OR,

A CONSTANTINIAN CONFLICT IN THE LAND OF SINIM BETWEEN PROTESTANTISM IN ARMS, AND CELESTIAL IDOLATRY.

Some time since we were enabled to inform our readers that there were strong grounds for believing that the great and singular movement which, during the last eighteen months, has been rapidly making head in China, and which threatens, or, perhaps we should say promises, before many months shall elapse, to effect a complete revolution in that immense empire, had its origin in a religious motive, and that the foundation upon which it was based was the rock of Christianity. We are happy now to state that this deeply interesting information has been indisputably confirmed by the tidings which have reached us from that quarter of the world within the last week.

It will be remembered that when the English mail left the Chinese waters early in the month of April last, it was reported that an engagement had recently taken place between the insurgents and the imperial forces before the walls of Nankin, and that it was doubtful, from the confused and imperfect intelligence which was spread upon the subject, on which side the victory had fallen. On the one hand it was loudly proclaimed that the insurgents had sustained a severe defeat—on the other it was as confidently asserted that they had obtained a decided victory, and that great city of Nankin, as well as the neighbouring important town of Ching-kiang-foo, were in their possession.

To resolve the doubt, and, if possible, to collect some more authentic information than had yet been received as to the nature and object of the insurrectionary movement, Sir George Bonham, her Majesty’s chief representative in the Chinese seas, determined to make an expedition to the seat of the rebellion, and to place himself in communication with some of its leaders. Accordingly, just before the April mail left China, he set out in her Majesty’s ship Hermes with the intention of making his way up the river, and of proceeding as far as the walls of Nankin itself. By the mail which arrived from China only a few days ago, we receive the gratifying intelligence that Sir George returned to Shang-hae on the 5^th of May, having completely succeeded in accomplishing the objects of the expedition. He had ascertained that the insurgents were in actual possession of Nankin, which had been reduced to ruins, but which they were, nevertheless, strongly defending—that they were also in possession of Ching-kiang-foo—and that they were only awaiting the arrival of reinforcements from the south, before they proceeded on their way to Pekin. More than this, he had succeeded in bringing himself into communication with several of the insurgent chiefs, from whom he had gathered a mass of information respecting the character and object of the insurrection, in the deep and vital interest of which every European reader must warmly sympathise. Of all the mighty and mysterious movements at this moment impending or actually in progress, upon the face of the earth, it would appear that this movement of the Chinese is the most striking and the most pregnant with hopeful and salutary consequences for the time to come.

It is now ascertained beyond the possibility of doubt that the insurgents are Protestants and anti-idolaters of the strictest order. They acknowledge but One God, the Heavenly Father, the All-wise, All-powerful, and Omnipresent Creator of the world; with him, Jesus Christ, as the Saviour of mankind; and also the Holy Spirit, as the last of the Three Persons of the Trinity. Their chief on earth is a person known as “Tae-ping-wang, the Prince of Peace,” to whom a kind of divine origin and mission is ascribed Far, however, from claiming adoration, he forbids in an edict the application to himself of the terms “Supreme,” “Holy,” and others, hitherto constantly assumed by the Emperors of China, but which he declines receiving on the ground that they are due to God alone. Furthermore, it appears that the insurgents have adopted a moral code which they call the “Heavenly Rules,” and which, upon examination, Sir George Bonham ascertained to be no other than the “Ten Commandments.” The observance of these, we are told, is strictly enforced by the leaders of the movement, chiefly Kwang-tung and Kwang-se, men who are not merely formal professors of a religious system, but practical and spiritual Protestants, deeply influenced by the belief that God is always with them. With proud humility, and with the glistening eyes of gratitude, they point back to the fact, that, at the beginning of their enterprise, some forty years ago, they numbered but 100 or 200 followers, and that, except for the direct help of their Heavenly Father, they never could have done what they have done. “They,” said one, speaking of the Imperialists, “spread all kind of lies about us. They say we employ magical arts. The only kind of magic we have used is prayer to God.”

From men thus actuated and controlled, ultimate success cannot be long withheld. Their objects are to overthrow and to expel the hated dynasty of the Mantchoo Tartars—to restore the throne to the descendants of the ancient Chines dynasty of Ming—to purge the land of the gross and foul idolatry which has so long debased and disgraced it, and henceforward to place the Empire within the fold of pure and uncorrupted Christianity.

It must be confessed that these—or, at any rate, the last two—are noble aims; and, now that we are thoroughly acquainted with them, it becomes even more manifest than it was before that no foreign interposition of any kind whatever should be made, either by ourselves or by any other State, to thwart or impede the progress of a movement which promises to be productive of results so beneficial and so vast.

The insurgents are represented as being full of hope; but at the same time manfully prepared to endure the consequences of a reverse. “If it be the will of God,” they say, “that our Prince of Peace shall be the Sovereign of China, he will be the Sovereign of China; if not, we will die here.”

Contrasted with this, the perturbation and alarm exhibited by the Emperor are almost pitiable. “I am filled with apprehension,” says he, “and I humbly entreat august Heaven to pardon my offences and save my poor people.” He then issues a proclamation summoning the great offices and all the people of the Empire to a solemn sacrifice to the gods; and at the same time repeats his exhortations to his army to be stouter of heart and more valorous, and not to persist in what he calls the “detestable” practice of “running away” the moment they are brought face to face with the enemy.

Now that the nature of the movement in China is thoroughly ascertained and distinctly understood, its future progress will necessarily be watched with the deepest interest by the whole Protestant world.

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