Chapter 7: “Flee! Flee!”

“Though the Lord give you the bread of adversity and the water of affliction, yet... thine eyes shall see thy teachers; and thine ears shall hear a word behind thee, saying, This is the way, walk ye in it; when ye turn to the right hand and when ye turn to the left.”
WE reached Lu-ch’eng about 10 a.m. Tuesday, July 3. Our friends were not wholly surprised at seeing us back; and deeply thankful, when they heard our story, at seeing us at all. With themselves, the rumors on the street had been getting worse and worse—so much so that they had necessitated Mr. Cooper’s communicating with the Hsien. At our own station of Lu-an, it seemed that the situation was very precarious. Miss Gates had kept Mr. Cooper informed as to the state of things there, and was evidently feeling the strain of a position which at any moment might become critical.
We determined to make no halt, but to push on the remaining fifteen miles with what speed we might. The lad from Wu-an had undertaken at Li-ch’eng to go on before with a letter to Miss Gates and prepare her for our coming—a gracious provision of God’s providence, as Chi-fah could not possibly be spared for the service.
It was desirable to keep our return as quiet as possible, and to this end we reduced our luggage, leaving our more foreign-looking boxes at Lu-ch’eng. We also dispensed with an escort, as their appearance in the city would, we thought, create talk, and suggest a situation in connection with our return which it was well to keep out of sight as far as possible. As we once more bade each other farewell, we were all conscious that it had a deeper significance for each one than usual. Ere we were destined to meet again, four weeks hence, we were one and all to know, as never before, what it meant to drink of His cup, and to be baptized with His baptism.
The muleteers urged the animals, and we traveled well. The road was perfectly quiet, but we took the precaution of keeping our curtains down. Halfway lay a large village called Lan-shui, which had always been more or less hostile to us. Only quite recently they had attempted to drag Mrs. Dugald Lawson from her cart as she was passing through. Before coming in sight we made a detour, and so avoided them, happily without being discovered. Ten li from Lu-an we passed through the village of Kuan-ts’uen, an outstation of ours, where we had a chapel and a bright little band of Church members and inquirers. As we peeped through the curtain we saw several of the dear familiar faces on the street, and could not forbear revealing ourselves to exchange the Christian salutation of “P’ing-an!” (“Peace!”), and to commend them to the grace of God.
We dared not stay, however, for more than a passing word. An hour later we were entering (for the last time) the north gate of the city. All was quiet. It was intensely hot, and no one was about. So far as I could hear behind the curtain, the drivers were not once challenged by a passerby. Yes, we had entered unobserved. And now we were alongside our mission buildings. Oh, the goodness and mercy of our God We turned the corner into the “keh-lang” (or side street) where our more private entrance was, and a minute later our litters were standing within our own compound, and we within our own sweet home!
The reunion with our sister, Miss Gates, in view of the events that had happened since we parted, was an intense relief to us all. We learned that her path, not less than ours, had been an increasingly difficult and perilous one. The Boxer movement in the province had grown apace, and had spread to our own immediate neighborhood. Corps were being rapidly organized in every city; and in towns and villages recruiting was brisk. At T’uen-liu Hsien, sixty li off (twenty miles) a corps of 200 men had already been formed, and the Boxer chief entrusted with the work at Lu-an was daily expected in the city.
Not long after we left, rain processions had begun again to parade the streets. Owing to the Boxer rumors which were now circulating freely, together with the inflammatory placards they were posting up wholesale, these processions became a more than ordinary source of anxiety. Miss Gates decided that, should an emergency arise, it would be wiser for her to go into the Prefect’s yamen, as a removal to Lu-ch’eng would almost certainly be construed into flight—a construction which would result in swift disaster, not only to herself, but to the Lu-ch’eng community as well. Meantime, she took counsel with Mr. E. J. Cooper, and was in almost daily communication with him.
The Sunday before our arrival—that eventful July 1—these processions culminated in a grand function, which was attended in person by the Fu, the Hsien, and all the city notables. There was a legend to the effect that somewhere in the remote past a devotee of the village of Su-tien (about a mile south of the city) had at a time of excessive drought been divinely guided to a fountain in the neighborhood of Li-ch’eng, the water of which had the virtue of drawing down rain from heaven upon the locality to which it was brought. From thenceforth the discoverer and his family became famous in Su-tien. Whenever the season was unusually dry the fountain was resorted to by the head of the clan, a local deputation accompanying him with the village idol. The function in question was the reception of the sacred water outside the city, and the bringing it within the walls to the temple of the God of War, where with befitting ceremony it was laid up until it had proved its miraculous power.
