<p style='text-align: justify;'>George Evans Moule (1828-1912), a graduate and Honorary Fellow of Corpus Christi College Cambridge, entered the Church Missionary Society and arrived at Ningbo in 1858, where he was joined by his younger brother Arthur Evans Moule (1836-1918) in 1861. In 1880 he was consecrated as the first Bishop of Mid-China.</p><p style='text-align: justify;'>Bishop Moule's youngest son Arthur Christopher Moule (1873-1957), born in China, a graduate and Fellow of Trinity College Cambridge, succeeded H.A. Giles as Professor of Chinese and Honorary Keeper of Chinese Books in the University Library (1933-1938). The Library has many Chinese books from his and his father's collections.</p><p style='text-align: justify;'>The item shown here is inscribed in pencil: "Protection under hand and seals of the Choo-tseang [主将] Hwang and Fan for G. Moule's house." Huang Wenjin 黄文金 (1832-1864) and Fan Ruzeng 范汝增 (1840-1867) were prominent figures in the Taiping movement, later created Taiping 'Kings' and killed in battle. They are both mentioned in the vivid narrative written by A.E. Moule reproduced below, which relates the circumstances in which this document was created.</p><p style='text-align: justify;'><b>Personal Recollections of the T'ai-p'ing Rebellion 1861-63 by the Ven. Archdeacon Moule, Shanghai: Printed at the "Celestial Empire" Office 1884</b></p><p style='text-align: justify;'><i>The following lecture by the Ven. Archdeacon Moule, was read before the Shanghai Literary and Debating Society, on Tuesday, December 4th, 1883; and it is now reprinted from the columns of the "Shanghai Courier"</i>.</p><p style='text-align: justify;'>Many years ago I was travelling in the province of Chehkiang when I met accidentally a Chinese merchant who had returned from a long journey in the interior, visiting, as he told me, the southern part of Szechuen and the Yunnan province. He had heard positive tidings of the T'ai-p'ings, whose power we supposed by that time to have entirely collapsed. Some 100,000 of them had settled down in the south-west of China, Imperialist mandarins and the people generally giving way before them. They were quiet enough, if unmolested; but showed fierce fight, as of old, if meddled with. These remnants of the once mighty host were (if we may trust recent accounts) driven at last over the Chinese border into Tongking: and they form the main force of the Black Flags, who have given the French so much trouble recently. It is within the bounds of possibility that, should war after all break out between France and China, the long dead T'ai-p'ings may have, though late, their revenge, by the overthrow of the Manchu dynasty, which dynasty was already tottering to its fall, and but for foreign interference would have fallen at the time when I first made the acquaintance of the T'ai-p'ings. This connection, at any rate, may afford sufficient apology for my troubling you to-night with a narrative which some may deem out of date, stale, or worn threadbare.</p><p style='text-align: justify;'>A word or two of further introduction will be necessary in order to avoid digression in the course of my story. And first is to the origin and object of this great insurrectionary movement. Hung-sew-tsuen, the recognised leader of the rebellion, was born just 70 years ago, in a village 38 miles N.E. of Canton. The family is said to have attained to great distinction in former times; and one of the ancestors of Hung-sew-tsuen fought as generalissimo of the Mings in their last struggle, a memory which may have aided in stimulating his hostility to the Manchus. His father, a Hakka, though headman of the village, was only a poor husbandman; but his son, having shown marked ability, was carefully educated, and distinguished himself at the preliminary examinations. He failed, however, repeatedly at the final trial for his degree; no mark of ignorance or incompetence indeed, when one remembers that for the degree of siu-tsai there are on an average 1,000 competitors at the district cities and only 30 prizes; whilst for the degree of kyü-zen at the provincial capitals there may be from 10 to 15,000 competitors and only 90 or 100 degrees conferred. Hung-sew-tsuen, however, would not be comforted by this reflection; and his frequent failures, attributable, as he was persuaded, to gross bribery and favouritism, unsettled and dissatisfied his mind. Some accounts, indeed, represent him as successful both in obtaining the first and second degree; but as continually barred from office by corrupt and prejudiced superiors. In 1833 he met in Canton a strange-looking foreigner preaching; probably it was Morrison himself, for Morrison did not die till 1836. Shortly after this he received from Leang-a-fah, Morrison's faithful, estimable, but poorly-educated, convert, some books and tracts of his own compilation. These books were laid aside for some years. In 1837 (four years later) after another plucking at the examinations, he fell ill for 40 days, and saw visions which were ever after quoted as the cause and explanation of the great rebellion. A Divine being appeared to him, so he asserted, with the command to destroy the idols and the imps - i.e., the Manchus, but to spare the people. Twenty-four years later at Ningpo we heard the echo of those voices in his vision. "Don't fear," said the T'ai-p'ing soldiers, and they rushed through the streets with drawn swords; "we only fight against the imps and the idols. You people need not be alarmed." The war of 1842 opened the eyes of Hung-sew-tsuen to the power of the strange foreigners whom he had seen in Canton. He bethought him of his long-neglected books; and studying them he seemed to find a confirmation of his visions in their pages.</p><p style='text-align: justify;'>In 1844 his friend and first convert Fung-yun-san, an earnest simple-minded man, helped him to found in Kwangsi a "Society of Worshippers of God," renouncing idolatry, and abjuring the glory and pleasures of this present evil world.</p><p style='text-align: justify;'>In 1847 he applied for baptism to Mr. Roberts, an American Baptist missionary at Canton, who later on joined his early inquirer at Nanking. Mr. Roberts, however, deferred him, as the hope of mission employ was obviously one motive in the application. Meanwhile the new society, zealous in iconoclasm, attracted the notice of the authorities.</p><p style='text-align: justify;'>In 1850 the little band had to stand on their defence against Imperialist soldiers sent to attack them. They were successful in their first fight; and having taking up arms, large crowds flocked to the standard of the Dynasty of Great Peace; defence turned into attack, and in three short years they fought and burnt their way through Kwangsi, Hoonan ("Hoonan has been trodden in dust and ashes," says a contemporary Imperial decree), Hupeh, An-hwei up to Nanking, which they stormed March 19th, 1853, and occupied for 10 years as the centre of their power. 20,000 Manchus were slaughtered in the sacking of the city. At this time the total T'ai-p'ing strength was estimated at from 60 to 80,000 trusted adherents - divided into five armies of 13,125 men each; besides 100,000 at least, of non-combatants, doing duty as porters, trench diggers, and artificers. The whole movement was doubtless largely swollen by reinforcements from the Triad, White Lily, and other secret societies, and it is worth observing that the accession of these motley crowds, most of whom were either innocent of all religion, or devoted adherents of the God of War alone, may have exerted a powerful influence in neutralising and eventually obliterating the religious element in the T'ai-p'ings which I notice below. In 1854 they advanced in two streams of war, one from Nganking, one from Nanking northward till within 20 miles of Tientsin, they were checked in November by Tartar horsemen. Retiring slowly and capturing city after city in Chihli, Shantung, Shansi, and Honan, they were beleaguered in Nanking by large Imperialist forces. Hard pressed and crippled by the terrific fights amongst the subordinate Wangs in Nanking, when 30,000 people were slain by violence and stratagem, yet in March 1860 they broke suddenly through the cordon; and then followed the most brilliant achievements of their long campaign. They advanced rapidly on Hangchow; stormed the outer city; sacked it; and after three days of pillage and bloodshed, described to me by eye-witnesses as a time of unspeakable horror, they evacuated the city, wheeled round, passed at a distance the Imperialist host lumbering heavily in pursuit, reached Nanking, swept away the Imperialist forts and encampments, and annihilated for the time the Imperialist power in that region, 70,000 Imperialist soldiers having joined the rebel power. Soochow also, with a large part of Kiangsu, fell under their sway at this time.</p><p style='text-align: justify;'>In 1861 two auxiliary armies, one apparently from Soochow and one from the S.W., moving down the Tsien-tang River, invaded the fair province of Chehkiang, determined, if possible, to secure their long-felt want of a port, and friendly intercourse with western powers, which seemed impossible at Shanghai from the hostile attitude assumed by foreigners there. After their repulse in Chehkiang, which I am about to relate, they swept through Kiangse into Fuhkien; and thus from first to last at least 13 out of the 18 provinces of China proper felt the power and blighting influence of their presence.