“The very hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear ye not therefore.”
THE traditions of the city of Tseh-cheo Fu were, as regards its attitude towards foreigners, the reverse of reassuring. The Roman Catholics had, it is true, succeeded in settling within its walls, but only by dint of a characteristic policy of pressure and threat. They were not wanted; and on occasion they were made to know it. Protestant missionaries, acting on the inspired principle that the weapons of a spiritual warfare may never be carnal, had visited the city with the Gospel message, but as yet had received no encouragement to stay. Indeed, more than once they had been denied the right even of sojourn, and had been driven from their inn and expelled the city. The atmosphere was charged with hatred of the foreigner; and the prospect, therefore, of entering it, even under the most favorable circumstances, would call for a special act of faith and prayer. How much more in circumstances where the Imperial Government had declared against us, and where our condemnation was written in the manner of our advent! Whatever else the trollies carried, they carried at least a load of prayer.
As we neared the city, a mounted courier dashed past at a tearing gallop and disappeared within the gate. What his errand was I know not, but it looked as if it had to do with us. Anyhow, it was one of those incidents which, trivial perhaps in themselves, yet go to make up the sum total of experience, whether of joy or sorrow, and instinctively it connected itself in my mind with a presentiment of coming ill. Its special use was that it led me to watch and pray the more carefully against surprise in the temptation before us.
The sun was nearing the western horizon when we arrived at the great gate. The ponderous arch that gloomed over us seemed like another portal of the Valley of the Shadow of Death, and its shade struck chill to the soul. No one can realize what it meant to face the thought of entering a hostile Chinese city. Villages and towns were trial enough, but the mere sight of the brown battlemented walls towering high before one, in the knowledge of what lay behind them, had for me a dread of its own which never grew less. And never was the Lord’s “Fear not” more comfortable than at such times, as it certainly was never more needed.
We had made but a few paces within the gate when our progress was arrested by a party of yamen officials at the head of a waiting crowd, amongst whom we recognized the evil face of the foremost of our Hantien accusers. In the most violent and offensive way they seized the animals’ heads, and forcing them round ordered us to leave the city. For several moments our fate hung in the balance, as they abusively refused to hear of our admittance; and we had before us the alternative of being either taken back to Kao-p’ing or turned adrift to tramp the roads. Meantime, the officer in charge had produced the papers which he was deputed to carry to the sub-prefect; and the presentment of these changed the situation. The officials quickly ran them over, conferred; for a while together, and then gave the order to take us to the yamen.
If ever we needed to realize the encompassing of the invisible host of God, it was in the streets of Tseh-cheo Fu. The trollies were followed by an ever increasing and tumultuous mob of men only, the dimensions of which, by the time we reached the yamen gates, were alarming enough. As we drove into the enclosure they thronged in after us; and when a moment later we were dismounted and the carts driven off, we found ourselves, as at Kao-p’ing, alone and unprotected in their midst. Even the semblance of help, in the shape of runners to keep back the crowd, was dispensed with here, and we were practically left a prey in their hands. There was nothing for it but to stand where we were, amid the scorn and buffetings of the wild mob about us, and quietly wait to see what would be done with us.
We had not to wait long. In evident fear of a riot within the precincts of the yamen the Hsien hastily ordered the underlings to clear us off the place. With the Kao-p’ing experience before me I believed that they had come to take us to quarters in the inner courtyard; but when they began to hustle us towards the outer gate the terrible truth revealed itself that it was intended to abandon us to the mercy of the people on the street. The crying injustice of it, let alone the cruel prospect before us, was more than I could stand; and, refusing to go, I demanded the right of a personal interview with the Mandarin. My request was answered with derisive laughter, and my refusal to move by forcible ejection. Amid hoots and yells we were driven to the street and told to await there his Excellency’s pleasure. It was virtually an attempt over again to get rid of us in the irresponsible way of mob violence.
The long interval that followed was, I need scarcely say, a distressing one. In the fear of being swept out on to the open street, and hopelessly away, we kept hard by the yamen gate, where we were pressed up into a corner face to face with the thronging, struggling, yelling crowds. We had all our work cut out to soothe the children and to shield them from the crush; for it was a “tight corner” in a very literal sense.
