Chapter V: Part 5

In the afternoon an official communication came from the Yamen saying in the most polite and abject Chinese that they would like a personal interview with the Ministers, to be held in the German Legation, as it was near their lines. This letter came late in the afternoon of yesterday, and the corps was to sleep all night on it, and decide this morning what to reply. In the compound feeling ran very high; everyone is against it. People felt that to receive these lying tricksters, who are offering peace and compliment with one hand, and with the other writing orders to their army to exterminate us, would be most undignified.

Early this morning the Ministers decided to bid them come at eleven o’clock to-day, the 13th. So they wrote to that effect, and the answer came back saying they regretted, but that other affairs and engagements of importance kept them busy to-day, so they would not be able to come, but hoped to give themselves that pleasure later. They also said that the terrible firing we kept up prevented them sending us the market supplies we desired. On the face of the awful attack of last night, continuing as it did from 8 o’clock until 6.30 this morning, the Yamen may have realized the absurdity of amicable chats, or perhaps they were afraid we would seize them, a measure seriously talked of by some of the officers. By seizing them all we could then let one depart with the cheering news that if the attacks continued the rest of the Yamen would be shot, but these clever old diplomats are not to be caught by any such old Chinese tricks.

_August 14._

Such an attack as we have just had: incessant throughout last night, the entire night, by its continuousness and fierceness did much damage everywhere, but we answered back their volleys, and were for the first time during the siege spendthrifts with our ammunition.

_August 15._

About midnight it appeared as though the Chinese were making a final effort to frighten and demoralize us by a terrific fire from all sides, and about one o’clock the pom, pom, pom, of machine-guns became apparent. To whom did they belong? Mr. Pethick had told Mr. Squiers that Li Hung Chang had bought fifty quick-firing guns just before the siege. In whose hands were they now? Did the Chinese still have them, or had they fallen into the hands of our relief?[1]

Footnote 1:

We found out later that the Russians had captured these guns, and were
using them against the Chinese on the south-eastern corner of the
Wall.

When these guns started their hammering there was a perceptible pause in the attack for four or five minutes, when the Chinese fire recommenced with redoubled effort, if such were possible, making a veritable ring of flame on all sides of our defence.

Through the racket that was around us all night we could faintly hear the unmistakable sound of the foreign guns of our troops. The dull boom of distant artillery—artillery coming to our rescue! We no longer asked each other, “When will the troops arrive?” We simply stood still, listening to this wonderful music, and goose-flesh ran up and down us. Early this morning the noise of battle gradually increased, and from the Tartar Wall we can see the advancing lines with their artillery,[2] which is answered by the Chinese on the Wall. The allies seem to be approaching Peking in every direction, for the Chinese are answering with cannon from every city gate.

Footnote 2:

Afterwards ascertained to be the Japanese trying to drive the Chinese
from the Eastern Gate in order to enter the city.

We have all become like deaf people, and to make people hear we have to seize them by the shoulders and bellow into their ears. We don’t quite know whether the Chinese will occupy themselves entirely with the advancing troops, or whether our fortified lines will be swept away by them in a last attempt on us before the allies thunder in to our rescue. Opinions vary; every barricade is doubly manned, as they have been, in fact, for the last two nights.

The Russians, English, and Americans finally succeeded in their attack on the south-eastern Wall, and entered the Chinese city almost simultaneously, marching along the southern Wall of the Imperial City towards the Water Gate, the Ch’ien Men Gate, and the Ha Ta Men Gate. The commanders received a cipher despatch from Sir Claude Macdonald advising them to enter the Imperial City by the Water Gate, as we held that portion of the Wall, and would be able to assist them in entering at that place.

At about half-past three I was debating with my maid whether I should or should not go over to the American Legation and take the cheerful bath which I had been indulging in each day lately. Owing to the half-armistice existing, the early afternoon hours were fairly safe ones in which to move about the lines, and I was about to start with bathing paraphernalia and the little maid, when my inner consciousness was struck by something unusual happening out in the compound. I tingled all over, for my instinct had told me the troops had come.

