BEHIND THE SCENES IN PEKING
------------------------------------------------------------------------
FIRST EDITION . . . . . . . . _November, 1910_
_Reprinted_ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . _March, 1911_
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[Illustration:
_Photo, Elliott & Fry_
SIR ROBERT HART
_Frontispiece_
]
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BEHIND THE SCENES IN PEKING
BEING EXPERIENCES DURING THE
SIEGE OF THE LEGATIONS
BY MARY HOOKER
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS
LONDON
JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET, W.
1911
------------------------------------------------------------------------
PREFACE
It does not fall to the lot of every woman—or man, either—to go through
a siege, especially one so remarkable, and, indeed, unique in many of
its features, as that of the Legations in Peking.
The feeling that my experiences were out of the common, and present new
aspects of famous events, during which I was, to a certain extent, at
the same time on the stage and behind the scenes, has induced me to
publish the following pages. They are taken from letters, owing to
circumstances never sent, and my diary, written spasmodically throughout
the siege. While trying to introduce something of the lighter side of
life, and speaking of various incidents, humorous and otherwise, I have
endeavoured to avoid all that can give offence or displeasure to those
mentioned. If in any case I have unwittingly failed in this endeavour, I
crave pardon.
My thanks are due to Mrs. Woodward for giving permission to reproduce
her unique siege photographs.
MARY HOOKER.
_September, 1910._
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LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
TO
FACE
PAGE
SIR ROBERT HART _frontispiece_
WHITE PAGODA IN THE TEMPLE OF LINGUA SU 2
HERBERT SQUIERS 14
RUSSIAN MARINE GUARD 16
CAPTAIN M^cCALLA COMMANDING THE AMERICAN MARINES 16
CH’IEN MEN GATE 24
BARON VON KETTELER 26
BARRICADE BETWEEN THE AMERICAN AND RUSSIAN LEGATIONS 30
READING THE SENTENCE OF DEATH TO THE BOXERS CAUGHT IN 30
THE RUSSIAN LEGATION
THE TSUNG-LI YAMEN 44
BARRICADE ACROSS THE CANAL TO THE FU 50
SANDBAG BARRICADE IN AMERICAN LEGATION 50
MRS. R. S. HOOKER 68
CAPTAIN JOHN T. MYERS 100
MRS. SQUIERS 110
LOADING THE “INTERNATIONAL” 116
AMERICAN AND RUSSIAN MARINES AT WORK ON THE BARRICADE. 116
BARON VON RAHDEN ON THE RIGHT
SIR CLAUDE MACDONALD 120
EDWIN H. CONGER 136
A GATE INTO THE IMPERIAL CITY 154
GENERAL A. R. CHAFFEE 160
GENERAL SIR ALFRED GASELEE 176
THE RESULT OF THE SIEGE: IN THE AMERICAN MINISTER’S 192
HOUSE
THE RESULT OF THE SIEGE: FRENCH LEGATION RUINS 192
MRS. HOOKER, MISS ARMSTRONG, LADY MACDONALD’S LITTLE 196
GIRLS, FARGO SQUIERS, AND COLONEL ARTHUR CHURCHILL
COAL HILL 202
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
_THE FORBIDDEN (PURPLE) CITY IMPERIAL CITY_
]
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BEHIND THE SCENES IN PEKING
_May 26, 1900._
When you were in Peking last year I don’t know whether you got out to
the hills or not. They are about fifteen miles from the imperial city,
and are the nearest point where foreigners can find relief from the
insufferable heat of the capital, which begins with an intensely hot
spring, continuing through a long, damp, sizzling summer.
Many of the diplomats have cottages and bungalows at Pei-ta-ho, on the
seashore, but its distance from Peking is a great drawback to it as a
summer residence, and they have been forced to accept the hills, as a
nearer and more practical place for their summer colony.
A large, commodious house has been built here for the British Minister,
as well as one for the officials of the Customs, both within their
respective compounds. The greater part of this colony, however, have
simply leased temples from Buddhist priests, and converted them into the
most attractive and livable summer homes, the American and Russian
Legations being the principal of these.
A huge, white pagoda, belonging to the temple of Linqua Su, in the
centre of this district, with its temples of Buddha and houses of its
priests surrounding it, is perched on the top of a hill at the base of
Mount Bruce, and for miles around is the most picturesque feature of the
landscape. In the highest point of this pagoda is hung a wonderful bell,
the only motive-power of which is the wind, and which was placed there
by the Chinese to frighten the evil spirits of the air. When the breeze
is strong, which is often the case, the bell seems to thresh itself into
a veritable fury, and again at midday, when the breeze is light, one can
just distinguish the faintest tinkle.
