THE FATE OF TAN-KING-CHIN, A BRITISH SUBJECT.
The following narrative of a tragedy which occurred at Amoy, in 1851, will not be uninteresting to the English reader, now that so much attention is directed to Chinese cruelties. It is one of many acts of barbarity and insolence perpetrated by the mandarins, known only to the few concerned in them, and passed over almost unnoticed by the home government; yet to the encouragement which such mistaken forbearance or supine neglect has given to the Chinese, may we in great measure justly attribute the present war.
I went up to Amoy early in December, 1850, to keep house for my brother at the British Consulate. Several Englishmen of distinction returned to Hong Kong, just before my departure northwards, after sojourning some time at Amoy. They had experienced much courtesy, had freely visited the objects of interest in the city, and met with every consideration from the Chinese authorities, so that I little dreamt that the peaceful and friendly relations, which seemed to exist between natives and foreigners, were likely to be broken during my proposed stay at Amoy. The first fortnight passed happily enough, and I found never-failing interest and amusement in rambling through the populous and picturesque city. Amoy is built upon an island, and is said to contain nearly a million of inhabitants. Like all Chinese cities it is surrounded by a wall, which in this instance is so massive and broad, that four or five men can walk abreast upon it. There are numerous gates, not only in the walls, but also in the streets; these are shut at six o’clock in the evening, and strictly guarded, though not so rigidly, I believe, as at Foo-chow, where, when once closed, they are not opened even for the Viceroy.
The British Consulate is placed outside the walls of Amoy, upon a spot chosen with a view (though a mistaken one) to health. No position could well have been more unfortunate, for it is two miles from the European Hongs, which are situated upon the sea-shore, and the city lying between the two, communication might at any moment be cut off.
One day, towards the end of December, my brother and I went to call upon Captain , who was confined to his house by illness. As we passed through the corridor which led to his room, we heard a low monotonous voice reading aloud, and, listening, caught some sentences from one of Sir Walter Scott’s novels. The reader was evidently a foreigner, from his peculiar accent, but his command of the English language was remarkably good, the only slip in pronunciation which we heard being once when the word “chess” occurred, and was transformed, somewhat to our amusement, into “cheese.” When we entered the room we saw a grave-looking young man in a Chinese dress, sitting, with an open book in his hand, by the sofa upon which lay the invalid. Upon seeing us he rose, and with a low bow left the room. Interested by his intelligent countenance, I inquired from Captain whom he had found capable of reading English so well, and was informed that the person in question was a Straitsman, born at Singapore, a registered British subject, and employed by Captain McMurdo, Messrs. Jardine’s agent, as an English clerk.
“Moreover,” added Captain , “he is a Christian, a quiet, well-behaved fellow, a distant relation of the military mandarin in command at Amoy; his name is Tan-King-Chin.”
On the third of January, 1851, we were all electrified about nine o’clock, a.m., by a message sent from Captain McMurdo to the consulate, claiming the protection of Mr. Sullivan, the consul, for his servant Tan-King-Chin, who at four o’clock that morning had been carried off by an armed force under the command of the Chinese Colonel-commandant. At least eighty soldiers surrounded the house of their victim, and forcing an entrance through the roof, captured the man, and carried him off to the yamun of the Taoutae, the newly arrived Intendant of Amoy. Mr. Morrison, the interpreter, and the vice-consul, proceeded at once to this official, to demand the prisoner as a British subject. On arriving in the presence of the Taoutae, they presented the proofs of registration, but the mandarin flatly denied the truth of their statements, and said that Tan-King-Chin had confessed himself a Chinaman. In vain the English officials urged the fact of registration, and promised that, were the prisoner guilty of any proved crime, the consul would cause him to be punished. Their efforts were without success, and they returned to the consulate.
Upon this, Mr. Sullivan and the rest of his staff donned their uniforms, buckled on their swords, and proceeded in state to the yamun of the Taoutae. We watched that little band depart with beating hearts, for though brave was their bearing, their numbers were few, and we could not tell what might be the issue of this interview. When they entered the presence of the Intendant, the consul at once demanded the surrender of the prisoner. He met with a blank refusal. Nothing daunted, he persisted in his demand, brought forward the Register Book of the consulate, wherein was the entry. He proved that the Straitsman had been registered twice, once in July, 1849, again in March, 1850; he urged that he was in the employment of an Englishman at the time of his capture, and promised, first in words, then in an official letter which he wrote and sealed in the presence of the Taoutae, that were Tan-King-Chin really guilty of any conspiracy against the Chinese government (which was the alleged excuse for his arrest), he should be tried and punished by the British representatives.
When the conference had lasted about three hours, the commandant, Colonel Tan, made his appearance. He was a smooth-faced, oily mandarin, who had always affected intimacy with foreigners, and to him Mr. Sullivan appealed, requesting him, as a friend, to try and persuade the Taoutae to deliver up the unfortunate man. Colonel Tan appeared to yield to his entreaties, and conversed for some minutes in a low voice with the Intendant. He then told Mr. Sullivan that both he and the Taoutae would lose caste and influence with their people if they gave up the prisoner in that yamun, but if he and his com-