Running to the old tennis-court, the only open space, I found everybody flying in the same direction. There were about two hundred Sikhs. They had entered Peking by the Water Gate, or what one should really call a drain, which allows the now dried-up water in the canal egress under the Tartar Wall. It is by this that our messengers have gone out and come in, and it is the route Mr. Squiers urged in his letter on both M^cCalla and Chaffee as being the only way by which troops could penetrate right into the heart of our lines without having to take any big gate of the Tartar city. These Sikhs came in this way, and they were the first to warm our hearts with the knowledge that this horrible siege is over.

It was queer to see these great, fine-looking Indians, in khaki uniforms and huge picturesque red turbans, strutting around the compound, and as they entered right into our midst they all whooped a good English whoop. A little blond Englishwoman was so overcome at the relief really being here that she seized the first one she could get to and threw her arms around him and embraced him. The Sikh was dumbfounded at a _mem-sahib_ apparently so far forgetting all caste. It seemed odd that the word “relief” should have been personified in these Eastern and heathen-looking Sikhs, but it was all the more in keeping with this extraordinary siege in Peking that they should be the first on the scene to rescue us.

At this wonderful moment the Chevalier de Melotte, Mrs. Squiers, and myself, without a word spoken, flew with common consent to the point in our lines down Legation Street where we knew we could see the entering columns. Cannons were booming in all directions, caused by the Powers trying to enter by the different gates, shells exploding and sniping everywhere. We took our stand at the bridge crossing the canal, from where we saw large quantities of soldiers, sometimes even cavalry, come through the Water Gate. We had scarcely caught from this rather exposed point a bird’s-eye view of it all, when a squad of Sikhs passed us with an officer of high rank, who turned out to be General Gaselee, riding in the midst of them. He jumped off his horse on seeing us, and showing on every inch of him the wear and tear of an eighty-mile midsummer relief march, he took our hands, and with tears in his eyes said, “Thank God, men, here are two women alive,” and he most reverently kissed Mrs. Squiers on the forehead.

_Photo, Elliott & Fry_

GENERAL SIR ALFRED GASELEE
]

It was so good to see him and meet him in this way. As soon as the despatch had arrived saying that General Gaselee was to be in command of the British forces, a smart-looking photograph of him that someone had cut from a magazine had been pinned on the Bell Tower, and it was so smart-looking, and his appearance so correct, that one of necessity lost interest in his personality; and now to see him thus—the military martinet all lost in this big-hearted, kindly man, who was almost crying because we were alive! A short time before meeting us, on his line of march, he saw poor Père Dosio’s head stuck on the end of a pole, where the Chinese had placed it, and General Gaselee feared that this head might be but the beginning of a series of Europeans similarly treated. We had considered the Italian priest so quiet and docile that he was not restrained at all, and yesterday he quietly wandered out into the Chinese lines, and undoubtedly he was killed before they knew his mind was gone, although at this stage the Chinese, I expect, were all too ferocious to have spared him even had they known of his dementia.

Coming to the “front” this way had to be paid for in a mild way, and a ricochetting bullet grazed my ankle, and one tipped the top of my ear. Chevalier de Melotte, our escort, had his cap shot off; but the battle lust had got into our blood, and it seemed that all this storm of bullets and dropping shells was but a new and exciting kind of hailstorm, and that to keep moving from one point to another was the one necessary thing to do.

The red-turbaned Sikhs and General Gaselee had come and gone, and now came long lines of yellow, khaki-uniformed Americans of the 9th Infantry, belonging to us, and General Chaffee, well set-up marines under Colonel Waller—they came on and on, stumbling through the hot August sunlight, line after line, without end, and we were nonplussed when they told us they were but a small detachment of the United States troops; and the tremendous storming of the Ch’ien Men Gate that was deafening us was being done by the Americans, who were having no easy time of it, as the Chinese were firing right down on them from their protected height.

