An American Soldier in China

IT would seem that English-speaking people have, with singular unanimity, joined in canonizing the remarkable Englishman who is believed to have perished at Khartoum. For such canonization this paper will have no word of disparaging criticism ; nor will it touch upon any of this man’s work except that connected with the suppression of the Taeping Rebellion in China.

Were General Gordon living, and able to speak for himself, he would not claim the entire credit of that achievement ; nor would he, like his biographers and eulogists, decry or ignore the yeoman’s service done by a humble American, who gave his life for the cause. I, the present writer, might hesitate to break a lance with these autocratic British historians but for the advantage which I possess in having lived on the spot at the time of the operations, and thus gotten information at first hand.

It would be well to strip the performances of the so-called “ Ever Victorious Army ” of the romance and sentiment with which they have been invested. In their dealings, from the very first, with China, foreign nations have uniformly and completely ignored the golden rule. They have been guided wholly by selfinterest, and have enforced their claims by the power of strong battalions. The great concessions to foreign trade of the last thirty years were secured only after the “ Arrow ” war of 1856, and the campaign of 1860 which resulted in the capture of Pekin. While the Imperialists were struggling in these years against the Allies, the great Taeping Rebellion gained much ground ; and a ghastly and terrible thing it was, attended by a loss of human life and a destruction of property for which no parallel can be found in modern history. The city of Nankin, and Soochow, the “ Paris of China,” were taken, and Shanghae was threatened. Within a hundred miles of the latter place I have walked for hours through a country once thickly settled, happy and prosperous, but now deserted and rapidly becoming a jungle, strewn with ruins.

When the Allies had driven General San-ko-lin-sin into Pekin, and the Antin gate of the city had been opened just as Sir Robert Napier was about to storm it, the Allies were confronted with this internal dissension, threatening the very existence of the government with which they were just making treaties of peace and commerce. Of course they had no more right to meddle with the Taeping Rebellion than they had to interfere in our civil war ; but the world has condoned their action, because it is taught that in helping the Imperialists they acted from pure motives and in the great cause of humanity. As a matter of fact, they did nothing of the kind. They only debated as to which side it would be better to assist, in the interest of trade.

Between the two, in the matters of fiendish cruelty and ruthless barbarity, there was nothing to choose. Foreign residents, until the settlements were actually threatened, generally sided with the Rebels. These latter craved the good-will of the Fang-Kwei and promised him all sorts of concessions. Under date of February 19, 1861, Mr. Consul Meadows, one of the ablest and best informed men in the East, addressed an elaborate dispatch to Lord John Russell, in which he argued the claims of the Taepings. Fate was against them, however. The Allies determined that it would be better to aid the “ Imps ” (as the Rebels called them), and, step by step, they threw themselves into the cause. In 1862 they announced, among other things, their purpose of holding, and excluding the Taepings from, the “ thirty-mile radius ” around Shanghae; and this from no motive under heaven but the benefit of their pockets. The British policy was delightfully summarized by a vivacious officer of the Royal Engineers, whom I met at dinner in 1860. The tired volunteers, who had served at the Shanghae barricades in the burning sun, had just been relieved by a strong British force, under Brigadier Jephson, sent post haste from Sir Hope Grant’s army before Pekin. We rejoiced, but we wondered. “ How is it,” I asked my red-jacketed friend, “ that, while you are fighting the Imperialists up there, you send down to help them here?”

“ My dear fellow,” he replied, “ we always pitch into the swells. At the north the Imperialists are the swells, but down here, by Jove ! the Rebels are, don’t you know ? — so we pitch into them both.”

The hostility of the English and French hopelessly handicapped the Rebels ; and, as we all know, they went down. The effective operations of the Chinese against them were initiated and conducted to an advanced stage by an American, General Ward, and concluded by an Englishman, General Gordon. The former began his work under crushing difficulties, and was at first obstructed, abused, and even threatened by the English, who came in time to respect and admire him; the latter had the moral and physical aid of Great Britain at his back, first, last, and all the time. Both fought for the supremacy of one set of Chinamen over another, and for material advantage ; both were pure soldiers of fortune; both were desperately brave and desperately ambitious. One made no claim to goodness or philanthropy ; he only sought to

The other goes down to history as a saint and martyr. There are few enough of such in the world, and Americans may well join in singing his praises ; but they ought not to forget their own countryman.

I myself served several times at the defense of Shanghae in the company of as brave and good a set of fellows as ever lived, the Shanghae Volunteers. Inasmuch as we were primarily men of peace, and the treaties guaranteed us protection, we thought it hard that we must defend the miserable Chinamen as well as ourselves ; but I am sure we were all proud of having done so. I say were; for of the infantry who manned the barricades, of the rangers who charged upon the Rebels at the Stone Bridge, of the artillerists who, after long and laborious drill with the celebrated Light (Horse) Batte y, fully held their own when brigaded with regulars, many are dead, and the rest are scattered in far-distant lands. Their deeds were unhonored and unsung, — but they came to know a good deal about the Taeping Rebellion.

