RUSSIA IN THE FAR EAST
No one will be surprised to learn that after these interesting
exchanges of view on a burning topic, which were thus occasioned by
an unavowable motive, the rulers of the Tsardom wended their way
blithely in the same direction as before, bestowing their immediate
attention on the Far East under the safe guidance of Witte.
The Manchurian branch of the railway was begun in the year 1899. The
Minister of Communications, Prince Khilkoff, was on the point of
travelling from Petersburg to Paris via Siberia and China, and had
asked the Tsar's permission for me to accompany him and describe my
impressions. The imperial authorisation was hardly given, however,
when the Boxer insurrection broke out, sections of the railway were
destroyed by the rebels, and our plans were upset. I then received
permission to travel over all Central Asia, at first in a carriage to
myself, which I was allowed to have coupled to any trains I wished,
and afterwards in a special train for myself, which served me as
bedroom, saloon, and kitchen. In this way I visited most places of
note in Central Asia, including Askhabad, Merv, Bokhara, and
Samarkand. After the Boxer rebellion Russian troops occupied
Manchuria. But yielding to China's solicitations, seconded by Witte,
the Tsar consented to a treaty[1] recognising Manchuria as an
integral part of China and promising to withdraw his troops gradually
from that province, beginning at Mukden, which was to be evacuated
within six months, and completing the operation before the expiry of
eighteen months from the date on which the convention was signed.
Why that promise was not kept, and what came of its breach, are
matters of common knowledge. But it was not General Kuropatkin who
contributed to hinder the evacuation of Manchuria or the settlement
of the dispute with {280} Japan. On this subject his views were
orthodox, for in the meanwhile the scales had fallen from his eyes
and he saw the error of his former ways. He, and the Foreign
Secretary--Count Lamsdorff--and Witte did what they could to have the
Russian troops recalled and the dispute with Japan satisfactorily
settled, but they failed. For they had _ipso facto_ ceased to
represent Russia and were no longer able even to influence her policy.
With the utmost difficulty Witte and his fellow-workers, of whom by
this time Kuropatkin was one, contrived by January, 1903, to get some
Russian troops recalled from the western part of Manchuria, but
thereupon the evacuation of that province ceased. Moreover, Fenhwan
and other points were seized. The Japanese were alarmed, for by this
time it had leaked out that the source from which this policy of
aggression emanated was an obscure group of irresponsible friends of
the Tsar, including Bezobrazoff, Abaza, and later on Admiral
Alexeyeff. These men had obtained a lumber concession on the Yalu in
which certain of the grand dukes and at last, it is alleged, the Tsar
himself took shares, and this was to be used for the twofold purpose
of private enrichment and territorial aggrandisement. Hence Japan's
claims were to be denied brazenly and unflinchingly, for it was taken
for granted that, come what might, she would not attempt to enforce
them by an appeal to arms. That axiom lay at the very root of the
Tsar's policy.
For many years Nippon had been eager for an all-round understanding
with Muscovy. But her efforts, which were sincere and strenuous,
proved fruitless. It is a well-known fact, publicly admitted by
fair-minded Russian politicians, that the government of Tokio had
left nothing undone to merit the friendship of Muscovy. The advisers
of the Emperor of Japan desired an agreement; the press warmly
advocated it; the people would have enthusiastically welcomed it.
But Russia, carrying out a policy of aggrandisement, which was forced
upon her by the internal condition of things, repelled Japan's
advances. Thus she insisted on reserving the markets of the Far East
for her industry, {281} which could not yet be said to exist. Again,
she spent large sums, which might have helped her own needy peasants
of the centre, in order to found a needless school for young Japanese
at Khakodate; she despatched naval officers to instruct and train the
Mikado's subjects in naval matters, and incurred other expenses in
order to prepare the way for acquiring markets. And yet while the
treaty ports of Japan were filled with the trading vessels of the
principal maritime powers, Russia's commercial flag was absent.
At this conjuncture the Tsar's blinding antipathy to Witte became
intense, owing to his determination personally to conduct Russia's
Far Eastern business free from the irksome expostulations of that
importunate statesman. And in this resolve he was encouraged by the
three greedy parasites who formed a secret government of their own on
which he conferred power without responsibility. Witte endeavoured
to have these anonymous instruments of the Emperor dragged from their
obscurity and obliged to accept responsible posts which corresponded
to the nature and degree of their activity. But the Tsar refused to
give him satisfaction, and the course of the Russo-Japanese
negotiations and of the international crisis in which it issued
became entirely independent of the words and acts of the legally
constituted government of the Tsar.
That was not the only historic occasion on which Nicholas II.
intrigued deliberately against his own official government. And yet
he would not allow the responsible ministers, whom he thus degraded
to the level of lay-figures, to retire with dignity into private
life. Witte often answered my question why he did not tender his
resignation by urging that the theory of autocratic government
excluded any such wilful act on the part of a public servant of the
State so long as he possessed the confidence of the Tsar. Whether
his impressibility to this motive was as strong as he intimated may
well be doubted. When he was ousted from the post of Finance
Minister on account of his opposition to the policy that entailed the
Japanese war, his friend, Count Lamsdorff, relied on the same plea
and remained. His colleague and {282} friend, Prince Obolensky,
urged him to tender his resignation and accompany Witte into private
life. "If you stay on," he argued, "you will gain little or nothing,
for you too have steadily discountenanced the Emperor's policy and he
will rid himself of you after the war that is coming." But Lamsdorff
answered, "Don't worry about me. The course I am taking will, one
day, be justified by the documents I possess. You will then see that
I am right in staying on." "Where are they?" asked Obolensky. "They
are all stored away in my house in apple-pie order. But they will
not be published during my lifetime."
After the war Lamsdorff was brusquely thrust aside by the Tsar and
Izvolsky promoted from the Legation at Copenhagen to take his place.
This ungenerous treatment practically killed the Foreign Secretary,
who soon afterwards left for San Remo and survived the blow for only
a brief spell. And the justificative documents, where are they?
Nicholas II. had a paralysing fear of tell-tale State papers, and
having learned that his late Secretary for Foreign Affairs possessed
archives full of them, despatched Prince Dolgoruky and M. Savinsky to
take possession of them, examine them, and send in a report on their
nature.... And they have never since been heard of.
But to return to the Manchu-Korean difficulties. Japan, now
seriously alarmed at the signs and portents noticeable in Russia, was
leaving no stone unturned to discover whither her policy tended and
how to ward off the conflict that was heaving in sight. And the
perplexity of the statesmen of Tokio was all the greater that they at
first took it for granted that reasons of State and solid motives of
national utility would alone account for the strange oscillations of
the imperial government. In vain Witte besought the Tsar to stay his
hand, let the Yalu lumber concessions go, and arrange a _modus
vivendi_ with Japan. In vain Kuropatkin, committing his views to
paper, stated that the provisional occupation of Manchuria would
become definitive, Japan's misgivings would be confirmed, the
armaments of both empires would be increased, and the only possible
outcome would be realised, {283} and all for the sake of a few
"districts in Korea which have no serious importance for Russia."[2]
In one of his memorials Kuropatkin wrote frankly: "The success or
failure of a few enterprises in Manchuria and Korea, timber, coal,
and other concerns, is much too unimportant for Russia to risk a war
for the sake of them," and he went the length of putting the question
whether it would not be the height of wisdom to return Kwantung, Port
Arthur, and Dalny to China, in order to keep clear of war. The
general's conversion was thorough.