Now this Water Gate entrance is no longer a drain, as it used to be, but is rapidly shooting forth a veritable military kaleidoscope. The yellow lines have changed into a stream of plodding, heavily-laden, tiny Japanese soldiers; then the picturesque uniforms of the French Zouaves, from Saigon, with their loose, baggy, cumbersome red trousers, come into view. We stood transfixed. It seemed to us as if the whole world had come to our rescue. Now the passing lines have changed again, and this time Cossacks, with their black, high leather boots and soiled white tunics, tramp past us, but we could not wait for more. We returned to the British compound, where we found that the galling fire from the Ch’ien Men Gate, which had done such damage amongst our attacking troops, had been stopped by a sortie of our marines down the Tartar Wall to the gate, where they silenced the Chinese and the Chinese guns, and helped our incoming soldiers to mount theirs in the erstwhile Chinese position, from which splendid vantage they fired directly into the Imperial City, and by this fire opened two more of the big gates of the Forbidden City.

This charge down the Tartar Wall to clear it of Chinese soldiers and Chinese guns by our marines was a brilliant bit of action. The guard, one and all, were anxious to help in some way our relief, which was so hard pressed at the Ch’ien Men Gate, and they welcomed with shouts of joy the orders from Sir Claude which enabled them to have a hand in this last great fight. They were joined by twenty Russians, the siege friends and almost the dear “bunkies” of our men, one Russian officer, and Mr. Squiers, of our diplomatic service (the Chief of Staff to Sir Claude during the siege), who led the charge.

The other nationalities have done about the same sort of thing on entering Peking; they have each taken some one gate, and are stationed now at different parts of the city, and, by a hasty conference of the generals and Ministers, they have each been given areas to be responsible for and to police. To police—which means that in these districts they will turn their men out to loot.

The Americans, after taking the Ch’ien Men Gate and the continuing inner gate directly up to the Purple City, left them manned, and then retired to the south-east portion of the Chinese city, which is contiguous to this district. In all Peking, but principally in our lines, confusion is rampant. This modern “Tower of Babel” will, I suppose, eventually settle itself or spread itself, as the case may require. One of the difficulties of late arriving columns trying to find their headquarters and marching round and round is the fact that their headquarters are also on the move, and until they bump into each other by accident they are at a loss to know what to do. To-day, at least, no one can direct anyone else.

Out of this wonderful military kaleidoscope, how glad I was to see old friends and acquaintances emerge! First to come to me was Colonel Churchill, the British Military Attaché to Japan, who got permission in Tokyo to come up with the Japanese troops to Peking. On finding me alive and well, he returned to the Japanese headquarters in time to send word with the first official telegram of General Fukushima to the War Office in Tokyo (announcing that the Japanese troops had arrived in Peking), to my brother-in-law, Lieutenant Key, who is the American Naval Attaché to Japan, that I was safe and well. How wonderful to think that, as the troops were marching up to Peking, the engineers were steadily placing the telegraph-wires, so that six hours after we were relieved a message went flying down to the coast with the tidings! To know that my dear sister in Japan and my family at home have been relieved from the uncertainty of my condition, already causes my heartstrings to loosen up a bit, and the tension is not quite so painful. A year before, I lunched with General and Mrs. Chaffee in Havana, and it was very nice to see him again here in this wicked old Peking.

He told me that no hours in his life had ever been so full of dreadful anxiety as the hours before the dawn of this morning at Tungchou, just before the starting of the columns for Peking. They could hear the continuous Chinese fire, and also the weak but steady spitting of our little Colt automatic gun, which he knew the marine guard had with them, and he said that all the sounds he heard spelled but one sentence, “Shall we be too late? Shall we be too late?”

It seems that the greater part of the allied armies had spent the night at Tungchou, and it had been absolutely settled by the commanders that the following night and morning hours were to be spent there, which would give time for scouts to go out and make reasonable reconnaissances; and that by early noon the main body of the allies should march on to Peking, each having a different city gate to take simultaneously. This plan was very nice and correct and military, but the Japanese and Russians, who had been eyeing each other distrustfully, could not stand it any longer, and throwing to the winds the pledge that they had given that day in conference, they both started their columns off double-quick before dawn for the capital. This breaking of their promise to the allies at the last moment, so to speak, rather mixed things up, but perhaps, after all, it was a relief to the others, because it then meant they were relieved, too, from any long concerted action, and they all could begin to march straight for Peking, which they did.

