by Donald Keene
The French foreign minister, hoping to shake the czar’s resolve to fight the war to the bitter end, sent him a letter saying, “Every day the war continues makes it more difficult for Your Majesty’s Government to secure a peace which it can regard as acceptable.”36
On March 17 the Russian squadron finally left Madagascar, heading northeast for the western extremity of Sumatra. This was the worst possible route because the fleet would be in full view of the British in Malaya, and the Japanese would therefore be able to follow the approach of the Russian squadron hour by hour. But the Russians still maintained their unbelievable confidence in the Baltic Fleet. No one doubted that with a great naval victory, Russia could still deprive Japan of control of the sea, after which the Russian armies would take a brilliant revenge.37
On April 14 the Russian squadron anchored off the coast of Annam in French Indochina, 200 miles north of Saigon. The French wanted nothing more than for the Russians to leave, but there was little they could do to persuade them, and the squadron’s prolonged stay raised a storm of anti-French demonstrations in Japan. At this point the Germans, who had played a mischievous part in the war, now encouraging the Russians to save Christianity, now inciting the Japanese, suddenly informed the French that they would not hesitate to go to war if they saw no other means of safeguarding German rights and interests in Morocco. The French chief of staff exclaimed, “A sudden attack by Germany! We couldn’t resist it! It would be worse than 1870! Our defeat would be even more rapid and complete! Just think a minute—in the first place, not a vestige of help from Russia! What should we have with which to meet the 1,500,000 men of the German Army? 900,000 at the outside—of which 100,000, possibly 200,000, would refuse to take the field.”38 France was in no position to help its Russian ally.
The Russian squadron entered Japanese waters on May 26, 1905. The Japanese fleet, commanded by Admiral Tōgō, blocked its path, and in one of the decisive naval engagements of history, Tōgō’s fleet annihilated the Russians. On May 29 the French learned that “the 2nd Squadron of the Pacific Ocean” had ceased to exist. Paléologue predicted that the naval battle off the island of Tsushima would mark the end of Russian domination in Asia.
On June 16 Paléologue reported, “Something new and unexpected has happened—something which seems to presage important developments in world politics. For the first time in history, the United States of America is intervening in European affairs. Hitherto it has regarded a studied aloofness from the problems of the old continent, ‘European entanglements,’ as a national dogma.”39 Now, at the request of the German kaiser, President Roosevelt was considering how to compose the grave difference that had arisen between France and Germany over the Moroccan question.
On June 20 Paléologue wrote, “President Roosevelt, who decidedly appears to be setting up as universal arbiter, has just offered Russia and Japan his good offices to put an end to hostilities.”40 Meanwhile in Russia, a revolutionary storm was raging from the Baltic provinces to the plains of the Volga. “Repression is frequently impossible,” Paléologue noted, “as the troops refuse to intervene.”
