Hills of Han 15

Hills of Han 15

She shivered and stirred. This brooding wouldn’t do.

 

She got out a pad of paper and a pencil, and sitting there in the dim

light, sketched with deft fingers the roofs and trees of T’ainan, as

they appeared in the moonlight of spring, with a great faint gate tower

bulking high above a battlemented wall. Until far into the morning she

drew, forgetful of the hours, finding a degree of melancholy pleasure in

the exercise of the expressive faculty that had become second nature to

her.

 

She slept, then, like a child, until mid-forenoon. It was nearly eleven

o’clock when she hurried, ready to smile quickly to cover her confusion,

down to the dining-room.

 

The breakfast things had been cleared away more than two hours earlier.

The table boy (so said the cook) had gone to market. She ate, rather

shamefaced, a little bread and butter (she was finding it difficult to

get used to this tinned butter from New Zealand).

 

In the parlor Mrs. Boatwright sat at her desk. She heard Betty at the

door, lifted her head for a cool bow, then resumed her work. Not a word

did she speak or invite. There was an apology trembling on the tip of

Betty’s tongue, but she had to hold it back and turn away.

 

3

 

The day after the suicide of Li Hsien rumors began to drift into the

compound. News travels swiftly in China. The table “boy” (a man of

fifty-odd) brought interesting bits from the market, always a center

for gossip of the city and the mid-provincial region about it. The old

gate-keeper, Sun Shao-i, picked up much of the roadside talk. And the

several other men helpers about the compound each contributed his

bit. The act of the fanatical student had, at the start, as Doane

anticipated, an electrical effect on public sentiment. Suicide is by no

means generally regarded in China as a sign of failure. It is employed,

at times of great stress, as a form of deliberate protest; and is then

taken as heroism.

 

So reports came that the always existent hatred of foreigners was

rising, and might get out of control. A French priest was murdered on

the Kalgan highway, after protracted torture during which his eyes and

tongue were fed to village dogs. This, doubtless, as retaliation for

similar practises commonly attributed to the white missionaries. The

fact that the local Shen magistrate promptly caught and beheaded a few

of the ringleaders appeared to have small deterrent effect on public

feeling.

 

Detachments of strange-appearing soldiers, wearing curious insignia,

were marching into the province over the Western Mountains. A native

worker at one of the mission outposts wrote that they broke into his

compound and robbed him of food, but made little further trouble.

 

Reports bearing on the activities of the new Great Eye Society--already

known along the wayside as “The Lookers”--were coming in daily. The

Lookers were initiating many young men into their strange magic, which

appeared to differ from the incantations of the Boxers of 1900 more in

detail than in spirit.

 

And in the western, villages this element was welcoming the new

soldiers.

 

Here in T’ainan disorder was increasing. An old native, helper of Dr.

Cassin in the dispensary, was mobbed on the street and given a beating

during which his arm was broken. He managed to walk to the compound, and

was now about with the arm in a sling, working quietly as usual. But it

was evident that native Christians must, as usual in times of trouble,

suffer for their faith.

 

On the following afternoon the tao-tai called, in state, with bearers,

runners, soldiers and secretaries. The main courtyard of the compound

was filled with the richly colored chairs and the silks and satins and

plumed ceremonial hats of his entourage. For more than an hour he

was closeted with Griggsby Doane, while the Chinese schoolgirls, very

demure, stole glances from curtained windows at the beautiful young men

in the courtyard.

 

By this impressive visit, and by his long stay, Chang Chih Ting clearly

meant to impress on the whole city his friendship for these foreign

devils. For the whole city would know of it within an hour; all middle

Hansi would know by nightfall.

 

He brought disturbing news. It had been obvious to Doane that the

menacing new society could hardly spread and thrive without some sort

of secret official backing. He was inclined to trust Chang. He believed,

after days of balancing the subtle pros and cons in his mind, that

Pao Ting Chuan would keep order. And he knew that the official who was

responsible for the province--as Pao virtually was--could keep order if

he chose.

 

Chang, always naively open with Doane, supported him in this view. But

it was strongly rumored at the tao-tai’s yamen that the treasurer, Kang

Hsu, old as he was, weakened by opium, for the past two or three

years an inconsiderable figure in the province, had lately been in

correspondence with the Western soldiers. And officers from his yamen

had been recognized as among the drill masters of the Looker bands.

Chang had reported these proceedings to His Excellency, he said (“His

Excellency,” during this period, meant always Pao, though Kang Hsu, as

treasurer, ranked him) and had been graciously thanked. It was also said

that Kang had cured himself of opium smoking by locking himself in a

room and throwing pipe, rods, lamp and all his supply of the drug out of

a window. For two weeks he had suffered painfully, and had nearly died

of a diarrhea; but now had recovered and was even gaining in weight,

though still a skeleton.

