“He brought them out of darkness and the shadow of death. O that men would praise the Lord for His goodness and for His wonderful works.”
FRIDAY, July 13: the seventeenth day of the sixth Chinese moon: the eighth day of our second flight. A week today since we left Lu-an—a week that will probably stand alone in the history of my life for concentration of inward suffering and for manifestation of Divine power.
The road we were now taking lay through magnificent scenery, over the great stone stairway of the lofty Tai-hang range that divides the provinces of Shan-si and Ho-nan. The immemorial traffic of the great trade route has worn the rocky steep into a series of steps, so regularly gradated that one wonders whether skilled labor has not been employed upon them. The pass is a nearly continuous ascent of ragged and precipitous rocks, until it reaches an altitude of at least 2,000 feet, when it drops to the plains of Ho-nan. Its wild grandeur is most impressive; and the distant views that burst upon the eye at some turn of the road, or reveal themselves where the crags part, are striking and beautiful to a degree. At least, so they appeared to my unaccustomed eyes, in the light of a newfound liberty.
Not that we were free. Though rejoicing truly in a gracious deliverance, we were captives still—and made to feel it. Neither escort nor driver had abated one jot of their rooted enmity towards us. Rather they seemed to vie with one another in the expression of the hard-hearted contempt that sprang naturally out of it.
Nor were the conditions of travel less rigorous than on former occasions. The sun beat down upon our unprotected heads as fiercely as at any previous time. In the dear children’s case, it is true, there was the slight alleviation of a “sheo-kin” apiece (or small square handkerchief of coarse native cloth) which my wife had contrived somehow to get for them; these twice folded just sufficed to cover the crown of the head. To render them as sun-proof as possible I kept them well wetted, dipping them in the wayside pools that abounded, since the great rain, in the holes of the rocky road. As the morning advanced and the sun’s power increased, the water in these rock holes became hot well-nigh to steaming, so that at last the wet “sheo-kin” had no longer any cooling virtue to carry to the poor little burning head.
The furnace heat of that morning I shall never forget. If fire was above us, it is no exaggeration to say that fire seemed also to be beneath and on every side of us. The arid rocks and the shimmering air were charged with it. As the donkey provided for my use was again saddled with nothing easier than the torturing “kia-tsï,” I was driven to walk. And here how mercifully had God in His foreseeing love supplied my need! When my clothing had been taken at Sha-he-k’eo, my Chinese socks had been left to me; and the stout calico sole, strongly sewn after the native fashion, was now my salvation. I could not ride for the sores produced thereby; and the heat of the rock was such (let alone the painfulness of its jagged formation) that, but for my socks, walking would have become an impossibility. Even as it was, I could only ease the foot by plunging it, sock and all, into the hot water holes by the way, and by occasionally shifting the single shoe (recovered to me after we had been stripped) from one foot to the other.
The sufferings of the ladies and children under these climatic conditions were increased, not merely by the cramping squeeze of their close quarters, but by the nature of the ground traversed, and the careless construction of the litter frame. The ups and downs of the steep ascents and descents produced a motion very different to that of the level road; and the discomfort in their particular circumstances, huddled as they were like so much baggage in the rope work, can in some degree be imagined even by those who have never used a northern “chiao-woa-rï.” As a result of the short, awkward jerks, the sisters were severely galled by the jar and fret of the loosely lashed woodwork at their back; but even worse was the distress of finding that, in my dear wife’s case, the mat under her was slowly giving way, and she sinking through the ropework! The parting of the meshes soon lowered her to the point where she had no choice but to hang on to the poles for dear life, in which desperate position she was thrown in the descents against the rump of the mule, who, kicking at the obstruction, involved not only her but all in the litter in the most serious peril. Yet when I urged the muleteer to halt for a few minutes to put the cordage right, the request only called forth a dangerous sneer, in spite of the appeal to his pity on the ground of my wife’s condition. Her sweet unmurmuring patience, as she bore it all in the gentleness of Christ, was never perhaps more graciously brought home to me than then. Not one word of reproach or even of complaint; only the enduring meekness of her Lord. When the usual halting stage was reached the ropes were tightened—not before.
The sun was at meridian heat when (joy of joys!) we crossed the long-looked-for boundary line, and could say at last, “Shan-si and terror are behind us; we are beyond the reach of Yü-hsien’s power.” Yes, we were actually in Ho-nan, and had begun the descent to yonder plains of living green! Never did my eyes feast with greater satisfaction on a landscape than in that hour on the soft brilliancy of the Paradise spread out before us. It would have been beautiful at any time; but just now it was rendered eminently so by contrast with the brown barrenness of poor drought-dried Shan-si; and especially by the promise of liberty it inspired as the realization at last of hope so long deferred.