As the procession would have to pass our premises to meet the returning deputation outside the north gate, the native Christians were apprehensive of evil. Not without reason; for the Su-tien folk bore us a special hatred from of old, and more than once had threatened us. They now gave it out openly that on returning from their pilgrimage they intended to attack the “Je-su t’ang,” and wreck it as they passed. The continued drought had been so definitely attributed to us by the Buddhist priests, that the thought had only to be suggested, they knew well, to find acceptance with the processionist mob. Moreover, the rumor of our having poisoned all the wells had been revived; so that, with such inflammatory material to work upon, the threat was simply, as spark to tinder.
Miss Gates considerately sent the native helpers and servants to their homes, retaining two only, who refused to leave her—Chong Sheng-min, and Chang P’ao-rï. Several of these, however, together with one or two inquirers, came in on the preceding Saturday purposely to share the time of trial with her, and to protect her, if need be, to the last. One of the latter, Li Tong-chü, a recent convert who had already given striking evidence of his fidelity to Christ, walked 120 li (forty miles) over the mountains as soon as he heard that “Chiang kiao-sï’s” life was in danger. Such devotion had been a wonderful cheer to our sister. These dear brethren greatly strengthened her hands in God, continuing instant in prayer, both in fellowship with her and by themselves.
At the hour appointed when the procession was expected to pass our doors, the little company gathered in the chapel. The meeting took the form as much of praise as of prayer; and while 10,000 were giving glory to their idol, the handful within, whose lives they sought, were praising the beauty of holiness and ascribing honor and strength to His name. Li Tong-chü’s prayer specially impressed itself on Miss Gates’ heart, his petition being that if it were not the will of God at this time to call them to lay down their lives, He would so put His fear upon their enemies that they might have no power at all against them.
Whilst thus engaged the roar of the huge procession was heard gathering in volume as it drew nearer. Without a pause it swept on, thundered past the gate, and died away in the distance. How marvelously had God answered! It transpired that, all unknown to Miss Gates and those with her, the news of the intended riot had come to the officials, both of whom, in company with many of the most prominent gentry, took up their position opposite our premises, the Fu and the Hsien themselves standing in the very doorway until all had gone by. The incident is interesting in another connection, viz., as affording a suggestive contrast to the attitude adopted towards us by the same men within the same week.
I may here add that the heavy rainfall that night (July 1), which had been instrumental in securing our own deliverance from the inn, was at Lu-an attributed to the virtues of the miraculous water, and construed into a sign from heaven that the gods were pleased with the devotion manifested in the Boxer movement towards the “Great Religion.”
The following day (July 2) it was rumored that the Empress Dowager had issued secret orders for the extermination of the foreigner. Thereupon Miss Gates insisted on the native helpers and servants returning to their homes, and began to make preparation for possible flight to the hills. The faithful Sheng-min refused to leave her, but knew of a cave whither he undertook to pilot her, pledging himself to care for her through every vicissitude.
Such was the situation we found on our return.
It was now clear to us all that we were face to face with a crisis the nature and extent of which it was impossible fully to gauge, but whose gravity was sufficiently apparent. We could not but feel sure that the recent action of the officials in showing themselves our friends and protectors was something of a guarantee of security. Moreover, we knew that in general a heavy discount must be allowed on all street rumor; and so we hoped, and encouraged one another to believe, that things were not as black as they looked. Still, though we were in ignorance of the provincial Governor Yü-hsien’s violent antipathy to the foreigner and of the active measures he had already taken in hurrying on his bloody purpose, we knew that the Boxer movement was spreading to our parts, and had now become a fact that we must definitely reckon with.
The day following our return (July 4) I sent our cart out to Lu-ch’eng for the boxes we had left behind. We united in the earnest prayer for the clear knowledge of the will of God; and it seemed to us then that unless we had something more definite to go on than street rumors, we ought not to think of leaving the station.
At dinner time, while sitting at table, Elder Liu came in to say that the Hsien had sent to ask “whether we were going South.” The inquiry surprised us, as being so altogether out of the ordinary, and so apparently uncalled for; but we concluded that possibly he was at a loss to account for our having returned and wished in this way to get at the reason. In the light of later events, I now think it may have been intended as a hint to us to make good our escape while we might, consequent on his knowledge of the edict communicated to him that day, the requirements of which he was loth to carry out. However that might be, we thanked his Excellency for his kind inquiry, and assured him that we had no intention of leaving the city.
At dusk the boy returned from Lu-ch’eng with our boxes. He brought also a note from Mr. Cooper, with a pencil message enclosed (hastily written on a scrap of paper) from the Rev. A. R. Saunders, of P’ing-iao. The latter was to the effect that they had been rioted at their station, and had only just escaped being taken and put to death. They were making for Lu-ch’eng, in the hope that matters were still peaceful there, and might be expected within the next few hours, the party consisting of four adults and four children.
Mr. Cooper drew the inevitable conclusion of impending trouble for our own stations also, and the need of our all being prepared for a similar experience, while he asked our prayers that special grace might be given him to know how to act in circumstances of added responsibility.
