Hermit of Peking: The Hidden Life of Sir Edmund Backhouse

by Hugh Trevor-Roper

The trail of discovery began when Hugh Trevor-Roper received the memoirs of Sir Edmund Backhouse, the celebrated Chinese scholar, in somewhat unusual circumstances. They described a very different person from the one who had apparently lived such a respectable life until his death in 1944. In them, Backhouse claimed that he had been intimate with characters as diverse as Verlaine and Lord Roseberry, and that his many lovers (of both sexes) had included the Dowager Empress of China. It gradually became clear that the detailed, plausible and obscene memoirs were a work of fantasy – yet a fantasy interwoven with detailed fact. Intrigued, Hugh Trevor-Roper set out to discover as much as he could about Sir Edmund Backhouse, and unearthed the story of one the most outrageous confidence tricksters of the century.

Genres: Biography, History, China, Nonfiction, Asia, Crime, Espionage

316 pages, Hardcover

First published October 1, 1976

About the author

Hugh Redwald Trevor-Roper, Baron Dacre of Glanton, was an English historian. He was Regius Professor of Modern History at the University of Oxford.
Trevor-Roper was a polemicist and essayist on a range of historical topics, but particularly England in the 16th and 17th centuries and Nazi Germany. In the view of John Philipps Kenyon, "some of [Trevor-Roper's] short essays have affected the way we think about the past more than other men's books". This is echoed by Richard Davenport-Hines and Adam Sisman in the introduction to One Hundred Letters from Hugh Trevor-Roper (2014): "The bulk of his publications is formidable ... Some of his essays are of Victorian length. All of them reduce large subjects to their essence. Many of them ... have lastingly transformed their fields." On the other hand, his biographer Adam Sisman also writes that "the mark of a great historian is that he writes great books, on the subject which he has made his own. By this exacting standard Hugh failed."
Trevor-Roper's most commercially successful book was titled The Last Days of Hitler (1947). It emerged from his assignment as a British intelligence officer in 1945 to discover what happened in the last days of Hitler's bunker. From interviews with a range of witnesses and study of surviving documents, he demonstrated that Hitler was dead and had not escaped from Berlin. He also showed that Hitler's dictatorship was not an efficient unified machine but a hodge-podge of overlapping rivalries.
Trevor-Roper's reputation was "severely damaged" in 1983 when he authenticated the Hitler Diaries shortly before they were shown to be forgeries.

Reviews

[Tony · Rating 5 out of 5]

So often our reading journeys take predictable paths. We read the same authors, same genres, same subjects. I have a friend who reads every book published about Winston Churchill; and he's read hundreds. I don't offer that as a criticism - it's nice to be an expert in something; and I have my own thing going with Abraham Lincoln and Theodore Roosevelt. But it's nice sometimes to pick a subject, and an author, that I've never heard of. As here.

I did not know of Sir Edmund Backhouse, nor this book's author, Hugh Trevor-Roper. And I have no particular interest in early 20th Century Chinese court politics or Oxford Sinologists. I'm not even sure what piqued my interest in the first place. Maybe it was the promise of salacious details. But it could have been that this was a story of fraud and forgery, of mysterious papers, and the unmasking, unraveling of it all. Who doesn't love a scoundrel? Better yet, who doesn't love a scoundrel that can successfully deceive Lord Kitchener?

There was some Greek dude named Hesiod (another name I didn't recognize, but anyway . . .) who said: We know how to tell many lies, which seem true; and we know, when we want, how to tell the truth. That could be, our author tells us, the motto of Sir Edmund Backhouse. From a family of Quaker origins and the son of a respected banker, Backhouse displayed a gift for languages and did well at Oxford, while still managing to become bankrupt. He eventually (I'm skipping much) gets to China where he co-authors two standard works of Chinese history, donates a large collection of Chinese books and manuscripts to Oxford's library, brokers arms deals and the sale of battleships, acts as a secret agent for the British military, and becomes the paramour of literary greats, a British prime minister, the Empress Dowager of China, and a few thousand eunuchs.

Or not . . . to any of it!

The story, an exposé, would not have been told except that Trevor-Roper, a distinguished historian once connected with the British Secret Service, was presented by a nervous Swiss executive with two volumes of Backhouse's memoirs. If suitable, perhaps they too could be donated to the prestigious library. The author was warned that the memoirs were profoundly explicit.

