not stay in the road; the Legations could not have them. Dr. Morrison
and Dr. H. James hit upon one of the happiest of ideas—namely, the
seizing of a lovely park belonging to a Prince Su, which runs parallel
to the British Legation, and is on the other side of the canal. It is so
big there would be plenty of room for as many of these poor people as we
shall be able to rescue, and being so near us, it will be quite possible
for us to defend it. Dr. Morrison saw that the idea was carried out, and
Dr. H. James went personally to Prince Su, and interpreted to him that
it would not only be kind, but wise, for him to present his palace and
park to his distressed fellow-citizens, who were being massacred by the
Imperial soldiers in different parts of Peking, and in this way to
furnish them with a refuge from the brutes who had killed thousands of
them, and who were desirous of killing the rest. Dr. James implied that
unless he voluntarily gave up his “fu” (meaning park), we would take it.
Prince Su was most suave, and said nothing would give him greater
pleasure. There was probably some truth in what he said. He was only too
glad to get as far away as possible from these Legation people,
notwithstanding he would have to give up his palace. The danger for his
life might be very great if he were suspected, even for a moment, of
sympathizing with the foreigners, as might easily have been maintained
by his enemies had he continued to live in this palace, which we told
him he might do, as it was only his big park we wanted for the
Christians. He vacated the same day, leaving all of his treasure and
half of his harem. Thanks are due to Dr. Morrison.
How queerly things happen! These poor wretches, who had been tortured
and hounded to death only two hours before by Imperial troops, were now
housed in the palace of a mighty Prince, and almost within the shadow of
the Empress-Dowager’s palace. For three days this splendid work of
rescuing has continued, but finally Captain Myers decided that, with all
the night-watching and hard, long hours of sentry work, our men could no
longer endure it. So it was discontinued, and I believe the other
Legations have stopped for the same reason. The English, Russians, and
our men usually went on these rescue parties together, and I never heard
of friction, though they were sometimes under an officer of one
nationality and the next day under another. The ten to twenty marines
who were on these parties counted at a very low estimate that they must
have killed 350 thieves, Boxers, and Imperial Chinese soldiers.
ENGLISH COMPOUND,
_June 21_.
Things are rapidly changing for the worse. On the afternoon of the 19th
a communication came from the Yamen addressed to all the Ministers,
saying that, as all, or most, of the European Powers had fired on the
Taku Forts, war was practically declared, and, such being the case, they
would be pleased for all the Legations to take their passports, and
allow the Chinese Imperial troops to escort them safely to the coast,
whence they could leave the country. This was a thunderbolt coming to
the Ministers, and yet so plausible and possible did the proposition
appear to Sir Claude Macdonald and Mr. Conger that they were almost
ready to acquiesce if the Chinese promised proper transportation.
The German Minister, Von Ketteler, was very undecided—so much so that he
determined to go by himself the next morning to the Tsung-li Yamen and
have a quiet talk with the members, and in this way arrive at a
conclusion as to whether there would be foul play in case we accepted
their escort. As he had some knowledge of the Chinese language, he was
able to probe a little deeper into a conversation than were his
colleagues, who were naturally forced to speak entirely through an
interpreter.
The majority of the Ministers—De Giers, Cologan, Knobel, Pichon, Salvago
Raggi, etc.—were wavering, first to accept the proposition and then not
to; but by five o’clock in the afternoon it was so generally believed
that the Ministers as a body would accept the Tsung-li Yamen’s ultimatum
that all foreigners should leave the next morning at ten, that the
executive members of the different Legation staffs had been out buying
or procuring in any way possible large numbers of Chinese carts for the
Legation personnel, and we women were packing the tiny amount of
hand-luggage we were to be allowed to take with us, wondering whether to
fill the small bag with a warm coat, to protect us on this indefinite
journey to the coast, or to take six fresh blouses. Our hearts were
wrung as to what to do, and while we were arranging and worrying about
these trivial details the great diplomatic question was at a white-heat.
