d'arc's marionettes caught up in the boxer siege of peking and tientsin, china's ford of heaven

8/8/2019 D'Arc's Marionettes Caught Up in the Boxer Siege of Peking and Tientsin, China's Ford of Heaven

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DArcs Marionettes caught up in the Boxer siege of Peking

and Tientsin, Chinas Ford of Heaven.

As mentioned in a previous article, it was in the second half of 1899 that George DArc

with his wife Agnes and their marionette troupe,DArcs Fantoches Franaises, arrived

in Tientsin, the penultimate stop of their tour of the Far East that had included Bombay,

Calcutta, Bangkok, Singapore, Hong Kong and Tokyo. Theirfinal stop, Peking, was to

follow within a month.

George had everything going for him. All along the way his show had been warmly

received, but most especially so in Tokyo where the cheers and applause was still ringing

in his ears. Tientsin had a considerable Japanese population and that augured well for hisbox office.

Even before his first performance in Tokyo he was agreeably surprised by the familiarity

of the DArc name by the theatre going public. Furthermore, there were clear indications

that Japanese puppetry had been influenced by the Western form of the art, and most par-

ticularly by his father Lambert DArcs presentation and style.


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DArcs Marionettes had played in many strange places, but none as strange as Tientsin,

where within walking distance of that ancient walled city stood five well established

foreign settlements four of which, the Japanese, French, British, and German, boasted of

their own municipal governments, their own courts of law, and their own garrisons and

police. The fifth, the American, stopped short of instituting its own municipal government

though it reserved the right to station troops in the area.

The settlements access to the outside world was either via the Hai Ho whose mouth was

at Taku, forty miles to the south, or by rail from Takus adjacent town of Tangku. Either

way there was no escaping the rivers shallow waters and the sand bar that stretched

across the estuary. Even the smallest sea going vessel had to anchor on the ocean side of

Taku Bar and transship its freight on to lighters with shallow enough draught that allowedthem to go up river to Tientsin or cross over to the railhead at Tangku.

George with his extensive transportation experience gained from his South African,

Indian, and Australian tours was equal to the task of getting the shows hundred puppets

and their costumes and stage scenery and props from Tokyo to Tientsin without mishap.

And so it was on July 19 that hisFantoches Franaises opened at the Bijou Theatre on

Bruce Street in the British Settlement. The box office turning out even better than he had


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hoped, he extended his Tientsin season until he could no longer postpone the call from

Peking. The delay might have been for the good, for he was having problems arranging

for a suitable show place in the Imperial Capital as can be seen from his letter to the edi-

tor ofPeking & Tientsin Times.

It was not until the last week of August that he loaded his props and scenery and his

hundred puppets on to flat cars for the five hour rail journey to Peking. And just as he had

stated in his letter to the press, it was on September 7th that he opened his season there on

a makeshift stage in the grounds of the Russian Postmaster.

His houses were disappointing, and he soon learned the reason from Auguste Chamot who

helped him locate a show place in Peking, and who was now the host of the hotel where

he was staying. Since Boxers had emerged on the citys streets, it was safer for foreign-

ers to stay indoors. As to who the Boxers were, Chamot described them as crazy members

of an anti-Manchu anti-foreign cult who believed that chanting Buddhist doggerel while

engaging in weird forms of martial arts gained them immunity from fire and sword. They

sometimes called their movement the Society for Justice and Harmony and sometimes the

Clench Fists for Justice and Harmony. It was from the latter designation that they cameto be called Boxers. To George they certainly fitted the bill of those Mandarins and

Buddhist priests who had disrupted his attempt to set up a showpiece opposite the Peking

Observatory.

George pressed on with the show despite the poor box office until the third week of

September when he received an invitation from Tientsin he could not refuse. It was to

perform for most of the month of October at the prestigious Gordon Hall. What made the


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offer even more compelling was that he had to be in Tientsin by the years end anyway to

embark for the UK, his grand tour of the Far East having finally drawn to a close.

His season at the Gordon Hall closed on the night of October 21 1899, but when in

November his troupe of puppet manipulators, songsters, scene shifters, and costumers

embarked for England, he was not with them. He had a new venture in mind, one whichwould take him and Agnes back to Peking. Family legend has it that he was commis-

sioned by the Manchu Court to create a wax effigy of the Empress Dowager. We also

know from notes, handwritten by his daughter, Grace, that he went to Peking to discuss

with Mons Auguste Chamot how he might become involved in running hotel de pkin.