</p><p style='text-align: justify;'>"From Canton to the Great Wall," wrote the <i>N.-C. Herald</i>, January 3rd, 1857, "from the shores of the Pacific to the mountains of Thibet, there are no provinces where there have not been disorders; while in most there is now open rebellion."</p><p style='text-align: justify;'>Samuel Mossman, in his story, "The Mandarin's Daughter," speaks of an area of 726,000 square miles, representing 1,200 miles of latitude and 600 of longitude, as traversed by the T'ai-p'ings, and of 10,000,000 lives as sacrificed in the struggle.</p><p style='text-align: justify;'>Comparatively little, from personal observation, is known of the religious character of the movement during the years which elapsed between their first taking up arms and their contact with foreigners at Nanking, at Soochow, and at Ningpo. Probably the very fact of taking up arms, professedly for the violent and compulsory propagation of the religion of Him who died a violent death voluntarily to save men from ruin, gradually blighted, as in such cases generally takes place, and soon well nigh eradicated the early Christian element.</p><p style='text-align: justify;'>I do not touch here upon the question of the lawfulness of rebellion and revolution. It was the mixture of the two movements - religious reform and political revolt against magisterial oppression - which probably ruined the enterprise. "They are robbers and Christians; they are Christians and robbers," said an irate Chinaman to Sir G. Bonham in 1853. And yet one cannot refuse to recognize the conspicuous courage of the T'ai-p'ing leaders; on the one hand in daring to link on to a popular political movement the profession of the religion of the unpopular foreigner; (in 1854 a body of 2,000 men from the south, coming to join the T'ai-p'ings, went over to the Imperialists rather than become compulsory Christians;) and on the other hand in daring to be consistent, and whilst earnestly desiring the friendship of foreigners, yet agreeing in one thing at least with the Manchus whom they were extirpating, viz., the avowed intention of annihilating the trade in opium, so dear in those days to foreigners.</p><p style='text-align: justify;'>In its earlier stage this remarkable movement was so far as religion was concerned, Protestant in Christian doctrine, Monotheistic, Iconoclastic, and Sabbatarian; whilst opium-smoking and spirit-drinking were ranged under infractions of the Seventh Commandment. Abundant reasons are hinted at in these tenets and principles, for the malignant hatred with which the movement was regarded by many critics both ecclesiastical and mercantile. And it is impossible to restrain the wondering exclamation - What might have followed in China, had the strange movement possessed wiser guides and advisers, had they kept the rule laid down in the Proclamation of 1851 never to go into the villages to seize people's goods; had the Bible been introduced as the Text Book in the Public Service examinations bringing with it the study of the Book in its original languages, as T.T. Meadows anticipated in 1857; had the distinct elevation in the status of woman, which for a time was observed in Nanking, spread through the land; and had the lust of rapine and the intoxication of success been restrained. To be even handed, we must not forget to notice that the Imperialists, in their struggle for existence, fought under serious disadvantages. When the Rebellion began, they had the double incubus to bear of loss of prestige by the first disastrous war with England, and of the payment also of a heavy indemnity. When the Rebellion was nearing its grand climacteric, a second war seriously weakened the power of the Manchus. So badly paid were their troops, that at the outposts the men used frequently to fling their swords over to the T'ai-pings, who pitched back sycee silver in return.</p><p style='text-align: justify;'>The arrival of Hung-jin, cousin of Hung-sew-tsuen, and formerly an evangelist at Hongkong in mission employ, exercised in 1860 a favourable effect for a while both at Soochow and in Nanking. One clause in this man's proclamation issued as the Shield King of the Dynasty, runs in hopeful lines: "Foreigners are never to be called by opprobrious names. Missionaries are to travel and to live and to preach everywhere. Railroads and steamboats, fire and life insurance companies, and newspapers were to be freely introduced for the good of China."</p><p style='text-align: justify;'>Our venerable friend and founder Mr. Muirhead was to be found in 1860 at Nanking, diligently engaged in his loved employ, street-preaching, round the palace of the T'ien Wang, and amidst crowds of long-haired hearers. Much hope was entertained by some of those who visited Soochow and even Nanking of ultimate good out of abounding evil. But the evil for the time triumphed. The Kan-wang himself could not resist the force of the tide; and in his latter days he was guilty of gross cruelty and violence. The opinion of a sober and at first favourably prejudiced observer, the late Bishop Russell, was that the rebels at Ningpo to whom I introduce you to-night, had no religion, were worse than the heathen and lacked well nigh wholly those two bright features in Chinese character, education and politeness.</p><p style='text-align: justify;'>Ningpo, the centre of the operations of which I was eyewitness from 1861-3 is well known to most of my audience; but I may remind you of its position, rendering it almost impregnable, if held by a resolute force. The ancient city which is said to have been visited in the 3rd century B.C. by the celebrated Tsin-shih-hwang, the great wall builder, book burner, and scholar harrier, was planted on a site still pointed out some 10 miles east of the present Ningpo. The hills of Yüeh (the modern Chehkiang) formed, indeed, the southern limit of the Empire consolidated by this remarkable man on the ruins of the Chinese feudal system. The modern city is probably about 1,000 years old. This at any rate is the date assigned in the Pagoda of the Heavenly <i>apex</i>; and the building of the circling walls and geomantic pagodas of Chinese cities was, I believe, always the first step in the foundation of such cities. This modern City of the Peaceful Wave has a triple line of defence. The outer line consists of hills varying from a few hundred to 2,000 or 3,000 feet in height, circling round the great plain of Ningpo like the curving slopes of an amphitheatre. The water approach is by the small River Yung, which narrows at Chinhai, its mouth, to scarcely 100 yards. Chinhai is strongly fortified; and the only available point on the nearer coast is the low land joining the Chinhai rocks to the great crouching Dragon-hill in Sanpo; and the water washing those few miles of muddy shore is shallow and dangerous. The inner line of defence consists of the two branches of the River Yung flowing past the N.E. and S.E. walls; and a broad moat from 50 to 100 yards wide from the south to the north gates of the city. The only land approach consists of a narrow neck of ground outside the north gate, which can be very easily stockaded. The third and last line is the city wall itself: a massive earthwork wide enough at the top to run five or six jinricshas abreast; and faced with masonry, defying our heaviest ordnance in 1861.</p><p style='text-align: justify;'>When I reached Ningpo in the month of August, 1861, the city had recently been inspected by Captain Goodenough of H.M.S. <i>Algerine</i>; and some formidable pieces of English cannon were in position on the walls. Even then great anxiety was felt in the city and country alike as to the approaching storm.</p><p style='text-align: justify;'>Shortly after my arrival I went for a ten days trip into the country with my brother. Nothing could well have exceeded the beauty of the scenery in those bright October days. The late rice lay in deep yellow masses covering the plains; the hills stood in their countless varieties of form, fresh and fragrant and peaceful; with late autumn flowers dotting their sides, wild pinks, bluebells, and the tea flowers; and groves here and there of the persimmum with its hanging red and yellow fruit; and over all the clear blue arch of the day. But nothing could have been more pathetic than the expression of gnawing anxiety and tyrannous suspense which we noticed on all sides, and which seemed to hang like a dark pall over the inhabitants of these fair regions. Every village which we visited, greeted us with eager questions. Are they coming? Is there any fear? Need we fly?