Through Siberia

By Henry Lansdell

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Title: Through Siberia

Author: Henry Lansdell

Release date: January 20, 2026 [eBook #77742]

Language: English

Original publication: London: S. Low, Marston, Searle and Rivington, 1883

Credits: Peter Becker, Terry Jeffress, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THROUGH SIBERIA ***

[Illustration: GOLD-MINE AND WASHING-HOUSE AT KARA.]

THROUGH SIBERIA

BY HENRY LANSDELL, D.D., F.R.G.S.

With Illustrations and Maps

_FIFTH EDITION_

London
SAMPSON LOW, MARSTON, SEARLE, AND RIVINGTON
188, FLEET STREET

1883

[_All Rights Reserved._]

I inscribe these pages

TO THE RIGHT HONORABLE

HUGH McCALMONT, EARL CAIRNS, P.C., LL.D.,

CHANCELLOR OF THE UNIVERSITY OF DUBLIN, AND LATE

LORD HIGH CHANCELLOR OF ENGLAND, IN GRATEFUL

APPRECIATION OF OFFICIAL KINDNESS

MORE THAN ONCE ACCORDED ME

IN FURTHERING MY VISITS

TO THE PRISONS OF

EUROPE

PREFACE TO THIRD EDITION.

Being about to leave England on a projected tour through Russian
Central Asia, and the second edition of “Through Siberia” having
become nearly exhausted, I find myself called upon to make preparation
for a third and cheaper issue. It is only necessary to say that the
subject-matter of the third and second editions is alike, the third
edition, however, being bound in one volume, and printed on thinner
paper, with somewhat fewer illustrations.

H. L.

BLACKHEATH,
_21st June, 1882_.

PREFACE TO SECOND EDITION.

Being unexpectedly but agreeably obliged to prepare a second edition
before the day for the public appearance of the first, I can do little
more than express my gratitude for the favour with which my book has
been received, and repeat what has already been printed. The kind and
too favourable reviews that have thus far come under my notice seem to
call for little remark but of thanks. One journal, however--the _St.
James’s Gazette_--has stated, on the authority of a Russian informant,
that ‘official orders were sent before me to the prisons to make
things wear a favourable aspect for my visit.’ I venture therefore
here to repeat what I wrote to the Editor (but which he did not think
fit to publish), that if his Russian informant, or any other, thinks
that I have been duped or misinformed, I am perfectly ready to be
questioned, and shall be happy to discuss the question in the public
press, provided only that my opponent give facts, dates, names, and
places, and do not hide behind general statements and impersonalities.
My own conviction is that in the overwhelming majority of cases, at all
events, I saw Siberian prison affairs in their normal condition.

With the exception, then, of a corrected note which appeared on
page 37, vol. i., a slight re-arrangement of the bibliography and
appendices, a few verbal alterations, and a _new and improved index_,
this second edition is the same as the first.

H. L.

THE GROVE, BLACKHEATH,
_20th February, 1882_.

PREFACE TO FIRST EDITION.

This book is a traveller’s story, enriched from the writings of
others. In San Francisco an American Bishop said to me, “I hope, sir,
you will give us your experience, for Siberia is a country of which
we know so little.” Accordingly, on my return, two courses presented
themselves--either to confine myself to an account of my personal
adventures, or to supplement them from published information, and
describe the country as a whole. I chose the latter course, and the
result is in the reader’s hands. At the end of the work will be
found a list of books consulted, to the authors of many of which I
must acknowledge myself indebted for much scientific and technical
information.

My speciality in Siberia was the visitation of its prisons and penal
institutions, considered, however, not so much from an economic or
administrative as from a philanthropic and religious point of view.
Much has been written concerning them that is very unsatisfactory, and
some things that are absolutely false. One author published “My Exile
in Siberia” who never went there. “Escapes” and so-called “Revelations”
of Siberia have been written by others who were banished only a few
days’ journey beyond the Urals; whereas it is only east of the Baikal
that the severest forms of exile life begin. None, so far as I know,
who have escaped or been released from the mines, have written the tale
of what they endured, and very few authors have been in a position even
to describe what the penal mines are like.

It has been comparatively easy, therefore, in England for writers to
exaggerate on this subject almost as they pleased, because scarcely any
one could contradict them. Comparatively few travellers cross Northern
Asia to the Amur. I doubt if any _English_ author has preceded me.
Probably also I was the first foreigner ever allowed to go through the
Siberian prisons and mines. Perhaps none before have asked permission.
That I obtained such an authorization astonished my friends, though the
open manner in which the letter was granted seemed to show that the
authorities had nothing to hide. A master-key was put into my hand that
opened every door. I went where I would, and almost when I would; and
on no single occasion was admission refused, though often applied for
at a moment’s notice. Statistics also were freely given me; but this
was “not so writ in the bond.” An afterthought, in Siberia, emboldened
me to ask for them in various places, and they were usually furnished
then and there. All these are displayed before the reader. I have
exaggerated nothing,--kept nothing back.

I speak thus in case I should be thought to have written with a bias;
but I had no reason to be other than impartial. Of politics I know
next to nothing, and so was not prejudiced in this direction. Nor had
I anything to gain by withholding, or to fear from telling, the whole
of the truth. I did not travel as the agent or representative of any
religious body. Two societies, indeed, at my request, made me grants
of books, and a generous friend provided the cost of travel; but the
expedition was a private one, and implicated none but myself. I could
not, of course, see matters as a prisoner would; but I wish to state
that, having visited prisons in nearly every country of Europe, I have
given here an unprejudiced statement of what I saw and heard in the
prisons and mines of Siberia

That a foreigner, flying across Europe and Asia, as I did, is
exceedingly likely to receive false impressions and form erroneous
conclusions, is obvious to every one, and I claim no exemption; for
though I have journeyed in Russia, from Archangel to Mount Ararat, yet
my experience is that of a traveller only, and not of a resident. I
do not even speak Russ, but have been dependent on interpreters, or
information received in French. I trust, therefore, that no one may be
misled by taking my testimony for more than it is worth. I have tried
to be accurate, and that is all I can say.

Perhaps I may add, however, that my proof-sheets have been revised by
Russian friends among others, and that most of the chapters concerning
exile life have been submitted not only to a Russian Inspector of
Prisons, but also to released political exiles who have worked in
the mines. The latter endorse what I have said, and (with reference
to the chapters on “Exiles,” “Political Prisoners,” and the “Mines
of Nertchinsk”) the Inspector has done me the compliment to write,
“What you say is so perfectly correct that your book may be taken as a
standard, even by Russian authorities.” I have good hope, therefore,
that in this feature of my work, at all events, I have avoided
misrepresentation.

On scientific subjects I cannot speak with authority; but I have
been allowed to submit the proof-sheets to various friends, who
have kindly read them with an eye to their particular studies. My
thanks, accordingly, are due to Sir Andrew Ramsay, LL.D., F.R.S.,
Director-General of the Geological Survey of the United Kingdom; to Mr.
James Glaisher, F.R.S., formerly of the meteorological department of
the Greenwich Observatory; and to Mr. Trelawney Saunders, Geographer
to the India Office. Mr. Henry Seebohm, F.L.S., F.Z.S., has read
such paragraphs as relate to zoology and ornithology; and Mr. Henry
Howorth, F.S.A., author of “The History of the Mongols,” has afforded
suggestions from his extensive reading in Siberian ethnology. I am also
indebted for information concerning many Sclavonic words, manners, and
customs to Mrs. Cattley, formerly of Petersburg, and a great traveller
in Russia; and to the Rev. C. Slegg Ward, M.A., Vicar of Wootton St.
Lawrence, for literary help. It is difficult to restrain my pen from
mentioning others--the scores of friends who gave me introductions, the
scores of others who received and honoured them--but if I once begin in
this direction, where shall I end? I can only say that, for hospitality
to strangers, Siberia carries the palm before every country in which I
have travelled, and that from the day I crossed the Russian frontier
till I reached the Pacific I met with nothing but kindness.

H. L.

THE GROVE, BLACKHEATH,
_20th December, 1881_.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I.

_INTRODUCTORY._

PAGE

Object of the journey.--Interest in prisons.--Visitation of
prisons in 1874.--Distribution of religious literature in
Russia.--Tour round Bothnian Gulf, 1876.--To Russo-Turkish
war, 1877.--To Archangel, 1878.--Origin of Siberian
journey.--Alba Hellman and her correspondence.--The way
opened.--Projected efforts of usefulness.--Books to be
distributed.--Final resolve 1

CHAPTER II.

_ACROSS EUROPE._

Departure for Petersburg.--Official receptions.--Minister of the
Interior.--Metropolitan of Moscow.--Introductions.--Books
forwarded.--Departure for Moscow.--Nijni Novgorod.--Site
of the fair.--Joined by interpreter.--Kasan.--Bulgarian
antiquities.--Neighbouring heathen.--Idolatrous objects
and practices.--Departure from Kasan.--The Volga and the
Kama.--Arrival at Perm 9

CHAPTER III.

_THE URALS TO TIUMEN._

A new railway.--The Ural range.--Outlook into Russia in Asia.--Nijni
Tagil.--The Demidoff mines and hospital.--May weather.--Russian
railways.--Arrival at Ekaterineburg.--An orphanage.--Precious
stones.--Orenburg shawls.--Tarantass and luggage.--Departure for
Tiumen.--The exiles.--Visits to the authorities 17

CHAPTER IV.

_THE EXILES._

Reasons for and history of deportation to Siberia.--Number
of exiles.--Their education.--Crimes.--Sentences.--Loss
of rights.--Privileges.--Proportion of hard-labour
convicts.--Where located.--Release.--Escapes.--Causes and
methods of flight.--Transport.--A convoy of exiles.--Moscow
charity.--Conveyance to Perm and Tiumen.--Their
distribution.--Order of march.--Sea-borne exiles.--Mistakes
of English newspapers.--Conveyance of political exiles 31

CHAPTER V.

_FROM TIUMEN TO TOBOLSK._

General remarks on
Siberia.--Limits.--Area.--Temperature.--Divisions.--Roads.--
Ethnography.--Language.--Posting to Tobolsk.--Floods.--Spring
roads.--Villages of Tatars.--Their history.--Characteristics.--
Costume.--Occupation.--Worship.--Language 49

CHAPTER VI.

_SIBERIAN PRISONS._

Old Finnish prisons.--Model Petersburg
prison.--Officers.--Contraband importations.--Russian
prisons of six kinds.--Siberian prisons of three kinds:
their number, location, structure, furniture.--Prisoners:
their classification.--Kansk statistics.--Method of
trial.--Remands.--Exchanging names and punishments 63

CHAPTER VII.

_SIBERIAN PRISONS (continued)._

Charitable committees.--Prison food.--Clothing.--Work.--Hard
labour.--Exercise.--Amusements.--Privileges.--Intercourse
with friends.--Punishments.--Capital
punishment.--Corporal punishment.--Irons.--Prison
discipline.--Flogging.--Exceptional severities 77

CHAPTER VIII.

_THE OBI._

Dimensions of river.--Its tributaries.--Province
of Tobolsk.--Geographical
features.--Population.--Voguls.--Samoyedes.--Intemperance.--
Commercial prospects of Obi.--Siberian produce.--Corn
land.--Timber.--Cost of provisions.--Carriage.--Discoveries
of Wiggins.--Followed by Nordenskiöld.--Ship-building at
Tiumen.--Navigation of Kara Sea.--Books on basin of Obi 96

CHAPTER IX.

_TOBOLSK._

Early history of Siberia.--Yermak.--Conquest of the
Tatars.--Tobolsk the first capital.--The exiled bell.--Our
visit to the Governor.--Hard-labour prisons.--Interior
arrangements.--“_Travaux forcés._”--Testimony of
prisoners.--Books presented 109

CHAPTER X.

_FROM TOBOLSK TO TOMSK._

The steamer
_Beljetchenko_.--Fellow-passengers.--Card-playing.--Cost
of provisions.--Inspection of convicts’ barge.--An exile
fellow-passenger.--Obi navigation.--The Ostjaks.--Their
fisheries.--Feats of archery.--Marriage customs 117

CHAPTER XI.

_TOMSK._

The province of Tomsk.--The city of Tomsk.--Visit to the
Governor.--The prison.--Institution for prisoners’
children.--A Lutheran minister.--Finnish colonies in
Siberia.--Their pastoral care.--Dissuaded from visiting
Minusinsk.--Distribution of Finnish books.--_Détour_ to
Barnaul 127

CHAPTER XII.

_SIBERIAN POSTING._

Travelling by post-horses.--The courier, crown, and ordinary
_podorojna_.--The tarantass.--Packing.--Harness.--
Horses.--Roads.--Pains and penalties.--Crossing
rivers.--Cost.--Speed.--Post-houses.--Meat and drink 134

CHAPTER XIII.

_FROM TOMSK SOUTHWARDS._

Application for horses.--Effect of Petersburg letter.--A false
start.--A horse killed.--Attempted cooking.--Siberian
weather.--Meteorology.--Scenery.--Trees, plants, and
flowers.--An elementary school.--Education in Western Siberia 143

CHAPTER XIV.

_BARNAUL._

Situation of town.--Cemetery.--Burial of the dead.--The Emperor’s
usine.--Visit to Mr. Clark.--Visits to hospital and prison.--A
recently-enacted tragedy.--Crime of the district.--Smelting
of silver and gold.--Price of land and provisions.--Return to
Tomsk 152

CHAPTER XV.

_THE SIBERIAN CHURCH._

The Russian Church.--Geographical area.--History, doctrines,
schisms.--Ecclesiastical divisions of Siberia.--Church
committees.--Russian Church services.--Picture
worship.--Vestments.--Liturgy.--Ordination.--Baptism.--
Marriage.--Minor services 161

CHAPTER XVI.

_THE SIBERIAN CHURCH (continued)._

Parochial clergy.--Their emoluments.--Duties.--Official
registers.--Discipline.--Morality.--Status.--Our
clerical visits.--Monastic clergy.--The Metropolitan
Macarius.--Fasting.--General view of Russian Church.--Compared
with Roman.--Teaching respecting Holy Scripture and salvation
by faith.--Needs of Russian Church 171

CHAPTER XVII.

_FROM TOMSK TO KRASNOIARSK._

Book-distribution in Western Siberia.--Departure
from Tomsk.--Postbells.--How to sit in
posting.--Sleeping.--Boundary of Western Siberia.--Wild
and domesticated animals.--Birds.--Scenery.--Roadside
villages.--Peasants’ houses.--Hammering up “the
Prodigal Son.”--Siberian towns.--Houses of upper
classes.--Misadventures.--A hospitable merchant.--Frontier
of Eastern Siberia 183

CHAPTER XVIII.

_THE YENESEI._

Sources of the river.--Discoveries of Wiggins and
Nordenskiöld.--The Yenesei at Krasnoiarsk.--Current,
width, depth.--Breaking up of ice.--The Yeneseisk
province.--Geography.--Meteorology.--Forests.--Timber.--Fish
of Yenesei.--Birds.--Russian population.--Navigation.--Corn
and cattle.--Towns.--A Scoptsi village.--Salubrity of
climate.--The aborigines.--Ethnology.--Tunguses.--Fur-bearing
animals.--Methods of hunting.--Minerals 196

CHAPTER XIX.

