This ode is highly significant to the Chinese. Hung alludes to the many bands of robbers rising like the vapours on the mountain tops; he expresses his intention to allow them to fight and fatigue each other, when he would easily become their master,—such being the plan expressed by the founder of the Ming dynasty in his song—comparing himself to the aster, a flower that only begins to blossom when others have passed away; and, after they have ceased to contend, remains undisputed master of the field.

The defeat of the Hakkas ere long realized Sui-tshuen's predictions. The God-worshippers gradually became involved in the quarrels of their new allies, and at last were not only accused of annoying the worship of others, and destroying their idols, but also of helping the outlaws and fostering rebellious intentions against the usurping dynasty. Sui-tshuen and Yun-san at this period left "Thistle Mount," and retired to the privacy of a friend's house situated in a mountainous recess. The Manchoo soldiers were sent against them here; but, afraid to enter the glen, contented themselves with blockading the pass, sure of the ultimate capture of the inmates. "At this critical moment it is reported that Yang-sui-tshin, in a state of ecstasy, revealed to the brethren of Thistle Mount the impending danger of their beloved chiefs, and exhorted them to hasten to their rescue." A considerable body marched against the soldiers who watched the pass, routed them with ease, and Sui-tshuen and Yun-san were carried off in triumph.

Hung-sui-tshuen now concentrated all his followers, who had already converted their goods into money, and formed a common treasury. They were thus prepared, if necessary, for the emergency of flight. Fear for the safety of themselves and families quickly brought the entire congregation of the God-worshippers together. "Old and young, rich and poor, men of influence and education, graduates of the first and second degrees, with their families and adherents, all gathered round the chiefs. Wei-ching alone brought with him about one thousand individuals of his clan."

Previously to this, the God-worshippers had suffered much persecution from the local authorities, many being imprisoned and killed by want and ill-treatment. Soon the jealous fears of the Manchoo officials led them to send troops against a native movement which they knew full well they had good cause to dread by reason of their own tyrannical rule.

Hostilities having once commenced, a bold and energetic course became imperative. A strong body of soldiers being on the march for their present position, Hung-sui-tshuen prepared to receive them. Abandoning Thistle Mount, he took possession of the market-town Lieu-chu, close at hand. This small city was surrounded by a broad river, protecting it from sudden attack, which Sui-tshuen soon fortified so strongly that, when the soldiers arrived, it was impregnable. From this place Sui-tshuen sent messengers into Kwang-tung, calling upon the remaining relatives of the two clans, Hung and Fung, to join him in Kwang-si. Before they could do this, Sui-tshuen, from want of provisions, was compelled to move his camp. This he effected in a fine strategic manner. To deceive the Imperialists as to his real intentions, he placed a number of women and boys belonging to the town in a house close to the river, and in the direction of the besiegers' camp, ordering them to beat the drums throughout the following day; while he, with his entire force, evacuated the place at night without giving the foe the slightest suspicion of his movement.

The Imperialists, as soon as they discovered the trick that had been played upon them, detached light troops in pursuit; but these, venturing too closely upon the rear of the retreating forces, were repulsed with severe loss. The Imperialists now, according to their usual habits, commenced to vent their cowardly rage upon the unoffending inhabitants by burning several thousand houses, and plundering indiscriminately.

They slaughtered numbers of the townspeople upon the slightest suspicion that they were God-worshippers, or even friendly disposed towards them.

"Many of these unhappy victims evinced great self-possession, and resignation to their fate. One named Tsen said to the soldiers, 'Why do you delay? If you are to kill me, then do so,—I fear not to die.' He, with many others, refused to kneel down, and received the death-blow in an upright posture. These cruelties greatly incensed the populace; and many, who otherwise would have remained quietly at home, desirous to worship God without taking part in the insurrection, were thus forced to leave their abodes and join the army of Hung-sui-tshuen."

After evacuating the town of Lieu-chu, Hung took up his new position at a large village, Thai-tsun, and at this place received very considerable additions to his force. Two female rebel chiefs of great valour, named respectively Kew-urh and Szu-san, each bringing about two thousand followers, here joined him, submitting to his authority and adopting the religions opinions of his people. About this time eight chiefs of the San-hoh-hwui, or Triad Society—a confederation of many years' standing, sworn to expel the Manchoos and free China of their hateful presence—entered into negotiations with Hung-sui-tshuen to join his army, which he agreed to upon condition that they would conform to the worship of the true God. He sent teachers to them, and when they were sufficiently instructed, permitted them to join him.