But the political freebooters had an easy task to defeat the Tsar's
ministers and to have treaties and promises rated on a level with
waste paper, for they now had the support of the minister Plehve, the
rising star of the Tsardom. Abaza in one of his telegrams[3] tells
Bezobrazoff of a talk he had with the Tsar, and concludes: "In the
course of the conversation the Emperor emphatically expressed his
most absolute confidence in you." That was the pith of the matter.
The crisis was of the monarch's own making, and the pair of
intriguers, to whom Alexeyeff was afterwards added, in their quest of
pelf plunged the country into a war which cost hundreds of thousands
of human lives and led to the collapse of the Tsardom before
provision could be made for the organism that was to succeed it.
In one respect, however, my opinion runs counter to that of some
Russian publicists who hotly maintained that Nicholas II., in company
with the three money grabbers who carried out his behests,
"unflinchingly and consciously led Russia into the war" while
hypocritically asserting his resolve to make his reign an era of
peace.[4] I am convinced that the Tsar deemed himself to be what his
foreign friends had proclaimed him, "the mainstay of the world's
peace," and that so long as he was averse to war no other power would
dare to risk it. Few men of his temperament who had been continually
assured, as he had, {284} that he was the Vicar of God and the
recipient of special divine grace would have thought or felt much
differently. His tearful emotion when the conflict broke out and
confronted him with disaster bears out this theory. At the same
time, I know for a fact that the Russian minister at Tokio[5] was
sending despatches of an alarming tenor, foreboding war and
announcing that the only way of hindering it would be a complete
change of policy. These prophecies at length became unbearable to
the Emperor who one day penned his condemnation of them on one of the
envoy's reports, and Baron Rosen was thereafter constrained to be
chary of evil prognostications.
The Tsar's optimism permeated his private conversations, his public
utterances, and the secret instructions which he had sent to his
agents. His views, for instance, as to the most suitable tactics to
be observed when dealing with the Japanese were telegraphed by his
favourite, Abaza, to the Viceroy Alexeyeff. They have a
sub-Machiavellian savour that harmonises entirely with the peculiar
sort of worldly wisdom which characterised him throughout his reign.
This is the first maxim, "Russia stands to gain enormously by every
year of peace. Therefore, every effort must be directed to warding
off war, not, however, by concessions which would surely precipitate
hostilities." The second runs, "This end may most surely be attained
by a firm policy, polite in form and not vexatious in secondary
matters."
A few years before that I had learned that Baron Rosen's
predecessor[6] at Tokio had written to his chief[7] proposing that
Russia should give Korea to the Japanese, who would in return allow
her a free hand in Manchuria. And the Russian representative argued
impressively in favour of this transaction which would bestow an
ample field on the colonising faculties of both. The answer of the
Foreign Office was characteristic--characteristic of the man at its
{285} head, of the Tsar whom he served, and of the Asiatic[8] State
which absorbed their activities. "Korea," he said, "must become to
Russia what Bokhara actually is." The minister, Muravieff, can
hardly have realised that geographically Bokhara is in Russia and is
bounded on one side by little Afghanistan, whereas Korea was outside
the Tsar's dominions and within easy reach of the growing arm of
Japan.
An amazing incident connected with the Emperor's tactics, as it was
the proximate cause of the war and diffuses adequate light on this
chapter of Russian history, may fitly find a place here. I wrote it
down to Witte's dictation. "Since I had been ousted out of the
Finance Ministry I continued to impress upon the remaining ministers
the views that had led to my dismissal. I exerted myself thus for
the sake of the country. And my exertions were successful. One
day[9] the Tsar convoked a special council consisting of the
Ministers of War, the Marine, and Foreign Affairs, under the
chairmanship of the Grand Duke Alexis. The object of the meeting was
praiseworthy: how to steer clear of a conflict with Japan. The means
proposed was an accord. Russia had already suggested an arrangement
which the Japanese declined because it would have established a
neutral zone bounded by the thirtieth parallel. And now the question
was whether or no Japan's wishes should be respected and the
obnoxious clause expunged. As peace and war hung upon the issue, the
council resolved prudently and almost unanimously to strike out the
paragraph and draft a modified convention. There was only one
dissentient voice--that of Abaza. This schemer, solicitous only
about his commercial concern, suggested that the clause be retained,
but the boundary altered from the thirtieth parallel to the Yalu
Tsian watershed. As it was highly improbable that the Tokio Foreign
Office would acquiesce in this, and as, if it {286} did not, the
danger of war would be imminent, the council negatived Abaza's motion.
"But that intriguer was not to be baffled thus easily. He secretly
saw the Tsar and adroitly led him to believe, without actually
asserting, that the grand duke and the other members of the council
were of his way of thinking about the contentious provision. That
done he requested and obtained permission to telegraph his draft
proposal to the viceroy for his guidance. And in his telegram he
characterised that proposal as the decision come to by the Emperor
himself. That was a scandalous--an unpatriotic--act; for the Viceroy
Alexeyeff was sure to behave towards the Japs in accordance with this
alleged ordinance of the Emperor. And lest this consequence should
make itself felt too late, Abaza sought out the Japanese Minister,
Baron Kurino, and had the hardihood to apprise him of the decision!
This naval officer, Abaza, behind the back of the Foreign Secretary,
called on Japan's representative and gave him a message which--excuse
me for the expression--was the diplomatic equivalent to a vicious
kick ... the direct consequence of which must, under the
circumstances, be war."
"Permit me to ask you a question," I interrupted. "How could Abaza
insinuate to the Emperor that his proposal was approved by the
council? Were there no minutes of the proceedings, and how and why
were they kept from the Tsar?" "There were minutes of the sitting,
but they had to be written with great care and verified, and as the
work went on very slowly it was not until three whole days had
elapsed that they were ready and actually laid before the Emperor.
And then the mischief was done. For before that Baron Kurino, who
knew full well that the policy of Russia was being shaped without the
effective participation of the Foreign Minister, and who was now
informed by the spokesman and chief of the secret gang presided over
by the Emperor, that Japan's reasonable suggestions had been spurned,
drew the practical consequences from that alleged decision. So, too,
did his government. Thus it was this untruth, minted by Abaza and
passed off on the Mikado's {287} government, that caused the war.
Before the Tsar had read the minutes of the council and charged his
regular minister with drafting a note in accordance with their
conciliatory resolution, Japan had recalled her envoy, broken off
diplomatic relations with Russia, and attacked and damaged the Tsar's
fleet.
"As you see, Bismarck's 'doctoring' of the Ems telegram is having
vogue as a precedent. It will probably be followed again. When
hostilities opened our press accused the Japanese of having begun the
war without waiting for the official answer to their demand which was
in preparation and would, if received, have acted as a sedative. The
allegation is formally true, but you can see for yourself what it
amounts to when analysed."
Another instance of how Nicholas II. interpreted his rôle and behaved
to his Minister of Foreign Affairs, Lamsdorff, is worth recording.
He had a secret telegram sent to the Viceroy Alexeyeff of which
Lamsdorff never knew anything until long after the war had begun. It
was an important message agreeing that the Japanese should enter into
full possession of Korea as far as the boundaries of the Russian
concessions on the Tuman-Ula on the north and of the Yalu on the
west, and ordering this decision to be communicated to the Russian
ministers in Tokio, Seoul, and Pekin. It never was communicated to
any of them. Had it gone through the Foreign Secretary's hands it
would have been brought to the cognisance of the three interested
governments and might have made a good impression. What Alexeyeff
did with it is unknown, but it is certain that he did not present it.
