Contrasts and Comparisons
At Newchwang there were all the elements that tend to characterize
the Russian military rule. It has been stated repeatedly that the
Russians at Newchwang were guilty of barbarities, that they abominably
ill-treated Japanese refugees, insulted the foreign lady residents,
made themselves feared by their outrageous conduct, and required the
constraint a European joint occupation of the port would impose. The
facts do not support the irresponsible reports of those journalists to
whom the conditions of Russian life were new. Foreign ladies were not
habitually insulted by the Russians, nor were the residents, European
or Chinese, ill-treated or outraged. The only cases I saw of wrongdoing
were petty pilferings by Russian soldiers from Chinese pedlars, and
common and unmitigated cruelty to animals.
The Russian officers and the Russian troops from the British standpoint
of to-day were licentious, dissipated and immoral, as well as rough to
occasional brutality. They drank freely, lived as well as their means
permitted, and enjoyed themselves as far as circumstances allowed. When
they left they took with them their women, their drink, their dirt,
their noise--and the goodwill of the bulk of the foreign residents.
Judged by the standard of to-day they lack seriousness, refinement
and education. They eat and drink too much and are coarse and sensual
in their appetites. Compared with our British forefathers, even with
those who fought in the Napoleonic wars, they are not so rude, nor
is their life so bad as when it is contrasted with our armies of the
present generation--and, as soldiers, they lack most ardour for their
profession and the courage that comes from an intelligent conception of
duty.
There came to Newchwang two naval officers whom I knew well. Each was
typical of a class of officer common in the Russian navy, both had
about the same rank in the service. Big Vassy was one of the tallest
and heaviest men in the fleet, a gigantic child; boisterous, frank,
liberal and careless of his reputation. He was an incorrigible shirker.
Many times he was punished for neglect of duty, usually he managed to
escape the penalty. He received ten days’ confinement to barracks and
the first day he prevailed upon his guard to allow him to go into the
town to get a bath, promising to return within three hours, but in a
small place like Port Arthur the tenth day came before they found him.
He would bully and cajole, and get his own way. He was so prolific with
promises, and so entirely the jolly good fellow all round, who loved
wine, woman and song too well, that his superior officers tolerated
him, and looked aside when his shortcomings were before them. He had
command of a ship, but had no more intention of risking his life in
this war than had Admiral Alexeiev or the Tsar himself.
One night I was sitting in the Central Hotel, then the rendezvous of
Russian officers, when big Vassy unexpectedly burst into the room; he
did not stop to open the door, he just put his fist against the panel
and sent the flimsy fastenings far and wide. He thrust his sword and
revolver into my hands.
“Where is she? Where is Tatianne?”
“Tatianne who? Where have you sprung from? What is the matter with you?”
“Where is Tatianne? Tatianne Ivanovna, you know her? Where is she?
Where is she? She came from Port Arthur five days ago, you have seen
her, where is she?”
“Well, she isn’t here. Sit down. What will you have? Boy!”
“Nothing. Tell me, where is she?”
“She was staying with your friends, up at the other end of the
settlement. I don’t know where she is now.”
“But you must. Take me to her! Come! Come quickly!” He dragged me to
the door; resistance was useless.
“I’ll take you there in a minute. How did you get here?”
“Yes, take me. Come! Come quickly, come!”
“All right--all right! How did you get here?”
“By my feets! I walk from Tashichiao, thirty versts. I sent her a
dispatch, a telegram. She has not had it. Come, come quickly! Is it
far?”
“Ten minutes’ walk. How is Port Arthur getting along?”
“To blazes with Port Arthur! Where is she? Where is Tatianne? Are you
sure she is there? She said she would go to China. Where is she? You
know.”
We went out into the darkness, crushed through the thin frozen surface
into the thick mud of the Bund, groped our way through dark alleys into
the settlement, and at last on to the curbed footpath--there he ran on
ahead of me.
“Come!”
“What about Port Arthur?”
“More bombardment--much, much noise, damage nothing. Is it far?”
“How long did the bombardment last?”
“Oh, where is she? Two days--the Novy Gorod is hit many times. Come!”
One could not go quickly enough for that impetuous man, taking giant
strides, and holding to his rapid course by instinct. Little by little
I dragged some information out of him.
“And _your_ ship, Vassy?”