Indeed, Trevor-Roper found the memoirs were "of no ordinary obscenity." But what really intrigued him was that the memoirs, although plausible, might actually be mere fantasy. So, the author conducts some literary sleuthing. He found Backhouse to have "general charm" and to be "a most persuasive talker." Indeed, his recorded narrations are remarkable for their intelligence and detail. He had "a remarkable gift of plausibility." But his eyes . . . a Swiss physician with some understanding of psychoanalysis described him thusly:

. . .his eyes were remarkable for the very different expressions they were able to show in rapid succession . . . They might at one moment have the quiet look of an old scholar, quite in line with beard, dress and refined politeness; suddenly they became the eyes of a monk in religious ecstasy, to change again into the eyes of an old salacious profligate with a very clever cunning look which gave the face a certain resemblance to that of Aretino in Titian's painting in the Pitti Palace in Florence. It was the eyes that betrayed the fact that the first and dominant impression of an old scholar represented only part of his personality.

And there is a picture within that shows his playful eyes. Ah, what a scoundrel!

I haven't enjoyed a book this much since the pandemic started, and longer. And this book made me - made me - order two more books. A whole new reading path.

[Krista · Rating 4 out of 5]

I hope that, in spite of many questions still unanswered, this brief study with nevertheless fulfil its purpose: that it will answer questions that have long been discussed about Backhouse's work, and provide a truer history than has hitherto been available about the mystery man whom a Chinese scholar has described to me as “though a recluse, certainly the most interesting and colourful of the Europeans of his time in China”.

The year was 1973 and Hugh Redwald Trevor-Roper – eventual Baron Dacre of Glanton, Regius Professor of Modern History at the University of Oxford, author of countless influential treatises on the philosophy of historical research, and former MI5 agent – was contacted out of the blue by a Swiss scientist who wished for him to inspect, and if he deemed them appropriate, to pass on to the Bodleian Library at Oxford, two volumes of memoir by the long dead and nearly forgotten sinologist, Sir Edmund Trelawny Backhouse, 2nd Baronet. Further, this Swiss scientist wished to hand over the memoir in person as the contents were too inconvenient to send through the post. As Trevor-Roper received and then examined said memoir, he immediately understood the Swiss concern: In graphic and obscene detail, Backhouse filled his two volumes with a veritable Who's Who of famous people he allegedly slept with at the turn of the twentieth century – literary stars, well known politicians, several Empresses, and Imperial Eunuchs. In trying to confirm the details of what appeared surely fantastical, Trevor-Roper was led deeper and deeper into the warren of filled-in rabbitholes that were all that remained of Backhouse's outsized and incredible life. What Trevor-Roper learned of Backhouse and assembled into his biography, Hermit of Peking, makes for a fascinating story of one man's life, but even moreso, it gives much to consider about the details from history that we accept as “true”: history is not just written by the victors, but sometimes too, by conmen. Part history, part scavenger hunt, written in a wry but Oxfordly donnish tone, I found this book to be equal parts enlightening and entertaining.

There's far too much detail to go over all of Backhouse's life here, but the most important fact seems to be that he was a gifted linguist who ended up in Peking in the late 1890's and was eventually the coauthor, with J. O. P. Bland, of two very influential books on the end of the Manchu Dynasty (China Under the Empress Dowager and Annals and Memoirs of the Court of Peking). The first of these works was primarily based on a diary that Backhouse had found in the study of a Court official (Ching-shan, who had had to flee his home during the Boxer Rebellion), and Backhouse would eventually donate this rare and valuable document (along with tens of thousands of other Chinese manuscripts) to the Bodleian Library at Oxford (where he attended, but never earned a degree, and where his name is still inscribed on a tablet today as a major benefactor). There was controversy over the years as to the authenticity of this diary, but so far as Trevor-Roper could ascertain, no one ever suspected or accused Backhouse himself of forgery or fraud relating to it. And yet...

So ended the story of Backhouse's career as an entrepreneur. It had been a glorious career – or rather a glorious pipe-dream – while it lasted. Fleets of battleships, millions of bank-notes, arms for warring nations, imperial jewels, had been the substance of it. Cabinet ministers, industrial magnates, high financiers, envoys extraordinary of four nations had been involved. But now all was over.