Count Sergei Witte stated in his memoirs that after the crushing defeat of the Russian navy at Tsushima, everyone, even the czar, recognized that peace must be negotiated. The Japanese, too, although they had won memorable victories on land at Port Arthur and Mukden and on the sea at Tsushima, were exhausted by the human and financial cost of the war. When they heard that President Roosevelt had offered to mediate peace talks between Russia and Japan, Count Lamsdorf, the foreign minister, reacted favorably. He recommended that the czar appoint Witte as the chief plenipotentiary in the peace negotiations, but the czar did not respond, no doubt because of his reluctance to recognize that everything Witte had predicted about the consequences of following the war party had come true.41
Meiji’s name, unlike the czar’s, hardly appears in accounts of the war or the peace negotiations. During the war years, he of course performed his usual duties—receiving reports from his ministers, granting audiences to important foreign visitors, and so on. But unlike during the Sino-Japanese War, when he moved to Hiroshima in order to be closer to the troops and spent dreary months waiting for victory, during this war he gave little overt sign of involvement. However, the chamberlain Hinonishi Sukehiro recalled that the emperor did not allow any heating in his rooms, and apart from the time he spent eating and sleeping, he was at his desk the entire day. Hinonishi said that the event that worried the emperor most was the siege of Port Arthur. According to the emperor, “I am sure that Port Arthur will fall, sooner or later, but it’s terrible killing soldiers that way. Nogi’s a good general, but the way he kills soldiers is really upsetting.”42
Little has been recorded concerning the emperor’s private life at this time, but a letter of the British minister to Japan, Sir Claude MacDonald, gives us a welcome, though momentary, glimpse:
I sat opposite to the Emperor at the lunch given to Admiral Noël and the officers of our Fleet. Besides plying a very healthy knife and fork, His Majesty chatted most amicably with everybody all around. The Imperial Princes, Arisugawa and Kanin who sat on either side, treated him with marked deference, but Marquis Ito and Count Inoue (the latter sat next to me) seemed to speak on absolute terms of equality and cracked jokes which made this direct descendant of the Sun roar with laughter. It was a great revelation to me and one which pleased me very much for, though a Mikado, he seems very human.43
If the emperor, like the Russian czar, had insisted on appointing his commanding generals and admirals himself or, because of some personal quarrel, had refused to appoint the most suitable man to represent Japan at the peace negotiations, he could probably have had his way, however much this harmed Japan. Fortunately, this did not occur. Perhaps that is one reason that Baron Rosen said of the emperor in his memoirs that his “name will go down in history as that of one of the greatest sovereigns the world has ever known.”44
Chapter 55
The destruction of the Russian fleet off Tsushima on May 27–28, 1905, caused “a shadow of gloom and consternation” to spread over all Russia. The kaiser, who not so long before had incited the czar to fight Japan, now congratulated the Japanese minister to Germany on Japan’s great success and declared that the naval battle was the most important since the victory of the British fleet over the French and Spanish fleets at Trafalgar in 1805, exactly 100 years earlier. Kaneko Kentarō, who was in New York when the news arrived, sent a note to President Roosevelt declaring that the battle was “the greatest naval victory of the world’s history.”1 Roosevelt agreed. He replied to Kaneko, “This is the greatest phenomenon the world has ever seen. Even the battle of Trafalgar could not match this. I could not believe it myself, when the first report reached me. As the second and third reports came, however, I grew so excited that I myself became almost like a Japanese, and I could not attend to official duties.”2
The defeat forced the czar to reconsider his determination to continue the war. The “war party,” which had long dominated high-level discussions, was losing ground, and even before the czar indicated a willingness to open peace negotiations, those Russian leaders who hoped for peace began to think of President Roosevelt as the best mediator.
The Japanese had also decided to ask Roosevelt to initiate peace talks. On January 7 and 8 (immediately after the Japanese captured Port Arthur) Kaneko visited Roosevelt in the White House to discuss the possibility of a peace conference and Japanese plans once the war had ended. Roosevelt expressed his conviction that Japan was entitled to take possession of Port Arthur and to incorporate Korea within its sphere of influence, but he believed that Manchuria should be returned to China and neutralized under guarantees from the Western powers. Although Roosevelt was firm in the view “that we cannot permit Japan to be robbed a second time of the fruits of victory,”3 he emphasized that Japan must agree to maintain the Open Door in Manchuria, a matter of great concern to America because it directly related to trade. On being
informed by Takahira Kogorō, the Japanese minister to the United States, that Roosevelt expected and desired a Japanese victory in the war, Komura Jutarō, the foreign minister, decided to reveal openly to Roosevelt Japan’s intentions and hopes concerning Manchuria, Korea, and Port Arthur, and they proved to be more or less the same as Roosevelt’s.4
During the next months, various attempts were made, especially by the French, to bring Japan and Russia together at a peace conference. The Japanese were suspicious of France, the ally of Russia, and they were also reluctant to promise before a conference that they would not seek an indemnity or Russian territory. They obviously preferred that Roosevelt, rather than the French, call the peace conference. Komura was at pains to assure him that Japan fully adhered to the position of maintaining the Open Door in Manchuria and of restoring that province to China.5
The battle for Mukden in Manchuria was the largest that had taken place in modern history. It ended on March 10 with a Japanese victory, but by the time the Russians fled to the north, the Japanese were too exhausted to pursue them effectively. The Japanese had won a major battle, but the Russians were by no means on their knees. Even at the peace conference, the Russians contended that they had lost some battles but not the war. Indeed, the need for peace was probably felt more keenly by the Japanese than the Russians. On March 8 while the battle still raged at Mukden, the army minister, Terauchi Masatake, informally approached the American minister, Lloyd Griscom, and asked him to inform President Roosevelt that the time had come for the war to cease.6
In the end, nothing came of Terauchi’s initiative because Komura insisted that the czar take the first step toward peace. But Komura’s attitude also changed before long. On April 25 Minister Griscom wrote to Washington that the Foreign Ministry “was anxious to effect the peace through Roosevelt, and that it was really anxious for peace.”