Witte was so incensed against the gang that was answerable for the
war that he could with difficulty curb his tongue when talking about
them. "To think," he said, "that all the work I have done for the
past twelve years is now being undone by a few contemptible
pettifoggers who would be nothing without the reflection of the
crown! It is maddening. And when I think of what will happen when
the war is over and the troops come home--well, I cannot tell you how
profound and poignant the impression is--I feel sorry for {288} the
Emperor then. We shall be spectators of a tremendous world-tragedy."
The Japanese were accused of hitting below the belt when they fell
foul of the Russian squadron unexpectedly, and the charge is still
believed by many. I feel bound to state that having followed the ups
and downs of the crisis as closely as my sources of information would
permit, I formed the conviction that from beginning to end in war, as
in peace, the Mikado's government displayed chivalrous loyalty and
moderation. The notion that the Russians would have behaved
differently from their enemies in dealing the first blow so
unexpectedly is, I fear, erroneous. There is extant a telegram from
the Tsar to his viceroy containing this significant injunction: "If
on the west of Korea the (Japanese) fleet should sail northwards past
the 38th parallel, it is open to you to attack them without waiting
for the first shot from their side. I rely on you. May God aid
you."[10]
It is needless to recount here the well-known vicissitudes of the
Manchurian campaign. The landmarks of the story are familiar. Among
its most disquieting features to my thinking was the scope it offered
to Russian and Finnish revolutionists to spread their subversive
doctrines and perfect their plans of violence. It also united all
classes and nationalities in the country, not only against the policy
of the State, but also against the regime. With the exception of a
few members of the Bezobrazoff-Abaza band nobody wanted the war, and
few could account intelligently for the government's having stumbled
into it. One of the least edifying sights that passed before my eyes
was the joy manifested by senators, professors, students, and other
"intellectuals" whenever tidings were received of a Russian defeat.
Many of them used to rub their hands with glee. Their own
countrymen, their friends, and perhaps their relatives were exposed
to death on the remote millet fields of Manchuria, but they had
consolations: the circumstances that the army which owed allegiance
to the Tsar was being decimated by the enemy, that the test which
every regime has to undergo when waging war was racking and
humiliating the government, {289} and that it was at last made patent
to all that the position occupied by the Tsardom among the powers was
usurped and out of all proportion to its internal resources and
military strength--were balm to the wounds of the sorely tried
subjects of Nicholas II. In this queer behaviour nobody discerned
moral incoherence or a culpable lack of patriotism. Even the
"moralists" acknowledged that a military defeat would have its
political compensations. And yet the degree to which the moral tone
of the country was lowered by these exhibitions was considerably less
than the foreigner may imagine who was not acquainted with its
condition before the war.
The campaign brought no respite to those public men whose plans in
peace time had been countered or warped by the direct and mischievous
meddling of Nicholas II. He would have his finger in every pie,
military and civil. The mere belief that the Emperor took a personal
interest in some particular scheme was enough to render all other
projects abortive, and when he stepped forward with a definite
proposal of which only specialists could appreciate the value, he was
sure to find most of these arrayed in its favour. To this rule the
plan of campaign against the Japanese was no exception. General
Kuropatkin's place in military history is fixed by this time, and,
whether high or low, will not be greatly changed by anything new that
may be disclosed in these pages. It may not be amiss, therefore, to
set down a most interesting and characteristic account which Witte
gave me of a conversation he had with that general soon after the
Emperor had appointed him to be the commander-in-chief of the land
forces.[11]
"Kuropatkin came to take leave of me a few days before setting out
for the Far East. He seemed painfully conscious of the arduous
nature of the task he was set to achieve. His former buoyancy and
self-reliance had given way to an overpowering sense of
responsibility. From an optimist he had {290} become a pessimist.
He overrated, as it seemed to me then, the military and other
qualities of the Japanese, and as I listened to his praise of them I
recalled to mind the days when he had been the soul of that policy
which brought us to this pass. After the usual small talk Kuropatkin
looked at me earnestly and said, 'Serghei Yulievitch, do me a favour.
Give me your advice, frankly and fully as a friend. Heaven only
knows what awaits me. Your vision and knowledge give weight to your
counsel. Let me hear it.' 'If I were a soldier I would with
pleasure lay before you my idea of what your plan of campaign should
be, but what can I, an ex-minister, urge upon you, our most eminent
general, on a subject that lies so far from my ken?' 'Well, then,
let me put a plain question to you. If you were in my place, is
there anything that you would do, any line of action--I don't mean
strategical but general--that you would strike out?' I thought for a
moment and then I said, 'Yes, there is. And as you have asked me for
advice, here it is. As soon as you get out to the Far East, make
straight for the Viceroy Alexeyeff. Get him into your power. Order
your men to arrest him. Treat him otherwise with all the distinction
due to his position, but send him back to Petersburg. That done you
can...' But Kuropatkin would not let me finish. 'Dear Serghei
Yulievitch.' he said, 'I asked you to give me a piece of serious
advice if you would, but you are now joking on a subject that is
serious to the point of tragedy.' 'Exactly,' I retorted, 'it is
tragical, and that's why I am giving you advice which, whether you
take it or not, will one day appear to you most serious and capable
of helping you. Listen. If I were in your place I would arrest
Alexeyeff and send him home. Then I would frame an explanation that
could not be thrust aside, and telegraph it to the palace. I mean
what I say. I would act in this way for the sake of the country, in
the interests of the Emperor himself and of my own reputation. For
Alexeyeff is only a courtier who will think nothing of marring your
plans in order to further those of the Tsar or his own.' Kuropatkin
only shrugged his shoulders and spoke of other things. Soon
afterwards he left.
{291}
"In that answer of mine I had pointed to the key of the situation.
Kuropatkin's plan was to let Port Arthur defend itself as best it
could, to concentrate a formidable army at Kharbin, and to wait for
the enemy there. Those were the tactics of Kutuzoff in the
Napoleonic war. The Japanese would then have to advance into the
interior, far from their base, or dispense with a decision and ruin
themselves financially, economically, and in the end politically as
well. But when he reached the Far East, Alexeyeff, who was his
superior, first advised and then constrained him to alter his sound
plan in order to carry out the Tsar's heart-felt desire to save Port
Arthur. At first Kuropatkin argued, but finally he gave way, and
failed in consequence either to succour Port Arthur or to realise his
plan of campaign."
Witte bore these things in mind at a later date when the Emperor's
orders to him--then Russia's plenipotentiary at Portsmouth--if
carried out would have hindered the conclusion of peace with Japan.
Therefore he discreetly ignored them.
The Japanese, who during this campaign and the crisis that preceded
it gave unmistakable proofs of striking qualities which bid fair to
make them one of the main factors in the future ordering of the
world, bent their efforts to revolutionising the Russian working men,
the intelligentsia, and above all else the army. The design was
ingenious, but the technical work of executing it was uncommonly
difficult owing to the ease with which a Japanese organiser of
strikes, demonstrations, or riots could be spotted among white men
and executed. As a matter of fact, a Japanese would not have been
tolerated in any Russian city or town during the campaign. But
through the medium of a number of Finns and Russians, the problem was
tackled satisfactorily and large sums of money spent on revolutionary
propaganda, which assumed amazing shapes, and in the purchase of
arms, of which great quantities were smuggled into the country.
