, another, the one lined with fur, to his brother John’s wife, and one, all of brocade and gold, to old Mr. Smith, who once lent him five shillings (which, by the bye, he never repaid, but which he [Pg 193]does not deny that he still owes). In fact Jack, overcome by his sudden wealth, entertains a fixed idea that on his return to his native land he is going to give some memento or other to any one that likes to have one, “for people at home,” says he, “value these ’ere China curios more than anything in the world.” In his mind’s eye he can already see the barren walls of his humble home decorated with the costliest brocades cut into small pieces and squeezed into a sort of butterfly shape, or forming rosettes over the ends of the mantelpiece, round the looking-glass, and draped on corners of blurred photographic enlargements of deceased relations.

At home much abuse has been showered on poor Jack and Tom, and it has not always been remembered that in fighting the Chinese our men ran by no means a slight risk of being skinned alive, or decapitated, or boiled in oil, or receiving a [Pg 194]touch of the death of a thousand cuts. Indeed, many a white man and woman had been found brutally mutilated or beheaded, and it is well to recollect that those unfortunate soldiers of the Allies who fell prisoners to the Chinese were invariably tortured in the most infamous fashion, their bodies when eventually recovered being headless and bearing marks of brutal treatment.

It seems hard, in the face of privations bravely endured, that Tom and Jack should be so much blamed for taking property which practically belonged to nobody, since it had been abandoned by the rightful owners and was about to be destroyed. In war between civilised nations, looting is without doubt a crime to be severely condemned and punished, but in the case of a nation like the Chinese, who have no national pride, no respect for any government or law, nor for the life of others or of themselves, there seemed no way of punishing them except by touching their pocket. This the Allied soldiers certainly succeeded in doing extremely well.

To return to the British soldiers and marines, it was interesting to watch them, the younger ones especially, loot, loot, loot, not for themselves, but for the friends and relations at home. One could almost safely say that 75 per cent. of the looting by individual soldiers was not done for the sake of lucre, but merely to obtain mementoes. There was much good-nature shown, even generosity, if the term can be applied to the giving away of stolen goods, by looters to spectators. If one happened to admire any particular article in the bundle of a soldier, he usually begged you to accept it as a present. Several times I have seen payment refused for curios in the possession of soldiers. “Yes, take it,” they would say persuasively. [Pg 195]“Take it; I know where to get more.” There seemed to be no alternative.

Tommy or Jack on the loot was extremely communicative. He was under the impression that all round him were his friends, while no doubt could be entertained that he was the friend of everybody all round. His manner may have lacked polish, but there is no denying the fact that Tommy and Jack were good-hearted devils. They may have had their little faults—no man ever lived who had none—but, looting or no looting, there was something very agreeable about both of them, and in regard to character they were as fine fellows as ever wore a soldier’s or a sailor’s uniform.

The Japanese soldier—His dignified demeanour—His artistic taste—Delicate touch—Appreciation of art—Watches for preference.

The Japanese soldier in many respects resembled the British, but was more reserved, and less anxious to be everybody’s friend. The innocent and frank simplicity of the Briton was replaced in the Oriental by a more graceful, yet a stolid and dignified demeanour. But at heart both were alike, both dare-devils, yet gentle enough if treated the right way. The point where a marked difference lay between the two was in the true and keen artistic sense of the beautiful inborn in the sons of the Mikado’s Empire, and altogether absent in the British Tommy. All that was ancient, refined in line and taste, or pleasing to the eye in colour, had for a Japanese more fascination than anything of ten times its intrinsic value. In other words, an old cup, a bowl, a rolled-up painting yellow with age, a scroll done with a dash of the brush, offered more temptation to the Japanese than a costly roll of silk, for which he would not seem to care at all. I went into a house which had been entered by a number of Japanese privates. They had found a cabinet of old china, and each soldier was revolving in his supple [Pg 197]fingers a cup or a vase or dish, and carefully examining the design.

“Kekko neh!” (“How lovely!”) exclaimed one soldier, looking into the work with the eye of a connoisseur.

“Sajo deska. Taihen joso!” (“Yes, indeed. First rate!”) announced his neighbour, drawing in his breath in sign of admiration, while he tried to decipher the mark on the bottom of each cup. And here a long conversation began on the age of the crockery, how graceful in shape, how fine in texture and make each piece was, and how skilful the artist that painted it. Great regret, accompanied by considerable nodding of the head to the right and left, was expressed at the impossibility of carrying away such artistic ware, owing to its brittleness and size. And here comes the principal point of my story. Such was their admiration for the wares they had handled that, instead of smashing them, [Pg 198]as less artistic troops did those objects that could not be carried away, these Japanese soldiers carefully replaced each article on its shelf.

One could not help being struck, especially when small, delicate articles were handled, by the dainty, artistic touch of the Japanese soldiers as compared with the clumsy, sausage-like fingers of the American, Russian, French or British soldier. The Japanese picked up and laid down the smallest and most minute articles with such neatness and grace that it was a real pleasure to see them, whereas the Yankee, or the French or the British or Russian, not to mention the German, could touch nothing that was not solid bronze or stone without breakage or twisting or soil or injury of some sort. In another house, a group of Japanese soldiers were discussing the merits of an old picture which they had just unrolled. They came to the conclusion that it was at [Pg 199]least 300 years old. An officer entered. They showed it to him and he said that it was a very fine painting. They begged him to accept it. One of the soldiers rolled it up again and wrapped it in a piece of silk as neatly as if he had been a picture-dealer all his life.

The Japanese—I am talking of the common soldiers, not of the officers—were the only soldiers in the field who showed any natural and thorough appreciation of art and of things artistic. They like everybody else, of course—looted, but they did it in a quiet, silent and graceful way, with no throwing about of things, no smashing, no confusion, no undue vandalism. They helped themselves to what they fancied, but it was done so nicely that it did not seem like looting at all—at least, not like looting as understood by people at home. Small ivory or jade carvings were much cherished by the Japanese, but, curious as it may sound, with all their artistic taste, when it came to actual carrying away, their minds ran to the practical, and the principal things for which the little fellows looked were watches of foreign make, which were plentiful in China. Silver repeaters striking the hours, quarters and minutes, made many a Japanese soldier happy, and next to these there was nothing that a Japanese soldier loved better than musical instruments or portable music-boxes. He could almost outdo the Russian in this.

The American soldier—No worse and no better than others—His good qualities—The delights of smashing China vases—A first-class fellow—His topic of conversation—Art and lump silver—His popularity among the Allies—Guarding the Armoury—In the Yamên of the Commissioner of Salt—A diabolical picture—Several million dollars—A mountain of silver.

The American soldier is an interesting study. I have seen it reported in American papers that the American soldiers in China were the only ones who did absolutely no looting, and this was adduced as an example showing the superiority of their morals to those of soldiers belonging to other nationalities. No doubt newspapers of other nations concerned in the war have written in the same manner about their compatriots, and it would be very pleasant to believe that the news one reads in newspapers was always true. In this case the report was particularly false. In regard to looting the American soldier was no worse, indeed, but decidedly no better, than any other soldier present, nor was there any reason why he should have been. Possibly he lacked some of the feeling and artistic taste to be found in some of the other nationalities, and as a rule he displayed much determined business capacity. It must be borne in mind that these remarks are not made in disparagement, but are merely [Pg 201]observations on the characteristics of the American soldier in general in his capacity as a looter. He is curt and blunt with strangers at first, but jolly and warm-hearted upon acquaintance. He does not particularly care for artistic embroideries, nor for rare bronzes and china ware, nor can he understand why anybody else does. He will pick up a costly vase which has been preserved for centuries in the house of a high official, and to save himself the trouble of putting it gently down in the place from which it came will drop it on the floor. Its companion piece at the other end of the sideboard meets a similar fate, the noise of smashing crockery giving more wild delight to his unmusical ears than [Pg 202]the beautiful design, the patient work of years, on the vase, before it was broken, gave pleasure to his artistically untrained eye. The visit of the American soldiers had about the same result on the interior of a Chinaman’s house as a severe shock of earthquake. The contempt of the American soldier for art has a redeeming point. His dry if somewhat coarse sense of humour, his extraordinary remarks on the things he touched and saw, and his composite oaths, in which no nation in the world except the Chinese can rival or equal him, made him an amusing study. His manner and his language may not always fulfil the ideals of European training, but once accustomed to his “bluff,” most of which is assumed to show his independence, which he thinks he has no other way of showing, we shall find him a first-class fellow. From my own observation I can speak highly of the American as a soldier. He generally impressed one, nevertheless, as being a person disappointed in life and always on the look-out for a fortune. When he talked, money was his only topic, and when he could not talk of money he kept silent.

What did he care for works of art? He had heard that some of the porcelain was worth large sums, but he really could not tell a five-cent teapot from a thousand-dollar one. To use his expression, all the works of art in the world were not worth “a cent,” and, anyhow, they had no sound marketable value. All that he looked for in the houses of rich “Chinos,” as he conveniently called the Chinese, was gold bar, or silver, the latter for choice in four and a quarter pound lumps (sycee). If he could not get gold or silver he preferred to have nothing, but he looked and looked until he generally found what he wanted. When once he had it, he was willing, in order to convert it at once into cash, to [Pg 203]sell each four and a quarter pound lump (or seventy dollars worth in weight) for five, ten, fifteen or twenty dollars local currency!

The American soldier, when acclimatised, became extremely popular with all the other nations, and it was pleasant to see him chum, particularly with the British Tommy. He was generous in his dealings with other soldiers, and when he got to know the people was quite affable, and had a pleasant word for everybody. He occasionally referred to “his girl at home,” but hardly ever mentioned any other relative, although no doubt he loved them all dearly. Next to his attention to business, which he transacts as we have seen above, comes his intense interest in firearms. It was therefore lucky that it fell to the lot of the Americans to be set on guard at the large Arsenal inside the city wall, close to the South Gate. Forty [Pg 204]beautiful Krupp and Nordenfeldt guns of the latest pattern were captured, with quantities of small arms and ammunition, including shells of all patterns and sizes. A detachment of the 9th Infantry was placed in charge of the premises, and the men were quartered there until the order came to march on Pekin.

The most fortunate of all were those fellows who were stationed in the burnt-down Yamên of the Commissioner of Salt.

Hardly ever have I seen a sadder and more impressive sight than this beautiful palace, with its fine decorations, being mercilessly destroyed by a terrific fire. Through the large, picturesque gate, at the sides of which sat, impassive, two magnificently-carved lions of red and green stone, with round eyes and curly tails and manes, I gazed upon a sight that brought vividly to mind Dante’s Inferno. The waves of heat were almost blinding if one ventured too near, and, half choked by the smoke, one gazed in awe at the tongues of flame bursting through on all sides, devouring everything within their reach, and shooting up into the air, where they became lost in clouds of black smoke. The crash of collapsing ceilings, the crackling of furniture, and every now and then fearful explosions of cartridges—there were thousands and thousands of rounds in the palace—filled one’s ears. A few dead Chinamen in the foreground completed [Pg 205]the picture, a picture as diabolical as one may ever wish to see. Except for their main walls of masonry, houses in China are mostly of wood, so that in a comparatively short time the rich palace was in ashes.

Before the palace was set on fire the Japanese had taken from it large quantities of sycee silver amounting to several million Mexican dollars. Great wealth, nevertheless, was known to still have remained there. An American guard was placed on the ruins with instructions to dig out the treasure. Some forty Chinese prisoners were set to work, and in four days unearthed several million more dollars, all in sycee silver. A photograph which I took one day in the place shows a high mountain, about thirty feet long, thirty broad, and four high, of solid silver, the result of only one morning’s digging among the ruins. Each lump weighed from four and a quarter pounds to seven pounds, and was of the purest silver. Some lumps were blackened by fire, but their value was undiminished. Each day the silver was conveyed from the palace into the foreign settlement by the American mule teams, and deposited in the headquarters of the 9th Infantry. The British and Japanese carried away similar sums from other official palaces, and, if I understood rightly, a part of the amount collected was to be divided among all the officers and men who took part in the capture of the city, a tangible and sensible way of rewarding the brave fellows of all nations whose splendid work had saved the Tientsin foreign settlement from massacre.

The French soldier—Clothes and eatables—A touching incident—The Russian troops—Not quite so black as they are painted—A fancy for jewellery and perfumery—The manner of the Russian soldier—An untidy looter—Musical boxes spared—Italian opera selections refreshing but out of place—A marvellous work of art—Evil spirits and their ways.

A contrast to the business capabilities of the American soldier, and the enterprise of the British and Japanese in the appropriation of other people’s goods, was furnished by the apparent reluctance of the French to take any article of value. They occasionally selected some small trifle, in a sort of half-apologetic way, and their taste seemed to run particularly towards valueless old clothing, which they evidently proposed to adapt to their own wear. Cheap Chinese cotton pyjamas were carried away in preference to more precious fabrics, while eatables of all kinds, and tobacco, were in great demand.

On the day when Tientsin fell, I happened to be in the centre of the town when I perceived some Frenchmen in a state of great agitation. In my best Parisian I asked them what was the matter. Whereupon with hoarse voices they shouted, waving their arms dangerously over my head:—

“Mais vas donc, vas donc en prendre là, il y en a tant!” [Pg 207](“But go on, go and take some over there, there is such a lot of it!”)

“Mais tant de quoi?” (“But such a lot of what?”) queried I, circumspectly, led to presume by their excitement that they had struck silver or gold bar.

“Mais vas donc; je te dis. C’est du jambon, du jambon, comprends-tu? et il est excellent!” (“But go, I tell you, there is ham, ham, do you understand? and it is delicious!”) So saying, the Frenchman who had talked loudest smacked his lips and his companions did the same. With apologies I said that I intended travelling in the opposite direction, but they shoved me towards the place of the ham. Down a lane we came upon another crowd of Frenchmen who were enraptured over the find, and exclamations of complacency poured forth on all sides as ham after ham was passed out of the shop and laid on the pile in the middle of the road. Two or three of the younger folks gazed in ecstasy at the ever-growing mountain of cured pork, and the joy was little short of delirious when, the pile outside having grown to colossal proportions, the news came from within the shop that there were as many more hams still hanging in a newly discovered room! A discussion arose on the difficulty of transport, and among deafening howls they decided that they could not carry more than they had already taken. Here came the nicest part of the story, which touched me greatly. Knowing that there were a number of British soldiers close by, they sent one of their men to tell them of their discovery, and to ask them whether they wanted to partake of the booty.

“Je crois qu’ils en mangent aussi, les Anglais, du jambon!” (“I think the English eat ham too,”) remarked one of the soldiers, “ça leur fera plaisir d’en avoir” [Pg 208](“they will probably be glad to have it”), he added good-naturedly.

As provisions had been very scarce in Tientsin, this was indeed a gracious thought, and goes to show that, notwithstanding the animosity supposed to exist between British and French, none was felt by soldiers in the field.

The Russian troops, being mostly drawn from Siberia, were somewhat more brusque and wild than the rest, most of the men having strong Mongolian features and general characteristics. But even they were not half as bad as they have been represented. The accounts one hears of them in America and Europe are indeed too ludicrous, and it is astonishing to find so many people who believe them. Like the American, the Russian smashes what he cannot carry away. He particularly fancies jewellery; rings and bracelets he keeps for personal ornament. He has a great [Pg 209]objection to the inside works of a clock, and never seems satisfied until he hears the mainspring give way and jump out of the case. His happiness is complete when on his looting expeditions he strikes a perfumery shop; then, with nostrils wide open, he rejoices in pouring bottle after bottle of scent on his coat and trousers. He is silent, serious, and yet very polite, courteous, and full of humour. With a mad craving for destroying china vases as well as clocks, the Russian is probably the most untidy of all the Allied looters, throwing about everything that is of no use to him. He too values nothing except silver, gold, and furs. There is one thing, nevertheless, that he will respect. That is a musical box. He will wind it carefully, sit down quietly, listen attentively to its entire list of selections, keeping time with his foot, and when he has done with it and his musical ear is satisfied, he dusts it carefully, packs it in the handsomest piece of brocade within reach, and carries it triumphantly to camp, where he makes a present of it to one of his officers. In their homes the richer Chinese had quantities of musical boxes of all sizes and shapes. Some played Chinese popular airs, others gave selections from European operas and favourite songs. It often seemed strange to hear the soft melody of the old “Traviata” or “Trovatore” go on at full speed, wound out by the muscular arm of a Cossack, in the midst of heaps of silk garments piled together, pigskin trunks with their picturesque brass locks smashed open, cabinets torn down, windows smashed, furniture broken, fragments of what was once invaluable pottery strewn on the floor; cloisonné pieces and enamel dishes battered about and trodden upon; a few dead bodies scattered in the courtyard of the house. Inadequate as a musical box may be in reproducing the beauty of any opera, people have no idea what pleasure [Pg 210]it gave, and how restful it was to hear some sweet familiar tune which in a fashion brought back to the senses everything pleasant, artistic, and refreshing, and for a moment—only a moment—made the hearer forget the horrors of war, and even the extra horrors of this particular war.

A marvellous work of art was found by a Cossack in the house of a mandarin. It was an ivory box no larger than a cigarette case. On touching a spring the lid sprang open and a nightingale—most beautifully proportioned and no bigger than a fly—leaped out and stood perched on the edge of the box, where it whistled most beautifully like a real bird. The beak opened and closed as it sang, the tail wagged, and the wings flapped. Even the neck and legs were articulated. The miniature bird had been made in Switzerland. An inscription on the outside cover of the box stated that it had been in various well-known European collections, large sums having been paid for it. Probably the mandarin had disbursed, I dare say, two or three hundred pounds for it, as the Chinese are great admirers of works of patience and skill, and will pay very large sums to obtain them.

Looking-glasses, large and small, played a very important part in the internal decoration of the larger and better houses, but the prettiest part of all of a Chinese house was generally the court, with its front door screen to prevent evil spirits from entering the precinct. Evil spirits, according to Chinese notions, always travel in a straight line, and are unable to turn corners. In that court, generally paved with slabs of stone, are pots of rare plants and gracefully distorted trees. A large earthenware receptacle full of water is never absent, and stands generally in front of the screen at the front door, or in the centre of the courtyard. Long poles are to be seen everywhere, and are used in summer-time, when mats are put up to shade the plants and people from the broiling sun.

Chinese looters—Soldiers and Boxers in disguise—Disgusting greed—Buddhist priests—In official palaces—Digging for treasure—The less daring Chinamen—Flags of truce—Appealing inscriptions—A prevailing impression.

Taking things all round, there is no doubt that those who mostly benefited by the looting of Tientsin were the Chinese themselves. There were crowds of them outside every house where looting went on, and they sneaked in and out, carrying away valuable things. They had the advantage of knowing where to find them. Even Boxers and Imperial soldiers had hastily thrown off their uniform coats, and returned to the city disguised as coolies or peaceful citizens. Their greed was disgusting, and among themselves they acted like wild beasts. When one of them came out of a house with some loot, others sprang on him en masse, overcame him, knocked him down, and his loot was divided among the bystanders, who in their turn were attacked by others behind, until in the mêlée many were injured, and the smarter ones got away with the goods. The Chinese whom one saw in Tientsin soon after its fall were ruffians of the very first water. Their faces alone were a sufficient certificate. What ghastly, murderous expressions were concealed under the servile, submissive manner towards every European that went by!

Then, again, numbers of Buddhist priests prowled suspiciously in the crowd. They were to be seen everywhere, but especially near official residences and where treasure was to be obtained. These fellows, these chief instigators of the Boxer trouble, had evidently crept back into the city under the mask of religion for the double purpose of looting and spying.

When I visited the palace of the Commissioner of Salt, held by the Americans, I took a walk round the site with an officer. We discovered, in a secluded part of the palace, one of these priests and a mate digging among the hot ashes. They had already dug out a quantity of silver and all the official Commissioner’s seals, which the monk quickly proceeded to hide in his sleeve when he saw us. The American officer pointed his revolver at him and called for a guard, while I confined myself to taking a snapshot of [Pg 213]him with my camera, as he tremblingly went down on his knees and begged for mercy. The guard arrived and the looters were made prisoners.

For days and days after the fall of the city one saw crowds of men, women, and children, half naked, digging for treasure among the ruins of burnt houses. There they were, dozens of them, scraping off the ashes and débris as fast as they could with their fingers, until their nails and finger-tips were worn and bleeding. Occasionally they struck a few strings of cash or a piece of silver, and then there was a scuffle and a row, with mutual blows administered in profusion.

The less daring Chinamen whom one saw, peeping out of their houses or standing tremblingly in their doorways, seemed scared out of their senses every time that a European came in sight. For additional safety they each flew one, or even two, flags of truce made of paper or cloth. Specially careful individuals, who valued their lives, had sewn a white flag to their coats in front and another behind, lest the flags carried in the hands should perchance not be sufficient protection. It was a constant remark among the Allied officers that China would be a paradise if one could keep the Chinese in the same behaviour that they displayed after their defeat. They bowed and “chin-chinned” to every “foreign devil” that went by, those sitting down springing up on their feet each time that a soldier passed. Tea and cold water were served out to anybody who wanted it, and the stolid, blunt Chinaman behaved to everybody with a civility never before shown by the sons of the Heavenly Empire.

The appealing inscriptions in English, German, and French, on the doorways and on their flags of truce, were [Pg 214]amusing beyond words. They were written in trembling handwriting, mostly by Chinese who had an imperfect knowledge of English or French: “I am poor man, allies officer please not rob me;” “Great Japan spare me;” “Inside belong friend England, please do not kill.” A common one was “French protection” or “Vive la France,” and appeals to the German Emperor were also frequent. The majority of inscribed entreaties were to the Japanese, probably because the Chinese could write them in their own characters, which read the same in both languages, but also because Japan was at first regarded by the Chinese populace as the leading nation in the war, and the one most to be feared. Even in their little flags of truce, always decorated with the colours of the favourite country, one hardly met with any British or American flags. Out of a hundred people, ninety carried a diminutive Japanese emblem, four the French flag, four the German, one the British, and one the American flag. The reason of this was not only the difficulty of depicting the flags of America and England, but also, in no small degree, the impression prevailing among the ignorant Chinese population that the British had been badly [Pg 215]beaten in Africa, and would not be able to fight nor send soldiers.

Any Chinese found in the settlement or neighbourhood without a flag or a pass was instantly made prisoner or shot.

A walk through the town—Still alive—The Red Cross—A pandemonium—Dividing loot—A pawnshop—Furs, gold and silk embroideries.

I took a stroll through the town. The streets were narrow, and everywhere you could smell dead bodies decomposing in the fearful heat. You saw plenty of them about. Here you stumbled over a dead Boxer, there, two or three Imperial soldiers lay in a heap, fearfully gashed by a shell. Did you not hear a moan? Listen! Yes! That fat Chinaman lying in a pool of blood was still alive. As I stooped over him to ask him if he wanted some water—the only assistance one could render him—he closed his eyes. He did not answer, and held his breath, pretending to be dead. Many were the poor devils that were left about to die for want of assistance, as the Red Cross did not extend its work to the Chinese.

Avoiding the streets where all the houses were on fire, and peeping into every door—where one saw sights of all kinds—here we were at last before a large gateway, into and out of which a crowd of Europeans, Pathans, Americans, and Chinese were madly rushing. The fellows who violently forced their way in had nothing, those who were shot out by the people pushing behind them were balancing with difficulty, [Pg 217]on their heads or upstretched arms, large boxes overflowing with goods, or large bundles, or handfuls of jewellery or furs. This promised to be an interesting sight. I went in. The pressure of the crowd was extreme. One ran short of breath almost to suffocation. Going through the door—the narrowest point, where every one was trying to get in at once—one felt one’s ribs were giving way to the pressure in front, behind, and sideways, but at last, when once inside the building, a large, dark hall, one could breathe freely again, wipe the copious perspiration running down forehead, cheeks, and neck, and sit down on the floor for a while to take the needed rest.

But what a noise! the buzzing of the crowd fighting its way in and out, and running through this hall and out into the next portion of the building, the din of metal being tested on the stone floor, the wild cries and yells of looters who in their turn were looted by neighbouring looters, crossed and mingled with one another. Coming from the brilliant sun, your eyes needed to become accustomed to the light of this first hall; then you saw to your right a number of European soldiers squatting down, counting silver coins, of which they had a pile, sorting out jewellery, of which they had another pile, and big lumps of silver, of which they had a third pile. [Pg 218]There were about eight of them, and according to the general idea I suppose they ought to have quarrelled, even fought with revolvers in hand, over the fair division of the stolen property, but they did not. They were as quiet, as well-behaved, as matter-of-fact over their employment as so many honest men! One might have thought that they were carrying on a legal brotherly trade, of which they were now sharing the due profits.

