Ti-Ping Tien-Kwoh: The History of the Ti-Ping Revolution (Volume I)

During shooting excursions and my frequent intercourse with the Chinese country people, I have nearly always found them exhibiting traits of character we give them little credit for; but only when they are completely by themselves, and none of the Manchoo troops, officials, or employés of any description are in the vicinity, have I found them particularly friendly to foreigners—very inquisitive, although not so outwardly, by reason of their great politeness and calm behaviour; hospitable and obliging. To qualify this, yet to render still more interesting the natural disposition of the people, it is easily perceived they have a sort of undefined dread of, and dislike to us, caused by the lying teaching and bitterly hostile reports circulated by the entire body of Manchoo officials concerning the "foreign devils," which, for my part, I have always done my best to expose wherever I have wandered amongst the deeply interesting natives. But few Europeans are aware of the entire misrepresentations the Manchoo Government circulate about foreigners, much less of the monstrous atrocities attributed to them; and I dare say, if propriety allowed me to mention some I have been told by the Chinese, most people would disbelieve them, especially since the British Government has entered into alliance with the Manchoos.

I was eye-witness to a fearful specimen of the so-called "paternal" Government's displeasure at Foo-chow some years since. It appears the Viceroy of Fu-keen issued an edict to prevent the Cantonese ascending the river to trade, for some fault they had committed. Before, however, this edict could have become generally known, three Canton lorchas sailed up the river laden with merchandise. They were fired upon by the batteries about the mouth of the river, yet, regardless of this (for the Cantonese are a brave, obstinate race), they passed up and arrived within a short distance of the European shipping. At this point, about sixty of the Mandarin gunboats (row-galleys), without any warning or communication whatever, opened fire upon and pulled for the lorchas. Apparently, the first two allowed them to board unresistingly; and this no sooner took place than a savage slaughter of their helpless crews commenced. Some were cut down and brutally mutilated upon the decks, their heads being chopped off and their bodies thrown overboard; others jumped into the river, only to be there killed by the soldiers in the gunboats, who followed them wherever they swam, spearing them, and thrusting them under water. The crew of the third lorcha, seeing the terrible fate of their comrades, endeavoured to prevent the government troops from boarding, and made a gallant resistance. Their defence, however, though desperate, was unavailing. The gunboats surrounded them, and poured in showers of grape and canister; the lorcha had but three guns of small calibre to reply with, and soon lost so many men that those remaining could no longer beat the enemy off. At last, being boarded, some of her defenders jumped overboard, and the rest, fighting and disputing inch by inch, were quickly dispatched. Some of the European shipping sent boats to try and rescue the poor wretches from the water, and, fortunately, managed to save a few. Thus, for breaking a proclamation of which, very probably, they were ignorant, these unfortunate men were all massacred, and the ships, with their cargo, confiscated to the Mandarins.

After some voyages upon the coast, my vessel was ordered to Whampoa, to be dry-docked and her bottom overhauled. Before entering the dock, and while lying at anchor on the river, I was one evening surprised to see a san-pan (literally three planks, i.e. a little boat) containing two Chinese girls, and a third, neither Chinese nor European, hanging about the ship; its occupants evidently desirous to communicate something, yet half fearful to venture. The lady of the unknown nationality seemed endeavouring to attract my attention. I was alone on the quarter-deck, with the exception of an old weather-beaten quartermaster. I beckoned her to come alongside, and descended the gangway ladder. As I was going over the side, the old quartermaster came up to me and exclaimed—

"Keep your weather eye lifting, sir; she's a pi-ar Portuguee."

"Well," I replied; "what if she is?"

"Well, d'ye see, sir, them Portugees is awful wild craft. I've got a remembrancer here," touching his ribs; "one of 'em gave me in Rio, just because she thought I was backing and filling with a chum of hers."

"If a Rio girl fell in love with you, and you made her jealous, you old sinner, what has that to do with a Whampoa girl? Besides, we shall have no time for falling in love here."

"Ay! ay! you don't know 'em, sir; the breed's the same all over; and, as for time, why, they'll be in love with you afore you can say 'vast heaving there."

"You're out of your reckoning for once, quartermaster; call Mr. ——, if I am not on board by eight bells;" and with this I disappeared over the side.

Directly I jumped into the boat, it was shoved off, and dropped astern with the tide.

