In the end the rebellious princes surrendered, not from any feeling that Gordon’s presence would ensure the sparing of their lives, but because they believed—­just as General Ching shrewdly guessed they would—­that his presence in Soochow made it useless to continue the struggle.  Had they only been wise enough to retire gracefully from the field, all would have been well.  But they swaggered into Li’s presence.  “They appeared”—­so an eyewitness described the scene—­“rather like leaders in a position to dictate terms than men sharing in an act of clemency.”  They even had the audacity to suggest that Li should pay their soldiers—­their soldiers, who had fought him, mind you—­and divide the city of Soochow by a great wall, leaving half of it in rebel hands.

Naturally he refused to do either of these things; how could he possibly agree to such quixotic demands?  But through his refusal, he found himself face to face with the problem of what to do with the surrendered Wangs.  He might keep them prisoners—­that would be difficult; or he might summarily behead them—­and that would be easy.  The latter action must certainly be open to the ugly suspicion of treachery, but he had as his excuse that the city was under martial law, and that prompt and vigorous measures might be the means of saving more bloodshed in the end.  Accordingly he ordered the immediate execution of the surrendered chiefs.

When Gordon heard of it he was as angry as only a passionate nature such as his could be.  The idea that his unspoken word of honour to helpless prisoners had been broken for him made him mad with fury.  Out into the city he went, revolver in hand, to look for Li, and to avenge what he called the “murder.”  His sense of his own guilt was certainly morbid; morbid too was his treatment of the head of the Na Wang, which he found exposed in an iron lantern on one of the city gates.  He brought it home, kept it for days beside him, even laying it on his bed, and kneeling and asking forgiveness beside it.  The Na Wang’s son he adopted into his bodyguard.  No father could have treated his own child more tenderly.  I believe not once but a dozen times in an afternoon he would turn to the boy and ask wistfully, “Who are you?” receiving the same soft answer, “I am your son,” each time with the same pleasure.

Almost immediately after the decapitation of the Wangs, Gordon, still fuming with rage, suddenly determined to break off all relations with Li, to retire to Quinsan, and to take his “Ever-Victorious Army” with him.  Though his friends, singly and in company, did their best to dissuade him from this rash course, and pointed out the consequences, he would not listen, and he went.

The Chinese Government took fright at Gordon’s dramatic move—­there was no knowing what he might do next—­(I wonder if in the back of their minds they had a sneaking fear he might join the rebels like Burgevine?)—­and consequently they thought it wisdom to send the I.G. to make peace—­since peace was so badly needed.