_A VISIT TO A GOLD-MINE._

Gold in Siberia.--Where found.--Gold-hunting.--A
prospecting party.--Thawing the ground.--Subterranean
passages.--Hardships.--Mining calculations.--Building of
barracks.--Preparations for our visit.--Costumes.--Road
through “the forest primeval.”--Luxuriant
vegetation.--Crossing mountains.--Arrival at mine.--Labour
of miners.--Gold-washing machine.--Government
inspection.--Wages.--Hours of labour.--Miners’
food.--Pay-day.--Drink and its follies.--Miners’
fortunes.--Mines of Eastern Siberia.--Return to Krasnoiarsk 211

CHAPTER XX.

_FROM KRASNOIARSK TO ALEXANDREFFSKY._

Situation of Krasnoiarsk.--Our hotel.--Dr. Peacock.--Visit
to prison, hospital, and madhouse.--Cathedral.--Drive
in “Rotten Row.”--Shoeing horses.--Bible affairs at
Krasnoiarsk.--Consignment to Governor for provinces of
Yeneseisk and Yakutsk.--Departure from Krasnoiarsk.--Change
of scenery.--Kansk _Okrug_.--Our arrival anticipated.--Visit
to Ispravnik.--Statistics of crime.--The Protopope of
Kansk.--Parochial information.--Demand for Scriptures.--A
travelling companion.--Further posting help.--Butterflies
and mosquitoes.--Nijni Udinsk.--Telma factory.--A
_détour_.--Alexandreffsky 227

CHAPTER XXI.

_THE ALEXANDREFFSKY CENTRAL PRISON._

Prison wards.--Punishment cells.--Communication with
friends.--Nationalities of prisoners.--Their
work.--Food.--Distribution of books.--Our
reception.--Lunch.--Departure.--Runaway horses.--An
accident.--Left alone.--Return to post-house 245

CHAPTER XXII.

_A CITY ON FIRE._

Approach to Irkutsk.--The city entered.--Remains of a fire.--A
second fire.--Our flight.--Crossing of the Angara.--A
refuge.--Inhabitants fleeing.--Salvage.--Firemen’s
efforts.--Spread of the catastrophe.--Return to lodging.--A
chapel saved.--Spectacle of fire at night.--Reflections 253

CHAPTER XXIII.

_IRKUTSK._

Province of Irkutsk.--The capital.--Its markets.--Telegraph
officers.--Visit to the Governor.--Ruins of the
city.--Attempt to establish a Bible depôt.--Supposed
incendiarism.--Benevolent arrangements of
authorities.--Wife-beating.--Servility of Russian
peasants.--Visit to a rich merchant.--Ecclesiastical
affairs.--Visit to the acting Governor-General.--The
prisons.--A prisoner’s view of them.--Prison
committee.--Distribution of books.--Visit to inspector of
schools.--Change of route 264

CHAPTER XXIV.

_THE LENA._

History of Russian invasion.--Former travellers to
Okhotsk.--Cochrane, Erman, and Hill.--Down the Lena to
Yakutsk.--Prevalence of goitre.--The Upper Lena and its
tributaries.--The Lower Lena.--Discoveries of mammoths.--New
Siberian islands.--Nordenskiöld’s passage 281

CHAPTER XXV.

_YAKUTSK._

The province of Yakutsk.--Rivers.--Minerals.--The town of
Yakutsk.--Its temperature.--Inhabitants.--The
Yukaghirs.--The Yakutes.--Their dwellings.--Food.--Dress.--
Products.--Occupations.--Industries.--Language.--Religion.--
Route from Yakutsk to Okhotsk.--Reindeer riding.--Summer
journey.--Treatment of horses 294

CHAPTER XXVI.

_ACROSS LAKE BAIKAL TO TROITZKOSAVSK._

Leaving Irkutsk.--The Angara.--Approach to the Baikal: its shores
and fish.--Steaming across.--Seizing post-horses.--Arrival
at Verchne Udinsk.--Smuggling at the prison.--Arrival at
Selenginsk.--English mission to Buriats.--English graves.--Old
scholars.--Story of the mission.--Journey to Troitzkosavsk 309

CHAPTER XXVII.

_THE SIBERIAN FRONTIER AT KIAKHTA._

Hospitable reception.--History of Kiakhta.--Treaties between
Russians and Chinese.--Early trading.--Decline of
commerce.--The tea trade.--Troitzkosavsk church.--Miraculous
ikons.--Kiakhta church.--Russian churches in
general.--Bells.--Valuable ikons.--Climate of Kiakhta.--Drive
to Ust-Keran 322

CHAPTER XXVIII.

_THE MONGOLIAN FRONTIER AT MAIMATCHIN._

Outlook into Mongolia.--Town of Maimatchin:
without women.--Visit to a Chinese
merchant.--Refreshments.--Attendants.--Purchases.--Tea
bricks for coin.--The town.--Buddhist temple.--Chinese
malefactors.--Their punishments.--Chinese
dinner.-Food.--Intoxicating drinks.--Route to
Peking.--Travellers.-Modes of conveyance.--Manners of the
desert.--Postal service 337

CHAPTER XXIX.

_FROM KIAKHTA TO CHITA._

Farewell ceremonies.--Writing home of changed
plans.--Caravans.--An iron foundry.--Buriat
yemstchiks.--Methods of driving.--Salutations.--Insignificant
post-stations.--Visit to a missionary to the Buriats.--Russian
missions in Japan.--A remarkable meeting.--The Yablonoi
mountains.--Chita.--Visit to the Governor and prison 353

CHAPTER XXX.

_THE BURIATS._

Country of the Buriats.--Their physiognomy
and costume.--Habitations.--Mongol
yourts.--Hospitality.--Fuel.--Possessions in
cattle.--Character of Buriats.--Their religions.--Buddhist
Buriats.--The soul of Buddha.--The lamas.--Their celibacy,
classification, employments, disabilities.--Buddhist
doctrines.--A prayer cylinder.--Christian Buriats.--English
missions.--Reports of English travellers.--Results of Russian
missions.--Distribution of Buriat Scriptures 364

CHAPTER XXXI.

_SIBERIAN POLITICAL PRISONERS._

The Za-Baikal, a natural prison.--“Decembrists” of
1825.--Misapprehensions respecting political prisoners.--The
“Story of Elizabeth.”--Vindictive foreign writers.--Palpable
misstatements.--Misleading information.--Dostoyeffsky’s
“Buried Alive.”--Rosen’s “Russian Conspirators.”--Present
condition of political prisoners.--Testimony of
Poles.--Treatment of an attempted regicide.--The number
of “politicals” exaggerated.--Calculations concerning
them.--Their mode of transport.--Paucity of statistics
accounted for 377

CHAPTER XXXII.

_FROM CHITA TO NERTCHINSK._

The Trans-Baikal province.--Books deposited with the
Governor--Specimen letter of consignment.--Prisons and
hospitals.--Governor’s distribution of books.--Satisfactory
results.--Journey from Chita.--Buriat _Obos_.--Russian
emigrants.--Salutations.--Approach to Nertchinsk.--Its
mineral treasures 400

CHAPTER XXXIII.

_THE SILVER AND (SO-CALLED) QUICKSILVER MINES OF NERTCHINSK._

The supposed quicksilver-mines.--Inadequate evidence of their
existence.--Unsupported statements of writers.--Not
known to Anglo-Siberians.--Silver-mines, perhaps,
intended.--Deleterious fumes a myth.--Questionable
allegations regarding silver-mines.--Sensational
writers.--Misstatements exposed.--Testimony of Collins and
other eye-witnesses.--Accounts of ex-prisoners and Lutheran
pastor.--Nertchinsk Zavod and work in the mines.--Condition
of affairs in 1866.--Present state of things.--The Nemesis
of exaggeration 408

CHAPTER XXXIV.

_FROM NERTCHINSK TO STRETINSK._

Nertchinsk.--Its climate and history.--Scene of a
Russo-Chinese treaty.--Appearance of the town.--Visit to
the authorities.--Dinner with a rich merchant.--Siberian
table customs.--Poverty of travelling fare.--Fine arts in
Siberia.--Painting and photography.--Journey from Nertchinsk 425

CHAPTER XXXV.

_FROM STRETINSK TO UST-KARA._

Arrival at Stretinsk.--Recorded distances from Petersburg.--Taking
in a passenger.--Travelling allowance to officers.--Parting
with interpreter.--Farewell to tarantass.--Starting
to Kara.--The world before me.--Previous writers on
the Amur.--Gliding down the Shilka.--Talking by dumb
signs.--My Cossack attendant.--Taking an oar.--How Russians
sleep.--Arrival at Ust-Kara 436

CHAPTER XXXVI.

_THE PENAL COLONY OF KARA._

Evil reputation of Kara.--Testimony from Siberians and
exiles.--My own experience.--The Commandant.--Our evening
drive.--Hospitable reception.--Statistics respecting
prisoners: their crimes, sentences, and settlement as
“exiles.”--The Amurski prison.--Cossack barracks.--The upper
prison.--Convicts’ food.--Prisoners’ private laws.--Middle
Kara prison.--Mohammedan forçats.--Sunday labour.--Convict
clothing.--Guard-house.--A genuine political prisoner.--The
church.--Lack of preaching.--House of the Commandant 445

CHAPTER XXXVII.

_THE CONVICT MINES OF KARA._

Gold-mines not underground.--Hours of labour.--Visit to a
mine.--Punishments.--Branding abolished.--Miners marching
off.--Statistics respecting runaways.--Women criminals at
mines.--A new building for expected politicals.--Superannuated
forçats.--The hospitals.--“Birching” and its effects.--Kara
in 1859.--Improvements effected by Colonel Kononovitch.--A
children’s home.--Return to the gold-mine.--Comparison of
Siberian and English convicts.--Distribution of books 462

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

_THE SHILKA._

Departure from Kara.--Parting hospitality.--Ust-Kara
police-master.--The head waters of the Shilka.--Collins’s
descent of Ingoda.--The Onon.--Formation of
Shilka.--Scenery below Stretinsk.--Shilkinsk.--Hospitality
of police-master.--Non-arrival of steamer.--Efforts
at conversation.--Steaming down the river.--Shilka
scenery.--Tributaries from north and south.--Arrival at
confluence of Shilka and Argun 480

CHAPTER XXXIX.

_THE HISTORY OF THE AMUR._

Divisible into three periods.--Period of Cossack
plunder.--Poyarkof.--Khabarof.--Stepanof.--Discovery and
occupation of Shilka.--Chernigovsky.--Period of conflict with
Chinese.--Russo-Chinese treaty of 1686.--Russian mission at
Peking.--Affairs on the Amur during Russian exclusion.--Third
historic period from 1847.--Preparatory operations on Lower
Amur.--Muravieff’s descent of the river, 1854.--Influence
of the Crimean war.--Colonization of Lower Amur.--Further
colonization, 1857.--Chinese protests.--Influence of
Anglo-Chinese war.--The Sea Coast erected into a Russian
province.--Renewed difficulties with China.--Treaty of
1860.--Review of Russian occupation 489

CHAPTER XL.

_THE UPPER AMUR._

Formation of the Amur.--Chinese boundary.--Our
steamer.--Captain and passengers.--Natives of Upper
Amur.--Orochons.--Manyargs.--Their hunting year.--Our
journey.--Run aground.--Table provisions.--Notes on
cooking.--Scenery.--Albazin.--Cliff of Tsagayan 503

CHAPTER XLI.

_BLAGOVESTCHENSK._

Blagovestchensk and Russian missions.--Particulars of
orthodox missionary society.--Visit to telegraph
station.--Seminary for training priests.--Salaries of
Russian clergy.--Blagovestchensk prison.--Leafy
barracks.--View of the town.--Molokan inhabitants 518

CHAPTER XLII.

_THE MIDDLE AMUR._

Departure from Blagovestchensk.--The Zeya.--Climate.--A
bath under difficulties.--Occupation of time.--Russian
tea-drinking.--The Bureya river and mountains.--Delightful
scenery.--Ekaterino-Nicolsk.--Distribution of books and
Scriptures.--Reception and recognition of passengers.--Prairie
scenery.--Shooting a dog.--The Sungari.--Chinese
exclusiveness.--Course of the river.--The Amur province.--An
excise officer.--Remarks on alcohol.--Teetotalism in Russia 531

CHAPTER XLIII.

_THE MANCHURIAN FRONTIER._

Manchuria and its aboriginal inhabitants.--Their history.--The
Daurians.--The Manchu.--Visit to Sakhalin-Ula-Hotun.--Manchu
dress.--Music.--Conveyances.--Articles of commerce.--Treatment
of dead.--Boats.--Methods of fishing.--Archery.--Town of
Aigun.--Buildings.--Temples.--Difficulties of access 547

CHAPTER XLIV.

_THE PRIMORSK OR SEA-COAST PROVINCE._

Fuller treatment of this province.--Boundaries and
dimensions.--Mountains, bays, and rivers.--Climate.--Fauna and
flora.--Aboriginal and Russian population.--Government.--Food
products.--Imports.--Taxes.--Civil government.--Health of the
people 560

CHAPTER XLV.

_THE LOWER AMUR._

My plans altered.--A serious alternative.--Khabarofka.--Fur
trade.--Post-office and bank.--A Siberian garden.--Started for
Nikolaefsk.--The Lower Amur.--Its affluents.--Fish.--A Russian
advocate.--Goldi Christians.--Sophiisk.--A procureur.--Lake
Kizi.--Mariinsk.--Snow mountains.--Mikhailofsky.--Hot-springs
of Mukhal.--Beautiful scenery.--Tyr monuments.--The “white
village.”--Mouth of the Amur 574

CHAPTER XLVI.

_THE GILYAKS._

The Gilyaks perfect heathens.--Their habitat,
number, and form.--Diseases, generation, and
character.--Habitations.--Living on fish.--Winter
and summer clothing.--Methods of fishing.--Dirty
habits.--Domestic animals.--Boats.--Marriage customs.--Price
of a wife.--Foreign relations.--Fair at Pul.--Manchu
merchants.--Conversation with Gilyaks.--Gilyak and
Goldi languages.--Education.--Superstitions.--Idols and
charms.--Method of bear catching and killing.--Alleged
worship of the bear.--Shaman rites.--Gilyak treatment of the
dead.--Romanist mission to the Gilyaks.--Martyrdom of the
missionary 593

CHAPTER XLVII.

_NIKOLAEFSK._

My arrival.--Visit to prisons and hospitals.--Health
statistics.--Siberian hospitals in general.--A Sunday
service arranged.--Visits to inhabitants.--Russian customs,
superstitions, and amusements.--Dancing.--Nikolaefsk town,
arsenal, and commerce.--Mr. Emery.--Russian bribery.--Cost of
provisions and labour.--Plans for return 614

CHAPTER XLVIII.

