Part 3
The officer in charge had them brought up Legation Street, which has lately been barricaded, and, except foreigners, no one is allowed to walk or pass. Two big barricades have been made at each end, one beyond the Dutch Legation, the other below the Italian Legation. And such a lot of poor, wretched people I hope never to see again. Half starved, covered with soot and ashes from the fires, women carrying on their breasts horribly sick and diseased babies, and in one case a woman held a dead baby. One man of about fifty years old carried on his shoulders his old mother, who must have been every day of ninety years. She looked so withered and wrinkled, one had to think of the burning of Troy and Æneas. A great many of these people were terribly wounded—great spear-thrusts that made jagged wounds, scalp-cuts and gashes on the throat where the victim had been left for dead.
Dr. Lippitt, who came up with the marines, and the English and Russian surgeons set to work, and tried to patch these poor people together again, and they toiled, the three of them, steadily for many hours. I have never imagined that such stoicism as these wretched creatures exhibited could exist. They never uttered a cry or moved even when the surgeons were operating on them.
Then the question arose as to what should be done with them. They could 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.”
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.
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.