It was clear that matters were heading to a definite issue, and we began to ask ourselves seriously: Ought we not at least to be ready for flight in case of sudden emergency? The climax, however, was reached when positive news was brought in later that the edict which it was rumored the Empress Dowager had issued for our destruction might be seen posted up outside the yamen; and that our death was now the topic of the hour. Not only so, but the actual day had been fixed for our execution—the tenth day of the sixth moon.
On the north side of the Mission compound there was a small door in the wall opening on to fields remote from the main thoroughfare. This we hardly ever used. But during the morning the thought had occurred to us that a time might come when we should be glad to avail ourselves of it for purposes of escape, and that it would be well to have the key at hand. Accordingly I went to take it from the place where it usually hung; but it was gone. High and low we searched for that key, but it was nowhere to be found. And now the time had come when I needed it. To slip out to the yamen by the back way of the fields was my only chance of getting through; for I was warned that it was not safe to show myself on the street. Again we betook ourselves to prayer, when another long search unearthed a few disused keys, one of which fitted the lock. Fervently thanking God, I took Sheng-min with me and slipped out at dark by way of the fields to the Hsien yamen. The Men-shang received me with the usual show of courtesy, but was evidently primed with his answer in view of an expected visit. Upon my urgently requesting to see the Ta Ern himself, I was told that it was utterly out of the question—the Lao-ie was indisposed, and must not be disturbed. He would himself hear my business, if I wished, and report it to his chief. He invited us into an inner room, and bade me be seated. I then told him of the report I had heard, that an edict was out, purporting to come from the throne, for our destruction; and I wished to acquaint his Excellency with the fact, and to beg him, if the rumor was an idle one, to take immediate steps to suppress it. The Deputy’s manner was of the blandest. He too had heard that a little small talk of the kind was about, but he could assure me there was nothing in it, positively nothing. And with a reassuring “Puh p’a, pub p’s” (“You have really nothing to fear”), he promptly dismissed me. I went back with the burden considerably lightened, though not wholly removed. In the light of the Men-shang’s assurance, we felt there was nothing to indicate that it was God’s will for us to leave the station. Indeed, the friendly action of the officials so recently as Sunday last led us to believe that we were far safer within the city walls than exposed to irresponsible hostility without. And then, how often had these rumors proved to be mere idle tales, and these threats but a breath!
However, when I awoke next morning (July 5), the shadow of the cloud was over me. I felt it particularly as I went to my private devotions, and opened my Bible at the portion for the day, in the regular course of reading. It was the eighth chapter of Josh. I came to the fifth verse, “It shall come to pass that when they come out against us we will flee before them.” My thought was arrested, and as I prayed over the passage, I heard but one voice, “Flee before them, flee before them!” The word “flee” seemed to stand out from all the rest. I shrank from the call—the memory of the road we had just passed over was too bitter. Was it possible God was calling us to pass that way again—the mother as she was and the little ones Then the words in verses 1 and 8 lighted up, “Fear not, neither be thou dismayed. See, I have commanded you.” The call was so clear and emphatic that, in spite of our resolve the previous day and the assurance given by the Mandarin, I felt convinced that flight was now for us a God-appointed duty. After breakfast we gathered according to our regular custom, for family prayer, Miss Gates uniting, as usual, with us. We were reading consecutively through the books of Samuel; and the chapter for that particular morning was 2 Sam. 15 Imagine what I felt when I opened to the chapter and read on to verse 14. “And David said unto all his servants that were with him at Jerusalem, Arise and let us flee; for we shall not else escape from Absalom: make speed to depart.” Again I heard the authoritative “Flee! Make speed to depart, for we shall not else escape.” It was enough. Closing the book, I said, “This is the Lord’s word to us. The path is clear beyond the shadow of a doubt. We have nothing now to do but to obey and ‘flee.’” I then related to my wife and Miss Gates the incident connected with my private reading before breakfast, and the striking confirmation of the word then given so impressed them that they no less than I recognized it as the declaration of God’s will for us, and we began forthwith to set our house in order and to prepare for flight.
Not long after a message arrived from the Hsien asking me to send my servant round to the yamen, as he had something important to communicate, but on no account to come myself. An hour later Shengmin returned with the dreaded confirmation from the Mandarin’s own lips of the rumor we feared. The Hsien told him that the substance of it was perfectly true. Secret orders had been received from Peking directing that official protection was to be entirely withdrawn from us. He wished to say that we could do as we chose, stay or go; but that in either case he was powerless to help us.