Sentiment in America was overwhelmingly pro-Japanese. Meiji seems to have been aware of this. On January 24 he sent for Griscom to express his thanks for the warm reception Prince Sadanaru had received during his recent visit to the United States. Of course, it was normal for thanks to be expressed for hospitality given to members of the imperial family when they traveled abroad, and sometimes decorations were bestowed, but on this occasion the emperor’s language seems to convey genuine feeling: “When I think of the profound goodwill that your country has always displayed toward our country, I am overcome with joy. I congratulate His Excellency, the president, on his good health, and pray for the prosperity of his country. At the same time, I hope that in the future the friendship between our two countries will grow ever closer.”7
During the Russo-Japanese War, the emperor never felt impelled to offer advice on the conduct of the war, and he rarely revealed his emotions, even when told of Japanese victories. As soon as he learned of the fall of Port Arthur, the vice chief of the general staff, Nagaoka Gaishi, rushed to the palace to inform the emperor. The emperor was just leaving his study to perform morning worship, but when he was informed that Nagaoka had requested an audience, he returned to the study. Nagaoka, too overcome by joy even to wait for the emperor to be seated, declared that serving as the messenger of glorious news was the greatest blessing of his life. Having blurted out these words, he started to make his report. He looked up at the emperor’s face. It was calm and self-possessed, exactly as it always was, not revealing a trace of emotion. During the fifteen or sixteen minutes while Nagaoka described the victory, the emperor nodded almost imperceptibly a few times. When Nagaoka completed his report, the emperor proceeded to the altar, as he had planned before the interruption.
Nagaoka was deeply disappointed. He was aware that the emperor’s temperament only rarely permitted him to reveal any emotion—whether joy or anger—in his expression, but the event he reported was so extraordinary that he expected the emperor to look pleased or at least seem relieved. The siege of Port Arthur had cost the lives of many Japanese soldiers, and there had been scenes of appalling carnage during three all-out attacks against the Russian defenders. The whole nation had impatiently waited for months for the news received this day. The victory not only was of key importance to the future conduct of the war but would exert an enormous influence over national policy. Yet the emperor had not shown the slightest change of expression. Nagaoka, embarrassed by his unrestrained excitement, felt the sweat down his back as he left the emperor’s presence.8
The emperor may have seemed unmoved because he had already received word of the victory at Port Arthur. That same day, Yamagata Aritomo had telephoned the chief chamberlain describing the victory. But when the chamberlain conveyed the news to the emperor, his first reaction was not an exclamation of joy but of admiration for General Stoessel’s unwavering loyalty to his country. He ordered Yamagata to make sure that Stoessel was allowed to maintain his dignity as a soldier. Yamagata transmitted the order to General Nogi Maresuke who communicated it to all members of his command. Perhaps the emperor, aware of the display of Japanese brutality at the time of the capture of Port Arthur from the Chinese ten years earlier, feared a recurrence.