On the afternoon of August 18, 1860, when things looked black for us, a man of slight figure approached me, as I stood at the Maloo Barrier. He had collected a few fighting men, and desired to place them where they would be of use ; and so, amid the roar of artillery, the rattle of musketry, and the shrieks of native fugitives, I first met General Ward. He was a man of excellent address, mild and gentle in manner, and as kind and warm-hearted as possible. His long hair and slight mustache were dark, and he habitually wore a blue coat tightly buttoned.

What a history was his ! He was a native of Salem, Massachusetts, and a seaman. He volunteered with the French in the Crimea, where he quarreled with his superior officer, and was allowed to resign. Returning to the United States, he adopted the peaceful occupation of a ship-broker in New York, but soon found it irksome. Hearing of an advantageous chance to buy some old ordnance in Mexico, he went thither and concluded the operation, on account of a New York acquaintance who furnished the capital ; but a second venture at Alvarado, on his own behalf, was not successful. Then followed an attempt to secure a grant of land in Sonora, and an intrigue for the possession of some church property.

Later, alone and poor, he crossed the continent on horseback, and reached California. There he heard of the troubles in China, and, taking ship, sailed for Shanghae. He knew a man named Gough, a so-called admiral in the Chinese Imperial service ; and under his advice he attempted the organization of a force of Manilamen, who proved worthless. Next he went to Takee, an eminent Chinese banker, and made with him the celebrated contract of which so much was said in years gone by. The party of the first part (Ward) was to carry by assault the important town of Sungkiang, not far from Shanghae, and then in the hands of the Rebels. For said service, the party of the second part (Takee) was to pay said party of the first part the sum of forty thousand dollars, cash, and to promptly dispatch men to loot or plunder said town. This contract was faithfully carried out. Ward hid some forty or fifty foreigners (including several free lances, who subsequently became famous) in cargo-boats, and landed them in the night at Sungkiang. They reached the moat, crossed it on a large beam, used said beam as a battering-ram, carried a guard-house, and turned the guns on the city. Those familiar with Chinese warfare will know that it was quite natural for the Rebels to run when surprised in this manner, — and so they did. The city was captured and looted, and the cash was duly paid.

There was something strikingly original about this method of carrying on warfare, and it did not commend itself in large degree to foreigners in China. The English pronounced Ward a freebooter and a dangerous man ; and an indiscreet naval captain proposed arresting him, but happily thought better of it. Nor were we Americans, I am bound to say, highly impressed at the outset by what we heard of our countryman.

Then for a time we lost sight of him ; but he was not idle. He began drilling, in European style, a native force of, I think, about one thousand men. He gained the confidence of the Chinese, and secured the funds with which to import a steamer from the United States. It was in connection with this steamer that I came to know him well. I never saw him in action, nor except in the foreign settlement at Shanghae, but I learned greatly to admire him.

It was soon time for general appreciation and admiration to replace distrust and ignorant dislike. One day it was known that a powerful Rebel force was approaching Shanghae. Then came again the familiar call to arms, the preparations to receive women and children on board the steamers, the daily orders and bulletins.

Then, however, followed something new and surprising. The Rebels had, we heard, been met and defeated with tremendous slaughter, — and by whom ? By a native force, admirably drilled, equipped, and disciplined, fighting by European tactics, and led to victory — complete, overwhelming victory against an enormous numerical superiority — by our lately despised American filibustero, General Ward.

Public opinion changed at a jump. It must have been with a grim satisfaction that Ward awoke, the morning after this battle, to find himself famous ; to receive the friendly congratulations of such a rare old paladin as Vice-Admiral Sir James Hope (who had two flagships sunk under him at the Peiho ports in 1859) ; and to find the allied commanders anxious not only to see in him the leader of the Chinese army of the future, but also to coöperate with him in all ways. Rarely was poetical justice more speedily done.

Next came eulogies. Sir John Michel, on resigning the British military command in China on February 28, 1862, spoke in the highest terms of Ward, and said he ought to have eight or ten thousand men. Sir Frederic Bruce, who at first had nothing but lofty contempt for Ward, wrote, on March 26, 1862, to Earl Russell, “ In the Chinese force organized and led by Mr. Ward I see the nucleus and beginning of a military organization which may prove most valuable in the disturbed state of China.”