_KAMCHATKA._

The Upper Primorsk.--History of north-eastern maritime
discovery.--Russian navigation of Siberian
ocean.--Explorations in the North Pacific.--Wiggins and
Nordenskiöld.--Exploration of Siberia by land.--Travellers in
Upper Primorsk.--The Sea of Okhotsk and fisheries.--Bush’s
journey.--Okhotsk and its natives.--Kamchatka.--Its
volcanoes, earthquakes, springs.--Garden produce
and animals.--Kamchatdales.--Their number and
character.--The Koriaks.--Their warlike spirit.--Houses
of settled and wandering Koriaks.--Food.--Herds of
deer.--Marriage customs.--Putting sick and aged to
death.--The Chukchees.--Their habitat.--Diminution of fur
animals.--Vegetation.--Intoxicating plants.--Kennan’s
tales of the Chukchees.--Nordenskiöld stranded on Chukchee
coast.--Onkelon antiquities 630

CHAPTER XLIX.

_THE ISLAND OF SAKHALIN._

Geographical description.--Meteorology.--Flora and
fauna.--Population.--Cultivation.--Mineral
products.--Coal-mine at Dui and penal settlement.--Prison
statistics.--Flogging.--Desperate criminals.--Complaints of
prison food.--Prison labour.--Difficulties of escape.--Prison
executive and alleged abuses.--General opinion on Siberian
prisons.--Comparison of Siberian and English convicts 648

CHAPTER L.

_THE USSURI AND SUNGACHA._

Ussuri little known.--From Nikolaefsk to Khabarofka.--Proposal to
move the port.--Military forces in the province.--Departure
for Kamen Ruiboloff.--The Ussuri.--Visit to a parish
priest.--The native Goldi.--Missions of the Russian
Church.--Pay of missionaries.--Head waters of
Ussuri.--The Sungacha.--Cossacks.--Visit to a Cossack
stanitza.--Chinese houses.--Lake Khanka.--Arrival at Kamen
Ruiboloff.--Anticipated wedding 665

CHAPTER LI.

_LAKE KHANKA TO THE COAST._

Difficulties in prospect.--Appearance of the
country.--Vegetation.--Garden produce.--Medicinal
plants.--Ginseng.--Country almost uninhabited.--A serious
loss and its recovery.--Remarkable landscape.--Distribution
of animals in Siberia.--Little-Russian settlers.--Peasant
affairs and taxes.--Travelling by night.--Arrival at
Rasdolnoi.--Clerical functions in request.--War in the
post-house.--Summary of tract distribution.--Russia
as a field for Christian effort.--The Suifun.--Cheap
travelling.--Baptizing children.--Arrival at Vladivostock 688

CHAPTER LII.

_VLADIVOSTOCK._

Situation of town.--Lodged with Captain de Vries.--Chinese
labourers.--Chinese convicts.--Coreans.--Inhabitants of
Vladivostock.--Presented at the Governor’s house.--Admiral
Erdmann’s improvements.--Visit to barracks.--Boys’
high school.--Education in Russia, its cost and
method.--Vladivostock Girls’ Institute; and Free
School.--Statistics of crime.--Telegraph companies.--Sunday
services.--Protestantism in Siberia.--Village of
exiles.--General remarks on exiles.--Preparations for
departure 711

CHAPTER LIII.

_RUSSIANS AFLOAT._

Reflections on leaving Siberia.--Departure.--The Russian
navy.--The _Djiguitt_.--Seamen’s food, clothing,
work.--Relation between officers and men.--Received as
captain’s guest.--Progress.--Hospital arrangements.--Arrival
at Hakodate.--Divine service.--Religious professions
of seamen.--Inspection of ship.--A “strong
gale.”--Russian sentiments towards Englishmen.--Cause of
dislike.--Misrepresentations by English press.--Russian
writings.--Transhipped to American steamer.--Arrivals at San
Francisco and London 732

APPENDICES.

A. The History of the Russian Church 751

B. The Doctrines of the Russian, Roman, and English Churches 754

C. The Schisms of the Russian Church 756

D. The Discoveries of Wiggins and Nordenskiöld 761

E. The Early Exploration of Siberia by sea and land 766

F. The Author’s Itinerary round the World 770

G. Bibliography of Siberia, and List of Works consulted 772

INDEX 779

OBSERVANDA.

In proper names the letters should be pronounced as follows:--_A_ as
in f_a_ther; _e_ as in th_e_re; _i_ as in rav_i_ne; _o_ as in g_o_;
_u_ as in l_u_nar; and the diphthongs _ai_ and _ei_ as in h_i_de. The
consonants are pronounced as in English, save that _kh_ is guttural, as
in the Scotch lo_ch_.

The dates are given according to the English reckoning, being in
advance of the Russian by twelve days.

All temperatures are expressed according to the scale of Fahrenheit.

The ordinary paper rouble is reckoned at two shillings, its value at
the time of the Author’s visit; but before the Russo-Turkish war its
value was half-a-crown and upwards.

English weights and measures are to be understood unless otherwise
stated.

The Russian Arshin equals 28 inches English
” Sajen ” 7 feet ”
” Verst ” ⅔ mile ”
” Pound ” 14.43 ounces ”
” Pud (or Pood) ” 36 lbs. ”
” Rouble (or 100 Kopecks) ” 2 shillings ”
” _Silver_ rouble ” 3 ” ”

[Illustration: MAP OF SIBERIA, SHEWING THE AUTHORS ROUTE--3000 MILES BY
LAND AND 5000 BY WATER.]

THROUGH SIBERIA.

CHAPTER I.

_INTRODUCTORY._

Object of the journey.--Interest in prisons.--Visitation of prisons
in 1874.--Distribution of religious literature in Russia.--Tour
round Bothnian Gulf, 1876.--To Russo-Turkish war, 1877.--To
Archangel, 1878.--Origin of Siberian journey.--Alba Hellman
and her correspondence.--The way opened.--Projected efforts of
usefulness.--Books to be distributed.--Final resolve.

The object that took me through Siberia was of a philanthropic and
religious character; and before proceeding to a general description
of the country, I should like to acquaint the reader with the
circumstances that led me there. My interest in prisons dates from
a visit to Newgate jail in 1867, followed by others to prisons at
Winchester, Portland, Millbank, Dover, York, Exeter, Geneva, Guernsey,
and Edinburgh: but this interest amounted to little more than
curiosity. Two years later it took a practical turn. My summer holidays
up to that time had been spent on the principle, “Play when you play,
and work when you work,”--a proverb that is doubtless true, but which I
had not found entirely satisfactory. I was minded, therefore, to test
another saying, that “the way to be happy is to be useful,” and in 1874
was casting about as to how the principle could be applied to a tour of
five weeks through seven countries, not one of whose tongues I could
speak, when the visitation of continental prisons suggested itself,
and the distribution therein and elsewhere of suitable literature. The
Committee of the Religious Tract Society generously placed a supply at
my disposal, and in company with the Rev. J. P. Hobson, then curate of
Greenwich, I started for Russia _viâ_ Denmark, Sweden, and Finland,
intending to return through Poland, Austria, and Prussia. We saw the
prisons of Copenhagen and Stockholm, but they were well supplied with
books, and needed not our help; whereas, in the old castles used as
prisons at Åbo and Wiborg, our papers were thankfully accepted, and
in Russia quite a surprise awaited us. Without reason, I had feared
that perhaps the orthodox Russians would decline to receive books from
Protestants, as do the Romans. We found, however, that they would
accept such books as had been approved by the censor, and accordingly
we sent 2,000 pamphlets into the prisons of Petersburg, reserving a
third thousand for giving away on the railway to Moscow, not knowing
at that time that for such open distribution a permission is needed.
I can never forget the surprise of the people and their desire to get
the books. The peasants came and kissed our hands; the railway guards
directed to us the attention of the station-masters, who came to
receive our gifts. Priests took the books, and approved them; and many
who offered money in return were puzzled to see it declined. Our stock
was soon exhausted, and I determined some day to make a tour in Russia
to distribute on a larger scale.

In 1876 my holiday weeks were spent in a journey across Norway and
Sweden and round the Gulf of Bothnia. Twelve thousand tracts were
distributed, and visits made to prisons and hospitals, those of Finland
being found inadequately supplied with both Scriptures and other
books. On my return I brought this before the Committee of the Bible
Society, and asked for a copy of the Scriptures for every room in every
prison, and for each bed in every hospital, in all Finland. This they
kindly granted, so far as to offer to bear half the expense with the
Finnish Bible Society; and the plan, after some delay, was carried out.
Scriptures were also to be provided, at my request, for the Finnish
institutions for the deaf and dumb, and for the saloons of the steamers
plying on the Scandinavian coasts.

In 1877 Roumania and the seat of the Russo-Turkish war was chosen
for my holiday resort, with a view to being useful in the Russian
hospitals. But I was too early, and my vacation too short; so that
after visiting, on the outward trip, some of the prisons of Austria
and Hungary, I returned, doing the like through Servia, Sclavonia,
the Tyrol, Basle, and Paris. The mass of the prisoners were Roman
Catholics, for whom I do not remember a single case in which the
Scriptures were provided. Some of the authorities, however, said they
would accept them if sent, and I therefore asked the Bible Society
again for a liberal grant for the prisoners, the sick, and others of
the countries through which I had passed. They were willing to make the
grant, but the local agents reported many difficulties, and the result
fell short of my expectations.

In 1878, therefore, I resolved upon a change of tactics, to take my
ammunition with me, and carry out my cherished scheme for Russia.
Considerable difficulties, however, lay in the way. An Englishman,
unable to speak the language, going into the interior of Russia to
distribute books and pamphlets, in the year of the Berlin Congress,
towards the close of the war, would certainly not have been safe. No
amount of official papers and permissions would have kept him out of
the clutches of ignorant officials. It seemed necessary, therefore, to
take an interpreter; and as the transport of heavy luggage in Russia
is slow, and my books would accompany me as personal baggage, it was
clear that the cost would be a great increase to holiday expenses.
A generous friend, however, at this juncture, as also subsequently,
came to my aid; and in the month of June I trotted out of Petersburg
with about two waggonloads of books, a companion, an interpreter, and
a sufficiency of official letters. We went by rail through Moscow and
Jaroslav to Vologda, and thence by steamer on the Suchona and Dwina
to Archangel. We distributed everywhere,--to priests and people, in
prisons, hospitals, and monasteries, and created such a stir in some
of the small towns that people besieged our rooms by day, and even by
night. Our travel was necessarily so quick that we could not always
inform the police beforehand of what we were doing, and more than once
they came (as was their duty) to arrest us; but our encounters always
ended amicably, and we reached home after a happy six weeks’ tour,
extending over 5,500 miles, in the course of which we distributed
25,000 Scriptures and tracts. These experiences in some measure
prepared me for my longer journey in 1879, the origin of which was
somewhat remarkable.

When travelling round the Gulf of Bothnia in 1876, my steamer
unexpectedly stayed for a day at a town on the coast of Finland. I
was anxious to visit the hospital, and was inquiring about a horse,
when a passenger said she had friends in the town, who, she thought,
could render assistance. I went with her; and that simple incident
may be said to have originated my subsequent tour through the prisons
of Siberia; for it was followed by correspondence with a lady member
of the family to whom I was introduced, Miss Alba Hellman, who began
by modestly asking me, chiefly because I was an Englishman and the
only one she knew, whether I could not do something for the welfare
of the Siberian exiles. I confess that at first I thought this the
most extraordinary request ever put to me, and it seemed too great an
undertaking even to be thought of. Already immersed in work, regular
and self-imposed, I had no time or means for such an undertaking; and
if the money were forthcoming, who would go? Another question, too,
arose: Would the Russian Government allow anything to be done?

The case of my Finnish correspondent, however, was a touching one.
When in health she had been wont, like Elizabeth Fry, but on a smaller
scale, to spend part of her time in visiting prisoners. Now, acute
heart disease forbade such visits, and even compelled her to sleep in
a sitting posture, so that for 2,068 nights, or nearly seven years,
she never went to bed. My coming to Finland, visiting prisons, had
awakened memories of her former work, and she set herself, after my
departure, to write me a letter in English. She had had only a few
lessons in this language when a girl; but, possessing a Swedish and
English New Testament in parallel columns, and a dictionary, she set
herself, with an industry and patience almost incredible, to find
clauses and expressions that conveyed her meaning in Swedish, and then
to copy their English equivalents, her letter ending, for example,
“Here are many faults, but I pray you have me excused.” The force of
her language, however, was unmistakable, thus: “You (English) have sent
missionarys round the all world, to China, Persia, Palestina, Africa,
the Islands of Sandwich, to many places of the Continent of Europe; but
to the great, great Siberia, where so much is to do, you not have sent
missionarys. Have you not a Morrison, a Moffatt, for Siberia? Pastor
Lansdell, go you yourself to Siberia!”

What, then, could I say to this? To have spoken the real language of my
thoughts would have been cruel. So I thought to shelve the question by
returning an oracular answer, that “the letter contained much that was
interesting, and that I would think the matter over.” My correspondent,
however, was not to be discouraged, and wrote another letter, giving
further information concerning Siberia, and drawing a gloomy picture
of the religious condition of the natives and exiles. Others followed,
and at last I began to think that, after all, the project was not quite
so unfeasible as it first appeared to be. My generous friend, who
had read the letters and was interested, both urged me on and again
offered help; and when it was determined that I should leave a clerical
appointment I had held for ten easy and happy years, I resolved, in
the absence of another suitable post presenting itself, at once to
“rough it” for a summer in the wilds of Asiatic Russia.

But what could I do towards the object my friend had at heart?
Ignorance of the Russian language and of the Siberian dialects would
prevent my speaking to the people. I might, however, visit prisons,
hospitals, and mines, and at least provide them with the Scriptures
in various languages, and with books, as in previous holidays. When
travelling in the Russian interior in 1878, persons were met with who
had never seen a complete New Testament, and I reasoned that a general
distribution of such books in Siberia, whether by sale or gift, would
be doubly useful, besides which I meant to be on the look-out for such
other opportunities of usefulness as might present themselves and be
allowed me.

But what were the books you were to give away? and how is it that you
were allowed to distribute them? are questions that have often been
asked with surprise. An answer to the first will prepare the way for
the second. The Scriptures included the four Gospels, the Book of
Psalms, and the New Testament. These were for the most part in Russian;
but there were a few copies in Polish, French, German, and Tatar, with
certain portions of the Old Testament for the Buriats in Mongolian, and
for the Jews in Hebrew. Besides these Scriptures there were copies of
the _Rooski Rabotchi_, an adapted reprint in Russian of the _British
Workman_, full of pictures, and well suited to the masses; also a large
well-executed engraving, with the story written around, of the parable
of the Prodigal Son, together with broad-sheets suitable for hospital
walls, and thousands of Russian tracts. The Scriptures were printed
for the Bible Society by the Holy Synod, and the tracts had passed
the censor’s hands. All was therefore in order, and before going to
Archangel I had received a permanent legitimation to distribute, duly
endorsed by the police.

So far, therefore, things in England looked promising for Siberia, but
the way thither was by no means clear. In April, 1879, the plague was
said to be raging in Russia, and towards the end of that month came
one of the attempts on the late Emperor’s life. This led to Petersburg
being placed in a state of siege, and few of my friends felicitated me
on my intention to go thither. Some thought I should not obtain the
required permissions for Siberia, and advised accordingly. But having
always before succeeded through the courtesy of the Russians in getting
what I asked, I resolved to be deaf as an adder to everything short of
a denial at the capital from the lips of the authorities, and, being
thus resolved, I set out on my journey.