</p><p style='text-align: justify;'>When we returned to Ningpo we found that a serious panic had set in. T'ai-p'ing spies had been caught in the city; and some of them were beheaded with much shouting on the Parade Ground in front of our Mission House. It was known that the rebel hosts were on the move; that Shaoshing was being threatened, and that the avowed intention of the leaders was to attack Ningpo. The city walls looked brave and warlike; fluttering with flags all round the five miles circuit. But no display of bunting, no amount of cannon or jingal practice could arrest the sad and headlong exodus which now commenced and ceased not till the city fell in December, when of the 400,000 inhabitants, there remained by the very highest estimate but 20,000 within the walls. Numbers fled in junks and lorchas to Shanghai, and a large proportion of these fell a prey to the pirate fleets hovering all round the Chusan Islands; numbers fled to the hills and to the country villages, and met there later on a worse fate than those in the city. November was wet and cold and gloomy; and it was an inexpressibly melancholy sight to meet the crowds of fugitives hurrying through the dripping streets, with despair on their faces. The crowding on Nov. 2 was so great that a woman was crushed to death on the Bridge of Boats. We began to lay in stores as for a siege. Rice and all provisions rose rapidly in price; and the dollar exchange one week reached 1,800 each.</p><p style='text-align: justify;'>On the 3rd the news arrived that Shaoshing had fallen.The gates on the 5th were ordered to be shut early. A slight lull in the panic occurred on the 6th when Lieut. Huxham of the <i>Kestrel</i> and his officers rode round the wall at the request of the Chinese Protection Guild, and the rumour spread at once that 1,000 red coats were coming to defend the city.</p><p style='text-align: justify;'>On the 9th came the news that Sir F. Bruce had sent positive orders not to interfere with the T'ai-p'ings; and the French Consul having quarrelled with the Chinese Admiral, he also refused to help; and so the panic and the mad exodus resumed their course.</p><p style='text-align: justify;'>The unfortunate authorities in the city did their poor best to put the place in a state of defence. On November 9th when walking on the walls, we observed bamboo cranes fixed ready to let down heavy beams of wood bristling with iron or wooden spikes on to the heads of the assailants. On the 22nd, Fun-hwa, a hien city to the S.W., only 30 miles off, was reported as taken, by a great contingent under Fan, the second in command, the main body under Wang advancing meanwhile on Yü-yao and Tsz-ch'i to the North. On the 24th a terrible calamity occurred; the apron-strings of a man working in a powder factory caught fire without his being aware, and the whole place blew up. Some 30 or 40 men were fearfully burnt; and almost all of them succumbed, though tenderly nursed and doctored all night by my brother and a missionary doctor living near; 19 members of one family were amongst the sufferers, and a grandfather, son, and grandson lay close to each other in agony, and soon in death. The owner of the magazine, driven mad by his calamities, threw himself into the canal, but was rescued just in time. 100 days before this event, a similar explosion had destroyed another of his sheds. He went into the country with his family and the house in which they were staying was burnt down. He had returned to the city this very day to look after his business, when this second explosion took place. But such sorrows and calamities were soon swallowed up in the great sea of misery coming in as with an earthquake wave.</p><p style='text-align: justify;'>On the 25th Yü-yao fell. A great fire in the S.W. alarmed us at night. Next day we heard that 3,000 houses had been destroyed; and that the rebels might be on us by noon. Two gentlemen, Messrs. Fisher and Jackson, returned to-day from the country. They had seen the rebel chiefs, and brought papers from them, chiefly for the Roman Catholic Mission. If foreigners would leave them alone, they would leave us alone. On the 20th, Mrs. Moule and I left the city and crossed to the Settlement, in accordance with the Consul's recommendation that all who could not speak Chinese fluently should quit their intramural residences; but until two days before the city fell we crossed the river daily and entered the city for Chinese study. The same day the <i>Kestrel</i> steamed 30 miles up the northern branch of the river to Yü-yao - having the foreign Consuls on board. Their object was to parley with the Rebel Chiefs. Vast clouds of smoke now rose to the north-west, evidently from Tsz-ch'i, a proud and rich hien city only 12 miles off. The rumour spread at nightfall that the great Tsin-da-kwun, a temple the glory and pride of all that region, had been burnt to ground. This temple has never since been rebuilt. Now by the Taotai's order houses in the North and East gate suburbs were fired lest they should afford shelter to the besiegers. The crash as they fell from time to time sounded ominous on the evening air. That fire blazed unchecked for nearly a fortnight, the whole of the vast and rich suburb from the East Gate to the Bridge of Boats having been swept away. The <i>Kestrel</i> was now seen returning. She brought ample promises from the rebels that the Settlement should not be touched, nor foreigners molested, nor the people wantonly slaughtered; promises which so far as such a rabble host could be controlled, were for a time faithfully observed. On December 1st a man well known to us appeared in a chair with four bearers, at Mr. Russell's house. He was a special messenger from Loh-sing-lan, a rich resident of Tsz-ch'i; the purveyor to the British forces when they occupied Ningpo in 1844, a sworn friend of foreigners, and now compelled by the T'ai-p'ings to govern his native city, which though it had opened its gates to the invaders, and had welcomed them by a deputation of submission, was half destroyed by wanton incendiarism. Loh-sing-lan sent this bold messenger, actually with rebel uniform on under his clothes, at the imminent risk of his head, to buy silk, and to deliver letters to Mr. Russell, requesting the loan of his pony, and announcing the near approach of 100,000 "brethren." Mr. Russell fearing a tragedy, instantly got into the chair himself, made this messenger follow as his servant, and saw him safe beyond the Imperialist lines. Loh-sing-lan subsequently became Taotai of Ningpo under the T'ai-p'ings and met with a sad and shameful end after the expulsion of the long-haired, whom he unwillingly served.</p><p style='text-align: justify;'>On December 7th we crossed the ferry as usual and went into the city; watching as we crossed the great fire at the East Gate now blazing for its 4th day. Chinese study proceeded with more or less success till 11 a.m. when a knock was heard at the door, and Mr. Rankin, an American missionary, with whom we were lodging in the Settlement, ran in to say that the T'ai-p'ings in force were outside the West gate, and as the city was being shut fast, we must run for it if we wished to reach the Settlement in time. We started therefore at once. There was a great crush at the Salt gate. Soldiers were trying to keep back the crowd and force to the great leaves of the gate. As we came up the heavy bar fell close to my wife's head; a most merciful escape it was. We passed out, and the gate was shut. Mr. Rankin, who followed half an hour later, was let down over the wall in a basket. This kind friend of ours was the first to descry through his binocular from the West gate wall the pennons of the advancing host. He handed the glass to the commandant. The old soldier gazed, and then with an ah-yah, ah-yah, ah-yah yet louder and louder, he handed back the glass, and prepared for the worst. On the 8th, Sunday, a still December day, with haze covering the distant hills, we heard firing from the southern side of the City. The rebel hosts were all round the place, and were preparing to assault; and as they showed themselves from time to time, the Imperialist gunners brought their pieces to bear and fired. A loud noise followed as was to be expected, and the long boom on the still frosty air sounded formidable. But the fire was for the most part absolutely harmless. The balls were too small and were badly rammed home, and they rolled out as the gun was depressed and dropped tamely on to the ground before the roar of the explosion. We attended service in the N. bank Chapel that morning. The preacher was late; and someone else began the service. Presently the preacher, our friend Dr. Lord, entered, considerably hurried and excited, and no wonder. The rebel chief commanding outside the N. gate had called at his house and walking with him along the river bank, the party had been descried by the garrison; they fired, and a ball came whizzing over the Doctor's head.