The picture frame and partial picture frame above are from George DArcs 1900 photo

album. The photo contained in the full frame is of two gentlemen, two ladies, and three

children. Written on the frame above the gentleman on the right is the name clearly iden-

tifying him as Monsieur Chamot. Perhaps the lady next to him is his wife Annie.

In the partial frame the identities written by the same hand are given as M.Chamot, Mrs

DArc, Mr DArc, and a Mr Moore. Regrettably the photograph itself is missing.

Throughout this article, any photographs reproduced from George DArcs album will be

referenced asD/Albumplus the item number. The above photo and space for the missingphoto are referenced as D/Album 47andD/Album 48.


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We know that from the winter of 1899 to the spring of 1900 George and Agnes were backin Peking, but what a time to be there. Hotel de pkin guests were on tenterhooks as were

much of Pekings foreign population. The Boxers who had spilled over from Shantung

Province were joined by supporters from towns and cities across the north. Hardly a day

went by without some outrageous incident being reported in the local press.

At Peitang Cathedral, where George and Agnes wor-

shipped, they heard the warnings of a white bearded

prelate concerning the mortal danger facing them all.

That explained the sandbag defences the couple saw

being erected all around the Cathedral structure. The

mans warnings were borne out when every foreignlanguage newspaper in Peking reported the brutal mas-

sacre of Catholic Christian converts, man woman and

child, in three local villages set up under the auspices of

Monsignor Alphonse-Pierre Favier, Vicar Apostolic of

Peking (George and Agness white bearded prelate).

It was when the telegraph lines to Tientsin were cut that

the French Minister Pichon called for volunteers to take

the train there to warn the French military authority of

the danger facing Pekings foreign residents. George,

familiar with the crossing, having made it six times,

felt obliged to volunteer. He and Agnes had hardly ever

been apart since their marriage six years back, but it

was a relief to know that he would be back with her in

just two days. It was on May 26 that he and three fel-

low volunteers were at the station situated beneath the

citys towering Chienmen to board the morning train.


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GEORGE

The train arrived at its first stop, Fengtai, without incident. But there it stayed motionless

for ten minutes, twenty minutes, an hour. One of his companions asked a guard what was

happening. He got no answer. Then slowly, almost imperceptibly, the train began creep-

ing forward. Soon their carriage was swaying and vibrating as the engine settled into

a barking rhythm. At Langfang, mobs of peasants who tried to storm into the carriageswere viciously beaten back by troops of the Imperial army. As the train crept into Yangt-

sun it was met with a deafening fusillade of small arms fire, and black smoke billowed

from torched buildings. The door burst open and a priest shouted at them: Run for it,

Boxers on the rampage. They made straight for the sorghum fields, not yet at their full

seven foot harvesting height, but high enough and thick enough to give them cover. Hid-

ing by day and moving by night, they headed in the general direction of Tientsin. At dawn

on the third day a mounted Sikh patrol came upon them. On May 30 the four stood before

Tientsins French Commandant. On delivering the message from Pichon, they were

thanked and dismissed with a wave of the hand.

But George held his ground. With all respect would the Commandant pass on the warn-ing to the British authority. The British needed no warning the man shot back. They were

well aware that the Boxers had burned down Fengtai rail station and were threatening the

Legations. Stunned by the news, George declared that he had to return there immediately.

Impossible was the rejoinder. He should know that foreign civilians were forbidden to

travel on the line to Peking. Whats more, even foreign military had to have permission

before they could board any train heading there. It had taken some hard negotiating be-

fore the Chinese agreed to let four hundred sailors and marines from seven nations travel


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to Peking to reinforce the Legation guards there. And the total number of four hundred

was to be strictly enforced.

For the French Commandant that was the end of the matter. For George, it was far from

it. He stood at the edge of Victoria Road as the contingent of Royal Marines, selected to

be part of the four hundred, marched ceremoniously to the station behind a Chinese brassband. With all those bystanders attracted to the spectacle there was little chance of his

tagging along unobserved.

And at the Bund where the US Marines were crossing over to the railway station his

chances were even less of attaching himself unseen to the end of their column.


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All told, it tookfive trains to transport the four hundred marines, sailors, and soldiers to

Peking. Even as the last train was steamed out of the station, a rumour was spreading

throughout the settlements that the British Admiral Seymour was putting in place a pow-

erful multinational force to fight its way to Peking. George was jubilant. With his knowl-

edge of the line, Seymour would jump at the chance of recruiting him.