Unfortunately, it now happened that out of sixteen teachers, one of the number was found guilty of peculation, by having withheld from the public treasury his share of the presents they had received from the Triad chiefs for their instruction. Having often before been convicted of violating their regulations, this last offence was no sooner proved against him than Sui-tshuen and his own relatives condemned and punished him, according to the full rigour of their law, by decapitation. When the chiefs of the Triads found that one who had just been their teacher was capitally punished for so slight a transgression, they became uncomfortable, and said:—"Your laws seem to be rather too strict; we shall, perhaps, find it difficult to keep them; and upon any small transgression you would, perhaps, kill us also."

Upon which, seven of them departed with their men, and afterwards surrendering to the Imperialists, turned their arms against the God-worshippers. One chief—Lo-thai-kang—preferred remaining with the latter.

The varied elements of his followers—the simple God-worshipper, the discontented Hakka, with Triads, outlaws, and other known opponents to the Manchoo rule—were all destined, by Hung-sui-tshuen's comprehensive mind, soon to establish for themselves an important political existence. The Bishop of Victoria wrote:—

Before the close of the year 1851 the standard of a national revolt was raised, and a Chinese dynasty proclaimed. Hung-sui-tshuen again moved his camp, marching upon and capturing the city of Yung-ngan. He was here elected Emperor by the enthusiastic acclamation of his followers. It is said Sui-tshuen offered the supreme dignity to each of the four chiefs, Fung-yun-san, Yang-sui-tshin, Siau-chau-kwui, and Wai-ching (the last, a powerful leader of some thousands of his own clan); and that, only after their refusal and unanimous election of himself, he accepted power, appointing them princes of the four quarters; the position in which they afterwards became known to Europeans. From this period the style God-worshippers became relinquished in favour of the title of the new dynasty, Ti-ping-tien-kwoh.

CHAPTER III.

About the beginning of the year 1860 the rapid success of the Ti-ping revolution excited considerable attention. From the unfavourable impressions I entertained with regard to the Manchoo Imperialists, I felt very desirous to become acquainted with their adversaries, whose professed intention was not only to subvert the tyrannical foreign dynasty, but to overthrow national idolatry and establish Christianity throughout China. I therefore determined to relinquish my profession for a more unfettered life on shore, which would afford me an opportunity of seeing something of the Ti-pings—a resolution which gathered strength from the fact that Marie and her relatives were about to leave Hong-Kong and take up their abode at Shanghae.

I had long observed that although the majority of people condemned the revolution, they were infinitely less worthy of credence than those who supported it.

The anti-Ti-ping and pro-Manchoo party comprised:—All persons who were in any way connected with the iniquitous opium traffic; all British placemen and officials who represented Lord Elgin's politics or Chinese treaties; all foreign mercenaries, whether interested in the Chinese customs or army; all Roman Catholics, but especially Jesuits and French; all missionaries who felt jealous of the Ti-ping Christianity, because they could not arrogate to themselves a direct credit for its propagation; and, lastly, all merchants and traders, who, trusting to make a fortune in a few years, and, being philosophers of the "After me the Deluge" school, cared not at all for the future of China, or the vast question of its regeneration and Christianity, because the execution of those glorious reforms might interfere with their traffic.

The friends of the Ti-pings comprised:—Many humble, devout missionaries, who rejoiced at the result of their indirect contact with the Chinese; many large-minded, large-hearted men, who admired the cause of a people and the welfare of an oppressed nation more than the favourable articles of the Elgin treaty; all persons who deprecated Europeans becoming the hired mercenaries of the most corrupt Asiatic despotism in existence; and all merchants not addicted to opium-smuggling, but satisfied with more honourable and righteous branches of commerce.

I thus found that interested persons were adverse to the revolution, while those who were favourable to it were disinterested. This is no psychological phenomenon. The explanation is very easy. It was simply a question of selfishness and dollars versus philanthropy and liberality. I must confess that, until I became personally acquainted with the Ti-pings, the reports of their maligners (preposterous and exaggerated as they were) made me very suspicious of the people they abused, although I had already begun to sympathize with them.

