Chapter XII: Contrasts and Comparisons

At Newchwang there were all the elements that tend to characterize the Russian military rule. It has been stated repeatedly that the Russians at Newchwang were guilty of barbarities, that they abominably ill-treated Japanese refugees, insulted the foreign lady residents, made themselves feared by their outrageous conduct, and required the constraint a European joint occupation of the port would impose. The facts do not support the irresponsible reports of those journalists to whom the conditions of Russian life were new. Foreign ladies were not habitually insulted by the Russians, nor were the residents, European or Chinese, ill-treated or outraged. The only cases I saw of wrongdoing were petty pilferings by Russian soldiers from Chinese pedlars, and common and unmitigated cruelty to animals.

The Russian officers and the Russian troops from the British standpoint of to-day were licentious, dissipated and immoral, as well as rough to occasional brutality. They drank freely, lived as well as their means permitted, and enjoyed themselves as far as circumstances allowed. When they left they took with them their women, their drink, their dirt, their noise--and the goodwill of the bulk of the foreign residents.

Judged by the standard of to-day they lack seriousness, refinement and education. They eat and drink too much and are coarse and sensual in their appetites. Compared with our British forefathers, even with those who fought in the Napoleonic wars, they are not so rude, nor is their life so bad as when it is contrasted with our armies of the present generation--and, as soldiers, they lack most ardour for their profession and the courage that comes from an intelligent conception of duty.

There came to Newchwang two naval officers whom I knew well. Each was typical of a class of officer common in the Russian navy, both had about the same rank in the service. Big Vassy was one of the tallest and heaviest men in the fleet, a gigantic child; boisterous, frank, liberal and careless of his reputation. He was an incorrigible shirker. Many times he was punished for neglect of duty, usually he managed to escape the penalty. He received ten days’ confinement to barracks and the first day he prevailed upon his guard to allow him to go into the town to get a bath, promising to return within three hours, but in a small place like Port Arthur the tenth day came before they found him. He would bully and cajole, and get his own way. He was so prolific with promises, and so entirely the jolly good fellow all round, who loved wine, woman and song too well, that his superior officers tolerated him, and looked aside when his shortcomings were before them. He had command of a ship, but had no more intention of risking his life in this war than had Admiral Alexeiev or the Tsar himself.

One night I was sitting in the Central Hotel, then the rendezvous of Russian officers, when big Vassy unexpectedly burst into the room; he did not stop to open the door, he just put his fist against the panel and sent the flimsy fastenings far and wide. He thrust his sword and revolver into my hands.

“Where is she? Where is Tatianne?”

“Tatianne who? Where have you sprung from? What is the matter with you?”

“Where is Tatianne? Tatianne Ivanovna, you know her? Where is she? Where is she? She came from Port Arthur five days ago, you have seen her, where is she?”

“Well, she isn’t here. Sit down. What will you have? Boy!”

“Nothing. Tell me, where is she?”

“She was staying with your friends, up at the other end of the settlement. I don’t know where she is now.”

“But you must. Take me to her! Come! Come quickly!” He dragged me to the door; resistance was useless.

“I’ll take you there in a minute. How did you get here?”

“Yes, take me. Come! Come quickly, come!”

“All right--all right! How did you get here?”

“By my feets! I walk from Tashichiao, thirty versts. I sent her a dispatch, a telegram. She has not had it. Come, come quickly! Is it far?”

“Ten minutes’ walk. How is Port Arthur getting along?”

“To blazes with Port Arthur! Where is she? Where is Tatianne? Are you sure she is there? She said she would go to China. Where is she? You know.”

We went out into the darkness, crushed through the thin frozen surface into the thick mud of the Bund, groped our way through dark alleys into the settlement, and at last on to the curbed footpath--there he ran on ahead of me.

“Come!”

“What about Port Arthur?”

“More bombardment--much, much noise, damage nothing. Is it far?”

“How long did the bombardment last?”

“Oh, where is she? Two days--the Novy Gorod is hit many times. Come!”

One could not go quickly enough for that impetuous man, taking giant strides, and holding to his rapid course by instinct. Little by little I dragged some information out of him.

