Chapter XLV

CHILDREN AND THE WAR.

Children are the true hero-worshippers, and it is their nature to set up their high altar on the gory battlefield--the gorier the better. If you want to fathom the depth of “original sin” in the hearts of little cherubs who adorn the hearths of peace-loving citizens, you must become a General and win a great victory. Then your mail-bag will come with the seams burst, and the bulk of your letters will be in large, sprawling characters, that bespeak much travail of soul and inking of rosy fingers. You will have little worshippers and sweethearts in every land, and proud parents will discover their innocent babes setting forth in cold ink sentiments that might bring a blush to the cheek of Catherine of Russia and fill the breast of Torquemada with envy. And you will have to pay the penalty. A widow’s importunity is not greater than that of the child whose mission is to write letters to the famous soldier. You will have to employ a special staff of corresponding clerks; to keep a stock of signed photographs on hand, and to beg your friends to save all their old postage stamps, for the worshippers have albums and no scruples.

Lord Roberts, when in Bloemfontein, showed me some of his children’s correspondence. One letter I remember. It would have driven Dr. Watts to a new verse, for it embodied all the terrors of the Spanish Inquisition. This is how it ran:--“Dear Lord Roberts, I am glad you have caught Cronje. Mind you keep him fast, and don’t let him escape. Give him to eat everything he does not like, and then he will die. Yours affectionately. P.S.--Please send me your photograph and some stamps.”

I am reminded of this epistle from a Christian child--who, doubtless, goes to Sunday school, and could recite the Ten Commandments--by a letter addressed to General Kuroki’s Army from Harada Ishi, a twelve-year-old girl, who attends school at Yotsuya, in Japan. “One day I was taking a walk with my sister. Before the gate of a certain house stood a very little girl--very nice looking. She had with her a little dog, very pretty, and said to it:--‘Tama, when the war is over, my father will bring back a Russian’s head and give it to you. So you must be a good dog.’ When I looked up at the gate there was a plate with the name Lieut.-Colonel Katsuda.” Thus the daughter, not of Herodias, but of a gallant soldier in the Twentieth Century!

General Kuroki received many letters from juvenile admirers in all parts of the world. Most of them seem to think that he understands English and keeps an unlimited supply of photographs and foreign postage stamps. Like Lord Roberts, he insists on an answer to all these communications. Perhaps I ought not to have made known this weakness. Lest he should suffer from my indiscretion, let me hasten to add that the General is thinking of some automatic and mechanical device that will give him time to attend strictly to the business of war.

The teachers in Japan hit upon an ingenious plan for diverting the stream of missives into a wider channel. They invited their scholars to send letters and drawings to the soldiers at the front. With the aid of an interpreter, I have looked over a batch of this juvenile correspondence. Some of the drawings are excellent, and show originality as well as artistic ability. They might astonish a drill-sergeant and make an artilleryman forget to load his gun; but even then the Russians would have the worst of it, for in the pictures, as in the field, one Japanese is a match for three “Ruskies,” and a broom serves to empty Liao-yang and Port Arthur of the enemies of Nippon.

About the letters it would be as hard to generalise as it would be about the speeches of British members of Parliament when a General Election is approaching. One thing only is certain. The girls are better letter-writers than the boys, and a Japanese letter looks infinitely more artistic than the most finished Italian hand. Some of these epistles might be framed and hung upon the walls of our drawing-rooms at home, in order to show how the characters which Japan has inherited from China live and breathe, and have form. Their contents are as varied as children’s faces.

Here is a letter from a boy in the Higher Grade School at Aoyama. Sato Shoichiro evidently knows something of the origin of the War, for he writes:--

“Russia is one of the greatest Powers in Europe. Her dominion extends over one-sixth of the globe. She has an Army of nine hundred thousand men, and a Navy of fifty warships. Ten years ago, when we won the Liao-tung Peninsula from China, after great loss of brave men, Russia, backed by Germany and France, told us that the Japanese occupation of the Peninsula was harmful to the peace of the East. Therefore, we gave back the Peninsula to China. Then Russia got a lease of Liao-tung for ninety-nine years, entered Korea through Manchuria, and tried to press upon Japan. After many negotiations war broke out. Since hostilities began, Russia, one of the greatest Powers in Europe, has been beaten repeatedly by Japan--a small country of the East. Not a single victory have the Russians won on land or sea. Now Liao-yang has fallen, and Port Arthur is expected to fall soon.”

