the fire of his battery, was buried this afternoon in a small open space
in the American Legation. This funeral, however, was not as pitiful to
me as the siege funerals we have been having all summer. Perhaps because
there was some help and satisfaction to be got out of the military pomp
and honours which were given him as he was laid away. All the guard
captains were there. Captain Reilly’s brother-officers and the officials
in general assisted. The rough coffin was generously shrouded in an
enormous flag, and after a short military service was let down into the
wide, deep grave made for him.
Mr. Conger, as being the chief representative of things American in
Peking, stepped down into the grave, and began to drag the flag from the
casket, saying at the same time, “There are so few American flags in
Peking, _this_ one can’t be spared.” In a moment General Chaffee, the
personification of justice for the dead and wrath for the living,
shouted: “Don’t touch that flag. If it’s the last American flag in China
it shall be buried with Reilly.” This man, whether addressing a Minister
Plenipotentiary or an army division, is instantly obeyed, and so his
dead subordinate was tenderly cared for by him at the end, and his body
was buried wrapped in the flag for which he had given his life.
All of us, now we have no longer any right to continue living in the
British Legation, feel that we should leave as soon as possible. The
diplomatic people have houses to go to, and those who have no houses to
go to are usually taken in by their colleagues, but the great majority
are houseless and homeless.
It is like hunting a needle in a haystack to find a habitable house
anywhere near the Legations, because, for blocks and blocks, almost
everything is burnt. To find any decent Chinese houses one has to go too
far from our lines to be really safe, as even now there are plenty of
snipers still in Peking. Some wretched, dirty, and filthy temples have
partially escaped burning, owing to the fact that almost up to the time
that our troops arrived they were used by the Chinese as strongholds for
themselves and Boxers. Into these holes people must go for lack of
anything better.
Yesterday we spent the entire day moving from our tiny British Legation
quarters to our own house in the American Legation compound, and such a
difficulty we had in getting coolies to carry our many trunks and boxes!
The Chinese servants, almost without exception, were off looting or
trying to find places for their families. They would not work, and it
was not until 6.30 in the afternoon that we could hand over our two
rooms to Dr. Poole. Mrs. Squiers is busy nursing little Bard; he has
gone down with typhoid fever within the last few days, and we are all
dreadfully worried about him. He is now at our Legation, in an isolated
building. It is hard to nurse typhoid without fresh milk and ice, but we
hope to get them before long. Mrs. Squiers is also nursing Captain Myers
(who has developed a case of typhoid) and Dr. Lippitt, thus making two
cases of typhoid in our little compound.
I had a chat to-day with Sir Claude Macdonald and M. de Giers, the
Russian Minister, and both volunteered two highly complimentary
criticisms of things American during the siege. One was that the
services of Herbert Squiers had been simply invaluable during the most
trying part of the summer; they both said—and surely, unless it was the
case, these two people with such widely different points of view would
never have both felt it—that he held both people and things together
when people did not even dare whisper their fears to each other; that
there might have been a possible division of forces during the siege
owing to exaggerated racial feelings. The other criticism was that our
marines lead in their intelligent work as soldiers. The accuracy of
their shooting is extraordinary, and their ability to step forward, one
after the other, on the death or retirement of an officer or
non-commissioned officer and take his place is remarkable. They show the
greatest aptitude to command, and are in no way disconcerted by the
sudden increase of responsibility. In many instances which could be
cited this was proved.
The British have never been known unnecessarily to sing the praises of
other nationalities, and I was very happy to have this judge of things
military tell me exactly what I felt and had seen from the beginning of
the siege.
_August 18._
Yesterday General Chaffee told me he proposed to send the first American
convoy down the river to Tien-tsin on Monday, the 20th. A boat-load of
convalescents and several boat-loads of missionaries will make up the
convoy. Fargo Squiers, my maid, and I, will have our own little boat,
and will be sent with this contingent for protection to Tien-tsin, where
the Consul will be instructed to look out for us until we take passage
for Japan to join my family.
Things in Peking are in a terrible state of chaos. Generals and
Ministers know as little as anyone in the respect that they never decide
on anything. Of course, they are awaiting instructions from home.
