Chapter III: Life at Port Arthur

As every one knows, Port Arthur was named after H.R.H. the Duke of Connaught. It consists of a small land-locked harbour, surrounded by hills, and runs north and south, at the extremity of the Kwan-tung Peninsula. It is entered from the east, between Golden Hill on the north and Weiyuen Hill tapering to the sandspit on which is the Tiger’s Tail fort to the south. Directly opposite the entrance is Signal Hill, formerly known as Quail Hill, a comparatively low bluff which divides the new from the old towns. On entering the harbour, to the right are, first, the Admiralty depôts, dock-basin, and dockyard, sheltered from the sea front east by the lofty Golden Hill and loftier Huang-chin, with the heaviest batteries of the fortress; next, the Bund, or water-front, and the commercial quarter; beyond, the old administrative quarter adjoins Signal Hill. On the left is the Tiger’s Tail, behind which are coal stores, and moorings for the torpedo-boat flotilla. The deep water of the harbour is between Signal Hill and the Tiger’s Tail, extending but a short distance to the south, the great sheet of water in that direction being little more than a mud flat, which in winter is covered with ice, and once had an outlet to the sea between Ching-tan Fort and Liaotishan--an egress long since silted up with the débris carried down from the hills by the mountain torrents during the spring floods.

The New Town is situated south of Signal Hill, on a plateau rising to the south and west. A magnificent city had been planned, a town on a grand scale, with long avenues, broad streets and fine vistas. A lofty and commodious Administration building had been erected, the Viceroy’s Palace was building; there was a colossal hotel--finished but never opened--a restaurant, hotel, theatre, various places of public entertainment, some naval and military barracks, many villas, and at least one large retail store. Not one-fifth of this town had been constructed when the war began; hundreds of buildings were being erected.

The Old Town lies behind the Bund, also on rising ground, on the north of which was a great quarry, and north of that the old Chinese town, the Chinese citadel, the market and the parade ground. On the east side of this hill, behind the Admiralty docks, were the old cathedral and the Viceroy’s Lodge; farther to the north-east lies the large freshwater lake, the overflow from which runs through the Admiralty docks into the harbour. On the west side of this hill there is another stream, and the commercial quarter extended along its banks. The new China town is on the north-east of Signal Hill, and the railway terminus on the south.

Around the towns were hill forts; in some places north of the town three lines of elaborately wrought defences. In the old town there was a military road leading to the battery and the hill forts, which served also to connect some of the barracks and stores lying north of the Viceroy’s quarters. With the exception of this road and the Bund, the old town did not possess any properly made thoroughfares. There was no real street or good roadway anywhere in the town; the tracks, unless frozen hard, which was unusual, were just troughs of mud through which horses splashed, and jinrickshas were forced by two men. The soil dries rapidly, there is generally a breeze, and dust clouds are common in summer and winter.

Most of the buildings in the Old Town were mean--little better than Chinese dwellings. The greater part of old China town had already been demolished, and it was intended, as the Admiralty works were extended, to absorb the site of the Old Town for government purposes. When war commenced, the Old Town consisted of bungalows, hastily built one-storied houses, go-downs, extemporized stores, and Chinese buildings and houses.

The old towns were sombre, dirty and inconvenient. The houses lacked style, the dwellings the ordinary conveniences of a modern abode. Excepting the Viceregal Lodge and the Naval Club there were no buildings possessing any pretensions to sumptuousness in their decorations or furniture; it may be stated without exaggeration that three-fourths of the houses were unfit to live in, and the remainder were made habitable by the genius and unceasing vigilance of the tenants.