We had yet to learn by sad experience that to be quit of Shan-si was by no mean synonymous with being quit of danger, or even of Boxer danger. The spirit of that terrible movement had already infected Ho-nan and inflamed the provincial governor, Yü-chang, with a hatred against the foreigner scarcely less pronounced than that of the Butcher of Shan-si. Then, too, if it was a fact that our papers were irregular, we were liable to be sent back to the dreaded province at any point of the journey, at the discretion of any one of the Mandarins through whose hands we had to pass. Again, events had been transpiring in this very province of which as yet we knew nothing. Of the reign of terror inaugurated here as elsewhere by the bloody edicts of the Empress Dowager; of the flight of all foreign communities; of the riotous attacks upon our brethren and the wrecking of their stations—we were profoundly ignorant. The muleteer’s hint to our captors at Lan-chen Cheo was the nearest approach to information that we had received.
The long descent was over, and we were wending our way amid the verdant rice fields of Ho-nan. The great Tai-hang barrier was between us and Yü-hsien now; and as I looked back upon its gigantic pile of frowning precipice with fervent thanksgiving in my heart, it seemed to parable the miracle of our escape. Every mountain and bill had been made low; the prey of the terrible had been delivered; for Jehovah, the Rock of our strength and our Refuge, had contended with them that contended with us. These reflections gained significance from the fact that at the very time they were in my mind the tragedy of Miss Rice’s martyrdom was being enacted but a few miles distant, in the neighborhood of Tseh-cheo Fu.
An hour or so later we entered a large market town, in the main thoroughfare of which we were halted. The mules were taken out and the litter frame set down, not in an inn, but in the street, inches deep in mud. Our arrival was the signal for a rush from all sides, and we were at once hemmed in by a crowd of uncertain temper. The escort and driver had betaken themselves to the comfort and quiet of an inn, while we were told that if we wanted food we must go to the south suburb for it, and so left alone in the open to shift for ourselves. It was now that the dreaded words “Ta Tao Huei” grated again upon our ears and shook our hearts. Several of the better disposed in the crowd warned us not to adventure ourselves into the south suburb, “as a detachment of the Ta Tao Huei was there.” So, then, the Boxers in Ho-nan was no myth of the muleteer’s conjuring, but a fact; and a fact that we might have to reckon with to our cost now and here, on the very threshold of the province we had thought so peaceful. Moreover, in the light of this information it was not difficult to read the reason of the direction given us by the escort. Our abandonment was clearly in the hope that between Boxers and mob we should be done to death.
Faint and weary, we sought shelter from the scorching blaze and the oppressive crush under the “p’eng” of a small bread shop nearby, where we hoped to get some necessary food as well. Our first experience of Ho-nan friendliness was not encouraging; we were driven from the premises, the shopkeeper refusing even to sell us a piece of bread. So the ladies and the little ones were forced back to the cramped discomfort of the litter in sheer self-defense, the barrier of the poles supplying them with the only relief they could get from the great pressure.
It proved to be one of the most distressing and anxious times in all our experience. For three full hours we were momently expecting an attack. To leave my dear ones and go in search of food was out of the question. Once separated we should never have been united again in this world. Several thousands were on the street. The roadway in front of us was blocked. Tier on tier, right away back to the shops, they were struggling, a dense mass of men and lads, to get near us. The heat and stench!—imagine what it was, with the sun pouring down and any breath of what little air there might have been absolutely shut out! It was fainting work—in hunger and thirst, too. I felt sick enough myself, standing up as I was with my head above the crowd. What those in the litter must have suffered I cannot even guess. The continuous working of the fans (such as they were, and worn now with excessive use) was the one thing in the way of natural means that averted catastrophe. I only know the darling children sobbed much with hunger, terror, heat, sores, and utter weariness. Exhausted with it all, and overborne by her great fatigues, my dear wife settled into a kind of swoon where she sat. Head and back being unsupported, she fell heavily over to one side, striking her head violently against one of the uprights to which the poles were lashed. Such was the rest wherewith they caused the weary to rest—they to whom that gentle spirit had never spoken any other than words of life and love, to whom she was content to be made all things,—yes, even to be made as the filth of the world—if by any means she might save some of them. The rude blow that recalled her to the world of consciousness and dread reality only served to elicit a smile, the heavenliness of which was its own index to the mind and thought within. I shall never forget that smile. The very memory of it is a means of grace to me still.