“And _your_ ship, Vassy?”

“I have no ship. I go to Vladivostok to take command. If Tatianne will come I go to-morrow. If she will not, I go to China too!”

“Vassy!” I remonstrated.

He grunted. For a few seconds he strode on ahead rapidly, then he groaned and turned to me suddenly. “What a fool a woman can make of a man!” Then he laughed, a short, nervous little laugh, and again walked on even more quickly than before. A rudimentary truth had been absorbed by his primitive brain. We reached the door. Tatianne was there. That was the last I saw of her and of Vassy. Both went straightway to Vladivostok on the morrow.

Big Vassy had his qualities, but they were not such as fitted him for any navy. If Russia had a house of peers, Vassy and his like would find there a fitting apotheosis.

But the Russian navy has also Boris Kouzmin-Korovaiev. Boris is a true Slav; he is strong as a lion, lithe as a cat, tenacious as a bull-terrier, and brave as a Jap. Boris would not last long as the superintendent of a nonconformist Sunday School. He is not a short sport, in fact he drinks like a fish, or a Pole. For long days together Boris will be intoxicated, but not incompetent. He has brains and can use them. All he needs is opportunity. He had an occasion at Port Arthur, and was mentioned in the Viceroy’s dispatches. You cannot quarrel with Boris; act squarely and Boris will never quarrel with you--he is Russian, too. And, of men like Boris the Russian navy has many, but not enough. It has also brave commanders like Captain Essen of the _Novik_, Viren of the _Diana_, and Zalyesski of the _Askold_. In Newchwang we had the men who, on the _Lieutenant Barukhov_, ran the blockade out of Port Arthur, and returned there without a hurt.

After the Japanese had occupied Newchwang, they searched for a number of Chinese, who had acted as interpreters for the Russians, and in other ways assisted them. These interpreters, who had been left behind by the Russians when they evacuated, hid in Yingkow, and went about in fear of their lives. Some escaped by train. One day at Kaopantze one of the men was recognized by some one on the station. The Hunghuses, under their Japanese leader, promptly seized the man, dragged him off the train, out of the station, placed him against a wall and shot him. The next day another interpreter was on the train; he, too, was found and seized, but the seizure was noticed by one of the inspectors, who interfered--the man had his ticket, and could travel on unless the police seized him. The Hunghus leader demurred, and produced a revolver, which the inspector promptly gripped and at the same time called in Chinese to the sergeant of the twenty soldiers marshalled on the platform to bring his men up to assist him. The man gave the order, but they marched straight away from, instead of towards, the scene of the struggle, and the non-commissioned officer promptly followed them himself. But neither the Hunghuses, nor their Japanese leader, dared attack the Briton: the train was started, and the life of the interpreter was saved. A few days later a Japanese officer went from Yingkow to interview the leader of the gang, and after his visit they made no further trouble.

It must not be supposed that with war between Japan and Russia in progress the soldiers of the two Powers keep the peace when they are thrown together, as in the legation guards at Peking. There is a great deal of animosity, and it is frequently shown by the men; ordinarily their officers agree as to hours of leave, and the two are kept apart. The Japanese also show animus against the French and Germans, and when they can resent the overbearing manner of these European troops they do so. In July some French soldiers caused some disturbance in the Japanese town at Shanhaikwan. This gave the Japanese gendarme an opportunity. In the fight which ensued he was wounded, but three of the French soldiers were killed, and others were badly injured.

In neutral territory we were, of course, hearing constantly from eye-witnesses of the course of the war at Port Arthur, and of the progress made by the Japanese army. With reference to the besieged in the great fortress the news was always dispiriting; now it was Sidorski who had been killed by a shell; then little Victor had lost his life at the Yalu; Mamontoy was wounded--thus were we reminded of the actuality of war. And the Japanese would tell of the progress being made with their mines; of the slowness with which they were driving parallels up to the Russian positions; of their wish that all women, children and civilians would leave the town, and of their intention to treat all found there as combatants when the great assault took place.

There can be no doubt that this will be so. For months past every civilian in the fortress has been compelled to take his turn in the trenches; every man able to bear arms has borne them, with the possible exception of the Red Cross surgeons.