The buildings, called hotels, available for travellers were as primitive as Siberian inns. Nikobadze’s in the New Town consisted of a series of half a dozen cottages, with small suites of rooms let out to residents; in the Old Town of a couple of rows of cubicles in a dingy Chinese house, which were also occupied by residents, but occasionally a furnished room was to be had there. The hotel of the town was Efimoff’s, a one-storied quadrangular building of about twenty-four rooms, of which more than half looked into a courtyard, filled with old packing-cases and miscellaneous effects. Each room was about ten feet by eight; the furniture consisted of a truckle or camp bedstead--no bedding--a small deal table covered with a dirty cloth, and a chair of bent-wood. An old packing case on end, with the lid hinged, formed the washstand; there was a small enamelled basin, a jug of water occasionally, an old petroleum tin served the double purpose of a slop-pail, and the ewer for fresh water. There was no mirror, no picture, rarely an ikon in the sacred corner, and a few wire nails knocked into the whitewashed wall constituted clothes-stand and hat-pegs. The door fastened with a hasp and padlock outside. Upon extra payment one might obtain the loan of a pillow, bed linen and a dirty coverlet. If the occupant wanted anything, he went into the corridor and shouted “Boika,” and in the fulness of time a Chinese coolie, speaking pidgin Russian, would call upon the ‘number,’ and, for an inducement, supply hot water, or a tumbler of weak and very greasy tea. The rent was three roubles a day, and, in peace time even, it was a combination of favour and luck which secured for the stranger this inadequate accommodation. There were other houses, known as hotels, ‘numbers,’ and furnished rooms, which provided superior accommodation at the same price, and there were houses which catered for travellers and new-comers by granting lodging at extortionate prices, fixed by the owners’ judgment of his guests’ ability to pay. Usually therefore European tourists made a short stay at Port Arthur, and business men most frequently resided in the private houses of their friends.

The chief restaurant was Nikobadze’s in the New Town, where excellent meals were served at moderate prices, and the furniture, decorations, and appointments were clean. At the restaurant in the Old Town there was scanty accommodation, inferior cooking, and less appetizing food. The commercial restaurant, much frequented by naval officers, was the Saratov, on the Bund, rough, ready, thoroughly Russian and the only establishment of its kind. There was no café; the only liquor shops were used solely by the _nijni chin_--soldiers, sailors, and dock hands--so but for private hospitality the stranger would have found time drag heavily during the long hours between meals.

The places of amusement were more numerous, but not entertaining. The circus, a permanent show, was the chief attraction. At the Chinese theatre there were performances in Russian occasionally; the music-halls, variety shows, tingle-tangles, and sailors’ grog shops were always open. Bands played most evenings during the summer; in winter there was an ice-rink, frequented chiefly by foreigners, and Port Arthur through their enterprise had its race meeting also. As there were few such societies as one finds in Siberian towns, life at Port Arthur would have been insufferably dull but for the lavish private entertainments by the inhabitants.

Russian residents, without exception, were very fond of Port Arthur, and all Russians, and many foreigners, regard the place with affection. It was symbolic of Russian expansion, of Russian dominion of the Pacific. The navy revered it; it was their only ice-free port: the soldiers were proud of it; as an impregnable fortress it appealed to their sense of power--and the Russian army officer is always conscious of the military might of the empire. Notwithstanding its violent wind-storms, its bleakness, cheerlessness, its dusty streets, dingy houses, and the rugged barren aspect of its hill-fortresses, Port Arthur was endurable--many found a sojourn there agreeable. All classes preferred Port Arthur to any other spot in Russian Asia.