Once in the human current, one pushed his way through the next door. One was lifted right off one’s feet, and, if one was fortunate enough to avoid being jammed against either pillar of the door, one found oneself in a spacious courtyard crammed with people, empty trunks, boxes, baskets, clothes, hats, broken furniture and china, pewter candlesticks, bronzes and goods of every description scattered pell-mell everywhere. Apparently the chief point of interest was yet further on. All the people were forcing their way into the next building. Gradually working one’s way, one succeeded in penetrating into a huge room, but so dark that it took some time before one could see anything at all, though there was plenty to hear!

What pandemonium! and how the eyes smarted and ached from the dust and dirt with which the air seemed thick, while throats were dry and coughing. Eventually, when my eyes got accustomed to the dim light, I stooped to see where I was putting my feet, for priceless brocades, bronze candlesticks, furs, and other such things, were underfoot. A large box dropped from close to the ceiling, some thirty feet above, and came within an inch of striking me on the head. I say that it came from near the ceiling, for on looking up to remonstrate I perceived a Pathan, who had climbed to the top of the bamboo scaffolding that served as shelves, into [Pg 219]which the room had been divided, leaving narrow passages between scaffold and scaffold. This man, regardless of the safety of his fellow beings standing below, dropped another large box, no less than four feet square and two deep, which, like the preceding one, burst right open on striking the ground. Here a dozen arms outstretched from all sides pulled at valuable furs, such as silver fox, otter, white wolf, seal, squirrel, all lining gaudy coats of magnificent brocade or silk. Some were embroidered in gold, others in delicate silks, and were the patient work of years.

The Pathan, climbing down with the agility of a monkey from his high point of vantage, was just in time to snatch out of the box a bundle containing silver coins, a gold comb, several gold rings, two bracelets, and various other trinkets. He now threw the empty box aside and proceeded to inspect the contents of the first box, which was below.

I never saw such lovely furs. Here were two most beautiful long coats of yellow brocade, lined with white Persian unborn lamb, and yet another coat of the best Tibetan goat. As the Mahommedan dived further and further into the box, out came more sealskin, more silver fox, astrachan, more magnificent embroideries.

“Neh, Sahib, bura crab!” (“No, sir, they are very bad!”) he answered, with a disappointed air. He, too, cared for nothing but gold and silver. Everything else was of no value to him. He threw all aside and proceeded to undo the numberless bundles that were stacked on the tall shelves to his right. These too, to his disgust, contained only silks and brocades, or rolls of silk crape.

The noise, dust, and heat inside the room were unbearable, [Pg 220]and when to all this was added the sight of several prominent Tientsin residents, of no mean rotund proportions, climbing overhead to the top shelves (the lower ones having already been looted), I thought it was high time for me to depart. I forced my way out of the pawnshop—for it was a pawnshop—and when I got out into the open the stifling air seemed quite cool and refreshing by comparison with the foul temperature indoors. It is well known that pawnshops in China do not exactly correspond to ours, but are used more as storehouses by all the natives, rich and poor alike. In winter all the summer clothes, jewels, &c., are stored in them for safe keeping and preservation, and in summer all the furs and warm clothing. Money and valuables not needed are also left in safe keeping of these pawnshops, which are under Government supervision.

The ramparts of the city wall—Modern rifles and obsolete weapons—A defiant Manchu—The looting of the looters—Handy polyglot abilities—A few plain truths—Three chapters of a story in a nutshell—Fortunes made and lost.

While all this went on in the streets, the ramparts of the wall were strewn with dead bodies of soldiers and Boxers. Many who had been killed several days before the capitulation of the city had been pitched down into the street below. The bodies were partly eaten up by dogs, and what remained of them was in a fearful state of decomposition. The majority of soldiers had been wounded in the head when peeping over the wall to snipe at our men. By the side of those last fallen near the loopholes on the top of the wall lay stacks of gingals, Mannlicher carbines, Winchesters, swords, spears, tridents, and thousands of rounds of ammunition. In addition to these modern weapons, a great number of muzzle-loading guns were found that had been used in the defence of Tientsin, and near these one picked up small cane and cardboard tubes used by the Chinese to measure the gunpowder charge when loading them. Pouches filled with lead bullets were scattered about on the ground, [Pg 222]also quantities of nails, pebbles, and other such articles, which were added in the charge to the bullet to cause additional damage to the enemy.

Roaming along, attracted at every turn by some extraordinary sight, one came again to the South Gate of the city.

The striking feature of a tall, defiant Manchu soldier stared me in the face. He sat motionless by the guard-house near the familiar rack, on which stood a number of old, rusty spears and tridents, the shattered remains of ancient Chinese protection. His hands were tied behind his back—for he was a prisoner—and his torn coat exposed in the middle of his chest a deep gash several inches long, caused by a bayonet or a sword. The remains of his coat and his trousers were soaked in blood, and the wound, very recent, was still bleeding profusely, and must have caused him intense suffering. But not a plea for mercy, not a groan of pain, came from his lips. He sat there stolidly and perfectly upright, with a terrible look of pride mingled with contempt on his otherwise impassive face. His jaws were tightly closed, his eyes, which never winked, slowly moved their piercing pupils from one figure to the other of the noisy crowd of foreigners who were rushing with their loot out of the city. Further on, outside the same gate, two heads of Chinese swung on the wall, strung by their pigtails. Evidently two Boxer traitors.

But enough of these horrible sights. In one hour, going through Tientsin city, one could that day see enough disgusting scenes to last one a lifetime.

As I have said, the authorities, with Captain Bayly at their head, allowed free loot the first day; but on the second day, when people, encouraged by the impunity of the day before, came to convey their booty into the foreign Concessions, [Pg 223]they found to their surprise that it was duly seized by officers of the various nationalities. A looting of the looter, as it were.

The amusing part of all this was that, to avoid unnecessary friction, officers were allowed to confiscate the presumed loot brought into the Settlement by their respective countrymen only, and at this point a knowledge of several languages came in handy for looters. When rickshaws and coolies carrying the plunder were stopped by French officers the plunderers would reply in German, on which the Frenchmen would politely salute and declare that they did not understand German, nor had they any power to interfere with German subjects. The British officer, who next challenged the looter, would be met by a jabber of French, and he too would bow courteously and acknowledge that subjects of the much-respected French Republic were not under his jurisdiction. Thus with regretful eyes each would beg the pillager to continue his journey—with his spoils—until, if he knew languages enough to carry him through, he would eventually reach home in safety.

So folks—not military—who were fortunate enough to speak various foreign tongues brought home quite a nice collection of things, whereas others, of less polyglot abilities, had to endure the hardship of compulsory separation from their much-valued pickings. If they remonstrated, a few plain truths were told them in addition; their names—usually somebody else’s—were taken down, and many a rash paterfamilias was made to feel pretty uncomfortable for days to come by such cool remarks of the officers as: “We do not know yet what punishment will be meted out to you, but you will hear;” “Martial law condemns all looters to be shot without trial,” or some such comforting words, [Pg 224]which were enough to eradicate, even in the most enthusiastic, the dangerous mania of collecting Chinese curios without paying for them.

Many amusing tricks were nevertheless played on the officers in charge. Two marines had found 15,000 dollars in silver and gold. They deposited the precious load in the bottom of a water-cart, filled it with dirty water, and, without arousing the slightest suspicion, wheeled it safely into the settlement. Chapter two of the same story saw the two nouveaux riches hopelessly intoxicated, standing drinks all round, and confiding in everybody how they had acquired the large fortune and brought the treasure in without being detected. Chapter three: the silver and gold, less what had been spent in drinks, was duly seized by the authorities, and the men were placed in irons pending court-martial.

Others made and lost similar and even greater fortunes within a few hours, but as the confiscated loot was divided among the brave soldiers who captured the city, no one (after getting over the first shock) thought the treatment unfair. On the contrary, one and all were glad that the troops should have all, and no one grudged that they should be rewarded to the fullest extent.

Across the Grand Canal—The Viceroy’s Yamên—Important documents—Arms destroyed—The Viceroy’s apartments—The War Office—Drill-books—Scientific books—The Foreign Office—Foreign treaties—Documents referring to the Boxer movement—The Female Boxer Society—Captured guns—The value of two heads of foreigners—Rewards for facing the enemy—Fighting in the day and cash payments at night—Articles supplied to the Boxers by the Government—A much-rewarded lieutenant—Receipts growing bigger as the Allies advanced—By the Viceroy’s command—Rewards to Boxers and their families—The last entry in the Viceroy’s day-book.

Across the Grand Canal, outside the city wall, on the north-east corner, a bridge led to the Viceroy’s Yamên. One would have thought that, as the military operations of the Chinese were directed mainly from this point—the “War Office,” as it were, of China—our Intelligence Department, with the aid of interpreters, who were plentiful, might have paid a visit to this place, where documents of no mean importance might have been discovered, and much information obtained which might have proved useful. But no. On the contrary. They seemed to experience difficulty in distinguishing between what was really important and what was not. Here is an instance.

A missionary gentleman, who was as conversant with Chinese as he was with English, having prowled into the [Pg 226]Viceroy’s buildings and discovered some papers of great value, immediately went to notify the British authorities, to whom he generously offered all the documents with the annexed translations. He was in return treated far from civilly.

Previous to the occupation of the Palace by the Russians, the Chinese mob was allowed to do all the looting it liked inside, and at last orders were given to clear out all the papers in the offices, as the buildings were to be used for barracks. Some eighty coolies with as many brooms were despatched with instructions to sweep out into the canal all that there was in the Yamên.

I thought it might prove interesting to go and see the place before the order was entirely carried out.

The Yamên was approached by a short, narrow road along the canal, upon which some four or five bomb-proof shelters, well sandbagged, had been constructed. The entrance was through a court with the usual wide-open-mouthed, curly-tailed sea-lions at either side of the gate, and in one corner one’s attention was at once drawn to a heap of Mannlicher, Mauser and Winchester rifles, which had been captured and rendered useless by the Russians. A pretty cannon with its breech broken lay on one side, and close by another heap of single and two-handed swords, spears, and tridents, as used by the Boxers. The Russians were in temporary possession of the premises, and they readily gave me permission to enter and inspect anything I chose.

Court after court was entered, the apartments and offices of the Viceroy and officers standing around the various courts, which were handsomely ornamented with quaint plants, bronze vases, high lanterns, and incense-burners.

Let us enter the part of the building which was used as the War Office. A pile of large books thrown on the floor [Pg 227]caught my sight. I opened them. They were drill-books for the Chinese army, some for the artillery, some for the infantry, others for the cavalry. The various exercises and drills were fully demonstrated in coloured pictures, a few of which I have reproduced on the fly-leaves of this book.

Further on was another neat pile of smaller volumes. They were the log-books of the various men-of-war, kept in the most accurate fashion day by day, according to European fashion, and up to the day of the capture of Taku.

There were also foreign scientific books on explosives, on navigation, on gunnery, on chemistry, on machinery of all kinds, and endless photographs of big guns, rifles and projectiles of every possible pattern. Maps and charts in Chinese were lying pell-mell everywhere, and beautiful models of warships were smashed and thrown into one corner.

I passed on through court after court into the Foreign [Pg 228]Office. The confusion here was even greater than in the previous department, as all the papers of minutes, mainly consisting of correspondence, in long white and red envelopes sprinkled with gold, were here. These envelopes lay about a foot deep all over the floor. Coming from the brilliant sunlight, I had not seen what I was treading on. Under my feet were some handsomely bound books. I stooped and opened one. It was nothing less than the original treaty between the Chinese and British Governments, and bore the signature of Li-hung-chang and Sir Thomas Wade.

I picked up the next. The treaty of Tonkin between the French and Chinese. A third. A treaty between Japan and China. And so on.

A number of coolies entered and began to sweep all these valuable papers into the canal.

In the Viceroy’s rooms were found the most astonishing documents referring to the Boxer movement.

We have seen how Mr. Carles telegraphed to Lord Salisbury that the Viceroy’s conduct had been very correct, and how thereupon instructions were at once sent out to afford the worthy gentleman all help and protection. It is possible that he may have been dragged into infamy by others, and by Imperial orders; but here let me give you the translations and one or two photographs of documents which speak for themselves.

Probably more curious and the most revolting of all was the receipt by which it appeared that the “Female Boxer Society” had presented the head of a foreigner to the authorities, for which gift the Viceroy had handed over 50 taels.

This receipt was written on a yellow paper slip, and had [Pg 229]been given by some old medicine woman—a kind of witch—who lived in a junk on the river.

Captured guns were each apparently reckoned at half the value of foreign devils’ heads.

“June 19. Reward to Major Cheng-kuo-Chun for capturing two guns (American), 50 taels.”

“June 19. Reward to Lien Chun for fighting at Tientsin. Three ying, forty-six officers, 10 taels each; 1455 men, 4 taels each. Total, 6280 taels.”

Here is another document showing that the decapitation of foreigners was encouraged:

“June 21. (5th moon, 25th day.) Document written on red paper. Receipt given by Colonel Wan-Yi-T’sai, of the Lien Chün Chili field forces, for two heads of foreigners (American marines), 100 taels.”

The largest rewards were paid for any trifling victory scored by the Chinese, or even for the display of courage enough to meet the enemy. Many of these rewards, it will be noticed, were paid to officers in the Imperial army.

“Reward to Lieutenant Hu-Tien-Chia (7 yings) for their victory over the enemy for three successive days, June 21, 3500 taels.”

“Reward to one of Nieh’s men for capturing a foreign rifle, 6 taels. Paid on June 23, by order of General Hsü.”

This document, like many others, had several drops of candle-grease on it, and by its date fully proved that fighting was done in the day, and immediate cash payment made at night.

“June 24. 5000 dragon dollars borrowed by Hu-Tien-Chia (General in General Nieh’s army), of the Wu-Wei-Chün.”

“June. Paid to the transport agent, U-Kui-Ch’a (2 ying, 1020 men), 400 taels.”

“June 29. Receipt from General Nieh for 60,000 taels to pay the allowance for the 5th moon to the Wu-Wei-Chün (name of the corps).”

A list of articles supplied to the Boxers by the Government and paid for by General Chü:

“Yellow and red silk, 60 pieces; red foreign cloth, 22 pieces; best satin for jackets, 10 pieces; red crape, 4 pieces; white crape, 1 piece. Dated 6th moon, 3rd day (or June 29).”

This was a white document with a red strip on the right corner, and stated that money had already been received for the above goods to the sum of 600 taels.

Judging by the amount of cash that passed through his hands, Lieutenant Hu-Tien-Chia seemed to have distinguished himself on many occasions. Two further large payments were registered in his name.

“July 1. Reward to Lieutenant Hu-Tien-Chia, of the Wu-Wei-Chün (5 yings), for a victory over the foreigners, 2500 taels.”

“July 2. Reward to Lieutenant Hu-Tien-Chia, of the Wu-Wei-Chün, 5 yings (a camp of 500 men), 10,000 taels.”

This document, too, had several drops of candle-grease on it, showing that these transactions were carried on at night, when ready money was paid.

Such receipts as the following could leave little doubt in the minds, even of the most sceptical, that Boxers were from the beginning supported by the Government.

“Receipt from the Prefect of Tientsin given to the Viceroy for 24,066 katties of best white flour supplied in 26th year of Kwang-su, 6th moon (July 1900), to Wang-Cheng-Teh, the general leader of the Boxers (Tung-dai), a military organisation of volunteers.”

“July. Receipt from General Chou-Ting-Ch’en for pacifying money to the Viceroy, 7000 taels.”

A receipt from General Ma for an unspecified sum to reward soldiers who had fought in Tientsin.

Also another receipt from the same General for 40,000 taels for rations for soldiers.

“Reward to the police at the Viceroy’s Yamên, also spies, &c., 50 taels.”

“Reward to Lien Chün cavalry, 2 ying; 9 officers, 11 taels each; 206 sergeants and men, 5 taels each.”

“Receipt for the money to be paid to 210 men (70 to be added to each ying) of the Lien Chün for carrying communications, despatches, &c., and for artillery work, 609 taels.”

“July 4. Reward for bravery in facing the enemy to the ever-victorious General Pien, 500 taels.”

“Also to two subordinates, Huai Lien (belonging to Huai Lien army), 200 taels.”

“July 4. Reward for bravery in facing the enemy to General Chou-T’ing-Ch’en, commanding three yings, 1500 taels.”

It is to be remarked that rewards grew bigger as time went on and the Allies were gaining ground.

“July 4. Reward for bravery in facing the enemy at Ma-Chia-k’ou (a place near Tientsin), to Major Wan-Yi-T’sai (Lien Chün), 500 taels.”

This is the same man who, in June, received a reward for the heads of two American marines.

Then I saw a most interesting record of orders issued by the Viceroy. The document ran:

“The Viceroy has verbally commanded that the following Generals are to rewarded for courage in meeting the enemy: General Pien (ever victorious), 500 taels; Major Jang, 500 taels; Major Joe, Major Wang, and Major Lu, 500 taels each; General Doh (in charge of three camps, 1500 men), 500 taels for each camp, or 1500 taels in all; Major Jih, 200 taels; 7th moon (July), 8th day.”

A list was found of Boxers killed and wounded in their encounters with foreigners. This document was on red paper, and appended was the receipt for 3550 taels paid by the Government as a reward to those injured, and to the families of the deceased—100 taels for each man killed, and 30 for each wounded. This document bore the date of the 6th moon (July), 15th day, or three days before Tientsin was [Pg 233]taken. Other documents found showed that the sum of 100 taels for each man killed, and 30 for each man wounded, was the recognised reward paid by the Government, through the Viceroy, to the Boxers.

A great many similar documents were found, bearing the date of the 11th of the same moon.

“July 9. Reward to General Chi-Ying-Shan’s men (artillery), 200 taels and 50 taels.”

All these orders were recorded in the Viceroy’s book as having been verbally given during the night by the Viceroy himself to his Military Secretary.

Another document showed that, on petition, a sum of 100 taels was granted to the families of two men killed by British shells while guarding the armoury in the city, and 30 taels each to three men who were wounded on the same occasion. (This document was dated 6th moon, 14th day, or four days before Tientsin was taken.)

It would take too long to reproduce here the hundreds [Pg 234]of such papers found. I have limited myself to giving a selection of representative ones.

Interesting was the last entry in the Viceroy’s day-book, showing that the last payment made by him—the handsome sum of 10,000 taels, to the head Boxer, Chang-Teh-Cheng—occurred only on the day before the city of Tientsin was captured by the Allies. The entry bore the date 6th moon, 16th day (July 12).

Evidently matters were getting desperate, and there was no more time to keep accurate accounts of moneys disbursed on behalf of the Government.

Yu-lu’s doings—A Proclamation—Banishment and blows—Fencing and boxing—Children of the Government—Pardon for past faults—Christians and Missionaries—Emperor’s sarcasm—A message to Queen Victoria—England and China.

Whether acting on his own initiative or under secret instructions from the Throne—it matters little to the reader which—the fact is proved that Yu-lu, the Viceroy of Chili, was providing arms, ammunition, and food to the Boxers, while issuing edicts and proclamations, such as the one here appended, which were calculated to put foreigners off their guard.

To do him no injustice, I reproduce one of his last proclamations in full. It may be noticed that the punishment of one hundred blows, usually inflicted for petty theft, was hardly adequate for what was then regarded as the crime of rebellion; nor, probably, would any one else in Tientsin, except the British Consul, have found the behaviour of the Viceroy “quite correct” in offering to pardon men guilty of wholesale murder and theft for past faults.

The Viceroy’s proclamation, after setting forth an Imperial edict issued early in the year, went on to say:

A quaint document was the telegram sent by the Emperor of China to Her Majesty Queen Victoria.

A subtle tone of sarcasm runs through it from beginning to end, but especially in regard to the aims of foreign nations who “might be tempted to exploit or despoil” his Empire.

Missionaries—Good and bad—Christianity at the point of the sword—Under a terrific strain—Missionaries and the Boxer movement—A political as well as a religions movement against all foreigners alike—Providence and machine guns—Practical missionaries wanted—Timothy Richards—A power in himself—Missionary refugees—In fancy dress—Undisguised merriment of the Chinese.

It is the general impression that, during the recent war, the Chinese have been treated with unnecessary harshness by the Allies, “for, after all,” I have often heard people exclaim, “the Chinese did no further harm than murder the German Minister, and that might have happened anywhere.” Again, people who know slightly better will argue that, if one or two missionaries have been killed, that is their own fault, for it is no business of theirs to go to foreign countries to worry the natives. This is all very well, but whatever one’s personal feelings may be towards tactless and incompetent heralds of the faith of Christ in distant lands, one cannot help being shocked and revolted at the barbarity with which men, women, and children of one’s own blood have been treated by the Chinese. Besides, there were among these martyrs many—indeed, the majority—who were far from tactless and incompetent, and were even held in great esteem for the good they had done [Pg 241]to the natives, whether converts or otherwise, by supplying them with food, medicines, and medical advice.

There are in China, as in every other heathen country, good missionaries and bad ones. The bad ones generally seem to escape unhurt. Nor would there be much ground of complaint if the heathens, in their desire to settle disputed points of religion, would limit themselves to killing outright the male portion of those who try to convert them, after the fashion which I have heard advocated on several occasions during the present war by missionaries who declare that Christianity should be spread through China at the point of the sword. In fact, in a lecture given by a distinguished missionary, he expressed his opinion that every Chinaman should be seized, and should have the choice given him of becoming a Christian or having his head cut off.

It must be admitted, however, that when the eminent [Pg 242]missionary spoke in these terms he was speaking under a terrific strain, for, after giving up forty years of his life to educate, to help, to defend the Chinese, and after being their devoted friend and protector in the most trying circumstances, he had now been abandoned by them, his house and property destroyed, and even the graves of his dearest belongings had been desecrated and the bones scattered to the winds. In such circumstances one could hardly blame him for expressing such strong views; and, indeed, those who knew what prompted the feelings of the much-respected orator felt that those particular Chinese who could perpetrate such outrages should not even have the option of becoming Christians left them.

But, on the other hand, as there are missionaries and missionaries, there are also Chinese and Chinese, and, as in the case of missionaries, it is usually the good ones that suffer, while the bad ones get away unpunished. This was certainly the case in the Chinese War.

People go too far when they declare that the Boxer movement was brought about entirely by missionaries. It was a political and religious movement, directed against all white men and their civilisation, their books, their railways, their telegraphs, their ships, and everything belonging to them. The missionaries were not attacked because they were missionaries, but because they were foreigners. Railway engineers and their wives, traders and merchants, were similarly attacked, regardless of their position. The missionaries suffered more in the present war because there were swarms of them all over the Chinese Empire, in places in the interior, difficult of access, where they lived defenceless and helpless, trusting in God for protection in case of danger. A machine-gun would be a further security, and [Pg 243]in the future the various large mission-houses, hundreds of miles inland, should not be without one.

There is plenty of good work to be done in China by sensible, practical missionaries, not so much in Christianising the natives as in teaching them what is of most consequence in our civilisation, science, art, industries, medicine and agriculture. There are a few men of this stamp already in China, such as that really great and noble man, Timothy Richards, who is beloved and revered in all China. He is a simple, good-humoured, tactful, and absolutely sensible man, of exquisite intelligence, and he has done more practical good in China than probably any other missionary in the country. He is a power in himself. To him the Chinese owe the translation and publication in their own tongue of our greatest literary, religious, and scientific works, which have been faithfully rendered, and are now studied by hundreds of thousands of Chinese. It is extraordinary how the younger Chinese have taken to reading these publications, all leading to the moral and intellectual improvement of the race; and, indirectly, it has been this great desire among the younger generations to know more, to know all that “foreign devils” know, which has alarmed and aroused the Buddhist Lamas, who exist only through the degradation and ignorance of the country. It is the fear that these books, eagerly bought and circulated among the Chinese, should gradually open the eyes of the better classes to the trickery, bigotry, and corruption of the bonzes, that has driven these to make one supreme effort to drag the whole Empire back into its former state of hermit seclusion, in order that they themselves might once more prosper, like parasites thriving on helpless victims.

It is men like Richards who are needed in China—men [Pg 244]who have the courage of their opinions, men who can speak and write Chinese as well as their own tongue, and have brains and tact enough to discuss and forcibly argue on any subject with the natives—who, it must be remembered, can, when it comes to arguing with real sound sense, give points to most Europeans.

