Indiscreet Letters From Peking: Being the Notes of an Eye-Witness, Which Set Forth in Some Detail, from Day to Day, the Real Story of the Siege and Sack of a Distressed Capital in 1900—The Year of Great Tribulation
History
Indiscreet Letters From Peking: Being the Notes of an Eye-Witness, Which Set Forth in Some Detail, from Day to Day, the Real Story of the Siege and Sack of a Distressed Capital in 1900—The Year of Great Tribulation
Beijing (China) -- History -- Siege, 1900 -- Personal narratives; Putnam Weale, B. L. (Bertram Lenox), 1877-1930 -- Correspondence
The native children, with hunger gnawing savagely at their stomachs,
wander about stripping the trees of their leaves until half Prince
Su's grounds have leafless branches. Some of the mothers have taken
all the clothes off their children on account of the heat, and their
terrible water-swollen stomachs and the pitiful sticks of legs
eloquently tell their own tale. Unable to find food, all are drinking
enormous quantities of water to stave off the pangs of hunger. A man
who has been in India says that all drink like this in famine time,
which inflates the stomach to a dangerous extent, and is the
forerunner of certain death.
To the babies we give all the scraps of food we can gather up after
our own rough food is eaten, and to see the little disappointed faces
when there is nothing is sadder than to watch the wounded being
carried in. If we ever get out we have some heavy scores to settle,
and some of our rifles will speak very bitterly.
Thus enclosed in our brick-bound lines, each of us is spinning out his
fate. The Europeans still have as much food as they need; the Chinese
are half starving; shot and shell continue; stinks abound; rotting
carcases lie festering in the sun; our command is looser than ever. It
is the merest luck we are still holding out. Perhaps to-morrow it will
be over. In any case, the glory has long since departed, and we have
nothing but brutal realities.
XV
THE ARMISTICE
17th July, 1900.
* * * * *
The impossible has happened at the eleventh hour. Around us those
hoarse-throated trumpets have been ringing out stentoriously all day.
How blood-curdling they sounded! Calling fiercely and insistently to
one another, this barbaric cease-fire of brass trumpets has grown to
such a blood-curdling roar that attention had to be paid, and
gradually but surely the rifles have been all stilled until complete
and absolute silence surrounds us. At last diplomacy in the far-away
outer world has made itself heard, and we who are placed in the very
centre of this Middle Kingdom of China, being parleyed with by the
responsible Chinese Government. It has been a long and heart-breaking
wait, but it is always better late than never.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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