My attention was, of course, directed to the lady designated a "pi-ar Portuguee" by the quartermaster; I at once discovered that she was a Macao Portuguese, very handsome; and, to all appearance, in great affliction. For some time she made no reply to my inquiries as to what was the matter, but commenced sobbing, and crying as if her heart would break. At last she ceased, and related the cause of her trouble to the following effect:—She was the daughter of a rich Macanese, who was principal owner of one of the Whampoa docks, and was also Portuguese consul at that port. Her mother was dead, and her father had determined to compel her to marry a wealthy Chilianian half-caste; in fact, everything was arranged for the marriage to take place in ten days' time. She hated the fellow, in spite of his dollars, which, it appeared, was her father's idol, and was resolved to suffer anything rather than submit. She came off to my ship to try and obtain a passage down to Hong-Kong, where she had friends who would take care of her. Here was the deuce to pay, and no pitch hot, as the sailors say. In a moment, almost, I was to become the champion and protector of this forlorn damsel. However selfishly I tried to reflect, I could not help being sensibly impressed with her extreme beauty and utter wretchedness. The piquante style of her pretty broken English, as she implored me to give her a passage to Hong-Kong and save her; the knowledge of the cruel fate which awaited her—the entire confidence which she was only too willing to repose in me—her unprotected position and passionate, ingenuous, ebullition of feeling—all conspired to interest me deeply in her favour.

The longer I listened the more interested and determined to help her I became. She was very young, and it seemed irresistible to sympathize with and pity her. At last, in the midst of a protestation of assistance on my part, and of fervent thanks on hers, we were interrupted by one of the China girls thrusting her head under the mat cover of the boat, and exclaiming—

"Hi ya! missee! more bettah go shore,—belong shih tim cheong" (ten o'clock).

The poor girl seemed quite alarmed to find it so late, and told the boatwomen to pull ashore as fast as possible.

We soon reached the bank, but my interesting friend would not allow me to land with her, stating she lived close by; however, she promised to meet me at the spot we then occupied, the next evening. The China girls quickly pulled me off to my ship, and then I was alone to think over the singularity and probable issue of the adventure.

Poor Marie! would that I had never met her—that she had accepted the Chilianian, or some prophetic spirit had whispered a warning in time to save her from her sad fate. However, it was ordained otherwise, and all that is left me is her memory. True to her promise, she saw me the following evening; then the next; and so for several consecutive days. It happened that, fortunately for the fulfilment of our appointments, Marie's father never returned from the docks, at the opposite side of the river, till late in the evening. We were thus constantly thrown together, and who can wonder that we insensibly allowed ourselves to become deeply attached?

Upon the ninth day after our first meeting, my ship was undocked, and prepared to sail for Hong-Kong in the morning; the morning, too, that, as Marie told me with tears in her eyes, would usher in her bridal day. Although Marie and I had never till then spoken of love, we both knew that it was mutual, and at this moment of peril and uncertainty we threw off all disguise and expressed our true feelings for each other. She felt no regret at sacrificing all other ties for my sake—I was but too anxious to risk anything to save her. On the evening of this, the last day that was to separate us, Marie entered her cruel father's dwelling for the last time; and, having quickly made some slight preparations, rejoined me in the boat with which I awaited her.

This boat was the same in which I had first seen her, and the poor girls who worked it being slaves of one of the old Whampoa laundresses, I determined to rescue them from their doubtful future, and prevent them making any disclosure as to Marie's escape, by carrying them down to Hong-Kong with her, and there giving them liberty.

I had already made every preparation on board, and had taken the gunner and carpenter into my confidence, as I had decided to stow them away in the sail-room; and to do this rendered it necessary for them to pass the berths of those officers. About midnight, sending the quartermaster of the watch off the deck upon an errand to get him out of the way, I smuggled the girls aboard and secreted them at the back of the sail-room well hidden by spare topsails, &c., piled up before them.

Early in the morning we lighted fires, and soon after daybreak, with steam up, commenced to get under weigh. Just then, as I fully expected, off came Marie's father and the old laundress—the one to look for a daughter who vanished on her bridal morn, the other for her poor slave girls—with warrants from the British consul for the delivery of the three girls if found on board. I was in charge of the deck, and took care to receive the bereaved parties at the gangway. After hearing their complaints, I reported the case to the captain, and received his orders to have the ship searched. This duty I took upon myself, rousing all hands out, and searching every part of the ship except the sail-room, which I took care to allow no one to approach. By the time the unsuccessful search was concluded, the anchor had been weighed, and we immediately commenced to drop down the river.

