THE TWO LEADERS.
General Nogi is a grim old warrior--a silent, sombre, passionate man.
Every line of his spare figure and dark face, and every hair of his
grizzly beard, stands for strength and energy and resolute will. That
is one side of his character graven on the forts of Port Arthur. There
is another side. When General Nogi grasps your hand and holds it fast,
the stern warrior vanishes, and you are in the presence of a courtly
soldier whose eye beams benevolence. A frank, cordial man, toward whom
you are drawn as to an old friend.
Thus he appeared to General Stoessel when victor and vanquished met
amid the ruins of Suishiyei. “I had not expected to meet so pleasant a
gentleman,” was the comment of the Russian commander. “He seemed more
like a friend of long standing than the leader of a hostile army.”
The meeting took place in the cottage where the capitulation of the
fortress was signed. General Stoessel came early. The officer appointed
to escort him galloped through the fragments of the village in vain
pursuit. Hot and breathless he arrived to find that the General had
dismounted and was already in Plum Tree Cottage. General Nogi followed
in due time. Firmly seated on a prancing bay he looked a born leader.
Ten years had been lifted from his shoulders since the morning of the
New Year.
Of the interview between the two soldiers I shall not repeat the
details. It was characteristic that the first words should be of the
Emperor to whose “illustrious virtues” are ascribed all victories.
General Nogi made known his Sovereign’s command that the officers who
had gallantly defended the citadel should be treated with the greatest
consideration. “It is his Imperial desire that you should retain your
swords.”
General Stoessel was grateful. “By the kindness of your Emperor the
honour of my family is preserved, and that of my comrades.” Alluding to
the death of two sons of General Nogi, the Russian commander observed:
“It is this readiness to sacrifice all on the altar of country that
makes the Japanese so formidable in war.”
Smiling, after the manner of Japanese when speaking of a sorrow of
their own, General Nogi was glad that the lives of his children had not
been given in vain. One was slain at Nansan, the other on 203 Metre
Hill. “Both these positions were of supreme importance, and my sons
died well.”
At the close of the interview General Stoessel asked the Japanese
leader to accept his favourite charger.
The offer was courteously declined on the ground that all spoils of war
were the property of Japan. “I could not think of accepting so valuable
a present for myself.” He promised, however, to receive the horse
on behalf of the Army, and to see that it was treated as became the
charger of a gallant soldier.
The Russian commander seemed astonished at this self-denial, but
appreciated the motive that inspired the refusal of his gift. When they
came out of the hovel General Stoessel mounted his white Arab and,
exhibiting its paces, rode back to Port Arthur. As he passed from the
compound into the street his glance rested for a second on a burial
party. They were exhuming the bodies of comrades who had laid long in
the shadow of the cottage.
A week later--on the 12th--I saw General Stoessel once more. He was
no longer on horseback. His herculean frame was wedged in a drosky
and he was on the way to Dalny. In seven days he had grown older. His
heavy face wore a strained and anxious look, and he had the manner of
a man whose thoughts were not in the present. Such a look I have seen
on the face of one who had gone through a fierce ordeal and was still
doubtful of the issue--the face of a man waiting for the verdict. He
was accompanied by his wife--a big, matronly woman--whose motherly eye
glanced over a procession of orphans each armed with a doll. Madam
Stoessel was in black, and over her head was thrown a black shawl. It
was a pathetic little group, though somehow it reminded me of Mrs.
Cronje, wife of the famous Boer general, who also in like circumstances
showed a fine contempt for feminine adornments. The railway platform at
Choreisei was crowded with smartly-dressed Russian officers and ladies,
several of whom were in mourning. The long line of open trucks filled
rapidly with baggage and soldiers and sailors on their way to prison in
a foreign land. They appeared to have no anxiety save that which arose
from the risk of being left behind. General Stoessel shook hands with
some of his comrades and embraced his aides-de-camp, kissing them on
both cheeks. As soon as he entered the saloon carriage the signal was
given, and, amid profound silence, the defender of Port Arthur vanished
from the scene.
A veil of mist lay over the narrow peninsula on the morning of the 13th
when I crossed the mountain range for the last time, and, descending
into the valley, reached the main road to Port Arthur. Carts laden
with personal baggage and droskies carrying Russian officers and
ladies--healthy and cheerful--passed me on their way to Choreisei.