As I think of it now, I marvel at the way God kept the mob back; for many times as the great human wave surged up, it threatened to crush the breath out of us. At length the deputies appeared with the Mandarin’s instructions. We were to be lodged for the night in an inn on the street to which they would conduct us, and be sent off the next morning to Huai-Wing Fu. Spend the night at an outside inn! What was this but simply giving us straight into the hands of the mob for death? And again I remonstrated, pleading with the officials to take us into the yamen and allow me to see the Kuan. Their answer was that if we had anything to say we must put it in writing; for it was the only way in which we might hope to approach him. This was tantamount to saying that his Excellency would have nothing to do with us; for they knew perfectly well that we had no means of getting a letter written, and that, even if we had, it would never be delivered. Whereupon we were driven on to the street, and ordered to follow them, with the great crowd at our heels.
The inn to which we were taken was in the principal thoroughfare, where we should naturally be exposed to peculiar danger. Behind the open food shop, through a narrow passage, was a tiny courtyard where a small room was allotted us, into which, having settled us, the officials withdrew, leaving a single rabscallion to represent the yamen.
For some hours yet we were to be “made a spectacle unto men.” Until long after dark the narrow passage discharged its confused stream in never ceasing flow into the tiny square, whose only other outlet was our room. In order to spare my dear wife and the children as far as possible, Miss Gates and I sought to stay them at the threshold by giving them their full opportunity of seeing and questioning us outside. For a while it answered; then the pressure forced us in; every inch of the ground was occupied, the k’ang itself was besieged, and there we sat immured between walls more cruel than of stone. I have a lively recollection of the suffering of those hours; for apart from the vicious attitude of those who were watching us, the heat and stench were overpowering. The cravings of hunger and thirst were intense; and head and limbs and every bone ached again with the hardships we had already endured.
Once more in our extremity we hid in God. As the men stood about us and over us on the k’ang, threatening every moment to drive us out on to the street, our hearts were kept in peace, so that we feared not. The restraint that held them in check was from Him alone; for no human power was for us in that hour. Nay, “the powers that be” were avowedly against us, and the people knew it. Every opportunity for the gratification of their anti-foreign hatred was now theirs. And yet they touched not a hair of our heads.
Not until the hour for closing the inn did the crowds withdraw. Many hundreds, running probably into thousands, had swarmed about us since our arrival; and a reaction after hours of bullying cross-examination and imminent attack was hardly to be wondered at. The quiet in which we were left at last seemed almost unintelligible after the continuous uproar of the hustling mob. Could it be possible that all that was left of them was the half-naked underling, where he lay across the courtyard yonder, placidly fusing the opium pill over the lamp flame!
When all was quiet and the shop door barred, I made my way to the chang-kuei-tih and ordered food. The several attempts I had made before had been in vain; and even now the request was treated with casual contempt. He refused to cook for us, and we had to make shift with the dregs of the copper in which the evening millet had been boiled. Thankful at least for so much, we praised our God and committed ourselves into His Hand for the hours of darkness My determination was to keep the night watch. But alas for resolutions, even under circumstances of such grave peril! I remember an evil-looking band of men being let into the room, and the close examination they made of us as we lay. After that I remembered nothing. I confess with shame, for the sad selfishness of it, that I slept solidly until daybreak. When I awoke my wife said to me, “Oh, what an awful night it has been!” “How do you mean, darling?” I said. “Haven’t you slept? What is it that has troubled you?” “Thank God you slept through it! Miss Gates and I would not wake you unless we saw absolute need for doing so; but it seemed as if hell were being let loose against us. For hours they have been yelling in the streets and battering at the doors to have us brought out and put to death. Is it possible you have heard nothing of the pandemonium?” With amazement and confusion of face I had to confess that it had been possible; for my sleep had been the sleep of absolute oblivion. I was grieved beyond measure to think that I could have taken my rest while they were watching and praying and suffering alone. But the act was involuntary; and it may be God saw that it was a necessity, for indeed I knew not how to go on. The only consolation I have in the memory of it now is that it served to bring out into beautiful evidence the characteristic unselfishness and devotion of those with me. Here, at any rate, was one occasion—and I fear it was not a wholly isolated one—when the weaker vessel shamed the stronger, and proved its own superiority in the power of endurance and the strength of self-denying love.
It was not until afterward that we learned how gravely critical the situation had been, and how marvelous, past understanding, the deliverance God wrought for us. At midnight the whole city was in riot. With horrible cries and yells they rushed to the Roman Catholic quarters first and fired the premises, the priests barely escaping with their lives.