</p><p style='text-align: justify;'>On the 9th we rose early; and watched first of all the terrible conflagration at the East gate. Suddenly we saw flags waved on the wall near the Salt Gate just opposite Mr. Rankin's house. The rumour flies about that the T'ai-p'ings have stormed successfully and secured a footing on the southern wall. In rushes a friend to say he had seen himself the storming of the North gate. Now two Cantonese war junks which had been anchored near that gate are seen hastily to weigh, and with a harmless parting shot of cowardly defiance they hurry down the river with the ebbing tide, and do not reappear again for five months, and then only under the stern of British men-of-war. We watch from our verandah. Horsemen with gay colours, shouting and careering, ride rapidly under the wall from the North gate. Suddenly they rein up, and walk their horses slowly and cautiously. The <i>Hardy</i> has her 72-pounder pivot gun run out in an ugly and threatening manner. They pass her range. She is silent; and then with a shout they scamper on to the Salt Gate, which they find opened for them. The North gate was so strongly stockaded that they could not readily enter there; though the city had fallen. The fight was a short but brilliant one for the T'ai-p'ings. They had noticed the great beams of wood prepared for their destruction, and ransacking the houses near, the storming parties secured tables with thick mattresses and coverlets spread over them. Floating these with their scaling ladders by their side, they swim the moat, rush under the walls, receive unharmed the beams on the wadded tables, wherever the garrison have the heart to lower them; in an instant their ladders are fixed, and the T'ai-p'ings like wild cats have mounted. The garrison with a shout breaks up and flies, and flinging off their outer jacket, their only uniform, rush amongst the terrified crowds in the streets, hoping thus to escape slaughter. Now we hear one of the church bells ring violently in the city; and Mr. Rankin and Mr. Morrison cross at once. They returned at 12.30 with stirring tidings. The slaughter in the city was not great, though many dead bodies were seen. But the rebel bands, consisting largely of lads trained to blood from childhood, were hard to restrain. Most of the mission houses bad been entered, and the churches broken into. Our own house where my brother was on guard was over-run by these eager victors. Our mission school boys, who were housed there for safety, were seized, tied tail to tail, and were on the point of being driven off like sheep. Several valuable articles were appropriated - my brother's watch, a fur cloke, my large telescope (the latter rescued with difficulty by my brother) and but for the arrival of Siao-kyin-tsz, "Little Looking Glass," one of the rebel leaders, who know foreigners well, and promptly drove off his rabble soldiers, violence would have followed. Many of our Chinese converts were carried off from the chapels where they had taken refuge; and only the bold attitude of Messrs. Russell and Burdon, who guarded the house where Mrs. Russell with her girls' school was still remaining, prevented violence there too.</p><p style='text-align: justify;'>On the 10th I went into the city, and spent the day with my brother. We were unmolested in the streets; but the men we met, with shaggy heads, drawn swords, and variegated uniforms, looked ready for any outrage. I found a T'ai-p'ing sitting in our hall, stationed there by Little Looking Glass to warn off intruders. In the afternoon Mr. Harry Parkes and Captain Corbett of the <i>Scout</i> called - a pleasant and cheering interlude. Sir Harry has not forgotten his Chinese now after 17 years spent in Japan; and on this afternoon 22 years ago he had given to the rebel chiefs a portion of his mind in idiomatic and energetic language, much to their astonishment. Our missionary friends in the City and under the wall meanwhile were having a warm time of it. The venerable Baptist Missionary Hudson had his house full of Chinese refugees when the city was stormed. The old gentleman was conducting prayers for these poor people with much composure, on the morning of the assault. He sat with his back to the door, and was surprised to see a sudden look of horror pass over the faces of his audience. He turned and saw T'ai-p'ing soldiers with drawn swords at the door. He rose, bowed to these formidable visitors, informed them that he was engaged in Divine worship, and invited them in. But stay, said he, - these poor people are nervous, and the sight of your weapons makes them uncomfortable; kindly allow me to take charge of them for you. So he disarmed them - placed the swords in the inner room - made the soldiers sit down - gave them a very long expository discourse; and then returning their swords, exhorted them to act justly and gently, and bowed them out. The men left the house without any violence and with many expressions of approbation. Our venerable and courageous friend told me this himself when a few days later I was commissioned to take to his house the Consul's order to quit the City at once, as life was in danger. I found him barricaded in his upper room, and very loathe to move; and as a matter of fact he took his own time over the process. From this date till the 20th (10 days of great anxiety and no slight danger) I was for the most part in the city, with my brother, helping to rescue our Christian converts and other refugees, and to escort them out of the city. During the second night which I spent in the city, we were alarmed at 11 p.m., by a disturbance in our back yard; presently a gentle knock was heard; we opened and saw a young Chinaman and his wife standing trembling. They had scaled our yard wall when the city fell, let themselves down into the well, and there had stayed listening in terror and hunger for two days and two nights. They now begged protection. Three days later I started with one of the passes granted by the T'ai-p'ing chiefs for our people to be transferred to the Settlement. My party consisted of this young couple, two men and a boy. All went well till we reached the Salt Gate, when a huge burly T'ai-p'ing ran after us; seized me by the shoulder; broke a stick over the backs of the men; and said we should not go out. My little band were terrified; and wished to turn back. But with indignant if not very fluent Chinese I told the fellow who I was, and that these were my people, that we had permission from his chiefs, and that I would go. The man was obstinate; and I felt not a little alarmed. But we moved forward; and, to my thankful surprise, he let me go. Having seen the poor trembling refugees safely into the ferry-boat, I returned alone; and looked carefully round the corner expecting my gigantic assailant to reappear, but he did not. We were able to rescue many hundreds of poor people during these days from a life of misery and oppression and anxiety in the city. On one occasion Mr. Dodd of the American Presbyterian Mission and I took out a party of 55 men, women, and children, who had been in safe keeping the roof of one of our mission chapels. There was a tremendous downpour of rain, and the streets were flooded, but this was well for us, for the T'ai-p'ings kept in-doors. I led the van, my friend held the post of honour in the rear. A poor little Chinese dwarf was at the head of the long line just behind me. He was nearly downed in the deep pools of water; but we all got safely out of the city. The T'ai-p'ings were at this time living in absolute security. One night Mr. Dodd and I were late entering the city. We could make no one hear at the gate, so we procured a ladder, scaled the wall, descended into the city, and met no one but a harmless boy all the way to our house. On the 20th we finally evacuated the city. Mrs. Russell was escorted over the river by Captain Corbett and the Consul; and from that date till May 20th, 1862, we were shut out from our mission houses, and our work was nearly at a standstill. A poor old beggar woman met at this time with a melancholy fate. She had saved after long years some 70 or 80 dollars. These beloved pieces of silver she feared to take away, and could not abandon. So she hid them in a coffin which she had bought for herself, and had deposited in her hovel. She put on the lid carefully, and then reassumed the air of abject poverty and misery. Alas! a mischievous neighbour had watched all this through a chink in the partition. He went off, undertook to lead the T'ai-p'ings to a treasure trove if they would let him share in the spoils. They consented; were led straight to the coffin; rifled it; and left the poor old woman in despair to hobble out of the city and die, - as she actually <i>did</i> die, in utter misery under the wall a few days later. Strangely fell our Christmas eve in 1861. I started with the Consul and Mr. Fleming to try and find holly berries on December 24th. Near the South Gate we met Fan, the second in command, on horseback. He was well mounted and looked full of energy and a thorough soldier. He reined up and wanted to know where we were going. Only for a walk, we replied. So with a friendly salutation he passed on. We were soon benighted, but found the object of our search by running our heads into a holly bush. The desolation outside the city was terrible, and the number of dead bodies very great. We had found now our holly, but we had lost our way; we saw a solitary light in a village well nigh deserted; we knocked and an old man came out. Could he lend us a lantern? Yes, but he had no candle. But he kindly offered to guide us; and further on at an old monastery, which had been spared, we secured a candle. It was a perilous walk home; for we passed under the walls, and might have been stoned or fired upon as spies by the soldiers whom we heard talking on the wall as they changed the guard.