Through Trevor-Roper's dogged research, he was able to discover many instances of forgery and fraud committed by Backhouse throughout the non-literary areas of his career. It would seem that most people, companies, and even governments, who suffered from dealings with Backhouse over the years attempted to bury and forget their interactions with him – Trevor-Roper several times refers to them collectively as a “nest of gulls” – but from a line in this man's diary or a veiled reference in some other's telegram, the historian found himself led to bigger and wider intrigues than he could have imagined. Even after Hermit of Peking was set to go to press, Trevor-Roper was directed to a single reference to Backhouse in the archives of the Foreign Office which led to the entire project being recalled so he could add a new chapter – on Backhouse's efforts as an arms-dealing secret agent for Britain during WWI – that caused the historian to rethink everything he thought he knew about Backhouse. What can we really know about any historic figure outside of eyewitness accounts? And what if we can't trust the eyewitness accounts?

In this dream-world of Backhouse's autobiography, two recurrent features deserve attention. One is the uncertainty of the boundary between fact and fiction. The iridescent centre of the web is too obviously a work of art, deliberately spun. But where exactly does the web of fantasy meet the solid thorns of fact? Through the mysterious Backhousian twilight it is difficult to distinguish the gossamer from the twig. Sometimes a shaft of external light enables us to do so at one particular point; but without such external aid we can never be sure. We know that fiction, at some point, is joined to reality; but the point of contact escapes the naked eye.

Ultimately, Trevor-Roper demonstrates conclusively that we can't trust anything from Backhouse: his business and interpersonal dealings were shady, his memoirs are a fantasy, and as Ching-shan's diary was eventually proven to be a forgery, we can presume that it was Backhouse who wrote it. Which brings up all kinds of interesting philosophical questions about the reliability of primary sources (Backhouse was not remembered to history as a fraudster until the memoirs he wrote, which were penned in part to support the material in Ching-shan's diary, were brought to light in a more liberal age; he might still be quoted as a reliable source had not Trevor-Roper begun this investigation). I also found it very interesting/ironic to learn from Trevor-Roper's Wikipedia page that: 1) He believed that preliterate societies (and in particular, African societies prior to European exploration) had no history at all because it wasn't written down, and 2) The nadir of his career was when he inaccurately authenticated the so-called Hitler Diaries. So, you can't trust history if it isn't written down, and as Trevor-Roper definitely learned, you can't trust everything that is written down. Fascinating stuff; so much more than there's room to share.

[David · Rating 4 out of 5]

Superb biography of a strange man, but not so strange when one considers the British expatriate, sophisticated with a devil-may-care regard for his and others' circumstances at a given time. Trevor-Roper actually uses Backhouse's experience as an entry into a history of arcane Chinese politics early in the 20th century. When reading about Backhouse, you get an eery feeling that if you sat down with him in his study, he might poison you for unspecified reasons.

By the way, his family say that his name is pronounced "Backus".

[Anna · Rating 5 out of 5]

I cannot for the life of me remember how this book ended up on my to read list years ago, but I wish I could thank whoever recommended it to me. The whole thing is a delight. It begins cautiously, with the historian Hugh Trevor-Roper recounting how he ended up with the memoirs of Sir Edmund Backhouse. He drops hints about their shocking contents, ominously mentions various subjects and persons that will be returned to, then begins his biography of Backhouse. There is a rapid sense of escalation, as Backhouse’s shenanigans go from student debt to defrauding the Bodleian library to arguably treason. Trevor-Roper has reconstructed as much as he can of Backhouse’s life from secondary sources, as the man himself is the very epitome of an unreliable narrator. In fact, the main constant throughout his life seems to have been spectacular lies. What is especially fascinating about these confabulations, however, is the readiness of many apparently sensible people to believe them. This says much about the privilege conveyed by Backhouse’s persona as an wise aristocratic old professor (despite never having actually finished his undergraduate degree). He seems to have been both extremely convincing in person and adept at subsequently wriggling out of the difficult situations resulting from his fantastic falsehoods.