It would be wearisome and useless to detail Ward’s subsequent operations. It would be simply to give a list of uniform successes in the capture of a long array of Chinese towns with unpronounceable names. On July 21, 1862, Prince Kung himself wrote to Sir Frederic Bruce, “ The native musketeer force formed at this place [Shanghae] by the foreigner Ward has been named by natives and foreigners the ‘ Ever Victorious.’ So well established is its repute for valor and energy : wherever it fights it gains the day.”

It was a terrible service. Ward spared neither himself nor those under him. The officers, conspicuous figures among the native privates, suffered fearfully. Ward was struck and wounded many times.

“ Some day,” he remarked to me, “ I may be able to say Go! Now I must say Come ! ” Such a one found ready followers and commanded prompt obedience. His chief of artillery was a man named Glasgow. He had been a noncommissioned officer in the British service, and so brave and skillful that promotion was twice in his grasp, only to be forfeited by excesses. On a memorable day, when he was with Ward, he had a battery in the open, pounding at the walls of a city. To him came his slight, boyish-looking commander.

“ That battery is making bad practice,” said he. “ Advance it one hundred yards.” The position was enfiladed by bullets, and men were dropping every moment; but from that order there was no appeal. Glasgow shrugged his shoulders, took a surreptitious pull at a flask, and gave the word. Another half hour, and he could cease firing, for the small man in the blue coat was in the breach, with the forlorn hope of the Ever Victorious Army.

In the autumn of 1862, Ward was at the zenith of his power. It is a fact that be had reached a position never attained by any other foreigner in the Chinese service. He had received unexampled promotion, and knew that upon the expected capture of Nankin he would be raised to the rank of a prince of the blood royal. It is also a fact that his consuming ambition aimed at the restoration of the old Chinese dynasty to the throne so long held by their Tartar conquerors.

He was a soldier to the ends of his fingers, and doubtless accepted all risks and counted all chances. He had faced death too often not to know how near it was to him from hour to hour, and that at any moment all his dreams, hopes, and ambitions might be as naught.

I have said that I saw him first in a stormy scene. My last sight of him was under far different circumstances. On a day late in September, 1862 (the 19th, I think), I looked up from my writing to see him standing by me. I could not think of this smiling, amiable man as a great commander and a future ruler. I only remembered then that when I, a few months before, lay sick of that terrible Shanghae fever, which is said to combine all the bad features of other fevers with a few of its own, he had taken time from his cares and duties to come and sit by a young countryman’s bedside. He asked me to lend him my Arab horse, which of course I was glad to do.

Later in the afternoon, walking in a street of the settlement, I met him, sitting erect in the saddle. We stopped, and I was patting my horse’s neck and talking to the general, when the impulse seized me to speak to him as I did.

“ General,” I said, “ you are taking fearful risks. You may be killed at any moment. In such case, what will become of your property and affairs ? Let me find you a confidential secretary, or some one in whose hands you can trust your great interests.” His blue coat was buttoned tightly over his chest. He smiled as he pointed with his right hand to the outline of a small book in his left breast pocket, and then touching it said, “ Oh, it is all here.”

I bade him farewell, and never saw him again. About forty-eight hours later, the town of Tsekie, not far from Ningpo, was attacked by his forces. Cooperating with him was a gallant and intelligent British sailor, Captain Roderick Dew, R. N., of H. M. S. Encounter. As a contrast to the shabby treatment which Ward’s memory has had from historians and biographers, let us see what this brave man, who knew more of that of which he spoke than all of them put together, wrote to Sir James Hope from Ningpo on September 23, 1862 : —

“ It is now my painful duty to inform you that General Ward, while directing the assault, fell, mortally wounded. The Hardy brought him down the same evening to Ningpo, and he died the next morning in Dr. Barker’s house.

“ During a short acquaintance with General Ward, I have learnt to appreciate him much, and I fear his death will cast a gloom over the Imperial cause in China, of which he was the stay and prop.”

So perished this remarkable man. Of the deeds of his successor in the command of the army I need not speak. These deeds are worthy of record, and those who have chronicled them are to be impeached not for what they have said about Gordon, but for what they have left unsaid about Ward.

In this paper I have tried to make no statement which is not susceptible of proof by documents or living witnesses. Such support I have not for the assertion, which I nevertheless believe to be strictly true, that Gordon, who had served at times in the staff with Ward, and greatly admired him, declared, on succeeding him in command, that he “ had but to follow where the American soldier had led.” Whether he said so or not, however, that is what he did. The creator and the first great commander of the Ever Victorious Army was Frederic T. Ward. That he would have taken Nankin and speedily crushed the Taeping Rebellion is beyond all question ; and he left to Gordon a task far easier than that which he had himself accomplished.