Camping at the station where the reinforcements would be arriving, he witnessed the ar-

rival of the US naval landing party on a train from Tangku. And he was all smiles at the

novel Russian method of travel when a trainload of Russians pulled in. They had ridden

all the way from Tangku on the roofs of coaches carrying an American circus that had

made the bizarre decision to play in Tientsin at this dangerous time. Warrens Circus by

golly! He knew them. He had crossed paths with them in Bombay and Singapore. He

remembered them well: the trapeze artists, the daredevil horseback rider, and the clown,

the funniest clown he had ever seen.

On May 31 George was there, ready and available, when Admiral Seymour arrived at the

station to board his two thousand fighting men.


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He hailed a team of Royal Marines loading their equipment. They ignored him. He waved

wildly at a squad of Austrian marines, but again he got nowhere.

Then he came upon a detachment fromHMS Barfleurmustering for embarkation. He

called out to an officer Can I join you? I know every stop on the way. The officer

waved him off.

Next day, his luck was in. There was an empty carriage on the train leaving for Peking.

He stepped aboard and grabbed a seat.


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AGNES

If George agonized over Agness safety every day and

night since he left her at the hotel, so did Agnes over him.

He was to have returned in two days, that is by May 28th

the latest, but not a sign of him. Worse still, on the eve-

ning of the 28th came word of Fengtai rail junction beingoverrun by the Boxers, the buildings torched, and the track

to Paotingfu torn up. And with every passing day came

further news of the Boxers acts of terrorism. George had

placed her under Mons Chamots care, but now the man

was gone, and his American wife Annie too. The two had

made the daredevil decision to ride out to a village close to

Fengtai to rescue Belgian engineers and their families who

had fled the carnage at Fengtai.

News spread like wildfire that the rescue party had succeeded in its death defying mis-

sion, and was heading back to Peking with its charges: thirteen Belgians, their nine wives,

and seven children.


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Agnes had at last something to cheer about. If Mons Chamot could get through Boxer

lines then so could George. There was every chance he was safe in Tientsin.

And now at hotel de pkin the welcoming hurrahs had hardly died down for Chamot and

his wife when Agness hopes were given another boost. Word spread that trainloads of le-

gation guard reinforcements from several nations were arriving at the railway station. Sheheld up a silver coin to the nearest rickshaw coolie to speed her there. She successfully

fought her way through the jam of glum and silent Chinese onlookers, but she had less

success evoking an answer from the assembling marines. None had ever heard of George

DArc. A Royal Navy officer added that the Chinese officials who had given permission

for the five trainloads of guards to proceed to Peking were there to enforce the number

allowed to entrain. The British had to reduce their number by twenty-five. Not a single

civilian was allowed to board.

For Pekings foreign residents the arrival of the reinforcements could not have been more

timely. Boxers were drilling openly in the Chinese City. Their posters, everywhere to be

seen, promised the elimination of the hated foreign devils. And this was no vain boast.

Peking & Tientsin Times reported the brutal torture and execution of the English mis-sionaries Robinson and Norman and most of their Chinese flock - men, women, children.

When on June 10 the Paomachang racecourse grandstand was burnt to ground, and a day

later the Chancellor of the Japanese Legation was pulled from his carriage and hacked

to pieces by Boxer broadswords, foreigners needed no further warning. They packed up

what they could and headed for the refuge in the Legation quarter. Protestant missionaries

in and around Peking brought with them their thousand Christian converts.


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At midnight on June 12th, a night Agnes was never to forget, she was snapped awake by

a bedlam of roaring and screaming. Her door burst open and a servant shouted: Chi lai

Chi lai - Get up Get up. In the lobby fast filling with guests she heard that a band of

Boxers had broken through the Hatamen fortress gate and were slaughtering any Chinese

shopkeepers and their families they could lay their hands on. And now over the blood

curdling blasts of trumpets and horns she heard the terrifying chant: Sha Sha - Kill Kill.The clamour intensified as the Boxers swept past the hotel on Legation Street in pursuit

of terrified shopkeepers and their families.

At first light, drugged from lack of sleep, she and three other guests followed Mons

Chamot across silent deserted Legation Street to the Chinese stores opposite the ho-

tel. He beckoned them into a cloth shop and ordered them to scavenge as many rolls as

they could carry of silk, satin, linen, even brocade and hurry back with their loads. And

there on the hotels kitchen tables where the fabric was unrolled, they followed a sewing

amahs instructions on how to use Chinese scissors to cut the fabric into lengths for sew-

ing into sandbags.