When we reached Hong-Kong, Marie landed and went to reside with her friends. She had become my betrothed, and seemed truly happy in the thought that nothing now could cause our separation. Little either of us thought at that happy time how ruthlessly all these bright prospects would be altered, and what sadness was yet in store for us. Alas! how little at that happy time either thought how soon the ruthless destroyer would annihilate a bond we had sworn should last for ever.

Marie was very lovely. Rather darker than the generality of Macao women; her complexion was a beautifully clear deep olive; the skin delicately soft, with the rich blood mantling through upon the slightest emotion; her eyes large, jet-black, lustrous, and almond-shaped, as those of the Spanish creoles of South America—eyes which can form a language of their own, so deeply expressive, so ever changeful, and heart-speaking—were exquisitely fringed with long silken lashes and arching brows; her hair, dark as the raven's wing, waved in rich profusion round her finely tapered shoulders; the Grecian nose and delicately formed nostrils spoke of her high caste; while a short full upper lip, so richly coloured, adorned a mouth small but singularly expressive, and studded with teeth of pearly whiteness. This young creature, nurtured in a southern clime, could scarcely number sixteen summers, and yet her petite figure, lithe and graceful as it was, had attained its full development. She was, in truth, an unsophisticated child of nature—ardent, passionate—the very creature of impulse.

In a small secluded dwelling, shaded by evergreen foliage, in one of the prettiest parts of Hong-Kong, every moment I could spare from my ship was devoted to Marie. We were supremely happy. We had no thought or care for the morrow, we were too fully absorbed in the present. The old quartermaster's warning proved his experience, although, with one exception, it was unnecessary in my case, yet the exception was sufficient.

To many of those warm impassioned temperaments of the East love becomes as necessary as life itself. Marie was one of these. Natures like hers could be moulded by love to any form. The house of Marie's relatives was one of two built together; but for this it would have been in total seclusion, the bend of the hills it rested on hiding all other buildings in the distance, and entirely screening it from observation. The next door and only neighbours consisted of two Portuguese sisters and an Englishman, the husband of the eldest.

The Portuguese being natives of Macao, were slightly acquainted with Marie, and we gradually became intimate with them. The youngest of the sisters was very good-looking, and being of a very merry disposition, we often had great fun. Now, it so happened that Marie's love was so intense, so selfish, and so exacting, she could not bear me to pay the slightest attention to another. So at last, to realize the old adage, that "true love never did run smooth," she took it into her passionate little head to become jealous. This jealousy may be a very mild affair amongst our colder Northern women, but with a fiery little piece of impetuosity like Marie it was more serious. With such temperaments, jealousy instantly generates an all-consuming passion for revenge.

For a little while I had noticed Marie's more than usual excitability, accompanied by occasional bursts of grief, without any apparent cause; but, knowing her extreme sensitiveness, I thought but little of it. At last the cause was revealed, and this history nearly terminated in its revelation.

The house had a verandah in front, connecting it with that adjoining, from which it was simply divided by a wooden partition. One evening I and Theresa, the unmarried Portuguese, were conversing from the respective balconies. I fancied Marie had received me rather crossly that day, and to vex her thought I would have a little fun with her pretty neighbour. This thoughtlessness very nearly resulted in a tragical termination. After laughing and chatting with Theresa for some time, I went close up to the partition between the verandahs; and, leaning round it, pretended to kiss her. Instantly I heard Marie, with an exclamation, rush towards me. As I withdrew, I fortunately caught the shadow of an uplifted hand on my own side of the partition; and, while turning, I rapidly threw up my arm, just in time to arrest the descending blow, aimed by Marie with a stiletto. I received but a slight scratch, and soon took the weapon from my fierce little love, who instantly, with characteristic revulsion of feeling, threw herself into my arms in a passionate burst of grief. We were soon reconciled; this was Marie's first and last jealousy.

CHAPTER II.