CHAPTER II.

_ACROSS EUROPE._

On Wednesday morning, 30th April, 1879, I left London, and reached
Petersburg on the following Saturday evening, to find at my hotel a
pleasant welcome in the shape of an invitation to breakfast with Lord
Dufferin on the Monday morning. This was due to letters with which
I had been favoured from high quarters in England, and one result
of which, thanks to the kindness of the British Ambassador, was an
introductory letter to M. Makoff, the Minister of the Interior, which I
presented to his Excellency on Tuesday. Whilst waiting in the ante-room
with other suitors, there was time for cogitation as to what the
answer might be. My Petersburg friends gave me small hope of success;
on the contrary, one of them, high in authority, who had helped me
before, had gone so far as to say, “Why, it is not likely that, with
so many political prisoners therein, they will allow him to go through
the prisons of Siberia now.” I drew encouragement, however, from the
fact that a ministerial letter had been given me the previous year,
which I thought would be registered in the archives, and, trusting
there was on it nothing against me, I hoped that this would be in my
favour. At length, when I was ushered into the Minister’s presence, he
scarcely looked at the Ambassador’s letter, but referred to my having
had the document the previous year, and said at once that there was no
objection to my having another; upon which, flushed with success, I
bowed and retired.

This emboldened me to go to another dignitary, and, having a friend to
interpret, I went straight from the Minister to the new Metropolitan
of Moscow, to present a letter from the Archbishop of Canterbury,
addressed “To the Metropolitans of the Church of Russia, or others whom
it may concern.” His Eminence appeared in a brown silk moiré-antique
robe, glittering with jewelled decorations, and wearing as is usual
the white crape hat of a metropolitan, with a diamond cross in front.
He stood on little ceremony, and, almost before I had made my bow, he
shook my hand, gave me a fraternal kiss on either cheek, and motioned
me to a seat beside him. He then entered with zest into my scheme for
distributing the Scriptures, said that the Russians had not the means
to perform all they would, and commended the English for what they were
doing. He asked a few questions relative to Church matters in England,
regretted that we had no language in common in which we could converse,
and then cordially wished me God speed.

I had thus made an excellent beginning. The next thing to be done
was to get additional introductions, and this I tried to do so as
to find my way amongst various classes of people. A letter from Mr.
Glaisher, the aeronaut, and formerly of the Greenwich Observatory,
opened the way for me to scientific people, more especially those
taking meteorological observations in European and Asiatic Russia; an
introduction from a German pastor brought me into contact with the
educational world through Mr. Maack, the late General-Inspector of
Schools for Eastern Siberia; a third and a fourth introduction procured
letters to the Finns and the German pastors throughout Siberia; and a
fifth to the telegraph officers, most of whom speak English, French, or
German. Messrs. Egerton Hubbard took me under their wing, and kindly
arranged to forward money and letters; and I had various mercantile
introductions, together with several of a social character, to persons
of different standing, from the Governors-General of Siberia downwards.
All told, my introductions, as far as Kiakhta, numbered 133. It is,
however, a traveller’s axiom that, “Of good introductions, store is no
sore,” and many of mine proved to be worth their weight in gold.

My Petersburg friends were delighted at the Minister’s reply, and, as
the sun was shining, they determined to make their hay. They urged
me to take still more books--5,000 additional pamphlets of one kind,
especially suited for schools; and this notwithstanding that upwards
of 25,000 of a miscellaneous character had already been forwarded by
slow transit to the Urals. My willingness, however, was limited only
by my capabilities of carriage, and, accordingly, as many more books
were taken as, together with my personal baggage and those gone before,
would fill three Russian post waggons; and this I thought would be
about as many as, under the circumstances, it was possible for me to
take.

After a busy stay of nine days in the Russian capital, I left for
Moscow on the afternoon of Monday, the 12th of May, and arrived the
following morning. The only business that detained me there was to
inquire of some ladies, who devote themselves to work among the
prisoners, how many and what books they were distributing among the
exiles, so that I might not do their work over again. I found, however,
that their labours were directed more especially to the temporal
good of the prisoners--looking after their wives, placing out their
children, finding them clothes, and such like useful works, rather than
seeking directly their spiritual good, though this had to some extent
been attempted by lending and occasionally giving them books to read in
the prison. Accordingly, I left Moscow by rail on Wednesday evening, to
arrive after thirteen hours at Nijni Novgorod, on the Volga.

May is not a good time to see this famous place. The river overflows
its banks in spring to a depth of several feet, and covers the site
of the wonderful fair, in anticipation of which the lower storeys of
the warehouses and buildings are cleared; and to cleanse them before
July is one of the first things to be done by the owners, who with
their goods arrive yearly from all parts of the world. I was rowed in
a boat through the streets (which are called after the names of the
merchandise sold therein) to see the Chinese quarter, with pagoda-like
buildings; the Persian quarter, the two cathedrals, the theatre, the
Governor’s house, etc., all of which are used only during the fair,
and were now empty. The nearest approach to a fair that I saw was a
gathering near the entrance to the Kremlin, where were men standing
with their stock-in-trade in their hands or slung over their
shoulders--one with a pair of boots, another with a shirt, and a third
with a pair of trousers or other garments, and for which each was ready
to bargain and chaffer. Hitherto I had travelled alone. I now stayed at
Nijni Novgorod to be joined by a young man who was to be my companion
and interpreter, and then, leaving by steamer on Friday at mid-day, we
reached Kasan early on Saturday morning, there to spend Sunday, the
18th of May.

[Illustration: THE NICHOLAS GATE, MOSCOW.]

The covered heads and veiled faces of the women, together with the
tawny porters carrying their huge burdens, speedily reminded us that we
had reached an ancient Tatar city. The only tourists’ lion we visited
was Mr. Lichatcheff’s collection of Bulgarian antiquities. He very
kindly and politely showed us through the rooms of his house, which
were crammed with curiosities. Among them were rude implements of the
stone age, ancient oriental lamps, and ancient crosses, one of which,
dating from the eleventh or twelfth century, was without the foot-piece
now found on the Russian cross, which foot-piece, our informant
considered, was not used on Russian crosses in the earliest times.
There were also some stone Byzantine crosses. The Bulgarian antiquities
had been found on the banks of the Volga, showing the location of that
people before their migration further south.

Another point of interest in Kasan must not be passed over. I had
supposed that heathen rites and practices were now in Europe a thing of
the past. We heard, however, of five nationalities scattered through
Russia, but found more, especially in the Kasan government, who, though
nominally Christian, still resort to idolatrous superstitions. They
are called Tcheremisi, Mordvar, Vodeki, Tchuvashi, and Tatars; and the
Russian Government is adopting means for their enlightenment by taking
peasant boys from among them, and training them for schoolmasters and
priests. A seminary devoted to this purpose, situated near the Tatar
quarter of the town, was shown to us by the principal, Professor
Ilminski.[1]

In or near the Bishop’s house in the Kremlin we were introduced to
Mr. Zoloneetski, who trains young men to be mission priests to the
nationalities whence they have been brought. In 1878 he had twenty-one
students, some of them from the seminary just mentioned. He gives them
lectures on aboriginal languages, customs, and superstitions, and
shows them how to bring the natives to Christianity. This he does in
part by exposing various idolatrous objects, of which he has a curious
collection. Among them was a Tchuvash idol, consisting of a block of
wood, to which pieces of cloth were brought as offerings. This had
been used less than ten years before. Another piece of superstition
came from the Tcheremisi,[2] and was less than twelve months old.
There was also to be seen a rudely-cut box containing coins. Some of
them were ancient, but were supposed to have been offered recently by
Tatars, nominally Christian. It would seem that a Tatar sometimes makes
a vow to the spirit of the forest to dedicate a horse, cow, or some
other animal; but not having a victim, or not having it to spare at the
time, he leaves money as a pledge of good faith, and then, when able to
fulfil his vow, reclaims his coin.

Some of these objects had been obtained through friends and some
by fraud, but there was a curious story connected with the boxes.
A missionary priest (a friend of our informant), knowing of their
existence, went to a family in his parish, and asked if he might take
away their idolatrous things. They answered at first in the negative;
but, after he had left the house, a woman came out to draw water,
and told him she thought it would be much better if he would _steal_
the things, for then they would have less money to bring and fewer
prayers to say. The priest, therefore, returned at night, when the
family pretended to be soundly asleep (so that the spirit might not be
offended with what took place whilst they were unconscious), mounted
the loft, took the things, and subsequently gave them to our informant.

We quitted Kasan on Monday morning in one of Lubimoff’s steamers, and,
after proceeding two or three hours down the Volga, left that river
to finish its career of 2,200 miles, whilst we turned into one of its
affluents, the Kama, which is no mean river in itself, having a course
of 1,400 miles. The junction of the two streams presents a fine expanse
of water, but the banks are too flat to be pretty. Steamboat travelling
in Russia is not expensive, the first-class fare from Nijni Novgorod to
Perm, a four days’ journey, being only 36_s._

After a voyage of three days and a half from Kasan we reached Perm,
where the people were in great excitement consequent on the burning of
two “quartals,” or large blocks of buildings. The roofs and houses of
the town were described as being covered, during the previous night,
with women, watching lest sparks should fall on their property, whilst
their husbands helped to extinguish the fire; and so great was the fear
of a general conflagration, that some sent their wives and families
into the neighbouring villages. Others we saw encamped by the bank of
the river, whilst on a grass plot near a church were others tired out
and fast asleep beside the chattels they had rescued. Not long before,
Orenburg and Irbit had been burnt, and were supposed by some to have
been wilfully set on fire, and so excited were the inhabitants of
Perm, and so ready to snap up persons at all suspected, that we were
cautioned, as being strangers, to walk in the middle of the road. We
then visited the hospital, saw the Governor, and left some books for
the Perm institutions; but I was reserving my strength for Siberia, and
the same evening the train was to carry us to the top of the Urals.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] The Government provides support for 150 scholars, half of whom
are Russians, and the remaining half are from the five nationalities
already mentioned. They have no difficulty in procuring the requisite
number of scholars. Such as can say their small Russian catechism
intelligently are received, and kept for three years as pupil-teachers,
at the expiration of which time they serve the Government for six years
by way of return for their education, and receive salaries of from
twelve to thirty pounds a year. A New Testament, we found (but not the
Bible), is provided for each youth in the higher classes.

[2] Their worship was thus described: The priest takes in one hand a
piece of burning wood, and in the other a branch (such as we saw, and
on which the leaves were still green, though dry), and then walks in
a circle, the area of which is thus, for the time being, consecrated
for worship. Then he fastens round a tree a withe, and sticks therein
a branch with the bark peeled something like a whip, which is supposed
to represent a fir-tree; on this is hung a piece of lead, previously
melted, poured into cold water, and molten so as to form roughly
the figure of a head, which is called an _eeta_. Towards this they
afterwards say their prayers. The priest kills the victim, which may be
a horse, a cow, a chicken, a duck, etc., and sprinkles the blood on the
tree and the withe. (The blood was yet visible on the one we saw.) Then
they proceed to peel or chip pieces of wood, making them fly off in the
direction of the tree; and according as the chips fall, with the bark
or the white side upwards, so they divine an answer to their prayer.
The branch we saw was brought away by a friend of our informant just
after the offering.

CHAPTER III

_THE URALS TO TIUMEN._

Those who have hitherto written of journeys to Siberia have told of
a dismal drive from Perm to Ekaterineburg; but this misfortune did
not fall to our lot, since in the autumn of 1878 a railway was opened
over the mountains, and the journey is now accomplished in about
four-and-twenty hours. The distance is 312 miles, and between the two
termini are about 30 stations.[1]

From the prominence given in maps of Europe to the Ural chain, one
is apt from childhood to expect in these mountains something grand.
The entire length of the range, including its continuation in Novaia
Zemlia, is about 1,700 miles. Its highest peak, however, does not
attain to more than 6,000 feet, and many parts of the range are not
more than 2,000 feet above the sea level. No part of it is permanently
covered with snow. Travellers by the old route describe, in passing
it, a never-failing object of interest on the frontier in the shape
of a stone, on one side of which is written “Europe” and on the other
“Asia,” across which, of course, an English boy would stride, and
announce that he had stood in two quarters of the globe at once.
Travellers by the new route miss this opportunity; but they have its
equivalent in three border stations, one of which is called “_Europa_,”
the next “_Ural_,” and the third “_Asia_,” through which those who have
journeyed can say what no other travellers can, that they have passed
by rail from one quarter of the globe into another.

Thus the ease with which one reaches the summit of the Urals is
somewhat disappointing, but no such thoughts are suggested by an
outlook into the immense country that now lies before the traveller.
There stretches far before him a region known as Russia in Asia, the
dimensions of which are very hard for the mind to realize. It measures
4,000 miles from east to west, about 2,000 from north to south, and
covers nearly five and three-quarter millions of square miles. It is
larger by two millions of square miles than the whole of Europe; about
twice as big as Australia, and nearly one hundred times as large as
England.

The general aspect of the surface may be easily described. The Altai
range of mountains, with its offshoots to the east, forms the general
features of the southern boundary, and from these heights the land
gradually slopes towards the northern _tundras_ or bogs, which extend
to the frozen ocean. The country is intersected by three of the largest
rivers in the world, the Obi, the Yenesei, and the Lena, not one of
which is much less than 3,000 miles long, and all of them, through
great part of the year, flow under masses of ice to the Arctic Ocean.
A fourth river, the Amur, rising in the Yablonoi mountains, which may
be regarded as a part of the eastern slopes of the Altai chain, runs a
course also of more than 2,000 miles, but takes an easterly direction,
forming part of the southern boundary of the country, and empties
itself into the Gulf of Tartary.

The country largely consists of immense steppes, marshes, and pools.
Lakes, properly so called, are not numerous, but the greatest of them,
the “Baikal,” is in some respects the most remarkable in the world.
No less remarkable is the great variety of the inhabitants. They are
sometimes classified into five typical races: _Sclavonic_ (including
Russians and Poles); _Finnish_ (including Finns, Voguls, Ostjaks,
Samoyedes, Yuraki); _Turkish_ (including Tatars, Kirghese, Kalmuks,
Yakutes); _Mongolian_ (including Manchu, Buriats, and Tunguses--the
last of various denominations); and _Chinese_, with whom may be
classed, though not very accurately, the Gilyaks and Aïnos. In fact,
an ethnographical map of Asiatic Russia I bought at Petersburg shows
therein no less than 30 peoples or nations.[2]

Many of them, it is true, are but feebly represented, for the entire
population does not number more inhabitants than are to be found in
seven of the counties of England, and they have not enough men and
women in Russian Asia to put one of each in every square mile, whereas
every square mile of the seven English counties alluded to has on an
average 573 inhabitants. It is difficult to give exact statistics,
because, from the wandering life led by many of the aborigines, it
is impossible to ascertain their number, and so authorities differ;
but the total population, including Russians, is estimated at
about 8,000,000. Our attention, however, is to be chiefly confined
to Siberia, and it should not be forgotten that Siberia is not
co-extensive with the whole of Asiatic Russia, and does not begin,
properly speaking, till Ekaterineburg is passed. We have been merely
taking a look, from the government of Perm, out of European into
Asiatic Russia; this government, as also that of Orenburg, lying partly
in Europe and partly in Asia.