The Ministers were moving about from one Legation to another, arguing,
talking—always talking. The strong men felt we must not leave Peking
until our own foreign soldiers arrived to escort us, but the weak men
felt in despair as to which course to vote for. They did not like the
idea of leaving either, but, oh dear, what a breach of diplomacy to
receive their passports and then to decline to go! The strong, who knew,
were so few, and the weak, who feared to disobey the Tsung-li Yamen,
were so many, that it looked very much as if we were all to start out to
our deaths the following morning.
During the afternoon two or three men made a visit to the Legations,
hoping to be able to rally the Ministers into promising to cast an
undiplomatic vote when the final conference should take place; and at
one time Dr. Morrison took the floor, he being the spokesman for the
vast crowd of intelligent individuals—engineers, bankers, trades-people,
and missionaries—who one and all were in favour of waiting until Seymour
and M^cCalla arrived. He looked the Ministers square in the eyes, and
said:
“If you men vote to leave Peking to-morrow, the death of every man,
woman, and child in this huge unprotected convoy will be on your heads,
and your names will go through history and be known for ever as the
wickedest, weakest, and most pusillanimous cowards who ever lived.”
[Illustration:
THE TSUNG-LI YAMEN
]
On the evening of the 19th Von Ketteler sent an official letter to the
Yamen, saying on the following morning, at ten o’clock, he should go to
the Foreign Office, as he wished to discuss with the Tsung-li Yamen the
trip to Tien-tsin, etc. A little before ten on the morning of the 20th
he started to keep this appointment. He was in his official chair, his
interpreter in one behind him, and both unarmed. Four of his Legation
guard started out with him, but, after proceeding a short distance, Von
Ketteler saw the congested condition of the streets and the great number
of excited soldiers everywhere, and, rather than run the possibility of
his men getting into a row, he sent them back to the Legation, and
proceeded on his way to the Yamen in just such a style as a high Chinese
mandarin would go through the streets, with only his two _maffus_ riding
on in front as outriders. These Chinese servants, being mounted, were
the first people to bring the news back to the German Legation of his
murder. Von Ketteler was passing a kind of guard-house where at all
times a fairly large number of Imperial Chinese soldiers was kept. A
number of them rushed out, surrounded his chair, and shot him many times
in the back of the head. His interpreter was shot at as he was escaping
with great difficulty, and a volley of shot was fired at him as he
started to run. He escaped, however, to the big Methodist mission, where
his wounds were dressed and he was cared for.
When the horrible news came to the German Legation, all the soldiers and
officers there made a sortie as near as possible over the route taken by
Von Ketteler; but it was not feasible for them to continue the search
for his body, as they could very easily have been cut off from the
Legation quarter by the Chinese troops, and have been placed in a
desperate position.
When the story of Von Ketteler’s murder had been confirmed, a shiver of
horror shook each and every foreigner then in Peking; and we realized,
perhaps for the first time, the horror of our position. Baroness von
Ketteler, half crazed, wandered wildly about the most exposed and
dangerous part of the German Legation. It was only by Lady Macdonald’s
telling her that probably her husband’s body was at the British Legation
that she was able to get her there, it being necessary, of course, for
her to be put somewhere safe from bullet-fire, where women could be with
her and do what little they could.
Those soldiers who killed Von Ketteler were Imperial Chinese troops, and
represent the Empress-Dowager, and for them to have the audacity to kill
a Minister shows us how much real power for the good there is in Peking
to-day.
In the early afternoon the Ministers in conference decided that everyone
must go to the British compound—that is to say, all women and children,
missionaries, etc. The idea of getting our passports was no more
discussed. Von Ketteler’s murder had opened our eyes to our real
position and the real attitude of the Imperial troops, so that the
question of being escorted by them to the coast was never again
seriously thought of for a moment, except to feel that Von Ketteler’s
death was the price we paid in order to learn of the positive treachery
of the Chinese officials, although one must not forget there were many
clever men in Peking who from the first argued in the strongest way
against our going to Tien-tsin with a Chinese escort, begging the
Ministers to wait until our own relief force, under Seymour, should
arrive, and then let our own soldiers escort us to Tien-tsin. There is
no question, however, that as a _body_ the Ministers were for accepting
the offer of the Chinese officials, and that it was only the tragedy of
the 20th that made them see the impossibility of such a course.