Hung-sui-tshuen is a name now familiar in most parts of Europe as that of the chief—or King, as his followers term him—of the great Ti-ping revolution in China. Unfortunately much misapprehension exists as to him and his cause. Such information as I may give my readers, that has not come under my personal observation, has been derived from the actors themselves, especially all relating to the origin of the Ti-pings, their progress until I met them, and the description of their great leader—in fact, my knowledge of Hung-sui-tshuen has been obtained principally from his Prime Minister and cousin (Hung-jin), his chamberlain, and many of his chiefs and own clan. Since my return to England, I have had the pleasure to peruse, for the first time, the admirable little work of the late Rev. Theodore Hamberg, missionary of the Basle Evangelical Society to China—"The Visions of Hung-sui-tshuen, and Origin of the Kwang-si Insurrection." This, and the pamphlet entitled "Recent Events in China," by the Bishop of Victoria (published some nine or ten years ago), coincide in most particulars with the information I have gathered from direct sources; and, as all my journals, notes, and memoranda fell into the hands of the Imperialists during my service with the Ti-pings, I have found them very useful in recalling facts I might otherwise have forgotten.

Hung-sui-tshuen was born in the year 1813, at a small village in the Hwa district,[2] some little distance from the city of Canton. His ancestors, originally from the north-east boundary of the Kwang-tung province, soon after the complete subjugation of the Chinese by the Manchoo Tartars, A.D. 1685, with many other families loyal to the Ming, through the persecution and exactions of the invader, abandoned their homes and sought refuge in the southern parts of Kwang-tung and Kwang-se, the two most southerly provinces of China. Here, to the present day, their descendants are known by the name of Hakkas (settlers) by the Punti people (natives of the soil).

The genealogy of Hung-sui-tshuen's family is one of the most ancient in China. During ten centuries, until the era of the present dynasty, they trace members of their house occupying the most exalted stations in the empire. So far back as the Sung dynasty, A.D. 1000, many of the Hungs were prominent literati; from that time till the Manchoo invasion, numbers of them have been members of the Han-lin College—the highest literary rank in China. For many generations the dignity of Minister of State was attained, and this was particularly the case throughout the sovereignty of Sung. During the Ming dynasty (the last Chinese one) likewise, the Hungs invariably numbered men of renown and literary attainments among them. They became allied to the Imperial family by marriage; and it was one of the Hungs who, as generalissimo of the Chinese forces, fought the last battle in defence of Nankin and the Ming prince. The prince was treacherously killed by some of his own followers, while the general perished with the greater number of his troops, being totally defeated by the Tartars, who thus destroyed the last attempt to keep them north of the river Yang-tze-kiang.

Like most countries, China has had her feudal period, the earliest and last authentic records of which refer to the ninth and tenth centuries. In this, as in many important events, the Chinese have been before western nations, their feudal system having terminated anterior to the meridian of that of Europe. A system of clanship, however, prevails in many parts of China; all persons of the same surname, though frequently numbering tens of thousands, being considered near kindred; and, singularly enough, not being allowed to marry amongst themselves. I am inclined to believe this is much lessened at the present day, for I have generally found that members of a clan or kindred do not reverence any one head of the entire name, but one much more nearly related to themselves, and who is seldom elder, or chief, of more than some hundreds. Previous to the incursion of the Manchoos, Hung-sui-tshuen's kindred formed a vast and powerful body; their stanch support of the last struggles for the Ming dynasty, and the sanguinary persecutions they, in common with other obnoxious families, suffered from the invader, greatly reduced their number. Upon the outbreak of the Ti-ping revolution, the Hung clan was supposed to number upwards of 20,000 persons; subsequent to that event the greater part were massacred by the Imperialists, simply because they were the connections of a rebel! Of Hung's immediate relatives, who, to the number of five or six hundred, peopled his native village under the authority of his father, not one remains; men, women, and children, all who were unable to join him, were mercilessly slaughtered by the ruthless Manchoo, and their very dwellings swept from the face of the earth.

Now, although the honourable and ancient lineage of Hung-sui-tshuen has never been disputed, some persons, with a mendacity truly astonishing, have amused themselves by designating him the "Coolie King." Not only was Hung of good family—a secondary consideration in China, where personal rank is everything[3]—but his own position, as a member of the literati, was one of the most honourable. These are qualifications, it is probable, the persons who styled him "Coolie King" do not possess.

For many generations Hung's progenitors had been the chiefs or elders of their clan. His father fulfilled this capacity, and governed the affairs of his own and many surrounding villages. In spite of Hung's line of ancestry and his father's eldership, they were far from being well supplied with the good things of this life; in fact, their freehold was barely sufficient to support them. The family mansion was by no means suitable to the former dignity of the name. An ordinary Chinese farmer's cottage, containing nothing but the simplest articles of use, was the birthplace of one of the greatest men the empire has ever produced. At the earliest age, Hung exhibited a remarkable aptitude for study, became an inmate of the village school at seven years of age, and in less than twice that time had become proficient in the usual course of Chinese education; besides which, he studied by himself the history of China, and the higher branches of Chinese literature. Even at this early period, he was universally distinguished for his extraordinary talents, which were so highly appreciated by his teachers and relatives, that they united in defraying the expense of his further education. At sixteen years of age the want of means put an end to his studies; within a year, however, a young fellow-student took him as a companion. After this, when eighteen years of age, he was appointed schoolmaster of his native village, by the unanimous wish of the people.