Before descending to the foot of the Urals, we arrive at Nijni Tagilsk.
At this place we halted for a day to look over the famous Demidoff
mines and works. There had been a fire in the town, as at Perm, on the
night preceding our arrival; and in seven hours 78 houses had been
burnt. Pieces of smoking wood were still flying about. The common
people, as before, attributed the fire to incendiaries, such as escaped
prisoners, who hoped to profit by the turmoil, and find an occasion
for plunder; but more thoughtful people traced it to accidental
causes. Demidoff’s workmen had been called out at night to assist as
firemen, and were in consequence resting. We could not, therefore,
see everything in motion, but enough was visible to make it clear
that they were carrying on enormous metallurgical operations. One of
the remarkable things to be noticed was a surface mine of magnetic
iron ore, blasted and dug out in terraces, carted down by horses and
taken to the furnace, where the ore proves so rich that it yields 68
per cent. of iron. We also descended a copper-mine, the mineral from
which yields 5 per cent. of metal. We were dressed for the occasion
in top-boots, leather hats, and appropriate blouses and trousers,
each carrying a lamp, and thus by ladders we descended one shaft of
600 feet and came up another, the water meanwhile trickling upon us
freely. At the bottom of the mine they were erecting an English machine
for pumping 80 cubic feet of water per minute to the surface. In the
engine-room two men at a time spend eight hours daily, for which they
each receive in money about fifteen pence. We promised ourselves,
as a great feature in the descent of the copper-mine, the seeing of
malachite in its natural state, and we were not disappointed. The
captain took us through long galleries of timber beams, and then to
the spots where the miners had been working. Here, by the light of our
lamps, the pieces of green mineral could be clearly seen, and we had
the pleasure of digging them out with a pick, and bringing them away
as specimens. The price of malachite at the mine is six shillings a
Russian pound, if in moderate-sized pieces; twenty shillings when the
lumps are large, but only two shillings if they are small.

Besides these copper and magnetic iron mines, they have others of
manganese iron ore, which contains 64 per cent. of binoxide of
manganese, the peroxide being sold at the rate of about eighteen
shillings per hundredweight. Specimens of these and other minerals of
great interest to the geologist are exhibited in a museum not far from
the works.

Among the remarkable things to be seen at these hives of industry
were--a machine for drawing water by a cord from a copper-mine two
miles off, a steam-hammer of seven tons weight, an iron furnace of
10,000 cubic feet dimensions, said to be the largest high furnace for
_wood_ in the world, and a machine for splitting their fuel wood, of
which they burn annually 100,000 _sajens_--that is to say, a 325 feet
cube, or, roughly speaking, a pile of logs twice as big as St. Paul’s
Cathedral.[3]

They make steel for Sheffield, and can do castings up to more than 30
tons in weight. Their iron is excelled in quality, I believe, only
by that of Dannemora. They have 11 _zavods_, or “works,” of which
eight are connected with iron. But perhaps a better idea can be formed
of their vastness by the mention of the number of persons employed,
which amounts to 30,000. I heard also 40,000, and both numbers were
from heads of departments; but probably the latter estimate includes
carters, labourers, and perhaps even women. The Demidoffs pay annually,
by way of rates and taxes--to the Commune, £5,000; the Church, £1,500;
schools, £2,500; poor and aged, £3,000; together with other sums,
amounting in all to about £20,000 a year. Wages, as compared with those
in England, appeared low. Common workmen receive from 7½_d._ to 1_s._
a day, puddlers 3_s._, and those in the welding furnace 4_s._, whilst
good rollers receive from 3_s._ 6_d._ to 6_s._ It should be observed,
however, that they all have houses rent free, with the piece of land
they formerly occupied as serfs.

Before the emancipation, the riches of the Demidoffs were counted in
the phrase then usual in Russia as amounting to 56,000 souls.[4] A
small church, built on the crest of a neighbouring hill, was pointed
out as having been built by the serfs in memory of their freedom; and
I was glad to hear from the director, Mr. Wohlstadt (by whom we were
courteously entertained), that since the emancipation the men work
better and better, knowing, I presume, when serfs, that idleness would
be repaid with something not much worse than a beating; whereas now
they know they may be discharged.

We slept at the club; and in the morning, before leaving, visited the
Demidoff hospital, upon which, and upon institutions of a similar kind,
the proprietors spend nearly £4,000 a year. The dimensions of the rooms
were such as to allow of three cubic _sajens_, or 1,200 cubic feet, of
air for each of the patients, of whom there were 120 at the time of
our visit. Many fractured and amputated limbs were seen dressed with
gypsum, alcohol, and camphor; but the most extraordinary thing was a
machine in the director’s private room, in which he placed frozen human
brains, and for scientific purposes cut them in very thin slices to
photograph. The photographs are to be purchased in Paris.

On leaving Tagil we found the temperature much colder,[5] and our
journey to Ekaterineburg was somewhat comfortless, from the fact that,
anticipating no more cold weather, the officials had not brought in the
train the apparatus for heating by steam. At Ekaterineburg I finished
railway journeys, amounting to 2,670 miles; and as I was now to bid
farewell to the horse of iron and travel by horses of flesh, it is
only right to say that of the iron horses which took me across Europe
the Russian on the whole was, I think, the best.[6] Our arrival at
Ekaterineburg on Saturday evening was expected, and quarters were
provided for me through the kindness of Messrs. Egerton Hubbard.
Ekaterineburg is a handsome town of 30,000 inhabitants, and has many
fine churches and other buildings. On Sunday I visited the hospital,
and also an orphanage for 100 children, which has been built and is
supported by local voluntary effort. This kind of institution is not
yet very common among the Russians. It was regarded as a novelty, and
was the only one of its precise kind that we saw in Asia.

Formerly there were several Englishmen living at Ekaterineburg, but
a few only are now left, and so little practice do they have in the
tongue of their fathers that some of them are rapidly forgetting it.
Instances of this were met with further east, and another case in which
English parents were allowing their children to grow up speaking only
Russian, the result of which would be that the son who had been sent
for his education to England would forget Russian, and, on coming back
to Siberia, would not be able to speak to his sister who had not learnt
English.

Ekaterineburg is a famous place for the cutting of precious stones, in
which Siberia is rich. Near the river Argun are found the jacinth, the
Siberian emerald, the onyx, and beautiful jaspers, of which there are
at least a hundred varieties. Near Lake Baikal are found red garnets
and lapis lazuli, and the Altai mountains furnish the opal. Several
of these are also found near Ekaterineburg, together with the beryl,
the topaz, the chrysolite, the aqua marine, the tourmaline, rhodonite,
nephrite, ophite, selenite, and the recently-discovered Alexandrite,
which exhibits two colors--crimson and green--the one by day and the
other by night. The stone derives its name from the Emperor Alexander,
whose colours it shows. These stones are cut in the Government
workshops and in private houses, and may be purchased at moderate
prices.

South of Ekaterineburg, towards Orenburg, are villages where may be
purchased uncommon souvenirs in the shape of gentlemen’s scarves and
gloves, together with _kozy pookh_, or, as they are more commonly
called, Orenburg shawls. They are made from the wool of the goats of
the Kirghese, who allow the Cossacks to comb their flocks at the rate
of from eight-pence to a shilling per head. Twice a year the goats
are washed and combed, first with a coarse and then with a fine comb.
To make a good shawl employs a woman six months, and then, if it be a
large one, it sells at first hand for about fifty shillings; but very
much higher prices are asked in Petersburg.

We stayed three days at Ekaterineburg to lay in provisions and gather
our forces for proceeding by horses. The greater part of my heavy
luggage had been dispatched by slow train to Ekaterineburg fully a
month before me, but it did not reach its destination till the day
after my arrival. The agent said it might have been waiting on the
road for the chance of other goods to make up a load. A tarantass had
been very kindly placed at my disposal by Mr. Oswald Cattley, whose
name, some time since, was before the public in connection with the
opening up of a new trade on the Obi; and in this we packed ourselves
and some of our personal baggage, placing the rest with several boxes
in a second conveyance, and leaving still a third load of boxes to
be forwarded as luggage. In this fashion, after receiving all sorts
of kindness and hospitality from our English friends, we started on
Tuesday evening, May 27th, for Tiumen, a distance of 204 miles, which
was accomplished in 43 continuous hours.

Tiumen is situated on the Tura, and has a population of from 15,000 to
20,000 inhabitants. Commercially speaking, it is the most important
town in Western Siberia, and through it pass the water carriage of the
Obi, as well as the caravans coming from China and the East. Here we
found an English engineering firm, conducted by Messrs. Wardropper,
who were particularly kind to us. To Tiumen all the exiles are brought
from Europe, and from thence are distributed over Siberia. I needed
not, therefore, the eye of a general to see that, for my purpose of
distributing books over the land, this was the key to a very important
position. It was desirable, therefore, that I should see some of the
magnates of the town who were members of the prison committee, and, if
possible, secure their sympathy and co-operation.

Accordingly I was taken to visit the Mayor, who was building a large
commercial school for the benefit of the town, at a cost of more than
£20,000, which, when finished, was to be handed over to the Government.
He is a merchant who has made his way to the front, and now entertains
the Governor-General when he passes through, though otherwise he lives
quietly. His house, when we called, was in preparation for one of those
viceregal receptions, and, knowing that his worship was rich, I busied
myself, during the Russian conversation, in scanning what I supposed
might be considered appropriate study furniture for a wealthy Siberian.
The Mayor, I had heard, was fond of good horses, which accounted for
the winner-of-the-Derby-like engravings hanging on the wall, the whole
of which might have been purchased, I judged, in London for twenty
shillings. The room, as is the custom of the country, was not carpeted,
and the furniture consisted of a bare, polished, wooden bench, bored
with holes, in patterns after the fashion of American street cars. The
chairs were of wood, similarly ornamented. The table had about it some
fretwork, and on it various writing materials, and accompaniments more
or less artistic. I mentally appraised the whole as being worth about
£20, and admired the simplicity of a man who could be content with a
study thus furnished, whilst he was giving away a thousand times its
value. My cogitations served to recall what had struck me in Norway and
Sweden, when observing how much simpler, as regards furniture, people
are content to live in these northern countries than in England, though
I did not discern that they were less happy than we are. After leaving
the house, I broached the subject approvingly to my friend who was with
me, upon which I found that I had undervalued the furniture, and that
it was of American manufacture, and the first of the kind imported into
the town.

I was taken also to call upon a prominent member of the prison
committee, Mr. Ignatoff, of the firm of Kourbatoff and Ignatoff. They
have steamers on the Kama and Obi, and hold the Government contract
for the transport in barges of exiles. He was much interested in my
scheme of visiting prisons, and was so pleased with my account of the
Howard Association in London, of which I said I was a member, and which
had for its object the prevention of crime and promoting the best
methods for the treatment and reformation of prisoners, that he spoke
of asking to be allowed at once to join the Association.[7] He kindly
undertook to do all he could to further the distribution of the books I
engaged to send to him; and I was glad to have called, not only for the
information obtained, but for the interest excited, though I was hardly
prepared for the very practical and generous form which this interest
took, which will be hereafter alluded to.

We called afterwards on the Ispravnik, or chief man of the district,
and presented my letter, with the view of visiting the prisons. I
heard that in his district there were 24 schools, and, having made
arrangements for providing them with tracts, I went to see the prison.
From statistics given me for the previous year, it appeared that a
total of 20,711 prisoners passed through the hands of the authorities
in 1878.[8] This opens up the whole subject of prisons and exiles,
which is to form a leading feature of these pages, and therefore I
think it will be better to devote separate chapters to both, in which
general ideas can be given. This will save repetition, and it will then
be easy to illustrate general principles by particular incidents as we
meet them from time to time in travelling and visiting prisons from the
Urals to the Pacific.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Of the three divisions, the Northern or barren Ural, as the
Russians call it, beginning at the source of the Pechora, is the most
elevated and the least known. The Southern Ural begins about midway
between Perm and Orenburg, and descends to the banks of the Ural river.
It is a pastoral country, and about 100 miles in width. The range is
here less than 3,000 feet in height. The central Ural may be considered
as a wide undulation, beginning on the west on the banks of the Kama.
Perm, situated on the right bank of the river, is 378 feet above the
sea level, and on the post road to Ekaterineburg the highest point is
1,638 feet, which, if my reckoning is correct, is 40 feet less than the
highest station on the railway. I set my aneroid at Perm, and found
that at the fourth station, Seleenka, a distance of 172 miles, we
had mounted 470 feet; the next 22 miles brought us down again to 120
feet, after which for 60 miles we continued to ascend to Bisir, which
registered 1,300 feet above Perm, and was the highest station on the
road. Level ground succeeded for about 30 miles to the border station,
after which in 50 miles we descended 750 feet to Shaitanka, 10 miles
beyond which we had remounted 200 feet; and on this level we kept to
Iset, the last station but one. The road then descended about 150 feet
to Ekaterineburg, which is said to be 858 feet above the sea level.

[2] 1. Slavs.
2. Zeryani.
3. Voguls.
4. Votyaks.
5. Tatars.
6. Kirghese of little horde.
7. Kirghese of middle horde.
8. Kirghese of great horde.
9. Buruti Kirghese.
10. Karakalpaks.
11. Sarti.
12. Uzbeki.
13. Turks.
14. Altai Kalmuks.
15. Teleuti.
16. Ostjaks.
17. Samoyedes.
18. Yuraki.
19. Yakutes.
20. Tunguse.
21. Goldi.
22. Gilyaks.
23. Yukagirs.
24. Chukchees.
25. Koriaks.
26. Kamchatdales.
27. Aïnos.
28. Buriats.
29. Manchu.
30. Chinese.

[3] What extent of land must be cleared to furnish such a quantity of
fuel I know not, but the railways of Central Russia are said to consume
yearly the timber off 90,000 acres of forest--an area, that is, about
the size of Rutlandshire.

[4] That is, men, or at least _males_; for I am told that male children
are called “souls,” but female children never. An English lady of my
acquaintance informs me that she was told scores of times in Russia
that she was not a _doash_, or soul, but only a woman; and when her son
was born she was congratulated on being the mother of a soul!

[5] Concerning the weather in crossing Europe, I may say that, from
the Russian frontier to the capital, on the 2nd and 3rd of May, a fire
was provided in the railway carriage, and on approaching Petersburg
there was just a little snow left here and there in drifts. On the 4th
the last of the ice was floating down the Neva. In less than a week it
became positively hot in the middle of the day, and the trees opened
their foliage rapidly. At Nijni Novgorod, on the 15th, the foliage was
all but full. On the banks of the Kama the trees were covered with
leaves, which the captain of the steamer said had come out within the
previous five days; and on the 20th, when stopping for wood, some of
the passengers found strawberry blossoms and violets. Fine weather then
continued up to the 23rd.