Before resigning my appointment, I obtained a berth as chief mate in a small steamer which was under the command of an old brother officer of mine, who had lately quitted the same service. I consequently embarked and proceeded with Marie and her friends to Shanghae. The little steamer I joined was employed upon the inland waters of the Shanghae district, trading to the Ti-ping territory for silk, so that my wishes for a meeting were soon to be gratified. The owners of the steamer were Chinese, though nominally British, in order to obtain a register, and so we had things very much our own way on board.

The evening before we were to start for the interior, a boat-load of cargo came alongside—at least, what I imagined to be such. To my utter amazement, when I mentioned its arrival to the skipper, I found out that the cargo was no other than boxes of specie.

"What!" I exclaimed, "carry treasure amongst the rebels?"

"Why, of course we do; what in the world should prevent us?" said the skipper.

"Well," I replied, "it is singular for any one to send boxes of dollars right into the hands of people they term 'hordes of banditti,' 'bloodthirsty marauders,' 'desolators,' &c."

"My dear fellow, that's all bosh: don't you see if outsiders are made to believe the Ti-pings to be so bad, they will not trust themselves, or their money, amongst them; so those who know better are able to monopolize the silk trade."

"What! are all those reports about the Ti-pings false, then?" I asked.

"To be sure they are, or how do you suppose any silk could be obtained?"

This reply satisfied me completely. If the Ti-pings were "desolators," it was certain no silk could be left, or produced, while, if they were "marauders" and "brigands," it was equally certain no one dare carry large sums of money into their territory to trade. I was not a little pleased with this conclusion; before long I had ample proof of the total injustice and gross falsehood of nearly every charge brought against the revolutionists.

I received on board about 40,000 taels (over £13,000 sterling) during the evening, with a Chinaman to negotiate for the purchase of the silk when we should arrive in the silk country.

Early in the morning we got under weigh, and proceeded on our voyage, past Shanghae and up the Wong-poo river. We no sooner got clear of the shipping and crowd of junks anchored above the city, than I received orders to have all our armament put in order and ready for immediate use. For so small a vessel she was very well armed with a 9 lb. pivot gun on each broadside, a swivel 4 lb. in the bow, and another right aft. Our crew consisted of eight European seamen, myself, captain, second mate, and engineer; besides four Chinese firemen, a Chinese engineer, a cook, and our European steward; we also carried a member of our European firm as supercargo.

The Wong-poo river for some fifty miles preserves an average breadth of about 250 yards, after which it rapidly decreases, and loses itself in a series of interminable lagoons. The whole country in this direction (due S.W. of Shanghae) is flat and alluvial, everywhere intersected by creeks and canals, and mostly in a high state of cultivation.

The tide being strong against us, we did not reach the last imperialist city, Soong-Kong, about twenty miles from Shanghae in a direct line, till mid-day. Soon after leaving port, the Manchoo troops commenced their annoyance. Every station we passed the gunboats would come off and attempt to stop us, their crews shouting and yelling like fiends, sometimes even firing blank cartridge to arrest our passage. One squadron, bolder than the rest, after we had passed Soong-Kong and were approaching the limits of Imperialism, thought fit to send us a dose of iron, and although we took the previous saluting very quietly, this was rather too striking an example of their favour to pass without return. I therefore brought one of our 9-pounders to bear, and gave them its warning message just over their heads, not wishing to hurt them unless compelled, especially as all their shot passed wide of us, excepting one that cut a funnel stay. Not satisfied with this, the whole squadron—some seven or eight—put off from the bank and pulled after us, each opening fire with its bow gun. Our captain called all hands to their stations, those not employed at the guns being armed with Sharp's rifles; and, suddenly changing our course, we put right about, gave a cheer, and steamed at the Mandarin boats full speed. Directly this was done, and the Imperialists saw so many Europeans, and heard our terrific yell, they thought no more of "loot," or seizing us; but round they went, turned tail, and pulled off as desperately as they could, while those astern dashed to the bank and tumbled ashore one over the other in dire confusion and alarm, leaving their boats to take care of themselves or become the prize of the "foreign devils."

To give them a lesson, we contented ourselves by taking all their flags; and, setting the boats adrift on the stream, proceeded on our course.