Yesterday I was _en route_ from the British Legation to the American,
when a big Sikh addressed me most respectfully, whacking his chest,
which was bulging in tremendous curves: “Mem-sahib give me two dollars,
I give mem-sahib nice things.” There had just been an order issued to
all British troops that the loot they procured each day must be turned
in to some appointed official, so I fancied that this man must have
wanted to get rid of something which he might find difficult to explain
if found on his person. I, of course, had no money with me—it was the
one thing we had had no use for two months—but I returned to our
Legation and procured two dollars, for my curiosity was aroused, and
returning hastily to where I had left my man standing; and then, in the
most evident perturbation, he unloaded what he thought was only a proper
equivalent for the two dollars which he had asked of me—an exquisite
gold-mounted cloisonné clock and two huge, struggling hens!
He was so anxious to be gone that before I knew it I had the clock in
one hand and those wriggling old chickens in the other. They pecked at
my hand, and I almost dropped them; but when one has been on short
rations for two months one can stand without complaint a few
difficulties in procuring food. The clock was a joy to look at, and the
chickens were so big and so old; they made wonderful soup for the dear
little kiddies, who, thank Heaven! are all still alive, but very much
run down from the siege.
This morning Baron von Rahden came for breakfast, our conversation
being, as usual, carried on in French. He told me he had procured for me
a good sable coat—and when a Russian speaks of good sables they are
good, for that nationality are expert judges of furs. I wanted to accept
the coat in the spirit it was offered, as a testimonial of a charming
friendship, formed under extraordinary circumstances, but owing to the
intrinsic value of the garment I had to decline it. I don’t think he
understood very well my refusing it, and I had within an hour the
pleasure of seeing him present it to another woman, who accepted it
without a qualm, and without giving him, I thought, very many thanks. My
soul was torn with conflicting emotions all day, and in the afternoon a
Belgian, of whom I had seen a good deal during the siege, brought me a
tortoise-shell bracelet, set with handsome pearls, which he had taken
from the arm of a Chinese officer whom he had killed. I surprised myself
by promptly accepting it. My nerves could not have stood it, and I took
it rather than have a repetition of the sequel to the sable-coat
episode.
When the rich Chinese inhabitants left Peking in such a hurry they in
many cases took their treasure, their favourite wives and themselves out
of the capital with the greatest expedition possible, while the young
girls and women of their households thus left in countless instances
promptly committed suicide, usually by hanging themselves, or drowning
themselves in the wells of their courtyards. The men who are throughout
Peking now looting, constantly run into these silent testimonials,
showing how these people all preferred self-inflicted death to what they
knew they could expect when the civilized and Christian soldiers of the
West should be turned loose.
Yesterday a very animated generals’ conference was held, the great
question being whether there should be a unanimous effort to stop all
looting and sacking, or whether it should be continued. The Japanese,
French, and Russians were absolutely _pro_; English and Americans,
_con_, the latter having the strictest orders from President McKinley
against any looting. The English, although giving their vote for no
looting, added they should continue to place “in safe-keeping all
valuable things” found in the district given them to police. This, of
course, gives them practically the right to loot, although whatever is
brought in has to be placed in one place, where they have an auction
later, and the officially prescribed amount _pro rata_ is given to the
officers and men, so that they are really doing just what the other
nations are doing, only in a somewhat more legalized way. They say that
these Indian troops, the Sikhs and the Rajputs, are something horrible
when they get started, and occasionally the British officer who is
supposed to always be on these parties sent out to procure “the valuable
things for safe-keeping” has to shoot a man to keep them in discipline.
The rumours come in that now the whole of Peking is being looted, and
worse, and each Legation, closed up in its little compound, feels like a
little question-mark of respectability, surrounded by a whole page of
wicked, leering horrors.
[Illustration:
THE RESULT OF THE SIEGE: IN THE AMERICAN MINISTER’S HOUSE
]
[Illustration:
_Copyright, M. S. Woodward_
THE RESULT OF THE SIEGE: FRENCH LEGATION RUINS
]
Our gates are all closed tight, and occasionally we hear thundering down
Legation Street as whole troops of half-starved horses, ponies, and
donkeys (animals which have been left by their owners in their stables,
and which have managed by some means to free themselves, either by
looters untying them, or perhaps fire freeing them), dash past at top
speed all together in a fury of liberty regained. And dangerous it is
for anyone to be on the road when one of these wild troops race down the
street, for he will certainly be trampled to death. After a time these
mad collections of animals become tame and quiet from hunger and
exhaustion, and are willing enough to be led into almost any courtyard.
