THE JAPANESE-RUSSIAN WAR
During the fall and early winter of 1903 Richard and his wife lingered
on in Marion, but came to New York after the Christmas holidays. The
success of his farce "The Dictator" had been a source of the greatest
pleasure to Richard, and he settled down to playwriting with the same
intense zeal he put into all of his work. However, for several years
Robert J. Collier and my brother had been very close friends, and
Richard had written many articles and stories for Collier's Weekly, so
that when Collier urged my brother to go to the Japanese-Russian War as
correspondent with the Japanese forces, Richard promptly gave up his
playwriting and returned to his old love--the role of reporter.
Accompanied by his wife, Richard left New York for San Francisco in
February.
February, 1904.
DEAR MOTHER:
We are really off on the "long trail" bound for the boundless East. We
have a charming drawing-room, a sympathetic porter and a courtly
conductor descended from one of the first Spanish conquerors of
California. We arranged the being late for lunch problem by having
dinner at five and cutting the lunch out. Bruce and Nan came over for
dinner and we had a very jolly time. They all asked after you all, and
drank to our re-union at Marion in July. Later they all tried to come
with us on the train. It looked so attractive with electric lights in
each seat, and observation car and library. A reporter interviewed us
and Mr. Clark gave us a box of segars and a bottle of whiskey. But
they will not last, as will Dad's razors and your housewife. I've used
Dad's razors twice a day, and they still are perfect. It's snowing
again, but we don't care. They all came to the station to see us off
but no one cried this time as they did when we went to South Africa.
Somehow we cannot take this trip seriously. It is such a holiday trip
all through not grim and human like the Boer war. Just quaint and
queer. A trip of cherry blossoms and Geisha girls. I send all my love
to you.
DICK.
SAN FRANCISCO, February 26th.
DEAR MOTHER:
We got in here last night at midnight just as easily as though we were
coming into Jersey City. Before we knew it we had seen the Golden
Gate, and were snug in this hotel. Today as soon as we learned we
could not sail we started in to see sights and we made a record and
hung it up high. We went to the Cliff House and saw the seals on the
rocks below, to the Park, the military reservation, Chinatown, and the
Poodle Dog Restaurant. We also saw the Lotta monument, the Stevenson
monument, the Spreckles band stand, the place where the Vigilance
Committee hung the unruly, and tonight I went to a dinner the Bohemian
Club gave to the War correspondents. I made a darned good speech.
Think of ME making a speech of any sort, but I did, and I had sense
enough not to talk about the war but the "glorious climate of
California" instead and of all the wonders of Frisco. So, I made a
great hit. It certainly is one of the few cities that lives up to it's
reputation in every way. I should call it the most interesting city,
with more character back of it than any city on this continent. There
are only four deck rooms and we each have one. The boat is small, but
in spite of the crowd that is going on her, will I think be
comfortable. I know it will be that, and it may be luxurious.
DICK.
On way to Japan.
March 13th, 1904.
About four this afternoon we saw an irregular line of purple mountains
against a yellow sky, and it was Japan. In spite of the Sunday papers,
and the interminable talk on board, the guide books and maps which had
made Japan nauseous to me, I saw the land of the Rising Sun with just
as much of a shock and thrill as I first saw the coast of Africa. We
forgot entirely we had been twenty days at sea and remembered only that
we were ten miles from Japan, only as far as New Bedford is from
Marion. We are at anchor now, waiting to go in in the morning. Were
it not for war we could go in now but we must wait to be piloted over
the sunken mines. That and the flashlights moving from the cruisers
ten miles away gave us our first idea of war. To-morrow early we will
be off for Tokio, as it is only forty miles from Yokohama. Of course,
I may get all sorts of news before we land, but that is what we expect
to do. It will be good to feel solid earth, and to see the kimonos and
temples and geishas and cherry blossoms. I am almost hoping the
Government won't let us go to the front and that for a week at least
Cecil and I can sit in tea houses with our shoes off while the nesans
bring us tea and the geishas rub their knees and make bows to us. I am
sending you through Harper's, a book on Hawaii and one of Japan that I
have read and like and which I think will help you to keep in touch
with the wanderers. With all my love to all.
DICK.
TOKYO, March 22nd, 1904.