It is by impressing them with his theories—not by asking them to accept them—that Richards gains his power over the Chinese; he shows them what is good in our civilisation, where we are more advanced than they, with their long-established but obsolete culture; and he proves to them that he is right, not by aggressive methods, too often used by missionaries, or by demanding that his statements must be taken for granted, but by bringing forward parallels and examples that they cannot refute.

But Timothy Richards is a highly cultured man; he is a man of the world, and, above all, he is humane. There are indeed few, if any, missionaries like him.

In these moments of distress the treaty ports were swarming with missionary refugees. Take Shanghai, for instance. It almost made one’s heart bleed to see the number of overgrown, round-backed, anæmic, long-toothed, weak-chinned men and women masquerading in Chinese clothes up and down the Bund, with swarms of children round them, in perambulators, on bicycles, on wheeled horses, or carried in arms—usually by a meek-looking male parent. The majority of British and American missionaries of the stronger sex seem to possess fair or red hair, which they match more or less accurately by a long, fat pigtail of a bright golden or glowing auburn tinge, according to circumstances, which hangs (from a seam in the cap, instead of from the scalp, as it should do according to the laws of nature) down the back [Pg 245]to the heels over their silk disguise. This fancy-dress costume is now very largely adopted by British and American missionaries, for we are told that, in assimilating themselves to the natives (to whom nothing could be more unlike), the missionaries gain much influence over the latter. Personally, I have noticed only undisguised merriment among the Chinese as the disguised foreigners went by.

The missionary women in Chinese clothes, fortunately, look less ridiculous than their men, probably because they are generally smaller; yet it seems incomprehensible that, in going to a country to convert people, they should themselves adopt customs and costumes which in others they condemn as barbarous.

A more important error—A painful sight—Chinese clothes without the appropriate etiquette—The historical Japanese lady and her misfortunes—The question of general capacity—Christian work in the East—The crime of sending unprotected young women in the interior—Money wasted.

The matter of clothes, however, would be a small one. It is to a further and more important error that I wish to refer. This is a criminal error, made, not only by missionaries, but by those good people at home who employ them and send them out. I mean the criminal error of despatching to dangerous and lonely places in the interior of China, without protection or assistance, young, inexperienced girls, who have a most imperfect knowledge of the country, the language, and the customs and manners of the natives.

It has so far been the impression among supporters of missions in the East that, to spread the gospel—and with it civilisation—among the heathen, anybody is good enough. Thereupon, and presumably infatuated by the good they imagine they can accomplish, and partly attracted by the apparently handsome salary offered, a great number of unattractive young women with suburban ideas and education have found their way to the remotest corners of China. There, while faithfully preserving their characteristic Anglo-Saxon [Pg 247]stride and stiffness of body, they parade about in ungracefully-worn Chinese robes, quite as inappropriate and unbecoming to them as European clothes to Chinese or Japanese women. One would suppose it obvious that one should never begin serious work by turning the laugh on oneself, and it is with sorrow, even with pain, that one sees these poor girls of one’s own nationality driven to make themselves ridiculous. Not only are they made ridiculous, they are also looked down upon by the natives, for, with Chinese clothes, Chinese etiquette needs to be adopted to cover endless misunderstandings and avoid insult; for as we ourselves wear clothes appropriate to various seasons and to special occasions, and as we wear our garments in certain recognised ways only—not the wrong way up or inside out—so do the Chinese, and the breach of these complicated rules, very difficult to master in their infinitesimal details, [Pg 248]invariably leads to unpleasantness, offence and contempt—just the three things, one would suppose, that missionaries ought to avoid in trying to earn the respect of the natives.

Much innocent fun has been made in the East over the historical Japanese lady who, meaning to be like a European dame, ordered a complete outfit in Paris, instructing the dressmaker to pack the various garments in the order in which they were to be worn. The case arrived in Tokyo just as the lady was to go to some grand function. The case was hurriedly opened—unluckily, at the wrong end—and the lady consequently appeared at the function wearing her chemise, like a mantilla, on the top of everything else, and causing no small commotion among the European guests.

Well, we laugh at this unfortunate lady, and, in fact, at all Japanese or other natives who have adopted our clothes, which they seldom know how to wear properly; but our missionaries do exactly the same thing in China, and are looked upon with the same scorn by the natives there.

The question of general capacity is even more important. A brain sufficient for the reading of family prayers and the organisation of village charity bazaars, an intelligence not extending beyond the collection of unshapely woollen socks and Tam-o’-Shanter caps, whenever a calamity, no matter of what kind, afflicts the nation, may be an invaluable acquisition in local society, where socks and Tam-o’-Shanters and bazaars and prayers have a recognised place. It is a different matter when this poor brain is sent out to distant lands to preach, instruct, improve, and civilise, to carry a great religion to men frequently of superior social standing, men who understand Nature, know how to reason, and can read us as we could an open book. It [Pg 249]makes all the difference whether we are swimming in a rapid stream with the current or against it. Any weak person can travel speedily in the first instance, whereas in the second it takes a powerful swimmer to make any progress at all.

The same with Christian work in the East. It is great men and women with powerful brains—the greatest we have, if any at all—that ought to be sent out, not those for whom we can find no use at home. One or two highly refined and intelligent men will do more good than twenty incompetent ones.

As for women, the wives of missionaries might be allowed to accompany their husbands, but I maintain that it is criminal to send young women into the interior, where they can do little good, and are absolutely helpless in case of danger. There can be no doubt that there has been danger, and for many years to come there will be, far inland from the coast. In the neighbourhood of foreign treaty ports the question is less important; some kind of pastime must presumably be provided for ladies bent on Christianising, and here protection can always be afforded them.

Shocking outrages, such as have occurred in the Boxer trouble, would be prevented or greatly minimised; huge sums of money, now absolutely wasted, could be spared to do good at home, where it is more needed than in China, and much unnecessary friction could be prevented, making the relations of heathens and foreign devils infinitely pleasanter.

Protestant missionaries massacred—The missionaries at Pao-ting-fu—In the Governor’s Yamên—The Governor’s consideration—Anti-foreign Yu-Hsien—An attack on the Roman Catholic and the American Presbyterian Missions—Sacrificed on the grave of a Boxer leader—Before her mother’s eyes—An offering to the Red-faced God of War—Women Boxers—Reward for their services—The China inland missionaries—A terrible end—Words and facts—American citizens—A general massacre—“New hands”—Pao-ting-fu the centre of the Boxer movement.

It would not be fair to speak so plainly as I have spoken if one had not before one’s eyes such horrible examples of what has been endured by some of these unfortunate creatures directly previous to and during the war of 1900. Besides information which I have myself collected, I was furnished by the China Association with a list of the Protestant missionaries known to have been massacred from the beginning of the Boxer movement to the 11th of September, and a list of those (up to September 26) unaccounted for, as well as of those who were then supposed to be on their way to the coast from the western provinces.

The greatest care was taken in compiling this list, which was verified in every possible way (by the compiler), both by correspondence and interviews with those escaped from [Pg 251]the interior, as well as by information supplied from the heads of the large missionary societies.

From letters written as late as June 20, it was understood that the missionaries at Pao-ting-fu had assembled in the Yamên of the Governor, and that they expected to receive protection. They had faith in the willingness and ability of that high official, and did not deem themselves in danger. Within five days of that date, however, when the Boxers and Imperial army had openly joined against foreigners, the Governor ordered the missionaries out of the Yamên. They did not go, it is believed, without protest, for they knew that, once out of the Yamên gate, all would be over with them. They were forced to return to their homes, where they were attacked by the mob, and most of them were cruelly massacred, undoubtedly by order of the high official, whose duty, under the treaties, it was to protect them, and who, indeed, showed some consideration in not wishing to have them butchered in the Yamên.

Matters were different in the case of the bitterly anti-foreign Yu Hsien, the Governor of the adjoining province of Shansi, whose name has often appeared in preceding chapters, in the correspondence of the British Minister in Pekin.

On June 30 the Boxers attacked the Roman Catholic and the American Presbyterian missions, destroying the premises of both missions by fire. It is not clearly known [Pg 252]how many Catholic missionaries were slaughtered, but of the Americans, Mr. and Mrs. Simcox and three children, Dr. and Mrs. Hodges, and Dr. Taylor, were brutally murdered. All the native Christians that fell into the hands of the mob shared the same fate. Mr. and Mrs. Simcox bravely defended themselves and their children until they were overpowered. They were then bound and dragged three miles away to the grave of a Boxer leader, where they were sacrificed. One of the ladies had been so injured that she could not walk. They carried her. When the ghastly preparations were made for putting them to death, one lady made a most touching appeal to the brutes round her to spare the life of her child, and with sobs and tears implored them to take her life willingly in exchange, but to save her little one. But neither tears, nor sobs, nor prayers moved these ruffians to compassion—on the contrary. Cowardice and cruelty are always found together. The poor innocent little mite was seized and cut down before her mother’s eyes.

Dr. Taylor, who had been of much assistance to natives of all creeds in the neighbourhood, attended faithfully and steadily to the patients in his infirmary until the very last moment, when the mob seized him, dragged him out, and beheaded him. Being well known for the wonderful cures he had made, his head was placed as a sacrifice before the red-faced God of War (the Boxer god) in the Buddhist temple.

Similar occurrences were not uncommon during the Boxer trouble. In fact, in the Viceroy’s yamên in Tientsin we have seen how receipts were found for money paid to women for placing the heads of foreigners before the idols in the temples. These women had formed themselves into a properly constituted and approved society, the object of which was to [Pg 253]allure and then murder and mutilate foreigners, and also to mutilate corpses after battles. For this revolting service the stipulated reward was thirty Tientsin taels, or about four pounds sterling. I have seen with my own eyes the receipts for money paid by the Viceroy from the Government account, and have already given a translation of them in a previous chapter.

The Catholic and Presbyterian missions wrecked, and the missionaries nearly exterminated, there yet remained a few “foreign devils” to be slain, but a heavy rain put a temporary stop to the work of the slayers.

The next morning (July 1) Mr. Bagnall, of the China Inland Mission, was assassinated in a temple in the town, and Mr. Pitkin, who behaved heroically, was shot on the terrace in front of the chapel while defending the two ladies of the mission. His head was at once severed from his body. The fate of Mr. Cooper, of the China Inland Mission, is not exactly known, nor have any details transpired of the death of Mrs. Bagnall and her child. A terrible end, however, awaited the two unfortunate ladies (Miss G—— and Miss M——) of the American Board mission, whom Mr. Pitkin had so bravely defended. They were bound and dragged to the Boxer headquarters. It is not certain how long they remained prisoners nor what they were made to endure at the hands of their cowardly persecutors. But from the accounts of other ladies who found themselves in a similar plight, it is not difficult to imagine what they must have been subjected to and suffered at the hands of these inhuman devils.

When returning from China through America in December, I found that there seemed to be a feeling prevailing in the United States Republic that American citizens had, on every [Pg 254]possible occasion, been spared and respected by the Boxers and Chinese officials. Great publicity was given to this statement, and credit was taken accordingly for the prestige of United States citizenship in every other nation on the face of the globe.

Of the fifteen people brutally murdered on that particular occasion, eleven were American citizens. As we have seen, they had been safe in the yamên of the Governor at Pao-ting-fu until the 20th, and had he wished he could have prevented their massacre; but the very fact that they were driven from his residence to their homes was naturally interpreted by the mob as a sign that they were left at its mercy. The massacre extended over two whole days, but no effort whatever was made by the authorities at any sort of repression, nor at saving or protecting those that had escaped the first day’s slaughter.

The Boxers, according to a telegram which is said to have been sent to his Excellency Sheng of Shanghai, announced that the massacre had been carried out by “Boxers—not many of them—who were principally new hands.” It will be remembered that it was in escaping from this town that a number of the engineers of the Luhan railway, and their wives and children, were attacked by Boxers. Those that fell into their hands were murdered, and their bodies horribly mutilated. In the case of ladies, the bodies were opened from the lower to the upper part of the trunk. Whether this was done before or after death is not known.

Pao-ting-fu and the vicinity have, through the whole trouble, been the centre of the Boxer movement, and, except for the murder of Mr. Brooks in Shantung, it was in this province that the first outrage occurred.

Mr. McConnell’s party—The Governor of Che-Kiang—A friendly magistrate—The cruelty of a Taotai—Tragic end of two ladies—The staff of the American Board Mission at Tai-ku and Fen-chow-fu assassinated.

Very few particulars of the massacre of Mr. McConnell’s party have been allowed to reach the public, but it is proved that, in this case too, the men and children were killed first; married women came after, and lastly, young ladies, who were kept back in carts, and executed some time later.

Two men, six women, and three children, belonging to the China Inland Mission at H’u Cheo, in the province of Che Kiang, were killed. Two of the ladies, Miss Drummond and Miss Manchester, were American citizens.

The Governor of Che Kiang was bitterly anti-foreign. When he received the Empress-Dowager’s edict of June 20, ordering the extermination of all foreigners in China, he lost no time in promulgating it over his province. H’u Cheo is in the extreme south of the province, near the Fuk-kien border.

When the foreign Consuls in Shanghai entered, on behalf of their respective Governments, into an agreement with the southern Viceroys and Governors to maintain law and order in the central and southern provinces and to confine war to [Pg 256]the northern part of China, the Governor of Che Kiang at first refused to join in it. He stated that the Empress’s edict had already been published, and that he would only obey orders from the Court. Eventually, however, hearing that the Boxers were faring unsatisfactorily in the north, he was advised by the southern Viceroys to come over to their side and disobey Imperial orders, which might lead him to disaster.

The edict was recalled, but it was too late. In H’u Cheo, the Chinese magistrate, who was friendly towards foreigners, especially to Mr. Thompson, paid dearly for the little protection he attempted to give them. He, his wife, and children were put to death, and even his yamên was destroyed.

The Taotai, the highest official in the town, was bitterly anti-foreign, so that when orders came from his superior to [Pg 257]exterminate all “white devils,” he asked for nothing better. A mob of ruffians was assembled without much difficulty, and the helpless missionaries were dragged to the presence of the Taotai, who informed the crowd that they could do with them what they chose.

Mr. Thompson died from a spear wound, and his wife and children were beheaded. Mr. Ward, his wife, child, and two ladies were also killed.

Tragic beyond words is the end of two ladies belonging to Mr. Thompson’s station. They were conveyed to a temple, where they were kept for two days and two nights, no details being known of what occurred during that time. They were then killed by having bamboos forced through their bodies, the stick in one case coming out at the mouth.

My informer states that this was related to him as an evidence of the reluctance of the mob to murder them!

A native Christian, escaped from H’u Cheo, reported that he had seen the body of a lady missionary lying under a heap of dirt in the street. He recognised it by a protruding foot with a European shoe on.

Were one to mention all—each case separately—it would make a long list; but it is perhaps well to quote a few more examples of martyrs, and show definitely that the massacres of Europeans were by no means trifling nor unimportant, nor due to some personal spite against particular individuals. The attacks were directed against everybody foreign, regardless of age, sex, and condition.

At Hsia Yi two single ladies were murdered, and at Taiku, in Shansi, three men and three ladies—the entire mission staff of the American Board—were assassinated on the last day of July. The Rev. J. H. Clapp, Mrs. Clapp, Rev. G. L. [Pg 258]Williams, Rev. J. W. Davis, Miss R. Bird, and Miss M. L. Partridge were among the killed.

All the members of the American Board Mission at Fen-Chow-fu, in Shansi, together with three members of the China Inland Mission who were visiting at that station, were killed. They had barricaded themselves in the house of Mr. Price, where the first riot occurred, but were apparently unable to hold out. They attempted to escape. In a party of three men, four women, and three children, they left the city under an escort offered them of Chinese soldiers whom they trusted. Once out in the open the soldiers of the guard fired on them, and they were all killed.

Other missionaries, including several ladies and children visiting friends in that same town, shared a similar fate. They also belonged to the American Board Mission.

There can be no doubt that the soldiers of the guard acted under direct orders from their officers.

The escape from Ping-yuo—The Empress-Dowager’s edict—A stout resistance in the Baptist Mission—Persecution and extortion—Mobbed and stripped of everything—Driven before a yelling crowd—Led to the execution ground—Interesting resemblance—Shocking death—The sad end of two American young ladies—Carried before the Temple oracle—A fearful ordeal—A wit—Treated as common criminals.

Perhaps even more harrowing in its details is the account of the experiences of Mr. E. J. Cooper’s party of missionaries in their attempt to escape from Ping-yuo, in the province of Shansi. There were in the party Mr. and Mrs. A. B. Saunders and four children; Mr. A. Jennings and Miss Guthrie, residents of Ping-yuo; Mr. and Mrs. E. J. Cooper and two children; Miss —— and Miss ——,⁠[10] from Luchang; and Mr. and Mrs. A. E. Glover and two children, and Miss Gates, from Lu-an.

On June 25 a friendly magistrate, who had received orders from the terrible Governor Yu-Hsien to carry out to the letter the Empress-Dowager’s edict, sent a word of warning to the missionaries, advising them to escape at once, or it would be too late. They fled towards Tai-yuen-fu. When only half a dozen miles from this town, they luckily met a [Pg 260]native Christian making his escape towards the south. He entreated them not to enter the town, from which he warned them they could never come out alive.

The Inland Mission and the Roman Catholic premises had already been destroyed by fire, and the Protestant missionaries had taken refuge in the enclosure of the Baptist Mission, where they were making a stout resistance against a savage mob that was now preparing to set on fire the buildings sheltering the defenders. The servants and coolies who were with the escaping party of missionaries were seized by fear and abandoned them, and nothing remained for the party but to return whence they had come. In their hasty departure they had left unprovided with money, and what little they had was extorted from them under various pretexts by fierce natives, who followed them about like hungry hyænas, threatening at every moment to kill them unless they gave up all they possessed. Even for permission to walk along the high road, clothes and some valued personal jewellery were demanded of them. Stripped of everything, half-naked, worn, hungry, and terrified, this party of refugees eventually reached a town called Lu-cheng. Here they were received by Mr. Cooper and the other missionary-residents, who had so far been undisturbed.

Only two days elapsed when this town also became too dangerous for Europeans. They were obliged to make an escape at midnight, with only such clothes and blankets as in their hurried start could be collected together. A donkey close at hand was loaded with the impedimenta, and the party, further increased by the Lu-cheng refugees, hastily steered its way south, meaning to proceed towards the distant Hankow, on the Yangtze River.

Early in the morning, when only thirteen miles off, they [Pg 261]were mobbed, in going through a large village, by some 200 roughs, who demanded money. Enough could not be collected to satisfy them, and the Europeans were attacked, and their bedding and clothes scattered about the road and torn to pieces. Even the clothes and boots that they wore were taken away from them, and men, women, and children were left with nothing more than a loin-cloth or a pair of native drawers. In this appalling condition the unfortunates were driven like sheep before a yelling crowd, their tender skin and flesh getting scorched in the hot sun. Their feet were sore and cut and bleeding, but no mercy could be expected from the horde of bloodthirsty ruffians behind, who showered all sorts of insults upon them, beat them, stoned them, and cursed them. Running on and on along miles of road before their pursuers, they passed through several villages, and as each mob left them another took them in hand.

A more pitiful spectacle can hardly be imagined than that of these frail, half-clothed men and women, bruised and wounded, supporting one another on their aching, bleeding feet, and dragging along after them the crying, frightened children. Food they had none, nor could any be procured, for they were hunted from place to place like wild beasts, their only support for several days being the muddy water of puddles along the road, and the weeds and grass plucked by the roadside.

As if this were not enough, the mob on more than one occasion led them to the execution ground, to be found in every town. The swords with which they were to be beheaded were sharpened before their eyes, and all other preparations for the decapitation were got ready in their presence. The Chinese well know that the mental suffering [Pg 262]endured in witnessing the preparations is infinitely greater than the physical pain of the head being severed. Many people, indeed, die under the severe shock before the executioner has time to accomplish his work. Having personally undergone a similar experience to that of these missionaries, which was, however, carried even further, I can well appreciate what these poor creatures must have undergone during this terrible ordeal. It may be interesting to note the remarkable resemblance of their methods with those of my captors, the Buddhist Lamas of Tibet.⁠[11]⁠

It is said by some that the escort furnished at Haoping fled before the arrival of this unfortunate party at Chi-ches-fu; others state that the soldiers led in the attack.

The terrific heat of the sun so blistered Mrs. Cooper’s breast and shoulders that great ulcers formed, which became filled with maggots before death came to her relief.

Miss —— and Miss ——, owing to the wretched condition in which they were, could not keep up with the rest, and became separated. The mission authorities maintain a strict secret as to the exact date when this occurred, but according to the account furnished by one of the members of the unfortunate party, Miss —— was in the hands of the mob at least seven days for certain, but in her account, given before her death, Miss —— is reported to have said that she had been a captive for a fortnight. This would agree better with the evidence collected, and Miss ——, the second young lady, must in that case have been a week in the hands of the mob. It is stated that Miss —— was outraged by five men and left for dead, while Miss —— had a stick forced up her body, but survived several days. When dying, the latter made an appeal that her name [Pg 263]might not be made public in connection with this horrible maltreatment. Both ladies were American.

These outrages appear to have taken place in the street of a village, and a heavy cart was driven backwards and forwards over Miss ——’s body in order to crush out her life. It is evident that both ladies were supposed to be dead, for their bodies were plastered over with mud as a sanitary precaution, and this is generally done over the nude body.

A mandarin ordered the body of Miss —— to be burnt, but Miss ——, who still showed signs of life was carried to a great temple inside the Fu city. She regained consciousness, and after a whole night spent in incantations the head priests reported to the city magistrate that the oracle, seeing that the gashes on her skull (the brain was exposed) had not proved fatal, had decreed that she was to be spared the finishing stroke. This may have also been an expedient to cause the unfortunate lady more suffering before her death.

After undergoing this fearful ordeal, the survivors eventually reached a city in Honan, and they were immediately brought before the magistrate, who was somewhat of a wit—though his wit was out of place on this particular occasion—and who certainly did not relieve their anxiety by his frank declaration that he was extremely sorry they had not arrived the day before, when he would have had the pleasure of killing them all. He regretted to say that a further Imperial edict had just come, in which former orders were countermanded, and the Empress-Dowager had now decided to spare the lives of foreigners. Sad as it seemed, he must obey.

By order of the Governor of Honan, a brother of the Governor of Chili, the wretched refugees were treated (as [Pg 264]was the case with other parties that passed through the province) as low criminals. They were lodged in the common jail, and fed on prison food.

The Governor was evidently determined to humiliate these white people to the last degree, and to show the ignorant masses that he had power of life and death over them. He impressed upon the crowd the idea that foreigners were nothing better than criminals, and that he would treat them as such.

The evil deeds of Yu-Hsien—Exceptional atrocity—The first riot—Driven to the Yamên—Slaughtered in the Governor’s presence—Adding insult to injury—A general massacre of foreigners and converts—£5000 reward offered for Mr. and Mrs. Piggott’s release—A mistake.

We now come to some of the evil deeds of Yu Hsien, the Governor of Shansi, who was probably the most bitter of anti-foreign Chinese officials, and who, on receipt of the Imperial edict, made haste to carry out the instructions for the extermination of foreigners. He telegraphed the Empress’s orders to all the subordinates in his province, and sent instructions to guard the fords of the Yellow River night and day in order that none might escape, so great was his eagerness that every foreigner within his boundary should be massacred.

It is not, therefore, a marvel that the murders of missionaries at Tai-yuen-fu, this official’s capital in Shansi, took place under circumstances of exceptional atrocity.

The first riot occurred on June 27, when Miss Coombs was killed and Dr. Edwards’ hospital destroyed. A messenger brought this information in a letter written by Dr. Miller Wilson, and sewn into the sole of one of the messenger’s shoes.

On July 9 the Governor, Yu-Hsien, having taken the [Pg 266]precaution to have the gates of the city closed and carefully watched, commanded all the foreigners in the city to appear before him, sending armed soldiers to enforce his orders.

The Europeans, driven to the yamên, were received in audience by Yu-Hsien, who had by his side the Prefect and Sub-Prefect of the province, while a number of servants, five hundred soldiers, and a crowd of murderous individuals, surrounded the foreigners.