The night of the 14th was the last night that our siege mess dined together on our little eight-sided Chinese table, which was generously stocked with the remaining tins which we had been hoarding for such a long time. Somebody has said, “There is a sadness about the last time of everything,” and truly it was so with us. I felt exactly as children feel when they have been having a wild game of make-believe all day, when the grown-ups break in and say, “Come, children, there has been enough of this.” And so it was with us: these terrible times are over, and there is nothing for us to do but remain passive, and try and get some sort of equilibrium into our lives again; and as we dined together last night there was a strong feeling, although we did not speak of it, that nobody but ourselves, who went through this incredible eight weeks of horror, were ever going to know really what the siege in Peking has been, and that we might all talk until doomsday, but the world will never understand. Perhaps it is too busy to try. So, as the kiddies say after a game, “Well, we know who’s who, and who has done what, and that is as near as we ever will get to teaching the grown-ups, who know it all, about it.”

_August 16._

Captain Reilly, who was killed this morning while gallantly directing 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.

THE RESULT OF THE SIEGE: IN THE AMERICAN MINISTER’S HOUSE
]

_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.

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.

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

Brent, Mrs., 17

British Legation. See Legations

Bruce, Admiral, 197

Bruce, Mount, 2;
ascent of, 4

Carles, Mr., British Consul at Tien-tsin, 148, 149

Cartier, M. de, 142

Cassini, Countess Marguerite, 5

Chaffee, General: arrival at Tien-tsin, 158;
the relief of Peking, 177, 181, 199;
a funeral incident, 184;
the convoy to Tien-tsin, 187, 197

Chamot, Swiss proprietor of the Peking Hotel, provides food for the
besieged, 114

Cheshire, Mr., American Legation, waiting for the relief troops, 15,
21;
his bravery, 77

Ch’ien Men Gate, burning of, 25;
firing of cannon from, 69;
arrival of the relief force, 179

China, Empress of, and Prince Ching, 132;
and Li Hung Chang, 163, 164

Ching, Prince, head of the Tsung-li Yamen, 69, 92;
correspondence with the besieged, 132, 137, 138

Christians, Chinese, outrages on, 35, 38;
located at the Fu, 75, 132;
their want of food, 161

Churchill, Colonel, British Military Attaché to Japan, 180, 196

Cologan, Señor, Spanish Minister at Peking, 43;
his illness, 120

Coltman, Dr. and Mrs., American physician at Peking, 20, 52, 79

Conger, Mr. and Mrs., American Minister at Peking, 52, 62, 120;
message from the Yamen, 136;
a funeral incident, 184;
his naïveness, 198

Dana Collection, the, 14

Dosio, Père, the Superior of Nan-t’ang, his loss of mind, 131;
Chinese outrage on, 176

Dutch Legation. See Legations

Favier, Archbishop, the Superior of Pei-t’ang, 37, 194

Feng-tai railway-station, 4;
burning of, 8

Fisher, a marine, death of, 125

Food-supply during the siege, 58, 73, 85, 106, 108, 109;
an amusing incident, 146

French Legation. See Legations

Fu, the, Chinese Christians located at, 72, 132, 161

Fukushima, General, commander of the Japanese relief forces, 167

Gamewell, Rev., a missionary, a mainstay to the besieged, 112, 193

Gaselee, General, commander of British relief forces, 149, 167, 176

German Legation. See Legations

Giers, M. de, Russian Minister at Peking, 43, 120;
message from the Yamen, 136;
and the Americans, 186

Giers, Madame de, her wonderful help in nursing, 143

Hanlin Library, the, 107, 116

Hart, Sir Robert, Inspector-General of Customs, 13, 18, 50;
death of Oliphant, 105;
letters from the Yamen, 139, 151

Ha Ta Men Gate, defence of, 22, 33, 92

Hsu Ching Cheng, Director of Imperial University, 156

“International” cannon, the, 116

Italian Legation. See Legations

James, Dr. H., 75;
murder of, 76

Japanese Legation. See Legations

Joostens, M., Belgian Minister, 141, 142

Jung Lu, communications with the besieged, 132, 134, 159

Kempff, Admiral, 14, 16, 17

Ketteler, Baron von, German Minister at Peking:
Boxer incident, 24, 25;
murder of, 45;
discovery of body, 194