Now and again a hawker of viands or fruits would come our way; but none would sell to us. At last one man was induced to part with a few plums for an exorbitant price, but a bid for a second installment was refused. Perhaps it was as well for us, ravenous though we were; for they were but half ripe, as is ordinarily the case in China, at least in the north.
As time wore on, the merely uncomfortable element of curiosity gave way to those disquieting signs which our familiarity with Chinese crowds recognized as the precursors of mischief. Noise and jostling were now the order of the hour; and the spirit of something more than rowdiness—a spirit of open hostility—was beginning to break through it. The opprobrious term “iang kuei-tsï” came ominously to the front, and told of a distinct rise in the tide of feeling. Coarse jests were flung across at us, and in many eyes we read the racial hatred that found vent in muttered curse.
Crushed up against the poles of the litter, I was forced to take refuge within them. But the serious thing was that the poles themselves were creaking dangerously under the pressure. If once the framework gave way, it would be a sure signal to the crowd to complete its demolition—and our destruction. A feeling the nearest approach to panic that I had yet experienced came over me as I looked earnestly in the direction of the escort’s inn. The eye of the soul was lifted up to heaven, and in my distress I called upon the Lord and cried unto my God. Not in vain. Just at the very crisis of our great need the driver appeared with the mules, followed by the escort. The crowd fell back, the animals stood, the litter was hoisted, and we were moving through their midst toward Huai-k’ing Fu. Closing in behind us, the mob noisily “song”-ed us to the gate leading to the south suburb—and to the Boxers, whose badge, conspicuous enough, was its own confirmation of the report we had heard. How we ever got through must remain among the multiplied mysteries of our extraordinary escape, and be reckoned among the marvels of our wonder-working God. They demanded of the escort where the “kuei-tsï” were being taken, and for what purpose. The answer probably saved our lives— “To the Fu (Huai-k’ing) for execution.” Notwithstanding, they urged them to set us down and leave us in their hands; but the muleteer again came unwittingly to the rescue, with the spirited answer, “Too late! We have waited all these hours in the place and you have done nothing; you will have to wait now till we get to the Fu.” Whatever they may have thought, they made no demonstration beyond cursing us; but a party of them fell in behind and followed at a distance.
The roads were indescribably awful. Where they were not actually rivers, they were quagmires. Heavy cart and other traffic had churned the softened soil into sticky sloughs, which brought me again and again to the point of despond, as I floundered along here, there, and everywhere. Oozy suction deprived me of my shoe so often that I had (most reluctantly) to discard it altogether; and having no “tai-tsï” to secure my socks above the ankle, nor any time to spare for their rescue and readjustment when systematically drawn off by the same delicate process, I found it expedient to plow (or rather slough) my way for the rest of the journey barefoot.
There were times when, by reason of the depth of the waters, I was compelled to take to the packsaddle. In some parts of the road they widened to the size of a lagoon, from three to four feet deep. It was a peculiar trial to me when this was the case, not so much from the torture of the kia-tsï (though that was bad enough) as from the slowness of my brute. When walking I was able to keep alongside of the litter; but now I had to be separated from my dear ones without knowing when I should be able to overtake them. At last I could stand it no longer; and it happened on this wise. We had come to one of these lagoons—the last as it proved, and the worst, both for depth and extent. The litter took the water first, my seng-k’eo and the escort lagging far behind, as usual. By the time we were entering it, the litter was two-thirds of the way across—naturally, with two strong mules traveling well. I thrashed the seng-k’eo, urging him all I knew; but his hide might have been tanned leather for all the effect it had. Pointing to the litter I called to the owners of the animal to apply a little of their own gentle persuasion, in the natural belief that if any arts would appeal to asinine susceptibility, theirs would. They, however, were as hopeless to deal with as the other. There was nothing for it, therefore, but to resign one’s self to the inevitable, and await the issue quietly. The litter had now reached terra-firma, and was drawing rapidly away. Every minute the distance between us was increasing; and I noted it with a concern that presently became alarm. If once I lost sight of it, I should miss the road they had taken, and what then? Moreover, there came the uncanny suspicion of design in the separation, which grew into the certainty that foul play was intended. Thoughts like these, fostered by circumstance and justified by experience, came thick upon me, while my steed stumbled on at his own sweet will. The climax came when, at the deepest part, he gave himself up to the luxury of his bath, and stood in reveling complacency stubbornly immovable. Meantime, the litter was fading into dim uncertainty. With straining eyes I watched until among the trees, a spectral speck, it turned a corner of the road and disappeared.