These Chinese gunboats, when well manned, form very effective mosquito flotillas. They are about fifty feet long and seven broad, are manned by about twenty-five men, and pull from ten to twenty oars a-side. They are usually armed with a gun (from 4 to 24-pounder) mounted upon a platform in the bow, and another in the stern. They are very shallow, sit light upon the water, and pull very fast; they are also furnished with the usual bamboo sails, but only go well before the wind. These war-boats are almost innumerable, being found in large numbers all through the rivers and inland waters of China; and since the British arsenals have been thrown open to the Manchoo government, they have become formidable from the guns they have been supplied with, and the instruction their crews have received from English artillerists in using them.

When we came to the narrow part of the river, we were exposed to continual insult and annoyance from the Chinese on the banks, who, not content with assailing us with every opprobrious epithet in their vocabulary—the least being "Yang quitzo" (foreign devils), frequently pelted us with mud and stones. Soldiers, gun-boat braves, and villagers seemed striving to emulate each other in illustrating their hatred of the foreigners who, having allied themselves to the Manchoo government, had only just succeeded in driving the Ti-pings away and re-establishing the rule of the Tartars; placing our miserable assailants in possession of territory they could never have reconquered themselves—and this is how they displayed their gratitude!

The British and French had but lately made war upon the Ti-pings, having driven them from Shanghae and its neighbourhood, therefore the least we might have expected was common civility from our allies; they, however, seemed to think otherwise, by treating us as enemies.

Towards dusk we approached the last Imperialist station, between which and the first Ti-ping outpost stretched a neutral ground of a few miles. As we could not reach the Ti-ping territory before dark, it was necessary to anchor for the night; but this we dare not attempt while in the Imperialist jurisdiction. Since the reinstatement of the Imperialists, piracy had become incessant, so much so, that a silk boat could scarcely ever make a trip without being attacked, many having been plundered and the Europeans in charge murdered. The whole country swarmed with robbers, and the river with pirates; the first being the Imperialist soldiery, and the latter mostly Imperialist gunboats. In consequence of this, we determined to reach the neutral ground, the commencement of which was a small and shallow lake, where we could lay comparatively safe from enemies, whereas, if we remained on the river, we should be at the mercy of any who might attack us from its banks, here scarcely sixty yards apart.

Amidst the curses and yells of the last outlying picket of Imperialists we shot into the lake, and anchored in its centre to wait for daylight. The night passed over without any particular excitement, though the watch on deck had frequently to warn off with a shot or two some boats hovering about. Getting under weigh in the morning, we soon came to the first Ti-ping position—a few houses with a palisade round them, and a gingall battery held by a small detachment of troops. I was much struck by the pleasant style in which they communicated with us. In place of making an offensive demonstration of force, and conducting their inquiries with the gross and insulting arrogance of the Imperialists, they simply put off a small boat, from which one officer boarded us, who behaved in a strikingly friendly and courteous manner while pursuing his investigations. When satisfied as to our intentions, he gave us a pass to proceed, and took his departure, leaving me with a very favourable impression of my first interview with a real, live Ti-ping.

After passing several small villages, in all of which the inhabitants were busily at work gathering in their crops, and apparently much better off than the Imperialist peasantry on the other side of the lake, we came to the extensive village of Loo-chee, some sixty miles from Shanghae by the river. At this place there seemed a large and varied trade. Silk boats, country boats, and Shanghae boats, were moored off the village in great numbers, all filled with merchandise, for which there seemed a good and ready market. The crowds of people about were all well dressed, the shops were fully stocked, and in every way the village seemed in a most flourishing condition. One singular circumstance which I noticed was the total absence of mendicants; though an ordinary Chinese market village of the same extent and prosperity would have swarmed with them, here not one was to be seen. Outside the village, the fields were alive with labourers gathering in the rich and heavy crops, it being harvest time; while far as the eye could reach stretched plains covered with the ripe grain, glistening and golden in the morning sun. In vain I gazed around for some trace of the "desolaters." If I looked to the village, I saw nothing but crowds of well-to-do, busy, complacent-looking Chinamen, and great piles of merchandise just landed from the boats; if I looked to the country, I perceived nothing but the richness and beauty of nature; yet this was a part of Ti-pingdom, and all the people I saw were Ti-pings or subject to them. At last, a little outside the village, I noticed a heap of bricks, such as the Chinese build their houses with; going up to it, I found the track of the "desolaters" after all; for this proved to be the remains of an immense joss-house they had destroyed—not a stone was left standing upon another; in their iconoclastic zeal they had literally crushed the Buddhist temple into the dust, for I could not find one whole brick amongst the débris, although it covered more than an acre of ground. Here and there, amongst the tall, rank grass, peeped out the mutilated remnants of the former divinities of the temple. I began to think this "desolating" and "murdering" à la Ti-ping not quite so bad as some parties had represented.

