The Board of Punishments, 1860
'Dead men tell no tales.' But survivors do.
Two weeks ago we visited 19th-century China through the eyes of Admiral Sir John Corbett, there as part of the British forces just after the Second Opium War but able to enjoy a visit to what was then Peking, and to stop and paint his delicate watercolours of the scenes (explored in the book Sailing for the Empire). I mentioned Harry Parkes, a diplomat who accompanied him on that excursion. Parkes has a darker story to tell.
Only eight months earlier, that war was not yet over. As well as armed engagements, prisoners were taken on both sides. In August 1860, the British took the city of Tianjin, a key trading port, and kidnapped its prefect. It’s perhaps not surprising that reprisals were taken – although when they did, the British were under the impression that a surrender was in the offing.
On 13th September, John Corbett wrote in a letter…
We hear that the rascally tartars laid a trap… Loch, Lord Elgin’s private secretary,1 Parkes, Consul and interpreter… the Times correspondent some officers and a detachment of… irregular cavalry… found themselves intercepted by an army of 30,000 tartars… most of the party have been captured, some killed.
Both Henry Loch (1827–1900) and Harry Parkes (1828–1885) would live to tell the tale. And both of them did.
Parkes and the others were captured by the Mongol general Sengge Rinchen (1811–1865), who was in charge of defence at Tianjin.
The earliest direct record of what happened that I can find is a letter Parkes wrote to his wife, although I haven’t managed to track down a full version, and I think we can assume he may have spared her many of the grim details anyway. But here’s what he told her about the initial capture (the ‘Prince of I’ is Zaiyuan, aka Prince Yi, a senior member of the Qing dynasty).
In a few minutes the three of us [he refers to himself, Loch and a cavalryman Sikh called Nal Singh] were put into a cart with two Frenchmen (who turned up as prisoners also at the same moment) and sent away to the Prince of I… Until you have tried it, you can form no idea of the pain and anguish of this conveyance when it goes along a paved road. The Prince of I could not be found, so we were taken to another notable, and again hurled on our knees. Feigning faintness [to avoid useless questions] I was removed into the air, and the three of us were surrounded as before by a throng of brutal and excited soldiery, taken thence to a house, searched, then brought before another mandarin, an officer on the Prince of I’s suite, again made to kneel and again examined [buffeted, and kicked]. While the examination was going on, he suddenly rose and went out, and immediately afterwards a number of soldiers with drawn swords rushed in, bound us, and carried us away, as I really feared, to execution. I cannot stay to dwell on these moments of horror, although prayer came to my relief. But instead of being murdered, we were again (all five) put into a cart and started off, as we soon found, to Peking…The journey [which lasted five hours] gave us dreadful suffering…
It was sunset before we reached the east gate of Peking, and 8 P.M. hefore our cart halted in a court of which it was then too dark to see anything. Lanterns were produced and again I shuddered, as I found that we were in the hands of the Board of Punishments, who may be classed with the officers of the Bastille or the Inquisition of Spain. Soon we were loaded with chains and carried before these inquisitors, who after a short examination ordered us to imprisonment in the common prisons, each prisoner to be confined in a separate prison, but among sixty or seventy of their own wretched felons.2
In 1869, Locke would write an extensive account (around 100 pages) of the weeks that ensued.3 I can’t possibly give due justice to it, but here is how he describes his initial imprisonment on 19th September:
[I] saw Parkes with a heavy chain from his neck being led along supported by two men, another following bearing a lantern… he was then taken through a dark doorway out of sight, and I was removed from the cart and led to the same door out of which Parkes had just come; it opened into a small room; on one side was a table, behind which three mandarins were seated. There were various iron implements lying on the table, and the walls were hung with chains and other disagreeable looking instruments, the use of which it was unpleasant too closely to investigate. On one side of the room was a low bench, at each end of which was a small windlass, round which a rope was coiled; the use to which this machine might be applied admitted of no doubt.
On entering, I was shoved down on my knees before the table, a man on either side laying hold of my hair and beard,—a number of questions were asked me, but as I did not understand Chinese, I could not answer them, and each time I failed to reply I got kicked and cuffed. My hat had been knocked off, and feeling the importance, if possible, of regaining it, for it was probable I might be greatly exposed to the sun, I made a movement to rise and get it, but was immediately knocked down and kicked. An iron collar was then secured round my neck, with a heavy chain extending to my feet. I again made signs to regain my hat, and, as much to my surprise as pleasure, a man picked it up and put it on my head. I was then led away to a courtyard, where I found Parkes seated on a bench, having irons fixed on his ankles,—they would not allow us to speak. Double irons were then attached to my ankles, the chain between being only about three inches long, and this was passed through one of the links of the chain from my neck; we were then led away in different directions.