I found the tone that Trevor-Roper takes with Backhouse rather amusing. It reminds me of a long-suffering parent, who is no longer surprised by but resigned to the ridiculous behaviour of their offspring. There is definite affection there rather than dismissal and disgust, however there is also sympathy for friends that turned against Backhouse after he misled and swindled them. At the end of the book, Trevor-Roper finally turns to Backhouse’s memoirs, which he has dropped intriguing hints about throughout. Despite the deliberately matter of fact tone in which he describes their contents, the memoirs seem pretty jaw-dropping. As Trevor-Roper puts it: ‘Whatever their claims as literature or history, the two volumes can in fact be best entitled ‘The imaginary sexual life of E. T. Backhouse, 1. in the literary and political world of the 1890s, 2. at the court of T’zu-hsi’.’ Backhouse’s memoirs apparently recount in great detail his having affairs with, amongst many others, Paul Verlaine, Lord Alfred Douglas, Oscar Wilde, Lord Rosebery (British Prime Minister from 1894 - 1895), Caroline Otero (a famous opera singer), a nephew of a Russian prince, an Ottoman princess, the Empress Dowager of China, and a great many eunuchs. Trevor-Roper was clearly getting a little tired of this once he reached the second volume of the memoirs, to wit: ‘We need not seek exactitude in such matters, nor follow Backhouse in his indefatigable reiteration. We read on, and, with some relief, find ourselves in the cleaner air of mere conspiracy and murder.’

Although Sir Edmund Backhouse remains somewhat enigmatic throughout, the reader is certainly given enough information to form an opinion on the man. He must have been a nightmare to have as a close friend - wholly unreliable, always borrowing money, never repaying, disappearing unexpectedly, full of dubious schemes. On the other hand, his charm was such that many did not want to believe that he could possibly have meant to mislead them. He had a considerable talent for languages and, it seems, forgery, although his academic credentials are rather doubtful. I cannot help reluctantly admiring his sheer effrontery, his refusal to accept reality and instead substitute his own imaginings. This is obviously clearest in his memoirs, a version of his life as he would have liked it to be, or as he liked to imagine it was. Living as a mysterious hermit and fantasist seems harmless, until you recall the chaos of his attempts to be an entrepreneur, secret agent, and academic writer. Still, it’s a fascinating life to read about, both the real and imagined elements.

I was wondering if Backhouse’s memoirs would ever be published, then searched goodreads to find that one volume has been: Décadence Mandchoue: The China Memoirs of Sir Edmund Trelawny Backhouse. I see that the blurb describes the memoirs as ‘controversial’ and implies that they could well be true. On the basis of Trevor-Roper’s evidence that seems highly unlikely, but they must be an extraordinary piece of historical literary fantasy. The previous volume recounting his adventures with the European decadents sadly does not seem to be available yet.

[John Anthony · Rating 4 out of 5]

I was keen to read this as Backhouse's family lived in a neighbouring village to the one where I grew up in North Yorkshire and my family used the bank owned by his father. I therefore found his early life and family background very interesting but there wasn't a lot of it.

The black sheep of the family, EB was a gifted sinologist who virtually ran away to China where he led a strange life. Double dealing and forgery seem to have been his specialities, though masked in respectability and EB was forever suing anyone who dared to accuse him. I became irritated with him, his predictable fraudulence and his weak character. Nonetheless the mystery of his life was quite compelling.

HTR doesn't like his subject and is anti-homosexual. Normally therefore I would have given Backhouse the benefit of the doubt but he doesn't attract sympathy.

It was not easy trying to sort out the names of various Chinese officials – eunuchs and statesmen – they all sound the same. I became somewhat impatient with the book and was pleased to finish it.

I found the Chinese history c 1910, with the overthrow of the monarchy etc very interesting, together with the roles of Morrison and Bland, journalists/correspondents for The Times.

[Louise · Rating 3 out of 5]

As in a work of fiction, author Hugh Trevor-Roper, takes the reader through his subject’s life as a scholar and translator (primarily Chinese but also Russian, Japanese and Greek), a philanthropist, a shipbuilder’s sales representative, a purveyor of military arms, a vendor for banknotes and a dealer in rare manuscripts and curios. Since Sir Edmund Backhouse is a little known person, few readers will know (but will surely suspect) his character until the end.