[Illustration:
WHITE PAGODA IN THE TEMPLE OF LINGUA SU
]
High up in these hills, and built on the sides of Mount Bruce, stand
these temples with their subordinate and associated buildings, each
making up a separate community. Ours is somewhat above the temple of
Linqua Su, with its white pagoda, and is built on a most wonderful
natural shelf of the mountain-side. A terrace, edged by a low,
ivy-covered parapet, runs the length of our temple home, from which we
look right out on the world beneath us, down the valley towards Peking;
or, if we look above us, it is to see Mount Bruce rise perpendicularly
against the sky. Ancient and big are the stones that pave the outer and
inner courts of this temple, and as picturesque as they are difficult to
use are the stone steps, formed of heavy and irregular slabs, which lead
down to the valley or ascend up unto the mountain, from which steps
finally emerge innumerable tracks, leading in their turn to shrines,
homes of hermits, and temples built on this continuous ridge. Nor is
this barbaric and ancient setting for a modern life made less
extraordinary by the fact that one is served by quiet, intelligent,
besatined servants, who glide about and look as if they had stepped into
life straight from the half-fabulous days of Kubla Khan; and you feel
they have always been thus, and always will be, and you wonder how it is
that although the spirit of the twentieth century is certainly felt in
China, it is little seen.
_May 27._
To-day we started off on a long tramp, making first the ascent of Mount
Bruce, which was so difficult at times that we could scarcely accomplish
it, and had we not had the help of a young house-servant, known to us as
“Number Three Boy,” I doubt if we could have reached the summit. The
wind whistled round the high peaks of Mount Bruce to such an extent that
Mrs. Squiers and I had to hold on to each other to keep from being blown
off our feet.
From here we could see the Empress-Dowager’s summer palace and grounds,
spread out below us like a toy garden, with its wonderful landscape
effects and its series of artificial waterways. Then, perched high up on
a mountain, we could see a white temple belonging to the eunuchs of the
palace, and reserved solely for their use during the summer months; and
to the west the Feng-tai station of the Peking-Paoting-fu Railway,
winding through the valleys below us like a piece of grey thread. We
then walked through the enclosure of the temple occupied by the Russian
Legation, and in passing through a half shrine, half summer-house, most
unexpectedly came to a wall upon which was drawn a rough but cleverly
executed head of a lovely young girl. It was done in coloured pastels,
and had been drawn by some artist diplomat. The subject was the Countess
Marguerite Cassini, niece of the Russian Minister, who had been
stationed in Peking some years previous. It was a beautiful bit of work,
and was especially startling when seen surrounded by the hideous,
grinning faces of Buddhist gods.
Heading for our own temple of Linqua Su, we walked miles, keeping to the
top of a ridge, where the views were gorgeous and the air wonderful, and
quite suddenly came upon a shepherd and his flock. Fancy it, a Chinese
shepherd tending his Chinese sheep! His expression was gentler and
happier by far than that of men leading a like monotonous existence in
the mountains of Switzerland or elsewhere in the West. Could it be that
there the shepherd longs to return to the life in the villages, while
here the life of the poorest classes in the village communities is so
hopeless a struggle that individual members are glad to leave the
hopelessness of it and tend their flocks alone upon the mountains? This
fascinating China! you have been here, and you know it. I must not bore
you with my impressions, for if I attempted such a thing these letters
to you would assume the proportions of an encyclopædia.
_May 27_
(_continued_).
Mr. Squiers returned to the American Legation this morning. He only gets
out to the hills twice a week in time to dine and returns to Peking the
following morning. He tells us that the Boxers daily become more daring,
but the diplomats and people in general put these things down to the
usual spring riots which yearly seize Peking, and are due to hunger and
disease, prevalent among the poorer classes after a long, hard winter.
Nevertheless, it was deemed wise to inform the Tsung-li Yamen (the
Foreign Office) that we were in the hills at the temple of Linqua Su,
and would expect official protection from all rioters or malcontents who
might be in this region, and a guard of twelve Chinese soldiers was
promptly detailed to protect “nos personnes et nos biens.” But _such_
soldiers!—opera-bouffe mannikins in a Broadway theatre would frighten
one with their martial air compared to these ridiculous apologies for
soldiers, which were sent to us for our protection, their only weapons
being dull-pointed rusty spears!
Clara, the German governess, returned from Peking to-day, where she had
gone to do some shopping, and tells us that all the natives she passed
seemed to be armed, and that in all the temple enclosures companies of
Chinese were being drilled.
Our servants, mostly native Christians, assure us that these people are
all Boxers, most of them flaunting the red sash, the insignia of that
Society, and that they are preparing for a general uprising when the
time shall be ripe—an uprising that has for its watchword, “Death and
destruction to the foreigner and all his works, and loyal support to the
great Ching dynasty.”
_May 28._
The peace that settles on one after a long tramp in the mountains was
rudely broken up for us a short while after our return from our walk
yesterday, when we found ourselves thrown into the midst of a most
exciting situation, from which we knew the chances were about even
whether we should escape with our lives.
We could see from our mountain balcony that the railroad station at
Feng-tai, with its foreign settlement, was burning. The immense steel
bridge was gone, too, showing that dynamite and high explosives had been
used to destroy it. The locality was thick with smoke and the flames
sky-high. Our servants told us our highly picturesque guard of twelve
had run away as soon as they were sure the Boxers were burning Feng-tai,
for, they argued, the mob will surely sack this foreign-devil temple
when they finish with Feng-tai. Since they had begun, they certainly
would not desist until everything foreign this side of Peking was sacked
and burned, and this guard had no desire to pose as the guardians of
foreigners, but thought it much safer to join the so far victorious
rabble at Feng-tai. We also learned that over a hundred men engaged in
agricultural and other peaceful occupations in and around the temples,
of which ours was one, had left during the day to join the Boxers.