About this time Hung commenced to attend the public examinations at Canton. These examinations confer upon successful candidates one of four literary degrees, commencing with a district examination, leading to a departmental one, to a provincial one, and finally to a Pekin examination, from which members of the Han-lin college are selected.

Although Hung-sui-tshuen was always one of the most distinguished at the district examinations, through the corruption of the Manchoo officials, to whom bribery alone is a passport, he was unable to obtain his degree. At last, upon another visit to the public examinations, about the year 1836, an event took place that ultimately, in no slight manner, affected his future career. This I cannot do better than give in the words of the Rev. T. Hamberg:—

Once more, in the year 1837, Hung-sui-tshuen attended the examinations. Upon this occasion, after being placed high on the list, his rank was afterwards lowered. This, with the gross injustice and partiality of the examiners, so affected him, that he returned home very ill. His illness lasted for a considerable time, during which he underwent a marvellous series of visions or dreams.

In the account of Hung's visions and earlier life, it will be necessary to quote frequently from Mr. Hamberg's little work, he having received in detail many important facts I only had in substance from Hung-jin. I feel the more confident of the indulgence of my readers from the fact of the interesting nature of all I shall quote, and, moreover, the absolute necessity of doing so in order to enable them to form a correct judgment of the noble character and almost superhuman career of the Tiping-wang.

It must be remembered that in a country like China, where literary distinction, until Manchoo corruption altered it, was the recognized path to honour and fame, everything tended to excite the hopes and ambition of Hung-sui-tshuen, who was more than usually intellectual, and whose failure to attain eminence, through the degenerated policy of the Manchoo dynasty, who no longer observe the rights of the literati in their selection of public officers, must have been accompanied with a degree of mortification and bitterness never experienced by Europeans, who have a variety of paths to distinction.

The visions of Hung-sui-tshuen, as related by Hung-jin, are thus published in Mr. Hamberg's account:—

The following is the description of Hung-sui-tshuen, given by his cousin Hung-jin, upon his return to health:—

The visions of Hung-sui-tshuen, marvellous as they were, and deeply significant upon many important points, could never have led to any earthly result but through the medium of some earthly key. This came at last, and the whole train of circumstances admit of no other interpretation than the will of a divine, inscrutable Providence. It is doubtful whether any one impressed with a sense of the awfully mysterious power of an Almighty Creator can dispute the cause of Hung-sui-tshuen's visions, conversion, and ultimate career; or that they rival many of the miracles of old which have been handed down to us, dimmed by the obscurity of time, and rendered difficult of comprehension by the subtleties of language as well as by the figurative style of the ancients.

For several years Hung-sui-tshuen continued his studies and acted as village schoolmaster. On one occasion, while engaged as teacher at a village some ten miles distant from his native place, a cousin, Le, while searching his bookcase, chanced to come across the small volumes, "Good Words for Exhorting the Age." Le inquired the nature of the works, but Sui-tshuen was unacquainted with the contents and lent them to him to read. It is stated by the Rev. T. Hamberg:—"These books contain a good number of whole chapters of the Bible according to the translation of Dr. Morison, many essays upon important subjects from single texts, and sundry miscellaneous statements founded on Scripture."

Le read the books and returned them, stating their contents were very extraordinary, and differed entirely from Chinese books. Sui-tshuen then took the books and commenced reading them closely and carefully. He was greatly astonished to find in these books what he considered an explanation of his own visions of six years before, and that their contents corresponded in a singular manner with all he had experienced at that time. He now understood the venerable old one who sat upon the highest place, and whom all men ought to worship, to be God the Heavenly Father; and the man of middle age, who had instructed him and assisted him in exterminating the demons, to be Jesus the Saviour of the world. The demons were the idols, his brothers and sisters were the men in the world. Sui-tshuen felt as if awaking from a long dream. He rejoiced in reality to have found a way to heaven, and a sure hope of everlasting life and happiness. Learning from the books the necessity of being baptized, Sui-tshuen and Le now, according to the manner described in the books, and as far as they understood the rite, administered baptism to each other. They prayed to God, and promised not to worship evil spirits, not to practise evil things, but to keep the heavenly commands; then they poured water upon their heads, saying, "Purification from all former sins, putting off the old, and regeneration." When this was done they felt their hearts overflowing with joy, and Sui-tshuen composed the following ode upon repentance:—

They thereupon cast away their idols and removed the tablet of Confucius, which is generally found in the schools, and worshipped by the teacher as well as the pupils.