The life there resembled that of Vladivostok, but had greater gaiety, and more noise. A more equable climate permitted of the round of social pleasures being continued more comfortably throughout the four seasons. Life at Port Arthur combined the lavish hospitality, generous toleration and practical _bon-homie_ of Russian custom with the luxury, freedom, and pervading spirit of ease which characterize the orient. It was not Russian life run to riot, as some imagine; nor yet was it purely a combination of Russian and Chinese elements acting and re-acting upon each other. There was a little that was truly cosmopolitan about life in Port Arthur, and the asperities of Russian autocratic rule were tempered by the indomitable insouciance of the former residents in China treaty ports. There were many British subjects and American citizens at Port Arthur, whose ideas of making the best of this life were borrowed from the fashionable _monde_ of Shanghai. They expected the conveniences of life; they wanted ease and pleasure, and time in which to enjoy both. Shanghai is the wonder of the world, and the admiration of every Russian who has travelled the orient. Russians were ready to copy the methods of those who had taken any part in building up or maintaining that great settlement of the British on alien soil, and the Shanghailanders quickly adapted themselves to the peculiarities of the Russian state metropolis, and their influence was soon manifested. These privileged settlers had a unique position, and enjoyed a certain social status pleasing to themselves. So much depended upon the individual. For instance, there was a half-caste, a British subject born in Shanghai, merely a book-keeper in a trading firm, but he kept his race ponies, got into the best social set, and was invited by the Viceroy to ordinary receptions and functions at the Government House. His principals were not; they never could understand why he should be preferred over them. It was merely because he knew better than they did how to ingratiate himself with Russian officials, and Russians are as dead as are the British to racial distinctions. A full-blooded negro, a Chinaman, or any other non-Caucasian would be welcomed as an equal in social intercourse so long as he possessed the instincts of a gentleman and behaved as became a guest in the company with which he mixed. The wonderfully select Naval Club, the rendezvous of the élite, had a Jew book-keeper amongst its members.

So the foreigners were making themselves felt, and were esteemed, not only for their personal worth, but because of the luxuries, the notions, and the manner of life they introduced.

The government of Port Arthur was such as told in their favour, for it was a too much governed place, with a somewhat lax executive. First, stood H. E. the Viceroy, personal representative of the Tsar, a privileged person, possessing almost autocratic power, but never accused of being a despot. An admiral, he thought first of the port, and was anxious to foster its interests, and zealous for its aggrandisement. He wanted a larger harbour, more docks, a better equipped naval station. These views naturally commended themselves to the commercial residents, each of whom benefited by the increased expenditure of government money in and about the town. Then there was the Port Admiral, an energetic and capable seconder of the Viceroy’s views. The Admiral of the Fleet was in a position of power and authority, so was the Commandant, and the Mayor, and the Chief of Police. A Russian subject, a direct employé of the government, might or might not be punished for an infraction of any rule or bye-law--it would depend largely upon his personal value in the position he filled. The commercial employé was in a better position. If a foreigner, although he had no consul to look to for protection, his employer would stand good for him in just so far as he was valuable to him, and the difficulty there would be experienced in obtaining some one else to do his work. The commercial man, whether contractor, caterer, or purveyor, might be, and generally was, of particular use to some one in one or other of the government departments. If the Police, or the Commandant, thought the town would be better for his absence, some port authority, perhaps, found him indispensable; and just as he was indispensable to the authorities, so were his employés indispensable to him. The entertainers and others trying to amuse the public had usually some influential friend who was ready to exert himself to protect them and their interests. Thus the police were always slow to take the initiative in any proceedings against a foreigner, and each authority was just as slow to instruct the police. There resulted a freedom and immunity from molestation probably unequalled in any Russian fortress.

With the personal appearance of Admiral Alexeiev the world is now familiar, and most people know a great deal concerning his character. He upheld the dignity of his position as Viceroy very successfully; to strangers he was invariably courteous, affable, and easy of approach. As an administrator he was not without faults, many traceable to his inordinate appreciation of the Russian navy and his determination to use that navy as the main factor in his policy of Russian expansion in the Far East. Years had steadied his impulsive temperament, but to the last he was subject to periodical fits of furious strenuosity, and at these times work in Port Arthur went ahead rapidly, only to slacken or stop as soon as the energy of the controller lessened, or his vigilance ceased. The Viceroy was popular with naval officers and the townsmen. The military officials did not appreciate his work, and often found it very difficult to work under him pleasantly. General Subotich, who succeeded General Grodekov as Governor-General of the Pri-Amurski Region, resigned immediately Admiral Alexeiev was appointed Viceroy. Incompatibility of methods was the real reason of this, but not every official had the courage of General Subotich, a man whose usefulness has been proved in Kouropatkin’s campaign.