DEAR MOTHER:
The "situation" here continues to remain in such doubt that I cannot
tell of it, as it changes hourly. There are three "columns," so far
existing only in imagination. That is, so far as they concern the
correspondents. The first lot have chosen themselves, and so have the
second lot. But the first lot are no nearer starting than they were
two weeks ago. I may be kept waiting here for weeks and weeks. I do
not like to turn out Palmer, although I very much want to go with the
first bunch. On the other hand I am paid pretty well to get to the
front, and I am uncertain as to what I ought to do. If the second
column were to start immediately after the first, we then would have
two men in the field, but if it does not, then Collier will be paying
$1000. a week for stories of tea houses and "festivals." Palmer
threatens to resign if I take his place in the first column and that
would be a loss to the paper that I do not feel I could make up. If it
gets any more complicated I'll wire Collier to decide.
Meanwhile, we are going out to dinners and festivals and we ride. I
have a good pony the paper paid for Cecil has hired another and we find
it delightful to scamper out into the country. We have three rooms in
a row. One we use for a sitting room. They look very welland as it is
still cold we keep them cheerful with open fires. We have a table in
the dining-room to ourselves and to which we can ask our friends. The
food is extremely good. Griscom and the Secretaries have all called
and sent pots of flowers, and we are dining out every other night. In
the day we shop and ride. But all day and all night we the
correspondents plot and slave and intrigue over the places on the
columns. I got mine on the second column all right but no one knows if
it ever will move. So, naturally, I want to be on the first. The rows
are so engrossing that I have not enjoyed the country as I expected.
Still, I am everlastingly glad we came. It is an entirely new life and
aspect. It completes so much that we have read and seen. In spite of
the bother over the war passes I learn things daily and we see
beautiful and curious things, and are educated as to the East, as no
books could have done it for us. John Bass who was my comrade in arms
in Greece and his wife are here. They are the very best. Also we see
Lloyd daily, and the hotel is full of amusing men, who are trying to
get to the front. Of course, we know less of the war than you do.
None of the news from Cheefoo, none of the "unauthorized" news reaches
us. Were it not for our own squabbles we would not know not only that
the country was at war but not even that war existed ANYWHERE in the
world. We are here entirely en tourist and it cannot be helped. The
men who tried to go with the Russians are equally unfortunate. Think
of us as wandering around each with a copy of Murray seeing sights.
That is all we really do, All my love.
DICK.
YOKOHAMA--April 2, 1904.
DEAR MOTHER:
I just got your letter dated the 28th of February and the days
following in which you worried over me in the ice coated trenches of
Korea. I read it in a rickshaw in a warm sun on my way to buy favors
for a dinner to Griscom. We have had three warm days and no doubt the
sun will be out soon. The loss of the sun, though, is no great one.
We have lots of pleasures and lots of troubles in spite of the Sun.
Yesterday the first batch of correspondents were sent on their way. I
doubt if they will get any further than Chemulpo but their going
cheered the atmosphere like a storm in summer. The diplomats and
Japanese were glad to get rid of them, they were delighted to be off.
Some had been here 58 days, and we all looked at it as a good sign as
it now puts us "next." But after they had gone it was pretty blue for
some of them were as good friends as I want. I know few men I like as
well as I do John Bass. Many of them were intensely interesting. It
was, by all odds, the crowd one would have wished to go with. As it
is, I suspect we all will meet again and that the two columns will be
merged on the Yalu. None of the attaches have been allowed to go, so
it really is great luck for the correspondents. Tell Chas I still am
buying my Kit. It's pretty nearly ready now. I began in New York and
kept on in Boston, San Francisco, and here. It always was my boast
that I had the most complete kit in the world, and in spite of
Charley's jeers at my lack of preparedness everybody here voted it the
greatest ever seen. For the last ten days all the Jap saddlers, tent
makers and tinsmiths have been copying it.
DICK.
TOKIO--May 2, 1904.