We remained at Loo-chee a few hours, while our supercargo and interpreter made inquiries about the silk. I observed but few Ti-ping soldiers in the village; the six or seven who rowed an officer off to us constituted quite half the garrison. They were all attached to the Loo-chee custom-house, and the officer who boarded us was le chef de la douane. While strolling through the village I was astonished by the very friendly and unrestrained manners of the people; I was seized upon and carried into many houses to partake of tea and Chinese wine, the Ti-pings actually struggling with each other to get me into their respective dwellings. The kindly behaviour of the soldiers was the more remarkable from the totally opposite conduct of the Imperialist braves, whose feeling towards us we had so lately experienced. Yet the Imperialists were our allies, and we were assisting them against the Ti-pings. It was even possible that friends or relatives of these Ti-ping soldiers had been killed by the British and French before Shanghae; still, anomalous and incredible as it must seem, our friends, the Imperialists, treated us as though we were enemies, and our enemies, the Ti-pings, treated us as friends.

At last, amid the hearty adieux of the natives, we steamed away from Loo-chee for another village, some twelve miles farther inland, where we expected to find silk.

Some three years later I visited Loo-chee again. A letter which I wrote upon the occasion appeared in the Friend of China, a Shanghae newspaper, and in the month of October, 1863, was reproduced, accompanied by the following observations:—

"At this juncture, when Gordon declares the Taepings to be incapable of government (he never had an opportunity of judging, or knowing anything about them, except how they could fight), it is not out of place to reproduce the writing of the only respectable foreigner we know in the Taeping fighting service—a service of which, in so far as intercourse with the Taeping goes, he has had several years' experience."

The letter referred to was as follows:—

"The general appearance of the country lately wrested from the Ti-pings by the British, and again given up to Imperial rule, cannot be passed without a feeling of pity for its sad alteration. Throughout the whole extent of this country, Europeans are now exposed to insult, the natives being as constrained and repulsive as is usual in Mandarin localities. Indeed, they are a vagabond and scanty lot, many large villages now exhibiting hardly one person to each house. The crops alone are in a flourishing condition—reared by Ti-pings for the Imperial commissariat—a rich harvest indeed.

"Custom-houses, or rather squeeze-houses, are springing up in every direction, and the poor Chinese trader is in a perfect whirlwind of mystification as to whom he ought to pay and whom not. The baneful effect of all this is very visible. There is an indescribable gloom and stagnation over the land, and everything on it. Even the birds appear less happy, for they do not chirp as of old. Of trade—there is none. The extensive village of Loo-chee, about sixty miles from Shanghae by water, is the last Imperialist station in this direction. When I was last here, some two and a half years ago, all was joyous as a marriage feast. It was a place of much trade and importance; now the only things to be remarked are a few piratical war-boats, with their usual villanous-looking crews, under the Imperial flag. Where formerly exuberant life and happiness were found, all now is wretchedness. Between Loo-chee and the nearest Ti-ping station comes a neutral ground of some ten miles in extent. This is almost a desert, and well it may be, when the Imperialists scour over it. At last we reached the first Ti-ping outpost. What a contrast! Now, indeed, all is smiling happiness. In place of insult we meet kind looks and salutations of welcome. Even the children run along the banks with cries of delight. Poor little things, they know not but that they may soon be homeless, bereft, perhaps, of parents, or even life itself."

When the above letter was written, the Imperialists, with the assistance of foreigners, had only lately succeeded in recapturing the village of Loo-chee; shortly afterwards I again passed the place, and the only change to be observed was a new Buddhist temple in course of erection upon the ruins of the old. A striking example of the effect of British intervention: the Ti-pings destroy the heathen temples and establish the Holy Scriptures on their sites, but the Manchoos build them up again, and exterminate the worshippers of the True God.