In the proneness of the population to revolt lay the Achilles' tendon
of the Tsardom, as the Japanese and the {292} Germans were aware, and
despite the little that one heard of the results of Japanese
enterprise in this direction, the smouldering hate entertained by the
nationalities and the intelligentsia against the Tsarist State was
kept steadily aglow, and from time to time fanned into flames. The
Russian prisoners were well supplied with literature of a kind which
their native censors would not have tolerated, so too were the
soldiers at the front, and by the time they returned home many of
them held views wholly incompatible with the kind of allegiance
expected of them by the bureaucracy and the Church.[12]
The strikes, the demonstrations, the subterranean agitation, the
spread of revolutionary leaflets, and the brisk, illegal traffic
between Finland and Russia, were in varying degrees evidences of
Japanese propaganda. In Finland, too, it was eminently successful.
The enthusiastic patriotism of Poland would also have been fanned
into a consuming flame had it not been for the clear vision, ready
resource, and enterprise of Poland's most practical statesman, who,
in the best interests of his countrymen, promptly adopted efficacious
measures to arrest the movement. Thus despite the difficulties with
which the Japanese had to cope, they contributed perceptibly to the
causes that disorganised the Russian army, cut some of the withes
that bound the non-Russian nationalities together, and rendered the
conclusion of peace a necessity for the dynasty and perhaps for the
{293} State. This necessity was clearly perceived and insistently
relied upon by Witte in his representations to the Emperor, while the
more cautious and tactful Finance Minister, Kokofftseff, in his
confidential reply to the question whether the war should be
persisted in or peace negotiations begun,[13] alleged the condition
of things at the front, "and more particularly in the interior of the
country," as grounds for putting an immediate end to the conflict.
The War Office and the Foreign Office in Tokio took up this work of
propaganda, but disagreed on some important matters of detail. And,
curiously enough, on the questions which divided these departments
the War Office was right.[14]
From time to time Russian voices were uplifted against the
continuation of the war. Petitions were sent to the government
asking that peace be concluded. The zemstvos, which, working
assiduously for the well-being of the troops, were thus rendering
noteworthy services to the country, felt and said that similar
services might be expected of them in peace time if they were
permitted to co-operate. But the authorities refused to follow them
into this perilous region. At last the minister Plehve had to forbid
under severe penalties the discussion of peace at any assemblies, but
the Tsar as an offset was forced to promise a consultative chamber
and certain other concessions. In spite of pains and penalties,
however, peace was ardently desired and frequently discussed.
Sedition was rampant in the country. Japan's propaganda through
Finnish agents made rapid headway. Now and again a man of courage
would point out the danger to a minister or a grand duke. It is fair
to Witte's memory to affirm that few men were endowed with as much
moral courage as he. He feared nobody, and thought nothing of the
consequences to himself. Here is a letter which he read {294} to me
before sending it to the Tsar. It will strike many by its extreme
simplicity and bluntness as well as by certain other qualities.
"28th February, 1905.
"YOUR IMPERIAL MAJESTY,--From the present condition of affairs the
only rational way out is to open negotiations on the subject of peace
terms and to calm Russia, at least to some slight extent, by working
out with the utmost promptitude to the broadest possible issue the
mission given by imperial rescript to A. T. Bulyghin.[15] To go on
with the war is more than dangerous: further sacrifices the country
in its present temper will not brook without appalling catastrophes.
In order to continue the campaign enormous sums of money are needed,
and also the enlistment of a large number of men. But further
expenditure will entirely upset the financial and economic conditions
of the Empire, and these conditions constitute, so to say, the
central life-nerve of latter-day States. The poverty of the
population will be intensified, and together with it the embitterment
and befogging of their souls will be aggravated.... A new
mobilisation on a large scale can be effected only by the application
of force. In this way the warriors for the Far East will inaugurate
their warlike career on the very place of their recruitment. If in
addition the harvest should fall below the average and cholera
reappear, agrarian troubles may develop in the country. Generally
speaking, under the conditions now prevailing, the troops are needed
in Russia itself.
"True, it is terribly painful to open peace negotiations, and it will
be necessary to hedge them round with conditions capable of
safeguarding the prestige of imperial power. But it is better to do
that now than to wait until the future becomes more menacing.
Kuropatkin will not be able to hold his ground at Telin. With the
loss of Kharbin the Ussuri territory will be cut off.
Roshdjestvensky cannot {295} score success. At the same time Russia
has still sufficient prestige left to warrant the hope that the peace
conditions will not be very irksome. But if we refuse to humble our
spirits congruously with our religious faith now after all that we
have undergone, and to repent before the Most High, we shall put
ourselves into a much more hopeless plight. Even though the peace
terms were utterly inacceptable, it would still behove us to enter
into negotiations. If they still remained inacceptable in spite of
the friendly co-operation of certain great powers, it is
unquestionable that in this case the entire nation would arise in
defence of the Tsar and its own honour. Then we shall have purified
ourselves.
"All-gracious Sovereign! In all things decision is requisite. But
if decision is indispensable in happiness, it is doubly necessary in
disaster. In disaster, resolution is the first step towards safety.
There should be no delay. Peace pourparlers should at once be begun,
and also at once your charge to A. T. Bulyghin ought to be carried
out, and in a very generous spirit. Your imperial Majesty! I am of
sound mind and keenly conscious. This submission is not the letter
of a distraught man, but of one who discerns the situation. It is
not illness that moves my hand, but resolve, resolve to tell you what
others are perhaps afraid to tell you. May God aid you.
"Your imperial Majesty's loyal servant,
"(signed) SERGIUS WITTE."
That letter, which exemplifies some of Witte's defects and qualities,
had not the slightest effect on the Tsar, who had been well aware of
his eminent subject's opinions and sentiment on the subject from the
outset of the war. At the end of July of the same year Witte wrote a
sharp private letter[16] to Count A. Heyden, from which I extract the
{296} following passage: "I held the opinion that we ought to have
accepted the terms which Japan offered us (Kurino himself, I may say,
made them to me personally) at the end of July, 1903. These terms
were entirely befitting. Had that been done there would have been no
war. Next I was of the opinion that we should have made peace before
the fall of Port Arthur. Then the conditions offered to us ... would
have been somewhat worse. I further maintained that it was incumbent
on us to conclude peace before the battle of Mukden. Then the terms
as compared with those of 1903 would have been still more
unfavourable. It was my conviction that we ought to have made peace
when Roshdjestvensky made his appearance in Chinese waters. At that
moment the terms would have been almost the same as after the Mukden
engagement. Lastly, in my judgment, it is our duty to make peace
before a fresh battle is fought with Linievitch's army."
It is known only to a few persons now living that in the early summer
of 1904, that is to say some months after the outbreak of the war,
Witte had expressed his desire to meet Hayashi in order to consult
with him as to the best way to end it. The Japanese minister
consented to meet him somewhere on the continent, but the matter was
then allowed to drop because the Tsar would not hear of it.
How well the Japanese understood the position of Russian ministers
and their entire dependence on the Tsar may be inferred from this
passage in one of Hayashi's letters written about that time:[17] "I
have great respect and faith in Mr. Witte, but he is not now in a
position of influencing[18] the Council of Tsar with his advice, and
even supposing he is in power, yet he can never be his own master,
since Tsar holds the authority to veto whatever Mr. Witte may do."