</p><p style='text-align: justify;'>The rebel chiefs at first were anxious to maintain order. A very strict proclamation was issued against plundering; and many soldiers, who were caught in the act, were summarily beheaded. A man was arrested by some foreigners committing an atrocious outrage on some poor neighbours of one of our mission houses. He was instantly executed by Wang's orders; and the next day another man, being caught at the same vile work, the captor shrinking from the task of leading him off to certain death, produced a stout shillelagh, and summoning a petty officer, bade him belabour this private well, if he did not wish him beheaded. The officer did it with a will; and the man howled under the infliction.</p><p style='text-align: justify;'>Early in 1862, however, symptoms of dissatisfaction and unfriendliness showed themselves amongst the forces in the city. The chiefs had hopes by seizing a port to control the Customs. But foreigners demurred to paying custom at all under this nondescript regime, and native trade there was none. The chiefs had promised to restrain their soldiers from molesting the Settlement. Little bands of them crossed, however, from time to time for bartering and for amusement, and they were treated with unnecessary roughness and even violence. On the 13th January, the Admiral arrived, and a salute being fired as the Consul boarded his ship, the T'ai-p'ings were greatly alarmed and excited, one result of which was stone-throwing of which I was nearly the victim. Earlier than this as we learnt from a man who spent four months in the city, the rebels were terribly frightened by the minute guns which were fired when the news of the Prince Consort's death arrived;</p><p style='text-align: justify;'>"The shadow of whose loss drew like eclipse<br /> Darkening the world."</p><p style='text-align: justify;'>This was the winter of the great snow storm, which the Ningpo people say is always the phenomenon coming in the wake of big ships of war; a similar storm having fallen when the English seized and occupied Ningpo in 1843. It was intensely cold, the thermometer standing at only 13 degrees above zero in our bed room with a fire burning at night. The severity of the winter had one good effect, however; it kept the T'ai-p'ings quiet for time. In February the rumour spread that the country people, exasperated by the oppression of the rebels, were gathering in the hills. One of their chief rendezvous was the fine plateau of T'a-lan-san - of which we then heard for the first time - and which some 12 years later, after two or three unsuccessful attempts, my friend Dr. Barchet, and I were the first foreigners to explore; a fact which those who have enjoyed or shall in future enjoy the air and scenery of those fine hills, will I hope kindly to bear in mind. These native levies, the Bah-mao, or White Caps, were terribly cut up from time to time by the rebels. Some of the women in those regions described to us afterwards the horrors of that time. Again and again they had to roll themselves down precipitous hill sides, with their children in their arms to escape from their savage pursuers. Once however, and that before the roar of English guns was heard, these poor White Caps triumphed savagely over their hated foes. There is a pass in the Western Hills, up which I have often toiled in spring-time, the stillness broken only by the sweet notes of the cuckoo, or the tinkling flow of the mountain stream, or the woodman's axe on the bamboos far up the hill side, or the creaking turn of the water wheel in the rice flats further down. This pass, and the great curves of lofty hills which sweep round and prevent the possibility of turning it, rang once with shouts and groans, and the stone path was red with blood. Our old friend "Little Looking Glass" was advancing with the intention of penetrating into the rich valleys at the rear of this pass. The White Caps assembled in force; and as the T'ai-p'ing line wound round the zig-zag path which climbs the pass, they rolled down great rocks, and pelted them with stones from the summit. The rebel fire-arms were of little use - since the White Caps had shelter from walls and rocks. The battle raged for some time, but at last 300 of their number having been crushed and killed by the stones, the rest broke and fled, Little Looking Glass himself narrowly escaping with his life. Strangely does history often repeat itself, for a similar exploit is described in Southey's "Roderick," when the Moorish host strove to force the Vale of Covadonga.</p><p style='text-align: justify;'>"Forthwith<br /> On either side, along the whole defile,<br /> The Asturians shouting in the name of God <br /> Set the whole ruin loose! Huge trunks and stones<br /> And loosened crags, down, down they rolled, with rush<br /> And bound and thundering force.<br /> From end to end of that long strait the crash<br /> Was heard continuous, and commixt with sounds<br /> More dreadful - shrieks of horror, and despair,<br /> And death - the wild and agonizing cry<br /> Of that whole host in one destruction whelmed.<br /> Echo prolonged<br /> The long uproar; a silence then ensued,<br /> Through which the sound of Deva's stream was heard,<br /> A lonely voice of waters wild and sweet."</p><p style='text-align: justify;'>Something similar occurred, though in this case, so says Herodotus, through supernatural agency, when the Persians, during Xerxes' invasion of Greece, made an unsuccessful attack on Delphi.</p><p style='text-align: justify;'>"Little Looking Glass" soon returned with a strong body from Ningpo and his vengeance was savagely complete. A town of 10,000 people, where we have now a Mission Station, was entirely destroyed; and the whole of the long, lovely valley, bowery with mulberry gardens, was blackened by fire, and the precious tress were lopped or ruthlessly cut down.</p><p style='text-align: justify;'>But the time of deliverance was drawing on. The T'ai-p'ings daily committed acts of impudence or violence at Ningpo. They pelted the foreign houses under the city wall. They fired random shots over the gunboats at anchor; and some bullets actually entered a Mission school-room on the North Bank just at this time I was told off to accompany Mr. Burdon with a cargo of rice sent by Bishop Smith from friends in Hongkong for the relief of our Christians in the country. We had a rough time of it; being pelted twice with stones by the T'ai-p'ings at the barriers; but we accomplished our enterprise without serious mishap. We found that great and populous plain groaning under the yoke of the oppressor. While I was sketching on a hill behind our Mission Station, some of the people came up and began to talk. The T'ai-p'ings they said were taxing them in an exorbitant manner - 7 cash a day for a youth, 10 for an adult; and off with your head and down with your house in the flames if you don't pay. The T'ai-p'ings, added our friends in an undertone, can never establish a Dynasty, or pacify the Empire; only you English can do that!</p><p style='text-align: justify;'>This glorious plain was fearfully ravaged further on, when the rebels were exasperated by their defeats and by native risings. But as we returned through the soft sunshine of the spring afternoon, I shall never forget my surprise at the cheerful and well nigh merry call of a poor countryman ploughing his fields, unmoved as it seemed by the desolation around him, or fear of coming evil.</p><p style='text-align: justify;'>After our return to the city, affairs rapidly approached a crisis. Fighting was going on constantly round Shanghai. The French Admiral Protet was killed, and the English Admiral wounded. The T'ai-p'ings in Ningpo now daily expected an attack; and were said to be tying up their valuables in bundles for flight. On April 23rd, Fan, the second in command, returned from Nanking in great triumph. He had gone thither to report the fall of Ningpo; and he returned with the title of King for himself and his colleague. The tide was rushing fast with the ebb; and the sight of a hundred and more gaily decked boats sweeping past us, with the rebel garrison turned out at the East Gate to welcome their King, was striking and ominous. Loud salutes were fired. We saw the little French gunboat <i>Etoile</i> in commotion. Her big gun was run out and loaded. Had she fired, it might have been the death knell of foreigners on the Settlement side, and of the crowds of Chinese refugees. No wonder the Frenchman was excited. The T'ai-p'ing salute was fired with ball cartridge; 3 Chinese were killed by the volley, and 25 bullets passed they said over the <i>Etoile</i>. But evening fell; the jubilant T'ai-p'ings withdrew inside the city; and the crisis for the time passed by. The next day I went into the city with my brother and Mr. Rankin to visit our houses; no harm befell us; but I was heartily thankful to be safely out again.