Then they came on to our inn, and for what seemed an interminable time, amid the clash of gongs howled for us to be brought out to them. How they came to disperse without having their wish gratified we could never learn. I only know that when I awoke it was as quiet as when I lay down. And together we gave God the glory for another signal interposition for our salvation. The fact is all the more remarkable when it is considered that not two days later our sister, Miss Rice, of the Lu-ch’eng party, was brutally done to death not far from the walls of this very city.
It was full early, perhaps about seven o’clock, when a petty official from the yamen entered with the underling and some half-dozen soldiers and ordered us out.
We were to be sent on to Huai-k’ing Fu, and to start immediately, to prevent further rioting. I inquired what sort of conveyance had been provided for us.
“The Lao-ie has been pleased to give you three donkeys”; and the tone of loud contempt in which the reply was flung back implied that we were to credit his Excellency with extraordinary magnanimity in making provision at all for such carrion as we.
My dismay may be imagined when I saw that the saddles provided for a 30-mile ride were the bare “kia-tsï,” or wooden frames with which pack animals are saddled for the carriage of goods! It was preposterms; and I, said with considerable warmth, “You ought to be ashamed of yourselves for imagining that two delicate women and infants like these could endure such a mode of travel. We don’t budge from this inn till you have brought us two mule litters.” I need not describe the lively demonstration that followed. The calm resolve and the strength to hold to it was doubtless Divinely given; but I am bound to say that I was as amazed, as I was thankful, to find that, instead of falling on us there and then, as they threatened to do, they took two of the donkeys back and returned in half an hour with a single mule litter (or an apology for one) for the women and children. It consisted of nothing but the bare poles, with wide meshed ropework lashed to them, and for a seat a fragment of an old straw mat, dirty and frayed, to cover the meshes. P’eng (for privacy and protection from the sun) there was none. Its occupants were to be carried as so much cargo.
I saw that it was not expedient to make any further demur; and accepting the inevitable with as good a grace as we might, even to the extent of a “thank you!” for the exchange, we prepared to go. It was pitiful to see the crushed, constrained position of the four who were for the litter. My wife and Miss Gates faced each other, with their backs against the transverse poles, and between them, in a space which could ill accommodate their legs, the two children were somehow jammed in. Then they were hoisted to the mules’ backs. I got astride the saddle-rack provided for my torture, the escort surrounded us, and we were hurried off. An immense concourse had gathered at our heels as we passed along the main thoroughfare to the south gate. The momently expectation of an outbreak drew the eyes away to God, and we were strengthened to endure as “seeing Him Who is invisible.” After the night’s riot it was a marvel that we got out at all; still more so, that it should be accomplished without molestation. A general impression, however, seems to have prevailed that we were being taken to the “ing-p’an,” or military camp, for execution; and that sufficed them.
Another burning day was before us. Even now, as we passed out through the suburb we were only too sensible of the heat; and the prospect of a repetition of the past three days’ experience was full of dread. In the mercy of God we had now a sufficiency from which to meet the urgent need, The one difficulty was that, as foreigners and doomed prisoners withal, we were not allowed to buy for ourselves. So there was nothing for it but to part with the bulk of our small horde to the underling for the purchase of the requisite hats and fans. The rascal returned in course of time with five tiny rush fans of the commonest make, and the ready lie that “no hats were to be found—all sold out!” He chuckled as he slung the cash bag over his shoulder, the heavier by several hundreds of our cash; for what was the weight to the windfall? The lie that weighs the pocket down lies light in any clime.
And How we were nearing the dreaded “ing-p’an.” The news traveled on that we were coming, and the military element was soon in evidence. Uniforms mingled largely with the crowd; and as we skirted the mud wall enclosure scores of soldiers were seen hurrying to the gate. Meantime the escorts’ inflammatory talk and gestures as they parleyed with them seemed to indicate that we were in very deed arrived at the execution ground. Again and again we caught the sound of a rhythm which was to be dinned into our ears all that day, like the burden of a refrain, to this effect:
See the rain does not come
The sky is as brass;
Foreign blood must be spilled,
Or the season will pass.
They were terrible moments; for an appeal to the soldiery at such a time would be considered certain death. But we passed on covered by the Hand of God, and were hurt by nothing more than shouted curse and scorn. It was evident, then, that no formal orders had been issued to the Commandant for our execution; and at length the crowds dwindled away, the roar of the city streets grew faint, and we were pursuing our way amid the comparative quiet of country roads.