Our position now, to say the least, was critical. Not a foreign man on
the place to protect us; a quantity of badly frightened Chinese servants
to reassure; three children, their governesses and ourselves, to make
plans for. We did what women always have to do—we waited; and our reward
came when we saw down in the valley a dusty figure ambling along on a
dusty Chinese pony, coming from the direction of Feng-tai and making
direct for our temple. It was Dr. Morrison, correspondent of the London
_Times_, and an intimate friend of the Squierses.
On hearing early in the day of the mob at Feng-tai, and the burning of
the place, he promptly started off in that direction to get as near as
possible to the scene of action, and ascertain for himself if the wild
rumours circulating in Peking were truths before cabling them to London.
Finding the worst corroborated by what he saw from a point near the mob,
yet unseen by it, he started on his return trip to Peking, hot haste for
the cable office, when he became oppressed with the startling
remembrance that we were at the temple, and probably alone and
unprotected. So, instead of returning to Peking, he promptly came to us.
He feared lest Mr. Squiers had not heard of the burning of Feng-tai, or,
if he had heard of it, that possibly the city gates might be closed
against the approaching mob, and he might be unable to leave the capital
that night. The fact that our temple was directly on the line of march
to Peking for the rioters made it look to Dr. Morrison as a most
probable possibility that they would stop _chez nous_ before proceeding
to the capital. In case of such horrible eventuality he hoped to defend
us for a while, and to send to glory as many Chinese as possible before
turning up his own toes!
He was studying a possible defence of our balcony-home when Mr. Squiers
arrived post-haste, bringing with him a Russian Cossack, whom he had
borrowed from the Russian Minister. Plans were now made to defend the
place from attack or incendiaries during the night. The Chinese servants
worked with a will—our successful defence meant safety for us and life
for them. Sentry work of the most careful sort continued all night, as
well as the packing up of our clothes and valuables.
At 6 a.m. we were _en route_ for Peking—an enormous caravan—most of us
in Chinese carts, some riding ponies, mules, or donkeys, the forty
servants placing themselves wherever they could—_anywhere_, in fact—so
that they should not be left behind. The three protectors, heavily
armed, rode by us, and three or four of the Chinese were armed also, and
the carts held such a position in the caravan that in a moment they
could be swung round as a defence in case of an attack.
The fifteen miles through which we travelled were utterly deserted
except for the long, lonely lines of coal-carrying dromedaries. It
seemed as if the country people _en masse_ had deserted their villages
and gone to some rallying-point for a demonstration; and how anxiously
and slowly each half-hour of the trip passed, for, while it brought us
nearer to our Legation, it also brought us nearer to the possibility
that our caravan would run into yesterday’s rioters with added numbers
of to-day’s malcontents.
At 10.30 we reached the American Legation compound, and most painfully
but thankfully we untwisted ourselves from the awful position we were
forced to take in the cart, and joyously grasped the hands of friends.
William Pethick, Li Hung Chang’s private secretary for twenty years, a
person of tremendous influence with the Chinese, was in the compound,
and was on the point of going to the War Office to demand a regiment to
go with him to our rescue out in the hills. He had feared for us
desperately during the night following the burning of Feng-tai.
_May 30._
The times have become so dangerous that no women are allowed to leave
the compound, but, of course, the diplomats and the military—such as are
here—must move about and try to find out what the situation really is.
The people who know the most about it are the most pessimistic as to
what may happen before the marines arrive from Tien-tsin.
We were glad to hear that the Belgian officials at the Feng-tai station
had heard of the intentions of the Chinese to burn them and the place,
and had escaped to Peking without loss of life.
All the Legations that have battleships at Taku wired some days ago to
them, and we are looking for a total of about three hundred marines of
all nationalities to reach Peking at any moment.
Legations, such as the Belgian and Austrian, which are some distance
from the Legation centre, are forced to do constant sentry work to guard
against thieves and incendiaries; the Ministers’ secretaries, and their
foreign servants take turn night and day. They are so surrounded by
small streets and alleys that a few rioters could rush their Legations
easily, and they are forced to keep the most alert watch. Melotte, the
big blonde Belgian secretary, came to tea to-day, and gave us a most
vivid description of the difficulties of their tiny garrison.
Sir Robert Hart, the beloved Inspector-General of the Customs, dropped
in also, and, while he seems fairly sanguine about the present
situation, I must say the tales of China and the Chinese that he
unfolded to us were quite terrible. Especially the massacre of the
Portuguese at Ning-po in 1870 by the Chinese in retaliation for their
having taken so much of the Yangtse River trade made a stirring story
when coming from his lips.
He was with that fascinating Englishman commonly known as “Chinese
Gordon” when he was the central figure in the history of China during
the early part of this century, and when Sir Robert was quite a young
man. I was so obviously spellbound by these real reminiscences that, to
my surprise and joy, he offered to send me, on his return to his
compound, a photograph of himself taken with Gordon, marked with the
latter’s autograph. I can’t say, however, that his visit reassured us in
our present dangerous situation.