Everything is unusual in this wonderful Peking. This morning I walked
with Colonel Churchill and Captain Mallory on the Tartar Wall and down
it to the Ha Ta Men Gate, where we went down the Ramp and walked all
over the tremendously exposed German and French lines with their
barricades and defences. In the German compound the havoc wrought is
unimaginable. Whole sides of the houses have been battered down, in some
instances one or two walls only left standing; and as for the French
compound, every house, every building, and every wall has been levelled
to old Mother Earth again, and nothing but the little house of the
concierge at the gate, which flies the French flag, is left standing.
On seeing this one can understand why the French at the conference not
only wanted Peking to be looted and sacked, but to be burnt as well. As
the whole place can be inspected now, Mr. Gamewell tells me that four
big mines, almost completed, have been found, and, had not the allies
arrived when they did, that the following night would have seen some
terrific explosions in the British Legation, the Hanlin Library, and on
the Tartar Wall even. The mortality of the siege would thus have been
doubled by twenty-four hours’ further delay by our troops.
Baron von Ketteler’s body was accidentally discovered on the 16th by the
Russian troops who were passing near the Tsung-li Yamen, very near the
spot where he had been murdered. The body had been thrown into an old
wooden box and left. The polite communication which had been sent to the
Baroness von Ketteler during the semi-armistice days of the siege that
her husband’s body was lying in state at the Tsung-li Yamen was thus
proved to be an utter fabrication on their part. To-day his formal
obsequies took place in the German Legation, the doyen of the Corps, the
Spanish Minister, reading a short address, which was as well put as it
was as hard for Baroness von Ketteler to hear. I did not go to the
ceremony, however, for I felt as if I had attended more than enough to
last me the rest of a long life.
Although the allies arrived on the afternoon of the 14th, it was not
until the afternoon of the 16th that the Japanese troops went to the
relief of the Pei-t’ang, where Archbishop Favier had held his own so
long. They had had tremendous losses by attack and mines which exploded
in their midst—300 Chinese converts killed, 75 orphan children, and 60
foreigners, including 2 French officers who had been sent with the 20
French marines to help them at the beginning of the siege.
This huge fortified cathedral was the only other mission in or about
Peking which was strong enough to hold out. At four o’clock they were
relieved, and at seven o’clock the French Minister arrived to make
inquiries about his compatriots. All the commanders who have inspected
the Pei-t’ang say its defence was a wonderful one.
At every meal now Mrs. Squiers’s guests are most numerous, charming, and
interesting. The servants seem to be all back, and although the days are
filled with incredible stories of what the different nationalities are
“doing” in Peking, our evenings are always delightful, as they are made
up of the companionship of the most delightful men in Peking, who, when
they arrive to dine, throw off the disagreeable features of these war
times, and devote themselves with happiness to this opportunity,
probably their first for many weeks, of enjoying the ordinary cheerful
amenities of life; and while these nice parties smack of the camp—for
everyone is in uniform—it only makes things more interesting, for they
help to cheer up the tired siege people. It is the same everywhere in
the different Legations: each nationality is surrounded by its military,
with a sprinkling of more or less unattached secretaries and Ministers
Plenipotentiary, who are temporarily without Legations to go to or
troops to attend to.
Sir Robert Hart is very busy with his mountain-high accumulated Customs
work to be attended to, but he manages often to drop in to tiffin or
dinner.
Colonel Mills, General Chaffee’s Chief of Staff, an old friend of our
host’s, comes frequently to this hospitable house, as does Colonel
Waller, a delightful person, with his young officers, Lieutenant David
Porter and Lieutenant Harding. Colonel Mallory and Colonel Churchill,
the British Military Attaché to Tokyo, who is an old friend of mine, and
many other charming people, would make this list a long one should I
attempt to make it complete.