Possibly the chief of the military forces at Port Arthur was worst placed with regard to the civilian population, for from the first there has been friction between the naval and military authorities. General Stoessel was generally disliked; he regarded Port Arthur as a fortress simply, not as a naval station even, and the civil and commercial circles were abhorrent to him. One day a half-caste, of quite different origin to the one already mentioned, had ridden down to the beach for a change of air and scene, when the General came up and wished to know what he was doing there. He answered that he came to look at the sea--for which he understood there was no charge made. The General said he was too near the forts, and the man retorted, that if the General wanted the whole place to himself he was welcome to it; then, to annoy the General still more, he called to the soldier who was leading his horse to and fro, “Fellow, bring me my horse!” Nothing irritated the General more than to have one of his soldiers ordered about by a civilian, and to hear him addressed as “fellow,” just as though he were a mujik, was still more galling. The General did nothing; he did not know whether the man belonged to the staff of a contractor, or perhaps to the Russo-Chinese Bank, and at any rate he must have been well protected to dare to be so impudent. The General changed all that when war broke out; he became a despot.

Once he struck an unsuspecting civilian across the face with his riding whip because the man had failed to recognize and salute him as he was riding through the town. Nor can it be said that General Stoessel was loved by his officers or their men. All dreaded him. Soldiers, seeing him approach, would turn up side streets, hide away behind go-downs, get anywhere out of his way. He careered through the town like a whirlwind, shouting, commanding, blustering. The sentries shook as he neared them. He would ask a soldier who he was, where he came from, when he joined the regiment, and if he saw nothing to complain of in the man’s appearance would command him to take off his boots there and then, so that he might inspect his foot-rags: if these were correct, as likely as not he would ask to see the extra pairs in the man’s kit--rarely indeed did a soldier so examined escape the interviewer without a punishment or a reprimand. It was said by many Russians that if war should come General Stoessel would be shot from behind by some of his own soldiers--so widely and so thoroughly was he hated. A strict disciplinarian, he regarded his men as so many fighting units whose duty it was in peace time to keep themselves in fighting trim; and in order that they might be found so when he should require them he did his best to keep them sufficiently fed, properly clothed, and in good health.

The conditions ruling in the port made his task hard, but he kept pounding away at rank and file. A man of excellent physique, fine courage and exuberant spirits himself, he thought every soldier ought to be as able and ready as he was himself to labour incessantly.

In ordinary times life at Port Arthur was different in degree, but not in kind, from that of the majority of garrison towns. Many exaggerated accounts have been circulated respecting the vices of its inhabitants, and the port has been represented as the modern equivalent of the cities of the plain, whereas of crime there was less than the average in other Russian ports, and the percentage of vicious and undesirable citizens not higher than at Vladivostok, or some other Pacific ports. Fast living and outrageous rowdyism were more noticeable, because confined to a small area. The garrison numbered about 20,000; add to this 5,000 for the onshore men of the fleet and the male civilians, and it will be apparent that females must have been comparatively few, and so were shown particular, even absurd attention. There was hardly a singer at a music-hall but received extravagant praise and had numerous admirers; a tight-rope dancer was equally certain of applause; and the officers, as all men of a class congregating together are prone to do, not infrequently were carried away by their enthusiasm and acted boisterously and foolishly. They were lavish with their money, particularly when amongst a gang of their equals in rank, and delighted in monopolizing attention, ‘closing the house,’ having a repetition of the performance for their own delectation, and in every way making themselves conspicuous by extravagant behaviour in public. All officers, whether on or off duty, wear their uniforms, therefore are constantly in evidence at music-halls, rollicking along the streets, or arguing when intoxicated before the public in a restaurant--glorying in doing the very obtrusive acts every British and American officer would be most careful to avoid when in uniform.