So great a confidence had my friend, the Captain, in the Ti-pings, that directly we came to their territory he told me I might discharge and clean all our arms, and put them away until we re-entered the Imperialist lines.

Before arriving at our destination, we passed many villages, all thriving and apparently doing considerable trade; one especially attracted my attention—it was a very large walled village, named San-zar, and seemed to be the centre of an immense commerce. This place was fortified and well garrisoned. We stopped there and took in a supply of provisions, which were very cheap. I particularly remember San-zar, because I found in it the best sponge cake I ever tasted in China. The village was very extensive, containing upwards of five thousand houses; the shops were numerous, and at the time I first visited it every article of Chinese consumption was to be found in abundance. I passed through it lately—upon my return to England—and found everything sadly changed; the Imperialists were close at hand, and the inhabitants had fled away; the shops were closed, excepting here and there where some trader, more venturesome or avaricious than his fellows, seemed determined to drive his business till the last; the streets were silent and trafficless; in some parts the depopulation was so complete as to strongly remind me of Goldsmith's "Deserted Village."

Shortly after leaving San-zar, we arrived at San-le-jow, the termination of our voyage, a fortified position, three Chinese miles (one English) from the city of Pim-bong. San-le-jow is situated within the silk district, into which we should have proceeded further, but the creek was spanned by a bridge too small for our vessel to pass. We were therefore compelled to remain at anchor, and send boats in for the silk. All the specie was placed in them, comparatively unprotected, only the supercargo and two of our crew going in charge of it; and yet it was taken into the very heart of Ti-pingdom in perfect safety.

We remained about three weeks at San-le-jow, while our supercargo was absent purchasing silk; and during this time I determined to see as much of Ti-pingdom and the Ti-pings as possible. I constantly visited the neighbouring villages to endeavour to ascertain what feeling the country people entertained for the Ti-ping rule. I was pleased to find them in every instance completely happy and contented; and was particularly struck by the gratified manner in which they would attract my notice to their long hair—the emblem of the Ti-ping and freedom, as opposed to the Manchoo and the shaven-headed, tail-wearing badge of slavery they inflict upon the Chinese. During my rambles I took my servant, A-ling, with me, and, as he was a capital interpreter, I was enabled to fully investigate all I cared for or found interesting.

As San-le-jow was only about twenty miles distant from the important provincial capital, Soo-chow, I engaged a boat, took A-ling with me, and, reaching the city, spent seven or eight days there very pleasantly.

I have visited many parts of Asia, but never in my life, not even amongst people of my own race, have I met with the kindness, hospitality, and earnest friendship I experienced from the Ti-pings. I shall never forget the deep impression I received at the moment I first met them: it was instantaneous, I required no further knowledge or explanation; I felt a mysterious sympathy in their favour, and, from that day to this, my frequent intercourse with them has only strengthened and cemented my first opinions.

The testimony of persons who have themselves seen the Ti-pings is unanimous as to their striking superiority over the Imperialists. Not only is their personal appearance infinitely more pleasing, but their entire character, physically and morally, exhibits the same wonderful superiority.

All Europe has for many years considered the Chinese the most absurd and unnatural people in the world; their shaven head, tail, oblique eyes, grotesque costume, and the deformed feet of their women, have long furnished subjects for the most ludicrous attempts of caricaturists; while the atmosphere of seclusion, superstition, and arrogance, with which they delight to surround themselves, has always excited the ridicule and contempt of Europeans. Now, among the Ti-pings, these things, with the exception of the physiognomy, have all disappeared, and even their features seem improved—probably through their mental and bodily relief from thraldom.

One of the most remarkable contrasts between the Ti-pings and their enslaved countrymen, the Imperialists, and the first to attract the observation of foreigners, is their complete difference of appearance and costume. The Chinese are known as a comparatively stupid-looking, badly-dressed race; the disfigurement of the shaved head not a little causing this. One presents a type of the whole—a dull, apathetic countenance, without expression or intelligence, except what resembles the half-cunning, half-fearful manner of slaves; their energies seem bound, their hopes and spirits crushed by wrong and oppression. The Ti-pings, on the other hand, immediately impress an observer by their intelligence, continual inquisitiveness, and thirst for knowledge. It is, indeed, utterly impossible, judging from their different intellectual capacities, to come to the conclusion that they are both natives of the same country—a difference more marked cannot be conceived. The Ti-pings are a clever, candid, and martial people, rendered peculiarly attractive by the indescribable air of freedom which they possess. Where you would see the servile Tartar-subdued Chinamen continually cringing, the Ti-pings exhibit, even in the face of death, nothing but the erect, stately carriage of free men.