Soldiers were mustering for review, and hills that for ten days had
been silent as the grave awoke to a new and resounding life. Grim
objects slipped by unheeded--trenches, barbed wire-entanglements,
_chevaux de frise_, _trous de loups_, bomb proofs. They looked like
familiar landmarks, and had ceased to be engines of death. At the gate
leading to the Old Town stood a Japanese sentinel keeping watch over a
park of field artillery. We crossed an open space guarded by immense
earthworks, and came at last to the town of long narrow streets and low
houses. The shutters were closed and the place was deserted save for a
few hospital nurses and children.
As we approached the harbour we began to realise that we were in a city
that had been bombarded and besieged for one hundred and forty-eight
days. Nearly every building bore marks of violence. When shells had
been merciful, fire had not spared. A dusty heap of stones and charred
beams out of which stuck the fragments of a printing press, revealed
the sudden close of newspaper enterprise; and Sikh watchmen, who smiled
a welcome to the English _sahib_, kept ward over smouldering shop
and warehouse. Havoc reigned close to the harbour, which had been
shelled from sea and shore. In the narrow dock lay the Amur--an inert
black mass: and in the broader waters beyond were piled up battleships
and cruisers that had swept the Eastern seas and defied the might and
majesty of Japan. Maimed they were and broken, like warriors sorely
wounded in battle--not dead, but sleeping with their armour laid aside.
Crossing the bridge over a lagoon we peered into a submarine armoury.
The shallow waters were paved with rifles and shells, and we felt that
we had discovered the secret of the failure of ammunition, and the
surrender of only thirty-five thousand small arms.
[Illustration: What we found in Port Arthur.]
[Illustration: What we found in Port Arthur.]
The New Town has none of the characteristics of the old. It is
essentially new and Western. Trim villas and great edifices of brick
and stucco rise from wide open spaces in which you can breathe and
move. Here the damage was not apparent, and you had to look long and
closely to discover traces of bombardment. Yet there were signs and
tokens in the Red Cross flags that floated over every palatial building
to tell of wounds and suffering that remained after glory had departed.
There was no time to investigate. Already the head of the column was
in sight, and General Nogi and his Staff had taken their places to
witness the march of the victorious army. For nearly two hours there
passed before us a procession of sturdy men in long khaki coats, with
bayoneted rifles over their shoulders. A German drill sergeant would
have wrung his hands in despair. Even General Nogi was driven to use
language that sounded expressive to foreign ears. Truth compels me to
state that the Japanese look not well on parade. They are for use, not
for show. Yet the sternest of martinets could not have withheld his
admiration. They were soldiers every inch of them, and have proved it
on many a bloody field. If they stepped high, if their faces flushed,
if a proud and disdainful look came into their eyes as they glanced
toward their great leader--who will find fault with their alignment
and the regulated order of their march? I have seen the soldiers of
many nations, yet none have impressed me more than these men who are
worst of all on parade. And the flags--the regimental flags. There was
a romance of war hidden in the folds of every one of them that swept
proudly past before uncovered heads. Some looked as if they had just
been broken to the breeze; others were mere rags clinging to bare
poles. I would that I could tell you the story of each scar--how many
brave men died in defending them, and how again and again they were
snatched from dead hands to flout defiance in the face of the enemy.
[Illustration: General Nogi enters Port Arthur.]
[Illustration: Breech of Japanese Siege Gun, Port Arthur.]
At the close of this eventful day chance threw me in the way of
some Russian officers, with whom I talked of the defence of Port
Arthur. Upon one subject all were agreed--that General Stoessel was
a man without real strength of character, who never visited the
fortifications, and was always influenced by the presence of his wife
and by the Chief of his Staff--a man whom the late Mr. Parnell would
have described as “very good for afternoon tea parties.” Without
hesitation, they declared that had General Kondrachenko lived the
fortress would not have surrendered for at least one month. “He was
the heart and soul of the defence, and with his death came the end.”
Their faith in the natural strength of Port Arthur seems to have been
destroyed. The first line of forts was, in their opinion, too near to
the town; the forts were not masked; the guns were badly placed, and
made excellent targets: the siege guns were not in turrets as they
should have been; there was no head cover for the gun detachments;
the bomb proof covers close to the parapets were insufficient; there
were no covered lateral lines of communication; there was not enough
observation points; the reverse slopes of the hills were under indirect
fire, and gave no cover for men or guns; the second line of defence
was too close to the first, and was practically useless. These are a
few of the points upon which experts will dispute for years to come.
Russian officers who were in Port Arthur are not likely to be moved
by these controversies. They have learned from bitter experience that
Port Arthur was not impregnable, and believe that time will again
demonstrate the fact.