In a little while Hung-sui-tshuen returned to his native village. He soon converted to the religion his cousin Hung-jin, and an intimate friend, Fung-yun-san, also a teacher.

While at home, Sui-tshuen and his friends attentively studied the books, which Sui-tshuen found to correspond in a striking manner with his former visions—a remarkable coincidence, which convinced him fully as to their truth, and that he was appointed by Divine authority to restore the world—that is, China—to the worship of the true God.

I must particularly recommend to the notice of my readers the sound reasoning and wisdom of Hung-sui-tshuen's own explanation, and the high and exalted determination his subsequent acts have so nobly fulfilled.

"These books," said he, "are certainly sent purposely by Heaven to me, to confirm the truth of my former experiences. If I had received the books without having gone through the sickness, I should not have dared to believe in them, or have ventured, on my own account, to oppose the customs of the whole world; if I had merely been sick, but had not also received the books, I should have had no further evidence as to the truth of my visions, which might also have been considered as merely productions of a diseased imagination."

Then he raised his voice and spoke in a bold manner:—

"I have received the immediate command from God in His presence: the will of Heaven rests with me. Although thereby I should meet with calamity, difficulties, and suffering, yet I am resolved to act. By disobeying the heavenly command, I would only rouse the anger of God; and are not these books the foundation of all true doctrines contained in other books?"

Under this conviction, Sui-tshuen, when preaching the new doctrine to others, made use of his own visions and the books, as reciprocally evidencing the truth of each other. He revered the books highly, and if any one wished to read them, he urgently told them not to alter or mark them in any manner, because, said he, it is written therein, "Jehovah's word is correct" (Ps. xxxiii. 4).

The small volumes, "Good Words for Exhorting the Age," that have exercised such a wonderful effect upon a great proportion of the Chinese, through the individual acts of Hung-sui-tshuen, were the production of Liang Afah, one of Dr. Milne's Chinese converts. Consequently it may be argued that contact with Europeans has been instrumental in producing the great Ti-ping revolution, and that to Dr. Milne and his convert, Liang Afah, may be attributed the honour of being agents in converting Hung-sui-tshuen and in originating the first Christian movement in modern Asia.

Although, through the foreign idiom, want of commentaries, and use of pronouns (unintelligible through the absence of the relative), Hung-sui-tshuen, as well as his earlier converts, misunderstood some parts of Liang Afah's volumes, still it is indisputable that the grand truths of Christianity were fully and completely appreciated by them. As the Bishop of Victoria has written:—"Stung with a sense of injustice, and feeling the full weight of disappointment, he found his knowledge of Confucian lore no longer the road to office and distinction. It was at such a critical season of the future hero's career that the truths of the Holy Scriptures were presented to his notice, and the pure doctrines of Christianity arrested his mind."

Hung-sui-tshuen, after some time, again returned to his teachership in the other village, leaving Hung-jin to expound and study the new doctrine. Sui-tshuen's own relatives were soon converted from idolatry and received baptism.

With his few followers he now experienced the usual worldly effects of devout opposition to the sinful and idolatrous practices of neighbours. Hung and his friends lost their scholastic employment and became very poor. Unable longer to maintain themselves at home, they determined to visit other districts and preach the true doctrine, hoping to support themselves by the sale of a few articles they carried with them for the purpose.

Hung, Fung-yun-san, and two other friends left their native villages and started upon a proselytizing mission to the independent tribes of Miau-tze. Passing through the village of Hung's relatives, the Le family, they converted and baptized several of them. Afterwards Hung-jin was engaged as teacher at this place (Clear-far), and in course of time baptized upwards of fifty persons.

Sui-tshuen and his friends continued their journey, everywhere preaching the new doctrine, teaching men to worship the one God, Jehovah, who sent his Son to atone for the sins of the world; and in every place they found some willing to accept their words. Into the wild and mountainous regions of the Miau-tze, Hung and Fung-yun-san journeyed alone, their friends having left them. They were fortunate enough to meet with a teacher who kept a school for Chinese instruction to the aborigines. Being ignorant of the Miau-tze dialect, after converting the schoolmaster and leaving a few tracts with him, they continued their journey to a part of Kwang-si where Hung had relatives.