For the first time in the history of either flight my loved ones were gone from my sight and I from theirs. I cried in real distress to God to bring me to them ere mischief befell them by the way, and to show me the road they had followed. I would fain have flung myself into the water there and then, but that I could not know the path to take, or the holes and ditches to avoid. The moment we were in shallow water, I promise you I was off at a dash, with bare feet plunging, sliding, sticking in the mire, regardless of anything and everything save the one thing. At the point where I had seen them turn I found a long stretch of road with but one turning at its extremity, and as I pressed the pursuit at the highest speed I could command, my thankfulness knew no bounds when, at no great distance, the litter showed before me, neither spectral nor a speck, but the large substantial thing I had longed to see. The happiness of the reunion on either side—for their anxiety had been scarcely less than my own—was well worth the price paid for it. Not again did I leave them. Yet, indeed, there was no call to repeat the experience; for we were on the outskirts of Huai-k’ing Fu, and in a little more had reached the city gate.
A sorry spectacle we must have presented to the huge crowd that thronged us, as we passed along the street. Our beggarly appearance beggars description. Suffice it to say we looked to their eyes what we were supposed to be, criminals only fit for execution. The sight of our degradation, as legibly stamped upon our mode of conveyance as upon our persons, provoked derisive laughter that followed us the whole way in a continuous roar. One word was upon every lip: “Here come these foreign devils! They are being taken to prison and to death!” My heart failed me as Miss Gates said, “There can be no question, from what they are saying, that we are to die here; for we are not being taken to the yamen at all, but to the common prison.” In high indignation I ran to the leader’s head to stay further progress, insisting that we should be taken to the yamen and our papers handed in to the prefect. Copious abuse and some roughish hustling were meted out to me for my pains, and as they had matters in their own hands the journey continued as before.
To my intense relief, our goal was not the jail after all, but the “Hsien” (or sub-prefect’s) yamen, into the first or outer courtyard of which we were driven and put down just within the gate. Our arrival had been anticipated and carefully prepared for. Soldiers and runners were in waiting to keep back the mob that pressed in after us. Not only so, but the Ta Lao-ie’s palanquin was set there in evident readiness for immediate use. Almost before we had time to realize where we were, the cries of the runners to clear the road announced the coming of the Great Man, who hastily took his seat and was lifted to the shoulders of the bearers. The boom of the great gong that preceded him and the shouts of the underlings opened a way for the procession through the dense mass about us, and past us swept his Lordship without deigning to lift his eyes. The next moment we were drawn into the vortex of soldiers and vassals who brought up the rear, and ordered to “follow the chair.”
“Follow the chair!” What did it mean? It meant the greatest indignity in the eyes of the Chinese that could be offered to European women. It was an insult of the most flagrant type. That these two ladies should be made to walk the streets, exposed to the gaze of the male populace, told the tale that in its estimation we could not sink lower in the scale of being than we had sunk. Not only so, the insult was aggravated by the fact that it was offered officially. By the Mandarin’s own orders it was that they were compelled to take a place intended to brand them with shame, degradation and reproach—a place among the menials behind the chair. In the light of his after behavior towards us, I cannot help hoping that he did it to blind the eyes of the hostile mob to his real intentions, leading them to believe that he was taking us to execution when all the while he was scheming for our deliverance. But when I have said that, I have said all that can be said in extenuation. Nothing short of such a motive could justify such a proceeding.
Never shall I forget that walk. If ever we realized what it was to be made a spectacle to men, as the offscouring of all things, it was then. On either side of the street were ranged the city’s thousands; around us and on before, the motley horde of yamen henchmen and parasites. Borne by eight stalwart runners, the Great Man’s chair hurried on at official pace, heralded by the great gong and the usual Trumpery of yamen insignia. To keep up with it was a sheer impossibility, and with not a little anxiety we saw it getting farther and farther away. In their state of exhaustion, however, it was impossible for the ladies not to lag. The tender years, too, of the tiny children had to be taken into account, not to mention the layers of mud grease under our feet, the tendency of which was to take us two steps back for everyone that we took forward. However, we were expected to do the impossible, and a yamen guard of soldiers made it their business to aid us in the attempt. We kept together as far as we could, but the hurrying, hustling runners about us made it very difficult. Miss Gates was on just a little ahead with Hedley, while I held Hope with one hand, and with the other supported my wife, whose indomitable faith and courage bore her up in an unflinching, uncomplaining endurance that made me marvel at the power of the grace of God.