Before leaving he looked at Mr. Squiers’s wonderful collection of
antique Chinese porcelains, which Mr. Pethick, a connoisseur in these
things, has collected for him. The Dana Collection was also procured by
him. Sir Robert is certainly a delightful person, and the cobalt-blue
tie twisted into a most unusual knot around his low collar gives his
personal appearance a tinge of rakishness and eccentricity.
This afternoon Dr. Morrison and some Customs students rode down toward
the station of Magi-poo to take a look at the congested market-places
and collections of angry rioters. Directly they were seen they were
furiously stoned, but as their Chinese ponies were fleet of foot, they
escaped with a few bruises.
_May 31._
All day to-day everyone is wondering, “Will the marines get here
to-night?” A wire came through Admiral Kempff, saying they were
entrained. Last night we dined at Sir R. Hart’s, and danced until
twelve. He has two bands, brass and string, of Chinese musicians whom he
has taught. The secretary of the German Legation took me out to
dinner—Von Below, a most soldierly-looking person.
[Illustration:
HERBERT SQUIERS
]
_June 1._
Mr. Squiers, secretary of the Legation, and Mr. Cheshire,
interpreter-secretary, met the troops at the station last night at 8.30.
The marines of the United States, England, Russia, France, and Japan,
formed the contingent of 365 men which were sent up from Tien-tsin by
the fleet. They would have arrived earlier in the day, but the British
in Tien-tsin had tried to send 100 marines instead of the 75 for which
the Tsung-li Yamen had given them permission. The Chinese were obdurate,
so the delay was caused.
When this polyglot contingent landed at the station in Peking there was
great excitement as to which nationality should lead. Captain M^cCalla,
who had come up with our fifty marines, hurried his men at the
double-quick to get it, and our troops were the first to march up
Legation Street. There was an enormous mob at the station, but no
demonstration was made except to hurl and howl curses on the soldiers’
ancestors.
Mr. Squiers, who is one of the most hospitable people in the world,
received Captain M^cCalla and the marine officers in a delightful
manner, and did everything possible for them in an official and personal
way. He was an officer in the army before entering the diplomatic
service, which makes his help and advice invaluable in procuring
quarters for the marines, and other arrangements.
_June 3._
Yesterday Captain M^cCalla took the eleven o’clock train, with his
secretary, back to Tien-tsin, to join his ship, the _Newark_, after
having had a long talk discussing the situation with the Minister. We
suppose Admiral Kempff will be up in a day or two, as his visit has been
put off already several times.
The bad and suspicious part of this affair is that the Boxer outrages
are not being punished by the Government, which proves that they either
fear the perpetrators or sympathize with them. One hears from all sides
that the Chinese soldiers are Boxers at heart, and would not fire on
them if ordered to do so. The people who will suffer first from these
riotous fanatics, if they get much worse than they are now, will be the
Chinese Christians.
[Illustration:
RUSSIAN MARINE GUARD
]
[Illustration:
_Copyright, M. S. Woodward_
CAPTAIN M^cCALLA, COMMANDING THE AMERICAN MARINES
]
The heat is becoming insufferable, and the children of the diplomatic
corps are showing the bad effects of this enforced confinement. The
British Minister’s wife, Lady Macdonald, has sent her little girls back
to their legation bungalow in the hills, in the care of her charming
sister, Miss Armstrong, with a guard of thirty marines. We cannot solve
the problem in our Legation this way, as our guard is so much smaller.
_June 5._
We expected Admiral Kempff yesterday from Tien-tsin, but the train did
not come through, and we do not know whether he was on it or not. The
invitations for a dinner in his honour have been cancelled.
Mrs. Brent, with whom I am to return to Japan, has sent me word to be
ready to-morrow to take the morning train to Tien-tsin. So far all the
trains from Peking down seem to get through, although the trains up are
irregular. Rumour comes that yesterday two more stations were burnt, one
on the Hankow line and one on the Tien-tsin line, but the actual tracks
are not destroyed.
Everyone feels that this is the time to leave Peking—everyone, at least,
who is not bound to remain to protect interests they have in charge—and
to-morrow surely the exodus will be large. Captain Myers, in command of
the United States marines, and Captain Strouts, of the British marines,
had a long consultation to-day about these incredibly outrageous Boxers,
in case they should dare impertinences on the Legations. Should we be
forced to leave our American compound, we will go to the Russian
Legation, which has a stronger defensive position than ours.
_June 7._
Yesterday I was ready to start with Mrs. Brent, when a letter came for
Mrs. Squiers from Sir Robert Hart, saying he thought the train would
eventually “get through” to Tien-tsin, but that his secret service
agents had informed him that there were rioters and Boxers at several
stations prepared to stone the passenger coaches, and he urged me not to
attempt the trip. He wrote: “Things must get better soon or very much
worse.”
Captain Myers and his men were up all night guarding the compound. This
United States Legation is such a wretched little irregular place to
defend—it could so easily be fired.