The women and children and non-fighting men having gone to the British
Legation, the men and marines in each Legation will stay and defend
their respective fortresses as long as possible, and then make the
English compound the one for a final stand. Legation Street, beginning
with the Italian Legation, is completely cleared of all Chinese, and
extends over the bridge up to our Legation, where we made big
barricades, as we have this part of the street to defend; then the
British Legation continues down from the bridge by the Imperial Wall up
to the canal to the Tartar Wall. Besides this place of defence (which is
the best position, and will be the final refuge for everyone), the
Legations are defending themselves and their flags as long as they can;
for, by keeping our lines as large as possible, when the end comes we
shall be able slowly to retreat more and more, which will give us time,
and by each day gained relief must be getting nearer.
As we have positive proof from the Chinese that the Admirals have taken
the Taku Forts, it must be that relief is very near, or they would never
have jeopardized our lives in Peking by this overt act of war, unless at
the same time they were in a position to save us in case the Chinese in
Peking would retaliate by attempting to massacre us.
The American missionaries of several denominations, who have been
defended in their big missions near the Ha Ta Men Gate by twenty of our
marines, have been brought to our Legation to-day bag and baggage, not
to mention babies. They consist of seventy-six adults and a large number
of children, and while here Mrs. Squiers arranged a luncheon for
everybody—men, women, and children; and, although she knows her
food-supplies may possibly run short for her own large family, she
opened her storeroom, containing staple groceries and many crates of
condensed milk and cream, and urged these women to take, individually or
collectively, literally as much as they could carry of the articles they
most needed to tide them over until the troops arrive. These women had
all had a taste of siege life, and already knew what it was to see their
children show the lack of proper food; and they consequently availed
themselves fully of Mrs. Squiers’s more than generous offer. It was a
happy “mothers’ congress” that denuded those storeroom shelves, and then
this missionary convoy was taken over to the British Legation, and Lady
Macdonald gave them the chapel for their lodging.
There are so many women in our United States Legation that the British
have assigned us the doctor’s bungalow. Dr. Poole is the compound
surgeon, and we are living in comparative comfort compared to the people
of other Legations. Politics seem to enter into the distribution of the
Legation houses that are assigned to the heads of each Legation, and
after a Minister is given one, he proceeds to arrange his people as
comfortably as he can. Our house has not many rooms, but they are large,
whereas the Russian Minister has been given the second secretary’s
house, which is in bad repair, and is anything but commodious. Sir R.
Hart, as Chief of Customs, has one of the inferior houses, which is
unfortunate, as his Customs officials are very numerous; but then, from
time immemorial, the British Minister has never loved the Customs
people’s great power in having control of the huge revenues of China.
[Illustration:
BARRICADE ACROSS THE CANAL TO THE FU
]
[Illustration:
_Copyright, M. S. Woodward_
SANDBAG BARRICADE IN AMERICAN LEGATION
]
It is now almost two weeks since the troops started from Tien-tsin.
Where are they? Seymour must be in command, and Sir Robert Hart suggests
that, _when_ he gets here, we call him Admiral See-no-more, or, if the
Queen wishes to increase his rank for his rapid relief of Peking, she
could with reason call him Lord Slow-come. The Russians themselves have
christened Colonel Wogack Colonel Go-back.
Thank heavens that this compound is spacious—big trees and comparatively
numerous houses. The Protestant missionaries are now all housed in the
Legation chapel, where they have turned the vestry room into a model
kitchen and the altar into a _table d’hôte_. A herd of sheep and a cow
have been corralled and installed in the stables, so we shall have meat,
in case we are besieged, for several weeks. But if we are not besieged
so long, the most sanguine say that the Chinese, who are a nation of
cowards, will get over their awe of the foreigner when they find how
easily they have made him leave his Legations and collect in the
strongest one. When the moment arrives when they entirely lose that awe,
how easy it will be for Tung Fu-hsiang alone (even he controls about
10,000 troops around Peking) to make a rush on us, although perhaps the
only strength of his force lies in its numbers! To get in, to fire and
massacre all the hated foreigners at one catch, is not at all
impossible.