Busy with needle and thread, Agnes was able to ignore the desultory rifle shots that

sounded most of the day. But at night she was out of bed in a flash when tremendous

bursts of machine gun fire sounded as if they were coming from next door. Not from

next door, she learned from the desk clerk, but from the Austrian guards Maxim that had

wiped out the Boxer braves testing the Legation defences.

Great arcs offlames lit up the sky above the Chinese city to the south. Look, someonecried out, and there in clear view was the magnificent hundred foot high Ming tower of

the Chien Men fortress gate being consumed by fire.

The calm steady voice of Mons Auguste Chamot sounded. Tomorrow first thing you will

all be moved to the British Legation. We are under siege.


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GEORGE

Rebuffed byHMS Barfleurs officers, and that was on May 31, George was now aboard a

train in a carriage all to himself. After only a short delay, loud retorts of exploding steam

sounded from the engine ahead and the train creaked into motion. Even as it was mov-

ing the carriage door slammed open and three Cossack offi

cers entered. George raisedhimself expecting to be sent packing, but they broke into smiles and waved him down.

The train chugged slowly past blackened shell-torn villages before it pulled to a halt at a

station platform. Not a Chinese to be seen, only Royal Marine and US Marine stretcher

bearers. George hailed one. Are we not headed for Peking? The man stared at him in

astonishment. No sir, were not. This is Peitsang. Were on our way back to Tientsin.

There was fierce fighting at Yangtsun, many casualties. Were taking the wounded to

Tientsin. Who are you anyway? When George told him he was at once commandeered

to carry a stretcher on to the train.

Back at Tientsin where the wounded were being unloaded, a

voice sounded through a megaphone Heads down. Were underfire. And sure enough, every now and then there would be a

loud crack of a rifle shot followed by a thud as the bullet hit the

station building. While Russian and Japanese wounded contin-

ued to be carried off somewhere, George kept close behind a

mule-drawn ambulance as it crossed the bridge leading to the

settlements. In the lobby of Customs House on Victoria Road,

now a temporary hospital, an English nurse confronted him.

Why are you not in the Volunteers? You should join the Volun-

teers.

When he learned from the Volunteers recruiting officer that as

an infantryman he would be staying put manning the settle-

ments defences, but in the mounted unit, otherwise known as

the Frontier Rifles, there was a good chance he would be joining

the relief force when it headed out for Peking. To qualify one

must have a horse. Did he have a horse? His mind raced to his

friends at Warrens Circus. They had a good stable of wagon

horses. He gave the officer a nod.

The very next day, June 13th, never mind horses, all units of

the Volunteer Corps were shoulder to shoulder at the westerndefence line firing their 45 calibre Martini-Henry rifles into

swarms of attacking Boxers. Even if that were not nerve-racking

enough, shrieking shells began bursting thunderously all about

the settlements. Word passed round. Get ready to pull back. We

must shorten the line. An hour passed, two hours, the shelling

continued, and there was no order to pull back. It was now com-

mon knowledge that the shells were being fired by modern Ger-


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man Krupps howitzers of the Chinese Imperial Army. There could be no doubt that they

had joined in with the Boxers and were making an all out attack on Tientsin station. Once

the railway was in their hands, the settlements were doomed. But now came wonderful

news. At the critical moment 1,500 Russian troops from Taku poured on to the station.

They were a week late joining Seymours relief expedition, but in the nick of time to save

the settlements. Supported by the deadly accuratefi

re from theirfi

eld guns, the Russianinfantry threw the Chinese back into the native city.

They might have been sent reeling, but from the protection of their walled city the Chi-

nese continued with their bombardment of the settlements, the French suffering worst,

nearly all their buildings flattened and burned to embers. Worse still, Boxers and Impe-

rial sharpshooters had infiltrated the thinly held lines and were taking a deadly toll of the

residents and their military personnel.

A French officer was shot dead on rue de France and an Englishman killed as he came out

of his cellar on Meadows Road. Outside Hsiao Pai Lou, the heart of the American Settle-

ment, two Americans were shot down. But it hit more at home when George heard that

George Peters, manager of Warrens Circus, was killed by a snipers bullet.

On June 17 the Volunteers were relieved from their front line duties. And that could not

have been more welcome for George and his fellow troopers. The unit of Royal Marines

that took over had done so twice before. A hardened bunch they were, veterans of South

Africa, not given to joking or hilarity. But on this day they were all smiles. Theyd re-

ceived the good news that the detachment of theirs with Seymours Peking Relief Expedi-tion which had been soundly defeated at Yangtsun by the massed forces of China Kansu

Muslim Army, had fought its way to Hsi Ku Arsenal only eight miles from Tientsin and

was holding out there with Seymour and the remnants of his force.