Backhouse is reported as handsome, charming and every inch an aristocrat. Some report him as oversensitive, perhaps because he is gay at a time when it was illegal.

He had an impeccable family background. His title came from being a first son. His family owned a bank. His father was a friend of the prime minister. His brother was an admiral. Family connections propelled him to his first prestigious position in representing the shipbuilders. On his own, he created a reputation as a scholar and benefactor that also led to his obtaining responsible positions.

There are no photocopies to leave a trail; no internet to share information. News from far away languages (especially with character based text) was not widely shared. Diplomats and businessmen most likely trusted Backhouse’s upper crust credentials. They did not ask the elemental questions:

Why was he living in China?
What exactly were his connections to the Chinese Empress and her court?

The last chapters on Trevor-Roper’s analysis of Backhouse and his world were helpful, but not fully satisfying. Some of this is surely the times. There are many more psychological sources now than there were in the 1970’s when this was written.

The text is formal. The author often uses foreign language expressions without translation. The index helped me find aforementioned names. There are six B & W photos, the two of Backhouse being the best.

While the person is fascinating, unless you have a deep interest in China around 1900-1940 you may want to pass this one up.

[Jonfaith · Rating 4 out of 5]

Such a fascinating research! Trevor-Roper teems with erudition and wit and wraps the matter conclusively, punctuating that ultimately Sir Edmund Backhouse despite his mendacity and frauds was but Our Man in Havana: simply drawing vacuum cleaners, pathetic and harmless.

[Richard Bartholomew · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is a very strange tale, in which the noted historian pieces together in remarkable detail the life of an aristocratic fantasist who resided for many years in China.

As a psychological investigation, the book is intriguing: Blackhouse left Oxford a bankrupt at the end of the nineteenth century, having wasted a fortune buying jewellery for actresses; in China he became a skilled translator, but his various fantasies drew in, and ultimately disappointed, the Bodleian (which was led to believe he had a treasure-trove of rare books that never arrived); the British government (for whom Blackhouse promised to negotiate the purchase of a large amount of weapons for use in World War One); the American Bank Note Company (which expected a significant contract with the Chinese government); and a number of Sinologists, who accepted his story of discovering a diary of great historical value for interpreting modern China. After all this, and after a lifetime of apparent celibacy, in old age he composed a pornographic memoir of bogus meetings with late-nineteenth century bohemians and preposterous sexual exploits, including servicing the aged Dowager Empress; he then converted to Catholicism and chose to end his days under Japanese occupation - of which he approved - rather than accept repatriation.

Trevor-Roper convincingly diagnoses this arc as showing how "the empty aesthetic élitism of the late nineteenth century was converted gradually into the brutal, hollow, glittering, sadistic élitism which was one of the constituent elements of fascism...Only in the purulent atmosphere of the decaying Manchu court could a pale reflection of English decadence linger on until it could be ravished and possessed by the brutal, but still perverted masculinity of fascist Führerprinzip".

As a historical account, the book is also very rich: the longstanding rivalry between two correspondents for the "Times" (who both used Blackhouse) is a major theme, and we meet a number of British imperial officials and players. Religion does not feature very much, although Bishop Frank Norris of Peking appears, assisting Blackhouse with some day-to-day matters, and there is a legal dispute with the missionary Kenneth Scott Latourette, who criticised the value of a book co-written by Blackhouse.

As a narrative, the story is at times a page-turner; however, the fiascos which Blackhouse causes again and again gradually lose their black comic interest as their inevitablity becomes depressingly repetitive. At the end, I could not help but feel irritated that I had given so much time (nearly 400 pages) in the company of a man who claimed to have had intimate links with many notable persons, but who in fact, we discover, was far less significant.