Hung at last reached the village of his cousin Wang, and at this place preached with such devout eloquence as not only to convert hundreds to Christianity, but to cause many to believe that he and Yun-san were descended from heaven to preach the true doctrine.

To relieve his cousin from the support of so many guests, two converts of the Hung family having likewise arrived, he ordered Yun-san and the others to return to Kwang-tung. Fung-yun-san, however, was moved to continue teaching the Gospel; therefore, although the two returned, he remained preaching by the roadside. Meeting with some workmen he knew, he journeyed with them to a place named Thistle Mount, where, assisting them in their work, he at the same time taught them the way to immortal life.

Some of the workmen, convinced by Yun-san's preaching, went to their employer and informed him. The master engaged Yun-san as teacher of his school, and was himself soon baptized. Yun-san remained in the neighbourhood of Thistle Mount several years, and preached with great zeal and success; so that a large number of persons, whole families of various surnames and clans, were baptized. They formed congregations among themselves, gathering together for religious worship, and became soon extensively known under the name of "the congregation of the worshippers of God." In the meanwhile Hung-sui-tshuen returned home, and greatly displeased Fung-yun-san's relations by having returned without him. During 1845-46 Hung remained at home, employed as village teacher. He wrote many essays, discourses, and odes upon religious subjects, all of which were afterwards improved and printed in the "Imperial Declaration of Ti-ping," at Nankin.

Hung-sui-tshuen unceasingly continued his preaching of Christianity, baptizing many people who had learned to believe in God and our Saviour. He often met Hung-jin, still a teacher at the village Clear-far, once expressing his hatred of the tyrant Manchoo thus:—

"God has divided the kingdoms of the world, and made the ocean to be a boundary for them, just as a father divides his states among his sons; every one of whom ought to reverence the will of his father, and quietly manage his own property. Why should now these Manchoos forcibly enter China, and rob their brothers of their estate?"

Again, at a later period he said:—

"If God will help me to recover our estate, I ought to teach all nations to hold every one its own possessions, without injuring or robbing one another; we will have intercourse in communicating true principles and wisdom to each other, and receive each other with propriety and politeness; we will serve together one common heavenly Father, and honour together the doctrines of one common heavenly Brother, the Saviour of the world; this has been the wish of my heart since the time when my soul was taken up to heaven."

It is a pity the monarchs of Europe and their statesmen possess not the sentiments of the "Coolie King."

In the latter part of the year 1846, a Chinaman named Moo arrived at Hung's village from Canton. He informed him missionaries were preaching the true doctrine in that city. Sui-tshuen and his cousin Hung-jin were unable to visit the city, being engaged by their schools. Moo, upon his return to Canton, mentioned to a Chinese assistant of Mr. Roberts (missionary) the existence of the God-worshippers. This assistant having written and invited Hung and his cousin to Canton, in 1847 they visited that city, and studied Christianity under Mr. Roberts and other missionaries. Upon the expiration of one month they returned to their village with two converts; they all preached here a short time, and then went back to Canton, Hung-jin remaining at home. For some time Hung-sui-tshuen continued his studies in Canton; but at last, through the intrigues of some of Mr. Roberts' assistants, who became jealous of his superior talent, he left that city, and started upon a tour to Kwang-si, in search of his friend Fung-yun-san.

After a journey of much suffering, by reason of his poverty, Sui-tshuen at last reached the abode of his cousin Wang. He soon heard of Yun-san's earnest and successful career at "Thistle Mount;" and, rejoicing, joined him, preaching the Gospel and teaching everywhere.

These primitive Christians soon numbered two thousand, and were increasing day by day. Rapidly the surrounding country came under the influence of the new doctrine. "Men of great influence, and graduates of the first and second degrees, with great numbers of their clans, joined the congregation."

Hung-sui-tshuen, upon his arrival, immediately replaced their former books with copies of the Bible he had brought from Canton; reserving only such parts as were of the New Testament.