It is a singular fact that the handsomest men and women in China are to be seen in the Ti-ping array. This may possibly be partly the result of their difference of dress and of wearing the hair, but the main cause is undoubtedly the ennobling effect of their religion and freedom. The dress consists of very broad petticoat trousers, mostly of black silk, bound round the waist with a long sash, which also contains their sword and pistols; a short jacket, generally red, reaching just to the waist and fitting tight to the body, forms their upper garment. But it is the style in which they wear their hair that forms their principal ornament: they allow it to grow without cutting, it is then plaited into a queue at the back of the head, into which is worked a tail of red silk cord, and it is always worn wound round the head in the form of a turban, the end, a large tassel, hanging down on the left shoulder. Their shoes are of varied colour, with flowers and embroidery worked all over them (the boots of Imperialists are quite different, being not only slightly of another shape, but always plain).

During my subsequent intercourse with the Ti-pings I found the above costume the summer one of the soldiers; the body-guards of the different chiefs wear their own particular colours, the edges of the jacket being always embroidered and braided with a different one, forming a regular uniform. In the cold weather they mostly wear fur-jackets, or other warm garments. The colours of their clothing vary much, in some cases the jacket being black silk and the trousers white, and in others blue, black, white, red, or yellow, according to their different corps. Yellow is the colour of only the highest chiefs, or of their king. The chiefs all wear long outside dresses, reaching to nearly the feet, of either blue, red, or yellow silk, according to their rank. On the head they wear a silk scarf, or hood, with a jewel fastened to the front as the badge of their position. In hot weather one and all wear large straw hats very prettily embroidered, the crown quite small, and the brim about a foot broad, which gives them a very gay and singular appearance. The great chiefs, who are titled Wang (generalissimos, or governors of districts), have a much more costly and elaborate dress. Upon all occasions of importance they wear their state robes and coronets, and the appearance they present when so arrayed is really magnificent. Being almost invariably men of a very energetic and expressive mien, when attired in their long robes, covered with ancient Chinese designs, fabulous animals, or fancy patterns, all worked in gold, silver, and jewels, with their jewelled coronets, and with their gold embroidered shoes, it would be utterly impossible to imagine a more splendid or effective costume.

Many of the Ti-pings come from the province of Honan, and the Chinese say the natives of that part are the handsomest in China. The truth of this I fully believe, for having made it a particular point of inquiry to ascertain the native place of every Ti-ping I have met of more than ordinary appearance, I have invariably found the best-featured were either Honan men or came from the hilly parts of the Kiang-si province. Honan forms a central portion of China, and has long been remarkable for producing some of the best soldiers; but it is especially its braves, who man great numbers of the Mandarin gunboats which are used all through the inland waters, that are celebrated for their courage. The Honan people are easily distinguished by the lightness of their complexion; the shape of their nose, which is high and well-formed like the European; the largeness, and little approximation to the oblique, of their eyes; and their superior stature. In a few cases I have met men not inferior to any race in the world for beauty, while it would be difficult to imagine a more picturesque bearing than they present with their dark massive hair wound around their heads by scarlet silken fillets, so as to form a shade for their expressive eyes and animated countenances. Some of these youthful Honan Ti-pings are as well featured and handsome as an Andalusian beauty, their black eyes and long lashes, olive complexion, and beardless faces rendering the resemblance more striking.