DEAR MOTHER:
Today, we walked into our new house and tomorrow we will settle down
there. We rented the furniture for the two unfurnished rooms; knives,
forks, spoons, china for the table and extras for 35 dollars gold for
two months. It took six men to bring the things in carts. They got
nothing. Yesterday, I took two rickshaw men from half past twelve to
half past five. Out of that time they ran and pushed me for two solid
hours. Their price for the five hours was eighty cents gold. What you
would pay a cabman to drive you from the Waldorf to Martin's. I wish
you could see our menage. Such beautiful persons in grey silk kimonos
who bow, and bow and slip and slide in spotless torn white stockings
with one big toe. They make you ashamed of yourself for walking on
your own carpet in your own shoes. Today we got the first news of the
battle on the Yalu, the battle of April 26-30th. I suppose Palmer and
Bass saw it; and I try to be glad I did what was right by Collier's
instead of for myself. But I don't want to love another paper. I
suppose there will be other fights but that one was the first, and it
must have been wonderful. On the 4th we expect to be on our way to
Kioto with Lloyd and his wife and John Fox. By that time we expect to
be settled in the new house.
DICK.
TOKIO, May 22nd, 1904.
DEAR MOTHER:
You will be glad to hear that the correspondents at the front are not
allowed within two and a half miles of the firing line. This I am sure
you will approve. Their tales of woe have just been received here, and
they certainly are having a hard time. The one thing they all hope for
is that the Japs will order them home. My temper is vile to-day, as I
cannot enjoy the gentle pleasures of this town any longer and with this
long trip to Port Arthur before I can turn towards home. I am as cross
as a sick bear. We were at Yokohama when your last letters came and
they were a great pleasure. I got splendid news of The Dictator.
Yesterday we all went to Yokohama. There are four wild American boys
here just out of Harvard who started the cry of "Ping Yang" for the
"Ping Yannigans" they being the "Yannigans." They help to make things
very lively and are affectionately regarded by all classes. Yesterday,
they and Fox and Cecil and I went to the races, with five ricksha boys
each, and everybody lost his money except myself. But it was great
fun. It rained like a seive, and all the gentlemen riders fell off,
and every time we won money our thirty ricksha men who would tell when
we won by watching at which window we had bet, would cheer us and
salaam until to save our faces we had to scatter largesses. Egan
turned up in the evening and dined with John and Cecil and me in the
Grand Hotel and told us first of all the story the correspondents had
brought back to Kobbe for which every one from the Government down has
been waiting. It would make lively reading if any of us dared to write
it. To-day he made his protests to Fukushima as we mapped them out
last night and the second lot will I expect be treated better. But, as
the first lot were the important men representing the important
syndicates the harm, for the Japs, has been done. Of course, much they
do is through not knowing our points of view. To them none of us is of
any consequence except that he is a nuisance, and while they are
conversationally perfect in politeness, the regulations they inflict
are too insulting. However, you don't care about that, and neither do
I. I am going to earn my money if I possibly can, and come home.
DICK.
TOKIO, June 13th, 1904.
DEAR MOTHER:
We gave a farewell dinner last night to the Ping Yannigans two of whom
left on the Navy expedition and another one to-morrow for God's
country. There were eight men and we had new lanterns painted with the
arms of Corea and the motto of the Ping Yannigans. Also many flags.
All but the Japanese flag. One of them with a side glance at the
servants said, "Gentleman and Lady: I propose a toast, Japan for the
Japanese and the Japanese for Japan." We all knew what he meant but
the servants were greatly pleased. Jack London turned up to-day on his
way home. I liked him very much. He is very simple and modest and
gave you a tremendous impression of vitality and power. He is very
bitter against the wonderful little people and says he carries away
with him only a feeling of irritation. But I told him that probably
would soon wear off and he would remember only the pleasant things. I
did envy him so, going home after having seen a fight and I not yet
started. Still THIS TIME we may get off. Yokoyama the contractor
takes our stuff on the 16th, and so we feel it is encouraging to have
our luggage at the front even if we are here.
DICK.
YOKOHAMA, July 26th, 1904.
DEAR MOTHER:
We gave in our passes to-day, and sail to-morrow at five. They say we
are not to see Port Arthur fall but are to be taken up to Oku's army.