This is not the place for a detailed account either of the {297}
Portsmouth Peace Conference[19] or of the strenuous but vain efforts
which were put forth by a number of private individuals to end the
war sooner. The first man to go to work earnestly was Witte, who had
incurred the Tsar's displeasure for asking permission to meet the
Japanese minister to the court of St. James, Viscount Hayashi, before
the war was more than five months old. In the following year the
names of a certain M. Galy, Count Benckendorff, the commercial
attaché at the Russian Embassy, M. Rutkoffsky, and Baron von
Eckhardstein of the German Embassy crop up, but they only write or
talk. Nothing can be done. Hayashi quite naturally connected
Witte's name with the idea of peace, as did most Japanese. His name
was a household word in Nippon. A few years before, when M. Izvolsky
was Russia's envoy plenipotentiary in Tokio, several ministers,
courtiers, and other notabilities had asked him to endeavour to
arrange that Witte should visit Japan, where he was thought much of
as Russia's most eminent statesman. And M. Izvolsky wrote or
telegraphed to Petersburg transmitting the invitation and urging its
acceptance. Witte's reply was curt, and to the effect that
travelling to Japan formed no part of his business. Later on,
however, it turned out that the only reason why the wish of the
Japanese ministers was not fulfilled was the Tsar's resolve that
Witte should not go to Japan. Here again the personal intervention
of Nicholas II. was felt as an impeding factor. And now once more
Hayashi's wish to meet the statesman in Berlin could not be fulfilled
because Nicholas II. had set his face against it.
On the other hand, Japan was unwilling to take the first step.
"Japan," Hayashi had written in February, "will welcome peace, and
will cultivate friendship with her present enemy after the conclusion
of peace." But, he added, the proposal must come from the power that
began the war.
At last President Roosevelt had the moral courage to take {298} the
initiative, without which the appalling human sacrifices in the
millet fields of Manchuria might have gone on some months longer.
The two belligerent empires closed with the proposal unhesitatingly.
As soon as the Tsar had thought the matter over, he offered the
dangerous mission to Muravieff,[20] his ambassador in Rome, Nelidoff
being unable for reasons of health to travel so far afield.
Lamsdorff had suggested the name of Witte, but the monarch negatived
it without hesitation. Just when Muravieff had also begged to be
excused, a letter was received by Lamsdorff from M. Izvolsky, who, it
is alleged, was the Tsar's delegate in petto and was then
representing Russia at the court of Denmark. This missive eulogised
Witte, declared that his prestige in Japan was enormous and would
facilitate his task of peacemaker, and warmly advocated his
appointment. Lamsdorff availed himself of this opening to press the
matter again, and Nicholas II. finally decided to delegate Witte to
the United States.[21] He at once sent for me and asked me to say
what answer I, were I in his place, would return to this offer. That
was Witte's usual way of eliciting a frank opinion, to which he
invariably brought careful consideration and a perfectly open mind.
He always consulted those about him in whose judgment he had
confidence, even when he had strong grounds for presupposing that the
advice would be diametrically opposed to his own leanings or
preconceived resolve. When I had given him my views on the offer, he
said, "That is exactly how I thought you would look upon it. Now
this is what I think: I have been chosen not so much to render a
service to my country as--figuratively speaking--to stumble and break
my neck. They really want to go on with the war. It is calculated
that the chances of my striking up a peace on really acceptable
conditions are superlatively slight, and that in all probability,
therefore, I shall fail. Then I shall be dead and buried. But my
well-wishers go further and argue that if I should succeed in {299}
ending the war on the terms that unfortunately are congruous with the
military situation, my name will become odious to every
self-respecting Russian."
"And what have you decided to do?" I asked.
"I will accept and go. I hope you will come too and help me."
I soon saw that President Roosevelt's invitation had elicited, in the
ruling spheres of Russia, the merest notional assent. In the mind of
the Tsar the firm intention of putting an end to the war can hardly
be said to have existed. Nicholas II. communicated through his
ministers with the principal notabilities, military, naval, and
civil, and asked them to give him the benefit of their opinion on the
advisability of ending the war. And the vast majority of the answers
were distinctly unfavourable. Having perused the secret reports of
Generals Linievitch, Sakharoff,[22] Kuropatkin, Admiral Birileff, and
others, I began to fear that the conflict would go on. The War
Minister Sakharoff's report began thus: "In reply to your letter of
the 16th June, No. 1060, I have the honour to inform you that, in my
judgment, under the present conditions to conclude peace is
impossible, because one cannot admit that Russia should confess
herself beaten by Japan."[23] Kuropatkin, who, after the death of
the Foreign Minister, Muravieff, deliberately inclined to a
conciliatory policy in the Far East, and who possessed the ways and
means of knowing the true state of things there, was enthusiastic in
his plea for continuing the war in Manchuria and for patience in
Russia, while his promises of decisive victory were so confident, so
emphatic, so frequent and circumstantial that it would have been rash
were the crown to treat them slightingly so long as it maintained him
at the head of the forces.
Thus on the eve of the Portsmouth Conference the chiefs of the army
in Manchuria were quite confident of a speedy victory and ultimate
success, and were consequently {300} impatient of the folly of the
mere civilian "who craved for peace" before the army had plucked a
laurel in the campaign. Russian military critics, who could and
should have known the real facts, calculated that, as things then
stood, the odds were largely in favour of Linievitch's army, which
was also increasing in numbers much more quickly than the enemy's
troops. Telegrams and petitions were received by the score from the
seat of war imploring the imperial generalissimo to confide in his
soldiers, who were thirsting for glory and victory. In a word, the
decision to close with Witte's suggestions and enter into
negotiations with Japan, although to the few it seemed obvious,
imperative, pressing, needed more insight and courage than one
imagines at this distance. Those who knew how restless the nation
had grown and what ravages disaffection had made in the army rated
the estimates of Kuropatkin and Linievitch at their true value, and
saw that an immediate peace was Russia's last hope of salvation.
The Finance Minister,[24] who throughout this and the ensuing crisis
behaved most patriotically, wrote a very sensible answer to the
Tsar's question, which concluded thus, "Generally speaking, in my
capacity of Minister of Finance, I feel compelled to admit that the
continuation of the campaign--things being in the condition in which
they are at the war theatre and more particularly in the interior of
the country--appears extremely difficult, and the conclusion of peace
is, from the financial point of view, supremely desirable." But the
general impression left in the mind of Nicholas II. by all these
expressions of opinion was that victory was a mere matter of a few
months more. And even later in the year, when Witte was already at
Portsmouth negotiating with the Japanese, he received telegrams
enjoining on him firmness and enterprise on the ground that the army
was now confident of victory. The Marine Minister, for example,
telegraphed to his delegate saying, "Tell (Witte) that public opinion
in Russia, including that of even the {301} highest circles, holds
that no humiliating concessions must be assented to by us. The
temper has changed, patriotism is aflame. Self-confident tidings are
pouring in from the army." This was the minister whose own
patriotism soon afterwards stood in need of defence and who a few
months before had assisted the Emperor to perpetrate an act which it
is hard not to qualify as treachery.
As soon as Witte had definitely taken upon himself the conduct of the
negotiations and the Japanese government had nominated the Mikado's
delegate he asked me as a friend whether I would call on the Japanese
minister in London, Viscount Hayashi, and lay before him an important
proposal which, if accepted, would go far to render his labours in
America successful. It was to the effect that instead of Komura the
Marquis Ito should be sent to the peace conference by the Japanese
government, and should be invested with full powers to arrange not
merely such a peace as is ordinarily possible after a hard-fought
campaign, but also cordial friendship, the outward sign of which
would be an alliance for all purposes of the future development of
the two peoples. This idea had already been suggested by Witte to
Lamsdorff who had formulated it in one of his instructions. It had
also been mooted by Hayashi in a private letter which Witte had read.
The passage ran: "Japan will welcome peace, and will cultivate
friendship with her present enemy after the conclusion of peace."