We now saw the reason, as well as the mercy, of the clear guidance just given us from God. To stay was to be left absolutely in the hands of the people, who but four days before had vowed our destruction, and who would now recognize, in the withdrawal of official protection, the official sanction of the deed. To go had at least an element of uncertainty about it, that was wholly wanting in the alternative choice—an element the very faintest, but still there. In staying, all hope that we should be saved was taken away. In going, there was just a ray of all but hopeless hope to which we clung; for who could tell if God would be gracious and bring us through?
It was now that God used the telegram, addressed from Shanghai to poor Mr. William Cooper at Shuenteh, to guide me in the decision. If only we could get clear of the district and work down towards the coast in a southerly direction, we should be always getting farther away from the disaffected zone, and might yet outdistance the trouble. The thing to do, therefore, was to hire mule litters to Chau-kia-k’eo, in Ho-nan, where we had a mission station, and thence by native boat, if necessary, to Shanghai. If our money supply ran short, our brethren at Cha,u-kia-k’eo would make up the deficiency until a fresh supply was received from headquarters. For it must be understood that at this time we had no idea that the trouble was other than local. We had to learn piecemeal, by bitter experience, that it had affected Ho-nan not less than Shan-si, and that the Chau-kia-k’eo scheme, even if it could have been carried through, was a thing of naught. As it was, however, God used it to foster hope and to accomplish His purpose in our escape from the city.
Sheng-min was accordingly sent off to secure three litters.
Quietly, busily, prayerfully, the day was spent in packing, settling the affairs of the Church, and making the necessary dispositions of property. Our flight would, we knew, be followed inevitably by the looting of the premises. To attempt to save any articles at all seemed lost labor. But a friend of Sheng-min’s volunteered to take two of our boxes and hold them in safe keeping for us; and we trustfully gave them into his care. We also gave permission to the personal staff on the place to take whatever they found that might be of use to them, feeling that we would rather they had the benefit of our goods than the lawless rabble. One of the last things I did was to send our dining-room clock as a present to the Hsien, in the hope that it might move his heart to some degree of pity for us.
Not the least trying part of the sad offices of that sad day was the taking farewell of the few members of the Church who came in to see us in the course of the day, believing as we all did that we should see each other’s face no more. Elder Liu entreated us with tears to lose no time, but make the best of our escape while we might. “It is your only chance of life,” he said, “poor as that chance is; but to remain within the city walls till the morrow’s light is certain death.” The last prayers were breathed, the last exhortations and promises from the Word of God given, the last affectionate assurances exchanged, and they were scattered every man to his own.
How many times our hearts went back to the ever-recurring question, Should such a man as I flee? Are we right in leaving the flock in the cloudy and dark day? It was only after a conflict too great for words that the peace of God reigned in the knowledge that our flight was of Him and really for the sake of the Church we were so loth to leave. For if we remained, their destruction was sure, so closely were they identified with us; whereas, if we left, they could escape to the hills or wheresoever else, and preserve their lives in the will of God, to His glory and the furtherance of the Gospel.
While eating our midday meal, Sheng-min returned from his long quest to say that he had been to every hiring place known to him in the city for carts and litters, but that no one would take the “foreign devils.” What was to be done now? We were beginning to realize that in very deed we were as the filth of the world. Had it really come to this, that we were so hated of all men that no man cared for our souls? The announcement was as the knell of approaching doom, for it revealed a state of feeling towards us which foreboded nothing but death.
Sheng-min came in, exclaiming with an unwonted degree of excitement: “Come, all of you, do, and look at the moon; it is a strange sight! I never saw anything like it. Everybody is talking about it.” I saw from his manner that he read in it some fateful omen; and partly to allay any alarm to my wife which his manner tended to excite, and partly to rebuke his superstitious fear, I said, “We who believe in God trust only in Him, We put no faith in the things the heathen look at. They are nothing to us, and have no power to make our hearth afraid.” After he was gone, however, Miss Gates thought it might be as well to see what the phenomenon was. When she came back she could only say, “Oh! you really ought to see this moon; it is too extraordinary.” So we went.
Never shall I forget the horror of the sight. I use the word advisedly. As we looked up, my wife and I involuntarily exclaimed, “How really awful!” There, staining a clear sky, it stood among the stars—a mass of blood! I could only repeat the word that came immediately to my lips—so singularly in keeping with the dark judgment hour now close upon us “The moon shall be turned into blood before the great and terrible day of the Lord come.”
It certainly seemed to be literally fulfilled before our very eyes. God only knows why it was thus, and His own purpose in permitting it on this night, of all nights. From the human point of view, nothing could have been more untoward. It practically sealed our doom, and cut off the last hope of escape. The final aggravation of a condition of things already sufficiently fearful, it could convey to the superstitious mind but one meaning and one determination. Certain it is that one word only was on the lips of all “See! blood written in heaven! T’ien Lao-ie himself confirms the Emperor’s decree for the destruction of the foreign devil; and, look you—tomorrow is the tenth day of the sixth moon”