[Illustration:
MRS. HOOKER, MISS ARMSTRONG, LADY MACDONALD’S LITTLE GIRLS, FARGO
SQUIERS, AND COLONEL ARTHUR CHURCHILL
]
Colonel Churchill is returning, as I am, as soon as he can to Tokyo. He
intends to go down the river with Miss Armstrong and Sir Claude’s little
girls with the first convoy sent down by the British, which will be a
day after General Chaffee sends down his.
Fargo Squiers, my maid, and I, will then meet him and Miss Armstrong and
the children in Tien-tsin, and we will make our journey to Japan by the
first way that presents itself. He thinks that Admiral Bruce, who is in
command of the British fleet at Taku, will put a despatch-boat at our
disposal, and that we will be sent immediately over to Yokohama.
In coming up to Peking Colonel Churchill brought me a very kind
invitation from Admiral and Mrs. Bruce—I had known them for some time—to
come to Mrs. Bruce at Wei Hai Wei, the British concession near Chefoo,
in case I was ill or needed a rest before starting for Tokyo. So, with
the letters to Colonel Moale, in command of our troops in Tien-tsin, to
do everything possible for us, Mr. Squiers, Mrs. Squiers, and I, feel
that Fargo and I will have an interesting and reasonably comfortable
trip over to Japan, where I know my sister is counting the days until I
return to her.
General Chaffee has delayed sending the first convoy down until the
21st, which gives me a little more time before starting. It has made me
feel that really, after having been shot upon all summer from the
Imperial walls, I should like a peep inside before I leave Peking.
The city has been portioned off to the different generals, and the
English and Americans have a district where there is very little to
loot. To-day a French officer of high rank, wishing to get treasure out
of a palace that was in our lines, came to Mr. Conger and asked him if
he would allow him to change the boundary a trifle. The Minister naïvely
agreed to the Frenchman’s purely disinterested request, and the
consequence is there are a lot of indignant American military men
wandering about trying to understand why this change in the map should
have been made without consulting them.
_August 19._
I talked over with Mrs. Squiers my great wish to see something of the
wonderful Purple City before leaving, and while she was too busy nursing
little Bard to go with me, she saw no reason why, with ample protection,
and escorted by an officer, I should not ride through this mysterious
and beautiful park.
I had expected General Chaffee would give me an order to enter by the
Ch’ien Men Gate and its continuing three gates, and pass practically
through our own lines, upon his hearing that I wished to do so. He was
usually so amiable when I asked him for anything, that this time, much
to my surprise, he became very angry, and, pounding his fist on the
table, he assured me that he would not allow me to even ride through the
Imperial City, giving as his refusal the only reason that “there were
sights of war there which no American girl should see,” and pounding his
fist a second time to emphasize the fact. All of which was ridiculous,
as the sights of war referred to were simply the heaps of corpses which
surrounded the different gates of the Imperial City by which the allies
had entered, and, as a consequence of the defeat of the Chinese, the
dead were still there. He was right, inasmuch as these are not pretty
things to see; but as I had been in the midst of war for two months, and
had seen all these things many times, I did not feel that it was just in
him to deny me the privilege now of being able to get a bird’s-eye view
of this wonderful park, which he might have done by allowing a special
permit to go round it on horseback before leaving. But one can’t fuss
with people who deny you things for what they think is for your own
good, especially when the person in question happens to be General
Chaffee.
After this sad refusal, the first person I met was Baron von Rahden,
who, on hearing my tale of woe, was delighted to hear that it was one
which was so easy to remedy. As General Chaffee had the power to write a
permit to go into the Forbidden City, so had the Russian
Commander-in-Chief. He flew off, and in a few minutes returned, bearing
an order from the headquarters of the Russian troops giving him power to
escort me through the Imperial City, with a company of Cossacks as a
military guard, so that we could come to no possible harm from snipers
or marauding parties.