That, Witte remarked to me, contained the solution of the Far Eastern
problem and the clearing up of the misunderstandings between Japan
and Russia. The war could not, he added, be followed by formal peace
only; it must be obliterated by friendship as well. Then, and only
then, would peace be established on a solid basis. That was Witte's
view before he started for Portsmouth, and it became the keystone of
the arch of Russia's foreign Far Eastern policy as M. Izvolsky
envisaged it ever since.
I called on Hayashi and opened to him Witte's desire and on what
public grounds it was that he entertained it. As a matter of fact,
Witte believed that Komura had thrust {302} himself forward as
Japan's chief plenipotentiary, while others held that Ito had
declined to accept the mission which Komura had offered him. But
whatever the cause of Komura's appointment may have been it was
immutable. The Tokio cabinet was unable to accede to either of
Witte's demands, and on board the German steamer that was taking us
to New York I gave him a detailed written account of my conversation
with the Japanese statesman.[25] Hayashi in his memoirs alludes to
this matter as follows: "I met (Dr. Dillon) two or three times whilst
I was in London. When Count de Witte proceeded to America as the
chief Russian plenipotentiary to negotiate the terms of peace at
Portsmouth, Dr. Dillon paid me a visit in London, and I had a long
conversation with him on various subjects. The principal object of
his visit to me was to request me to do everything which I could to
induce the Japanese government to dispatch Marquis Ito to America as
the principal Japanese peace commissioner.
{303}
"When the negotiations were proceeding at Portsmouth it was Dr.
Dillon who controlled the American press for the benefit of De Witte.
At that time most of the prominent British and American
correspondents who had collected at Portsmouth had gone there
inclined to be in favour of Japan.
"Dr. Dillon used these men to publish the real existing state of
affairs without any reserve whatsoever, and was unrivalled by anybody
on the Japanese side in creating a favourable public opinion. He did
it almost entirely by relying on the influence of the American
papers, to whose correspondents at Portsmouth he always stated the
exact position of affairs. On the Japanese side, on the other hand,
nothing was done like this. True, there was a member of the Japanese
Foreign Office staff attached to the Peace Commission, and it was
supposed to be his duty to receive the newspaper men. In fact he had
nothing else to do but that. But he made his principal task the
denying of every statement which might appear.
"In view of my experience in diplomacy I considered that such a
course was a matter of the greatest regret. Comparing the action of
the two sides at Portsmouth, as regards the press, it was only
natural that the umpire's fan was pointed at Japan from the very
outset of negotiations, and she was never able to recover from the
unsatisfactory press position into which she allowed herself to fall,
a position which was principally due to the fact that the Japanese
authorities preserved far too much silence as to the progress of the
negotiations.
"With regard to the Russo-Japanese Agreement, about which I commenced
to speak, Prince Yamagata and Prince Ito, as well as M. Isvolsky,
recognised the absolute necessity of concluding an agreement such as
had been outlined by Dr. Dillon in his articles to which I have
referred."
Seldom has a statesman found himself in deeper or more dangerous
waters than Russia's first representative at the peace conference,
under conditions which were understood to have deterred professional
diplomatists. He foresaw at {304} the outset the fate that was
expected to overtake him. Having uniformly pleaded for peace when it
could have been had on advantageous terms, he was now called upon to
conclude it on conditions which must strike every patriotic Russian
as irksome and humiliating. Consequently, if he failed to come to an
agreement, the finger of scorn would be pointed at the man who had
blamed others for not undertaking what he now admitted to be
impossible, while if he succeeded he would be open to the charge of
having betrayed his country. But there was another consideration
more discouraging to him than these: whatever peace he might make
would be no better than a truce unless he could also strike up a
genuine friendship such as Japan had so often before proffered and
Russia refused. And his proposal to work in that direction was now
vetoed by the Tsar who, seemingly, was indulging in mental
reservation. But was either nation prepared for the sudden
transition from war to friendship? That was the question to be
solved. Witte's very first step, before he had even set foot upon
American soil, was to obtain a clear and correct idea of the light in
which Japan would regard a course which seemed the outcome of
statesmanlike and comprehensive views. And the result was
disheartening. Japan had changed her mind. That dismal fact was
elicited before the conference met. The outcome of Witte's
ruminations on that reverse was the historic wireless message which I
sent across to London from mid-Atlantic.
The course of the negotiations at Portsmouth and the creditable part
played by President Roosevelt in preventing their failure have not
yet been forgotten. It would, however, be well worth recording the
experiences of Witte during that trying ordeal, the influences
against which he had to contend, the necessity and the difficulty of
winning public opinion in the United States, and of preparing a way
for Russia's access to the American money market and conciliating the
Jews, with whose leaders there he had a long talk, ending in mutual
promises. The Tsar was particularly anxious that the failure of the
conference, which he deemed very probable, should not be attributable
nor attributed to {305} the Russians, and the ways and means of
bringing this to pass--while honestly endeavouring to arrive at a
satisfactory agreement--constituted the subject of many of my talks
with Witte in the Portsmouth hotel. This was natural seeing that it
was I who was designated, in case the conference broke up without a
peace treaty to show for its labours, to write a long explanatory
telegram in Russian, addressed to the Tsar, stating the case for his
plenipotentiaries and exculpating them from all blame for the
failure. Witte was to sign that telegram, of which I would send an
English translation to the _Daily Telegraph_ and enable all other
journalists to telegraph it at the same time to their papers. All
our strategy was inspired by these motives from the day when Witte
through me sent from mid-ocean one of his most important utterances
on the subject of the negotiations down to his manœuvres at the
last sittings of Portsmouth.
What Hayashi had said of the Russian statesman in one of his letters
before the peace negotiations, that he would have to bow to the
Emperor's will, seemed now to be coming true. He was constantly
receiving messages of which the only effect and perhaps the main
object was to make him feel this his dependence on the Tsar. Several
times Nicholas II., through Lamsdorff, virtually assumed that the
labours of the conference must come to nought.[26] As a matter of
fact, about a fortnight before an agreement was come to Witte asked
me to write in haste the Russian telegram for the Tsar and to read it
to him.[27] I did so, and he approved it fully.[28] The main
obstacles to peace consisted in Japan's demands for a money indemnity
and for the retention of Sakhalien[29] and the limitation of Russia's
fleet in Far Eastern waters. {306} Witte in a telegram summarised
the situation for his government as follows:[30] "We did not agree
respecting payment of military expenses, Sakhalien, restrictions of
the fleet, the vessels in neutral waters; yet on Monday the final
sitting will be held, and for that reason if there is no concession
by one side or the other we shall separate. Japan's intentions after
that are unknown. Probably they will give way on (10) about ships in
neutral waters and on (11) respecting limitation of fleet. But they
won't abandon (5) about Sakhalien, nor (6) about military indemnity.
In view of vast importance of subject I think it ought to be
considered and speedy resolution taken. Continuation of war would
surely be greater disaster for Russia. We can defend ourselves more
or less, but can hardly conquer Japan. Forecast of a favourable
result may be grounded only on exhaustion of Japan's resources. Am
unable say what sacrifices can be made to avoid war and its horrors
and whether internal conditions would terminate with unfavourable
peace. It is obligation of imperial government to discuss subject
and submit resolution to Emperor. I venture utter following modest
thought: the fate of ships in neutral waters is important from point
view of national dignity. But has no practical significance. It is
the same with the limitation of our fleet. For practically we should
not be able hold fleet in Far East capable of fighting Japs. But
question of indemnity is important as touching Russia's dignity and
her vital interests as well. Therefore it disquiets Russia's heart.