Even though the emperor’s joy over the victory was not disclosed to those around him, it was found in this tanka:
atarashiki How happy I was
toshi no tayori ni To hear at the beginning
ada no shiro Of the year the news
hirakinikeri to That the enemy’s fortress
kiku zo ureshiki. Had fallen to our soldiers.9
The emperor had composed war songs in the past, but his poems during the Russo-Japanese War were seldom warlike. Before the first poetry gathering of the year on January 19, 1905, the chief of the poetry bureau, Takasaki Masakaze, had proposed two topics: “The Whole People Rejoice” and “Rejoicing on the Way.” The emperor rejected both, presumably because they related too closely to the war. The topic he finally chose was the innocuous “Mountains at New Year.” Meiji’s poem was
Fuji no ne ni The sky at the start
niou asahi mo Of the new year is so calm
kasumu made That the morning sun
toshi tatsu sora no Glowing over Mount Fuji
nodoka naru kana Seems hazy.10
The emperor’s lack of excitement, even after Japan had won a great victory at Port Arthur, may have reflected his caution: Was it fitting to celebrate while a powerful enemy still retained its military capability? Was it fitting to celebrate when so many Japanese soldiers had lost their lives in the effort to take Port Arthur?
If reluctant to show unseemly joy, the emperor did not hesitate to voice concern over the hardships endured by Japanese troops in the bitter cold of North China:
himugashi no Even the sky over
miyako no sora mo The Eastern Capital
haru samushi Is chilly this spring
saekaeruran How bitterly cold must be
hoku Shina no yama The mountains of North China.11
When the emperor learned of the Japanese army’s great victory at Mukden, he issued this rescript to the Manchurian army:
Mukden was the place where the enemy, having constructed strong defense fortifications and manned them with imposing numbers of soldiers ever since last autumn, intended to test which side was the stronger, in the expectation of certain victory. Our Manchurian army, taking the initiative, plunged ahead and, for more than ten days and nights battled valiantly amid numbing cold, snow, and ice, until it at last crushed the stubborn resolve of the enemy to defend the city to the death. The army has taken more than 10,000 prisoners, dealt great destruction, and driven the enemy in the direction of T’ieh-ling. By its unprecedented great victory, it has displayed at home and abroad the authority and might of the empire. We have rejoiced to learn of the untiring patience and tremendous efforts you officers and men have offered, and we urge you to perform even greater deeds.12
This message expressed the emperor’s appreciation of the army’s heroic struggle to take Mukden, but if we imagine the bombast that would have accompanied a proclama
tion by the German kaiser or Russian czar after a similar victory, we cannot fail to be struck by Meiji’s restraint. We wonder, too, how the emperor would have expressed disappointment if the Japanese army had been defeated.
We know how the czar reacted to the Russian defeat. At a meeting with Minister Takahira, President Roosevelt said that although many Russians had recognized the magnitude of the defeat at Mukden and a majority of the czar’s advisers leaned toward seeking peace, the czar insisted on continuing the war. Despite the series of defeats Russia had suffered during the past year, it seems not to have occurred to the czar to end the war in order to spare the lives of his soldiers. Roosevelt confessed that he could not understand what the czar might be thinking but judged it unlikely he would make the first move for peace. Roosevelt thought it might be a good idea for Japan to find some way to convey to the powers its desire for peace negotiations and, if possible, to state its conditions.13 After the great victory at Mukden, no one would suppose that the Japanese were acting out of weakness.
Not long afterward, Kaneko Kentarō in Washington sent a telegram to Tōkyō stating that he had been invited to the White House by President Roosevelt. The president said his sympathies were entirely with Japan because Japan was fighting for civilization. His greatest worry was how he might best help Japan by persuading Russia to enter peace negotiations.14
The extraordinary victory of the Japanese fleet in the great naval battle fought on May 27–28 prompted Meiji for the first time to issue a rescript that openly revealed his pleasure:
The joint fleet met the enemy fleet in the straits of Korea and, after several days of fierce fighting, completely annihilated it to achieve an unprecedented success. We rejoice that, thanks to your unswerving loyalty, We are able to report this to the divine spirits of Our ancestors. The road ahead is still long. May you devote ever greater efforts to the war and in this way bring to completion your military achievements.15