The atmosphere of the compound is distinctly exciting. The quintessence
of American interests are discussed right here in the open air, under a
few scattered big trees, by people walking about gesticulating or
standing on scorching hot flagstones, which pave part of this enclosure,
arguing with one another as to how soon the _coup d’état_ will take
place, but all agreeing on one point—that a cable should be sent
immediately to the State Department in Washington before telegraphic
communication is lost; that nothing but a tremendous armed force can
free the Americans in Peking from a surely approaching massacre; that
many of the higher Chinese officials would try to protect us to the end.
But the fact remains, if the Boxers and rioters continue to increase in
numbers each day as they have been doing for the past week, it will be
the mob we will have to deal with, and not the Tsung-li Yamen.
In nearly every instance the persons who voice these sentiments are men
who have lived in China for years, who know the country, the language,
and the people. They know that the strength of the Chinese lies in
clever cunning and mob violence, that they cannot be trusted under any
circumstances.
These men all agree that China was never before in such a condition. Mr.
Pethick, familiar with every phase of tortuous Chinese government, forty
years a resident in China, and an intimate friend of half the political
leaders, knowing their weaknesses and wickednesses by heart, urges the
Minister to state to Washington the situation as it is, but all to no
avail.
The white dazzling star of optimism is blinding him to facts, and with
the British Minister to stand with him in his position, he says that the
Boxer movement is only a few fanatics, and the mobs and incendiaries are
but slight demonstrations of the yearly spring riots!
Dr. Coltman, a clever American physician of Peking, and a correspondent
for the _Chicago Record_, is sending to his paper some strong cables
about affairs here, but the United States are so saturated with yellow
journalism that probably his wires will not be believed. When we
complain to the Yamen about the trains running no longer from Peking to
Tien-tsin, as many ladies and children wish to leave, they smile and say
“they regret the present state of affairs, but that in a few days all
will be in working order again.” Mr. Pethick thinks they are not
allowing the trains to leave Tien-tsin because they don’t want any more
foreign troops to come to Peking.
_June 10._
A telegram arrived to-day from Tien-tsin, saying the second contingent
that they have been so madly telegraphing for these past few days had
practically seized a train and left at 10.10, that most of the track is
supposed to be all right, but they expect to have difficulty with an
occasional broken bridge. Captain M^cCalla is again in command of our
marines, and the combined forces of this relief party number 1,600. We
expect the train to arrive to-night, and, owing to the gates being
closed at sundown, they will have to spend the night outside. To-morrow
at daybreak they will be met with twenty carts for their ammunition and
luggage.
_June 11._
This morning Mr. Squiers, and Mr. Cheshire, and Captain Myers, with ten
marines, waited at the station for the troops from daybreak until eleven
o’clock, but there was no sign of them. The escort then returned to the
Legation. The telegraph was broken last night. We have no more
communication with the outside world; our world is this dangerous
Peking.
_June 12._
Such intense excitement! This afternoon the Japanese Chancellor of
Legation went down to the railway-station in the official Legation cart
to see if there were any sign of the troops. Returning by the principal
gate, he was seized by Imperial troops, disembowelled, and cut to
pieces.
Mr. Squiers had sent about the same hour his _maffu_ (groom) down to the
station with a pony for Captain M^cCalla in case the troops had come.
This man was also returning, after having waited there some hours, when
they—the Imperial Chinese soldiers—saw that he was some foreigner’s
servant, and tried to seize him, but he lashed both horses—the one he
was on and the one he was leading—and just escaped. On reaching the
Legation, he was so terrified he told Mr. Squiers he would have to leave
his service immediately and try to save his life by running away to
Tien-tsin.
Twenty of our marines have been sent with an officer to guard the big
Methodist mission near the Ha Ta Men Gate, which is still holding out.
Rumours are the only subject of conversation now. To have them refuted
or confirmed, a Russian bribed a reliable Chinese to go fifty miles down
the track and to report where the troops are. He could find no sign of
them. How very extraordinary! Where are these 1,600 men that left
Tien-tsin two days ago? He also reported that the track was broken in
several places.
To-day the house belonging to the British Minister in the hills, very
near our temple, was looted and burnt by the Boxers. Most fortunately,
Miss Armstrong brought the children back yesterday.
A Russian secretary, Mr. Kroupensky, has figures at the end of his
fingers about the number of troops Russia can land in Tien-tsin from
Port Arthur in a few days’ time, etc., and if things get much worse, the
Russians say it is more than probable their people will march on to
Peking by themselves to our rescue. Can we suppose they are trying to
prepare us for a Russian _coup d’état_?
Dr. A. W. P. Martin, a famous savant in Chinese classics and other
ancient languages, Director of the Imperial University in Peking, has
temporarily become the refugee guest of Mr. Squiers, his own house being
too unsafe for him to remain in. Mr. Pethick is also a guest in this
hospitable house. The British Legation is already crammed with
missionaries and refugees, who in their own quarters feared for their
lives, and were obliged to leave their missions near Peking, and
concentrate at some place capable of defence.