Good news for the marines, but chilling for George. If the Chinese army was powerful

enough to send Seymours men packing, what hope was there for the meagre force of

guards protecting Pekings legations! What hope was there for Agnes!


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AGNES

Riding in Peking carts, wheelbarrows, rickshaws, it took two days for the guests of hotel

de pkin to move themselves and their luggage to a pavilion in the British Legation

grounds. Agnes who considered herself staff and not a guest excluded herself from theexodus. Auguste Chamot did not object. Being under his charge he could keep a better

eye on her in the hotel. Besides, there was much work to do, cutting various fabrics and

sewing them into sandbags, cutting and rolling gauze for bandages. Chamots American

wife, Annie, was perfectly capable of performing these duties, but she chose to participate

in the preparation of the hotels defences. Dressed in a French colonial army field jacket

and English jodhpurs, and with her rifle always near at hand, she went busily to work

positioning sandbags so that the loopholes provided the best arc offire.

The only guests Agnes saw now were military officers and embassy brass from various

legations. Sometimes there were two of three of them at a coffee table, sometimes they

occupied most of the seats in the banquet room. Much of their talk went over her head,

but it was plain as day to her when they discussed with Chamot the number of bread

loaves his bakery could produce in a day and how might they be dispersed to the lega-tions.

An American marine passed a note to his commanding officer at the table. The officer

rose to his feet. Von Kettler shot dead, he let out. And when it transpired that the Ger-

man Minister Baron von Kettler had been assassinated while on his way to a meeting at

the Tsung li Yamen requested by the Celestial Empires Minister of Foreign Affairs, it

could only mean war.


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And that war was only an hour in coming. Sudden ear shattering fusillades of musket and

rifle fire and flights offiery torches slammed against the French Legations outposts and

Embassy building. Agnes stood petrified by the stunning blasts, the screams and yells of

soldiers in battle, the eerie deep rumbles of Buddhist horns. Mons Chamot grabbed herhand. Come with he, and he led her down into the hotel bakery.

Even in the bakery there was no escaping the horror. Three French marines and an Italian,

were brought in, their uniforms soaked with blood. A man wearing a Red Cross armband

called out Bandez! Agnes held up a gauze roll. He nodded. And while he pressed swabs

on the hideous wounds, she did her best to wind the rolls around them.

Some time in the night, the door pounded and Chamot shouted into her ear, Get on your

feet. We are retreating to the British Legation. She heard him banging on other doors.

She did not know how long she stood in the hall as if in a drunken stupour before he was

back. Plans changed. We are not moving.

She sat back on the bed. If only George were here. There was so much to tell him. She

must tell him that the hotel was bearing the brunt of the Boxer attack, that there was no

avoiding the sounds and smoke of battle, that there was no avoiding the horrific sight of

torn and mutilated limbs.

In the morning Mons Chamot was here there everywhere, issuing orders, gesticulating.

He stood before her. You can do your part by supervising the distribution of the bread. Itlooks like well produce 300 loaves today. Well keep 30 and send the rest to the British

Legation for further distribution. Tomorrow the numbers might be different.

So in the ensuing days there was always something more to tell George. She must tell

him of the responsibility thrust upon her to supervise the allocation of bread to the dif-

ferent Legations still holding out, that on two occasions she had ridden the Peking cart

carrying the bread to the British Legation, and how it had infuriated Mons Chamot when


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he heard about it. Was she not aware that the bridge over the drainage canal was in clear

view of snipers, that three drivers had already been shot dead?

For sure she must tell George that through marvellous luck or divine intervention she

happened not to be in that part of the hotel when shells smashed into it. Twice the hotel

caughtfi

re, and twice she joined the bucket brigade that worked feverishly to extinguishthe flames.

And yes, she must remember to tell him that she had come face to face with the wife of

the Austrian diplomat they met when they first arrived in Peking. The lady informed her

that she and her husband had forsaken the safety of the British Legation and booked in at

the hotel.

But they were not to renew their friendship. On July 14, Bastille Day, a day for celebra-

tion, two tremendous explosions rocked every pavilion, shed, and hut in the French Lega-

tion. The mines the Boxers had detonated under the French positions buried alive many

of its defenders. Among the few survivors who were dug out of the rubble was the badlywounded Austrian diplomat.

As the screeching battle cries of the Boxers signalled their ground attack, so French

bugles sounded and the last reserves of French, Austrians, and Italians rose to meet the

enemy head on. Performing incredible feats of courage, they recaptured the deep trench

that had been dug to serve as the legations last ditch defence.