That means we miss the "popular" story, and may have to wait around
several weeks before we see the other big fight. They promised us Port
Arthur but that is reason enough for believing they do not intend we
shall see it at all. John and I are here at a Japanese hotel, the one
Li Hung Chang occupied when he came over to arrange the treaty between
China and Japan. It is a very beautiful house, the best I have seen of
real Japanese and the garden and view of the harbor is magnificent. I
wish Cecil could see it too, but I know she would not care for a room
which is as free to the public view as the porch at Marion. It has 48
mats and as a mat is 3 x 5 you can work it out. We eat, sleep and
dress in this room and it is like trying to be at home on top of a
Chickering Grand. But it is very beautiful and the moonlight is fine
and saddening. No one of us has the least interest in the war or in
what we may see or be kept from seeing. We have been "over trained"
and not even a siege of London could hold our thoughts from home. I
have just missed the mail which would have told me you were at Marion.
I should so love to have heard from you from there. I do not think you
will find the Church house uncomfortable; and you can always run across
the road when the traffic is not too great, and chat with Benjamin. I
do hope that Dad will have got such good health from Marion and such
lashers of fish. I got a good letter from Charles and I certainly feel
guilty at putting extra work on a man as busy as he. Had I known he
was the real judge of those prize stories I would have sent him one
myself and given him the name of it. Well, goodbye for a little time.
We go on board in a few hours, and after that everything I write you is
read by the Censor so I shall not say anything that would gratify their
curiosity. They think it is unmanly to write from the field to one's
family and the young princes forbade their imperial spouses from
writing them until the war is over. However, not being an imperial
Samaari but a home loving, family loving American, I shall miss not
hearing very much, and not being able to tell you all how I love you.
DICK.
DALNY, July 27th, 1904.
DEAR MOTHER:
We left Shimonoseki three days ago and have had very pleasant going on
the Heijo Maru a small but well run ship of 1,500 tons. Fox and I got
one of the two best rooms and I have been very comfortable. We are at
anchor now at a place of no interest except for its sunsets.
We have just been told as the anchor is being lowered that we can send
letters back by the Island, so I can just dash this off before leaving.
We have reached Dalny and I have just heard the first shot fired which
was to send me home. All the others came and bid John and me a
farewell as soon as we were sure it was the sound of cannon. However,
as it is 20 miles away I'll have to hang on until I get a little
nearer. We have had a very pleasant trip even though we were delayed
two days by fog and a slow convoy. Now we are here at Dalny. It looks
not at all like its pictures, which, as I remember them were all taken
in winter. It is a perfectly new, good brick barracks-like town. I am
landing now. The two servants seem very satisfactory and I am in
excellent health. Today Cecil has been four days at Hong Kong. Please
send the gist of this letter dull as it is to Mrs. Clark. When I began
it I thought I would have plenty of time to finish it on shore. Of
course, after this all I write and this too, I suppose will be
censored. So, there will not be much liveliness. I have no taste to
expose my affections to the Japanese staff. So, goodbye.
R.
July 31st, 1904.
DEAR MOTHER:
We have been met here with a bitter disappointment. We are all to be
sent north, although only 18 hours away. We can hear the guns at Port
Arthur the fall of which they promised us we would see. To night we
are camping out in one of the Russian barracks. To-morrow we go,
partly by horse and partly by train. A week must elapse before we can
get near headquarters. And then we have no guarantee that we will see
any fighting. This means for me a long delay. It is very
disappointing and the worst of the many we have suffered in the last
four months. I have written Cecil asking her to seriously think of
going home but I am afraid she will not. Were it not for that and the
disappointment one feels in travelling a week's journey away from the
sound of guns I would be content. My horse is well and so am I. It is
good to get back to drawing water, and carrying baggage and skirmishing
about for yourself. The contractor gave us a good meal and the
servants are efficient but I like doing things myself and skirmishing
for them. We make a short ride this morning of six miles to Kin Chow
and then 30 miles by rail. "Headquarters" is about a five days ride
distant. Tell Chas my outfit seems nearly complete. Maybe I can buy a
few things I forgot in Boston at Kin Chow. Fox and I will get out just
as soon as we see fighting but before you get this you will probably
hear by cable from me. If not, it will mean we still are waiting for a
fight. The only mistake I made was in not going home the first time
they deceived us instead of waiting for this and worst of all.
to you all.
DICK.
MANCHURIA, August 14, 1904.
We have been riding through Manchuria for eleven days. Nine days we
rode then two days we rested. By losing the trail we managed to
average about 20 miles a day. I kept well and enjoyed it very much.