A message that has to be sent to the Tsung-li Yamen always gains more
strength by being sent from each Legation the same day. To-day the
Japanese were requested to join the others with this usual procedure,
but they answered simply: “Impossible. The Chinese have murdered our
Third Secretary of Legation, and Japan can have no more communication
with China—except war.”
_June 13._
All last night the sky was bright from the many fires in the Tartar
city—work done by the Boxers and soldiers. The Roman Catholic Church,
the “Tungchou,” was burnt to the ground, and all through the night the
Christian Chinese who lived near it were massacred. Other less important
missions have also been destroyed. Yesterday the people in the Austrian
Legation rescued a Chinese Christian woman who was being burned to death
very near their Legation wall.
[Illustration:
CH’IEN MEN GATE
]
Baron von Ketteler, the German Minister, considered some Boxer who
walked down Legation Street was impertinent to him, and chased him up
the street as far as the Russian Bank, where he finally captured him. He
was beating him over the head with his walking-stick even before the
fellow stopped, and the crowd that collected was enormous. Captain
Myers, Captain Strouts of the English, and Baron von Rahden, of the
Russian guard, seized this opportunity to make a kind of rush down and
up Legation Street, placing the Maxim-gun ready to use if necessary, and
in this way completely cleared it of Chinese from the Dutch Legation
down to the Italian. They had wanted to take this step for some time,
deeming it has now become necessary to take real measures for our
defence. They were glad of this excuse.
_June 16._
In the afternoon yesterday we were horrified at the number of big fires
that broke out in so many different parts of the Tartar city, and when
we saw that the Ch’ien Men Gate was blazing, and all the houses around
in the same condition, we felt we were in great danger. If this got a
hold, it would burn up the Legation district of Peking very quickly.
There are two parts of the city—the northern Manchu city, containing the
Imperial palaces and garrison, also the foreign Legations; and the
southern or Chinese city, containing the trading population, theatres,
and markets. Both parts are joined in the form of the letter =T=, the
leg or largest part being the Manchu city on the north, with walls 60
feet high, 40 feet wide at the top, loop-holed parapets 3 feet high at
the side, and square bastions 100 yards apart on the outside face. At
wide intervals along the inside face are pairs of inclined roads, 8 feet
wide, for mounting the wall. The total length of this rectangular wall
on the four sides of the Manchu city is about twelve miles. Joined to
this great wall on the south is the much lower and weaker wall of the
Chinese or southern city. All nationalities sent men, even these
traitorous Pekingese, to aid us in extinguishing the fire. The Imperial
fire-brigade arrived with great pomp, and could have furnished charming
costumes for some “extravaganza” in their get-up. They had no idea how
to put a fire out, but fortunately they had some hose, which, when used
in the telling places, proved most efficacious.
[Illustration]
Our men fought this terrible fire side by side with the Chinese, and
this goes to show how a common danger levels most things, even active
hostilities. The Cossacks worked exceptionally well. This fire had been
started by the rioters and thieves in the rich bazaar district of the
city, under cover of which they hoped to get much rich booty. The wind
being high, the flames gained great headway, and the tremendous Ch’ien
Men Gate was soon ablaze. By eight o’clock the fire was somewhat
controlled; but it burned all night, and when seen from the Great Wall
it looked like a huge torch.
_June 17._
Just one week ago to-day we got the telegram that the combined forces of
England, the United States, France, Japan, etc., now at Taku, numbering
1,600 men and over, had practically seized a train at Tien-tsin, and,
with workmen on board to mend the track where it had been derailed, had
left at 10 a.m. to go to the relief of the Legations in Peking. Night
and day, ever since that telegram came, we have been looking for them.
The day after we received the news that they had started the Chinese cut
the telegraph-wires, and so for one week we have been absolutely cut off
from all communication.
No messenger has been able to get through the city gates, as they are
carefully watched by the Chinese authorities, except—and I am proud of
this—except that one old man whom Mr. Squiers had been good to (he used
to be an old gardener of theirs) got through to Captain M^cCalla, who is
with Admiral Seymour, and is in command of 100 men—Americans. The
gardener had been able to deliver to him notes from Mr. Squiers, giving
him most important information about ways and means to get into Peking
in case they meet with opposition, and to bring back an answer, as well
as other notes from commanders of other nationalities, to their
respective Legations in Peking. From these letters we rather imagine
that this “Tower of Babel” relief party does not agree as well as it
might, but then, whoever expected a “Tower of Babel” to speak and work
in unison? Certainly never before the miracle!
So it is due to Mr. Squiers’s personal management that we or any other
nationality have heard anything from this party of 1,600 men, which
undoubtedly must be but the beginning of large numbers of troops for
what Lord Charles Beresford terms “the break-up of China.” Our Legation,
thanks entirely to Mr. Squiers’s efforts, is the only one which has been
in touch at all with the approaching column, and, by his minute
instructions, when they get here they will be able to advance into the
heart of our district—through the Water Gate—without having to take any
of the city citadel gates. They say that in all crises, political or
otherwise, some one man comes forward, takes the bull by the horns, so
to speak, and does a man’s work. Mr. Squiers, as far as all the
Americans here feel, is _the_ man in Peking.