Ere long commenced the iconoclastic impulse that has since proved one of the greatest characteristics of the Ti-ping revolution. In the department of Siang, Kwang-se, an idol named "Kan-wang-ye" had long been celebrated, the natives far and near believing in its power. Hung-sui-tshuen becoming acquainted with their grossly superstitious and ignorant veneration for this idol, was greatly enraged, and with three friends, including Fung-yun-san, started for the temple. Reaching the place, they found the idol of a dreadful and imposing aspect; nothing daunted, Sui-tshuen with a stick dashed the idol to pieces, destroying its fine raiment and the vessels of spices and incense.

When the people became aware of this desecration of their idol, they set about apprehending the perpetrators. A young boy becoming, as they thought, possessed by the demon, told them not to molest the destroyers. The people therefore desisted, and this event greatly advanced the reputation of Hung-sui-tshuen, soon leading to an important addition to his followers.

The iconoclastic zeal thus introduced was quickly followed up by the destruction of many images. Upon this the officials, for the first time, came into contact with them, and Fung-yun-san and another were imprisoned, mainly through the malignancy of a rich graduate named Wang, who bribed the magistrate for that purpose. Eventually, the God-worshippers induced the same official to release their friends, but only Fung-yun-san was restored to them; the other had expired in prison, through the brutal treatment of his Manchoo jailers.

About this time—the latter part of 1848—Hung-sui-tshuen's father died, at the age of seventy-three. He had long given over the errors of idolatry, and had received Christian baptism. Upon his death-bed he admonished his children, saying:—"I am now ascending to heaven: after my decease, you must not call any Buddhist priests, or perform any heathen ceremonies, but merely worship God, and pray to him."

At the end of 1848, Hung-sui-tshuen and his friend Fung-yun-san left the congregation of God-worshippers at Thistle Mount, and returned to their homes.

About the middle of 1849 they again set out for their friends in Kwang-si. At the end of this year, during his absence, the first son of Hung-sui-tshuen was born; at the instant of his birth the following singular circumstance took place:—"Thousands of birds, as large as ravens and as small as magpies, made their appearance. They continued long hovering about in the air, and finally settled in the trees behind the dwelling of Sui-tshuen. These birds remained in the neighbourhood of the village about one month, to the astonishment of the people, who said that the crowd of birds came to do homage to the new-born king."

Upon their arrival, Hung-sui-tshuen and Yun-san were joyfully received by the God-worshippers. They now heard of singular occurrences having taken place among the brethren during their absence. It appeared that, often while engaged in prayer, one or other of them was seized by a sort of fit, and falling to the ground in a state of ecstasy, was moved by the spirit, and uttered extraordinary words of exhortation, reproof, or prophecy. The more remarkable of these rhapsodies were noted down, and reserved for the inspection of Hung-sui-tshuen. Those he principally pronounced as true were uttered by one Yang-sui-tshin, who afterwards became one of the principal Ti-ping chiefs. This same Yang was said to possess the power of healing sickness by intercession for the afflicted, many having been cured in a wonderful manner, after prayer to God.

Hung-sui-tshuen compelled his followers to observe strict order, and although Fung-yun-san was the original chief and founder of the congregation, they all, with one accord, acknowledged the superiority of the former; electing him as their leader, as well for his personal merit as his extraordinary ability to command and organize a strict discipline among so heterogeneous a multitude as themselves.

At this time, Hung prohibited the use of opium, and even tobacco, and all intoxicating drinks, and the Sabbath was religiously observed. About the same period he sent to Kwang-tung for his whole family, giving as his reason, that a pestilence would shortly visit the earth, and carry off the unbelievers. Singularly enough, some parts of Kwang-si were visited by a malignant distemper, whereby the number of his adherents was greatly increased, many believing they escaped disease merely by joining the God-worshippers.

About the end of the year 1850, a civil war broke out between the Punti men and the Hakkas. Although at first the Hakkas were victorious, being a more hardy and adventurous people than the Puntis, the superior numbers of the latter soon prevailed, who, not contented with defeating the enemy, followed up the victory by even destroying their habitations. In dire distress, the Hakkas sought a refuge among the God-worshippers, willingly adopting their religion.

So great a celebrity had the God-worshippers attained in Kwang-si, that not only the Hakkas came to them, but many outlaws, who refused allegiance to the Manchoo; and all persons in distress, or in any way afflicted, together with their families.

With a far-seeing discernment, Hung-sui-tshuen had long expected the course of events that at last resulted from the presence of so many various elements, for the most part obnoxious to the Government. His plans were arranged, his resolution fixed, and he only awaited a favourable opportunity to act. The following ode, which he composed about this time, affords an index of his intentions:—