Sakhalien is important because it was ours, is rich in minerals, and
is a foreport of Amoor River. But Japs had certain rights there
before ever we had acquired any. We did not utilise its wealth nor
should we do so for very long. Japs are for guarantee that Sakhalien
shall not be used for strategic or technical purposes against us.
Even if island remains ours, still the straits that can be navigated
by great vessels will be under the power of the Japs. Our main
misfortune is that island is in hands of Japs, and I don't see
possibility of recovering it at least for some decades to come.
Deeming {307} it my sacred duty to set forth the above I await urgent
instructions."
Lamsdorff informed Witte[31] that he was mistaken in supposing that
his powers would allow him to abandon the island of Sakhalien to
Japan. This is by no means the case, and the Tsar wishes him to
treat this explanatory statement as a supplement to his instructions.
Another message[32] expressly forbids him to surrender Sakhalien
together with the neighbouring islands and the railroad from Kharbin
to Port Arthur. On the 13th August a telegram was received enjoining
on him, if the negotiations failed, to arrange so that they might
readily be resumed later on. Then it is the Grand Duke Nikolai
Nikolayevitch whom the Tsar must consult before Witte may again meet
the Japanese delegates. The Tsar had written: "Inasmuch as the
negotiations are bound to be broken off in a few days, no armistice
must be concluded."[33] On 19th August, Witte telegraphed: "Final
sitting will be Tuesday, 3 p.m., not Monday." On 19th August he was
becoming nervous in consequence of the attitude of the Emperor and he
sent this personal telegram to Lamsdorff: "In view of the Tsar's
resolution on my telegram No. 15 I consider further negotiations
quite useless. Still I will wait, as you wish, for answers to my
telegrams based on private conversation with Komura. In no case can
the decisions be waited for very long: two or three days after
Tuesday, but no longer. Congruously with your despatch No. 432 I
will endeavour to arrange so that together with the Japs we may
request President to summon new conference whenever he may deem it
opportune--so as not to shut the door entirely."
The Tsar's resolution which thus discouraged his plenipotentiary was
this sentence scribbled across Witte's telegram about Japan's
demands: "It has already been said: not a rood of territory, not a
rouble of money for military expenses. On this ground I will stand
to the end." The next notification is that Nicholas II.--for he it
was that made {308} every decision except the most important one of
all, which as we shall see Witte deliberately wrested from him after
long reflection--refuses to cede the southern half of Sakhalien and
pay for the northern part.[34] Then comes the statement that the
Grand Duke Nikolai Nikolayevitch finds Japan's peace conditions
inacceptable, and Lamsdorff adds: "His Majesty's final decision and
the imperial instructions respecting the breaking off of the
negotiations I can communicate to you only after my personal loyal
submission, probably to-morrow evening."[35]
To this Witte pertinently replied: "When conference is over and world
gets insight into our work it will say that Russia was right to
refuse indemnity, but it will not be with us on question of
Sakhalien. For facts are stronger than arguments and mental
combinations, and the central fact is that the Japs possess Sakhalien
and we cannot take it back. If, therefore, we wish to shift blame
for failure of conference to Japanese shoulders we must not refuse
both the cession of Sakhalien and also indemnity. If we want
sympathy of America and of Europe too we must give definite answer,
taking Roosevelt into account."
At last the knell of the conference appeared to sound. A telegram
was received which after a short preamble terminated thus: "In view
of all this it has pleased his imperial Majesty to command you to
break off further discussions with the Japanese delegates if they are
not empowered to abandon the exorbitant claims they have put
forward."[36] Another despatch of the same date authorises Witte to
apprise President Roosevelt that the Tsar has ordered the abandonment
of the debates, to thank him for his co-operation, and to hint that
under more favourable conditions Russia would again meet Japan's
representatives and talk the matter over. A third message sent from
Petersburg on the same day enjoins on Witte to inform Lamsdorff the
exact date when negotiations are to be formally broken off, as the
Tsar's government must issue a communication.
But Witte, now in sight of the goal, would not be trifled {309} with
in this way any longer. He took things into his own hands and
decided on his own responsibility that he would not carry out the
Emperor's instructions and break up the conference. It cost him a
great effort to make this resolve. Here is an extract from the
message in which he announces it to Lamsdorff: "Congruously with the
instructions received we would break off the negotiations to-morrow
and make due communication to the President. But in view of the
letter received from the President which has been forwarded to you
_in extenso_, and which calls for a reply from his Majesty, I
consider it inadvisable to end the sittings before that reply has
come. I will try, therefore, unless the Japs raise difficulties, to
postpone the final sitting until that reply has come. With the Japs
I think we have finished, but to break off before his Majesty's
answer is received would, I fear, be to offend the President. And it
seems advisable to do nothing to drive the President over to the Japs
who, even as it is, have done their utmost to win America's
sympathies."
A curious thing happened on the eve of the agreement when the Tsar's
plenipotentiary, after having painfully dislodged the mountains of
obstacles which had separated him from the goal, stood at last in
sight of it, and within a few hours of attaining all that Russia
could reasonably expect. Between him and the precious objects for
which he had been working there suddenly arose the insignificant
figure of Nicholas II. commanding him to end everything immediately
on receipt of the despatch and return home. This is how it came
about. On 27th August he had telegraphed to the Foreign Secretary as
follows:
"To-day I was informed through the secretaries that Takahira wished
to speak to me. I signified my readiness to receive him in my room
after dinner. On entering Takahira said that in view of the fourteen
hours' difference in time at Tokio he had not yet received reply.
Therefore, he would ask me to fix the sitting not for to-morrow but
for Tuesday. I replied I considered I had no right to refuse
request. But I again declared most categorically that on no account
will {310} we consent to go back upon the decisions taken congruously
with the last imperial instructions, that I will reject every new
proposal without referring it to Petersburg. Therefore, if he
reckons upon our yielding he is wasting his time and ours and keeping
the world on tenterhooks to no good purpose. Apparently Takahira
acquired conviction that I meant what I said. Having thanked me for
postponement he withdrew. From my conversation with him I came to
conclusion he was acquainted with Tsar's answer to President and
generally with negotiations with Meyer in Petersburg." The next day
Lamsdorff answered thus: "28th August. On your telegram of yesterday
No. 42 it pleased his Majesty the Emperor to write: 'Send Witte my
command to end the discussions at all hazard to-morrow. I had rather
go on with the war than await gracious concessions from Japan.'"
Luckily for Russia, Witte paid no heed to this behest and ended
everything satisfactorily.
The odd way in which Nicholas II. received the tidings that his
plenipotentiary had secured peace for Russia and indirectly a new
lease of power for the reigning dynasty was wholly in keeping with
that monarch's character. On the morning when Komura and Takahira
gave way and the terms were agreed to, Witte sent this message to the
Tsar: "I have the honour to inform your imperial Majesty that
Japanese have accepted your demands respecting conditions of peace,
and in this way peace will be restored, thanks to your wise and firm
decisions, and in precise congruity with your dispensations. Russia
will remain in Far East the great power she was hitherto and will
ever remain. We set our whole mind and Russian heart to the
fulfilment of your behests. We beseech you graciously to forgive if
we failed to achieve more. Your loyal servant, Sergius Witte."