The fighting, the weak and terrorized Government, the expected attack on
the Legations, the horrible massacre of the Chinese Christians, the
burning of all the missions, churches, and entire Christian communities,
and last, but not least, the continued attempts—made, we think,
principally by Boxers—to “burn the Legations out,” all go to make these
days very extraordinary ones.
Last night there was a scene enacted in our Republican compound that
would be a fitting climax to any Bowery play where Jake, the villain, is
finally run down. A regulation Boxer—red sash and all—was caught by a
Russian sentry in the act of trying to set fire to the outhouses of this
Legation. He was assisted into the compound by the Cossack who
discovered him, with no especial tenderness of manner, the Chinaman
still clutching the picturesque and glowing torch with which the
conflagration was to have been started. In three minutes coolies,
soldiers, gorgeously dressed Legation servants, the European men in the
compound, and we women, who were in the midst of our dinner, rushed out
to see what it was (as we did fifty times a day, so far as that goes),
to find this poor, writhing creature, who knew that he had nothing to
expect but death in the next half-hour, as he had been caught
red-handed. He was questioned, but to no purpose, and was then turned
over to the Russians, as they had been responsible for his discovery;
and, although we all knew that that nation dislikes prisoners, we were
hardly prepared for the bullet that, in less than ten minutes, whistled
clear as a bell on the night air, and told us there was one Boxer the
less in Peking.
[Illustration:
_Copyright, M. S. Woodward_
BARRICADE BETWEEN THE AMERICAN AND RUSSIAN LEGATIONS
]
[Illustration:
_Copyright, M. S. Woodward_
READING THE SENTENCE OF DEATH TO THE BOXERS CAUGHT IN THE RUSSIAN
LEGATION
]
Captain Myers has turned out to be a most competent officer, and the
British Captain Strouts and the Russian Captain von Rahden have worked
together splendidly for the object of saving our three Legations from
attack and fire. These Legations form a kind of triangle, our corner of
which is the weakest owing to its bad shape. The British compound is
excellent for defence, having strong, high walls, with stables or houses
at the corners, one side having the canal running parallel to it, and
the other having the Imperial carriage park.
When the time comes that the United States and Russian Legations can no
longer hold out, the British Legation will be the stage for a terrible
last act. So far, of course, things are not as bad as that, and fire is
what we dread more than the disaffected Chinese soldiers or Boxers.
Nevertheless, things got so critical the day before yesterday that food
for a week for our entire Legation was sent over to the British
compound, and each of us had sent over a dress suit-case with a change
of linen, brushes, etc., so that in the event of our having to leave our
Legation on the moment, we would not be absolutely comfortless and
unprepared for a siege of several days until Seymour and M^cCalla could
relieve us.
Yesterday things got so bad that our bugler played the “call to arms”
four different times, which is the signal here for all women and
children and all non-fighting men to appear at the big gate of the
Legation, and within five minutes from that time Captain Myers will
decide what must be done—whether the marines will escort us over to the
Russian or the British Legation. After each of these alarms, however, it
was decided not to send us quite yet. At the last alarm they kept us
waiting, all huddled together like sheep, for an hour. And such an hour
as it was—the constant reports of Mauser rifles, the absolute lack of
knowing what was happening!
But at one moment I was obliged to forget the terror of it all and look
at the humorous side. Mrs. Squiers was holding her youngest boy, a baby
of four, in her arms, busy in quieting him. Her other boys, Bard and
Herbert, were there, too, rather subdued, and last, but not least, our
little cortège was completed by the arrival of the French and German
governesses, each of them arguing violently in her respective
mother-tongue. Mademoiselle is a large woman of ample proportions in
wrong places, and she had her bosom filled with recommendation papers,
which she fingered nervously—they were all she was saving in the way of
valuables. Clara, the German governess, had forgotten what her valuables
were, and looked quite distraught with fear. She had a French clock in
each hand, and was telling me in broken English, German, and Chinese how
afraid and terrified she was. I said to her, “Gehen Sie mit mir,” and
she clutched my arm most painfully for the next half-hour.
As I have said, fifty men came to Peking from the _Newark_ on May 31,
and twenty of them with an officer were sent to defend the big Methodist
mission near the Ha Ta Men Gate, which, because of its area and large
stone church, is capable of a very good defence, and where all of the
American Protestant missionaries that are lucky enough to be in Peking
have gone. Much to Captain Myers’ disgust—it is so hopeless to divide
this small military force—the Minister insisted on sending this guard to
them, instead of having them brought into our defended lines.
Consequently, there is no officer to share the responsibility with him,
or to give his men a sufficient number of hours off duty during the
twenty-four. He himself gets about four hours sleep per diem, and that
has to be taken in cat-naps and in a folding-chair. He is liable to have
even that short period interrupted a dozen times by an over-anxious
sergeant, who wakes him up to come and see this or hear that. He
naturally feels the responsibility tremendously, and is on the _qui
vive_ at every shot. His men are in about the same condition. This
strain has been without relief for eight days and nights.