When all had been brought up, Yu-Hsien enjoined the Europeans to prostrate themselves at his feet, accusing them of bringing vice, evil, and unhappiness in the Empire of Heaven. There was only one remedy for such evil, and that was to behead them all. The order was to be carried out in his presence.

Two Roman Catholic Bishops and three other missionaries were then led out, and were the first to be decapitated on the spot. Then one and all—men, women, and children—were mercilessly beheaded in the courtyard of the yamên, in front of the hall in which they had been received in audience, and well in sight of the bloodthirsty official. The two children of the American Atwater, whose parents we have followed in their disastrous journey to Honan, were among the victims of this tragedy. According to the statements of soldiers who were present, but who deserted later, these martyrs went to death with astounding courage. To satisfy their superstitious curiosity, the soldiers are said to have pounced on some of the bodies, still throbbing, of these unfortunates, and cut their hearts out for inspection by the bonzes and other learned men.

Insult—no greater could be given in China—was added to injury by taking the bodies outside the city walls and leaving [Pg 267]them to the dogs instead of burying them. Great credit should be given to the local native Christians, who, with admirable pluck and faithfulness, to say nothing of the danger to themselves, surreptitiously secured the bodies by night and buried them. Partly on account of this charitable deed two hundred native Christians were put to death five days later (July 14).

In despatches sent by the local officials to various yamêns it is stated that 37 foreigners and 30 native converts were massacred on July 9; but it is not known for certain whether that figure includes children, or only adults. A report from a city in the neighbourhood of Tai-yuen-fu places the number at 550, quite a number of Yu-Hsien’s officers being so horrified at the Governor’s orders that they sent the foreigners under their charge to him, that he might carry out his vengeance personally.

In the long list of martyrs, Mr. and Mrs. Piggott were presumed to have been murdered at Sheo-yang in July. Their friends in England offered a reward of £5000 sterling for their lives, but although everything possible that might lead to their rescue was done they had not, when I left China, been heard of. The news from Sheo-yang did not mention their names, but merely announced that two foreigners had been killed. As they were probably the only foreigners in the station, the gravest fears were entertained.

In connection with the large reward offered for Mr. and Mrs. Piggott, it was reported that Mr. and Mrs. Duncan Hay were being held for ransom by the Boxers. It was believed that the Boxers, hearing of the large sum of money offered for Mr. and Mrs. Piggott, had mistaken the Duncan Hay couple for them. A most unpleasant error! How otherwise [Pg 268]can the fact be explained that the three companions who were in hiding with Mr. and Mrs. Hay (Mr. M’Kie, Miss Chapman, and Miss May) were released, and were reported, towards the beginning of October, as being en route for the coast?⁠[12]⁠

Massacred Protestant missionaries—Boxer consideration—The warlike qualities of Roman Catholics—Martyrs—Barricaded at Ch’ing-Ting-fu—A gallant defence—Catholics and their converts.

The number of Protestant missionaries massacred by the Chinese in the three months following Mr. Brooks’s murder is put down at 93, or 28 men, 40 women (20 married and 20 single), and 25 children.

Twenty-eight of these were Americans—9 men, 13 women (5 married and 8 single), and 6 children.

As many as 125 people (56 men, 50 women, and 19 children), of whom 54 were American, were still in the interior at the beginning of October, beside 100 more persons in the provinces of Shansi and Chili, about whose welfare considerable anxiety was felt by their friends. None of these people had been heard from (on September 29) since June 13, that is since before the massacres had taken place in Tai-yuen-fu, the capital of the province.

There are instances in which the Boxers, either through fear or because they were held in check by influential people, behaved with less cruelty, and even with consideration and kindness, but these cases were few and far apart.

A Mr. and Mrs. Greene, two children, and Miss Gugg were known to be in the hands of the Boxers at Hsin-an-Hsien, [Pg 270]a town eighty miles from Tientsin. After the relief of Pekin an intimation was at once sent to the officials that, should the lives of these captives be spared, the city would escape destruction at the hands of the punitive expedition, while in the contrary case no quarter would be given to the inhabitants, and their houses would be destroyed without mercy. It was pleasant to hear that the Europeans were still alive on September 1, and that the merchants and leading people in the town had joined in supplying the captives with food and clothes, although they were held prisoners and closely watched by armed Boxers, inside a temple, presumably Buddhist.

The Roman Catholics all over China seem to have displayed warlike qualities quite unexpected in people so religious. As they took up arms solely in self-defence and for their own preservation, the circumstance is much to their credit. It may be that, being more conversant than the English and American Protestant missionaries with the Chinese language, and being more thrown together with the natives of all classes of society, no matter of what creed, the Catholics knew better what was coming and how they would fare in the hands of the Boxers, soldiers, or officials. Therefore, in many cases, instead of trusting blindly to the protection of treacherous officials or soldiers, they preferred from the beginning to make a brave stand for their lives. To those who know the contemptible cowardice of the Chinese and kindred races, it seems possible that many lives might have been saved had the missionaries in every station all joined in a determined fight to keep Boxers and soldiers at bay, as was successfully done in the remarkable defence of the Legations and Pe-tang mission in Pekin.

It is, however, not fair to express an opinion; even [Pg 271]a comparison is hardly just, since it is possible that the Protestant missionaries had no arms or ammunition with which to make a stand, in which case the chances of success of such a defence would be but very small.

Missionaries ought to be law-abiding people, and undoubtedly those who were victims believed they were acting rightly in obeying the hypocritical orders of the various bloodthirsty Governors and magistrates who led them into death-traps. No blame, therefore, can attach to those poor martyrs—for there is no other name for them—who were killed. Considered as peaceful and law-abiding citizens, the missionaries could not have acted better, or in a more conciliatory manner. All the heavier should be the punishment inflicted on the Chinese authorities for their barbarous and infamous behaviour towards men, women, and children of our race.

At Ch’ing-Ting-fu, for instance, all the missionaries—some twenty, all counted—barricaded themselves in the Roman Catholic church, where they made a most gallant defence against the besieging Boxers. They had kept the Boxers and soldiers at bay, but, when last heard of, were running short of food and ammunition, and were begging urgently for relief. Mr. and Mrs. Griffith and Mr. Brown, of the China Inland Mission, were among the besieged. The rest were all Catholics.

Considerable anxiety was felt regarding some twenty-five missionaries, travelling in various directions from Kansul, Yumsan and Kweicheo to places deemed safe; but, although long overdue, it was hoped that all three parties might eventually reach some foreign settlement in safety.

My informant had not the same facilities for getting news about the Catholics, but thirty-five of their missionaries [Pg 272]had certainly been reported massacred, of whom five were bishops, twenty-eight priests, and two Sisters of Charity. Twenty more were massacred in Shen-si, and Shan-si alone, the hotbed of Boxerdom. Painful beyond words was the news that practically all their converts, the result of the patient work of centuries, and of untold hardships and privations, had been murdered. No less than fifteen to twenty thousand native Catholics had been massacred, and whole villages and small towns of Christians exterminated by the Boxers, in the northern provinces and in Manchuria, where Roman Catholicism had made great strides.

Thousands killed—Mr. Gammon’s staff of colporteurs—The American Bible store in Pekin and the Emperor—Chinese translations of religious and scientific books—Prosperous days of the reform party—Demand for foreign books—Mr. Gammon’s ability—A historical wife.

It has not yet been ascertained how many native Protestant Christians and converts were killed during the Boxer movement, but although not quite so numerous as the Roman Catholics, there is no doubt that thousands were massacred.

Take, for instance, Mr. Gammon’s staff of sixteen colporteurs of the American Bible Society store in Pekin, some of whom are represented in front of their premises in the illustration. Fourteen of them were killed. The keeper of the store escaped by taking timely refuge in the Legations.

Mr. Gammon’s store was probably one of the first places to be attacked by the mob in Pekin, as it was widely known and had quite an historical interest. It was from this shop that in 1898, during the period of reform, the Emperor [Pg 274]ordered 140 scientific and religious books, of which 129 were supplied to him, including 89 published in Chinese by the “Society for the Diffusion of Christian and General Knowledge among the Chinese.” Prominent among the translators of these books into Chinese are Timothy Richards, Drs. Williamson, Muirhead, and Faber, and Messrs. Moody and Young Allen. These volumes dealt principally with Christianity. The other forty were scientific books.

The Imperial order was sent direct from the Palace, and great impatience was shown even at the short delay required to send the volumes from Shanghai. A eunuch was sent to inquire every day when the books would arrive, as the Emperor was very anxious to read them, and on reaching Pekin the books were taken immediately to the Palace by a number of eunuchs despatched to the store for the purpose. The Emperor, curiously enough, ordered of the store a classical and a mandarin Bible, and he is said to have studied these books with great interest and care, expressing admiration for the Christian religion.

There is no doubt that, about that epoch, the Emperor assumed a favourable attitude towards Christians and their civilisation, and the reform party then saw its most prosperous days.

There was a great demand for foreign books at that time, and Mr. Gammon himself told me that, in the four northern provinces alone, he and his colporteurs had been selling an average of 47,000 books a year. The influence of the reform party was swiftly spreading, owing to the Emperor’s attitude, and with it Christianity itself; for although not all reformers were Christians, all Christians belonged to the reform party.

Mr. Gammon, himself a gentleman of considerable ability [Pg 275]and enterprise, has been of no mean assistance to the society in the furtherance of their civilising work. He was a good Chinese scholar, and was for three years instructor and drill-master in the Imperial University in Tientsin. His work as superintendent of colporteurs for Northern China kept him constantly travelling all over the provinces in which the Boxer disturbances occurred, and he was among the first to call attention in the American Press to the rapidly-growing importance of the Boxer movement. Having returned late in May from a long journey beyond the Great Wall, he called the attention of the United States Minister to the grave state of affairs prevailing in the region he had visited, and to the insulting and threatening attitude of the natives everywhere towards foreigners and native Christians. It is reported—not by Mr. Gammon, but from other sources—that this information, as well as much more, [Pg 276]was received with patronising hilarity, because it had not been collected by employees of the Legation.

The grim illustration shows the heads of two Boxers beheaded at the West Gate in Tientsin. To the right stands a noted Boxer leader whom Mr. Gammon assisted in capturing and photographing. He was known to have murdered thirty-two people. Some information was needed from him regarding one of the beheaded, and he was led to the execution ground. He was quite calm and composed until he recognised that one of the heads swinging to the left pole was that of his brother. Seized with horror, he trembled and shook, and cried with pain and fear, but a few moments later regained absolute control over himself and said he was now ready to have his own head cut off. It was.

It is due to Mr. Gammon to mention that, during the Tientsin siege, he, with fifty native Christians, served with one of the British 12-pounder guns. Moreover, Mr. Gammon, besides the historical Bible store, possesses a “historical” wife, not that his delightful life-partner is old—on the contrary—but that she was fortunate enough to have escaped, when a child, from the massacre of Tientsin in 1870, and has now escaped from the bombardment of the settlement in 1900.

A journey in the interior—Trappists and Buddhists—Preparations—Money—Men and baggage—The start—A quaint village—A wayside inn—A Christian cook—Interesting Mahommedan inscriptions—An open-air theatre—Steep incline—Miao-fung-shan mountains—A Christian village—A slippery road—Personal interest—When to marry.

As reference will be made later to the Trappist monastery in China, and the sad news was circulating that the “silent monks,” with their proselytes, had all been cruelly massacred by the Boxers, and their premises destroyed, it will not be out of place to reproduce from my diary an account of a journey⁠[13] which I took in 1891 from Pekin to the interior, visiting the quaint monastery of La Trappe en route, where I was the guest of the monks for several days.

A comparison between these Trappists and the Buddhist priests, with whom I also had dealings further inland during the same journey, is left to the reader, and may serve further to corroborate certain statements which I have elsewhere made regarding the depravity of the clean-shaven preachers of Buddha. Even in those days the hatred of the bonzes towards foreigners was apparent, and their unscrupulous conduct hardly less offensive than it is to-day.

I had been in Pekin some time making preparations for a journey to the sacred mountain of Siao-ou-tai-shan, and on this particular occasion these preparations were more elaborate than usual, for the double reason that I was to be accompanied the greater part of the way by two French gentlemen, and that I had not yet quite recovered from the rough journey and accidents which had befallen me in the country of the hairy aborigines of the Hokkaido Islands. In those days, more than now, one of the principal difficulties when travelling in the interior of China was the conveyance of one’s money. One had to carry it in lumps of silver to be broken up and properly weighed for the larger payments—a matter of endless argument and quarrel between buyer and seller—or else one had to be burdened with an appalling weight of “cash,” the small coin known to everybody. It is made of an alloy of copper and tin, and, roughly, there are no less than from one thousand to two thousand pieces to the English half-crown. The coins are perforated in the centre and carried about strung together with cords of plaited straw.

Men and baggage were to be carried on mules’ backs, as most of the journey was to be through the mountainous districts of the Petchili and Shansi provinces, but two donkeys were also taken to carry lighter packages and cooking utensils. Two native muleteers were in charge of the convoy.

On May 19 a start was made at six o’clock in the morning, moving almost due west. Having left dusty Pekin, with its high wall and towers, behind us, we rode gaily through the crowd of carts, beggars, pedlars, horsemen, and bashful women escaping, and children frightened at the sight of “foreign devils.” After winding our way through the squalid habitations of the suburbs, our mules sinking knee-deep alternately [Pg 279]in mud or dust, stared at and remarked upon by everybody, our baggage criticised, and all sorts of inquisitive questions upon its contents put to my attendants, we eventually came into the open country. The signs of careful cultivation nearer the town gradually faded away, and after some miles we travelled mostly over barren stretches of flat land.

We rode through quaint Pali-chuan, a little village encircled by a high wall, and possessing a handsome temple to Tapei-tzu, on the right as one enters the gate. The arrival of foreigners created an excitement in the normally tomb-like quiet of the main street, and the natives rushed to the doors and windows to have a peep at the strangers. A remarkable ancient tower of great interest, staring us in the face, was a marvellous bit of mason’s workmanship, and so was the west gate, which we passed on going out of the village.

For the first six hours we had marched on level ground, but now on reaching Yantia-chuan the ground became undulating, particularly towards the south. At noon we halted at a small, dirty wayside inn (there are no clean inns in China), and as my French companions did not seem anxious to try a Chinese meal, we entrusted the preparation of a frugal repast in foreign fashion to one of the muleteers, who, by the way, professed to be not only a good Christian, but an excellent cook as well. Fresh meat of dubious origin was purchased at the Frenchmen’s request, and the Christian’s cooking abilities were put to a test. He turned out quite a good meal, with the exception that he fried things in vaseline instead of butter, and used Eno’s Fruit Salt when he should have used common salt, which two fatal mistakes nearly led him to a premature death at the hands of my two companions from across the Channel.

“Comment!” shrieked one of the Frenchmen as he shook him by the pigtail. “Tu es un cuisinier Chrétien, et tu ne sais pas distinguer la vaseline du beurre. Mais tu t’en blagues bien, toi, de la Chrétienté!”

After lunch, and none the worse for what might have turned out a disastrous meal, we set out again. We soon came to the first hills and terraces. On a mound stood the pretty little temple of Che-ching-shan. Further on, along the Hunho river, more generally called Yung-ting-ho, we found some interesting Mahommedan inscriptions engraved on stone. We rose higher and higher as we proceeded towards the village of Men-ton-ko, where, on the bank of the river, a fascinating little open-air theatre had been erected, an ideal spot for playgoers, for, if bored by the performance on the stage, there still remained a fine panorama of picturesque scenery all round, which was always pleasant to gaze upon.

The incline was getting steeper and steeper; we passed a number of small villages on the banks of the stream, and here and there, at long intervals, ancient bridges of solid masonry spanned the river. Then the road became tortuous, and wound its way up the hillside like an uncoiling serpent. Our animals being very tired, we dismounted and walked up, dragging them after us, until we reached the pass, where we obtained a magnificent view of the underlying country. To the south the chain of the Miao-fung-shan mountains stood resplendent in all its beauty, with its peaks caressed by the last warm rays of the dying sun; and, in the far distance, towards the south-west, the blue Pohowashan made a lovely background to that beautiful picture of mountain scenery.

Nearly at eight in the evening we arrived at Lieun Shuan, where the French Roman Catholic missionaries had established [Pg 281]a small apothecary’s shop for the use of the Catholic and other natives in the village. As a privilege, we were allowed to sleep in the shop. Near this village, I was told, there were valuable coal-beds, but I did not visit them.

Early the next morning we proceeded down a very slippery road paved with round pebbles, and had great difficulty in keeping our mules and ourselves from falling. The people we came across were very polite and genial, always willing to give friendly advice as to which were the best roads to travel by and the best inns to put up at. They inquired most tenderly after all our relations, and seemed to be keenly interested in our respective ages, nationality, condition in life, state of health, and I do not know what else!

“Your wife,” said an old man to me, “must be very sorry that you are so far away from her, and going through the dangers of travelling in these distant provinces.”

“So young,” he exclaimed in great astonishment, “and you have not a wife!”

“Oh, that is a mistake,” said the old man gravely. “It is a great mistake; a man should always marry when he is young and strong.”

Tai-han-ling Pass—Two tablets—A clean village—Catholics—Lacking repose—A great commotion—Destroyed by the Boxers—A picturesque Buddhist priest—A strange notion—The sitter’s soul—Obnoxious women—Restitution of the missing soul—Infallible remedies and how to administer them.

As we were thus entertained by native wayfarers and their curious theories, we trotted along, went through the Tai-han-ling pass (3020 feet above sea level), and late in the afternoon crossed the summit of the range, where a valuable library of sacred books—ancient and buried in dust—lay forgotten in a small temple. Two tablets, one to Kanshi, the other to Tan Kuang, and a curious small gateway, had also been erected on the highest point of the pass. The descent on the other side was less interesting, except that here and there we had pretty bits of scenery to gaze upon.

Following the valley, we reached the village of San-lieu, a clean little place, 1000 feet above sea level. The reason the village was clean was probably because the inhabitants were all Roman Catholics. With the aid and advice of the French missionaries in Pekin they had built themselves a handsome church, in which they had mass and evening prayers every day. Chinese Catholic priests officiated, and even the harmonium was played by a Chinaman, who naturally played it somewhat à la Chinoise, but still very well considering that [Pg 283]the instrument and the character of the music were absolutely foreign to him.

In coming in contact with these Christians, although one must admire them for what they had done, I could not help again remarking that the converts, wherever one found them, lacked the repose and the stolid, but at the same time gentle, manner of their pigtailed heathen brethren. They always struck one as unsteady, morose, and at times even ill-natured.

They had at first given us the best room in the principal house in the village, but—for what reason I was never able to discover—during the night there seemed to be a great commotion, and we were roughly roused up and bundled into a dingy back room, where we had to spend the remainder of the night. I suspected that possibly the fact that I was not a Roman Catholic might have caused them to act so uncivilly; but it seemed hard in that case that the two Frenchmen, who belonged to their creed, should be so treated.

On my last visit to Pekin, I was sorry to learn that the whole village had been destroyed by the Boxers, and a number of the Christians horribly murdered. The church, I was told, was in ruins.

Following the stream, we halted, after another long day’s journey, at Tu-thia-chuang.

The inn at this place was somewhat better than the usual accommodation one gets in the smaller towns in the interior of the Celestial Empire—which, indeed, only deserves that title to Celestials. Crowds of people assembled when we arrived, just before sunset, and among the swarm of curious onlookers I perceived the striking head of a picturesque old Buddhist priest. After a long confabulation and a few strings of cash which I deposited [Pg 284]in his hands, I induced him to sit for his portrait, and dashed off a sketch in oils before he had time to change his mind. Unfortunately, as is always the case on such occasions, failing a proper studio, the painting had to be done out in the open, which caused a large crowd of loafers to collect round model and artist, making a nuisance of themselves to both. The women were particularly obnoxious, for they began to scold the old priest for his rashness in sitting. There is a strange notion prevailing in China, and, in fact, nearly all over the continent of Asia, that if an image is reproduced in painting or sculpture, a soul (or, to use their words, “life”) has to be given to it. The person portrayed has to supply the soul by transferring his own into the image—a necessity which, to any one who believes in it, must be distinctly uncomfortable. But apparently the Buddhist priest, who approved these superstitious ideas in others, knew better when he himself was concerned. Therefore he sat tight, with a sly twinkle in his eye, and the strings of “cash” jealously nursed on his lap.

On my side, I immortalised him with due speed on a wooden panel, and he sat right through as motionless as a statue, deaf to the warnings of the excited females around.

“You will die!” cried an old harpy to him. “I saw your soul come out of you and go into the picture. Indeed, I saw it with my own eyes!”

By the time the poor priest had got up they had almost convinced him that at least half his soul had really gone out of him. He was feeling himself all over, and actually began to be conscious—or so he said—that something had gone [Pg 285]wrong with him. Being a sensible man, however, whether his soul had gone or not, he first went home to deposit the cash for safe keeping. A complaint for the restitution of his missing soul might come after.

Well suspecting what was coming, I went into my room the moment the bonze, followed by the crowd, had departed, and packed the sketch safely, then took a second clean panel and smeared it with the scrapings of my palette so that I might be able to play a trick should the bonze return to have the picture destroyed.

Twenty minutes had hardly elapsed when he was back again, of course without the “cash.” He held his stomach with both hands and complained of internal agony.

“I am going to die,” he cried on getting near; “you have taken away half my soul!”

“Certainly I have,” said I, sternly; “you did not expect me to give you all that ‘cash’ for less than half your soul, did you?”

“Oh, no,” he retorted, meekly; “but I wish it back, as I now feel so bad without it.”

“All right,” said I, “I shall go into the room to destroy the painting; will you then be satisfied?”

Here the second panel, smeared with palette scrapings, was produced, after I had made pretence of destroying the presumed picture on it with a knife.

The expression of relief on the priest’s face was well worth seeing. It would be impossible to depict it. He may not have felt so clearly that half his soul had passed out of him, but there was no doubt that he had plainly felt it coming back. He was now perfectly well again.

This magic cure gave us all a very busy evening. It is [Pg 286]fatal to the prestige of a foreigner travelling in the interior of China not to suggest some infallible remedy or other when asked. To pronounce a malady incurable is to bring contempt on our inferiority to the priesthood of the country, who are supposed to cure anything. All the villagers who had complaints of any sort came to us to be restored to sound health. A leper who had lost all his fingers wished us to make them grow again. He was advised to dip them in water and salt for fifteen days, when on the morning of the sixteenth day he would notice a change. This he took to mean that they would begin to grow a second time, while we expected that in sixteen days no less a distance than 400 miles would separate us from that village. A pitiful case of a child, only a few months old, was also brought up, whose mother, while busy stirring boiling water in a big cauldron, had dropped the child in by mistake. He was so badly scalded that, although I attempted to relieve his pain by smearing him all over with the vaseline that had not been used in the cooking, I fear that he cannot have lived more than a few hours.

Magnificent scenery—The great wall—The towers of Tung-an-tzu—The Trappist monastery—A secluded valley—Father Maurus—Silence—No converts—A vegetable lunch—Simplicity and happiness—Adopted customs—Accused of concealing firearms—Novices and fathers—All thoughts to the Lord—A Manchu father.

We made an early start the next day, and by ten o’clock we went through Shan-lung-men. Going through the pass the scenery was magnificent. We were following the river bed, and had high mountains on both sides. Then we came in sight of a portion of the Great Wall. There was a huge tower on one side of the river, and a long stretch of wall built on the steep slope of the mountain; on the other side of the river was the continuation of the wall.

From this point the incline became very steep, and we had some three hours’ very stiff climbing to reach the summit of the mountain range. We were travelling in a westerly direction. The view obtained from the high point reached was superb. On one side chain after chain of mountains of pure cobalt blue, on the other the high Hsi-ling-shan peak and a fertile valley. A long distance away in a southerly direction one could just discern against the bright sky-line the towers of Tung-an-tzu and another portion of the wall, while below, in the fertile valley, signs of agriculture and a [Pg 288]large enclosure were visible. On the nearest hills, landmarks in the shape of large crosses had been put up, to show that the ground within the boundary belonged to the Christian order of the Trappists.

The descent from our high point of vantage occupied two hours. It was nevertheless quicker work than the ascent, and as we drew nearer the walled enclosure we found ourselves among well-planned plantations of apricot trees—a surprise refreshing to the eye in these almost uninhabited and wild regions.

The valley, in the centre of which the Trappists have settled, is divided in two by a limpid stream and surrounded on all sides by high mountains. For picturesqueness of landscape and fertility of soil, the silent monks could have selected no more delightful spot upon which to build their abode, and they certainly do not lack seclusion, which is the aim of their “existence” (I could not say “life”), and which they had no difficulty in finding in these deserted regions.