“I have no ship. I go to Vladivostok to take command. If Tatianne will
come I go to-morrow. If she will not, I go to China too!”
“Vassy!” I remonstrated.
He grunted. For a few seconds he strode on ahead rapidly, then he
groaned and turned to me suddenly. “What a fool a woman can make of a
man!” Then he laughed, a short, nervous little laugh, and again walked
on even more quickly than before. A rudimentary truth had been absorbed
by his primitive brain. We reached the door. Tatianne was there. That
was the last I saw of her and of Vassy. Both went straightway to
Vladivostok on the morrow.
Big Vassy had his qualities, but they were not such as fitted him for
any navy. If Russia had a house of peers, Vassy and his like would find
there a fitting apotheosis.
But the Russian navy has also Boris Kouzmin-Korovaiev. Boris is a
true Slav; he is strong as a lion, lithe as a cat, tenacious as a
bull-terrier, and brave as a Jap. Boris would not last long as the
superintendent of a nonconformist Sunday School. He is not a short
sport, in fact he drinks like a fish, or a Pole. For long days together
Boris will be intoxicated, but not incompetent. He has brains and can
use them. All he needs is opportunity. He had an occasion at Port
Arthur, and was mentioned in the Viceroy’s dispatches. You cannot
quarrel with Boris; act squarely and Boris will never quarrel with
you--he is Russian, too. And, of men like Boris the Russian navy has
many, but not enough. It has also brave commanders like Captain Essen
of the _Novik_, Viren of the _Diana_, and Zalyesski of the _Askold_.
In Newchwang we had the men who, on the _Lieutenant Barukhov_, ran the
blockade out of Port Arthur, and returned there without a hurt.
After the Japanese had occupied Newchwang, they searched for a number
of Chinese, who had acted as interpreters for the Russians, and in
other ways assisted them. These interpreters, who had been left behind
by the Russians when they evacuated, hid in Yingkow, and went about in
fear of their lives. Some escaped by train. One day at Kaopantze one
of the men was recognized by some one on the station. The Hunghuses,
under their Japanese leader, promptly seized the man, dragged him off
the train, out of the station, placed him against a wall and shot
him. The next day another interpreter was on the train; he, too, was
found and seized, but the seizure was noticed by one of the inspectors,
who interfered--the man had his ticket, and could travel on unless
the police seized him. The Hunghus leader demurred, and produced a
revolver, which the inspector promptly gripped and at the same time
called in Chinese to the sergeant of the twenty soldiers marshalled on
the platform to bring his men up to assist him. The man gave the order,
but they marched straight away from, instead of towards, the scene
of the struggle, and the non-commissioned officer promptly followed
them himself. But neither the Hunghuses, nor their Japanese leader,
dared attack the Briton: the train was started, and the life of the
interpreter was saved. A few days later a Japanese officer went from
Yingkow to interview the leader of the gang, and after his visit they
made no further trouble.
It must not be supposed that with war between Japan and Russia in
progress the soldiers of the two Powers keep the peace when they are
thrown together, as in the legation guards at Peking. There is a great
deal of animosity, and it is frequently shown by the men; ordinarily
their officers agree as to hours of leave, and the two are kept apart.
The Japanese also show animus against the French and Germans, and
when they can resent the overbearing manner of these European troops
they do so. In July some French soldiers caused some disturbance in
the Japanese town at Shanhaikwan. This gave the Japanese gendarme an
opportunity. In the fight which ensued he was wounded, but three of the
French soldiers were killed, and others were badly injured.
In neutral territory we were, of course, hearing constantly from
eye-witnesses of the course of the war at Port Arthur, and of the
progress made by the Japanese army. With reference to the besieged in
the great fortress the news was always dispiriting; now it was Sidorski
who had been killed by a shell; then little Victor had lost his life at
the Yalu; Mamontoy was wounded--thus were we reminded of the actuality
of war. And the Japanese would tell of the progress being made with
their mines; of the slowness with which they were driving parallels up
to the Russian positions; of their wish that all women, children and
civilians would leave the town, and of their intention to treat all
found there as combatants when the great assault took place.
There can be no doubt that this will be so. For months past every
civilian in the fortress has been compelled to take his turn in the
trenches; every man able to bear arms has borne them, with the possible
exception of the Red Cross surgeons.
