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
With the eunuchs protesting more and more vigorously, and seeking to
stay our advance by a curious mixture of suggestion and imploring and
resistance which is a quality of the East, we slowly passed through
apartment after apartment. Some now were furnished with luxurious long
divans which eloquently invited graceful repose. What scenes had not
this silent furniture witnessed, and how little could the makers have
supposed, as they cunningly carved and stained and coloured, that
barbarians from Europe would be one day insolently gazing on their
handiwork!...
I had lagged somewhat behind, when some curses and imprecations
dragged my wandering attention to the doors beyond. Two eunuchs had
fallen on their knees and were now kowtowing and begging with renewed
vigour, while a third was standing more resolutely than his fellows
with outstretched arms, imperatively forbidding any further advance.
The most interesting point had been reached; this must be the greatest
thing of all.
But these eunuchs were beginning to fatigue us with their airs of duly
authorised custodians who could do as they pleased, and going up, we
now told them that unless they went quickly away we would kill them
then and there. We all drew our revolvers, stood over them, and waited
a minute of two. Then, as if they had acted their parts right up to
the end, the men on their knees got up suddenly, shook themselves,
bowed to us politely without a trace of feeling, and left....
"_Enfin,"_ said K----.
At last we were in this dear Empress's bedroom, the abode which
shelters for such a considerable number of hours of every twenty-four
the most powerful woman in Asia. We looked eagerly. At one side of the
room was a large bed, beautifully adorned with embroidered hangings;
ranged round there was a profusion of handsome carved-wood furniture,
with European chairs upholstered in a style out of keeping with the
rest; on a high stand there were jewelled clocks noisily ticking; and
hidden modestly in one corner was nothing less than a magnificent
silver _pot de chambre_. She was here evidently very much at her ease,
the dear old lady. That little detail delighted me. The rest was
rather _banal_.
_Sans ceremonie_, I seated myself on the Imperial bed--it seemed to be
the most peaceful act of vandalism I could commit in repayment for
certain discomforts occasioned by this old lady's whims during eight
weeks of rifle-fire. And as my recollections went back to those
terrible days, I came down heavily as I could on this august couch. I
must confess that as a bed it was excellent; the old lady must have
slept well through it all, while she caused us our ceaseless vigil....
This solitude in the most secluded of spots in the whole Palace made
us more and more inquisitive, and soon K---- and myself were hard at
work, rummaging every likely hiding-place.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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