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Three mornings later, she woke with a start. She tensed. Silence, eerie silence permeated

the hotel. She got down to the lobby as fast as she could. Truce, someone said. Theres

been a truce. It was too incredible for Agnes to accept. She believed it later in the morn-

ing when she heard that four cartloads of melons, cucumbers, and cabbages had arrived

at the American Legation gate. Each cart had a sign written in Chinese which translated:

With the compliments of her Imperial Majesty.

Days of waiting, but none of the eagerly awaited fresh vegetables reached the occupants

of hotel de pkin, Finally, a basket of eggs was delivered there by the British Legation.

Agnes rejoiced over the two, nicely soft boiled for her by the hotel under chef.

She was still under Mons Chamots orders not leave the hotel under any circumstances,

so obviously he had little faith in the cease fire, but she felt safe enough to remove the

cotton wool plugs from her ears. And where she had stooped low whenever she passed a

window, she now raised her head above its sandbag parapet to steal a glimpse at the go-

ings on outside. She saw a French marine treading his way through the rubble of bricks

on Legation Street. She saw an Austrian in conversation with a Manchu brave. Bothbroke into smiles. What further proof was needed that the killing had stopped for once

and for all ?

Her hopes along with the hopes of close on five hundred foreign civilians and over two

thousand servants and refugees and four hundred heroic legation guards were shattered

when the besieging army ended the armistice with a barrage that dwarfed any other it

had previously fired. And while their shells were still falling, their shouting screamingswordsmen, pikemen, riflemen swarmed in on the attack from every direction. Their

numbers were overwhelming. The defenders fell back. Those in the French Legations

deep trench barely made it back into the hotel. Dites vos prires, someone called to Ag-

nes. Lafin est proche. When she stared around her and shook her head, another voice

called: Say your prayers, the end is near.

It was August 13.


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GEORGE

When last we left George, and that was on June 17th, he had just been given the good

news by bluejackets that Admiral Seymours force though badly mauled was holding out

at Hsi Ku Arsenal. The bluejackets knew nothing of the fate of Pekings foreign residents.

It was now while the Volunteers were back on their watch that the sounds of battle, faint

at first grew more intense by the minute. Some daredevil volunteers who stuck their heads

above the parapet reported no mans land to be totally deserted. All that rattle of rifle and

machine gun fire and detonation of grenades and mortars and shell bursts seemed to be

coming from the southern front. And so it was. Hurrahs and shouts began sounding all

along the line. Yanks have broken through at Taku Road! And within half an hour US

Marines were in the settlement with a British naval landing party alongside them haul-

ing their artillery pieces. And now from the race course Italian marines came charging

through the barriers with standards raised and trumpets blaring.

And that was just the start. The floodgates opened and an endless stream of khaki clad

Americans and white jacketed British and their mule carts and gun carriages poured into

the settlement. One moment George and his colleagues-in-arms were cheering waving

spectators, and next they were flat down on their faces as the screeching whzzzz was fol-

lowed instantly by the stupendous burst of a shell. Then another burst and yet another as

salvoes from the Chinese armys modern German artillery continued without stop.

Next morning, the news had hardly passed around the Volunteers that powerful Russian

and Japanese forces on the east side of the Hai Ho had broken the stubborn resistance

of the Imperial Chinese Army, when the Chinese field batteries safe behind the citys


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fortress walls opened up again. And the pounding continued for another six straight

days before it came suddenly to a close. It was only when George clambered out of the

deep shelter that he learned why the guns had fallen silent. American, British, Japanese,

French, and Russian forces had stormed the ramparts and taken the city. But at what ter-

rible cost. Among the piles of dead was hero of Gettysburg, Colonel Emerson Liscum,

who at the height of the battle had led a bayonet charge against the Chinese line.

Tientsin City fell to the Allied forces on July 14th, and when a week went by, two weeks,

and no move was made to march on to Peking, George was beside himself. And he was

not alone. Protests rose from every quarter. Even the worlds press demanded action of

Commander-in-Chief General Wait and See Gaselee. And still he made no move.

Left to kick his heels, George wandered on to the Recreation Grounds where troops from

the United Kingdom were camped. He immediately recognized their talk. It was Taffy,

pure unadulterated Taffy. What regiment? He asked. Royal Welch Fusiliers, Second

Battalion. (Welch was the regiments preferred spelling). A stroke of luck indeed! All

he need do was play his Cardiff card. And he must have done so for all it was worth

DArcs Waxworks on St Mary Street Chamber of Horrors Oliver Cromwells Head,the lot, for he came away with permission to accompany the battalions mule pack when

General Gaselee gave the order, expected any day now, to march on Peking.