As I had to leave my servant behind with a sick horse, I had to take
care of my mule and pony myself and hunt fodder for them, so I was
pretty busy. Saiki did all he could, but he is not a servant and
sooner than ask him I did things myself. We passed through a very
beautiful country, sleeping at railway stations and saw two battle
fields of recent fights. Now we are in a Chinese City and waiting to
see what should be the biggest fight since Sedan. The Russians are
about ten miles from us, so we are not allowed outside the gates of the
city without a guide. Of course, we have none of that freedom we have
enjoyed in other wars, but apart from that they treat us very well
indeed. And in a day or two they promise us much fighting, which we
will be allowed to witness from a hill. This is a very queer old city
but the towns and country are all very primitive and we depend upon
ourselves for our entertainment. I expect soon to see you at home. In
three more days I shall have been out here five months and that is too
long. Good luck to you all.
R. H. D.
MANCHURIA, August 18th, 1904.
We still are inside this old Chinese town. It has rained for five
days, and this one is the first in which we could go abroad. Unless
you swim very well it is not safe to cross one of these streets. We
have found an old temple and some of us are in it now. It is such a
relief to escape from that compound and the rain. This place is full
of weeds and pine trees, cooing doves and butterflies. The temples are
closed and no one is in charge but an aged Chinaman. We did not come
here to sit in temples, so John and I will leave in a week, battle or
no battle. The argument that having waited so long one might as well
wait a little longer does not touch us. It was that argument that kept
us in Tokio when we knew we were being deceived weekly, and the same
man who deceived us there, is in charge here. It is impossible to
believe anything he tells his subordinates to tell us, so, we will be
on our way back when you get this. I am well, and only disappointed.
Had they not broken faith with us about Port Arthur we would by now
have seen fighting. As it is we will have wasted six months.
Love to Dad, and Chas and Nora and you.
DICK.
In writing of his decision to leave the Japanese army, Richard, after
his return to the United States, said:
"On the receipt of Oku's answer to the Correspondents we left the army.
Other correspondents would have quit then, as most of them did ten days
later, but that their work and Kuroki, so far from being fifty miles
north toward Mukden, as Okabe said he was, was twenty miles to the east
on our right preparing for the, closing-in movement which was just
about to begin. Three days after we had left the army, the greatest
battle since Sedan was waged for six days.
"So, our half-year of time and money, of dreary waiting, of daily
humiliations at the hands of officers with minds diseased by suspicion,
all of which would have been made up to us by the sight of this one
great spectacle, was to the end absolutely lost to us. Perhaps we made
a mistake in judgment. As the cards fell we certainly did.
"The only proposition before us was this: There was small chance of
any immediate fighting. If there were fighting we would not see it.
Confronted with the same conditions again, I would decide in exactly
the same manner. Our misfortune lay in the fact that our experience
with other armies had led us to believe that officers and gentlemen
speak the truth, that men with titles of nobility, and with the higher
titles of General and Major-General, do not lie. In that we were
mistaken."
Greatly disappointed at his failure to see really anything of the war,
much embittered at the Japanese over their treatment of the
correspondents, Richard reached Vancouver in October. As my father was
seriously ill he came to Philadelphia at once and divided the next two
months between our old home and Marion.
On December 14, 1904, my father died, and it was the first tragedy that
had come into Richard's life, as it was in that of my sister or myself.
As an editorial writer, most of my father's work had been anonymous,
but his influence had been as far-reaching as it had been ever for all
that was just and fine. All of his life he had worked unremittingly
for good causes and, in spite of the heavy burdens which of his own
will he had taken upon his none too strong shoulders, I have never met
with a nature so calm , so simple, so sympathetic with those who were
weak--weak in body or soul. As all newspaper men must, he had been
brought in constant contact with the worst elements of machine
politics, as indeed he had with the lowest strata of the life common to
any great city. But in his own life he was as unsophisticated; his
ideals of high living, his belief in the possibilities of good in all
men and in all women, remained as unruffled as if he had never left his
father's farm where he had spent his childhood. When my father died
Richard lost his "kindest and severest critic" as he also lost one of
his very closest friends and companions.
During the short illness that preceded my brother's death, although
quite unconscious that the end was so near, his thoughts constantly
turned back to the days of his home in Philadelphia, and he got out the
letters which as a boy and as a young man he had written to his family.
After reading a number of them he said: "I know now why we were such a
happy It was because we were always, all of us, of the same age."