</p><p style='text-align: justify;'>On the 26th the <i>Encounter</i>, corvette, and the gunboat <i>Hardy</i> steamed in; the former with Capt. Roderick Dew onboard, the bearer of an ultimatum from Admiral Hope, and an offer of terms for the T'ai-p'ings. A fort of formidable dimensions and well armed had been built at the East Gate commanding the shipping and the Settlement; and the N.E. wall facing the peninsula on which the Settlement stands was also strongly armed. On the 29th Capt. Dew communicated with the T'ai-p'ings; ordering them to dismantle the fort and the N.E. and guaranteeing them on this condition peaceable possession of the city and safety from the menaced attack of the Imperialist pirates or piratical Imperialists commanded by Ah-pack. I believe the offer was <i>bonâ fide</i>. I well remember the gallant captain calling on us this very day. He came to beg the ladies not to be alarmed should they hear big guns at 2 a.m. "I have offered them fair terms" he said; "and they will be very foolish if they don't accept them." Fan rejected the terms with scorn. "Come on"; he said, "you Dew, and see which is cock and which is hen." And the captain came on. The T'ai-p'ing leaders claimed the North Bank as belonging to the Heavenly Dynasty. They would no longer tolerate our claim to the Settlement. A price of $100 was set on every foreigner's head. All foreign residents on the South bank were now ordered over the river. The ships took up their positions. The <i>Encounter</i> moored off the Salt Gate, the <i>Ringdove</i> off the North Gate, and the gunboats <i>Kestrel</i> and <i>Hardy</i>, the French <i>Etoile</i>, and the Chinese <i>Confucius</i> manned by Malays, were under steam. Boats with muffled oars patrolled the river at night for fear of a sudden crossing of the T'ai-p'ings to attack the Settlement. We had a boat moored near our house, and were prepared to move the ladies and children at a moment's notice, the oar being in our keeping lest the boatman should fly. We kept the night watches in turn. I watched that night from 1 to 3 a.m. Suddenly I saw a bright light near the East-gate. It died away again. After a while I heard - yes I could not be mistaken, - the swelling shout on the night wind of the rebels advancing as we feared they might do from the sea board on the settlement. I listened once more before I gave the alarm. It was only the frogs in the paddy field in full cry! My watch was relieved at 3 a.m. - and at 4, we were all called up to see what looked like a signal rocket in the sky. Again our anxiety was relieved. It was the morning star, brilliantly shining through a broad rift in the flying clouds.</p><p style='text-align: justify;'>On May 1st all the merchantmen were ordered 2 miles down the river out of range of the fort and for fear of fire rafts. On the 2nd the T'ai-p'ings seemed disposed to come to terms - they would brick up the embrasures in the fort; but they would not dismount the guns. On the 5th all the old hands were said to be leaving; the press gangs remaining as food for the foreign powder. On the 8th news was secretly sent by a friendly rebel chief to a family still lingering on the south bank, to leave, as an attack was planned for that night. The Imperialist Taotai, who was creeping up the river under the shelter of the English ships, announced a counter attack for 3 a.m. - Capt. Dew would join in, if he was fired upon; and this was more than likely from the position of his squadron. We watched from 3 to 4 but all quiet. At length the final resolve was made to attack at 5 a.m. on the 10th. I rose at 4 a.m. and watched. The Cantonese war junks were slowly moving up with the tide. They slacken and anchor. No attack up to 9 a.m. The junks are moving again; again they anchor under the bows of the <i>Confucius</i>. Mr. Hewlett, interpeter at the Consulate, goes down in a gig, and by threats and persuasion and personal exertion, compels them to advance. At 9.30 the fort opened with desultory fire. At 9.50 sharp ringing musket shots from the crowded battlements over the Salt Gate were heard. They were aimed at the Encounter - and in an instant her broadside of 9 guns was fired. The <i>Ringdove</i> at the North Gate joined in with the roar of her big guns; and the gunboats engaged the fort. The bombardment went on for 2 hours without intermission. The T'ai-p'ings fought stubbornly and well. A gun nearly opposite our house was three times knocked over by the <i>Encounter</i>'s fire, and thrice remounted. A lad was seen waving a red flag by the gun till he sunk down dead through the embrasure. Some of the balls from this gun flew over our house, and others pitched splashing and spurting in the paddy fields close by. At 1.30 the English ships all moved up near our house and concentrated their fire on the Salt Gate where the rebels were in full force. A storming party now occupied Dr. Parker's house just under the wall; and from the turret of this house the marines tried to clear the wall. Two of them fell soon, badly wounded. A field piece was landed and, directed by Lieutenant Tinling, knocked over the brick battlements. At 3 p.m. Capt. Dew led the storming party and was first on the wall. His Lieutenants Cornwall Lewis and Hugh Davis were behind him; and Lewis was instantly shot dead. Lieut. Davis described to me next day the scene. They were literally shoulder to shoulder and touching one another, and he felt the shock and shudder in his comrade's body as he was struck and fell. The little party, some 40 or 50 strong, gained a footing, and the rebels fell back. It was a perilous position. The <i>Ringdove</i> had stormed the North Gate with a still smaller body - and all told scarcely 100 men were opposed to the garrison 20,000 strong. We watched. From the East Gate a dense column was seen advancing to overwhelm Capt. Dew and his little band; and from behind the crowds of graves below the wall inside as we heard afterwards the rebel sharp shooters were firing hotly. The <i>Encounter</i> was nearly deserted so as to provide a strong storming party; the cooks and stewards however worked the big gun somehow and sent a shell between the rebel column and Capt. Dew, and the rebels wavered, broke, and fled. But as the Captain told me afterwards, he thought for the moment that all was lost. Meanwhile the Imperialist soldiers on the North Bank hung back, and they had to be actually forced by foreigners into the boats before they would cross and occupy the city gates now opened for them by the English. But now the <i>Kestrel</i>, by a bold skilful manoeuvre, gained the day. She had 68 shot in her hull alone; and her rigging was severely cut about, but she fought on; and seeing the obstinate resistance, she steamed up the south branch of the river, and being stopped by the chained bridge of boats, her boatswain with his men landed under a heavy fire, filed through links of the chain, let the bridge swing free, she steamed on, and from the South angle of the city rapidly shelled the West Gate, the only available line of retreat for the T'ai-p'ings. Then the host broke and cried and fled in wild confusion. It was now dusk. Would they rally, and turn back, and reoccupy the scarce held city? The Cantonese garrison was unreliable, the English party wearied with the fight. The French captain was mortally wounded. The city was on fire in many places; and that night passed, I can assure you, darkly and doubtfully for us. But, thank God, it passed in safety. The next day was Sunday, and going on board the <i>Kestrel</i> as usual for service, I found her under weigh, having orders to steam up the river and ascertain the whereabouts of the T'ai-p'ing army. She returned at night; having found that the host flying headlong to the Great Western sluice and ferry, 10 miles from Ningpo, had struggled and fought for the boats, fearing the gunboats coming in pursuit. Many were drowned; and the rest had taken refugee in Tsz-ch'i. Our home in the city lay just in the line of the <i>Encounter</i>'s guns trained for the parade ground, a great rendezvous of the garrison. It was shot through from end to end. Two old men who were in charge, hearing the roar of the cannonade and the crash, rushed to the yard behind and took refuge curled up in water jars by our school house. Bang went the <i>Encounter</i>'s guns again, and a second round shot crashed through the school house over their heads. These two balls lie still as an ornament at our front door.</p><p style='text-align: justify;'>The T'ai-p'ings hung hovering round the city for many weeks; burning and sacking Tsz-ch'i, and, after a desparate fight with the men of the plain, ravaging San-po. On May 26th we returned to our city home and began our work again. Gradually the enemy were driven back, and kept in check all the summer at Yü-yao, 30 miles up the river. That important city fell on August 4th. But suddenly on September 18th we were startled by the news that they had swept down again, had retaken Tsz-ch'i, evacuated it, and were marching on the Settlement.