He arrives at his new accommodation:
On one side of the room, running its whole length, was a wooden bench, extending about eight feet from the wall, sloping a little towards it; this was the sleeping place; chains hung down from several of the beams, reaching nearly to the bench, with the use of which I was soon to be made practically acquainted.
And goes on to detail life in the prison:
Every morning about sunrise the door was opened from the outside by the principal officials of the prison, who announced their approach by loud shouts; all the prisoners who were allowed the full use of their arms and legs, hurried into the yard, and were allowed to walk up and down, and occasionally they succeeded in obtaining a little water with which to wash…
About eight o'clock each morning I was taken inside and chained up to my beam, and given a bowl of rice. I was generally let into the yard again, as far as I could guess about eleven, and permitted to remain there until between three and four o'clock, when I was again chained up, and given my dinner, which was the same as my breakfast, with, at rare intervals, the addition of a little cabbage; after that I was allowed into the yard before being locked up for the night, which was always a little after sunset. The prisoners who were appointed to watch my movements, used to take every morning and night a small rag, and carefully examine and wash my neck and wrists where the ropes and irons had galled my skin. At first I was at a loss to know the reason of their care, but I soon became aware of the fearful consequences which they dreaded might ensue if this precaution had been neglected. There is a small maggot which appears to infest all Chinese prisons; the earth at the depth of a few inches swarms with them; they are the scourge most dreaded by every poor prisoner… Bound and helpless, the poor wretch cannot save himself from their approach, although he knows full well that if they once succeed in reaching his lacerated skin, there is the certainty of a fearful, lingering, and agonising death before him.
Despite what Parkes and Loch endured, they were the lucky ones. Parkes later reported that of 26 people he knew had been captured, only 11 survived. After 10 days, Parkes and Loch were moved to another prison, though kept in suspense as to whether they would be released or beheaded.4 And after their eventual release on 8th October, there was an extraordinary coda. Parkes tells the story:
We were well out of sight of the walls when we heard the sound of galloping behind us, and several horsemen approached frantically signalling us to stop. They were shocked to find that we had been sent away without any food and they begged us to enter a hut that stood by the roadside, [where] ‘our wants would be supplied immediately.’
We were in greater danger at that moment in reality than ever before. It appeared afterwards that the Emperor when flying from Peking had bethought him of the two English prisoners, and on the principle that ‘Dead men tell no tales’ had sent back peremptory orders that we should be summarily despatched. It seems Hang-Ki [actually Prince Gong, the Emperor’s brother] had got wind of this order before it was delivered, and, for reasons of his own, set us free before it arrived.5
For Harry Parkes, it was back to work immediately after his release, and in 1861 he oversaw the cession of Hong Kong to the British Crown. On his return to England in 1862, he was famous due to his captivity and knighted by Queen Victoria. He soon returned to China, before an 18-year stint as British consul-general in Japan, where he oversaw many developments such as the railway – his wife Fanny was the first known European woman to have ascended Mount Fuji. Parkes also served as British minister in Korea; he died of malarial fever in Beijing in 1885.
Henry Loch lived a longer life, but the stint in prison had taken its toll, and his health never fully recovered. For 20 years he stayed closer to home, although was also instrumental in railway-building – this time on the Isle of Man. In later life he was governor of Victoria in Australia and high commissioner in South Africa. He was made a baron in 1895 and died in 1900.
As I said, they were relatively lucky. Next time I’ll the story of a man who wasn’t, and the political consequences that echo to this very day.
Elgin was British High Commissioner in China and led the bombardment of Canton in the war. He was the son of the marble thief we’ve met before.
Published in Sir Harry Parkes in China by Stanley Lane-Poole (1901).
Personal Narrative of Occurrences during Lord Elgin’s Second Embassy to China.
Some of the surviving Sikhs gave horrific accounts of torture inflicted on them, but I don’t think it’s helpful to repeat these details here.
Somewhat bafflingly, this part of Parkes’s story is preserved in a book called The Notebooks of a Spinster Lady, 1878–1903. She was in fact Caroline Holland, the granddaughter of our friend Sydney Smith – Parkes told her his story in person in 1880. She is also the main source for the famous alleged line of Queen Victoria, ‘We are not amused.’
Wow - what a very frightening ordeal to have survived!! I'm sure there were details he probably shared only with very close friends... They'd likely give nightmares to his wife and family.