Legation Street being held by us Americans, we were allowed to have our
trunks brought over here and placed in the five-room house which was
turned over to Mr. Conger for himself and official family. Dr. Poole, to
whom this bungalow belonged, ate at a mess, so that, not having any need
for his stove in the kitchen of his house, it was immaterial to him
whether it was broken or not, but what a difference it made to us! Mr.
Conger’s large family, increased by several guests from Chicago, had
their meals cooked on this delightful stove at certain hours. Our
family—that of the First Secretary of the Legation—is also very large,
and accordingly we find it necessary to have meals at other hours; then,
again, the Second Secretary, Mr. Bainbridge, arranges his _chow_ at
times during the day when it may be possible to cook something; and
still again, Dr. Coltman, with his wife and six children, who have a
room in the bungalow, have a definite time for their mess.
As we have come in so recently, our meals are mostly cold, in the spirit
of catch as catch can. I find a great deal of coffee and tinned beef is
devoured during the day with great gusto by our officers, soldiers, and
civilians. Yesterday we brought all the tinned things over here from our
Legation, but, as we are extremely uncertain as to the length of our
siege, we realize it is just as well not to have too large appetites.
Mr. Squiers has been assigned two rooms of this house placed at the
disposal of the United States Legation. They are situated at the back,
opening directly on the filthy, dirty Chinese servants’ quarters. Mrs.
Squiers, my maid, and I have the large room, which is practically the
living-room for the family and mess of the First Secretary of the
Legation. Our trunks, with two silver chests, and all the many dozens of
tins of food that we brought from our Legation, are banked all round, up
against the walls. The big double mattress on which we sleep is rolled
up in the daytime, and we use it for seats as well as the trunks. We
have no furniture, as Dr. Poole moved his bed to the hospital and found
other places for the rest that he had, so the room is completely empty.
Perhaps it is just as well, however, because we have great difficulty in
finding a place big enough to spread our mattress out when night comes
as our stores and trunks almost fill the room.
The three children have their respective cribs, which we were wise
enough to bring over from our Legation. They are placed in the other
room which looks out on the little avenue that runs through the
compound. The air is much purer there than in our room, where we breathe
the servants’ air and gas which rises from a broken sewer. The French
and German governesses are placed in the ends of small halls.
When we were collecting a few comforts—mattresses, cribs for the
children, etc.—in our Legation to bring over to this compound, we
carelessly brought, too, a light-blue satin eiderdown quilt, which we
took from one of the bedrooms, and now we are glad to have it, for it
serves as a most admirable portable bed. When his services are not
needed as orderly to Captain Strouts, Fargo Squiers gets some hours of
good rest on it. He takes it to any particular spot where he thinks his
services may be needed during the night, and, with a childlike ability
to sleep anywhere, and an old veteran’s ability to wake up promptly, he
finds this scrap of luxury from the old life doing excellent duty as a
campaign adjunct. The sky-blue shade, however, is fast becoming a rich
London smoke. Mr. Squiers, like other men who assist at the
night-attacks, and must be ready to work anywhere at any time, sleeps in
his clothes and his boots, usually in the American Legation, taking his
rest in periods of forty Winks at such time as he is not needed.
As things are not systematically arranged yet—in fact, we hope the
troops will be here before we need to get things in such a condition—we
do a good deal of cooking on our chafing-dish. When we turn the room
into a nursery for the children (for we cannot keep them always in their
own room, nor can we allow them to be much in the compound, as half the
time it is thick with exploding bullets), it is then a sight to behold.
There are a good many children here. Their one game seems to be
“Boxers,” and they copy in miniature what we grown-ups are playing in
earnest. The younger ones are forced into being the attacking Chinese,
and I am afraid when the big ones repulse them, they occasionally get
very real bumps on their heads. They have small sandbags and barricades,
and their Chinese warwhoop of _Sha, sha!_ (Kill, kill!) is a creditable
imitation of the real thing. It is all very clever, and they are all
very full of life, and I help them to play, for it’s a good thing that
they don’t realize what all this may mean, and we hope that relief will
come before they lose their spirit and before they know.