The Japanese were not nearly so communicative as the Russians, and
could not be surprised into making admissions. I said to a Russian
naval officer once:
“Captain, why are you putting out mines on the high seas?”
“We are not putting out mines on the high seas; we put them only
twenty-five miles from the coast, except perhaps at Kerr Bay they
extend farther. Who says we put them on the high seas?”
But the Japanese will talk, if you will do something for them. There
was one, a man of modern ideas, who did not see the usefulness, from
the military point of view, of the soldier sacrificing his life rather
than turning back, and even seeking death in battle as the greatest
good. He wished me to write an article in a local paper, which he
would have translated and quoted in all Japanese papers, showing that
sometimes it was wiser to surrender, and thereby incommode the enemy,
than to die. The article appeared; it had the usual references to
Dai Nippon, and all about Yamato Domashi in its most idealistic and
refined aspects. It satisfied him in every particular but one. I wrote
that it might be wiser to surrender or flee than to die; that could
not be so; it was so glorious to die for one’s country! The very man
who appreciated the logic of the argument was unable to overcome the
sentiment which animates the Japanese soldier.
The Japanese informed me in August, after the battle of Tashichiao,
that in no circumstances would they press on beyond Liaoyang this
campaign unless the Russians fell back to Harbin--even then their
forces were to remain south of Mukden until next spring, when the great
campaign will begin--and finish.
The Japanese have adopted not only many Western methods but Western
ideals. They have not the Chinaman’s power to influence men of the
Caucasian race. The Japanese, notwithstanding their Western ways, are
not of us, and never will be. They are fighting for a cause we know
and feel to be right; they will talk by the hour of sources of food
supply they have had taken from them, of the market closed to them, and
prove that they are fighting for existence--before the injuries Russia
has caused them weaken them so much that they could not fight with any
chance of success. They are fighting in the Western manner generally,
that Western people may judge them by Western standards. But there are
occasions when the difference is shown, when Japanese disregard of
death hurls them as it were impulsively to attack where attack means
certain death, absolute annihilation. With their weapons ready in
their hands they follow unhesitatingly the little Sun-flags--follow
in silence, so impassively they seem scarcely to be human beings but
creatures obeying some primitive instinct--they go to their death
by fire, unreasoning, unthinking, as migrating lemmings go without
swerving into the ocean which drowns all.
Ordinarily they are rational to a fault. They have reasoned out
everything, have made ready for every eventuality. A crushing defeat
at any one point would cause them to change the plan of campaign, not
to abandon the war, and their organization is such that a complete
change of front could be accomplished without the least disorder,
alarm, or loss. They have still as many soldiers waiting to come to
Manchuria as they have already brought there; money they will raise
at need. They issued notes not having currency of the country, the
notes are convertible into cash at the Japanese banks. The war will be
paid for largely by the goods now being manufactured by Japanese, all
working overtime, and these goods will be sold in the markets of four
continents. For Japan alone benefited by the great commercial congress
at Philadelphia; its Government took up the idea of the Commercial
Museum and having a perfect organization worked it profitably, thus
gaining a share of the world’s commerce. There is no flaw anywhere.
The Japanese troops may not pursue fleeing Russians so quickly that
the enemy are kept on the run. That might mean a risk, moreover, after
days of continuous fighting to win a position, is it not enough for
the moment to have it, then prepare for winning the next? When all is
ready, the attack will be made, and the position won. There is nothing
left to chance. Major-General Fukushima, the strategist of the campaign
and director of General Oku’s movements, is a stolid, plodding,
indefatigable student of Moltke’s _Art of War_, and military text
books. He will not depart from the rule, he will win the prize working
according to the rules of the game. In appearance and bearing he
suggests a fourth form boy who is the school prodigy and is conscious
of his position.
The Japanese Army has its inconsistencies; for instance, officers will
cover even their sword-scabbards with khaki lest the sun glint should
betray them, but all the scouts I saw wore breeches of cardinal red
with a broad stripe of yellow or green in which they were as glaringly
conspicuous as if they had been in the uniform of our own 11th Hussars.