[6] The new first-class carriages running between Petersburg and Moscow
have _fauteuils_, which form couches at night; and one I saw was so
fixed on springs as to furnish almost the softness of a feather-bed.
They have also writing tables, and are more luxurious than anything
I have seen elsewhere in Europe, or even America. The lavatory
arrangements “on board” in all three classes are exceedingly good.
There only lacks the receptacle for iced water provided in Norway,
and, perhaps, the dining cars run in America, to make Russian railway
accommodation perfect. The guards, it is true, are somewhat pompous
as compared with the English, and the speed of the trains is slower;
but, on the other hand, the refreshments are very much better, and the
prices more reasonable. There is time allowed, moreover, to eat them,
though I am thinking more especially of the line between the capital
and Moscow, which is naturally one of the best.

[7] He had made private notes concerning the exiles, of which it
appeared that, during the last ten years, from 9,500 to 10,500 yearly
had passed through his hands. Of these there were adults about
9,000; under 15, 1,500; and under 2 years of age, 150. About 3,000,
he thought, could read. The professors of various religious beliefs
prevailed, he said in decreasing numbers, in the following order: (1)
Orthodox Russian, (2) Mohammedan, (3) Jewish, (4) Roman Catholic, (5)
Protestant. Drunkenness, he believed, was directly or indirectly the
cause of the crimes of half of the whole number sent to Siberia, and
these were found to be the worst prisoners and the most troublesome.
He looked forward, therefore, with pleasure to the expected and now
long-waited-for prison reforms, one of which, it was said, would be the
sending no more exiles to the western part of Siberia.

[8] One-fourth of these (4,995) were women, and 215 were _local_
offenders, of whom 10 were women and 3 were minors. In the course of
the year were located in the Town Prison 157 men and 5 women; in the
Police Prison 4 men, and in the Central Prison for exiles 15,111 men
and 4,985 women.

CHAPTER IV.

_THE EXILES._

Reasons for and history of deportation to Siberia.--Number
of exiles.--Their education.--Crimes.--Sentences.--Loss
of rights.--Privileges.--Proportion of hard-labour
convicts.--Where located.--Release.--Escapes.--Causes and
methods of flight.--Transport.--A convoy of exiles.--Moscow
charity.--Conveyance to Perm and Tiumen.--Their
distribution.--Order of march.--Sea-borne exiles.--Mistakes of
English newspapers.--Conveyance of political exiles.

In dealing with criminals, the Russian Government has to act as best
it can for the good of the community in general. If, in particular
cases, it seems likely that the criminal may be reformed, he is sent
to one of the prisons or houses of correction at home; but if, on the
other hand, the crime of the malefactor demands a severe punishment,
and, after repeated correction, he seems to be incorrigible, then he
is banished to Siberia, the people being thus rid of a corrupting
member of society, whilst another unit is sent to assist in developing
the resources of a large territory of the Russian empire, which has
great need of population. This, I presume, is the theory, or part of
it, of the deportation of prisoners to distant parts of the empire.[1]
The number of ordinary exiles sent to Siberia for several years
past has been from 17,000 to 20,000 per annum; but this includes
wives and children who choose to accompany the prisoners. Of these
nearly 8,000, on their arrival in Siberia, are set free to get their
own living; about 3,000 of them being sent to Eastern and 5,000 to
Western Siberia. The exiles come from all parts of Russia in Europe,
and include about 300 a year from Finland. In 1879 there were 898
sent from Poland. Some idea may be formed of the education of the
exiles from the fact that on the day we visited Tiumen prison there
were, out of 470 prisoners, 42 who could read and write well, 32 who
could do so a little, and 12 who could sign their names. At Tiumen,
however, we heard from one who had to do with a great many exiles,
and who had several statistics about them, that one-third of those
with whom he had been brought into contact could read. Again, in the
district of Kansk, in Eastern Siberia, in 1877, of 226 criminals, only
two were marked as “well-educated,” whilst in 1878, of 182 prisoners,
none stood high enough, intellectually, to be thus designated. The
figures from Kansk are not quite to the point in speaking of European
Russia, but they help, with others, to give an approximate idea, not
only of the education, but also of the social rank of the Siberian
criminals. Again, for statistical purposes, the Russians are sometimes
marked off into five classes, thus: nobles, merchants, ecclesiastics,
citizens, and peasants; and in prison the higher grades receive better
allowance, and are not mixed with the peasant prisoners, but have rooms
apart. In going through the principal prisons of Siberia, however, we
found the number of rooms thus occupied decidedly small; so that this
observation, taken with the educational state of the prisoners, would
seem to confirm what I was told by one prison official, that probably
not more than 3 or 4 per cent. of the exiles are from the upper classes.

As to the crimes of the exiles, they are not all political, nor even
chiefly so. A large proportion--4,000 out of 18,000, or say 20 per
cent.--of them are charged with no one particular offence, except that
they have rendered themselves obnoxious to the community among which
they lived. If a man in Russia be incorrigibly bad, and will not pay
his taxes nor support his wife and family, but leaves these things to
be done by his neighbours, his commune--which may consist of one or
more villages--meet in their _mir_, or village parliament, vote the man
a nuisance, and adjudge that he be sent, at their expense, to Siberia.
This judgment is submitted to higher authorities, and, unless just
cause be shown to the contrary, is confirmed. The man is then taken to
Siberia, not to be imprisoned, but to get his living as a colonist.
Those sent thus by the villages, I was told, are chiefly drunkards. We
saw a whole wardful of them at Tiumen, dressed in private clothes, and
not in prison garb; and a second ward, of a similar mixed multitude,
consisting of men, women, and children. The perpetrators of political
crimes, as those of the “black Nihilists,” are, when caught, usually
accommodated with free lodgings in Siberia; and so with revolutionary
offenders, who make insurrection in Poland, Circassia, or elsewhere.
Of offenders such as these I must speak hereafter. Formerly religious
dissenters were largely deported, but this has not been done since the
proclamation of what may, in a fashion, be called religious liberty,
unless in the case of one or two--more especially one sect--whose
practices no enlightened Government could tolerate, and which are so
extraordinary that, if they obtained universal acceptance, there would
be no further increase of population, and the human race would become
extinct. The fact is that the great mass of exiles are nothing more
nor less than ordinary criminals, such as may be found in any of the
prisons of Europe.[2]

The sentences of the exiles vary widely according as they are condemned
to one or the other of two classes, namely: those who lose all their
rights, and those who lose only partial or political rights, which
deprivations may be thus explained:--

Those who lose all their rights are not in an enviable position. These
are some of the things they lose:--If a man have a title or official
rank, he is degraded. An exile’s marriage rights are broken, so that
his wife is free to marry another. Neither his word nor his bond is of
any value. He cannot sign a legal document or serve any office, either
municipal or imperial. He can hold no property, nor do anything legal
in his own name. In prison he must wear convict’s clothes, and have his
head half shaved; and, in the case of a woman, she cannot marry after
her release from prison till by good conduct she has placed herself
in a certain category; and, whether man or woman, they may, for new
crimes, if the authorities see fit, after they have served their time
in prison, and are living as colonists, be sent back again. They may
be thrashed with rods and with the “_plète_,” and, even should they be
murdered, probably little trouble would be taken to find the murderer.
In fact, as the words imply, they lose all their rights, though I
believe they can appeal to the law in case of being grossly wronged.

I have said that an exile’s marriage rights are broken, and I was
told that it is the same with convicts in America. Were it not so, it
might be very hard upon a young wife whose husband, for instance, had
committed murder, and who, for her husband’s crime and banishment,
should be compelled to remain single for the rest of her life. A
Russian wife with her children, however, may accompany the husband
if she chooses; in which case they go with the exile and receive from
the Government prison food and accommodation. If, on the other hand, a
husband wishes to accompany a convict wife, he travels at his own cost.
To the honour of the Russian women be it said that the proportion of
men accompanied by their wives and families is one in every six. The
proportion of women accompanied by their husbands is, I am told, not
exactly known, though it is very much less.

Those who suffer the loss of particular rights lose certain of their
privileges (but not family or property rights), and are settled in
Siberia, to get their living in any way they are able. They may,
however, in some cases, have first to serve for a period in prison;
or, again, they may be allowed to live in their own houses and give a
portion of their time to Government work.

Commonly, they are condemned first to serve a certain time in
confinement, with or without labour. If they behave well they are,
after a while, and in some cases, allowed to live outside the prison
with their families, if they have any, but still to do their allotted
work, until the period arrives for them to be liberated and located
like colonists. Some of the women who are condemned to the far east
have the good fortune to be taken as domestic servants by officers, and
even favoured civilians, who, in a new country where ordinary servants
are not to be had, are allowed for this purpose to take the prisoners,
subject to inspection, of course. Lastly, some exiles, though
comparatively few, I believe, are condemned to prison, or to prison and
labour, for life.[3]

The localities to which the exiles are sent vary according to their
crimes. Speaking generally, those deprived of partial rights are sent
to Western, and those deprived of all their rights to Eastern, Siberia.
On this point I have no official statistics, but a legal officer gave
me these particulars concerning the location of convicts. Murderers are
sent to Kara. My finding 800 there would seem to confirm this, only
that their presence was manifest in so many of the other prisons also.
Political prisoners go to Kara, to the Trans-Baikal district, and (as
I heard from other sources) to the Yakutsk government; also to this
latter province are sent those who commit fresh crimes in Siberia.
Vagrants or vagabonds are dispatched to the far east, to the government
of the Sea Coast and Sakhalin. On the other hand, Western Siberia
would seem to be reserved for minor offenders, and those deprived
of certain particular rights only. It should be observed, however,
that exiles, wherever they may be, are under police inspection, are
furnished with papers which they have to show at intervals, and which
tie them to a certain place, whence they can move to a distance only
by permission. When at large, and in some cases when in prison, the
exiles may correspond with their friends through the post; but the
letters must of course be read by the authorities. The hardest part of
the lot of those who lose all their rights seems to be that they cannot
look forward to the hope of returning. Not that a release is _never_
granted even to these; for I am told that political offenders are
sometimes seen hurried out of, as fast as they are hurried into, exile.
The late Emperor, too, when he came to the throne, began his reign by
an act of clemency on a larger scale, and allowed certain exiles whom
his father had banished to return. Again, I have heard of a Polish
exile in good circumstances who was fortunate enough to win the love
of an English young lady connected (by name at all events) with one of
the ducal families of Great Britain, through which it is said the ear
was gained of a member first of the English royal family, then of the
imperial family of Russia, and finally of the Emperor himself.[4] I
have met with another case of a released exile who was liberated under
curious circumstances. He gave me his story thus:--When Alexander II.
visited Paris in the time of Napoleon III., the Tsar asked the Emperor
if there were anything he could do for him. Upon which the Emperor
replied: “You have a Frenchman who, in young and silly days, joined
the Polish insurrection. He was made prisoner, and is now in Siberia.
Will you do me the favour to release him?” The request was granted,
a messenger despatched, the happy prisoner in forty-five days and
nights drove back from the mines to Moscow, not with a couple of horses
merely, but troika fashion, between a couple of gendarmes, and received
his pardon. But such cases, of course, are rare.

It is well known that many of the exiles escape--some from the prisons,
and others from the districts where they are living free. A Russian
authoress, “O. K.,” in “Russia and England from 1876 to 1880,” says
that in January 1876, out of 51,122 exiles supposed to be in Tobolsk,
only 34,293 could be found, which figures an Englishman living in
the Tobolsk government (speaking offhand) told me he should doubt,
though he thought “O. K.’s” statement _might_ be right regarding the
government of Tomsk, in which the same authoress states that 5,000
were missing out of 30,000. For my own figures I am indebted to a
prison official very high in position, who told me that nearly 700
get away yearly, and in 1876 as many as 952 escaped the control of
the police. Thus the mere feat of running away does not seem to be
difficult; but this does not imply that it is equally easy to get away
from the country. A few roubles slipped into the hands of a Cossack or
petty officer have a wonderful effect in blinding his eyes. Again, an
escape is sometimes made from the gold-mines thus:--The convicts work
in gangs, and one lies in a ditch for the others to cover him with
branches and rubbish. The numbers are called on leaving off work, and
one is missing. Search proves fruitless, and, after all have left the
mine, the man rises from his temporary grave and makes for the woods.
The great difficulty is not to get away, but to keep away. The country
is so vast that they cannot travel far before the approach of winter,
and then, if they have escaped in company, they have the choice of
returning to prison food or eating one another. They have, moreover,
another difficulty with the natives. In the Trans-Baikal district, the
Buriats are said to hunt down escaped convicts, and shoot them like
vermin; which is probably explained by what was told me of the Gilyaks
on the Lower Amur, that they receive three roubles a-head for every
escaped convict they bring to the police, whether dead or alive. The
natives argue thus: “If you shoot a squirrel, you get only his skin;
whereas, if you shoot a _varnak_” (which is the nickname they give to
convicts), “you get his skin and his clothing too.” Thus it is very
difficult for them to get out of the country.

There are several reasons, however, which conduce to their running
away. A long-term prisoner, for instance, condemned to twenty years’
labour, makes his escape from a penal colony, wanders about the country
during the summer months, and, on the approach of winter, commits a
crime and is caught. He is asked for his name, to which he replies that
it is _Ivan Nepomnoostchi_--that is, “John Know-nothing.” He is asked
where he comes from. He replies that he entirely forgets. What has been
his occupation? His memory fails him. He is asked for his papers. He
says that he has none, or perhaps trumps up a story that he has lost
them--and so on. Accordingly he is tried, and is sentenced, say to
five years’ hard labour, for which he inwardly thanks the Court, and
goes off, it may be, to a new prison, having effected a saving of the
sorrows of eighteen years. Should he not play his game aright, however,
and should he be detected, then his past service goes for nothing; he
is most likely flogged, and sent back to a harder berth than he had
before. Some run away under the influence of drink, and discover their
mistake too late. Again, other reasons which may be supposed to conduce
to flight are--the fear of punishment for new faults committed, the
desire to get back to social and family ties in Europe, or, in the
case of those twice imprisoned, to ties which they have formed whilst
settled in Siberia.

I am disposed to think that the severance of family and social ties is
with many the really hard pinch of Siberian exile. One lady, who had a
convict for her nurse, told me that she gave her her own clothes, paid
her £1 a month, provided her a home in the best house in the province,
to say nothing of sundry perquisites, and yet she sometimes found her,
when alone, in tears; and, on asking what was the matter, the answer
was--“Oh, if I only knew something of my friends in Russia!” She had
not learnt to write, her friends were in the same position, and the
difficulty of procuring an amanuensis, together with uncertainty as
to address, made communication almost impossible; and so she said she
could not tell whether her friends were dead or alive, or what might
be their fate. I recollect, too, in a prison at Uleaborg, in Finland,
finding a woman who had escaped from exile, of whom I asked how she
liked Siberia; to which she replied that as regards the country she
had nothing to complain of; but, she pathetically added, “I did _so_
want to see my mother!” And to do this she had taken flight, during
three years had traversed more than 2,000 miles, had reached her old
home, and was then retaken!

