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.