The Japanese were not nearly so communicative as the Russians, and could not be surprised into making admissions. I said to a Russian naval officer once:

“Captain, why are you putting out mines on the high seas?”

“We are not putting out mines on the high seas; we put them only twenty-five miles from the coast, except perhaps at Kerr Bay they extend farther. Who says we put them on the high seas?”

But the Japanese will talk, if you will do something for them. There was one, a man of modern ideas, who did not see the usefulness, from the military point of view, of the soldier sacrificing his life rather than turning back, and even seeking death in battle as the greatest good. He wished me to write an article in a local paper, which he would have translated and quoted in all Japanese papers, showing that sometimes it was wiser to surrender, and thereby incommode the enemy, than to die. The article appeared; it had the usual references to Dai Nippon, and all about Yamato Domashi in its most idealistic and refined aspects. It satisfied him in every particular but one. I wrote that it might be wiser to surrender or flee than to die; that could not be so; it was so glorious to die for one’s country! The very man who appreciated the logic of the argument was unable to overcome the sentiment which animates the Japanese soldier.

The Japanese informed me in August, after the battle of Tashichiao, that in no circumstances would they press on beyond Liaoyang this campaign unless the Russians fell back to Harbin--even then their forces were to remain south of Mukden until next spring, when the great campaign will begin--and finish.

The Japanese have adopted not only many Western methods but Western ideals. They have not the Chinaman’s power to influence men of the Caucasian race. The Japanese, notwithstanding their Western ways, are not of us, and never will be. They are fighting for a cause we know and feel to be right; they will talk by the hour of sources of food supply they have had taken from them, of the market closed to them, and prove that they are fighting for existence--before the injuries Russia has caused them weaken them so much that they could not fight with any chance of success. They are fighting in the Western manner generally, that Western people may judge them by Western standards. But there are occasions when the difference is shown, when Japanese disregard of death hurls them as it were impulsively to attack where attack means certain death, absolute annihilation. With their weapons ready in their hands they follow unhesitatingly the little Sun-flags--follow in silence, so impassively they seem scarcely to be human beings but creatures obeying some primitive instinct--they go to their death by fire, unreasoning, unthinking, as migrating lemmings go without swerving into the ocean which drowns all.

Ordinarily they are rational to a fault. They have reasoned out everything, have made ready for every eventuality. A crushing defeat at any one point would cause them to change the plan of campaign, not to abandon the war, and their organization is such that a complete change of front could be accomplished without the least disorder, alarm, or loss. They have still as many soldiers waiting to come to Manchuria as they have already brought there; money they will raise at need. They issued notes not having currency of the country, the notes are convertible into cash at the Japanese banks. The war will be paid for largely by the goods now being manufactured by Japanese, all working overtime, and these goods will be sold in the markets of four continents. For Japan alone benefited by the great commercial congress at Philadelphia; its Government took up the idea of the Commercial Museum and having a perfect organization worked it profitably, thus gaining a share of the world’s commerce. There is no flaw anywhere. The Japanese troops may not pursue fleeing Russians so quickly that the enemy are kept on the run. That might mean a risk, moreover, after days of continuous fighting to win a position, is it not enough for the moment to have it, then prepare for winning the next? When all is ready, the attack will be made, and the position won. There is nothing left to chance. Major-General Fukushima, the strategist of the campaign and director of General Oku’s movements, is a stolid, plodding, indefatigable student of Moltke’s _Art of War_, and military text books. He will not depart from the rule, he will win the prize working according to the rules of the game. In appearance and bearing he suggests a fourth form boy who is the school prodigy and is conscious of his position.

The Japanese Army has its inconsistencies; for instance, officers will cover even their sword-scabbards with khaki lest the sun glint should betray them, but all the scouts I saw wore breeches of cardinal red with a broad stripe of yellow or green in which they were as glaringly conspicuous as if they had been in the uniform of our own 11th Hussars.

