“This diagram shows clearly where the principal energies of the Ministry of War should hereafter be concentrated, and in what direction in future Russia’s main powers and resources should be turned. The interests that lie at the foundation of our position as a nation are: (1) The defence of the territorial integrity of the Empire against the Powers of the Triple Alliance; and (2) the employment of the forces of all our military districts for the preservation of internal peace and order. In comparison with these tasks all the others have secondary importance. The diagram shows, furthermore, that our interests in the Pri-Amur region must be regarded as more important than our interests in Manchuria, and that the latter must take precedence of our interests in Korea. I am afraid, however, that, for a time at least, our national activity will be based on affairs in the Far East, and, if so, the pyramid will then be turned bottom upwards, and made to stand on its narrow Korean top. But such a structure on such a foundation will fall. Columbus solved the problem of making an egg stand on its end by breaking the egg. Must we, in order to make our pyramid stand on its narrow Korean end, break the Russian Empire?”
Upon my return from Japan I showed the above diagram to M. de Witte, who agreed that it was correct. Notwithstanding the disastrous conclusion to the recent war, we did not adopt Columbus’s method. Russia is not yet broken; but undoubtedly, now that the war is over, the above diagram must be considerably altered.
The establishment of the Viceroyalty in the Far East was for me a complete surprise. On August 15, 1903, I asked the Emperor to relieve me of my duty as Minister of War, and after the great manœuvres I was granted long leave of absence, of which I availed myself, expecting that my place would be filled by the appointment of some other person. In September, 1903, the state of affairs in the Far East began to be alarming, and Admiral Alexeieff was definitely ordered to take all necessary measures to avoid war. The Emperor expressed his wish to this effect with firmness, and did not, in any way, limit or restrict the concessions that should be made in order to avoid a rupture with Japan. All that had to be done was to find a method of making these concessions as little injurious as possible to Russian interests. During my stay in Japan, I became satisfied that the Japanese Government was disposed to consider Japanese and Korean affairs calmly, with a view to arriving at an agreement upon the basis of mutual concessions. The Emperor’s definitely expressed desire that war should not be allowed to take place had, for a short time, a tranquillizing effect on Far Eastern affairs. In view of the disturbing situation in the Far East, I cut short my leave of absence, and, in reporting to the Emperor for duty, I gave this threatening state of affairs as my reason for returning. On October 23, 1903, the Emperor made the following marginal note upon my letter: “The alarm in the Far East is apparently beginning to subside.” In October I recommended that the garrison at Vladivostok should be strengthened, but permission to reinforce it was not given. Meanwhile there was really no re-establishment of tranquillity in the Far East, and our relations with Japan and China were becoming more and more involved. On October 28, 1903, I presented to the Emperor a special report on the Manchurian question, in which I showed that, in order to avoid complications with China and a rupture with Japan, we must put an end to our military occupation of Southern Manchuria, and confine our activity and our administrative supervision to the northern part of that territory.
At the time when this report was presented, and later—in November—the negotiations that Admiral Alexeieff was carrying on with Japan not only made no progress, but became more critical, the Admiral still believing that to show a yielding disposition would only make matters worse.
Bearing in mind the clearly expressed will of the Emperor that all necessary measures should be taken to avoid war, and not expecting favourable results from Alexeieff’s negotiations, I submitted to His Majesty, on December 6, 1903, a second memorandum on the Manchurian question, in which I proposed that we should restore Port Arthur and the province of Kuan-tung to China, and sell the southern branch of the Eastern Chinese Railway, securing, in lieu thereof, certain special rights in the northern part of Manchuria. In substance, this proposition was that we should admit the untimeliness of our attempt to get an outlet on the Pacific, and abandon it altogether. The sacrifice might seem a heavy one to make, but I showed the necessity for it by emphasizing two important considerations. In the first place, by surrendering Port Arthur (which had been taken away from the Japanese), and by giving up Southern Manchuria (with the Ya-lu enterprise), we should escape the danger of a rupture with Japan and China; in the second place, we should avoid the possibility of internal disturbances in European Russia. A war with Japan would be extremely unpopular, and would increase the feeling of dissatisfaction with the ruling authorities.
At the end of this memorandum occurred the following passage:
“The economic interests of Russia in the Far East are negligible. We have as yet, thank God, no overproduction in manufactures, because our domestic markets are not yet glutted. There may be some export of articles from our factories and foundries, but it is largely bounty-fed, and will cease—or nearly cease—when such artificial encouragement is withheld. Russia, therefore, has not yet arrived at the pitiable necessity of waging war in order to obtain markets for her products. As for our other interests in that quarter, the success or failure of a few coal or timber enterprises in Manchuria and Korea is not a matter of sufficient importance to justify the risk of war. The railway-lines built through Manchuria cannot change the situation quickly, and the hope that these lines will have world-wide importance as arteries of international commerce is not likely to be soon realized. Travellers, mails, tea and possibly some other merchandise will go over them, but the great masses of heavy international freight, which alone can give such importance to a railway, must still go by sea, on account of the heavy railway rates. Such is not the case, however, with local freight to supply local needs. This the railroad—and especially the southern branch—will carry in increasing amount, thus deriving most of its revenue, and, at the same time, stimulating the growth of the country, and, in Southern Manchuria particularly, benefiting the Chinese population. But if we do not take special measures to direct even local freight to Dalny, that port is likely to suffer from the competition of Newchuang. Port Arthur has no value for Russia as the defence and terminus of a railway, unless that railway is part of an international transit route. The southern branch of the Eastern Chinese road has commercially only—or chiefly—local importance, and Russia does not need to protect it by means so costly as the fortifications of Port Arthur, a fleet of warships, and a garrison of 30,000 men. It thus appears that the retention of a forward position in Kuan-tung is no more supported by economic than it is by political and military considerations. What, then, are the interests that may involve us in war with Japan and China? Are such interests important enough to justify the great sacrifices that war will demand?
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“The Russian people are powerful, and their faith in Divine Providence, as well as their devotion to their Tsar and country, is unshaken. We may trust, therefore, that if Russia is destined to undergo the trial of war at the beginning of the twentieth century, she will come out of it with victory and glory. But she will have to make terrible sacrifices—sacrifices that may long retard the natural growth of the Empire. In the wars that we waged in the early years of the seventeenth, eighteenth, and nineteenth centuries, the enemy invaded our territory, and we fought for our very existence—marched forth in defence of our country and died for faith, Tsar, and Fatherland. If, in the early years of the twentieth century, war breaks out as the result of Far Eastern complications, the Russian people and the Russian army will execute the will of their monarch with as much devotion and self-sacrifice as ever, and will give up their lives and property for the sake of attaining complete victory; but they will have no intelligent comprehension of the objects for which the war is waged. For that reason there will be no such exaltation of spirit, no such outburst of patriotism, as that which accompanied the wars that we fought either in self-defence or for objects dear to the hearts of the people.