Tanaka Sumi is a girl, and does not trouble her little head about history, though she reads the newspapers. She is twelve years old, and full of enthusiasm. “‘Extra Special! Latest Edition!’ The cry of the newsvendor rings through the street. I always buy a ‘Special’ and show it to my parents. They read it, for it contains news of victory. Our soldiers are fighting, and endure all sorts of suffering and privation. What fortune for us at home to have been born in such an age! Port Arthur will soon fall. Then another ‘Extra Special!’ Such repeated victories and no defeats are unexampled in history. We thank you brave men of the Japanese Army and Navy.”

There is at least one little girl in Japan who wishes she was a boy. “I am sorry for the soldiers. We are much obliged to you. I, too, want to go to the front. But I cannot, for I am a girl. Please forgive me.” Chikako Makino is a little Martha of ten years:--“I want to send cakes and tobacco to those who have gone to the war for our country.” Another ten-year-old, Masako Asada, also a girl, as you may guess, writes:--“Thank you very much for fighting so bravely--fighting not only with the Russians, but with a bad climate and with bad insects. Thank you very much. Now it is getting cold. Please take care of yourselves.”

Uyemura Kei is a poet and a philosopher, though only eleven years old, and a girl. Her letter from Fujimi School is very pretty, and ought to be treasured by the lucky soldier to whom it is given. “There is a Japanese spirit, as there is an English and an American spirit. Each has its characteristics. The Japanese spirit is pure and noble. It is like unto the cherry blossom. The cherry blooms beautiful, and without a breath of regret is blown to the winds of heaven. So we live and so we die, counting as naught the life we give for our country. That is the secret of victory. Japan is small, but every Japanese has this spirit at his birth, and is ready to die for Emperor and Fatherland. Therefore, great Russia is beaten.”

Sasaki Shinki, of Koto School, is only ten years old, yet he has some of this spirit, and will one day fight for his country. “Japanese soldiers are ready to lay down their lives for loyalty. They have the Japanese spirit, and, therefore, win every battle. When we grow up we want to be soldiers and fight for Fatherland.” Little Miss Nagata, who is nine years old, doubtless, speaks the mind of many tiny mites in kimonos who had fathers and brothers at the war. “You are all very strong. So you always win victories. I am glad of it. I hope the war will soon be over and you will come home.” Kamoshita Kan, a seven-year-old boy of Bancho School, is a confident prophet, for he writes:--“You fight for Emperor and for us. You are victorious always. Very soon you will go to Harbin, and the Sun-flag will wave over that city. Then I will shout ‘Banzai!’ for the Emperor.” Yoshida Ryukichi, another seven-year-old boy of Mikawadai School, ought to make a good Special Correspondent under rigorous censorship:--“When Japanese advance, Russians flee. Some Russians are captured. The Czar is crying.”

Here is a letter from a sympathetic little miss, Nakagawa Tomiyo, first-year girl in the Lower Grade School at Awaji:--“Soldiers, give victory to Japan. I am glad. Soldiers, you must be tired. I sympathise with you.” Ten-year-old Yamaguchi Ume, of Okachimach, writes:--“Soldiers are working hard. Not much water to drink. Never complaining: ever striving: ever loyal to Emperor. Ah, how I admire them!” These children’s letters all breathe the spirit of patriotism, and it must be acknowledged that in the expression of that spirit the girls are more eloquent than the boys. Kobayashi Fumi, twelve years of age, who is at Bancho School, writes:--“In Manchuria the weather is foul, and the enemy are said to be quite brave. But by your patient labour and courage we win victories, for which we have to thank you heartily. We admire the glory of our Emperor and the brave deeds of our soldiers. Whenever we hear the cry, ‘Extra Special,’ we jump for joy, and at the same time pray for your safety. It is getting very cold. Please, honourable soldiers, take good care of yourselves and come back to Japan with honour and glory.” Kishimoto Toshio, though only twelve years old, is a thoughtful little fellow, and has a care for those who are stricken in battle. “The Red Cross Society has hospitals for the sick and wounded in the field. In Japan it originated with a so-called philanthropic association during the Civil War. It is proper to help soldiers without making any distinction between friend and foe. Both are brave men, fighting for their country.”

The thoughts of the children turn naturally to rejoicing, and there are many descriptions of popular festivities after the news of victory. I give one example, from Aoki Ume, who writes from Honmura School:--“I am a girl student of the Second Year Grade School. I am told by my teacher to write you a letter. When I was thinking what would interest you most, news came of the fall of Liao-yang. Then the citizens of Tokio assembled to celebrate the victory. Every street filled with flags and lanterns, and the night became as bright as day. The lights were reflected on the flags. It was very beautiful. We owe you much, for these nice scenes are the result of your victories. Banzai!”