</p><p style='text-align: justify;'>On the 19th Tsong-gyiao, a large market town only five miles off, was burnt - our catechist and Christians there escaping with the utmost difficulty to Ningpo. Now the city gates were fast shut again. The country round was alive with the smoke of burning villages. The <i>Encounter</i> moved up to the North Gate to sweep with her guns the approaches to the West Gate which the T'ai-p'ings were threatening. I called on board; and while I was speaking to the officers, Captain Dew came on deck talking eagerly to the well known Gen. Ward, the trainer and brave leader of the first bands of Chinese drilled troops in this neighbourhood. The two chiefs had just arranged the plan of attack for the next day, and Gen. Ward pointed scornfully northwards where almost under our very eyes the marauders were rioting with bloodshed and burning. The General was small, wiry, with long moustache, and with an eager, restless manner. Only two days later he was mortally wounded under the walls of Tsz-ch'i.</p><p style='text-align: justify;'>On the 20th 100,000 men were reported to have forced the southern passes and to be marching on Ningpo. Some of our Christian converts in the south described to us afterwards that march. They were hiding up to their necks in water amongst the rushes in the canal, for three days, and heard the host go by in the neighbouring streets, and the tramp did not cease for 16 hours. On the 23rd my eldest son was born, in the heart of Ningpo. The parade ground in front of our house was filled with recruits being hastily drilled, the city was beleaguered by a great host, and crowds of T'ai-p'ings were reported as in the city under disguise, watching to overpower the feeble guards at the gates. On the 24th the rebels were seen in the suburbs of Ningpo. A terrible panic set in. Capt. Dew then ordered Lieut. Tinling to land 70 men-of-war's men, and the cheerful and gallant Lieut. spent his afternoon in marching and countermarching this little band all about the city, till the bewildered and delighted citizens believing a strong British army to have come to their relief, quieted down and dismissed their fears. These few days of suspense were terrible ones for the country people. Some years later I was itinerating in the hills 10 miles from Ningpo. It was a lovely April afternoon; and the lower slopes of the hills were red with azeleas. I pointed them out to my Chinese companion, "Ah!" he said, "do you see that hill? When the T'ai-p'ings made their last attack on Ningpo, the people here offended them in some way; they attacked the town, all fled to the hills, and there on that hill side I saw myself dead men, women, and children lying as thick as the flowers to-day."</p><p style='text-align: justify;'>On October 8th Captain Dew, with reinforcements from Shanghai, started to attack Fung-hwa, the headquarters and stronghold of this new rebel invading host. Two sharp encounters took place, one in the open field. Lieuts. Rawson and Bosanquet were both wounded, and 23 of our men hurt, three or four dying of their wounds. The T'ai-p'ings then abandoned the city in the night and retreated beyond the hills. They had several foreigners with them, and some of the marines described to me the arrival of these foreign leaders in sedan chairs on the field of battle, and the nimble way in which they decamped when the chairs were fired upon. Noakes, a fine young fellow in command of a company of the green caps (about this time under Col. Cook with Major Watson second in command), was killed in this fight; and was found dead with a smile on his face. It has often struck me that the courage shown in such doubtful warfare, not <i>pro aris et focis</i>, but simply in obedience to order, is worthy of more notice and recognition than it generally obtains.</p><p style='text-align: justify;'>"How sleep the brave they sink to rest<br /> By all their country's wishes blest."</p><p style='text-align: justify;'>But these brave fellows often fall and are buried unhonoured, unsung!</p><p style='text-align: justify;'>On the 23rd M. le Breton arrived with authority from Prince Kung to raise under French auspices a force like the Wardites now numbering 2,000 men. He was killed soon after by the bursting of one of his own siege guns before Shaoshing. This French force did good service in following up the T'ai-p'ings and eventually driving them out of Hangchow; but they had much hard fighting and were twice beaten back. These were rough days indeed. On November 4th I met Lieut. Tinling near our Mission house in the city. He was walking along quietly meaning to call on us. "Have you heard the news?" he said. "No," I replied, "What news?" "Haven't you heard the row, then?" "No," I said. He then told me that that day at noon the Taotai met some of the green caps (the Wardite trained troops) in the street. He thought that they insulted him, or did not pay him due respect. So he stopped his chair; arrested two of them and had them cruelly beaten. Whereupon the force mutinied, attacked and looted the yamen, and the Taotai fled. Capt. Dew at once landed his men with two field pieces, hunted out the Taotai who was hiding in bed in some ignominious hovel, reinstated him, tried by court martial seven green caps caught in the act of looting, and two were executed on the spot by a file of soldiers, only three or four hundred yards from our house.</p><p style='text-align: justify;'>Through the whole of this month we were disturbed by rumours of T'ai-p'ing advances and retreats. Fung-hwa, Yü-yao and Kwun-hai-we in San-po were all threatened or actually assaulted, but at length Shang-yü, a hien city 15 miles W. of Yü-yao fell, and the T'ai-p'ings retired behind the Dzao-ngo river on Shaoshing. At this time the Ningpo Settlement was completely insulated by the cutting of a canal, through the narrow strip which forms the neck of the bottle-shaped peninsula, thus joining the two great curves of the river Yung; and this canal was defended by two small forts armed with guns from the fleet. It proved not only a valuable defensive work, but added not a little, I believe, to the salubrity of the settlement. Five years later, however, the authorities at Ningpo, with really childish weakness and insane ingratitude, yielded to the representations of the idle opium smoking scholars of Tze-ch'i. These gentry disgraced themselves at the triennial examinations in Hangchow. Something had affected the luck of the city. What was it? Why, of course, the opening of a new mouth to the East by the barbarians. It must be closed; and the countrymen clamouring with more reason that the salt-water was forced by this canal much higher up the river than before to the injury of their crops, the fate of the ditch was sealed and it was stopped up. The foolish and feeble Taotai, was staggered for the moment by the sarcastic argument of H.M.'s Consul, "You see, your Excellency, if the water does go up the country by one tide it will come down again by the ebb."</p><p style='text-align: justify;'>In January 1863 Shaou-shing was marched against. This city lies seventy miles beyond the red-tape measured 30 mile radius. Such a limit for peace may do very well in the featureless flat round Shanghai; but in the noble regions of Chehkiang, with rivers and mountain chains, nature and not Downing-street must fix the limits for defence; and it was with the true instinct of a general that Capt. Dew resolved to pass beyond the 30 miles and support the French in hemming the T'ai-p'ings into Shaou-shing; knowing well that if they broke out of that city, the whole country down to Ningpo would lie again at their mercy. The captain succeeded in his design; but with lamentable loss; for Lieut. Tinling who volunteered to accompany his chief, met his death wound under the walls of Shaoushing, and the early fall of this most admirable officer and warmhearted friend cast a gloom over us all. These lines are on his tombstone at Ningpo:</p><p style='text-align: justify;'>God led him to his long repose, -<br /> His glorious rest.<br /> And though the warrior's sun has set,<br /> The light shall linger round us yet<br /> Bright, radiant, blest.</p><p style='text-align: justify;'>On the 15th of March Shaoushing fell. The T'ai-p'ings retired beyond the Tsien-tang and held out in Hangchow for nearly 12 months. At length they abandoned it in the night, and the war cloud cleared and passed away from the desolated and more than decimated province of Chehkiang.</p><p style='text-align: justify;'>My personal recollections close here, and I will trouble you further only with a few brief observations on the subjects for question and debate which my narrative may have raised in your minds.