The index is written with wit. Best entry: "Brown, John, Queeen Victoria's Ghillie...a eunuch? if not, why not? 306"

[Scott · Rating 4 out of 5]

Cloaked under layers of seeming respectability, profound scholarship, and irresistible charm, Sir Edmund Backhouse's secret and fraudulent life went undetected for nearly thirty years until his outrageous and obscene memoirs fell into the hands of noted Oxbridge historian Hugh Trevor-Roper. Drawing upon business records, correspondence, memoranda, and Backhouse's own memoirs of life during the waning years of the Manchu dynasty, Trevor-Roper reveals the "Hermit of Peking"'s fantastic life of deception and forgery that beguiled and embarrassed some of the most powerful men in Britain. The author's extensive research and clear, forceful style build a damning case against Backhouse, as he calls into question every facet of the sinologue's scholarship, business relations, and social contacts. Trevor-Roper's compelling argument leaves us wondering how so many intelligent and accomplished men could have fallen for Backhouse's chicanery. Ironically, only a few years after publishing The Hermit of Peking, Trevor-Roper was caught up in the Hitler diary scandal, and like the scholars, statesmen, and businessmen who fell for Backhouse's fabulous schemes, he too was duped by a clever forger.

[Peter Blair · Rating 4 out of 5]

A wild tale, written very well (though it is occasionally repetitive in its summings up and could have been a bit shorter), and (somewhat incidentally though notably) another entry in the annals of "spiritual fascism." I read a review that described it as like an intelligence dossier in form/structure, which really does capture the feel of it.

[Anson Cassel Mills · Rating 3 out of 5]

This is an extraordinary example of biographical sleuthing by the fine English stylist Hugh Trevor-Roper (1914-2003), Regius Professor of Modern History at Oxford. Edmund Backhouse (1873-1944) was supposedly a gifted Sinologist, long resident in China; but under Trevor-Roper’s steady gaze, he is revealed as a pathological deceiver and pornographer who, despite gentlemanly manners and extraordinary persuasiveness, was in the words of the DNB, “litigious, profligate, and a gross snob.” Remarkably, as Trevor-Roper notes, Backhouse seems to have been “almost magically protected from all the effects of his own actions….sailing calmly through the stormiest seas” while “his successive victims sank spluttering in his wake.” (292-93) Ultimately prospective readers need to ask themselves whether they are prepared to devote the time to learn more about such a charlatan, even when the exposition derives from the elegant hand of Trevor-Roper.

[Jane E · Rating 4 out of 5]

What a rogue! I can never understand people who spend their time trying to fool others and in this case often for no real profit. It is especially difficult to understand Backhouse's motives when he was an acknowledged language wizard fluent in Mandarin, Russian, Mongolian and several other languages who spent much of his adult life in Beijing. You would think that his skills and contacts should have made him successful enough to have not needed to seek kudos from other schemes.

The author has done a terrific job in tracking down what records there are concerning Backhouse whose exploits were well buried during and after his lifetime. Definitely worth the read. (Purchased secondhand at Miami International Book Fair)

[Erik Graff · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a biography of Sir Edmund Backhouse, 2nd Baronet (1873-1944), Sinologist, forger, swindler and aspirant pornographer, the details of whose life are patchy, obscure and intriguing. Indeed, it was owing to his having written an extraordinary autobiography filled with world-historical, not to mention salacious, detail that historian Trevor-Roper was called upon as an advisor. Trevor-Roper's researches having exposed a pattern of fraud and fantasy, the autobiography was never published. This partial reconstruction of Backhouse's peculiar life was the result.

[Laurie · Rating 2 out of 5]

It' s my fault. Really it is. H. T.-R.'s writing is engaging and he keeps the narration moving. This just wasn't the biography I had hoped to read. I wanted more, much, much, more about how Backhouse lived during his years in China. Instead, this biography centers around Backhouse' dishonest business dealings, scandals relating to his published books, troubled relationships with family and friends and over-all flimsiness of character. Which will still make this interesting to many if Backhouse is your mains interest, not his life in China.

[JJ W · Rating 4 out of 5]

Highly recommended for any China buffs. Entertaining, precise detective work that systematically picks apart the facade of the cultivated hermit gentleman for the fabricator and trickster he was. Great history, great personal stories. I'd have given it five stars if the author hadn't been so negative about Backhouse's sexual proclivities.

[Adam]

Got this solely for the delightful cover

[Steve Warsaw · Rating 5 out of 5]

Liking this book came as a surprise to me. When it was suggested and placed in my hands I quickly looked at the publishing year--1977, and was sceptical that I would like it. Moreover, it was historical non fiction about a real person so I was expecting a droll slog. Well, in this case life imitates art in that Backhouse was a darker real version of Walter Mitty. He lived an unbelievable life intellectually, yet it's riddled with massive fraud, forgeries, and over the top salaciousness. Suffice to say Hermit surprised me,,,pleasantly.