I was all excitement to be off. I felt like a naughty child, and was
afraid to stop a moment, fearing something might still stop me. But we
could not start, as there was no horse or pony in the Legation, and the
Cossacks had only their necessary number. Von Rahden was a resourceful
person, and told me that while I was putting on a riding-habit he would
have a horse got ready for me. He sent his men off with the word that
some sort of an animal for me to ride must be here in fifteen minutes,
and when I was ready to go I found the Cossacks all lined up and Von
Rahden holding two of the sorriest, thinnest-looking horses I had ever
seen. His men had stopped a stampeded troop of animals out in Legation
Street, and these two were the best. The horse he selected was half mad
with fear, but I finally managed to mount him, and off we started,
lickety split, Von Rahden and myself leading, and the half-company of
Cossacks thundering after us. This dashing down deserted streets and
rushing up slight grades made me realize that one was no longer a
prisoner, at any rate.
We rode for a long time through absolutely deserted streets, at all
moments on the _qui vive_ for shots from closed doors, or for a possible
ambush at each turning in the road. Our horses shied at corpses in our
path, and we were listening for unheard noises from apparently empty
houses, many of which had tiny little foreign flags flying from some
window or a painted foreign flag roughly executed over the door, the
owners hoping these Western insignia might protect their property from
looters.
Before entering the Forbidden City we passed through three series of
walls, at the entrance to which were piled innumerable dead Chinese,
silent proof that many lives were given in the vain attempt to protect
the Imperial City; but after we were once inside, these horrors were
forgotten in the grandiose landscape gardening, which almost overwhelmed
us by its magnificent simplicity. We crossed the wonderful white marble
bridges which spanned the artificial waterways, and the glorious
lotus-flowers were all in bloom on the banks and partially in the water.
They are such gorgeous, big flowers; they are like the Chinese
architecture—wonderful in big, sweeping lines. We rode on through this
semi-cultured landscape, where every detail was so carefully attended to
that the ensemble was a complete joy to the senses, and after the eight
weeks we had been barricaded in our Legation district this park seemed
like heaven.
[Illustration:
COAL HILL
]
We climbed the Coal Hill, and got the only view I ever had of the Purple
City. We were at such a height that we could look right down and get a
good glimpse of the plan of these palaces, besides obtaining a gorgeous
general View of the whole Imperial City. On descending the hill, I must
say I was disappointed that the palaces in this Holy of Holies were not
more imposing. They were low, long buildings constructed of the gorgeous
Imperial yellow tiles. The extraordinarily rich colouring of these
buildings made one forget momentarily the plainly low architectural
lines. Unfortunately, we had no permission to enter these
closely-guarded, mysterious precincts. We hated to leave this spot of
beautiful trees, long avenues and vistas, and, above all, the pure air,
to return to our half-burnt, wholly ill-smelling Legation district.
At nine o’clock all the Anglo-Saxons sang a _Te Deum_ on the
tennis-court. Mr. Norris conducted the service, and Dr. Smith, the
author of “Chinese Characteristics,” made a most stirring address. We
all surely sang it with hearts full of a thankfulness we had rarely ever
before felt.
_August 20._
To-day I took a walk all over the German lines with Mr. von Bergen,
Second Secretary of the Legation, and, in fact, all over our old siege
lines, and said a cheerful good-bye to it all. To-night Mrs. Squiers has
a farewell dinner, and to-morrow, at 6.30 a.m., we start with ourselves
and our baggage in United States Army schooners _en route_ to Tungchow,
where we take primitive houseboats to sail down the Pei-ho to Tien-tsin.
A detachment from the 9th United States Infantry is to accompany us, and
everything is to be very military in this escort for the first convoy.
How absurd to compare my coming to Peking and my leaving it! I came up
on Sir Robert Hart’s private car in a few hours, and will go down to the
coast in an antiquated Chinese boat, which will take as many days as the
train took hours. And so, floating down the river, I will have much time
to think quietly about this wonderful siege, to forget the disagreeable
and the bad, and to remember the great and the good.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
INDEX
American Legation. See Legations
Armstrong, Miss, 17, 23
Austrian Legation. See Legations
Belgian Legation. See Legations
Below, Von, Secretary to German Legation, 14;
effect of siege on, 100
Bergen, Von, Second Secretary to German Legation, 203
Boxers, the, rising of, 7, 16, 23;
captures of, 29, 35, 76, 152;
outrages by, 38, 57