The ladies of Port Arthur were neither numerous nor much in evidence. The first woman to arrive at the port was the wife of the postmaster, and every Russian in the fortress went to the shore to greet her. The practice was kept up for a long time, but there were comparatively few present when the postmaster’s wife slipped away after the war had begun, for she was one of the first to leave. The first woman who died in Port Arthur, after the Russian occupation, was a Scotch adventuress named Dolly Andersen, who was cruelly done to death in the house of some Jews amongst whom she had fallen, long before any semblance of civil authority had been established. The women most conspicuous latterly were the large troupes of chorus girls brought in for the vaudeville halls, and these artistes were for the most part Jewesses from eastern Europe. No doubt the majority of the officials of all the services saw everything there was to be seen in the _starai gorod_ and China Town too, but only a minority made a habit of riotous living. In Port Arthur, as elsewhere, the majority ordinarily went through their daily duties in humdrum fashion and occupied their leisure in following a simple hobby, visiting their friends, and waiting for the morrow. Very few took keen interest in their work; the really busy people were the commercial men, Russians, Jews, foreigners and Chinese--these men had no time to spare from the soul-engrossing game of money-making.

To me the officers and men of both services seemed decidedly apathetic, considering that almost everybody believed that war was probable, if not imminent, and that for weeks past Port Arthur had been visited continuously by special war correspondents from every country.

The Russians were insensible to the danger, but not because of their own preparedness to meet attack, for it cannot be said of them that they so conducted themselves in times of peace as to be ready for war if it came unexpectedly. On the contrary, they danced under the sword of Damocles, and set it swinging by sawing at the delicate thread by which it was suspended. And they are the more blameworthy inasmuch as Russia placed in their hands a trust they betrayed, unwittingly it is true, by their fatuous neglect. The handwriting was upon the wall, but they heeded it not, and, like their neighbours the Chinese, who threw up millions of hummocks to impress the foreign invaders with the vastness of their number and consequent invincibility, they relied upon the advertised strength and impregnability of their great fortress to ward off attack and secure for themselves immunity from danger. The authorities really believed that even if Japan did make war upon Russia, the great stronghold of Port Arthur would be one of the last places they would attempt to assault.

It would have been well for Russia had the authorities at Port Arthur inculcated the counsel given long ago by General Nogi, the man who was to carry the Sun-flag into their very midst. In that general’s opinion “the brilliant and faithful performances of a soldier on the battlefield are nothing but the blossoms and fruit of the work and training performed day by day in times of peace. The man whose life is in disorder during the days of peace would have a difficult task if he attempted to perform successfully and correctly the duties of a true soldier in the tumult of the battlefield.”

Russia is represented conventionally in pictorial art as a bear, but the figure of an ostrich would be more appropriate, for, like Russia, that has wings but cannot soar, only run, and like the ostrich Russia thinks by hiding danger from its sight it thereby secures safety.

By the end of the first week in February 1904 the relations between Russia and Japan were so strained that the official representatives of both countries left their posts. An act so indicative of danger as this has always been held to be, ought to have been received in Port Arthur either with gladness or with consternation. It was accepted by the officials with indifference: the public knew nothing until the Japanese came. Elsewhere such news would of itself be sufficient to cancel all private engagements made by members of the fighting services, but at Port Arthur so slight a matter would not warrant even the postponement of a social function. Monday, February 7, was the name-day of the Port Admiral’s wife and daughter. The invitations were out, the reception was given. Officers of all grades flocked to the residence from the forts and the ships. Those who had to make but a duty call, for the most part concluded the day by visiting some place of amusement. More intimate friends stayed to the reception. The social life of the port continued without a moment’s intermission. Midnight came, and shortly after midnight the foe attacked.

Even then Port Arthur was slow to exert itself. It did not realize the danger that threatened. Some naval officers on shore said, and believed, that the firing in the roadstead was because of ‘naval manœuvres.’ Harbour, forts and town, for an hour or more, were absolutely at the mercy of the enemy, but the enemy did not know.

The Russians had ignored sign after sign: the withdrawal of Ministers, the flight of the Japanese, the presence of the Japanese consul directing their embarkation, even the firing of their own guns against the invading enemy seemed insufficient to notify some officers that a state of war existed. _That_ was just what could not be believed.

The foreign residents knew. At the sound of the first shot one woman jumped into a two-horse carriage and drove from the New Town right down to the beach, a distance of four miles, to make sure that the war she had been so long expecting had at last really commenced.