1900 - Tracy Pitkin

July 1, 1900

Baoding, Hebei

Tracy Pitkin.

Horace Pitkin—better known by his middle name Tracy—was born in Philadelphia on October 28, 1869. He came from a respected family, eight generations removed from the pioneer William Pitkin (who arrived in New England in 1659), and related to Elihu Yale, the founder of the prestigious Yale University. As a boy Tracy was blessed with a sharp awareness of right and wrong, and also possessed an optimistic view of life and a keen sense of humour.

Being a missionary had not always been Pitkin’s focus. For some time it was his ambition to be an electrical engineer, but he changed his goals after a conversation with his uncle, the Rev. Elias R. Beadle, who told Pitkin that missionary work was the highest vocation a person could ever aspire to. Some of Pitkin’s classmates at Yale University went on to become highly successful in the eyes of the world (including Henry Luce, who later founded Time magazine), but Pitkin’s heart was set on different goals. His biographer wrote,

“The lesson of his life was this: he was not an extraordinary man, yet by absolute devotion and intense earnestness he accomplished extraordinary results…. He was not especially popular or well known by his class, yet beyond all the men in Yale of his time he accomplished in twelve glorious years of crowded life what no other Yale man of his class will do in a lifetime.”[1]

When he applied to the American Board for appointment to China, Pitkin wrote,

“My study has shown me the true depth and glorious possibilities of the missionary service, and I knew perfectly that God wanted me to work for Him in the uttermost parts of the earth. There has been no call from the clouds, but the facts of my life and the result of study inspired by, and carried on under God have been a sure and certain call to His work in the waste places.”[2]

On May 7, 1897, Tracy Pitkin and his wife Letitia (commonly known as Letty) arrived in China after stops at Paris, Rome, Greece, Palestine, Egypt, and India en route. The Pitkin’s reputation had preceded them. They were renowned for their literary and musical abilities and accomplishments. Tracy was a gifted pianist, while Letty was a fine singer and top-notch student. One book from the time stated, “When they arrived in China thoroughly consecrated to the work of saving souls, they came with an equipment in character and culture and knowledge of means and methods which augured for them a successful and brilliant career.”[3]

Although Pitkin devoted himself to what many people considered a lowly position as a missionary, the fact remained that he came from one of the wealthiest families in America at the time. It must have appeared strange in an era when missionaries were caricatured as impoverished and lacking all but the most basic necessities, when the Pitkins had a Steinway grand piano delivered to China. Fellow missionary Eva Price once visited the Pitkin home at Baoding. She was almost struck speechless by the elaborate furnishings:

“The luxurious couch, beautifully rich ‘Art Square’ on the floor, Egyptian screen bought in Cairo, easy chairs and grand sweet-toned piano (made to order), and, what made me green with envy, the ability of Mr. Pitkin in playing and that of his wife in singing. She sings beautifully while he is nearly perfect in accompanying. What resources! When one is nearly frantic with the poverty in music, refinement, cleanliness, and uprightness of this benighted land!”[4]

While the Pitkins were still engaged in the study of the Chinese language God blessed them with a little boy, Horace, who was born on March 29, 1898. Not long after the birth, Tracy made his first preaching trip to the countryside with a fellow missionary.

Letty struggled with life in China. She suffered from neuritis, an inflammation of a nerve that results in much pain, loss of reflexes, and muscular atrophy. Tracy sent her and little Horace back to America for medical attention in May 1900. The trip spared the lives of his beloved wife and son. On June 2, 1900, Tracy Pitkin wrote to his Christian colleagues in Beijing:

“It may be the beginning of the end. God rules and somehow His Kingdom must be brought about in China…. As for Baoding, Boxers drill in temples in the city, and officials are powerless. What our chances are is hard to tell. All along the officials have sent us a small guard, but they, although nice fellows enough, will be of no use. Whether the local Boxers have the courage to attack, I don’t know…. It’s a grand cause to die in. Jesus shall reign, but we do hope a long life may be for us in this work.”[5]

In many ways the experience of the China Inland Mission and Congregational Church workers was worse than their Presbyterian brethren, because they had to endure the night of June 30th knowing that their colleagues across the city had been slaughtered, and that the same fate awaited them the next day. That awful final night was “largely spent in consultation and prayer. Letters were written and an effort was made to conceal a few articles which would bring comfort to the friends, if they should receive them, and good-byes spoken, and then,—there was nothing to do but to wait.”[6]

That night Tracy Pitkin carefully dug a hole in the ground and buried three letters that he had written. One was to his wife, one to the mission, and one to the foreign soldiers that might arrive. The Pitkins’ servant, Lao Man was shown the spot in the hope he might escape the carnage and return to the mission and recover the letters. Pitkin asked Lao Man to tell his wife, “When Horace is twenty-five years old, I hope he will come to China and preach the Gospel in my place.”[7] Unfortunately, after the massacre, local people dug up every place in the compound where valuables might have been hidden, and the letters were taken.

At dawn the next morning, with heavy rain falling, the Boxers attacked the massive compound, which occupied some 100,000 sq. feet (9,290 sq. metres) of land. Pitkin, with a revolver in hand, mounted the steps of the church and fired, hoping to intimidate the attackers. For a time he held them at bay before he entered the church

“to be with the ladies and defended them through the windows of the church until his ammunition was exhausted, when they leaped out of the North West window into the school yard, and took refuge in a small room there. Out of this they were soon taken, and there he was slain, but without prolonged suffering. In one moment he passed into the presence of the martyred Stephen’s Lord. [Later] the Christians lifted his form from the pit where it had been placed with the bodies of nine others on that cruel day.”[8]

The Boxers cut off Pitkin’s head and offered it at the shrine of their god. At the funeral, the missionary’s body was placed in a neatly lined coffin and a red flannel covering was placed over it while the believers sang ‘Precious Name, Oh, How Sweet,’ and ‘When He Cometh to Make up His Jewels.’

Ironically, Tracy Pitkin had been preparing to preach his first sermon in Chinese on the day of his martyrdom. God graciously allowed his servant to give a message more powerful than words, the laying down of his life.[9]

1. Eddy, Horace Tracy Pitkin, 3.
2. Nat Brandt, Massacre in Shansi (Syracuse: Syracuse University Press, 1994), 166.
3. Ketler, The Tragedy of Paotingfu, 242.
4. Brandt, Massacre in Shansi, 166.
5. Ketler, The Tragedy of Paotingfu, 340-342.
6. Ketler, The Tragedy of Paotingfu, 381.
7. Ketler, The Tragedy of Paotingfu, 383.
8. Ketler, The Tragedy of Paotingfu, 386.
9. Also see Robert E. Speer, A Memorial of Horace Tracy Pitkin (New York: Fleming H. Revell Co. 1903).