But nothing has yet been said of the transport of the exiles. Of old
they had to walk all the way, and the journey and stoppages occupied a
long time. The woman at Uleaborg said she was eight months going from
Petersburg to Tobolsk. In this matter, however, as in many others, the
lot of the banished was much mitigated during the reign of the late
Emperor, especially after 1867. The introduction of railways and river
steamboats greatly facilitated this. Accordingly, those in Russia who
are condemned to Siberia are now first gathered to a central prison
in Moscow, where they may be seen entering the city in droves. A very
affecting sight was the first of these droves I saw in 1874. The van
consisted of soldiers with fixed bayonets. Behind them marched the
worst of the men prisoners, with chains on their ankles, the clanking
of which as they moved was most unmusical. Then followed men without
fetters, but chained by the hand to what looked like a long iron rod;
and next after them the women convicts; and then the most touching
part of the whole--women, not convicts, but wives who had elected to
be banished with their husbands. Then there were wagons containing
children, the old and infirm, baggage, etc., the rear being brought up
by armed soldiers. As the prisoners moved along the street, passengers
stepped from the pavement to give them presents. To this the guards who
walked at the side made no objection, and in this way, in some of the
towns, the prisoners gather, or used to gather, a considerable sum of
money; for the woman at Uleaborg said that the money given to her drove
of 156 prisoners, during their three days’ stay in Moscow, amounted to
about 30_s._ each.[5] More recently, however, a Pole, who began his
walking in 1871, farther east, at Perm, told me his receipts from the
wayside charity of the people were insignificant.

Being gathered then at Moscow, the prisoners are sent off in droves of
about 700 each by rail to Nijni Novgorod. This commences in spring, as
soon as the river navigation opens, and two or three parties go off
each week. They began, the year of my visit, on May 8th. On reaching
Nijni Novgorod they are placed in a large barge built for the purpose,
which carries from 600 to 800, and is tugged by steamer to Perm.

Hence they are taken twice a week by rail to Ekaterineburg; 350 on
Wednesday, and 500 on Saturday. Their walking, however, does not
yet begin; for the 200 miles remaining to Tiumen is got over by
conveyances, each of which, drawn by three horses, carries about six
prisoners; and thus they arrive at the first prison in Siberia proper.

Now begins their distribution. Those who are condemned to Western
Siberia are assigned to particular towns or villages, whither they
are sent by water, if possible, or, if not, on foot. Those, however,
who are condemned to Eastern Siberia are placed in another barge, and
taken on the Tura, Tobol, Irtish, Obi, and the Tom, to Tomsk, whence
their walking eastward begins. When not hindered by accidental causes,
they usually rest one day and walk two, marching sometimes twenty
miles or more a day. Temporary prisons called _étapes_ are erected
along the road to receive them for the night, and in the towns are
larger buildings called _perisylnie_ prisons, in which they may rest,
if necessary, a longer time, and where there are hospitals, medical
attendants, etc. Thus they go on day after day, week after week,
month after month, to their destined place or prison, to Irkutsk, to
Yakutsk, to Chita, or, if perchance they are destined to Sakhalin, they
continue to Stretinsk on the Shilka, thence by steam on the river Amur
to Nikolaefsk, and so by ship to the island. Two years since, however,
the Russian Government adopted a new and better plan with prisoners
intended for Sakhalin, and, instead of sending them across Asia,
shipped them from Odessa, _viâ_ the Suez Canal, to the Pacific direct.
A large merchant steamer, the _Nijni Novgorod_, was employed for the
purpose, sailing under the Government flag, which made the passage
in about two months, the prisoners arriving in excellent health, and
without one death on the passage.

I mention this fact the more readily as I heard it in the Admiral’s
house at Vladivostock, where the ship arrived a week or two before I
did, and where it was said that one of the Japanese newspapers had
copied from an English paper to the effect that half the prisoners
had died on the passage, and that the rest were in a terribly sick
condition. As an Englishman I was called to account for this, and
I found that the minds of some of my Russian friends were very
sore with the editors of English newspapers, by reason of alleged
misrepresentations received at their hands. They complained, moreover,
that whereas some of the newspapers were ready enough to publish
against the Russians all they knew that was bad, they were slow to
acknowledge the good, and were not always ready to recall what had
been said, even when proved to have been false. Not having the facts
before me, I could only put in a plea regarding the desire of English
journals to be first in the field with news, and the consequent rapid
manner in which editorial work has to be done. Knowing something of an
editor’s difficulties, I felt justified in expressing the hope that
there had been no intentional departure from fairness, uprightness, and
integrity. I am not sure, however, that I should have been ready with
an answer had I known how the case really stood.[6]

I have thus described the transport of ordinary exiles to Siberia.
There is another category of prisoners--arch-heretics in political or
revolutionary affairs, Nihilists, etc., of whom the authorities wish
to take special care, who are not sent with the common herd, but are
individually placed between two gendarmes, and sent off to travel alone
direct to their destination. I am of opinion that the popular notion as
to their numbers is exaggerated, and that they are much fewer than is
commonly supposed. I shall offer my reasons for thinking thus later on.
These persons, while travelling, are never allowed, under any pretence,
to be out of sight of their keepers, who are charged to allow no one to
speak to them. This, however, is not always carried out to the letter;
for a friend of mine, coming one day to a swollen river in Siberia,
near Omsk, where a gendarme was also waiting with a young lady prisoner
of seventeen, was allowed to speak to her, and she told him that since
she left Petersburg, a distance of 1,700 miles, she had not once had
a gendarme out of her presence. When there are several prisoners of
this character travelling in a manner together, they are kept separate,
and are not allowed to speak to each other. But even this cannot
always be enforced; for not long before my arrival at Tiumen a batch
of about ten such persons had passed. On arriving at Ekaterineburg, a
separate carriage was taken for each; but when they came at Tiumen to
the riverside, standing and waiting for the steamer, they were able
to snatch a few moments for conversing together. I know of another
instance, in which a young woman had been suspected of a political
offence, and been warned by the authorities to desist; but, not
profiting by the warning, she was arrested, sent off with a gendarme,
and on her way met a gentleman whom she asked to convey a letter to
her friends. This of course was against the gendarme’s orders, but, on
being assured that the letter should be only of a private nature, and
three roubles being put into his hand, he allowed it to be written and
taken. This was in European Russia. Further east they become still more
lax.

There is yet a third case, in which exiles are permitted to journey
by themselves like ordinary travellers. We met a lady who was forced
to quit Petersburg at twenty-four hours’ notice; but owing to her
position, or through interest, she was allowed to travel alone; and
in this manner, by reason of illness on the way, during which her
money was stolen, she was a twelvemonth reaching her location in
Eastern Siberia. This, however, was the only case we met with of an
exile travelling privately, and I presume similar cases are very
exceptional. Whilst the exiles are on the march, and, in certain
cases, whilst they are living like colonists, they receive clothing and
an allowance for food, either in money or in kind; but this subject
will be best treated under the description of prisons, to which
subsequent chapters will be devoted.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] According to M. Réclus, the first decree of banishment fell
upon the insurrectionists of Uglitch, in 1591; in the days of the
Tsar Boris Godunof, and for a century afterwards Siberia received
scarcely any exiles but State prisoners. At the end of the seventeenth
century, however, some of the vanquished Little Russians of the
Ukraine were deported thither; and they were followed by the religious
dissenters--the first accompanied by their families. The Streltzi
were banished by Peter the Great to garrisons in the most distant
parts of the empire; and after the reign of Peter, the intrigues of
the palace were the cause of exile to some of the Court celebrities,
such as Menchikoff, Dolgoruki, Biron, Munich, Tolstoï, and others,
some of whom, however, were brought back when their friends came into
favour. In 1758 began the deportation of Poles to Siberia, but their
banishment in large numbers dates from the reign of Catherine II., with
the confederates of Bar, and then with the companions of Kosciuzko.
Nine hundred Poles, having served under Napoleon, were exiled to
Siberia, and large numbers of the insurrectionists of 1830 followed.
The exiles whose names awaken perhaps the most sympathy among the
Russians were the Decembrists of 1826, who endeavoured to deprive the
Emperor Nicholas of his throne; but of these, and political prisoners
generally, I shall treat hereafter in a separate chapter.

[2] There are upwards of thirty crimes for the commission of one or
more of which a man may be sent to Siberia. In fact, I have been told
that all the crimes of the country are reduced to these thirty-three
heads, viz.: insubordination to authorities; stealing or losing
official documents; escape, or abetting the escape, of prisoners;
embezzlement of Government property; forgery while in Government
employ; blasphemy; heresy and dissent; sacrilege; sheltering runaways;
forging coin or paper money; without passport, or passport with term
not renewed; vagrancy; bad conduct and petty crimes; murder, and
suspicion thereof; attempted suicide; wounding with intent to do
grievous bodily harm; rape and seduction; insult; attacking with intent
to wound; holding property falsely; practices of the “Scoptsi”; arson;
robbery and burglary; thieving and roguery; horse-stealing; dishonesty
and false actions; debt; dishonouring the name of the Emperor; assuming
false names or titles; bestiality; usury and extortion; eluding
military service; smuggling and illicit distilling.

[3] Some idea may be formed of the proportion of the banished who are
condemned to hard labour by observing that, of 17,867 exiles passing
eastwards through Tiumen prison in 1878 (the year before my visit),
2,252, or one-seventh, were transported for hard labour, and the
remainder for “residence for life, or for certain terms in East and
West Siberia.” I was told likewise by Mr. Ignatoff, at Tiumen, that
about 2,500 hard-labour convicts passed yearly through his hands, and
that they spent the first part of their time at Tobolsk. It may be
further noticed from my statistics, that during the same year which
saw the above number of exiles going eastwards, there passed through
the same prison 2,629 persons returning westwards “to their respective
homes in Russia;” which expression I do not understand, since I am
informed from an official source that the number of persons returning
after temporary exile is very small. The law permits those only to
go back who are banished by the communes (and then not without their
permission), and those who are deprived of _particular_ rights. Four
hundred and sixty-two of those condemned to “hard labour,” and 3,488 of
those going into “residence,” are marked as _minors_,--that is to say,
children of exiles, and _offenders_ under twenty-one years of age; of
which last, I am told, the annual total sent to Siberia does not exceed
300.

[4] I have heard parts of this story in various places--in Hampshire,
in Devon, in Siberia, and on the coast of the Pacific--of the heroic
conduct of a Scotch Professor, who gallantly escorted this young lady
to her lover in Siberia, sat by her side for 3,000 miles, watched over
her, saw her married, and then, returning, gave no rest to friends or
officials till he had obtained the Pole’s release. The incidents would
doubtless suffice for a three-volumed novel, which, however, I will not
begin, as I know only one of the parties concerned, and him only by
correspondence, and I have not had the recital from his own lips.

[5] M. Andreoli, in the story of his exile, remarks that the Moscow
merchants had established a considerable fund for dividing among
prisoners going to Siberia, and that when a party arrived, the director
of the fund was at once informed. He then divided equally among them
the means at his disposal, which was never less than 14_s._ or 16_s._,
and sometimes as much as 30_s._ or 32_s._ to each person. Men, women,
and children shared alike, so that a man with a family got substantial
help; but this fund, I am told, no longer exists. Both M. Andreoli and
Baron Rosen speak of the kindness of the Siberian peasants to exiles on
their journey.

[6] On reaching England I was referred to what had appeared in the
_Daily Telegraph_, first, on June 2nd, under the heading, “Reign of
Terror in Russia,” where it was stated that “a large number of convicts
are about to be despatched to Sakhalin from Odessa, the service which
provides for the ordinary transportation of criminals to Siberia
being already overtaxed.” Again, on July 28th, under the same heading
appeared half a column of large print, speaking of “the appalling
evidence of Russian barbarity” which their “own correspondent” had
obtained. The correspondent informant visited the ship, and observed
to the officer in command that the prisoners so badly provided for
would never survive the passage, to which the Russian officer was
said to have replied, “Well, so much the better for all parties if
they do not,” and so on. On the next day, under the heading “Russian
Barbarities,” it appeared that Mr. Joseph Cowen asked in Parliament
whether the Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs had received
information that 700 persons, mostly men and women of education, had
been packed in the hold of a small ship--(the _Daily Telegraph_ had
described it the same day as a man-of-war of 4,000 tons)--that 250
had died on board, and 150 were landed in a dying state, etc. Most of
this appeared in large print, and attention was called thereto. But by
August 5th a change had come over the scene, and all or nearly all the
foregoing was found to be untrue; and then, in their _smallest_ print,
simply headed “Reuter’s Telegram,” the _Daily Telegraph_ informed its
readers in six lines that “the _Novoe Vremya_ of August 4th states that
the steamer _Nijni Novgorod_ arrived at Nagasaki on Friday last, and
that the convicts were well in health.” Now here would appear to have
been ample room for, if not an apology, yet an expression of regret
that the Russians had been so very much misrepresented; but, if such
appeared, it has escaped me. On August 9th, the Russian journals are
alluded to as joining in a chorus of indignation against Messrs. Cowen
and Mundella for their motion in Parliament, but nothing is recalled of
what had been said. I know not how the foregoing extracts may strike
the reader, but the perusal of them did not cause me to plume myself on
the score of English fairness and our supposed love of justice.

CHAPTER V.

_FROM TIUMEN TO TOBOLSK._

General remarks on Siberia.--Limits.--Area.--Temperature.--
Divisions.--Roads.--Ethnography.--Language.--Posting
to Tobolsk.--Floods.--Spring roads.--Villages of
Tatars.--Their history.--Characteristics.--Costumes.--
Occupation.--Worship.--Language.

Between Ekaterineburg and Tiumen, as already intimated, the traveller
passes into Siberia,--concerning which country it may be well here to
make some general observations, with a view to the better understanding
of future chapters. The western boundary of this immense region runs
from the Arctic Ocean along the chain of the Northern Urals to a point
in about the same latitude as Lake Onega; then, leaving the mountains
a little to the left, it comes down in a tolerably straight line to
a point midway between the Sea of Aral and Lake Balkash; thence it
turns eastward to and along the northern shore of the lake, and, going
further east, joins the Altai Mountains. All Russia lying to the west
and south of this line is either in Europe or in Asia; all lying to
the east of it is Siberia, the length and breadth of which are the
same as of Russia in Asia; whilst its area, as given in recent Russian
statistics, is 4,750,000 square miles, or more than three thousand
millions of acres (3,185,510,900), of which nearly one-fifth is arable.
The river Yenesei (roughly speaking) divides the country into east
and west, the surface of the western portion being almost entirely
flat, whilst the eastern portion, especially towards the Pacific, is
mountainous. Siberia extends over nearly 40 degrees of latitude, and
in climate ranges from arctic to semi-tropical. In passing through the
country from west to east, from the end of May to the beginning of
October, between the 50th and 57th parallels, we found the temperature
much the same as during the same period in England. When steaming on
the Obi, at the beginning of June, on the 62nd parallel, my minimum
thermometer fell during the night as low as 35° Fahrenheit, but rose by
9 o’clock to 75°. English winter clothing, therefore, by day was not
too warm. Again, at Vladivostock, lying on the 43rd parallel, the heat
towards the end of September was not too great for clothing suited to
an English summer. All through the journey, however, when sleeping in
the tarantass, it was sufficiently cold in the early morning, whatever
might be the heat of the day, to make an ulster coat acceptable.