Kettles, Mr., the Belgian Consul, 141

Knobel, M., Dutch Minister at Peking, 43, 120;
the chicken episode, 146, 147

Kroupensky, Mr., Russian Secretary, 23

Legations:
Boxer outrages, 7 _et seq._;
arrival of the marines, 15;
weakness of the American, 18, 31;
waiting for the relief party, 21, 27;
attempts to burn, 25 _et seq._;
alarming state of, 31;
rescue of Chinese Christians, 35 _et seq._;
Chinese offer an escort to the coast, 42, 159;
murder of Baron von Ketteler, 45, 194;
strength of the British Legation, 48, 72;
American women and children transferred to the British, 48, 50;
American missionaries brought in, 49;
life in, 50 _et seq._, 119 _et seq._;
evacuation and burning of the Belgian, 56;
attempt on the Dutch, 57;
supply of food, 58 _et seq._, 86, 108 _et seq._, 160;
in great danger, 61 _et seq._;
evacuation of Austrian and fright of the French, 63;
general panic, 64;
fighting the fire, 65 _et seq._;
the crowded hospital, 74, 90, 91, 102, 103, 105, 116, 142, 143;
a sortie, 75;
murder of Dr. James, 76;
armistice, 78;
renewed attacks on, 80 _et seq._;
attack on German, 92 _et seq._;
an unsuccessful sortie, 95;
racial friendships and animosities, 95, 96, 121, 122, 135;
Japanese valour, 97;
boldness of the Chinese, 98;
successful charge down the wall, 99, 100;
funerals, 102 _et seq._;
discovery and successful use of an old cannon, 115, 116;
plague of flies, 123, 124;
Captain Strouts mortally wounded, 125;
a bad day, 125 _et seq._,
wave of despondency, 129 _et seq._;
a missionary becomes insane, 131;
communications with the Yamen, 132-134, 136, 145, 151, 159, 163, 169;
Chinese send in food, 138;
news of the relief force, 140;
a chicken episode, 146;
messenger sent to Tien-tsin, 149;
description of the barricades, 151 _et seq._;
letters from Tien-tsin, 157;
food running short, 160;
more severe attacks, 165, 168, 171;
good news, 167;
arrival of the relief force, 171 _et seq._;
the question of loot, 191;
the state of the German Legation, 193;
discovery of mines, 193

Li Hung Chang, 163;
and the Empress of China, 164, 165;
purchase of guns, 171

Linqua Su, temple of, description of, 2;
defence of, 9, 10

Lippitt, Dr., 34;
wounded, 91, 142;
typhoid fever, 186

M^cCalla, Captain, in command of the Japanese marines, 15;
returns to Tien-tsin, 16;
and the relief party, 21, 34

Macdonald, Sir Claude, British Minister at Peking, elected
Commander-in-Chief, 120, 121;
and Von Rostand, 122;
Communications from the Yamen, 132, 133;
and the relief force, 173, 179, 186

Macdonald, Lady, and her children, 17;
and Baroness von Ketteler, 46;
lodges the American missionaries in the chapel 50;
food-supply, 85, 160

McKinley, President of the United States, forbids looting, 191

Magi-poo, rioting at, 14

Mallory, Colonel, sends news to the besieged, 158

Marines, the, arrival at Peking, 15;
on the sick-list, 34;
sorties, 35, 41, 99;
death of Captain Strouts, 126;
the relieving force, 179, 187

Martin, Dr. A. W. P., Director of Imperial University in Peking, 23;
and the fire at the Legations, 68

Melotte, Chevalier de, his gallant defence, 56;
arrival of the relief force, 175, 177

Merghelynckem, M., First Secretary of Belgian Legation, 56;
saves the life of the French commanding officer, 117

Methodist Mission, burning of, 57

Mills, Colonel, General Chaffee’s Chief of Staff, 196

Missions:
arming of, 34, 35;
removal into the Legations, 49, 51;
work of Protestant and Roman Catholic missionaries, 57;
burning of Methodist, 57