Of the thirty marines here, ten, Dr. Lippitt tells me, should be on the
sick-list, and imagine how they feel with a compound full of women to
defend against perhaps thousands of half-crazed fanatics who at any
moment may break into the Legation. Their work is splendid, and at all
times they are prepared for the worst, but the constant strain is
unimaginable.
Captain M^cCalla wrote in his letter, which Mr. Squiers’s old messenger
brought back to us, that he was in despair, as others in the relief
party were not hustling enough. Our cry by night and day is, “When will
the troops arrive?” Will they get here before or after some horrible
massacre?
The men in the compound carry their rifles with them at all times, even
when dining. Mr. Squiers a few days ago presented modern rifles with
ammunition to all missionaries coming to the Legation. Taken
collectively, these missionaries are a splendid lot of men, and are one
and all most grateful to him for these arms, given them in this moment
of awful danger to their converts, their families, and themselves. One
night all left the table four times to run to the outposts, where shots
and fighting were heard. In most cases, fortunately, they are not
serious alarms—a few venturesome Boxers or Imperial soldiers running
amuck in Peking after loot, who have decided to devil the foreigners.
About three days ago we expected the troops any minute; now we are not
so sanguine.
A detachment of men from the English Legation, our Legation, and the
Russian Legation, started off under an English officer to rescue some of
the thousands of Chinese Christians who are being burned and tortured by
their enemies like rats in their holes. The tales that reached us
through our servants, many of whom are Christian converts, and whose
mothers, fathers, and wives are undergoing this continuous St.
Bartholomew, made our men feel that we should try to do something for
their rescue, even if we were not successful. Fortunately this party of
men did not meet any large number of disciplined Chinese soldiers,
finding them only in small groups. They killed a great many, and one
could easily imagine how happy our men were to be able to kill these
wretches in the very act of burning, looting, killing, or torturing.
Sergeant Walker told me he had sent eight devils to glory; many of his
shots he had seen take effect, and others he hoped had done as good
work.
The “Nan-t’ang,” a Roman Catholic church, founded in 1600 by the early
Jesuit missionaries, was burnt by these Boxers, and as most of their
converts and families live around the church, one can well imagine the
slaughter that took place before it was finally fired. This is only one
instance of the many missions and churches where the same kind of thing
has happened. The Roman Catholics alone claim to have ten thousand
converts in Peking.
The Pei-t’ang is a large fortress cathedral, and capable of splendid
defence. It is the oldest and richest Roman Catholic stronghold. In its
dual rôle of church and military position, which in the old days used to
go hand in hand, this community reminds one of the wonderful and still
extant example of feudal power, the Mont St. Michel in Brittany, where
cathedral and fortress dominate the higher part, and its villages
cluster around the base. So here this Roman Catholic stronghold boasts
the same arrangements, only with added hospitals and orphan quarters. It
is a wonderful church to exist now, when the world is so old, and is
supposed to be so peaceful. The French Minister has sent a guard with
two officers to help Archbishop Favier, Superior of the Pei-t’ang.
In some instances hundreds of Christians thought it better to be roasted
in their houses and burnt to death than to try and escape. Then, of
course, the soldiers, Boxers, and thieves would loot the entire
entourage of these burning communities, and, having once begun, they
would not stop to inquire if the family were Buddhist or Christian. They
were busy in this pleasant work when our posse of soldiers arrived on
the scene of action, and the Chinese companies that had been detailed
for this work were so disorganized by their lust of loot and cruelties
that they were practically unable to attack us, and generally ran away,
except in some rare instances, when they would rally and fight.
Mr. Pethick and Mr. Cheshire would raise their voices in Chinese and
tell the terrified people to come with them and they would be saved.
Sometimes it was necessary to go into the houses to assure the people of
this help. On entering the houses they saw many horrible sights—women
and children whose lives it was too late to save. There was one small
square compound that the Boxers had burned, while in the inside there
was an entire family of Chinese Christians. The four walls were on fire,
and these people were tied hand and foot. Our men were unable to save
them in any way, and hastened to other places where they would not be
too late. Babies were seen being torn in two. The result of this
morning’s work was the rescue of about one thousand Chinese Christians,
who otherwise would certainly have been burned or killed within a few
hours.
The officer in charge had them brought up Legation Street, which has
lately been barricaded, and, except foreigners, no one is allowed to
walk or pass. Two big barricades have been made at each end, one beyond
the Dutch Legation, the other below the Italian Legation. And such a lot
of poor, wretched people I hope never to see again. Half starved,
covered with soot and ashes from the fires, women carrying on their
breasts horribly sick and diseased babies, and in one case a woman held
a dead baby. One man of about fifty years old carried on his shoulders
his old mother, who must have been every day of ninety years. She looked
so withered and wrinkled, one had to think of the burning of Troy and
Æneas. A great many of these people were terribly wounded—great
spear-thrusts that made jagged wounds, scalp-cuts and gashes on the
throat where the victim had been left for dead.
Dr. Lippitt, who came up with the marines, and the English and Russian
surgeons set to work, and tried to patch these poor people together
again, and they toiled, the three of them, steadily for many hours. I
have never imagined that such stoicism as these wretched creatures
exhibited could exist. They never uttered a cry or moved even when the
surgeons were operating on them.