The Japanese have a just cause; they fight bravely: their organization is nearly perfect; their reforms are thorough and excellent--one cannot but admire them; they deserve to win, and they will win, and the world will be the better for their victory. It is because of this we wish them to win. In spite of their race and their paganism, and though their civilization may be but a thin veneer, we require them to win because they are fighting in the cause of freedom, fighting for the rights of man irrespective of creed or colour, fighting for western ideals of justice, fighting for the good of humanity.

We are more in sympathy with the Russians because they are nearer kin. They have their faults, but in spite of their faults, or perhaps because of their weaknesses, we love them, man for man, even more than we admire their opponents. The Japanese are bravest of the brave; an officer will rush in and kill sixteen of the enemy with his sword. All fight like classic heroes, but they still sit down on their shins, and we wonder what sort of men they are after all. The Russians we understand. We admire General Stoessel not a whit the less when we know, that with all his bravery and bluster, he is married to a homely sharp-tongued little _hausfraü_ whom he must obey implicitly--were she a veritable shrew the man would still have our esteem. “Go home--Port Arthur is no place for women!” commands the General. “A wife’s place is by her husband--Tollya, I shall stay!” says the commandant’s wife.

Then there is H.E. the Viceroy, Admiral Alexeiev, raised to a dizzy height of power and living up to his position. For him no more hilarious nights, wild gambles, boisterous exploits; no more storming and raving on the quarter decks of ships where work has been left undone, but a monotonous round of high society functions and wearisome entertainments, broken by an occasional holiday in an obscure treaty port of China. Admiral Alexeiev made the common mistake of supposing dignity to be a virtue, whereas it is only a grace. The Japanese official promoted to higher rank knows that the post will need a greater expenditure of energy, and he does what is required and expected of him. The Russian may be an inveterate liar, a drunkard leading a dissolute life, may know that he is the slave of besetting sins, but never forgets that he is a man. He will not pay to virtue the tribute of hypocrisy she extorts from vice. He is an open and only a superficial sinner, appraising himself higher than do those who observe him, surrounding himself with temptations and indulging unashamed. The Japanese will run no risks, that drink shop may cause harm--it is straightway closed. Those people may tempt heroes from the business of war to the pleasures of peace--they are sent beyond the military lines. The Japanese are pagans who have adopted the ethical code of the West; there is nothing in their conduct to which the most strait-laced puritan could take exception; missionaries bow to them, for even missionaries do not need to shut their eyes to the behaviour of these conquerors. They are as correct as the rule of three, and have its limitations.

Some Russian officials, with tears in their eyes, asked me why it was the British hated them so intensely. There, in Newchwang, they had done everything they could think of to appease the English residents. They gave them business, the Government spent money freely, they themselves entertained lavishly; they offered always the hand of friendship, but it was not clasped. And Newchwang was but typical of other ports, everywhere it was the same, what more could Russians do?

The difference is just this: in the game of life Russia disregards all the rules Western civilization has decreed to be right. In politics, in commerce, in law, in the big things and the little things of life Russia is a law to herself. The Japanese, on the contrary, have accepted the Western standard of ethics, and in their international relations attempt to conform to Western conventions.

An English lady, who spoke Russian, had occasion to visit the station, and on her way asked for a lift in one of the army waggons going from Newchwang to Russia-town. The favour was immediately granted. When she was seated the driver gazed at her earnestly, and asked what she might be. She answered that she was English. “Ah, I knew you were not of us, you are so clean.” She smiled. The soldier continued, with a jerk backward of his head towards the settlement, “It is funny what a lot of clean people one sees there--never saw so many in my life!” Then, somewhat regretfully. “We have not the means to be clean, lady!” The Russians, unfortunately for them, have not the means to be many other things we count good. The soldiers, before the campaign was three months old, were in tatters. I remember one; he wore purple (half tanned) high boots, regulation breeches, a shirt or tunic made out of an old gunny sack, a straw sailor hat without a ribbon, and the broken brim drooping to his ear; he had a bayonet without a scabbard and a rifle with a thong of rawhide for a sling. I saw him fall to attention and present arms as the Grand Duke Boris went along the Bund at Newchwang. An unkempt, dirty, uncared for unit in the army; a thing too common to call for comment or to receive consideration.