Morrison, Dr., _Times’_ correspondent:
his kindness, 9;
stoned by rioters, 14;
his advice to the Legation Ministers, 44;
his hard work and cheerfulness, 69;
and the Chinese Christians at the Fu, 75;
wounded, 126

Myers, Captain, commander of the American marines in Peking, 17, 18,
21;
makes successful sorties, 25, 99, 100;
his hardships, 33;
saves the Dutch Legation, 57;
wounded, 103, 186

Nan-t’ang, burning of the, 131

Narahara, death of, 142

Neih, Chinese General, defeat and suicide of, 141

Norregarde, a Swedish missionary, becomes insane, 131

Norris, Rev., English chaplain at Peking:
the funeral of Oliphant, 105;
works hard on the fortifications, 118;
holds thanksgiving service, 203

Oliphant, funeral of, 105

Pei-t’ang, the Roman Catholic fortress cathedral, 36, 37;
relief of, 194

Peking—see also Legations:
Boxer rising, 7 _et seq._;
burning of Feng-tai, 8;
positions of the Legations, 12;
telegraph broken, 21;
assassination of the Japanese Chancellor, 22;
burning of the missions, etc., 24 _et seq._;
fires in, 25 _et seq._;
description of, 26;
treachery of the Imperial Chinese troops, 45, 47;
burning of the Belgian Legation, 56;
burning of the Hanlin Library, 71;
entry of the relief force, 173 _et seq._;
looting, 192

Pethick, William, Li Hung Chang’s private secretary, 11;
his opinion of the state of China, 19, 20;
his advice on the Yamen communication, 132;
and the antique China episode, 165

Pichon, M., the French Minister in Peking, 43, 78, 87, 120;
the Legion of Honour, 139

Poole, Dr., surgeon to the British Legation, 50, 52, 53, 59;
the Legation fire, 68

Porcelain, antique, 14

Rahden, Baron von, commander of Russian Legation force, 25, 30, 96;
and his undrilled soldiers, 110;
the defences of the Legations, 152;
the forbidden city, 200

Reilly, Captain, death of, 184

Roman Catholics in Peking, 36, 114

Rostand, Von, Austrian Chargé d’Affaires, 117;
and Sir Claude Macdonald, 121

Russian Legation. See Legations

Salvago Raggi, Marquis, 43, 86, 120

Seymour, Admiral, 44, 51

Shiba, Colonel, Japanese commander at Peking:
a sortie, 75;
description of, 95, 148

Shimonoseki, Treaty of, 163

Squiers, Herbert, Secretary of the American Legation, 6;
_en route_ for Peking, 10;
his collection of antique porcelains, 14;
his hospitality, 15, 49, 73;
beginning of the siege, 22;
sends communication to Tien-tsin, 28, 29, 34;
removal to the British Legation, 53;
renovates an old cannon, 115;
becomes Sir Claude Macdonald’s chief of staff, 134;
communications with the Yamen, 136;
the defences of the Legations, 152;
leads a sortie, 179;
Sir Claude Macdonald’s opinion of, 186

Squiers, Fargo, his brave adventure, 58;
and the Legation fire, 68

Strouts, Captain, commander of the British marines in Peking, 18;
a sortie, 25;
Legation fire, 30;
mortally wounded, 125

Su, Prince, 98

Taku Forts, taking of, 49

Tien-tsin, first relief force sent to
Peking from, 15;
message received by besieged from, 140;
the capture of, 141, 158

Tsung-li Yamen, the Chinese Foreign Office, send a guard to protect the
temple of Linqua Su, 6;
Swedish missionary’s interview with, 131;
communicates with the Legations, 136 _et seq._, 145, 159, 166, 169;
send in food, 139

Tung Fu-hsiang, 51, 92

“Tungchou,” the Roman Catholic church, burning of, 24

Velde, Dr., German surgeon at Peking, the excellence of his work, 73,
109, 113, 143

Waller, Colonel, 177, 196

Warren, Mr., mortally wounded, 124

Water Gate, entry of Sikhs through the, 174

THE END

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BILLING AND SONS, LTD., PRINTERS, GUILDFORD

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