[Robert · Rating 2 out of 5]

Mystery surrounds not just the subject here but the alleged way the memoirs came into the hands of the author. And indeed the author himself.
Trevor-Roper, of course, had been given the extraordinary access and title to examine the last days of the Third Reich. It has never been explained, to this day, how a fairly junior intelligence officer came to be given this fabulous plum appointment which, of course, set him up in some style for the rest of his life. And made an Englishman the go-to figure in the world on anything to do with Germany for the next 40 years.
Here, he was, apparently, contacted by a Swiss doctor and handed this (farcical) memoir or diary.
Backhouse probably existed, lived in poverty during world changing events in Imperial China (and its aftermath) and was an accomplished con artist. But that's about it. No one for a moment nowadays believes the tales Backhouse told in which poetic licence is taken almost to the level of dementia,
Far more interesting is the enigmatic figure of Trevor Roper himself.
Why was the book written? Who was Roper actually working for? Was he working for the State to in some way undermine (post Mao) China?
Trevor Roper is as slippery, and elusive, as Graham Greene. Or Backhouse.

[Joe Robson · Rating 3 out of 5]

This book was written by an arsehole about a different type of arsehole, and most of it bored me to tears. It's like if a bank manager had a gun to his head and had to write "the most exciting international gay crime caper he could imagine", so out of spite he decided to make the main character alternately pathetic and conniving and describe most of the action through letters and account books.

I think I liked the cover more than the actual story. Trevor-Roper was a racist imperialist who was subsequently duped- like so many people were by Backhouse- by the forgers of the Hitler Diaries in the 1980s. He is openly disgusted by Backhouse's homosexuality, and totally puzzled as to how a man could possibly want nothing to do with England or English people. Yes, I wonder why a gay man would want to leave a country where being gay was a crime. Backhouse wasn't a 'hermit', he just didn't want to associate with people like Trevor-Roper.

Oh, and the amount of time TR spends whinging about Backhouse's liberal use of Greek and Chinese in his memoirs is rich considering TR himself manages to include two or three (sometimes made-up) French words every page or so.

[ingrid · Rating 4 out of 5]

Read a review of this book, written in 1977, in the Wall Street Journal. A bit "heady" but fascinating. The true story of (Sir) Edmund Backhouse, an amazing confidence man. Born in England and lived mostly in Peking. He conned the pants off everyone and inserted himself through fantasy into the histories of many famous peoples' lives. Had to get it from the Balt. City library...hard to find and not cheap to buy! Author is (was-now deceased) a respected historian.He had to do some SERIOUS digging to get at all the facts.

[Terry · Rating 3 out of 5]

This book describes the life of an English eccentric who lives in Peking during the tumultuous events at the turn of the century. He invents diaries and sells them for lots of money. His imagination makes him well known as he writes books and sells weapons to nonexistent customers. The book is fairly entertaining, and it gives a good glimpse of life in China at this time.

[Harris Maslowe · Rating 1 out of 5]

A bit of a 'snoozer' about a guy who was almost interesting. A bit of a born loser type who managed to have a much more intesting life than most people (including me). There were some things of interest in how he navigated his unlikely life, but in the end the book was a bit slow and plodding. I learned a bunch and nothing all at the same time.

[Daniel · Rating 4 out of 5]

Apparently long out of print, but my stepdad tracked down a copy as a Christmas present, telling me it was one of his favorite books. I found it to be an excellently paced biography of an inscrutable man.

[Qmmayer · Rating 4 out of 5]

An interesting, breezy read. Mainly about a very peculiar life, but some of the China backdrop seeps through as well. I didn't always care for the author's use of "we'll get to this later," but his voice -- present throughout the book -- eventually won me over.

[Yooperprof · Rating 2 out of 5]

Would have made a good 50 page article. As a 300 page book - no. Very repetitive.

[Eileen Carr · Rating 4 out of 5]

This non-fiction book is a compelling account of a compelling character—Edmund Backhouse-- that few have ever heard of. A true eccentric who lived most of his adult life in China, he was known to many contempories for his love of solitude and Chinese history, dressing in traditional long Chinese robes and cultivating the persona of a harmless but wise scholar.