But Gaselee continued to hold off giving the order. It wasnt until August 04, which for

George was another week of crushing anxiety, before the Allied force of some twenty

thousand strong, finally started off on its way. Squadrons of Cossacks, Bengal Lancers,

and Japanese cavalry scouted ahead, feeling the way. Foot infantry followed. And at the


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tail end the Service Corps units, with George, who never did get himself a horse, attached

to the Welsh mule pack. At Peitsang, a mere twenty miles from Tientsin, blasts of cannon

fire stopped the column in its tracks. Under a hail of rifle fire and choking in the black

smoke and yellow dust, the Welsh drivers turned their pack train into a gully. And there,

tormented by mosquitoes, mole crickets, and horse flies it stayed all night. At dawn when

George joined the section of mules delivering water to the battalion, he was astonishedto hear that the Japanese after a bloody but victorious battle against Tung Fu Hsiangs

Kansu warriors were in possession of the town.

The retreating Chinese quickly proved they had not lost the war. Only forty-eight hours

later from fortified positions round the rail town of Yangtsun they opened up on the col-

umn with withering volleys of rifle and cannon fire. Once again the mule pack took cover

in a hollow. Before long, stretcher bearers appearing with their gruesome burdens told of

the heavy price the American, Welsh, and Sikhs had paid. But at least there was some-

thing to show for their sacrifice. The Stars and Stripes went up over the towns west wall

and the Union Jack over the east.

But no resting on laurels. Bugles sounded up and down the column. Wait and See

Gaselee had changed his tune. Never mind the intense heat wave that blanketed thewhole north China plain, the battle weary Welch Fusiliers reached the village of Hosiwu

on August 9th, and three days later they stood by as the Japanese stormed the city of

Tungchow, only thirteen miles from Peking. That night a squadron of Cossacks swept

out of Tungchow and were at Pekings huge city wall without a single shot being fired

at them. When news of this reached the column the plans for coordinated attacks on the

citys fortress gates were thrown out of the window. The race was on for the glory of be-

ing first to reach the Legations.


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By moonlight, Rajputs, Sikhs, and Welch Fusiliers skirted their way round the Japanese

storming Chih Homen and the Russians firing their artillery at point blank range at Tung

Pienmen. At dawn, George was one of the thousand Sikhs, Rajputs, and Welshmen gazing

up at the lone legation defender in plain view atop the Tartar Wall flashing his semaphore

flags. Shouts of command and the Welsh and Sikhs deployed to cover the Rajputs as

they advanced double file into the Legation Quarter through a small sluice gate forty feet

below the signaller. The hour it took for the Rajputs to get through was the longest and

most torturous in Georges life. Finally it was the turn of the Welsh to proceed through

the wall.

Georges heart was in his mouth as he waded through the knee deep black slime that

channeled through the Tartar Wall. On reaching firm ground, scenes of devastation

greeted him on every side: great mounds of gray brick, shells of buildings, charred

beams, tiled roofs spread-eagled over the ground. A sudden crackle of rifle shots and he

ducked. When he looked up again, there before him stood an apparition, a South Af-

rican campaign hat over a bronzed face, grimy khaki shirt, leather bandolier, jodhpurs.

George pointed to the multi-tiered curved roof of a temple-like structure that dominated

the skyline. Isnt that Chienmen? . . . No, thats Hatamen. Chienmen was destroyed.

Those rifle shots you heard moments ago came from its ruins. Boxers are still holed up

there. . . . Then we are not far from hotel de pkin? . . . Correct, but you cant get there

from here. All those barricades on Legation Street. But you can get there from the British

Legation. Anyway why do you want to go to the hotel? It was badly shelled, many of the

staff killed. Its not open for business.

George swallowed hard as he allowed himself to be led by his mule twisting and turning

its way across Legation Street. Where he remembered the street to be straight as a die


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along its entire length it was now blocked off every fifty feet or so by barricades of stone

blocks, loose brick, garden gates, window frames. Standing in the Russian Legation he

lost his bearings. Could that mound of rubble be all that was left of the pavilion which

Postmaster Nicolai Gomloyeff made available to him for his marionette show only nine

months earlier?