Comparative. For when traveling by day we could never count upon being wholly free from the anxiety of a Chinese crowd, even in secluded spots. Often and often I have wondered where in the world the men sprang from. They seemed to rise from the dust as if by magic, where hut a moment or two before one was alone. Now, however, we were taking the high road; so that, with the busy border traffic of two provinces, it was scarcely to be wondered at. And so it came to pass that all the long morning through our ears were regaled with the same refrain, as the escort answered the queries of the many passersby: “Where are you from?” “The Fu” (that is, Tseh-cheo). “Who have you got there” “Foreign devils.” “Where are you taking them?” “To death” and then the terrible refrain again:
The wrath of the gods
For vengeance doth call;
Foreign blood must be spilled
Ere the rain can fall.
Soon after passing the “ing-p’an” the escort was joined by a mounted trooper armed with sword and pistols, who took over the command. His stern silence and brutal manner boded ill. At any rate, it was all in keeping with the dominant note of the dirge-like refrain.
As the day advanced and the power of the sun increased, we suffered greatly. The endeavor to screen our heads as far as might be with the tiny rush fans was in vain. They were, of course, wholly inadequate; and then, too, they were needed in the fainting heat to put a little air in circulation, and to keep off the flies that swarmed about us. I have a lively recollection of that pitiful journey. Of the sad, sad picture of the ladies in the litter with the children in between, jammed into the cordage with no power to alleviate the constraint of their position. Of my precious wife’s face marked deep with the sorrows of the way we had already come, and now drawn with the pains of dysentery, which had just taken hold of her. Of the dear little ones sobbing uncontrollably with the smart of raw blisters, their arms an open sore from shoulder to elbow under the burning blaze. Even the underling was so far moved that he loaned his own broad-brimmed straw hat to my wife, and allowed me without remonstrance to pluck leafy twigs from trees by the way with which to cover the children’s blistering legs.
As the morning wore on towards noon, and the cravings of hunger and thirst asserted themselves, we longed for the midday halt, and in all innocence asked when we were to ta-chien. “The answer made one’s blood run cold.” “Ai-is! ‘Ta-chien’ indeed! There will be no need for such as you to ‘ta-chien’”—a significant way of reminding us that we should be dead ere the day was out.
Thus in sorrowful silence we journeyed on oyez the rugged mountain road. At length we were halted in the narrow side street of a small village, before a crazy looking hovel, and the mules taken out. A poor miserable looking woman, the occupant of the hovel, was told to look after us; and, thankful for any shelter from the awful blaze, we followed her inside. Her pitiable poverty revealed itself, not only in the condition of the house, but more than all in the pinched and sorrowful face. The circumstance of suffering common to us all seemed to draw her to us, and later on, when an opportunity presented itself of talking quietly with the ladies out of earshot of the guards, she expressed a very touching sympathy with us in the knowledge of our impending execution, and then poured out the heartrending tale of her distress and that of her neighbors under the rigors of the long drought. It was a God-given opportunity for the Gospel message; and the dear woman’s heart seemed ripe to receive it. All the hunger and thirst were forgotten in the deep joy of ministering the bread of life and the water of life to that needy soul, and the sorrows of death itself were swallowed up in the sweet consolation of pointing a weary and heavy laden one to the Saviour of Whom she had never yet heard. I remember still the radiance of the sisters’ faces, as they returned to me at the hovel and made me partaker of their joy.
Meantime many were coming and going; and to every inquiry one and the same answer was given by the guards, “We are taking the devils to execution.” On resuming the journey they maintained as before a morose silence, and if anything a sterner and more forbidding manner. The muleteer in charge of the litter was hard and cruel to a degree in his treatment of the women and children; and any appeal to him to mitigate their sufferings was met with a storm of cursing and abuse that brought us well within the zone of death. For myself I had been walking almost continuously since we left the Fu; for the pack-saddle so galled me that I found it impossible to ride it for more than a few minutes at a time, and at last was compelled to abandon it altogether. At length there came a time when the trooper dismounted to ease his limbs, and, worn with the long toil over the burning, rocky road, the heat of which sorely drew my shoeless feet, faint under the scorching sun, and spent with hunger and thirst, I looked longingly at the well-padded, comfortable saddle beside me, and was constrained to beg him to let me occupy it until he was ready to remount. The request was treated with contemptuous silence; but the look he gave me was its own warning that if I dared to repeat it he would not give me a second chance. I have often wondered since that we came out from under the hands of such an escort alive; especially in view of the fact that not a few of our martyred brethren and sisters of Shansi fell under precisely similar circumstances by the sword of their official guard.