One can see, on walking about, missionary children, of whom there are
quantities, elbowing Ministers Plenipotentiary, and the latter going
about without collars. The Belgian Minister, for instance, is a good
example of the condition of to-day. He, with his First Secretary of
Legation, M. Merghelynckem, Chevalier de Melotte, and his English valet,
have been most gallantly defending their Legation for a long time
without help of any kind. They killed many Boxers who attacked them, but
they were so few that they found it impossible, after eight days, to
hold out any longer, and were forced to leave. A party of Austrian
soldiers went to their rescue and escorted them into the Legation lines,
as the Belgian is quite distant from this centre. They had the pleasure
of seeing their compound fired fifteen minutes after they left, and knew
it was being looted as well. They then became “refugee colleagues,” and
stopped first with the Austrians, then came here. They have for
wardrobes the clothes they have on their backs, only M. Joostens has one
extra blue cotton shirt and one piqué cravat.
Our Protestant missionaries are working steadily and continually
wherever it is most essential, and besides doing everywhere the work of
men, they have taken under their wing the care and feeding of that vast
number of rescued Chinese converts who are now in Prince Su’s park. Most
of the Roman Catholic brothers, in contrast, not only do not raise a
finger to work, but in no way occupy themselves usefully.
Firing seems to continue at all times, but it is mostly over our heads.
Yesterday Boxers tried to loot and fire the Dutch Legation, which is
next to ours, and Captain Myers turned our machine-gun on the crowd for
a minute and killed six Boxers, so the attempt to loot was not
successful, but the burning of the compound continues. The Methodist
Mission, so lately vacated, was looted and burned last night. So much
happens in every twenty-four hours I can hardly keep account of it all,
and as a background to the hourly horrors that develop is the continuous
snipe, snipe, sniping, mostly by our own men, who are on roofs of
buildings shooting at the constantly approaching incendiaries.
All food-supplies which can be procured in any way from anywhere by
anyone have now to be turned in to the committee in charge of food, and
everything is deposited with them on the erstwhile tennis-court of the
British Legation, which is their headquarters. In fact, everything of a
useful nature is stored there, whence it will later be distributed where
most needed. The two foreign shops in Peking are Imbeck’s and Kieruff’s,
and as they are too far up Legation Street to be defended in any way,
they have been abandoned by their owners with their contents. The
committee on food-supplies, although greatly desiring the stores on the
shelves of these shops, would not attempt to get them, as anyone making
the attempt would become a perfect target for Boxer snipers as soon as
he left the protection of our last barricade on Legation Street.
Imagine our surprise when, late in the afternoon, a Chinese cart, driven
by Fargo Squiers, a boy of fifteen years old, came thundering into the
British compound with the upper part of the cart riddled with
bullet-holes. He was heading for the two rooms in Dr. Poole’s house
which had been allotted to his family, and his freight consisted of
dozens of tins of the above-mentioned supplies from Imbeck’s
death-surrounded shop, which he had procured at the greatest risk to his
own life. The committee were about to order him to unload his desirable
cargo with them, to be used for the good of the public, but upon hearing
that the boy had ridden into the very jaws of death to procure these
supplies, and had dared what no man in the compound had dared to do,
they told him he could have the disposition of them, for by his rash
valour he had well earned the lot.
It seems he procured a Chinese cart and forced two coolies to go with
him. On their way to Imbeck’s one was killed by a bullet in his head,
and though the other survived to help him load the cart, after arriving
in the courtyard of the place, he had difficult work, as coolie number
two tried to run away, and twice the boy had to point the muzzle of his
rifle at him, indicating what he would do if he made any further
attempts. They were fairly free from shots while actually loading the
cart. On the return trip every yard of the way they were peppered by
bullets, and the second coolie was wounded, but not killed. This boy saw
what he thought he ought to do, and he did it; but what a terrible price
might have been paid for these stores! Apropos of stores, these last
certainly are welcome. Our mess is large, and so many tins were given to
the missionaries and other needy people before we came to the British
compound that we would have felt the lack of staple groceries
tremendously had not this large windfall arrived.