</p><p style='text-align: justify;'>1. A profound impression of the horrors of war, and especially of civil strife, must I think remain on our minds after this narrative. I have described feebly and imperfectly what came under my own eye, for the most part, in one small district only of the vast stretch of country ravaged by the T'ai-p'ings. They behaved, it is believed, better at Ningpo than elsewhere; yet disorder, misery, unrest, came in their train to the City of the Peaceful Wave. The Imperialists even exceeded the T'ai-p'ings in savage and murderous vengeance, though in their train of course travelled the prestige of the governing power, and the hope of settled rule. But imagine the excruciating anxieties of the poor people through these three years. The T'ai-p'ings fighting professedly only with imps and idols, massacred ruthlessly the people also if they made any show of resistance, or refused to abandon the tail and the tonsure. A reverse took place, the Imperialists advanced, and they with ruthless and cowardly vengeance, massacred all found with unshaven heads, and who were known to have submitted, however unwillingly, to the T'ai-p'ings. A yearly festival is held in Tsz-ch'i for the repose of the souls of 600 or 700 citizens who fell there in 1862, when having loyally and joyfully shaved their heads as the T'ai-p'ings retired, they were caught by the rallying and victorious enemy before their hair could grow and were all slain. No wonder that in these awful days suicide abounded. I have seen myself many ponds in Sanpo which had been filled not long before with the bodies of women who had flung themselves in and drowned themselves as the only hope of escape. In Hangchow from 50,000 to 70,000 are said to have perished in one week; and a large number of these by suicide. God in his mercy ward off from China the horrors of foreign war and consequent internal revolution.</p><p style='text-align: justify;'>2. Does the narrative of the great rebellion throw any light on the ill-disguised opposition to Christianity manifested by Chinese officials, and by the literary class generally? Such opposition is undoubtedly more political than theological, and political from the double motive - first of the old exclusive Chinese spirit, distrusting all intruders from the outer world; and secondly from the suspicion that Missionary pioneers are in truth the scouts of some foreign army, working by secret conspiracy, and leading those who join the standard of the cross to range themselves in some way as antagonistic to the reigning dynasty. I need not waste time now in denouncing such ideas as absolutely mistaken. Christianity, under a political regime, the most galling and oppressive, was explicitly loyal to the powers that be; and all preachers loyal to Christianity will ever emphasize the great words of St. Paul "Custom to whom custom is due, fear to whom fear, honour to whom honour. Fear God, honour the King." Christianity is concerned with a Spiritual Kingdom not of this world. It is not indifferent indeed to the changes and chances of this mortal life. "Christianity," says Mozley, "gave room for national feeling, for patriotism, for that common bond which a common history creates, for loyalty, for pride in the grandeur of the nation's traditions, for joy in success." Yet it can afford to abjure all carnal weapons in its conquering march. "In its own world indeed war would be impossible, but it is no part of the mission of Christianity to reconstruct the order of the world.</p><p style='text-align: justify;'>Calm as the ray of sun or star<br /> Which storms assail in vain <br /> Moving unruffled through Earth's war<br /> The Eternal calm to gain.</p><p style='text-align: justify;'>All this is true in the ideal, and Christianity as such is responsible only for the ideal. But it is none the less the fact that the gigantic T'ai-p'ing movement began under a Christian profession. And it does not surprise us to find Sanko-lin-sin in 1858, and the Governor of Kiangsi in 1860, memorialising against Christianity and placarding it as revolutionary and in league with the rebels.</p><p style='text-align: justify;'>On this account one could not but welcome the roar of English guns on May 10th, 1862 (that death knell of the rebellion with all due recognition of the great exploits of Col. Gordon and his Chinese colleagues the great Tso and Li). It afforded a complete answer to the sneer, "you Christians are in league with our oppressors, the destroyers of the dynasty, yet with no reconstructive power of their own." Strange if so, we replied, that Christian powers should have driven out their brethren and allies by force of arms. Nevertheless we should deal gently I think with governmental inertness and official reserve and literary opposition which meet us and hinder us continually in our Christian work.</p><p style='text-align: justify;'>3. In judging aright the action of Western powers during this period which I have been reviewing we must not with too blatant a voice nor by too stiff rules of international morality, condemn or criticize. The amazing congeries of tergiversations exhibited by great and even grand statesmen of recent years, responsible acts utterly belying and contradicting irresponsible utterances, may well warn us against too confident condemnation without due weighing of circumstances, and even without personal contact with such circumstances. It seems to be often forgotten when discussing the subject that the English had a very strong temptation, if in an ungenerous mood, quite apart from the Christian phase of the rebellion, to take sides with the T'ai-p'ings. Sir F. Bruce going northwards to ratify the Treaty of Tientsin was opposed and badly repulsed at the Taku forts in 1859. Suppose now in revenge we had placed Shanghai with all due restriction, and Ningpo, in the hands of the T'ai-p'ings with an ample market for arms and ammunition. Suppose Col. Gordon had changed sides; suppose the Ever-Victorious Army still under foreign lead and sanction had turned T'ai-p'ing; we could have overthrown the dynasty with ease, and have dictated our own terms to the usurper. I cannot but accuse the Imperialist power, therefore, of amazing oblivion if not of deliberate ingratitude, in the alacrity with which they ignored the enormous debt they owned to such men as Admirals Hope and Protet, Col. Gordon and Capt. Dew. Instead of showing gratitude, they seem to have issued a secret decree empowering the people of China, notably within the walls of Shanghai, to help them in taking a childish revenge for T'ai-p'ing obloquy by incessantly calling foreigners by the bad names the T'ai-p'ings applied to the Manchoos. Certainly the powers that be in China have given scant inducement to Western powers to offer again the assistance they gave 20 years ago, should rebellion threaten the Manchoo dynasty.</p><p style='text-align: justify;'>So far as I have been able to understand it, I cannot but think that the policy pursued by our leaders here and at Ningpo during those days of confusion and anarchy, was the only possible one, the only honourable one under the circumstances. The following seems to me a very possible justification of that policy, though never, so far as I am aware, officially put forward as such. There was a distinct desire and resolve to maintain as far as possible neutrality and even-handedness in the internecine struggle. It was hard to say which side would conquer, though the T'ai-p'ings seemed distinctly to be getting the upper hand. Still they had shown no capacity for settled rule, and how was the opportunity to be afforded them for exhibiting such capacity? We had treaty rights and territorial privileges conceded to us by the Imperialist power; and though our Treaty with the ruling dynasty was not offensive and defensive, it was one of amity, and it struck the balance to some extent in their favour. At any rate it was out of the question to experiment here in Shanghai. This great and wealthy and wide-stretching settlement could not possibly be exposed to the curiosity and rapacity of the T'ai-p'ings without full proof of their power of control. But might not an opportunity be afforded at Ningpo for such an experiment? The Settlement there, if a model one, is yet but on the size of a model. The T'ai-p'ings might be warned not to molest the little place; and meanwhile their capacities for rule might be watched therefrom during their occupation of the City of Ningpo and the country round; and should the report be favourable, and their power gain the upper hand generally, then the question of Shanghai might be reconsidered. But the experiment failed, as with such conflicting interests, and such incongruous elements, it was bound to fail. Yet, as it appears to me, it was honestly made, and worth the making. The situation was not unlike that in Egypt a year and a half ago. Foreigners had definite semi-territorial rights, and an enormous property stake, and there arose the Jingo cry of British interests which by some magic power sways Liberals and Tories alike when the crisis comes, and they were constrained, however unwillingly, to take sides. Possibly in the case of any future rebellion, the simplest plan, I do not vouch for its legality, will be to hold by force of arms against all comers, the settlements and concessions granted to foreigners.</p><p style='text-align: justify;'>One word more and I have done. In the year 1867, five years after the expulsion of the T'ai-p'ings from Ningpo, a long drought parched the land. The small lakes within the walls near the South Gate were dried up; and one Sunday afternoon some boys paddling in the mud struck their feet against one of the <i>Encounter</i>'s shells which had lain there under water since the bombardment. They rolled it out, and a man lifting it in his hands let it fall on the pavement. It exploded and killed seven persons in a moment. I well remember seeing them carried on stretchers to the hospital. A striking picture this afforded of the hidden seeds which war sows for future trouble.</p>
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