The building was simple and solid, and a high encircling wall protected the penitent fathers from robber neighbours, as well as from the attacks of leopards and tigers, which are numerous in the district.

I went in and was received most kindly by Father Maurus, a Frenchman, the only one of them who by the rules of their order is permitted to speak.

“Everything is silence in the convent,” he said. “No one is allowed to speak but myself.” And he certainly spoke enough for himself and for all the others.

He took me round to see the different parts of the convent, and en route he told me that only four survived of the ten or more that had come out from France. The others had succumbed to illness and hardships. They had now [Pg 289]been there ten years, and had only seen three Europeans during that time.

“But who built all these houses, the church, the porticoes, and wall?” I inquired.

“We did,” he replied, “with the help of some Chinese and Mongols, several of whom have now joined the order. We do not make converts, and only bring ourselves forward as an example to others. Chinese are fond of self-inflicted penance, and many apply and are willing to join us in our great work. They find it difficult at first to keep perfectly silent, but they soon get into the habit, and we are very much pleased with them. They are good, obedient, and willing. We have about forty, though only a few of them have been ordained fathers; in due time, however, let us hope that they will be. At present most are novices and boys. Won’t you come and eat something, as you must be very hungry and tired? We have little to offer you, for we are poor and far from civilisation, but will gladly give you what we have.”

He gave me a delicious lunch, consisting entirely of vegetables cooked in different ways, and among other things he pressed me to drink some white wine of their own make, which was rather pleasant to the taste.

“We are vegetarians,” Father Maurus added; “but we are allowed to drink wine, and we do so, taking the small cup in both hands and then swallowing the contents. We cannot smoke, for that is not a necessity of life. We never speak, not even to each other, except in case of serious illness, as we wish to give all our thoughts to God.

“We live simply, and are quite happy. We have given up all luxuries of the world, and all our implements are of the commonest kind. We eat with iron forks and spoons, [Pg 290]and we have three meals a day, except on fast days, when we only have one very light meal. Our lunch is the largest meal we have, and consists of a bowl of soup and two small dishes of vegetables; at dinner we have less. We rise at 2 A.M. on week-days, when we hear the sound of the church bell. One of the fathers is commissioned to ring this bell, and should he be even a few minutes late he has to undergo a punishment; if it be not altogether his fault, he has to eat his dinner kneeling down; but under other circumstances he has to accuse himself before the ‘capitole,’ and kneel outside the dining-room and do without his meals that day. However, this happens very seldom, as we all do our best to fulfil our duties conscientiously.

“On Sundays the bell is rung at 1 A.M., but we generally have one hour and a half’s rest in the afternoon.

“We go to rest at 8 P.M., and we sleep with our clothes on, as in Easter week and on other holidays, for example, we rise many times during the night, go to the chapel to say our prayers, and then return to our cells. In winter, when the snow is deep, this is not so pleasant as in summer, because we have to cross the large yard. We used to wear sandals, like the Franciscans, but, owing to the severe climate, we have adopted Chinese shoes, which we find answer our purpose much better.

“As you see, we also grow a pigtail, like the Chinese, though mine has never grown more than a few inches long,” he said apologetically.

“But, Father Maurus,” I said, “does it not strike you that instead of the Chinese following your customs, you fall in with those of the Chinese?”

“Oh!” he retorted, “we do not make converts. We are not missionaries, and if we have adopted some Chinese customs [Pg 291]it is only because we find that our neighbours respect us more.”

“Not now. We had when we first arrived, and even three or four years ago. While we were building the wall round our garden and houses we were accused of concealing guns and other firearms, which, our accusers said, were to await the arrival of a large band of ‘white devils,’ who intended conquering a great part of China. The mandarin of the province, with many soldiers and followers, unexpectedly arrived, and searched every nook within the walls of our monastery, but found nothing. Being thus convinced that we had no hostile intentions towards him, nor any of his countrymen, and astonished at the kind manner in which we received him, he left us, and we have never seen him since.

“Il avait l’air d’être un très brave monsieur,” added Father Maurus. An astonishing fact for a Chinese mandarin.

“The villagers around us are very good, and most of them have become Christians. Hu-tzia-ku, a village only a few miles from here, is entirely Roman Catholic, and many of the younger folk mean to join us. We take them as boys, and after some years they become novices; when well prepared for the holy life which we strive to lead they are made fathers. When, however, this last step is taken there is no withdrawing from it, and you are a Trappist till it pleases the Lord to call you back to Himself. Novices and boys can leave the convent whenever they choose.

“Our great idea is to give all our thoughts to the Lord. We think of Him when we eat, when we till the ground, and when we read. The only books that we read are books of prayers. We have to cultivate the ground or else we [Pg 292]could not live. We grow potatoes principally, and we have a plantation of apricot-trees. We have a Manchu cook, a father, whom we have trained, and in a few minutes you will try his cuisine. He is a clever man, and has learnt Latin since he has been with us, while he was a novice.”

While this conversation was going on, a shortish man, with oblique eyes, high cheek-bones, and slanting forehead, appeared on the scene, carrying a huge bowl of soup in one hand and an enormous dish of fried potatoes in the other.

“Voilà votre dîner, monsieur,” said Father Maurus, “and the Manchu father will bring you nuts and honey when you have eaten this. Here are also several bottles of the wine that we make, and let us hope that you will like it. I must go now, as it is my prayer time.”

Latin and cookery—Shepherds—The Manchu’s new creed and cooking utensils—Salad, honey, and jujubes—Wild animals—The Trappist and the leopard—A saintly life—Gentle Christians—Hostility towards the Trappists—The Chief of the village—Suggestive pictures.

The Manchu father kept silent for some time, and stood watching every movement I made. At last he could not resist the temptation, and, breaking the vows he had sworn to obey, began a Latin conversation with me, the subject being the quality, size, and cooking of the fried potatoes, and the bad success of the soup, with consequent apologies. I tried to console him, and said that I found everything delicious.

It was strange, indeed, to be talking of fried potatoes in the Latin language, with a Manchu cook, in a French Trappist convent in Chinese Mongolia!

I must confess, however, that the Manchu was better up in Latin than I was. He could talk it as fluently as his own language. Only now and then he would put in some Manchu word to fill up gaps. He was an interesting man, and very talkative, now that he had once begun. He had been wandering, poverty-stricken, all through Manchuria, and, coming south, fate had led him to the monastery. He begged for [Pg 294]shelter, which was immediately accorded him. The proceedings of the fathers interested him, and he asked to remain with them. For several years he was a novice, but such was his goodwill, perseverance, and quiet demeanour that he was ordained a father. He enjoyed doing the cooking, for, he said, it was not such rough work as cultivating the ground, or looking after goats and cows, of which the Trappists have quite a number.

“There, you see,” he said, pointing towards the hill-side, “there is one of our shepherds, a novice. You can see him; he has a large straw hat on.”

I ventured to ask him whether he liked his new religion better than his former one, and he said he did. He was unaware before, that by leading a saintly life (I should call it a lazy one), man could earn happiness in the life to come. He felt a different creature since he had joined the Trappists, and was happy with his new creed—and cooking utensils.

Like all Eastern people, he possessed a keen sense of humour, and his conversation, in Latin and Manchu, was getting more and more interesting, when we heard the sound of steps.

“Father Maurus is coming, I must keep silent; please do not say that I spoke.” And, bowing to Father Maurus as he entered, he retired to his kitchen.

Salad, honey, and dried “jujubes” were then placed on the table, and I enjoyed them thoroughly.

“One of our little dogs is going to die,” began Father Maurus. “We have two of them, and their mother was killed by a leopard a few months ago. We are often troubled by wild animals, especially in winter. Panthers, leopards and tigers are numerous in the neighbourhood, and they often visit us, bearing away with them our goats, and even [Pg 295]our dogs. One beautiful moonlight night, when the ground was still covered with snow, I heard strange noises in the garden. The dogs were barking furiously, and one of them seemed in great distress, judging from his howling. A window of the dormitory overlooks the garden, and creeping along the wall I went to see what was the matter. My hair almost stood on end when, close to the window, I saw, not many yards from me, a huge leopard eating up one of our dogs. I did not dare to move or call for help. I was nearly paralysed with fright. You will agree with me,” added Father Maurus, “that a few panes of glass are not much protection against visitors of that kind. As things turned out, and with the help of our Lord, the leopard seemed satisfied with his meal, and, after having taken a turn round our premises, gracefully jumped over the wall and disappeared. So our lives were spared,” and he made the sign of the cross while saying so.

The Trappists possessed 800 hectares of ground, which they purchased from the Roman Catholic missionaries, who induced them to come out from France to serve as an example to intending imitators. Though not making converts directly, they were the means, as it were, of getting natives converted to the faith of Christ, by showing them how to lead a saintly life.

They had certainly been successful. They had been there at Yan-Kia-Ku more than ten years, and during that time all the inhabitants of the neighbouring village of Hu-tzia-Ku had accepted the Roman Catholic religion, and their children were brought up in that faith. However, this village only numbered about forty houses, and certainly not more than one hundred people, so that at its best, when one compared these hundred souls to four hundred millions (the [Pg 296]population of China), most people will agree that the success of the Trappists might have been correctly described as a drop of water in a vast ocean.

I must say in their favour that their followers at Hu-tzia-Ku, though not numerous, were certainly the nicest and gentlest Chinese converts I have met in my wanderings through the Celestial Empire, and to all appearance they seemed to be extremely good Christians. They spoke well of their neighbours the Trappists, and in fact worshipped them. They all were most honest, straightforward, and kind—qualities not universal among converts in China.

I paid them several visits, and a few presents in the shape of needles and cotton-reels were much appreciated by the weaker sex, while a few small Japanese silver coins sent the men crazy with delight. They did not even object to be sketched, which, for a Chinaman, is going a very long way.

Hu-tzia-Ku was a pretty little village. Its name, translated into English, meant the valley of the Hu family. It was situated on a high bank on the left side of the river, south of the monastery. The other two villages of Shang-wan-tzu and Shia-wan-tzu (meaning the upper and lower turnings of the river) were at no great distance from it, but the villagers had not followed the example of their brothers of Hu-tzia-Ku; on the contrary, they had on different occasions shown themselves decidedly hostile towards them and the Trappists.

At Hu-tzia-Ku I was received into the house of the chief of the village, who was the catechist as well, and he showed me into a room which had been turned into a chapel. It had an altar with a few candles, a crucifix, and on each side of that a large coloured chromo-lithograph of French production. The subjects of these works of art were as suggestive as they were badly executed. In one of them a young Chinaman [Pg 297]who had not accepted the Christian creed was to be seen roasting in the midst of huge flames of bright vermilion and chrome yellow. In the other a Chinese Christian with a happy countenance was led by an angel for a walk on the clouds. A full description both in Chinese and French was printed on the margin of these chefs d’œuvre, to enlighten persons who might entertain any doubt as to what the pictures were meant to represent. A few benches and a couple of wooden chairs were the remainder of the furniture in this humble place of worship. All the villagers went to it in the morning and evening to say their prayers, and on Sunday one of the Trappist fathers came over to celebrate mass.

The Fathers at dinner—The dormitory—Trappists’ dress—My bedroom—The Great Wall of China—Towers—On Trinity day—Man and speech—A sad story.

On returning to the monastery, I found the fathers at dinner. One of them was reading aloud while the others were eating, and Father Maurus told me afterwards that that was done at all meals; the father reader has his dinner later, when the others are at church praying.

Father Maurus took me to see the dormitory, a long rectangular room with small cells on each side, each cell being about seven feet long and four wide. A bunk with a rough mattress was all the furniture in each cell, and few of them had blankets, as the monks usually slept in their clothes.

Near the entrance door a pretty marble shell with holy water adorned the wall as a stoup, and at its sides hung a clothes-brush and a pair of scissors.

Fathers and novices dress entirely in white. Father Maurus, being the superior, wears a leather belt, which ends in several knots, similar in shape to the rope girdles worn by monks of the Franciscan and other orders.

The Trappists are bareheaded, except shepherds, who wear hats of enormous size. Each monk is, however, provided with a cowl, which is very seldom used.

I was shown my bedroom—a cell like all the others—only in a separate part of the building, not inhabited by the Trappists. There was a wooden crucifix at the head of my bunk, and a hard mattress, but no pillow; and I searched in vain for pegs, which plainly showed me that Trappists are more religious than practical, although, on further reflection, I may have been unjust in my hasty judgment, since they themselves never undress. My paint-box, as usual, answered the purpose of a pillow, and altogether I made myself fairly comfortable.

I was up early, having decided to go and see a portion of the Great Wall and the famous towers of Tung-an-tzu, not many miles off. I passed Hu-tzia-Ku, and the catechist insisted on accompanying me.

Having left my mules at the Tung-an-tzu temple, at the foot of the mountain, I proceeded to climb to the summit, where the two towers are.

The Great Wall of China has always been a stumbling-block to Europeans. Some imagine that it is an enormous structure, thousands of miles long, and wide enough to allow four lines of carriages to drive on the top. Others go so far as to assert that it is a myth. There is not only one Great Wall of China, but many Great Walls, which in some places run parallel to each other. But the Great Wall is not continuous, as is very generally supposed; nor is it nearly as high, or as wide, as is popularly believed. The only portion of the wall in Northern China that is continuous for several hundred miles is that which runs west from the sea (Petchili Gulf) to Kalgan, and this is not as solidly built as that portion which runs from Chatao (NNW. of Pekin) in a south-westerly direction.

The wall began from the first tower we reached, and went [Pg 300]across valleys and mountains; at intervals there were other similar towers, with vaulted roofs, which, however, were generally tumbling down, the arches having given way and the ceiling fallen in. The outside walls were still in excellent preservation. In all the towers the walls were double, and access to the upper floor was obtained by going up a small staircase, similar to that of a ship, and nearly perpendicular. The upper part of the tower was of bricks, but the lower part and the foundations were made of enormous blocks of granite kept well together by strong cement. Between stone and stone one could see numerous gun bullets jammed in. A tablet, with the number of the tower engraved on it, was placed over the door, and the windows were invariably of a semi-circular shape. A wall, wide enough for several men to walk abreast, from one tower to another, connected all these towers, and the height of that portion of the wall at Tung-an-tzu was not more than twenty-five feet. According to some Chinese authorities, this part of the Great Wall is supposed to be much older than that farther north at Chatao. [Pg 301]That the wall is not continuous can be ascertained here, as no traces can be seen of any connection between the tower and wall which I saw at Sia-long-men and this part. One explanation of the problem would be that these fragments of the wall have been built at different epochs, to protect valleys through which an invading army could pass. The theory that the wall was built with the object of keeping wild beasts out of the country does not seem a plausible one, as nothing could be easier to a tiger or a leopard than to climb over it in many places.

On Trinity Day, May 23, I was present at the benediction in the chapel of the convent. All the fathers, novices, and boys were present, and it was a good opportunity for me to see them all together. The church was nicely decorated, and there was a grand display of candles. The service was short and good, but what impressed me most were the different expressions on the faces of these men and boys, who were to end their days in these wild regions, giving up all duties and pleasures of life, forgetting parents and friends, and forgotten by everybody; ignoring the progress of art, science, and the world at large, giving up even the greatest gift that God has given—speech—for the sake of thinking exclusively of God.

Some, I presume, took it as a joke, some took it seriously, some looked as if they felt the weight of it, others appeared quite happy.

When the service was over, Father Maurus came for a walk in the garden. He was very communicative, and told me the story of his life. It was a strange and sad story. Was he a weak-minded man to become a Trappist, I wonder? or did he show a strong will in giving up everything in the world to go and lead a silent life in that desolate spot?

Next day I left the convent to pursue my journey on to the sacred mountain of Siao-ou-tai-shan.

A narrow valley—Mud villages—The “Eighteen Terraces”—Devout muleteers—A tablet—Pure Mongol type—Incomprehensible dialect—A perforated mountain—Sheu-men-tzu—Not a paradise of comfort—The “kan”—The walled courtyard—Chinese food—A panic—The magic rubber band—A wind storm—A strange phenomenon—A ghost-like dance—Blinding dust.

I proceeded towards Tzie-tzia-pu-zu, on the right-hand side of the stream as one faces the tower of Tung-an-tzu. Then, turning north-west, I entered a narrow valley, the road all along being exceedingly picturesque, winding among huge boulders and rocks on either side, and at times forming beautiful gorges. We came across large and interesting caves, but probably the most curious thing noticeable in that neighbourhood was a hole pierced by Nature right through a mountain, near its summit. Here and there quaint little mud villages added life to the otherwise somewhat wild scenery. At noon the top of the Sheu-pa-pan pass was reached, the name of which, being translated, means “the eighteen terraces.” As usual, a shrine had been erected on this pass, with five gods and a tablet in it. Two of these gods were appropriately the protectors of passes, and the entrance of the building faced the east. A few yards from it, in front, stood the wall—ever to be found in China—to [Pg 303]prevent evil spirits from entering the temple. As we have seen, the builders of these temples and the worshippers in them labour under the impression that evil spirits can only travel in a straight line. Travelling in a roundabout manner they believe impossible to them, a circumstance rather convenient for less ethereal people, since all you have to do to keep, not only temples, but even your own house, free from the visits of these objectionable callers, is to erect a small wall in front of the doorway, and you can thereafter live safe and undisturbed within the walls of your dwelling.

The muleteers, who are about the only travellers on these lonely roads, are extremely devout, and even the men in my employ never missed an opportunity of paying their chin-chins to the gods inside the temples and shrines we passed on the roadside.

The tablet in this particular temple was of the fifth moon of the fifteenth year of Tzia-tziu; or, in other words, dated from the present dynasty.

South-east of the pass, a long way off, the towers of Tung-an-tzu could still be distinguished on the sky-line.

Descending on the other side of the pass, I was particularly struck by the sudden and strongly-marked contrast in the type of the inhabitants. They were now of an absolutely pure Mongol type; they had larger and more slanting eyes, a flatter nose with wide nostrils, and appeared less intelligent and quick than the natives we had so far encountered. They spoke a dialect quite incomprehensible to us—even to my muleteers. We had noticed variations from one village to another in the pronunciation of the same words, but here, much to the concern of my men, we could not understand a single word.

As we continued to descend, the valley grew wider. Late [Pg 304]in the afternoon the village of the Kau family, Kau-tzia-chuan, was reached, and not very distant from it another quaint village, after which the hills closed in again, the road being actually walled in between huge rocks perpendicular to the ground.

A perforated and curiously-shaped mountain in the vicinity gives its name, “Mao-mian-tzu,” to the next village we visited, and when we had toiled through yet another small valley, a ravine and a narrow pass, we left the region of the picturesque and solid granite, and came to one where it is replaced by soft earth of a ghastly yellow colour.

Towards six in the evening we halted at Sheu-men-tzu (the stone door), where we put up at the quaint little inn.

A Chinese inn at its best is not a paradise of comfort, nor, indeed, a model of cleanliness or privacy. There are, of course, in China, inns that are larger than others, but, no matter what their size, all are equally and disgustingly dirty. Those in towns have separate small rooms, no bigger than ship cabins, with paper windows. A portion of the room, called the “kan,” raised a couple of feet above the floor, and covered with a rough mat, is the part on which one sleeps at night and sits in the daytime. This raised portion being of masonry, and vaulted, a fire can be lighted under it in winter to keep one warm. There is possibly, when the “kan” is lighted, the disadvantage of having one’s body broiled on one side and frozen on the other, unless one keeps turning over all the time, but that is only a trifle to travellers in the Celestial Empire.

In villages where smaller inns—generally only one—are to be found, the accommodation is even worse. There is only one barren shed, with a “kan” running the whole length of the longer wall, or sometimes two “kans,” one at each end [Pg 305]of the room. On these, packed together like sardines, travellers of all grades of society sleep at night in their clothes, or wrapped up in blankets. The majority of guests at these resting-places are usually muleteers or pedlars, for the better classes in China are not much given to travelling.

One of the principal features of a Chinese inn is the walled courtyard, in which the carts, sedan chairs, mules, ponies, and donkeys are kept at night, the animals making such a diabolical noise that it is not easy to get much sleep.

Most of these inns provide you with sleeping accommodation, pour façon de parler, and tea. Travellers have to bring their own bedding and their own food. Something to eat can nevertheless always be obtained at these hostelries by making a special arrangement, and to any one not over fastidious there are several Chinese dishes that are quite palatable. For instance, the “laopings” (a cross between an omelette and a tart) are, to my taste, quite delicious.

Not many European travellers had been seen in these parts, and our appearance generally caused a great commotion. The moment the news of our arrival spread about, the room of the inn was invaded by swarms of natives, and our baggage, clothes, and all we possessed, inspected with ever-increasing curiosity. At this particular place, Sheu-men-tzu, I caused a panic in the crowd by showing them an indiarubber band, the expanding qualities of which made them bolt out of the room in terror. How a “ribbon,” to use their expression, only a couple of inches long could suddenly become a yard long and vice-versa was a mystery quite beyond them, and was looked upon as uncanny. They kept discussing it all night—at a respectful distance, be it understood—and none of my things were fingered again as long as we remained. It is superfluous to say that, on my side, I never [Pg 306]failed to produce the “magic rubber band” whenever, on after occasions, the natives bothered us too much with their inquisitiveness.

I made a very early start, as a long day’s journey was before me, and by eight o’clock had already passed through To-cheng-pu and reached the plateau-like stretch of yellow earth on the summit of the hill-range. About an hour later, in a wind-storm, I began descending towards an immense plain—a regular desert—which lay for miles and miles stretched below me, losing itself in the sky on the horizon. We were fortunate enough to witness a strange phenomenon. Dozens of gigantic columns of dust, rising several hundred feet above the ground and formed by so many whirlwinds, were revolving at a terrific pace upon themselves, and moving about along the plain in a fantastic, ghost-like dance. Every now and then one vanished in a cloud of dust, and others, as if by magic, rose in a cone-like shape from the ground to join in the weird game of Nature. With incredible rapidity these moving dust cones assumed an immense height.

On crossing the plain, although we naturally took care to avoid these whirlwinds, we were nearly caught in one of them, for they travel so swiftly and in such an erratic fashion that it is not always easy to get out of their way. The whizzing noise, as it swept by us, was fearful, and the dust raised was for some minutes blinding. Even stones of moderate size were lifted up several feet by the force of the rotatory movement of the wind.

As we went on across this table-land—at Tao-la-tsuei the altitude was over 4000 feet—the wind increased during the afternoon, and, as it blew in our faces, made travelling uncomfortable. At times such was its fury that it was all we could do to hold on to our saddles. It raised a fearful dust, [Pg 307]and in the afternoon further thick masses of sand blew over us. The latter probably came from the southern part of the desert. It was like being in a dense yellow fog, and for some time we were at a loss as to where we were going. We lost the track in the blinding dust, and had considerable difficulty in finding it again.

At the foot of the sacred mountain—The temple grounds—My Mongol guide—A south-west track—A treacherous stone—A violent shock—Anxious moments.

Finally we reached Tku-fo-pu, and later we came to the foot of the sacred mountain which rejoices in the name of Siao-ou-tai-shan. We did not put up in the village, as there were no inns, but continued up the slope of the mountain to the temple of Tie-lin-tsen, and halted in the temple grounds, where accommodation for pilgrims is provided, similar to, and certainly no better than, that of the poorest inns. The altitude of the temple above the sea was 4350 feet.

Even as low down as the temple there were still patches of snow and a bridge of solid ice over a torrent. The majestic Siao towered against the blue sky—now that the sand-storm was over—snow-clad here and there on its slopes, yet with much less snow than I expected to find on it at that time of the year.

I prayed for a bright morning the next day, when I intended to ascend the highest peak, and my prayers were rewarded. The next morning came crisp and clear, a lovely day for the ascent.

At 5 A.M. I set out on the steep track, accompanied by a Mongol guide, a man no longer very young, who took plenty [Pg 309]of time over everything he did, and who did nothing without stopping every few moments to have a smoke. According to his ideas smoking could not be enjoyed unless he squatted on his heels, a process which further involved endless sighs and significant glances at the top of the mountain when he had to get up again.

Detesting guides at all times as I do, I soon left him behind and proceeded by myself, sure that I could find my way without him. Things went well until I had reached an altitude of over 9000 feet, when the track which I had so far followed seemed to branch off in two directions—one to the south-west, the other to the north-west, apparently skirting one of the lower peaks.