The Japanese have a just cause; they fight bravely: their organization
is nearly perfect; their reforms are thorough and excellent--one cannot
but admire them; they deserve to win, and they will win, and the world
will be the better for their victory. It is because of this we wish
them to win. In spite of their race and their paganism, and though
their civilization may be but a thin veneer, we require them to win
because they are fighting in the cause of freedom, fighting for the
rights of man irrespective of creed or colour, fighting for western
ideals of justice, fighting for the good of humanity.
We are more in sympathy with the Russians because they are nearer
kin. They have their faults, but in spite of their faults, or perhaps
because of their weaknesses, we love them, man for man, even more than
we admire their opponents. The Japanese are bravest of the brave; an
officer will rush in and kill sixteen of the enemy with his sword. All
fight like classic heroes, but they still sit down on their shins,
and we wonder what sort of men they are after all. The Russians we
understand. We admire General Stoessel not a whit the less when we
know, that with all his bravery and bluster, he is married to a homely
sharp-tongued little _hausfraü_ whom he must obey implicitly--were she
a veritable shrew the man would still have our esteem. “Go home--Port
Arthur is no place for women!” commands the General. “A wife’s place is
by her husband--Tollya, I shall stay!” says the commandant’s wife.
Then there is H.E. the Viceroy, Admiral Alexeiev, raised to a dizzy
height of power and living up to his position. For him no more
hilarious nights, wild gambles, boisterous exploits; no more storming
and raving on the quarter decks of ships where work has been left
undone, but a monotonous round of high society functions and wearisome
entertainments, broken by an occasional holiday in an obscure treaty
port of China. Admiral Alexeiev made the common mistake of supposing
dignity to be a virtue, whereas it is only a grace. The Japanese
official promoted to higher rank knows that the post will need a
greater expenditure of energy, and he does what is required and
expected of him. The Russian may be an inveterate liar, a drunkard
leading a dissolute life, may know that he is the slave of besetting
sins, but never forgets that he is a man. He will not pay to virtue
the tribute of hypocrisy she extorts from vice. He is an open and
only a superficial sinner, appraising himself higher than do those
who observe him, surrounding himself with temptations and indulging
unashamed. The Japanese will run no risks, that drink shop may cause
harm--it is straightway closed. Those people may tempt heroes from the
business of war to the pleasures of peace--they are sent beyond the
military lines. The Japanese are pagans who have adopted the ethical
code of the West; there is nothing in their conduct to which the most
strait-laced puritan could take exception; missionaries bow to them,
for even missionaries do not need to shut their eyes to the behaviour
of these conquerors. They are as correct as the rule of three, and have
its limitations.
Some Russian officials, with tears in their eyes, asked me why it was
the British hated them so intensely. There, in Newchwang, they had done
everything they could think of to appease the English residents. They
gave them business, the Government spent money freely, they themselves
entertained lavishly; they offered always the hand of friendship, but
it was not clasped. And Newchwang was but typical of other ports,
everywhere it was the same, what more could Russians do?
The difference is just this: in the game of life Russia disregards all
the rules Western civilization has decreed to be right. In politics,
in commerce, in law, in the big things and the little things of life
Russia is a law to herself. The Japanese, on the contrary, have
accepted the Western standard of ethics, and in their international
relations attempt to conform to Western conventions.
An English lady, who spoke Russian, had occasion to visit the station,
and on her way asked for a lift in one of the army waggons going from
Newchwang to Russia-town. The favour was immediately granted. When
she was seated the driver gazed at her earnestly, and asked what she
might be. She answered that she was English. “Ah, I knew you were not
of us, you are so clean.” She smiled. The soldier continued, with a
jerk backward of his head towards the settlement, “It is funny what
a lot of clean people one sees there--never saw so many in my life!”
Then, somewhat regretfully. “We have not the means to be clean, lady!”
The Russians, unfortunately for them, have not the means to be many
other things we count good. The soldiers, before the campaign was
three months old, were in tatters. I remember one; he wore purple
(half tanned) high boots, regulation breeches, a shirt or tunic made
out of an old gunny sack, a straw sailor hat without a ribbon, and the
broken brim drooping to his ear; he had a bayonet without a scabbard
and a rifle with a thong of rawhide for a sling. I saw him fall to
attention and present arms as the Grand Duke Boris went along the Bund
at Newchwang. An unkempt, dirty, uncared for unit in the army; a thing
too common to call for comment or to receive consideration.