The next day brought an answer. I remember the eagerness with which
my friend snatched it and ran his eye over it, and then the change
that came into his face as he threw it to me and exclaimed, "Good
God! Read that!" This is what I read:[37] "Peterhof, 30th August,
1905. Do not {311} sign the conditions of the peace negotiations
until amount for keep of war prisoners is fixed and ratified by me
after you have notified it. Nikolai." That was the imperial
message. No thanks, no tribute of recognition. Not a word more.
Witte's ex-pupil the Grand Duke Michael behaved differently. From
him came these brief but cordial words: "My heartfelt congratulations
on brilliant termination of grandiose work achieved for well-being of
dear Fatherland."
Witte grew impatient and apprehensive. He kept speculating on what
was going forward in Peterhof and Petersburg and ruminating on the
strange mental workings of the Tsar. And the things he apprehended
were dismal, but I believe quite possible. But I cheered him up and
prophesied that before the end of the year he would have received the
title of Count. This prediction irritated in lieu of soothing him,
for he was prepared for something very different from that. The
nervous strain was great. On the third day, however, his suspense
was ended by a chilling telegram from the Emperor which grudgingly
paid a tribute to the benefactor of his country and sovereign. It
ran thus: "I express to you my thanks for the able, firm conduct of
the negotiations which you worked out to a good issue for Russia.
Convey my gratitude to Baron Rosen and the remaining delegates.
Nikolai."
It was not until the whole world, including Kaiser Wilhelm, had sung
the praises of Russia's greatest statesman that the Tsar, unbent a
little, joined the chorus of applause, and seemed to recognise the
worth of the service rendered by his most distinguished subject. But
that is another story which brings us to Björke and the strange
doings there of Nicholas II. and the German Kaiser.
[1] 8th April, 1903.
[2] General Kuropatkin's memoirs about the Russo-Japanese war (in
Russian), pp. 151, 152. Cf. Burtzeff, _The Tsar and Foreign Policy_
(in Russian), pp. 13,14.
[3] In July, 1903. A whole series of telegrams that passed between
these plunder-seekers was collected, and I received a copy which I
still possess. In some of these despatches the Tsar is alluded to as
the "proprietor."
[4] Vladimir Burtzeff is one of these publicists.
[5] Baron Rosen, afterwards Russian ambassador at Washington during
the peace negotiations with Japan.
[6] M. Izvolsky.
[7] Count Muravieff.
[8] Throughout this book I employ the word Asiatic in the sense in
which it is applied to Turkey or Persia, not in the sense in which
Japan, who unites the higher qualities of the European and the
Mongol, is an Asiatic State.
[9] On the 28th January, 1904.
[10] The telegram is dated 8th February.
[11] I induced Count Witte to narrate it a few years later to one of
our own most distinguished generals who was writing on the subject.
I tell the story from memory because the account dictated to me by
the statesman is among those documents of mine which are no longer
accessible for the moment.
[12] The Germans have recently had recourse to exactly the same
tactics, on a more grandiose scale, under more auspicious
circumstances and with far-resonant effects. On the and November,
1914, the Imperial German Bank issued a circular letter to
corresponding banks in Stockholm undertaking to supply the Russian
Bolsheviks Zinovieff and Lunatcharski with money for their agitation
and propaganda "only on the express condition that this agitation and
this propaganda directed by MM. Zinovieff and Lunatcharski shall
reach the armies of the front." Another circular dated 23rd
February, 1915, from the Director of the Press in the Ministry of
Foreign Affairs to all ambassadors, ministers plenipotentiary, etc.,
in neutral countries announces the formation of offices for
propaganda in the belligerent countries of the Entente "for the
purpose of creating social movements accompanied by strikes,
revolutionary outbursts, separatist movements, and civil war, as well
as agitation in favour of disarmament and the cessation of this
sanguinary war."
[13] On 20th June and 1st July, 1905.
[14] It turned upon one of the non-Russian nationalities which was
being incited to rebel. The wished-for consummation could perhaps
have been achieved without much effort, but the question was
put:--Would it prove a real advantage to Japan or the reverse? The
War Office held that it would impair in lieu of furthering the
interests of Nippon. And it was proved to be right.
[15] Bulyghin was a minister whose only title to fame reposes on his
association with the first reform promised during the Manchurian
campaign. The Tsar charged him with the creation of a representative
assembly to have a consultative voice in legislation.
[16] Witte gave me copies of many of his important letters. A great
many others passed through my hands when we were putting all his
correspondence in order for his memoirs. This particular letter to
Count A. Heyden is dated the 17th/30th July, 1905.
[17] Dated 9th March, 1905; London, 4, Grosvenor Gardens. The letter
is addressed to M. Galy.
[18] I have left the late ambassador's English unchanged.
[19] I possess all the documents, confidential and others, that
passed between the interested governments and statesmen on the
subject, from the letters of M. Galy and Viscount Hayashi in
February, 1905, and those of M. Galy and Witte, down to the little
note scribbled by the Tsar in pencil inviting the successful
peace-makers to visit him at Björke.
[20] The ex-Minister of Justice, a clever cultured man and no
relation to the defunct Minister of Foreign Affairs.
[21] On 29th June (Russian style), 1905.
[22] Sakharoff's report was marked "extremely secret," and contained
a detailed estimate of the Russian and Japanese troops in Manchuria.
It was dated 18th June (1st July), 1905.
[23] Sakharoff then goes on to say what he would advise if his view
should be rejected.
[24] At that time M. Kokofftseff occupied the post. His letter is
dated the 20th June (old style).
[25] Count Hayashi in his _Secret Memoirs_, published in London
(Eveleigh Nash, 1915), devotes a couple of pages to the part I took
in Russo-Japanese relations as he saw it, from which the following
extract deals with the two treaties concluded between these empires:
"In the beginning of 1907 Dr. Dillon contributed two articles to
reviews in England, urging the necessity of a Russo-Japanese
rapprochement. These articles were shown to M. Motono, our
ambassador at St. Petersburg, by M. Isvolsky, who was at that time
the Russian Minister for Foreign Affairs. These articles were
evidently written after conversation with some high person in the
Russian government, and M. Motono believed that they indicated the
undoubted intention of the Russian government of entering into an
agreement with Japan on the lines laid down in the articles. M.
Motono drew the attention of the Japanese Foreign Office to the
articles and asked for an opinion on them.
"I should say something about Dr. Dillon. His father was an
Englishman and his mother was Irish." [This is a _lapsus calami_.
It was the other way round.] "He was educated at various continental
universities, and he possessed several high diplomas of learning.
For some time he was professor at various Russian universities and
also had been the proprietor of a newspaper at Odessa.
"He ... resided in St. Petersburg. At the time I was minister and
ambassador in London, Dr. Dillon was the St. Petersburg correspondent
of the _Daily Telegraph_, and probably is so to-day. He certainly
was most extraordinarily well acquainted with all Russian affairs,
and any statement made by him in the _Daily Telegraph_ having
reference to Russia was always regarded as being based on the highest
authority."
[26] On the 20th August, Lamsdorff informed Witte that in case the
conference fails the Tsar wishes him to visit certain centres in the
United States in order to win the sympathy of the population for
Russia.
[27] About the 15th or 16th August.
[28] It is among his papers. I also have a copy which is not now
accessible to me.
[29] The northern half was (as Komura afterwards explained) to be
sold to Russia for 1,200,000,000 yen.
[30] 4th/17th August.
[31] Secret telegram, No. 384, 18th/31st July.
[32] 12th August.
[33] 19th August.
[34] 20th August.
[35] 21st August.
[36] 22nd August.
[37] The telegram was in Russian, but in Latin letters.
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