I took the south-west track. It led me to a point where no human being could go further. Even where I stood the slope of the mountain was so steep that it required a steady foot not to slide down into the underlying precipice. A little further, a long ice-field, extending to the foot of the mountain, barred my way, so I decided to leave the track, and attempted to climb the peak above me, in order to see whether from that point of vantage I could perceive the right trail. I was carrying a water-colour paint-box and a block slung on a strong strap that crossed one shoulder and went under my arm. After a considerable amount of toiling I managed to crawl to the top on my hands and knees.

Although this was, as yet, merely one of the lower peaks, the view was enchanting, and after all my hard work I was so hot that I sat on a most inviting stone on the edge of the slope, and opened my paint-box to take a sketch. Next came the sorting-out of the brushes, when unexpectedly the treacherous stone on which I had comfortably settled gave [Pg 310]way with a sudden jerk, and began sliding—with me still sitting on it—down the extremely steep slope.

No effort on my part to stop the involuntary tobogganing was of any avail. I tried in vain to clutch the ground and seize any projecting stone in hopes of stopping my precipitous descent, but at the speed I was going it was no easy matter to hold on even to anything I managed to clutch, especially as I was sliding with my back to the mountain, and was unable to turn round. With some alarm I realised that another hundred yards would bring me to the edge of the precipice. Over I should have gone, taking a fatal leap of several hundred feet.

My hair stood on end as every second of my precipitate descent drew me nearer and nearer the dreaded spot, and how well engraved on my mind is the ghastly hollow sound of my heavy paint-box, which had preceded me by long leaps and bounds in my disastrous descent, and as it banged from boulder to boulder further down, the echo from mountain to mountain magnified the sound a thousand times. Then there was a final bang, far, far down below. The echo repeated it, and all was silence once more, except for the stones rolling down with me.

A violent shock, which seemed nearly to tear my body in two, made me think that I had gone over. But no; as luck would have it, I had suddenly stopped. I dared not move, for I was still in a precarious position—only some ten or fifteen yards from the edge of the precipice, and trembling all over with excitement. I was very young in those days, and the prospect of the approaching leap had given me quite a shock. I was half unconscious, and it took me some minutes [Pg 311]to realise where and how I was. I felt that I was suspended from somewhere, but, as I hung from behind, I did not know to what I was hanging, or for how long my tobogganing would be delayed.

One thing I grasped, and that was that only the greatest caution would or could extricate me from the perilous position I occupied.

My terror was not lessened when, on getting my wits back, I discovered that the weight of my body was supported by a portion of my coat and the strong leather strap which was slung under my arm, both of which, in dragging, had caught over a projecting stone. That had stopped me from certain death, but the slightest movement on my part, or a jerk, might still place me in great danger.

Slowly, and with my back resting on the steep slope, I managed to get a footing, however slight. Then came the difficulty of turning round. Several anxious minutes, which seemed ages, and this feat also was successfully accomplished. Then I half lay with my body flat on the ground, clutching with both hands the rock that had saved my life, until my commotion had entirely passed away, and I crawled up cat-fashion, as I had done before, until I reached the treacherous trail again, following it back to where it parted. There I found the old guide squatting on his heels and quietly smoking his pipe, for he said he had seen that I had gone the wrong way, and should have to come back to that point.

I never told him what had happened; he would have been too much amused. I also pretended not to hear when he asked me what I had done with my paint-box.

The right trail—The summit of the mountain—The altitude—A wooden shrine—Images of Buddha—“Wishes”—The panorama—Mount Show-ho-ling and its giant neighbour—Overhanging a precipice—On a wooden platform—An unsteady path—A hard jump—The Mongol guide and the gods—Gilt Buddhas—Another difficulty surmounted—An attempt to blackmail—Armed bonzes—Parting friends.

This time the old Mongol put me on the right trail, and as he was such a slow walker I again started off alone. I made him give me my oil-colour paint-box, which he had been carrying for me; and with it, following a comparatively easy but steep track, I first reached a small but solidly built shed, and then, climbing up the steeper and fairly dangerous part of the track, finally reached the summit of the highest peak. I said “fairly dangerous,” for the last few yards before one reached the top of the pinnacle were not more than a foot wide, and on either side was a precipice, the bottom of which one could hardly see. In other words, the performance for those few yards was not unlike tight-rope walking, only with a drop of several thousand feet on both sides of you had you missed your footing. The altitude of the mountain was 12,000 feet.

The pinnacle of the great Siao-ou-tai-shan was a huge rock, on the top of which, no larger than about ten feet [Pg 313]in diameter, devout pilgrims had erected a small wooden shrine, about four feet square and six or seven feet high. In the interior, on shelves along the walls, there were bronze images of Buddha, and each of them was stuffed inside, through a hole provided for the purpose at the base of the image, with bits of paper on which were written prayers, or “wishes” that pilgrims were anxious to obtain.

More interesting than the shrine was the exquisite panorama obtained from the summit of Siao. On the south, south-east, and north-east sides mountain-range after mountain-range of considerable height encircled the sacred peak, blending from warm brownish tints in the foreground into the pure cobalt blue of the more distant peaks.

Mount Show-ho-ling, 6582 feet above sea-level, seemed a mere dwarf by the side of its giant neighbour. On the north and north-west side stretched, as far as human eye could see, a barren, flat plain; and far, far away beyond it, to the north, by the aid of a telescope, one could distinguish, rising like a barrier, the mass of the Huan-yan-shang mountain.

Overhanging a precipice, a short way below the summit, a temple had been erected in a place as difficult of access as human mind could devise. It is a very common thing for Buddhist fanatics to select dangerous sites for their places of worship, and presumably they labour under the impression that the greater the difficulty and danger to be overcome in building these sacred places, the more the gods are pleased. The construction of these temples is often attended with loss of life, which the people willingly sacrifice for their faith.

The particular temple on Siao had been put up on an artificial wooden platform, supported on crowbars thrust into the almost perpendicular rock where part of the mountain had at some previous time collapsed, leaving the rock exposed. One could only reach the temple by walking on a path of unsteady narrow planks suspended by rotten ropes or resting on shaky crowbars along the rocky wall of the mountain, while directly under you was the precipice. There was no banister or protection of any kind on the outside of this primitive suspension bridge, and on the inside you could not cling to anything, for the rock had been worn smooth by the ice, snow and rain.

As I intended seeing all that there was to be seen, after travelling so far, I walked on the unsteady single planks, none of which were more than a foot wide, and with a certain feeling of insecurity balanced myself as well as I could from plank to plank until I had traversed the precipice from one end to the other, and was at last near the platform. What was my surprise when, on looking in front of me, I discovered that the last plank of this primitive scaffolding had either fallen or been removed, and that in order to reach the platform of the temple a jump of over a yard was necessary—a short jump under ordinary circumstances, but a very long [Pg 315]one when you reflected that you had to take your leap from a very unsteady point, and that if by chance you missed the platform or slipped, you had below you a drop of three or four hundred feet before you touched ground again.

The Mongol guide appeared on the scene, and walked, unconcerned, along the shaky planks, as if he had been on the best and widest of high roads. I pointed out to him the predicament in which I was, and asked him if he would jump first to give me a hand, but he said he would not. “The gods,” he said, “have removed that plank because they knew there was a foreigner coming, and they did not wish him to see this sacred spot. If I were to help you,” he added knowingly, “the gods would be angry with me and I should suffer.”

There was very little of interest to see in the temple, except long rows of small images of Buddha, some gilt, some bronze [Pg 316]colour, and similar to those in the small shrine on the apex of the mountain. These too, dozens of them in long rows, were the offerings of pilgrims, and each was stuffed with “wishes” and prayers. These “wishes” were mostly from sterile women praying for children, male in preference; from sufferers, beseeching the gods to get rid of complaints duly specified in the petition; or from less modest devotees, who asked for nothing less than health, wealth, and happiness.

My curiosity satisfied, there now came the jump from the platform back on to the narrow plank, which was a much more difficult and risky performance than the reverse achievement. The slightest misjudgment in the distance or speed as you leaped would carry you to your doom.

It required a great effort to make up one’s mind to the jump, but eventually, with the assistance of the Mongol, who seized me firmly in his arms as I landed on the plank, even this difficulty was surmounted, and we gaily strode down the mountain towards the monastery.

There were patches of ice and snow in cavities and sheltered positions both on the northern and southern slopes of the lofty peak, but the parts more exposed to the sun were free from either. No incident or accident marked the descent, and late in the afternoon I was back in the monastery near the foot of the mountain, enjoying a well-deserved rest.

During the night I heard noises of people running to and fro in the courtyard, and early the following morning, much before sunrise, one of my muleteers crept into my room and woke me up with the startling news that the bonzes of the temple had just attempted with threats to extort money from him. He had been commissioned by them to deliver the following message to me:

“I must pay the bonzes a sum in taels equivalent to about £12 sterling for accommodation in the temple compound, or they would kill me.”

“Tell them ‘yes,’” was my answer; “but not till sunrise,” and I instructed the muleteer to have everything ready to start with the first rays of light.

There was a great commotion in the temple compound. I noiselessly made a hole in the paper window, and could distinguish the bonzes running from one room into another, and could hear them confabulating excitedly. I loaded the five chambers of my revolver, to be ready for any emergency.

At dawn my traps were packed, and the mules, laden under my supervision, were ready to start, while the bonzes had all collected in front of the main gate, probably to prevent us going out. In fact, one of them even attempted to close the heavy gate. I stopped him, and setting one of the Frenchmen on guard with a rifle, I made mules, muleteers, and baggage leave the temple enclosure amidst the violent remonstrations of the bonzes, who now showed themselves in their true colours. They were worse than wild beasts, fierce yet cowardly. Some of them ran to their quarters, evidently in search of weapons. There was no time to be lost. Once the mules and baggage out, and we also outside the gate, the money due to them for two nights’ lodging, amounting to some thirty shillings,⁠[14] was handed to the chief bonze.

Seeing that a number of bonzes were now coming to his assistance with knobbed mallets and pitchforks, the head bonze gave way to his temper, and inveighed furiously [Pg 318]against us, inciting the priests to attack us. Arguing is not much in my line, particularly with scoundrels. I set my revolver under his nose and requested him to bid us a polite good-bye. Which he did, and he and the others suddenly turned into a most affectedly civil assemblage.

Stoned—Thirteen hours in my saddle—Marshy country—A comfortable separate room—Sickening smell—“Only” dead of smallpox—In a drenching rain—Women in all their finery—Deformed feet—A miserable hamlet—The obstinate donkey and the hole-man—The highway from Pekin to Kalgan—A fine stone bridge—Numerous towers—Fire signalling—The Great Wall at Cha-tao—The gate of Tziun-kuan—Stockinged pigs—Caravans—The Nankao Pass—The Ming tombs—The avenue of gigantic animals—Our last halt—Unsanitary regulations—A festive village—Fishing.

We quickly descended the hillside, and when we were some distance down I perceived a young bonze come out of the monastery by a back way and run by a short cut towards the village of Tkou-fo-pu, probably to incite the natives against us. Half an hour later, in fact, when we traversed the village, we were met by a very rowdy crowd and subjected to all sorts of insults, stones being fired (with considerable accuracy) at us.

We forced our way through without receiving any serious injury, and by the same road we had followed on the outward journey reached Sheu-men-tzu late that same night. From this point I deviated from my former route, and travelled in a north-easterly instead of a south-easterly direction. We covered great distances every day. Thirteen hours in our saddles brought us from Sheu-meu-tzu to our next halting-place, [Pg 320]Fan-shan-pu, a somewhat tedious ride, with no exciting incidents. We went through a curious gorge past Ouang-kia-yao, lined all along with willow-trees. The villages of Tasie-yao, Mie-tchan, and Tie-na were of no very great importance or interest, but Kiem-tsuen was quite a large and handsome town. Then we passed the marshes of Chang-chui-mo, which were picturesque enough, with willows growing to a very great height, and further on the village of Chia-chonei-mo came in sight.

We spent the night at Fan-shan-pu. The inn at this place was large, and I was given a comfortable separate room. My two friends were in the next. The stench which came in gusts was so appalling that I became quite sick, and when I remonstrated with the innkeeper he said something was wrong with my nose; he could not smell anything. Sleeping outside was not possible, as it came on to rain heavily. All the other rooms were occupied. During the night the odour became so unbearable that I proceeded to investigate its origin. With a lighted candle I went out, and, sniffing about, made sure that it came from the next room to mine, on the opposite side to that where the Frenchmen were, and which I had been told was occupied by three Chinese. I knocked at the door, left half opened, and receiving no answer pushed the door open with my knee while I held my nose tight with my hand. I raised the candle, and behold! there were indeed three Chinese occupying it, but they were dead, and had evidently been so for some days. They were in the last stage of decomposition, their faces and hands black, and a mass of moving worms. The landlord, summoned in due haste, quietly replied that they had “only” died of smallpox, and had been there eight days. He was waiting for an order from an absent mandarin to have them removed.

Still traversing the country from south-west to north-east, in a drenching rain, we visited the villages of Si-kou-ying, Hao-kwei-ying, and Sang-yein. Here the women, dressed in all their finery, turned out on their doorsteps to watch our arrival. Some looked quite attractive with their vari-coloured silk jupons and trousers, only the deformity of their stumpy feet, squeezed into tiny pointed shoes not longer than three or four inches, detracted a good deal from their otherwise graceful appearance.

Towards noon we reached Ya-lo-wan, on the banks of the Hung-ho River, a miserable hamlet perched on a hill of yellow earth.

The river had to be waded. A Chinaman—a beggar, I thought—volunteered to take animals and men safely across for a sum of money, for he warned us that there were large holes in the river-bed, in which animals would sink for certain should we cross without his aid. Well knowing the trick these men have of digging large holes in the river-beds while dry in summer, in order to extort money from timid travellers in other seasons, I declined his services, and proceeded to lead my mules, not right across the water to where the road began on the opposite side of the stream—for these trap-holes are usually dug in places where unwary travellers are likely to cross—but a few yards further up, landing every one of my party safely on the other side, with the exception of one donkey, who, like all the evil spirits of China, insisted on crossing in a straight line in front of his nose. The result was that when he was in mid-stream he sank into one of the holes, and, with the weight of the load on his back, disappeared. Only the points of his ears could be seen wagging out of the water. The hole-man, who had eagerly been watching for this, sprang into the river to the [Pg 322]rescue of animal and load, for which he was duly rewarded.

We made the next halt at Houai-lai-shien, a fairly large town, 1653 feet above sea-level, and intersected by the highway from Pekin to Kalgan, and thence to Siberia. A fine stone bridge is to be found just beyond one of the gates. Three hours’ journey brought us to Yu-ling-pu, and another hour to Paol-chan. Here we came to numerous towers similar to those of the wall described at Tung-an-tzu, but no signs of a wall joining these towers could be discerned, though in all probability even these square structures were in olden days connected by an earthen wall, or possibly even by a light stone wall. Many of these towers bore the appearance of having been used for fire-signalling. Not far from these we reached the Great Wall at Cha-tao, where walls and towers were much larger than at any other place in China.

Cha-tao (1470 feet above sea-level) was situated on the semi-circle described by the Great Wall between this point and Cha-san-ku. The wall was double between these two points, and formed a kind of huge semi-circular castle walled all round. The Great Wall of China was extraordinarily well constructed, for, considering the centuries since its erection, it was yet in marvellous preservation, except for the roofs of towers that had fallen through. This particular portion of the wall was enormously wide, and had a number of towers at short intervals. It was quite an imposing sight, as it went up over the barren slopes of the nearer hills and down on the other side, certainly the most gigantic work of masonry in the world.

The gate of Tziun-kuan dates from the third moon of the first year of Tzin-tai, but for actual beauty, to my mind, the [Pg 323]Kin-youn-kuan gate was superior. Its stone carvings, both under the archway and outside, were magnificent.

As I was sketching the gate I saw a strange sight. A number of fat pigs passed along the road, their feet clad in neat little socks to prevent them getting sore while travelling long distances.

Through the above mentioned gates was the great highway from China to Siberia. As we continued our journey we encountered thousands of camels carrying tea to Siberia. Caravan after caravan went by, the camel at the head of each dingling a monotonous bell, the drivers perched on the hump, and now and then a quaint, long-legged baby camel struggling along to keep up with its mother. It was curious to notice how difficult it was for a camel to go up even a moderate hill. For instance, ascending the Nankao Pass, a very gentle incline, seemed a great effort for them.

We left the high road at Nankao, in order to visit the Ming tombs. That of Yunloh was the handsomest; then the mausoleum to Chan-su-uen, a simple but dignified structure in masonry and red lacquer, with a double roof similar to a pagoda, was very attractive. The stone gateway, surmounted by two animals, was graceful and simple. I must confess disappointment with the “avenue” of gigantic stone animals and figures, of which I had heard so much. To me they did not appear gigantic at all; on the contrary, they seemed small, and sure enough some of the animals, such as the elephant and camel, were smaller than life-size.

Our last halt was made at Chang-ping-tchu. In the morning, as we left the town under the city wall, we saw a number of bodies of men who had died of starvation, and from the stench they had apparently been left there some time. But the Chinese were never great at sanitary regulations. [Pg 324]Two or three were half buried under a pile of large stones.

We crossed over the bridge to Cha-touen, a very festive village, where, though early in the morning, a diabolical dramatic representation, with accompaniment of excruciating music, was taking place in a large outdoor theatre. The houses were decorated with paper flowers and lanterns; undoubtedly one of the festivals of some kind, which are innumerable in China, was going on.

As we followed the river course we were much interested in the skilful way in which, by means of a small hand-net, the natives captured large quantities of small fish, not unlike whitebait, and which my muleteer pronounced delicious to eat.

Drawing nearer the capital the houses grew thicker, and the villages and towns came in quick succession. The dusty highway was thronged with people, camels, horses, mules, and donkeys, and now and then a palanquin conveying a high official to or from the greatest centre of the East. Coolies, with their huge conical hats, were running to and fro with heavy loads of vegetables or merchandise, and everything was life and business.

At sunset we entered Pekin by the north gate, thus ending my enjoyable trip to the Trappists and the great Siao-ou-tai-shan.

A good rest—The prevalent idea—The Generals of the Allies and their opinion—Unnecessary accusations—Reinforcements—Prominent features in Tientsin—Bathing not a luxury—The Russian and American bands—News of the Legations—Sir Claude MacDonald’s pathetic letter—A message to the American Consul and one to the Japanese Consul.

After the taking of Tientsin city, and the excitement of looting it, it was felt by the Allies that a good rest was necessary before an attempt to relieve the Pekin Legations could be made.

As a matter of fact, the idea was prevalent in Tientsin that the Ministers and all foreigners in the capital could not have escaped massacre. Certainly everything pointed in that direction, and if the Imperial troops in Pekin were as well armed and drilled as those who fought in Tientsin, we could but surmise that the Legations, with the small guards and limited ammunition, could not have withstood a long and severe siege.

Brigadier-General Dorward and the Generals of the other Allies were of the opinion that, considering the strength of the enemy between Tientsin and Pekin, at least 25,000 men were necessary for an advance. Some suggested that 40,000 would be a figure at which a greater chance of success might be expected.

Admiral Seymour himself thought that no less than 40,000 would be necessary to fight and keep communications open. The rainy season, which was late that year, would be coming shortly, and would render the country almost impassable, as there were no roads to speak of, and every inch of the railway had been destroyed. General Dorward’s idea of travelling up by river was not looked upon favourably by most commanders.

The Russians, who expected large reinforcements, seemed inclined to wait till their men had arrived, which would be about the middle of August or beginning of September, when a dash for the capital might be made with comparative quickness and security, as the rains would be over by that time. To start and have a second edition of Seymour’s experience would be much worse than not to start at all.

There was method in their way of thinking, and more sense than appears at first sight. Uselessly to sacrifice thousands of lives and yet not attain the desired end seemed of no profit to any one. If an advance were made at all, it must be made with every possible prospect of victory.

Whispered, unnecessary accusations were made about the secret aims of the Slavs, and absurd rumours were spread of machinations between Russians and Chinese. Others went even so far as to believe that Russian troops from Siberia were already in possession of Pekin, and would try to keep the other Allies out! It would be interesting to know who was originating these wild statements.

While all this talk was going on in the settlements, and while official discussions and councils of war were taking place almost daily, followed by genial dinners given by one General or another, nothing whatever was being done.

Troops continued to arrive from Port Arthur, Japan [Pg 327]Hong Kong, and Manilla, and stores were now being brought up fast from Shanghai, Hong Kong, and Nagasaki.

Probably the most prominent feature were the American mule teams, with their reckless drivers, which were greatly admired when one could avoid being run over by them. Then the jovial, florid, naval face of Captain Bayly, the Provost Marshal of Tientsin, who sat on a horse which he rode up and down the Victoria Road at all hours of the day. On the verandah of the principal hotel a swarm of Russian officers were at all times to be seen drinking each other’s health, of which they seemed to have already an exuberance, and making grand bows to one another, while British officers sprawled disjointedly along the road with their well-cut clothes, and an eyeglass often stuck over the eye, which did not always add to their otherwise intelligent appearance.

The British Tommy was nicely mannered and quiet, but bore an absent-minded look about his face; while Jack Tar was free and easy, as usual, and quite at home, as if the whole place belonged to him.

There was plenty of dash in the Americans, whose clothes, [Pg 328]nevertheless, appeared somewhat tight-fitting—a contrast to the solemn, turbaned Indian troops, whose ample knickers made up for the painful thinness of their legs.

Notwithstanding that the water of the river, canals, and ponds had been polluted by dead bodies, the native troops were seen daily bathing outside the mud wall, where the accompanying photograph was taken. Europeans had given up washing long before, as the water supply was limited, and a bath was indeed a luxury in which very few could indulge.

The little Japanese, silent, steady, and well-behaved, were like ants, ever busy, carrying things here and there, moving guns, drilling, foraging, grooming horses, washing clothes, cleaning rifles, or polishing their swords and bayonets. They had established the most reliable and well-conducted [Pg 329]field post-office, although a Chinese post-office had been reopened by the British, as well as one in the German Consulate.

The evenings were enlivened by the excellent Russian band, which played selections from operas and well-known airs, and by the capital American band, which went in for less classical but nevertheless captivating music, such as “The Belle of New York,” “The Casino Girl,” &c.

Various unsuccessful attempts had been made to communicate with Pekin by means of disguised messengers. Day after day passed, and we heard no news of the besieged, which made us fear the worst.

A telegram had been received by his Excellency Director-General Sheng on July 7, and we in Tientsin heard of it in due course of time. The despatch contained news of the besieged, but although it purported to come from his Excellency Yuan-Shih-Kai, Governor of Shantung, and had been duly continued by Her Majesty’s Consul at Chinanfu, it was much discussed, and little credence was attached to it in Tientsin. It ran:—

“A messenger has just arrived, having left Pekin on July 3. He states that two Legations are still uncaptured. The troops and Boxers are much disheartened. The former have lost over 2000 killed, and many of the Boxer ringleaders have also been slain.

“They do not dare to approach the Legations, and the Boxers say that their mystic powers have been broken by the foreigner.

“The messenger further says that if the foreigners have sufficient food and ammunition they ought to be able to hold out for a long time.”

It was not till July 29 that the Allies woke up to the real state of affairs, on the receipt by the British Consul of the following pathetic letter from Sir Claude MacDonald:—

Directly afterwards a second messenger brought to Mr. Ragsdale, the American Consul, a small piece of tissue paper, on which was a cypher message from Mr. Conger, the United States Minister. It was dated July 21, and said that the Chinese had ceased firing by agreement. The Legations had sufficient provisions, but little ammunition. They could hold out for some days. Fifty had been killed.

With much gentlemanly thoughtfulness Mr. Ragsdale immediately communicated to all his colleagues the contents of the message, and so, with excellent politeness, did the Japanese Consul, who received a messenger a few days later from Colonel Shiba.

Preparing for the advance—A conference of Generals—An immediate start—A reconnaissance—On August 4—A guard for Tientsin—The number of troops marching on Pekin—At the Siku Arsenal—The position of the Allies—Pei-tsang—Enemy in great force—The Americans—The magazine—The first line of Chinese trenches.

This news from Pekin, which came as a great surprise to everybody, stirred the blood of the Allies. It was plain that, although still alive, the besieged in the Legations were in a sorrowful plight. At any cost, an attempt to relieve them must be made at once. It was impossible to rest idle only eighty miles away, and let men, women, and children of our blood be slaughtered by these barbarians.