It is difficult to withhold praise from brave deeds, even if we be not wholly in sympathy with the cause in which they are done. While dwelling upon the striking and dramatic character of Ward’s achievements, and having only admiration for the many excellent traits of his character, a conscientious historian must guard himself from approval, actual or implied, of the entry of any right-minded and self-respecting foreigner into the Chinese naval or military service. To this day we maintain the “ ex-territorial jurisdiction ” in that country, because no one would dream of trusting the lives or liberties of Americans to the mercies of Chinamen even in time of peace. How much more dreadful must it be to have part or lot with them in time of war ! Both Ward and Gordon were brave, and in a way great men; but in China they were engaged in a miserable business, and we must like and praise them in spite of this business, not on account of it. They waded to their ends through the blood of thousands of men who had done them no harm, and whom no sentiment of patriotism nor love of liberty impelled them to oppose. They were associated, too, with Imperialist authorities and forces, for whose evil deeds they were of course not responsible, but who were sorry allies for honorable men. The story has been told of the cruel murder of the Wongs, or rebel chiefs, who had surrendered to Gordon under his pledge that their lives should be spared, and of his rage and despair thereat. This was but an isolated case ; and so horrible were the atrocities connected with the suppression of the Rebellion that one must shrink from pursuing the subject.

Ward, as I have said, must have known what desperate chances he took from day to day, and it was doubtless a consolation to him to think of the honor in which his name would be held and the wealth which he would leave to his family, should death suddenly lay low his hopes of earthly power and greatness. Let us see how both his fame and his fortune fared at the hands of the cowardly and imbecile dynasty of which he had been the “ stay and prop,” and in whose service he sacrificed his life.

They gave him a gorgeous funeral at Sungkiang ; and it is understood that unprecedented honors were conferred upon his lifeless remains when they were allowed to rest in the inner sanctuary of the Confucian temple. Then, with promptness and thoroughness, they proceeded to deal with his property, — with the houses and lands, the flocks and herds, the shekels of gold and silver, with which they had lavishly endowed him.

When taken on board H. M. S. Hardy, mortally wounded, Ward made the following dying statement, —

“ The Taotai of Shanghae owes me 110,000 taels. Takee also owes me 30,000 taels, — 140,000 taels.

“ I wish my wife to have 50,000 taels, and all remains to be between my brother and sister.

“ I wish Admiral Sir James Hope and Mr. Burlingame to be my executors.”

These words were taken down, and witnessed by Archibald G. Bogle, Lieutenant R. N., commanding, and John Colter, Boatswain. When I spoke to Ward, two days before he died, I warned him all in vain. The Taotai (Governor) and the excellent Takee shrugged their shoulders in pitying contempt. Wah (Ward) was a great man, indeed, but, by the blessed memory of Confucius, he did but jest when he spoke of their owing him money. The United States consul-general made a gallant fight, and compelled the Chinamen to refer the matter to arbitration. Curiously enough, I was myself selected as an arbitrator on behalf of the estate. When I met the gentleman named by the Chinese, I had vividly in mind the little book in Ward’s pocket, wherein “ it all was.” Of this book no trace could be found ; nor could a scintilla of evidence on behalf of the estate be brought to light. Our almond-eyed friends were then, as always, “ peculiar for ways that are dark and tricks that are vain.” Of the fortune which Ward was known to possess, we — American minister (Mr. Burlingame, who took much interest in the matter), consulgeneral, administrators, arbitrators, relatives, friends — could find but a pitiful and beggarly remnant. Between six and seven years after Ward died I was making the journey from Hong Kong to Shanghae in the U. S. S. Monocacy. As fellow passenger I had the American minister, the lamented J. Ross Browne, and we stopped at the open coast ports. At Ningpo, among the callers on board the ship was an ex-officer of Ward’s army, then in command of a so-called Anglo-Chinese force. It occurred to me to ask him if he knew what became of the now celebrated little book. He drew me to the rear of the cabin, and spoke in low tones.

“ I can tell you,” said he. “ I was guarding the general’s body. The blue coat which you remember lay on a chair, and the book was in the breast pocket. Colonel —, my superior officer, relieved me. The book was never seen again, but I saw Colonel-buy exchange for forty thousand dollars.”

If my Anglo-Chinese friend spoke truly (and he was a man of most excellent reputation), that poor little book was a very cheap purchase for the Chinese government at $40,000.

During the late Franco-Chinese war I was more than once pained to hear men who ought to know better talk about seeking service under the dragon flag. This is no place in which to say the very much that might be said as to the wretchedness of such service, and the pirate’s fate which they would court, and very probably meet, when encountering a foreign foe; but they might take a lesson from the history of Ward. Not one in ten thousand of them could at all approach him in military genius, in courage, and in resources, or do anything like what he did. Yet the Rebels took his life, the Imperialists took his money, and Gordon’s biographers took his fame.

A. A. Hayes.