In fact, he was entirely unscrupulous: in the first decades of the 20th century, Backhouse managed to dupe government officials, university libraries, and wealthy businessmen. Called a scoundrel, a charlatan, and a fraud by a few contemporaries, there were far more who found him charming. Today we’d call him a fabulist: someone whose version of his life and experiences are cleverly and colorfully invented. In comparison to some of today’s fabulists—from George Santos and “Clark Rockefeller” to “Anna Delvey”—Backhouse’s enterprises are towering.

Born in England in 1873 to a wealthy and well-respected family, early misbehavior during college estranged him from his father; he was more or less cut off as a young man from family funding. Although he never finished his academic degree, he was a skilled linguist—most especially in Chinese—and he found he was able to finance a comfortable lifestyle by engineering a series of frauds until his death in 1944.

Backhouse first made his mark by publishing several “revelatory” books on the Chinese Imperial court based on apparently entirely fictional diaries. He also nearly got himself hired as an Oxford scholar; convinced the largest British shipbuilder at the time to hire him for seven years to sell battleships to the Chinese; and to dupe the British government to entrust him to negotiate secrete contracts with the Chinese for tens of thousands of guns desperately needed in the WWI conflict.

In these and many other ventures, Backhouse’s modus operandi was to broadly claim close contact and friendship with influential Chinese officials, quickly report on impressive contracts negotiated, outline shipping and delivery plans—and then subsequently backpedal, providing a long list of unexpected difficulties that would ultimately result in the delivery of little to nothing. When things really got tight, he disappeared, claiming ill health or pressing business in other countries. This same pattern occurred over and over, but Backhouse often kept his work under wraps—or at the very least, in silos--which meant that few partners ever realized the extent of his duplicity.

Often, duped partners were left scrambling to cover lost funds, but seemed most often to see Backhouse as hapless or unlucky. In fact, he was a fabulist, inventing his tales almost entirely whole cloth.

The author of this historical “expose”—Hugh Trevor-Roper--was a well-respected historian at Oxford, who wandered far from his usual field. Trevor-Roper found himself utterly perplexed and fascinated by this character, whose story continued to be accepted as fact when he researched Backhouse in the 1970s. He spent two years tracking down every letter and document he could get his hands on to carefully compile Backhouse’s actions and promises.

Although not an easy read, the serial frauds that Trever-Roper details (and there is a LOT of detail), makes it hard to set aside. It also calls to mind our human tendency to want to associate with those who are rich, famous, or popular. Be wary of those who seem to enjoy dropping just a tantalizing hint (or three or four) of a compelling life or opportunity—but decline to share enough to allow one to fact-check that fabulous tale. Secrecy provides the ultimate cover, for both good and bad ends.

[Matthew Shepard · Rating 5 out of 5]

Certainly one of the funniest and intriguing books I ever read. The German edition (in the "Andere Bibliothek") is marvellous - although I am not in general a fan of that series. The story is rather complicated and a mixture between a history of China in the first half of the 20th century and a biography of a very exotic and peculiar man, to say the least. If you like adventurous stories then, however, this is the perfect book for you. Also it will teach you that not everything might be the thing it pretends to be...

[Kerry · Rating 2 out of 5]

Apparently this guy Backhouse was an OG charlatan who just made up a lot of stuff about his direct experience with the Qing Dynasty and then the early days of the Chinese Republic of 20th century. Hoodwinked a lot of people and governments. Cool story and Trevor-Roper did a good job presenting various angles of the stories.

[Judith E · Rating 3 out of 5]

Tedious and repetitive, it was fairly obvious early on what Edmund Backhouse was all about. Then it became tiresome to be slowly strung along by the author’s attempt at suspense. It’s in need of serious organizational and wordiness editing, and the prologue and afterword are useless additions. The incident of the Chinese Boxer Rebellion was the most interesting.

[Ladywinkfield · Rating 4 out of 5]

Hugh Trevor Roper nicely dissects and destroys the ambiguity surrounding the many dubious achievements of Sir Edmund Trelawny Backhouse. But in 1983, Roper, Regius Professor of Modern History at Oxford, authenticated The Hitler Diaries, which were later proved forgeries.