For two or three days there was a great commotion in Tientsin to prepare for the advance. Pekin carts were commandeered in all directions, and saddles, ponies, mules, donkeys, and rickshaws. Ponies and mules fetched high sums, and were very difficult to obtain. I was fortunate enough to get some good mules and Chinese artillery pack-saddles, which came in very handy to carry the heavy load of photographic plates and cameras that I intended using on the way.

On August 3, at 10 A.M., a conference of generals was held, at which it was decided, at the instance of General Yamaguchi, [Pg 335]that the combined forces of the Allies now ready in Tientsin should make an immediate start for Pekin, without waiting for the arrival of further reinforcements. It was proposed that the movement should begin on August 5, but afterwards agreed that the advance could be made on the 4th.

The Japanese division had arrived in Tientsin on July 21, and had since made a reconnaissance to locate the enemy, and discover his strength.

It was not till the afternoon of the 4th that the troops began to move out of the settlement, raising clouds of dust on the road, and rattling the heavy gun carriages over the rickety wooden bridges outside Tientsin native city.

Three battalions of Japanese infantry from all regiments, commanded by Major Eguchi, were left as a guard in [Pg 336]Tientsin, as well as some Indian British troops, Russian and French soldiers, and Italian marines.

The troops that took part in the advance were about sixteen or eighteen thousand in number, and consisted of—Japanese: one brigade of infantry, and all the cavalry available; four companies of artillery; one company of engineers.

British: Royal Welsh Fusiliers, Royal Artillery, 7th Bengal Infantry, 1st Bengal Lancers, 1st Sikhs, 24th Punjab Infantry.

The Japanese, British and American were to work in a joint movement on the west bank of the River Pei-ho, while the Russians (East Siberian Regiment and Cossacks), French, and Austrians were to march on the east bank. The Russians proposed to come over to the west bank, owing to the great difficulty of getting through the country on the opposite side of the stream, but this was not allowed, and [Pg 339]they therefore remained on the east bank with the Austrians, Germans, and Italians.

The night of the 4th was spent by the Allies around the Siku, or Hsiku, arsenal, the English and Russians acting as outposts, and the Japanese being placed on the extreme left. The Russians occupied the Siku arsenal itself, in the centre of the line, the British and Americans the right and left centre, and the Japanese the extreme left.

From the Siku arsenal a double embankment, six feet high, ran along in a north-westerly direction as far as a magazine, then turned almost north beyond it. Two buildings, a gunpowder magazine, a small village, and a few scattered houses and granaries, stood in the large triangular stretch of flat country, now covered with crops (Indian corn) four feet high, that was enclosed by the river on one side and the road embankment on the other, the Siku arsenal being the point of the triangle.

Pei-tsang, where the Chinese were reported in great force, was about six thousand yards north-west of Siku. The Chinese were very strongly entrenched behind several lines of earthworks stretching to the south-west from Pei-tsang and to the south-east along a mud wall. There were several miles of trenches, very skilfully laid out, and the enemy had placed behind them six guns at their extreme right, nine field guns in the centre of the line, three guns directly west of Pei-tsang, and eight guns near the granaries south-east of the village. It was, indeed, a formidable position to attack.

During the night the Allies took up a position to the south of the embankment, the Japanese occupying the extreme left wing, close to the magazine, where they brought up their artillery, under the command of Major-General Tskamoto, with the 21st brigade of infantry, the 5th regiment of [Pg 340]cavalry, one company of engineers, the 5th regiment of artillery, and ambulances.

To the right, under the command of Major-General Manabe, was the 9th brigade, one company of cavalry, one battery of artillery, one company of engineers, Red Cross ambulances, &c.

The reserve consisted of the 11th regiment, taken out of the 9th brigade, and one company of engineers.

Next to the Japanese along the embankment were the British forces, under cover, consisting of the Royal Welsh Fusiliers, 7th Bengal Infantry, the Royal Artillery, the 1st Sikhs, and 24th Punjab Infantry.

The Americans, for some unaccountable reason, lost their way, and therefore were not in the position assigned to them, nor did they take any part in the engagement.

The 1st Bengal Lancers were on the open ground where high crops were growing south of the embankment, and a few hundred yards away from it.

At 4 A.M. on August 5, the Allies had taken up their positions, the head portion of the Japanese 5th division excepted, which had moved forward at 10 o’clock the previous evening (August 4). They had pushed their way right up to the Chinese sentries near the magazine, and with the first rays of light, at 4.20, got the first glimpse of the enemy. Ten minutes later, at 4.30, the magazine was in the hands of the Japanese. With this was also captured the first line of Chinese trenches. Three thousand Chinese troops were reported to be guarding the powder magazine, but they withdrew to their main defences, and a Japanese battery was set to work at this spot.

The battle of Pei-tsang—Drawing the enemy’s fire—The Japanese artillery—Occasional jokes—A Chinese shell—A spot of comparative safety—Japanese wounded—A narrow escape—Japanese humour—The Royal Artillery—Chinese fire slackening—The British cavalry—The 41st Japanese—Photographs under fire—Capturing enemy’s trenches—Heavy casualties—A touching scene—The enemy driven from his trenches.

Shortly before any firing began I climbed with a friend over the embankment to see whether the enemy was in sight, with the result that we were ourselves placed in full sight of the enemy against the sky-line, and three or four shells whizzed uncomfortably near us, exploding, fortunately, a little way beyond. From this moment the Chinese, suspecting the whereabouts of the Allies, began to send shell after shell into our position with considerable accuracy, but did comparatively little damage, as the shells burst twenty or thirty yards beyond the embankment.

The Japanese artillery at this point of the advance was doing splendidly, the officers calmly smoking their cigarettes as the shells burst freely around them. The Chinese had found the exact range of the Japanese guns, and were making their position very hot; the gunners and their officers, however, were wonderfully cool and composed, cracking occasional jokes when shells burst too near. The [Pg 342]moment any one was wounded he was bandaged up and carried away on an ambulance.

One soldier was standing under a tree, holding three horses, when a Chinese shell dropped between him and the animals, and they were all killed, and gashed about in a fearful manner.

Interesting as it all was, I thought that it was wiser for me to go and see what the British artillery was doing a little further back along the embankment. It had not yet come into action. Thinking this a spot of comparative safety, as only occasional shells were bursting here, instead of a regular hail of them, I was just talking to some soldiers, when a shell exploded directly over our heads, wounding one man badly in the neck, and another slightly.

There being no prospect of an immediate advance, and this artillery duel continuing, I decided to go still farther back among the high corn nearly to the place where the Bengal Lancers were in reserve. I squatted down on the ground, and was writing up my notes, when some Japanese Red Cross men approached, and asked me whether this was a safe spot, as they wished to bring some wounded. On my answering in the affirmative, off they went, and presently returned with two stretchers on which were two Japanese severely wounded. I went to help them to lay down the poor suffering creatures, when a solitary shell exploded just above us, and again wounded one of the men on the stretchers.

There was some grim humour in the remark that the Japanese doctor made to me. “I think,” said he, in his quaint English, “you make mistake when you speak this place safe;” and he mimicked with his mouth the noise of the bursting shell, and with his hands the way in which the [Pg 343]different pieces had whizzed past our ears. “May be not quite safe, but you see I am Japanese! I may not know, you see.” And, with a comical gesture, he looked up towards the sky to see if more missiles were coming.

The Royal Artillery was now coming into action, the officers taking the range from the embankment. It was interesting to see how smartly the guns were brought up in position, but only a few shots were fired. Some of our gunners were wounded.

The Chinese were gradually slackening their artillery fire, and apparently withdrawing their guns, when General Fukushima sent word to the British asking that the cavalry might immediately be despatched to co-operate with the Japanese in the advance on the Chinese position. Somehow or other, the British cavalry never arrived, and the Japanese—only one regiment of artillery—marched forward alone.

The 41st Regiment led the advance with one battalion [Pg 344]on the left wing. The fighting was very severe, the Japanese suffering heavily, as can be seen by the series of photographs here appended, which I took on the spot.

The Chinese were gradually driven away from their lines of trenches, but made a stubborn resistance. The full-page photograph, which, unfortunately, owing to the light at the moment it was taken, is not as sharp as it might be, but which, being a document, I have left in its original state, shows the plucky Japanese taking a short rest owing to the fearful heat, after having captured one trench.

The second full-page shows a Chinese old gun on the second line of trenches firing on the Japanese. In the centre of the photograph a detachment can be seen dashing across the corn to storm the position while another [Pg 345]detachment attacked the position from the left side. Naturally the Chinese did not confine themselves to firing with a gun: Mauser, Mannlicher, and gingal bullets were falling thickly. Moreover, the Chinese were using Maxims with considerable success.

As we advanced from one trench to the next under this heavy fire, the plucky little Japanese dropped down, killed or wounded. Then a poor corporal, whom I snapshotted, rolled down, a victim to a bullet; the cross-page illustration is another snapshot which I took of the string of soldiers, wounded and killed, that we left behind on the field. To the left of the picture (page 344), in exaggerated proportions (as they were close to me), are the haversack, water-bottle, and muzzle of the rifle of the soldier just ahead of me, who was running and firing, avoiding to tread on the bodies of the fallen. In the foreground lies a man just killed, and, a yard or so further on, a couple more. A most tragic [Pg 346]scene had occurred in a few seconds. The one to the right wavered ahead of us, apparently mortally wounded. His companion stopped for a moment to support him, when he, too, fell dead by the side of his friend. It may be noticed that the distance from these bodies—taken just as they were falling—to myself was no more than three yards.

As the enemy was driven out of his positions and we came to their trenches, we found the Chinese soldiers we had killed, one of whom is represented in the next picture (page 345).

Chinese guns—The Japanese cavalry—Ten guns captured—Success after success—Maxims—An amusing incident—In the Chinese trenches—A ghastly spectacle—The Russian and French—The Japanese Engineers—Sharp fighting—To pursue the enemy—A report—The Chinese troops—A severe blow—A great battle—The pontoon bridge—Japanese Red Cross.

The Chinese guns were still giving considerable trouble, and the Royal Artillery had taken up a second position near the granaries (north of its first position), from which, as the Japanese were advancing so rapidly, it soon shifted again, and occupied a third position still further north.

In the meantime the Japanese cavalry, with a dash that could not be equalled, also charged the enemy, now retreating towards Pei-tsang village, and with great gallantry succeeded in capturing eight guns. The Chinese had, however, withdrawn nearly all the artillery from their central position.

The photograph shows a captured Chinese gun being taken away from its position by Japanese cavalry.

When once the retreat began, it was rapid, success after success being gained by the victorious army. One position after another fell, and the main body of the enemy was retreating even from Pei-tsang itself, but had left sufficient men to cover the retreat. Their heavy artillery ceased to [Pg 348]fire on us as we advanced, but they had some vicious Maxims which still poured lead into us.

One of these weapons was trained on a small bridge over a brook which we were bound to cross, and many a soldier was wounded in the hail of bullets that could not be escaped. The first soldiers who came unexpectedly into it fared badly. Fortunately I was not hit. Others made a passage under the bridge.

A curious incident happened. I saw a number of Japanese coolies running along, following the soldiers, and I had just time to shout to them “Abunai! Abunai!” (“Look out! look out!”), and while the bullets made a noise like hail on the wooden boards of the bridge the little fellows covered their heads with their blankets, as they would do in a hailstorm, and dashed across. One man was wounded in the leg.

When we reached the place where the road crossed the Chinese trench, a commanding position, where the enemy had placed three guns, we found interesting sights. The earthworks and trenches, several miles in length, had been [Pg 349]constructed with extraordinary skill, and in them stood the picturesque tents and sheds of the soldiers, many of whom now lay dead, mostly shot in the face. In the trenches themselves were thousands of empty Mauser and Mannlicher cartridges and packages of unused ammunition, while in the camp could be seen their cooking utensils, big bowls and vessels, in which, apparently, rice was being cooked when the attack began, as well as cups and swords and soldiers’ discarded clothes. By the roadside, where one gun had been, was a horrible spectacle.

A Japanese or British shell had apparently dropped in the midst of a group, and had frightfully mutilated one man; another, of whom I give a photograph, was not so badly gashed. His left leg, however, had been blown clean off. The missing portion of the limb can be seen to the right of the photograph.

As the British cavalry was not forthcoming, the Japanese filled the centre with their own infantry.

The enemy was now driven out of all his positions [Pg 350]except Pei-tsang village itself. The Russians and French, who, owing to inundations, had found great difficulty in advancing on the opposite side of the stream, were threatening them from the south-east, and the Japanese engineers were working hard at cutting roads and trenches along the banks of the river, notwithstanding the heavy fire of the enemy.

It was curious to note how many Chinese wounded had gone to hide in the cornfields, preferring to die there rather than fall into the hands of the Allies.

Sharp fighting took place near the village itself, but eventually the Japanese entered it, and put the enemy to full retreat.

The right wing (Japanese) was ordered to pursue and cut off, if possible, the flight of the Chinese, but the fighting had been very hard for these brave men—nearly eight long hours of it—and the enemy had a good start.

At Pei-tsang itself the fight was over at about noon. Sniping continued for some time afterwards from the fields on the opposite side of the Pei-ho. The Japanese and British, followed later by the others, pushed on directly to the second village, finding no further resistance.

I was talking to Generals Yamaguchi and Fukushima, when up galloped a cavalryman, who jumped off his horse, and, saluting, gave a report from the party pursuing the enemy. The Chinese were well ahead, with twelve flags and six guns. Their number was estimated at 6000, and they were falling back on Yangtsun.

The Chinese troops which had been fighting at Pei-tsang had been reported as 8000 in number, besides a great number of Boxers who had joined in the fighting. These, [Pg 351]like the soldiers, had been armed with excellent rifles, and provided with lavish ammunition.

There is no doubt that at this, the most important battle fought in the advance on Pekin, the Chinese troops received a blow from which they never recovered. They ever after offered no determined resistance, and although occasionally giving considerable trouble, were driven from position to position with comparative ease.

The battle of Pei-tsang was a great battle, well fought on both sides, and will always remain a fine page in the history of Japan, for the Japanese alone did practically all the work, and won the victory for the Allies.

Some little distance beyond Pei-tsang the Japanese captured a pontoon bridge, leading to a handsome but deserted Chinese camp on the other side of the river. There were a number of huge, conical white tents with flags. Here, too, [Pg 352]several cauldrons were found full of boiled rice, and large bowls with sundry vegetables—evident signs of an interrupted meal. The quantity of cartridges found was very large.

In the illustration (page 351) the camp can just be perceived in the distance, while almost in the centre, in the foreground, a man may be seen falling, shot in the head by the stray bullet of a sniper.

The Japanese Red Cross workers did marvels that day, and were kept very busy, for the Japanese losses were heavy. According to the official list, they had one officer and forty-one soldiers killed, eight missing, and twelve officers and two hundred and thirty-four soldiers wounded.

In the photograph, the men with stretchers were taken collecting wounded during the battle, under heavy fire. [Pg 353]Their Red Cross men were armed with rifles in battle, as can be seen in the illustration.

Eight guns were captured from the Chinese, and here I give a picture of them, with a proud officer standing by their side. Seventy muskets, a lot of ammunition, seventy-five swords and bayonets, and sixty-nine tents, were also seized.

The enemy in strong force—On the east bank of the Pei-ho—Transport troubles—Chinese mules and their ways—The Bengal Lancers—Enemy commanding a wedge-shaped position—The railway embankment—The line of battle—Slow advance under heavy fire—The 1st Sikhs and American Infantry—Russian Artillery—Brave Lieut. Murphy, Capt. Scott and Capt. Martin—Two single lines—Severe Orders—Chinese withdraw in good order—Chinese trenches—Enemy protecting their retreat—Chinese mistaken for French—Americans taken for Chinese—Pursuing the enemy—Casualties—An American funeral.

It was decided to follow up the Chinese at once to Yangtsun, and to give them no time to recover from the blow received at Pei-tsang.

The troops camped that night just beyond the pontoon bridge, and the Russians, French, and Austrians, being unable to deploy on their side of the river owing to the inundations, crossed over and joined the main body of the force on the west side of the stream.

One squadron of the 1st Bengal Lancers made a reconnaissance towards Yangtsun, discovered the enemy in strong force, and returned to camp during the night.

The troops began to march forward again at 6 A.M. on the 6th, and the Japanese (the Manabe brigade), with the [Pg 355]Russians, British, Americans, French and Austrians, all marched this time on the east bank of the river.

And here, with the rough roads, began the first and serious troubles arising from hastily-made transport arrangements. The heavily-laden carts sank deep into the road; the teams of Chinese mules, unaccustomed to foreign drivers, stampeded, kicked, and smashed harness and vehicles, and a considerable amount of strong language, in many different tongues, was consequently used on all sides.

Personally, I fared even worse. Having been unable to secure carts in Tientsin, I felt very proud of the artillery saddles, on which I had toiled for several hours, working like a saddler to make them fit my mules. The saddles looked very handsome (at least, to me) when they were finished; and when the moment came for starting we were able, with the assistance of eight American soldiers, four Chinese servants, and two Sikhs, to fix them on the backs of the mules, who, not being accustomed to them, gave us no end of trouble. Although I have had a great deal to do with mules, I have never found more vicious and tiresome animals than those of North China. It is probably because they are so ill-treated. The baggage was eventually properly fastened [Pg 356]on and duly balanced, and, barring a few mishaps, all went well the first day.

When I was about to leave Pei-tsang I discovered, much to my sorrow, that the mules had, during the night, kicked the saddles to pieces. A short journey in the neighbourhood with my Indian servant led to the happy discovery of an abandoned Chinese cart, and in less than no time a young Christian Chinaman who was with me made a harness with stray bits of rope and straps removed from the broken saddles. We then proceeded triumphantly with a nice team of three mules, and I had a spare splendid white mule to ride on.

Acting on the information collected by the Bengal Lancers the previous night, the British and Americans led the advance, marching about ten miles before coming into touch with the enemy.

The Cossack cavalry discovered the enemy commanding a strong wedge-shaped position formed by the railway embankment and the river, and intersected by a forked road. The Chinese left flank was protected by three guns near a building, and four hundred cavalry some distance beyond the railway embankment. There were also five guns to the north; five more stood still further back on the opposite bank of the river, commanding both sides of the road, directly across the iron railway bridge, and three others on the south side of the railway.

The railway embankment, being very high, and provided with a long platform near the station, furnished a commanding position, together with most excellent protection.

On the side of the Allies the line of battle was formed as follows: On the left, along the river, were the Russian infantry and artillery (4 guns); next to them, on the south, [Pg 357]and to the right, came the British Royal Artillery, the 1st Sikhs supported by the 14th United States Infantry on their right on the west side of the track, and the 9th Infantry, supported by marines; Reilly’s battery, six guns, and the Bengal Lancers, were on the east side. The Tskamoto Japanese brigade was held in reserve, and occupied the extreme right of the advance; while more Russians, with the 7th Bengal Infantry to their left, were near the Hsiao-chieh houses, and the French infantry behind them.

At about 1500 yards the line began to deploy with no very great opposition and in comparative safety, as there was fair cover from trees, undulations in the ground, and stray houses; but when only at nine hundred yards the advance became very slow, and was made under a terrific fire with no cover at all. As can be seen by a glance at the map, the wedge formed by the embankment of the road and that of the railway becomes gradually narrower, and eventually [Pg 358]forms a point at its northern portion. It was at this point that the 1st Sikhs and the 24th Punjab Infantry were forced forward in close formation, with K and M companies of the 14th United States Infantry by their side.

The 1st Sikhs advanced well until they found themselves in the narrow depression shown in the illustration, where they got penned in and were exposed to very heavy fire. They held fast to their position, while the Americans came along in skirmishing order. The 14th, which was ahead, when coming round the bend in the road, came under the fire of the gun which the Chinese had placed on the embankment near the water-tower, and also from the rifles of the Chinese infantrymen in houses and behind trees.

The Chinese, furthermore, were lining the whole parapet of the station platform, whence they kept up a hot fusillade. Their forces consisted of Imperial troops in the centre and well-armed Boxers at the sides.

The Russians, advancing from the same direction, fired volley after volley into the Chinese, and, having brought up their artillery, shelled the enemy with great effect.

The Sikhs were for one moment under such heavy fire that they could not advance. Those few of the Americans who were not exhausted by fatigue and the terrible heat, were ordered by Colonel Daggett, when at eight hundred yards, and under a withering fire from front and flank, to rush the Chinese position. A handful of them, led by brave Lieutenant Murphy, of the 14th, and a handful of plucky Sikhs, with Major Scott at their head, stormed the embankment, the Chinese running for dear life at their approach.

Lieutenant Murphy was the first to reach the position where the Chinese gun had been; then, a second later, came Scott with six Sikhs. Captain Martin, with six men of Company M (United States Infantry) and one man of Company I, arrived next. The Chinese were very smart, and dragged away their battery when the enemy was only three hundred yards off.

It was very gratifying to hear Captain Martin speak in most glowing terms of the behaviour of the Sikhs on this occasion, and one cannot find words sufficient to express one’s admiration for such men as Lieutenant Murphy, Captain Martin and Major Scott, whose feat on that occasion spoke for itself.

So narrow was the wedge when the Americans passed the Sikhs that they actually formed two single lines. When double time was ordered the Americans were so much exhausted from the long march in the morning—the attack began at [Pg 362]11 A.M.—and hunger and thirst, that many dropped on all sides and became delirious, or went clean out of their minds.

It was understood that, although wells had been passed, the American General had given strict orders that the men must not be allowed drink. Some of the fellows suffered agonies from the unbearable heat and dust, and the broiling sun; one soldier particularly, who had become a raving lunatic, with his tongue parched and frightfully distorted features, was making gestures to his companions to shoot him, because he could bear the pain no longer.

Once the enemy were dislodged from the high embankment the victory became easy. Captain Taylor, of Company I, 14th United States Infantry, was the first of the Allies to enter the village to the left, and Colonel Daggett reached the platform just in time to see the Chinese withdraw in good order up the river.

In their rear to the north the Chinese had one line of trenches on the road, one line at the bank of the river, and two lines across the plain. When the Allies had seized the top of the embankment, the Chinese infantry, having occupied their first line of trenches almost parallel with the embankment, and about eight hundred yards from it, opened fire principally from their left, to protect the retreat of their artillery.

They leisurely withdrew, gaily flying their standards. The American 9th, on the right flank, had a splendid opportunity of firing into them at short range, and working great havoc; but as the Chinese were dressed in blue, and flew white, red and blue flags, they were mistaken for Frenchmen and so escaped. Later, the French mistook the Americans for Chinese, and fired into them! Fortunately they did not hit anybody. When the first error was discovered it was too late to pursue the enemy effectively.

A worse mistake happened. Either the Russian or the British gunners (nobody seemed to know for certain) sent a few shells among E company of the 14th United States Infantry, killing eight and wounding nine.

The first Chinese trench was taken by a regiment of “supports,” and the others were evacuated.

Two squadrons, one being Hinde’s, of the 1st Bengal Lancers, went in pursuit of the enemy in the evening, and succeeded in killing fifty. One of General Ma’s flags was captured, and five standards, and so was a trumpet, with the trumpeter. Two lancers were wounded, and one horse shot.

The Japanese took no part in the engagement, the Yangtsun battle being over by 2.30 P.M., and only fired a few shots on the retreating enemy. The Japanese command of the division had come up by the right bank of the river, and only arrived at five o’clock in the afternoon, having been delayed by the difficulty of making temporary bridges over the river, which had overflown in many places.

The Americans and British, who had borne the brunt of the fighting, had a heavy list of casualties. American: 21 killed and 54 dangerously wounded. British: 46 killed and wounded.

The men were so much exhausted that a day’s rest was deemed necessary; besides, there was the painful duty of burying the dead.

Preceded by the brass band (the American was the only force among the Allies which had a band on the march to Pekin), the killed were brought up to a large grave, where a touching service was read, and then the bodies were laid to rest side by side until they could be conveyed at the expense of the State, back to America.

A day’s rest—Disgusting cruelty—Japanese in touch with the enemy—A Conference of Allied Generals—The Allied line of march—The French troops and their Commissariat—The Allied Cavalry—The Advance-guard fighting enemy’s cavalry—General Ma’s cook—Half-way to Pekin—Skirmish at Ho-si-wu—The Tskamoto brigade—Storming Matao—A surprise at Chang-chia-wan—Under cover—Intelligence of horses—A halt—Mahommedans.