Upon my arrival at Soo-chow I received the kindest reception, and obtained an audience of several of the principal chiefs in the city. But little trace of the former magnificence of the "Chinese Paris" remained; its present possessors had only captured the city a few months, and the sad traces of civil war were everywhere around. The Imperialist troops had themselves burned and devastated the once rich suburbs, and the Ti-pings, in their usual manner upon the capture of a city, had destroyed all public and private buildings of the Manchoo construction, or any that tended to remind them of the hateful Tartar occupation. New suburbs, however, were springing up in every direction, and a considerable trade likewise, all commerce being carried on outside the walls. Within the city itself, the destruction had been extensive, and numberless workmen were employed erecting handsome new dwellings, those for the principal chiefs being of the best description. No trade was permitted within the walls, a very necessary precaution in China, for otherwise the place would be instantly filled by numbers of the enemy disguised as traders, &c. In this the Ti-pings have only acted as every other dynasty during its commencement, all (the present Manchoo included) having pursued the same policy. Many persons ignorant of this, after visiting Ti-ping cities, have reported that the inhabitants never return to them from fear of the new rulers; but we must remember the late war in America and the occupation of Atlanta by the Federal troops, who compelled the inhabitants to leave the city; it will then be seen that the military occupation of fortified towns by the Ti-pings is much about the same as it is with people of our own race. Outside the ramparts a crowd of soldiers and labourers were hard at work throwing up fortifications, while, inside, others were converting the remaining streets into extensive barracks.

I found the chief in command was the Chung-wang, Le, who for the last few years had held the supreme position of Commander-in-Chief of all the Ti-ping forces. He very kindly granted me an audience, and made me live in his palace while I remained at Soo-chow, although he had only lately been driven from Shanghae, and hundreds of his men killed (rather say murdered, for they were slaughtered without the slightest justification) by the British.

I had long felt a desire to behold the celebrated leader of the Ti-ping forces, who, until the intervention of England, had been invincible, and now my wish was gratified. I no sooner found myself before the Chung-wang than I respected him—he appeared so unmistakably a master spirit, with the innate nobleness of presence of one born to command and govern.

For a chief of so exalted and powerful a position, and who, moreover, had received ample provocation to treat Englishmen as his deadliest enemies, Chung-wang received me with remarkable condescension and kindness. Whereas the meanest official understrapper of the Manchoo government would with the most insulting hauteur receive any foreigner (unless under coercion, as when the treaties have been arranged), and consider himself degraded by any contact, the Chung-wang, generalissimo of some four or five hundred thousand men, second personage in the Ti-ping government (being only inferior to the Tien-wang, the king), and Viceroy of the whole territory (at that period more than twice the size of England, and containing more than 70,000,000 inhabitants), advanced from his vice-regal chair, and shaking me by the hand in English style, made me be seated close to himself. He seemed about thirty-five years of age, though the trace of arduous mental and physical exertion gave him a rather worn and older appearance. His figure light, active, and wiry, was particularly well formed, though scarcely of the Chinese middle height; his bearing erect and dignified, his walk rapid but stately. His features were very strongly marked, expressive, and good, though not handsome according to the Chinese idea, being slightly of a more European cast than they admire; the nose straighter than usual among Chinese; the mouth small, almost delicate, and with the general shape of the jaw and sharply chiselled lips, expressive of great courage and determination. His complexion dark; but it was his brow and eyes that at once told the observer he beheld a great and remarkable man. It was not alone his singularly high and expansive forehead, but the eyebrows and eyes, which, instead of being placed obliquely, as is the usual characteristic of the Chinese, were quite dissimilar: the eyes were nearly straight, the only Chinese part being the shape of the eyelids; and the brows, placed high above them, were almost even, the inner, in place of the outer, ends being slightly elevated. This peculiarity I have never seen so prominent in any other Chinaman; I have seen a few natives of Honan approach to it a little, but it gave the Chung-wang an un-Chinese look.

His large eyes flashed incessantly, while the lids were always twitching. From his very energetic features, and the ceaseless nervous movement of his body (some part being continually on the move and restless, either the legs crossing or uncrossing, the feet patting the ground, or the hands clasping, unclasping, or fidgeting about, and all by sudden starts), no one would imagine he could possess such perfect coolness in battle; yet I have often since observed him in action, when, in spite of his apparent excitability, his self-possession was imperturbable, and his voice—always low and soft, with a musical flow of language, slightly affected by a wound he received from a piece of a British shell before Shanghae, in the month of August, 1860—unchanged, save being more rapid and decisive in moments of the greatest danger. When I obtained my first interview with the Chung-wang, I found him rather plainly dressed. Instead of the long robes and large coronets, constituting the state dress of all the superior chiefs, he was simply attired in an ordinary scarlet quilted jacket. On his head he wore a scarlet hood, of the usual shape, surmounted by a kind of undress coronet peculiar to himself, consisting of a large and valuable jewel in the front, with eight curious gold medallions, four in a row on each side.