In the British Legation it was like a garden fte, flags and bunting hanging from eaves,

smiling faces, joyful shouts of greeting. Standing out in the milling crowd were military

uniforms of every colour, but with scarlet predominating. Some ladies were attired in

white as if for the Ascot, broad brimmed hats, dainty parasols, ankle length gowns. Oth-

ers not in quite such finery, but surely in their Sunday best, their hats in style and hems

touching the ground. One such lady turned to face him. He stood transfixed. He choked

out: Agnes! She raised a hand and gasped: George, its you!

This must have been the most dramatic moment of their married life yet their simple

greeting was all we were ever told about it. Fortunately, we have a letter written only six

weeks after the event by their Hong Kong contact, William Farmer, to a mutual friend, aMrs Fanning, which captures something of the magic of the moment. We show that letter

below.


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We are also fortunate enough in having the bottom half of a letter that had been written

on both sides of a single sheet of notepaper. The sheet had come apart at the horizontal

centre fold and the top half is missing. The letters author was Sir Claude MacDonald,

and the recipient, George DArc.

On the face side of the half sheet,

Sir Claude suggests that Agneswas much more comfortable and

certainly had better food than he

or his staff during the siege. He

was probably right with regard to

the food available to Agnes, for it

was at hotel de pkin where much

of it was produced for the whole

legation quarter. Moreover, the

hotels reserve of canned goods

and wine never ran dry. But as

Commander of the legationsdefence forces he well knew that

whereas his quarters were set

back some distance from the front

line, hotel de pkin was the front

line under constant fire through-

out the siege. So whose locatioin

was the more comfortable?

On the reverse side of the half

sheet, Sir Claude lauds Mrs DArc

for having acted with courage

and devotion above all praise.

He states, furthermore, that he has

strongly recommended her for

the medal being awarded by Her

Majestys Government to all who

served with distinction during the

siege.

And Agnes duly received her medal.

(now in the authors possession.)


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Widowed in 1924, heroic Agnes left China for England in 1927 where she retired in

Hove, Sussex. When her grandson, Desmond Power, author of this article, arrived there

in 1946, he spent a month with her. Here they are on Brighton Pier.

Her memory sharp, she regaled him with colourful stories of her time in Peking and

Tientsin. To this day he kicks himself for failing to ask her what happened to Georges

marionettes in 1900. Were they looted or destroyed as the late John Phillips has it in his

research, or were they taken out by the shows workers just before the Boxers began theirattack on the foreign settlements?

Perhaps one day, the answer will come to light.


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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I wish to record here my appreciation for the courtesy and generous use of their time and

material of all those who provided me with information on the DArcs. And I earnestly

hope that I have not through inadvertence omitted anyone. If so, I offer my sincere apolo-

gies.

John M Blundall of Glasgow, Lanarkshire, puppet master of high repute for giving his

gracious permission to use the Japanese woodblock prints contained in his collection of

rare marionette artifacts. On Page 1 of this article, the print on the left, crafted by the art-

ist Tsukioka Kogyo, shows a DArcs theatre stage on which a drunken Pierrot performs

on stilts. And the one on the right is of the celebrated actor, Onoe Kikugoro V, playing

the role of the drunken stilt walking Pierrot in direct imitation of one of DArcs most

popular acts. My thanks go also to John Blundalls colleague Stephen Foster, leading

studio craftsman and puppet designer, for processing and emailing the woodblock prints

for my use.

Frank Bren of Melbourne, VIC, noted researcher of stage and cinema, co-author (with

Law Kar and Sam Ho) ofHong Kong Cinema - A Cross Cultural View (Scarecrow Press,

US 2004) and to John D Simmonds of Turner, ACT, Old China Hand from Tientsin,

soldier of fortune and author of the historical novelLuddite, for their discovery of George

Lambert DArcs 1899 letter to the Editor ofPeking & Tientsin Times, which is printed on

Page 3 of the foregoing article.

Richard Bradshaw of Bowral, NSW, master puppeteer, actively engaged in presenting

puppets in Europe and Asia, and who is an author of published works such asDArcs

Marionettes in Australia, and Mark St Leon of Penshurst, NSW, circus historian and

researcher who provided me with invaluable information on Warrens Circus in Tientsin.

Australian War Memorial Collection for permission to show their photograph, which

appears on Page 17, of the hotel de pkin bedroom destroyed by shell fire.

Keystone Press Agency for permission to show their photographs which appear on Pages

20 and 21 of Allied troops at the time of the battle for Tientsin in 1900.

Joyce Larson Blessinger of Lacey, WA, for her donation of the photographs that appear

on Pages 14 and 29 showing the destruction of the Tientsin settlements by Chinese artil-

lery.

d'arc's marionettes caught up in the boxer siege of peking and tientsin, china's ford of heaven

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