The day’s rest was partly spent in washing faces and hands (the water of the river was not fit for bathing, owing to the number of corpses and dead horses floating in it); and partly in lying about in camp, trying to keep away tiresome flies, or devouring the contents of “canned tomato” and “corned beef” tins. When one got tired of these occupations, one went about to the different camps, where one was invariably received with much jovial civility.

A disgusting bit of cruelty took place a few yards from the American camp, owing to the misunderstanding of an order given by a superior officer.

A crowd of soldiers took before him (the American officer) a Chinese prisoner, with hands bound behind his back, who, they said, was a Boxer spy.

“Take him away,” was the reply, “and do with him what you d—— please.”

The fellow was dragged off, knocked about, punched and kicked. They took him under the railway bridge, and he was having a bad time, when a French soldier appeared on the scene, and pulling out his revolver shot him in the face. With his skull smashed, the man fell, and lay still breathing and moaning, with a crowd of soldiers around him, gloating over his sufferings. The same French soldier fired another shot at him as he lay, and then a Japanese soldier stamped on him.

The poor devil, who showed amazing tenacity of life, afterwards had all his clothes torn off him, the soldiers being bent on finding the peculiar Boxer charm which all Boxers were supposed to possess. For nearly an hour the fellow lay in this dreadful condition, with hundreds of soldiers leaning over him to get a glimpse of his agony, and going into roars of laughter as he made ghastly contortions in his delirium.

Although this was brought to the notice of the superior officer, nothing was done to stop the unwarrantable barbarity, and the absence of interference was of course taken as an encouragement. This was particularly painful to most officers of the Americans, and to the majority of the American boys, who were as a rule extremely humane, even at times extravagantly gracious, towards the enemy.

While the others were resting on August 7, the 41st Japanese regiment, commanded by Lieutenant-Colonel Ohara, came again into touch with the enemy, and had a skirmish near South Saison, which was occupied by the Japanese at three o’clock in the afternoon.

At this place a conference of the Allied Generals was held, at which it was decided that the Japanese, Russians Americans and British should advance towards Pekin on the [Pg 366]following day, August 8. The order of the Allies in the line of march was to be: Japanese, Russians, Americans, British.

It was also decided that the Japanese and Russian forces should alternately send one battalion of infantry to the left bank of the river. The various contingents would again collect at Tungchow for further consultation, before making a rush on Pekin.

Owing to the unprepared state of their commissariat, which made it almost impossible for them to continue their march, the French troops were left at Yangtsun to guard the communications.

The Japanese, Russian and British cavalry were placed under the command of the Japanese senior cavalry officer, Colonel Morioka.

August 8. The Japanese advance guard of General Yamaguchi’s division, at the head of the Allies, and commanded by Lieutenant-Colonel Ohara, started at eight in the morning, followed by the main body of the army under Major-General Manabe.

The advance guard had some fighting with the infantry and with 300 cavalry of the enemy. The Chinese, after firing a few shots at long range, ran out of their position and retreated on Hu-chin-shien. The Japanese lost three men in the brush with Ma’s horsemen, but succeeded in capturing General Ma’s cook, who volunteered the information that the Chinese troops were demoralised and fast breaking up, a portion of the army moving towards Pekin, the other part returning to the southern provinces, whence it had come.

The Japanese advance guard, when 2500 yards from the [Pg 367]town of Ho-si-wu, discovered the enemy in the south end of the village. The Chinese opened fire, but the Japanese stormed the position, and the enemy ran away in confusion. A number of them were killed, and some Japanese were wounded in going through the town by treacherous snipers concealed inside houses. The town had been ransacked by Boxers and Imperial soldiers prior to our arrival, and this was the case with nearly every village we passed through.

Ho-si-wu was captured at 8.50 A.M., and from some of the inhabitants made prisoners it was understood that the enemy was here ten thousand strong, and under the supreme command of Generals Ma and Lü. They had abandoned the position at the approach of the Allies, after making a half-hearted defence.

After resting here awhile, the march was continued towards Matao, and the enemy, who had retreated from Ho-si-wu, was now reported ready to fight us at the walled town of Shan Matao.

I was then with the Japanese advance guard, composed of light cavalry. We started the next morning, the 10th, [Pg 368]at 3.30 A.M., and at 4.30 the Tskamoto brigade followed. At Matao itself we had a skirmish with the enemy, and easily succeeded in putting them to flight.

The photograph given on page 367 shows the Japanese advance storming Matao, and the ammunition boxes being taken to the front.

The right and left wing had come together again in one body, at An-ping, and having passed Matao spent the night at Shan-Matao.

The Allied cavalry started again at 3.30 the next morning (the 11th), followed by the Tskamoto brigade and the other Allies. When the advance guard reached Kao-tchan, south of Chang-chia-wan, we suddenly came in for a surprise. We were riding gaily through a narrowish street of the suburbs, and had arrived at the bridge, when we were received with [Pg 369]a few well-aimed shells, which compelled us quickly to turn back and get under cover of the houses.

The Chinese continued their shelling for some time, but fortunately the shells passed over our heads, and exploded farther away.

It was most interesting to note the intelligence of horses on such occasions. It seemed as if they knew the danger, and what was the best way to protect themselves. As can be seen by the photograph which I took at the time, the horses were leaning one against the other, packed close against the wall that gave them cover.

Some Japanese infantry came up, and at the same time the left wing reached the gate of Chang-chia-wan, while we galloped down the side of the canal under a pretty thick fusillade and occasional shells. The enemy, however, were very careful to withdraw their artillery in time, covering the retreat of their guns with rifle fire. The enemy escaped in two directions, some to the north-west and some directly north on Tungchow.

A halt was called here that the Allies might make preparations for an assault on the large town of Tung-chow, which they believed to be strongly garrisoned.

Chang-chia-wan was an interesting place, mostly inhabited by Mahommedans, who had a handsome mosque near the city wall. The priests, with their pointed blue or whitish caps, were very intelligent and good-natured—quite a contrast to the Buddhist bonzes. They were much disturbed by seeing houses of Mahommedans flare up, as they professed that the Mahommedans were friends of foreigners, not enemies.

The simplicity of their mosque and quarters as compared to the elaborate, showy display in Buddhist establishments [Pg 370]commended itself to one. The Mahommedans had no good word for the Boxers, who, they said, had looted the town and committed all sorts of atrocities on men, women and children, while the Imperial troops, were no better than the followers of the Ih-hwo-ch’uan. The greater part of the troops, they said, had left the town the previous day, and only a small number of soldiers had remained to defend the town. Asked whether they believed foreigners in Pekin had been murdered, they pulled long faces, and feared the worst. They seemed to have a perfect horror of the Boxers.

Selection of camps—Corn-fields—Maps—The way to Pekin—A picturesque temple—The red and the black-faced God of War—A pale-faced god—Stifling heat—Japanese and the water-melons—British—Indian—The Russian soldier—Kitchen on wheels—Prayers.

In my moments of leisure, if one may call them so, and when there was no fighting going on, I took special delight in going to visit the various camps of the Allies, or in riding backwards and forwards to see how the different troops were marching.

I was particularly impressed by seeing how clever and sensible the British, the Russians and the Japanese were in selecting their resting-grounds, and how shockingly unhappy was the American General in the selection of a suitable camp for his men. In a suffocating climate like the one in which we were, the main point in selecting a camp was to get as much air as possible, besides, of course, water. The more open the better, a hill being preferable to a hollow.

Whether by carelessness or otherwise, the poor American fellows, who suffered terribly on the road to begin with, were invariably made to settle down at night in fields of thick Indian corn, which varied in height from four to six feet. Now, if there is one place where no sensible person would ever settle for a night’s sleep, it is a corn-field, for, [Pg 372]besides the want of air, there are myriads of mosquitoes, midges, and every other possible kind of plague such as one generally tries to avoid.

From the time the Americans left Tientsin till they were in Pekin, they were invariably given a camp of this kind, their General seeming to have a great liking for Indian corn. On one or two occasions, when there was unused, excellent camping ground only a few yards away, they were made to settle in these places, and no end of discontent naturally arose among the soldiers and officers.

The Americans, like the British, possessed inadequate maps, but somehow or other the British seemed to have a knack of finding their way about and taking care of themselves; whereas the Americans were constantly losing their way, and, exhausted as they were, had often to march several miles more than was necessary. When the soldiers did not lose their way the mule teams did, and occasioned uncomfortable delays in the feeding department.

All this could have been avoided with the greatest ease, and if I mention it at all it is because of the great interest I [Pg 373]take in the American soldier. He is a splendid soldier, and there is no reason why he should be made to suffer unnecessarily. The number that fell out of the ranks on the march was appalling, and it was a common saying that if you wanted to find your way—not the shortest—from Tientsin to Pekin, all you had to do was to follow the trail of blankets, water-bottles, haversacks, and other articles that the American boys had thrown away on the march, as they had not sufficient strength to carry them.

One day, when everything seemed pretty quiet, I stopped at a picturesque temple, in which was the red-faced god of war—the Boxer god—with his luxuriant black moustache and whiskers, and his chest in shining gold cuirasse, his legs wide apart, and his right arm raised in a threatening attitude. The god of war was garbed in his long coat of green, yellow and red, with sleeves and front adorned by dragons; his complexion, as befits his name, was of the reddest red, and he wore a helmet of gold, red and blue, with two horn-like arrangements behind.

To his right stood the black-faced god of war, with a fierce expression on his features, holding a spear in a menacing way in his hand, while the other hand rested defiantly on his hip. He too had a gold cuirasse and over it a short, tight-fitting flowered coat, while a dragon in all its length descended from his waist to his feet. The black-faced god had a gold sash, and gold and green leggings. His headgear consisted of a three-pointed hat.

On the left of these highly-coloured deities stood a pale-faced god, in a well-cut red jacket that fitted like a glove, and a handsome cloak, white, green and red. Although his expression was not pleasing—for he had a [Pg 374]snarling nose, bovine eyes, and Mephistophelean eyebrows—he seemed less fierce in his manner than his companions, and carried with great caution a box in a yellow wrapper. His boots were gaudy—all gold—but simple in design.

The red-faced god was evidently the most worshipped of the three, for, besides occupying the central position, an altar was placed before him with burners for joss-sticks. The remains of hundreds of these lay at his feet.

Some soldiers came in, and took special delight in punching the heads of these fearsome images; and while their beards were pulled off, and they were being knocked to pieces, I went out to see the troops marching past.

It was an unbearably hot day, and the dust was choking. The Japanese went steadily and well, but looked very much worn and overladen. They had come across some water-melon patches, and were all biting away at huge slices of melon. Some men dropped off every now and then, but the little fellows had such indomitable wills that when their physical strength failed their pride made them keep up with the rest.

The Britishers were taking things in a calm fashion, sprawling along in a pretty easy way; they were well fed and properly looked after, and did not seem to suffer quite so much as some of the other troops. They generally marched in the cool of the morning and evening, which saved the men considerably, instead of doing like the Americans, who marched in the hottest hours of the day.

The thin-legged Indian troops stood the march very well. There was, however, some fever and dysentery among them, and even more among the British white troops. With the [Pg 375]Americans, those who had not something of the kind were the exceptions.

The Russians were the only soldiers who stood the march in a magnificent manner. I never saw one single man fall out of the ranks, and although, of course, they felt the heat, they undoubtedly proved themselves to be, physically, by far the sturdiest soldiers of the Allies.

Their kitchens on wheels were very interesting, and proved of the greatest use. The Russian soldier was a born musician and singer. Music was his best friend, and he used it on every possible occasion. He sang when he marched, which made the road seem short and light to him; he sang when he was sad, when he was happy, when he was cooking, when he was praying. Indeed, one of the most impressive scenes one could imagine was presented on visiting a Russian camp in the evening.

Everything was bustle and noise; soldiers moving here and there; others lying flat, half asleep. At a bugle-signal, all stopped, and every man present sprang to his feet and humbly removed his cap. Then a chorus of musical [Pg 376]voices rose from the deep-sounding chests of the sturdy Cossacks in a fervent prayer to the Father Almighty, the Saviour, and the Virgin Mary. With the last appealing sound waves of the “Amen” fading away, down went the soldiers to the ground, and in a few moments, barring the sentries, the camp was asleep.

Nearing Tung-chow—Japanese artillery—A cut in the river bank—A midnight attack—Home-made guns—Gate blown up—A Deputation—Suicides—The British naval guns—Business as usual—An unlucky beggar—Severed heads—A faithful little dog—A well-earned rest—The advance-guard on a reconnaissance—A conference of the Allied Generals—To march at once on Pekin.

While the other troops took advantage of the day’s rest at Chang-chia-wan, the Japanese advance-guard pushed on ahead, and at 1 P.M. was again fighting the enemy, with whom they had caught up, and who was running before them. In this race they had reached within 3000 yards of Tung-chow, when they perceived with spy-glasses a great number of Chinese soldiers on the city wall and outside the town. The Japanese artillery was brought up 1000 yards from the city, and shelled the enemy till four o’clock in the afternoon. There seemed, however, to be no sign that an effective resistance would be offered.

On nearing Tung-chow we found that the Chinese had in one place cut a ditch across the bank of the river, so as to inundate the country. They had succeeded to a certain extent. In the photograph here reproduced Japanese sappers can be seen hard at work to prevent the flow of water. Their efforts, after some hours’ struggle, were rewarded with success. [Pg 378]When a sufficient number of troops had arrived at Tung-chow and encamped some little way outside the wall, the Japanese commenced an attack on the town at midnight. They were fired upon from the wall, the Chinese actually using some of their home-made guns, over a hundred years old. They had spread a quantity of these along the wall, and they were the most primitive kind of guns I have ever seen. Most of them had not even a gun-carriage, and were merely resting on the parapet of the wall. In firing them, one or two of these guns fell over the wall!

At 3.30 A.M. on August 12 the Japanese advance-guard reached the city gate, while the other troops were deploying, but no resistance was offered. One company of engineers blew up the gate with dynamite.

At 4.30 the whole army of the Allies entered the city by the [Pg 379]south gate, but a wing went in by the South-West entrance of the town. A deputation had been received saying that no fighting would take place if the lives and property of the people were safeguarded. In fact, in a few moments nearly every house along the principal streets was guarded by a Japanese soldier, and a Japanese flag of truce waved over every door. The Americans and the British remained encamped outside the town to the south, where good well-water was obtained and also some shade.

In the advance since August 6, after the battle of Pei-tsang, the Japanese had lost two killed and thirteen wounded.

Some women, in despair at having had their homes looted by Boxers and Imperial soldiers previous to their abandonment of the city, committed suicide by jumping from the city wall. Both soldiers and Boxers, of whom this important town had been full, had fled by the paved road to Pekin previous to our entry into the city.

As far as this point the Allies had naturally kept in constant touch with their transport, the communication being to a considerable extent by water. The British naval guns had also been brought up on boats, but were never used. From Tung-chow, however, the Pei-ho had to be abandoned, nor was the canal which joined Pekin to this town used in any way.

Most of the inhabitants of Tung-chow had bolted, but the shops and houses still remained in their original condition, and business was carried on as usual. But not for long. After a few hours the Japanese soldiers who were on guard were the first to break into the shops they were guarding, and the soldiers of the other Allies lost no time in imitating their example. It was, however, impossible for them to carry away much. By the afternoon the main street and [Pg 380]others were wrecked, and before nightfall a good many dead Chinamen were lying about. An unfortunate Chinese youth, a half-witted cripple, prowling about the streets begging, found on the ground a brand-new coat discarded by a runaway Imperial soldier. He joyfully garbed himself in it, and walked unconcernedly up the main street, where he was pounced upon by the Japanese, who mistook him for a soldier. He was roughly handled, beaten, tied hand and foot, and exposed at the corner of the two principal roads intersecting each other at right angles. The poor fellow was in a pitiable condition, and several hours later he was dead. As one rode about one saw strange sights. Carcases of horses decomposing fast in the sun, a mass of [Pg 381]moving maggots, houses burning, natives in the farther streets—nearly all men—stampeding in every direction at the approach of a foreigner, Chinese looting the houses of their neighbours at every turn. Here and there along the road hung to the wall, streaked and splashed with blood, heads severed from their bodies, the work of Celestial justice. Perhaps some of these poor devils were the messengers despatched from the Pekin Legations to Tientsin. In a side street, where most of the houses were smashed in or burnt down, a dear little dog stood, sad and restless, on the doorstep of a burnt-down house. He kept constantly looking up and down the street, evidently waiting for his missing master.

I rode down the same way several hours later, and there he was still, straining his eyes to the right and left in expectation of one who probably was no more. I tried to feed him with some biscuits I had in my pocket, but he would not eat, nor would he touch some water that I procured him. The poor thing looked starved and heart-broken. It was quite pathetic. He positively refused to leave the door, or I would have liked to have taken him with me. A more affectionate and faithful little dog it would be difficult to find.

The greater part of the day (12th) was spent by the soldiers in well-earned rest, but at night a battalion of Japanese infantry was sent to Pan-Chia-wo as an advance-guard, [Pg 382]and the Allied cavalry went for a reconnaissance towards Pekin through Huan-Kua-He. The Allied Generals held a conference, at which it was deemed advisable to follow up immediately the successes so far obtained, and not give the enemy time to recover his courage, and perhaps his strength. Although the allied soldiers were in a bad condition, and would have been all the better for an extra day’s rest, it was thought necessary to march at once on Pekin.

Having brought the reader practically to the gates of the capital, we will now for a while leave the allied forces and hear what had taken place in the besieged Legations while we were rushing up to their relief.

Transcriber’s Notes

For printer’s errors and other inconsistencies in punctuation, spelling, etc., only the changes listed below were made. Notes specific to Chinese characters are located at the end.

In-line and whole-page illustrations were moved to the nearest paragraph break.

Page numbers on the list of illustrations and contents were not changed.

Footnotes were reindexed and moved to the next paragraph.

Illustrations were moved to the nearest paragraph break.

Unique text on odd pages of the header were transcribed as Sidenotes and moved to the nearest paragraph break.

The middle dot “·” (which was used inconsistently) was silently standardized to a period “.”.

In the list of illustrations, “Page” was removed after the first instance.

On page xii “Pp.” was added to Chapter XXI.

On page xii “Pp.” was added to Chapter XXII.

On page xxi “Yamen” was standardized to “Yamên”.

On page xxiv “Page” was added after “MAPS AND PLANS” for standardization.

On page 27 “Empress Dowager” was standardized to “Empress-Dowager”.

On page 55 “coté” was corrected to “côté”.

On page 55 “reçevons” was corrected to “recevons”.

On page 55 “à légère” was corrected to “à la légère”.

On page 55 “parait” was corrected to “paraît”.

On page 56 two instances of “Ev.” were corrected to “Év.” i.e. “Évêque”.

On page 72 “coup d’état” was italicized for standardization in the starting paragraph.

On page 115 “gun-boat” was standardized to “gunboat”.

On page 120 “gun-boats” was standardized to “gunboats”.

On page 120 “U.S.” was corrected to “U.S.S.” in “The U.S.S. Monocacy took no part in the fighting”.

On page 123 “Monacacy” was corrected to “Monocacy”.

On page 144 a missing comma after “Russians, 7 killed” was added.

On page 151 in footnote 7 “reunion” was corrected to “réunion”.

On page 151 in footnote 7 “reponds” was corrected to “réponds”.

On page 151 in footnote 7 “precautions” was corrected to “précautions”.

On page 151 in footnote 7 “possible” was corrected to “possibles”.

On page 156 “atisfactory” was corrected to “satisfactory” in “A satisfactory proclamation”.

On page 163 a missing comma was added after “SHELLS” in the illustration.

On page 211 “melée” was corrected to “mêlée”.

On page 251 “YAMEN” was standardized to “YAMÊN” in the header.

On page 280 “Chrétienneté” was corrected to “Chrétienté”.

On page 292 “diner” was corrected to “dîner”.

On page 333 the single quotes around “Mi Tei.” were added.

On page 379 a missing period was added to the end of “to this town used in any way”.

On page 381 “a” was corrected to “at” in “stampeding in every direction at”.

On page 382 “reconnaisance” was corrected to “reconnaissance”.

On page 382 a missing period was added to the end of “VOL”.

Notes on Chinese

Inconsistent capitalization, apostrophes, etc. in transliterated Chinese were generally retained.

Chinese characters within illustrations were transcribed where possible. Chinese characters never appear in the caption of an illustration. Columns were transcribed in reading order, beginning with the rightmost column as the first line and the top character as the first character. The transcription is found before captioned text in the txt edition and within the alternative text for the html editions. Many of these illustrated characters are somewhat calligraphic in form, so alternative readings likely exist.

The cover features 義合拳.

The end-paper features triangle flags and square flags. All the square flags appear to have 督陣 written. Most of the triangle flags have an unclear character (either different or the same) on them. There are shields with 王. There is a high amount of variation in the writing.

On page 2 after “in the presence of strangers, so the character”, the character “和” was corrected to its present form. The original printed character resembled the corrected character in size and shape but with the 口 replaced with a 匚, resembling ⿰禾匚, a combination the transcriber cannot otherwise represent. The character 和 features in a few of the illustrations nearby.

On page 4 the illustration of 2 characters appears to refer to “Chu-fe” in the text. A current term to refer to the Boxers is 拳匪. The first character appears to be an abnormal variant of 拳, but could even be something less expected like 椎 or 榷.

On page 21 the second character in the illustration likely refers to 帝 from 關帝 (Guan Di), which matches the paragraph’s context. As an aside, Guan Di refers to Guan Yu, who featured in the Romance of the Three Kingdoms. In the print, the second character more closely resembles a derivative of 帝, such as 啼 or perhaps ⿰尺帝.

On page 22 the first line of the illustration is likely read from right to left.

On page 36 the illustration contains 2 columns of 5 characters each, some of which are unclear. The 4th letter of the 2nd column is particularly unclear, and could be 扜. Regardless, they appear similar to a part of the Lotus Sutra’s Universal Gate Chapter on Avalokitesvara Bodhisattva. Notably, the first line matches a couplet that is repeated, while the final two characters in the second line were replaced. In the sutra, the final two characters are 掣 and 電 instead of the 拆 and 閃 found here.

On page 229 the illustration of a receipt is too unclear to provide a sufficient transcription of a majority of the text. Broadly, the document appears to be a receipt or inventory of various cloth and their value in taels.

On page 233 the illustration of a document uses the … character to represent unclear characters. The middle 2 characters appear to be the name of the person who received the respective taels of silver. On the 9th line, the … appears to be a number, perhaps 四 or 貳 since the shape is similar to 囗.

CHINA AND THE ALLIES

PREFACE

CONTENTS

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

CHAPTER I

CHAPTER II

CHAPTER III

CHAPTER IV

CHAPTER V

CHAPTER VI

CHAPTER VII

CHAPTER VIII

CHAPTER IX

CHAPTER X

CHAPTER XI

CHAPTER XII

CHAPTER XIII

CHAPTER XIV

CHAPTER XV

CHAPTER XVI

CHAPTER XVII

CHAPTER XVIII

CHAPTER XIX

CHAPTER XX

CHAPTER XXI

CHAPTER XXII

CHAPTER XXIII

CHAPTER XXIV

CHAPTER XXV

CHAPTER XXVI

CHAPTER XXVII

CHAPTER XXVIII

CHAPTER XXIX

CHAPTER XXX

CHAPTER XXXI

CHAPTER XXXII

CHAPTER XXXIII

CHAPTER XXXIV

CHAPTER XXXV

CHAPTER XXXVI

CHAPTER XXXVII

CHAPTER XXXVIII

CHAPTER XXXIX

CHAPTER XL

CHAPTER XLI

CHAPTER XLII

CHAPTER XLIII

CHAPTER XLIV

CHAPTER XLV

CHAPTER XLVI

CHAPTER XLVII

CHAPTER XLVIII

CHAPTER XLIX

CHAPTER L

CHAPTER LI

CHAPTER LII

CHAPTER LIII

CHAPTER LIV

CHAPTER LV

CHAPTER LVI

CHAPTER LVII

CHAPTER LVIII

CHAPTER LIX

CHAPTER LX

CHAPTER LXI

CHAPTER LXII

CHAPTER LXIII

CHAPTER LXIV

CHAPTER LXV

CHAPTER LXVI

CHAPTER LXVII

CHAPTER LXVIII

Transcriber’s Notes

Notes on Chinese

CHINA
AND THE ALLIES