 

Doane caught himself shaking his head, with Chang, over this remarkable

self-cure. It would apparently be better for the whites were Kang to

resume his evil ways. It was clear to these deeply experienced men that

Kang’s motives would be mixed. Doubtless he had been stirred to jealousy

by Pao. It seemed unlikely that he, or any prominent mandarin, could

afford to run the great risks involved in setting the province afire

so soon after 1900. Perhaps he knew a way to lay the fresh troubles at

Pao’s gate. Or perhaps he had come to believe, with his befuddled old

brain, in the Looker incantations. Only seven years earlier the belief

of ruling Manchus in Boxer magic had led to the siege of the legations

and something near the ruin of China. Come to think of it, Kang, unlike

Pao and Chang, was a Manchu.

 

Chang also brought with him a copy of the Memorial left by Li Hsien,

which it appeared was being widely circulated in the province. The

document gave an interesting picture of the young man’s complicated

mind. His death had been theatrical and, in manner, Western, modern.

Suicides of protest were traditionally managed in private. But

the memorial was utterly Chinese, written with all the customary

indirection, dwelling on his devotion to his parents and his native

land, as on his own worthlessness; quoting apt phrases from Confucius,

Mencius and Tseng Tzu; quite, indeed, in the best traditional manner.

And he left a letter to his elder brother, couched in language humble

and tender, giving exact directions for his funeral, down to the

arrangement of his clothing and the precise amount to be paid to the

Taoist priest, together with instructions as to the disposition of

his small personal estate. Doane pointed out that these documents

were designed to impress on the gentry his loyal conformity to ancient

tradition, while his motives were revolutionary and his final act

was designed to excite the mob at the fair and folk of their class

throughout the province. Chang believed he had scholarly help in

preparing the documents. And both men felt it of sober significance

that the memorial was addressed to “His Excellency, Kang Hsu, Provincial

Treasurer.”

 

That Li Hsien’s inflammatory denunciation of “the foreign engineer at

Ping Yang” had an almost immediate effect was indicated by the news

from that village at the railhead. M. Puurmont wrote, in French, that

an Australian stake-boy had been shot through the lungs while helping an

instrument man in the hills. He was alive, but barely so, at the time

of writing. As a result of this and certain lesser difficulties, M.

Pourmont was calling in his engineers and mine employees, and putting

them to work improvising a fort about his compound, and had telegraphed

Peking for a large shipment of tinned food. He added that there would

be plenty of room in case Doane later should decide to gather in his

outpost workers and fall back toward the railroad.

 

Doane translated this letter into Chinese for Chang’s benefit.

 

“Has he firearms?” asked the tao-tai.

 

Doane inclined his head. “More than the treaty permits,” he replied. “He

told me last winter that he thought it necessary.”

 

“It is as well,” said Chang. “Though it is not necessary for you to

leave yet. To do that would be to invite misunderstanding.”

 

“It would invite attack,” said Doane.

 

It was on the morning after Chang’s call that the telegram came from Jen

Ling Pu. Doane was crossing the courtyard when he heard voices in

the gate house; then Sun Shao-i came down the steps and gave him the

message. He at once sent a chit to Pao, writing it in pencil against

a wall; then ordered a cart brought around. Within an hour the boy

was back. Pao had written on the margin of the note: “Will see you

immediately.”

 

For once the great mandarin did not keep him waiting. The two inner

gates of the yamen opened for him one after the other, and his cart

was driven across the tiled inner court to the yamen porch. It was an

unheard-of honor. Plainly, Pao, like the lesser Chang, purposed standing

by his guns, and meant that the city should know. By way of emphasis,

Pao himself, tall, stately, magnificent in his richly embroidered robe,

the peacock emblem of a civil mandarin of the third-class embroidered

on the breast, the girdle clasp of worked gold, wearing the round hat of

office crowned with a large round ruby--Pao, deep and musical of voice,

met him in the shadowy porch and conducted him to the reception room.

Instantly the tea appeared, and they could talk.

 

“Your Excellency,” said Doane, “a Christian worker in So T’ung, one Jen

Ling Pu, telegraphs me that strange soldiers, helped by members of the

Great Eye Society, last night attacked his compound. They have burned

the gate house, but have no firearms. At eight this morning, with the

aid of the engineer for the Ho Shan Company in that region, and with

only two revolvers, he was defending the compound. I am going there. I

will leave this noon.”