We must have traversed the city from one end to the other—so interminably long was the way—when we arrived at the place where the Great Man’s chair had been set down. It proved to be the “kong-kuan,” or official inn, reserved exclusively for yamen use. We were ordered to enter; the doors were shut and locked behind us, and we were taken to a room lofty and comparatively clean, but absolutely destitute of furniture. There was not even so much as a straw mat to sit or lie on—nothing but the earth floor. A minute later a couple of chairs were brought in for our use, and another placed in the courtyard fronting the door, whereon his Excellency seated himself, surrounded by his retinue. Though considerably under middle height, the dignity of his bearing, supported by the richness of his robes, the pomp and circumstance of office, and the consciousness of power, carried his inches easily into feet, and made him almost as mighty a potentate in our eyes as he was in his own. We were now ordered into the august presence; but as my wife was too exhausted to stand, she was allowed to remain seated at the door. Our respectful bow was not returned—(how should it be? indeed, our presumption was great in not making, and his forbearance greater in not demanding, the “k’eh-teo”)—nor were his eyes once raised from their fixed and studied downward gaze. As we presented ourselves before him, he rose and remained standing throughout the short interview, in the course of which he asked all about the journey, why we had left our station, and where we were going. On hearing that we were making for Hankow, he remarked, “You are on a fool’s errand, for you will never get there”; and with a few instructions to those about him haughtily took his departure.
The comparative kindliness of his manner was so unexpected after what we had hitherto experienced of official treatment, that our hopes rose correspondingly, and our spirits with them. The luxury of a place of refuge from the pressure of rude and hostile crowds, and of leisure (however short) for undisturbed rest, tended in the same direction; and when at length a savory meal was brought in steaming hot and set before us, it seemed no longer possible to doubt that we had fallen by God’s mercy into good hands; and with fervent thanksgiving we blessed His Holy Name.
Having no definite clue, however, to the Mandarin’s real intentions, we were not able to divest ourselves entirely of the fears that had by this time become a settled part of our constitution. All along the route it had been dinned into our ears that there was nothing before us but prison and death. As we looked at the place of our abode, we could only acknowledge to ourselves that after all it was a prisoners’ cell. Then, too, had not the official’s last word to us been that we should never get to Hankow? And was not this intended to convey, not only that our execution was certain, but that it might even be carried out there? Such thoughts would present themselves; but when an hour or two later the gate was opened to admit a company of soldiers armed with sword and gun, they revived with a certainty that seemed only too well grounded. For aught we knew to the contrary, the intention was to have us privately put to death in the “kong-kuan” during the night; and these were the executioners.
A night passed under apprehensions such as these could hardly be called good in the conventional sense. Yet good it was; for the loving-kindness of our God was manifested in many ways. For instance, the door of our cell was not locked, and we were allowed free access to the courtyard, the gate of which was guarded by sentries. Permission was also granted to take water for washing purposes from the “kang” (or great stone water butt) and two straw mats—filthy enough, but preferable to direct contact with mother earth—were handed in for the use of the women and children. We were glad to catch at every little thing, however shadowy, that could be construed into an evidence of goodwill, and sought to make what return we could to the guard in the way of thanks and courteous attention. In this way we prayed that the occasional word we sought to introduce, as far as they would allow it, on the one theme, might find the readier access to their heart.
My beggar’s rag, with the little store of copper cash in it, formed a pillow for the children, and while rummaging for the purpose in a small inner cell leading off our own, I was fortunate in hitting upon two loose bricks, one for my wife to rest her head upon, the other for Miss Gates. A further search brought out a half brick for myself; so we were all supplied with pillows for once. The night was sultry, and outside at the threshold I kept watch under the stars. Oh, the contrast of that still peaceful night with what we had been experiencing, almost without intermission, of racket, rush and riot for days and nights together! Even the fear of death seemed to pass in the unbroken calm that reigned about us.
So the darkness wore away, with no other movement on the part of the guard than an occasional challenge when I got up to ease my aching limbs, or than what was necessary for their own comfort and the ordering of the opium tray. Then the stars paled and slowly slipped from sight. The sky was once more reddening in the east, and by sunrise the courtyard was a scene of animation. Two large three-mule carts were in waiting, into which we were hastily thrust—the ladies and little Hope in the first, Hedley and I following; and ere the city was awake, we were rumbling out of the great gate under a guard of eight soldiers with fixed bayonets, officered by the “Shaoie” himself on horseback, with a couple of mounted troopers to bring up the rear.