The political divisions of the country are two vice-royalties, called
respectively Western and Eastern Siberia. Each of these is divided into
“governments” and “oblasts.”[1]

The means of communication in Siberia are more ample than a foreigner
might suppose. There are, indeed, no railways; but when the line, now
in course of construction, from Ekaterineburg to Tiumen is finished,
the English traveller will be able to go by steam from Charing Cross
to Tomsk, a distance of 5,000 miles, and further east than Ceylon.
As it is now, when Tiumen is reached, river communication becomes
possible with each of the four capitals of Western Siberia. Again,
the Amur presents a water passage inland from the Pacific, by which
Nikolaefsk, Blagovestchensk, and almost Chita, may be reached; and
now that Captain Wiggins has led the way through the Kara Gates, and
Professor Nordenskiöld has followed on to Behring’s Strait, Russia
may congratulate herself on having for the commerce of Siberia three
additional outlets--the Obi, the Yenesei, and the Lena--to both Europe
and Japan.

Again, there is the communication by roads, which is the more important
on account of the many months the rivers are frozen over. There are
two post roads by which Siberia is entered from the west; one through
Orenburg, which is little used, and the other through Ekaterineburg
to Tiumen. There is also a third road, not much used, which crosses
the Urals further north, and connects _Veliki Ustiug_, on the Northern
Dwina, with Irbit. The high road to China leaves Tiumen in an easterly
direction to Omsk, where the routes from Orenburg, Semipolatinsk, and
Central Asia converge. The main road goes east to Tomsk, where it is
joined by roads on the north from Narim, and on the south from Barnaul;
it then continues eastward to Krasnoiarsk, where it is joined by roads,
on the north from Yeneseisk, and on the south from Minusinsk. After
this it takes a south-easterly direction to Irkutsk, whence there go
two ways--one to the north-east, to Yakutsk, and so on to Kamchatka;
the other, and principal one, to the south-east and round the base of
Lake Baikal to Verchne Udinsk. Here it divides into two, that to the
right leading to Kiakhta and China; that to the left running east,
through Chita to Stretinsk. Thence the traveller proceeds on the
Shilka and Amur--by boat in summer, and on the ice in winter--past
Blagovestchensk to Khabarofka, whence, to the left, he continues on
the Amur to Nikolaefsk, or he turns to the right up the Ussuri and the
Sungacha to Vladivostock. Along all these roads there is postal and,
except towards Yakutsk, telegraphic communication also.

An ethnographical map of Siberia, coloured according to the area which
is occupied by its various nationalities, reveals the fact that only a
very small portion of the country is inhabited by Russians.[2] In fact,
a narrow strip of country suffices to show their _habitat_, if drawn
on either side of the great land and water highways, and somewhat
widened in the mining districts of the Yeneseisk and Tomsk governments;
and as the aborigines do not generally follow agriculture, it will
be inferred that those parts of the land which are under cultivation
lie within this narrow strip. The same observation will also indicate
that, whilst the language of the towns and the highways is Russian, a
knowledge of other tongues is needed for extensive intercourse with the
natives.

Having made these general remarks concerning Siberia, we proceed on our
journey from Tiumen to Tobolsk, _en route_ for Tomsk, which is best
reached in summer by river, steaming for 1,800 miles, the post road
from Tiumen to Tomsk passing through Omsk, or by a somewhat nearer way,
leaving Omsk to the south, and then crossing the Barabinsky steppe.

We arrived at Tiumen on Thursday, the 29th May, bringing with us two
loads of luggage, and leaving the rest to follow by “goods’” transport.
There was steam communication between Tiumen and Tobolsk twice a week,
the passage occupying a day and a half; but the steamer that went on to
Tomsk was to leave on the following Monday, by which time the remaining
luggage could not arrive. It became, therefore, a question whether
we should wait for it or go before, in the hope that, whilst we were
making _détours_, our books might overtake us. My Finnish friend, Miss
Alba Hellman, had sent me some pamphlets for distribution amongst a
colony of Finns and others from the Baltic provinces, numbering about
1,800, and located at Ruschkova, not far from the city of Omsk. We at
first thought, therefore, to make this _détour_, and then, instead of
returning to Tiumen, to go “across country” to Tobolsk, and thus see
the prisons, and wait for the next steamer but one, in which we hoped
all our luggage might be forwarded; but this plan our friends at Tiumen
condemned. The question then remained, How could we see Tobolsk? The
steamer in passing would stay but for an hour or two, and another boat
would not follow for a week. The only alternative was to drive. But
terrible accounts were given of the roads, which had not yet dried
after the breaking up of the frost. Not to see Tobolsk, however, was
out of the question, and we therefore determined to make the attempt by
road, hoping to reach the city on Saturday, see the prisons on Monday,
and take steamer the following day.

Accordingly, on Friday night, late, we left Tiumen in two tarantasses,
with three horses to each. At the first station the post-master gave
us warning that the roads were very bad, and that only one or two
travellers had passed that way since the waters had subsided. On coming
to the first river, it was found to be unapproachable at the usual
place of embarkation. A ferry-boat had, therefore, to be brought to us,
some six miles out of the way, and so we were kept waiting five hours.
Whilst thus delayed, report said that the post-master kept hardly half
the men required by his contract for working the ferry, and, further,
that the men were sometimes extortionate. When, therefore we had rowed
six miles down the stream to the landing-place, and the post-master
could give no satisfactory reason why we had been thus kept, we thought
it right, for the benefit of future travellers, to enter in his “book
for complaints,” bearing the Government seal, our regrets that his
neglect had detained us five hours.

About eleven o’clock the same night another episode occurred, which
illustrates the pleasures of spring travelling in Siberia. The
post-master gave us, what we never had before or after,--two outriders
to convey us over a bad place on the road. Towards midnight we slept,
when, being awakened by repeated shouting, I peeped out and saw that we
were plunging among willows and mire. The outriders were holding up the
tarantass to keep it from toppling over. Then came more shouting, with
desperate jerking and pulling of the horses, which were up to their
knees in bog, till solid ground was gained, and all stopped for breath.
The next thing was to get the luggage tarantass through. We heard in
the distance a crash, and lo! one of the shafts was broken. A horseman
went back to the village for a new one, but in vain, and the old one
was repaired. Whilst waiting we had time to look around. It was not yet
morning, but the rays of the sun, which in northern countries are seen
above the horizon all the night through at this time of the year, shed
sufficient light on our darkness to give a weird appearance to all that
was visible.

Silence was broken only by the incessant croaking of frogs, and by the
men, who were relating to each other how they had got through. One
had slipped into water up to his waist. The temperature was anything
but warm; but, poor fellows! they seemed to regard things as in their
normal condition, and uttered repeated thanks when they were dismissed
with a gratuity of a few extra kopecks. Further on we had to wade
through water above the axletrees, and during the last stage to cross
five streams, the last of which was the Irtish. Tobolsk at length was
reached, but not until Sunday night, and after a journey of forty-eight
hours instead of twenty, as we expected.

[Illustration: TATARS OF KASAN.]

By posting from Tiumen to Tobolsk, we purchased experience of early
summer roads; and, in so doing, saw things which I should be sorry to
have missed. Among these were several villages peopled exclusively by
Siberian Tatars. These people differ in one important respect from
most of the other nations living with the Russians in Siberia, in that
they have a history and can look back to great princes who have made a
name for themselves in the annals of the world. They are remnants of
those who, in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, in the days of
Genghis Khan and his descendants, overran Northern Asia, and wrested
the land from its aboriginal inhabitants. They pushed their conquests
to the Volga, and Serai, on that river, became the capital where their
great Khans (known as the Khans of the Golden Horde) lived and reigned,
and whence they long proved formidable antagonists to the Russians.
At length came their disruption. Kasan was founded in the fifteenth
century, and was the capital of a small khanate. A second khanate was
that of Astrakhan, a third that of Krim, a fourth that of Tiumen--all
fragments of the main horde which had collapsed in the fifteenth
century. Towards the close of the sixteenth century, the Russians took
from the Tatars Kasan and all else west of the Urals, and those on the
east of the mountains, in the region of the Irtish, were afterwards
subjugated by Yermak and his followers. Tatar villages may still be
found between Kasan and Tobolsk, beyond which these people inhabit a
district stretching south to the Kirghese hordes, and south-east as far
as the Altai Mountains, and so joining the territory west of Irkutsk
peopled by the Buriats.[3] The Tatars live among and are subject to
their Russian conquerors; but the two races do not blend--one race
being Christian, the other Mohammedan. The traveller is reminded of
this by noticing that the Tatars, when on a journey, carry with them
their wooden basins, for they will not drink from a vessel used by
Russians; and so, in some parts, Russians will not drink from Tatar
cups, though this exclusiveness wears away where Russians are many and
Tatars are few. The Tatars have a good physique: dark eyes, swarthy
skin, black hair, and high cheek-bones. Their strength of body is such
as to make them excellent workmen, as may be seen by the enormous
burdens they carry in loading vessels at Nijni Novgorod and Kasan.
They are much liked in the capitals as coachmen, for they understand
horses well. I heard good accounts of them likewise as servants in the
hotel at Petersburg. They are not drunken, and are therefore valuable
as waiters. Their women are supposed to wear veils, and do so in the
cities. In the villages they content themselves with shawls, which are
drawn nearly over the face when a stranger approaches. Men and boys,
whether in the house or abroad, wear a small skull-cap, sometimes
richly embroidered; and on high days some are seen with white turbans.
These and their long cassock-like coats give the men a decidedly
oriental appearance. Both men and women wear top-boots, and generally
goloshes over them, so that, on entering the house or the mosque, they
have only to slip off the goloshes to secure clean shoes.[4]

In the Tatar villages the green domes and pinnacles of the Russian
church, surmounted with the cross, were of course wanting; and in their
places were found Mohammedan mosques, with minarets surmounted with the
crescent. These latter reminded one of the shingled steeples of English
village churches. Our first sight of Tatar worship was on the Volga, on
board the steamer at sunset. Three Tatars approached the paddle-box,
on a clean part of which they spread a small carpet. Leaving their
goloshes on the deck, they knelt on the carpet, bowed their heads to
the ground, and, rubbing their hands as if washing, chanted their
prayers. They then appeared to pray silently in deepest reverence with
closed eyes, and as if in total oblivion that a crowd was looking on.
We were told that the pious pray thus at least three times a day,
wherever they may be. At Kasan we had an opportunity of seeing their
congregational worship in a Tatar mosque. Permission was given us to
enter, if at the bottom of the stairs we would take off our goloshes,
or, having none, our boots. The Mohammedan reason for this practice
seemed to be that they did not wish to bring into the place anything
soiled or unclean.

The building inside had a square room, with the barest of bare white
walls, without attempt at ornament of any sort or kind. The only piece
of furniture even was a high wooden rostrum approached by stairs, from
which exhortations are delivered on Fridays. There were no chairs or
benches, or any resemblance to an altar or table. Those who assembled
early sat on the ground with their legs beneath them, apparently for
private prayer, reading, and meditation; but upon some one beginning to
murmur in a low strain, all jumped up, ran to the front, and arranged
themselves in ranks. They commenced their prayers by placing the thumb
into or on the lower part of the ears, with the palms of the hands
outwards. Then they stood, bowed, knelt, and then lowered the head
to the ground. This is done a certain number of times, according to
the hour of the day, twice at early morning, and increasing till five
or more at the last of the five daily services. At the conclusion of
prayer they passed their hands over their faces. All these external
acts of devotion were done by each rank with the utmost precision,
and the histrionic effect, as some would call it, was excellent; only
that to one in the rear of four or five ranks of men, of each of whom
nothing could be seen but the soles of their feet and the seats of
their trousers, the spectacle was somewhat grotesque. In the less
demonstrative parts of the service, however, there was not an eye that
wandered, with the single exception of a man who bestowed a glance on
us strangers; nor a man who did not behave in a manner becoming the
occupation in which he was engaged. Some few who came in late did not
join those whose service had begun, but commenced a separate one for
themselves.

The floor was covered with clean matting, on which lay here and there a
common rosary made of date-stones, ninety-nine in number, and divided
by beads into three sections.

The Tatars objected to give us a translation in Russian of the prayers
they said thereon. We heard elsewhere that they have ninety-nine names
of God; and a Tatar prisoner--apparently a gentleman--told me that
they had a separate prayer for each bead. The uneducated, however, do
not know these many names of the Deity. On the following day we had
the opportunity of asking a monk concerning the Russian rosary, which
differs from both the Mohammedan and the Roman.[5]

The Tatars can read the Scriptures in Turkish, and are apparently
not indisposed to do so, provided it does not attract attention. A
colporteur at Moscow told me that he sold fifty-seven copies to Tatars
in the villages between Kasan and Perm, though they became angry in
the larger towns if he attempted openly to sell them in the Tatar
quarter. I took with me a few Turkish gospels, and among the prisoners
at Barnaul found three Tatars, one of whom could read. As we repassed
the door of their room, all three were seen sitting with their legs
beneath them, the two illiterate ones listening to their scholarly
friend with eager attention. We met several of this race in prison
and elsewhere, as we proceeded onwards, but I do not remember passing
through whole villages of Tatars after we left the district of Tobolsk.
Hence we were the more glad not to have missed these.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] I am not clearly informed as to the exact difference between a
government and an oblast, but I am under the impression that an oblast
(which means a “province”) is a territory often newly acquired and
under martial law, whereas, in a “government,” things have settled
down, and the civil and military organizations are under separate
control. The word “oblasts” is sometimes translated “territories”;
their relation to “governments” being similar to the relation between
“Territories” and “States” in America. The oblasts in Siberia are
Akmolinsk and Semipolatinsk in the west, and Yakutsk and the Sea Coast
in the east; but, to avoid confusion, we will speak of them all as
governments or provinces. Each province has its capital, which ranks as
a “government” town, and each _uyezd_ has likewise its principal town.
Each province is subdivided into districts, called _uyezds_; _uyezds_
into _vollosts_; and _vollosts_ into villages, called _selo_, if with
a church, or _derevnia_ if without. In the villages the chief man is
called a _starosta_; in the vollosts a _zasidatil_. Over each uyezd
commonly presides an ispravnik; over each province a governor; and over
each vice-royalty a governor-general. Western Siberia is divided into
four provinces, namely: Tobolsk, Tomsk, and Semipolatinsk, each of
which has a capital, bearing the name of the province; and Akmolinsk,
which has Omsk for its capital. Eastern Siberia is divided into six
provinces: Irkutsk and Yakutsk, with capitals of the same names; and
Yeneseisk, Trans-Baikal, Amur, and Sea Coast (or Maritime), with
capitals named Krasnoiarsk, Chita, Blagovestchensk, and Nikolaefsk.

[2] The total population, Russian and aboriginal, according to the
_Journal de St. Petersbourg_, August 7th, 1881, quoting the most
recent statistics, numbers 1,388,000 souls; but I am not sure whether
“souls” may not mean _males_ only, as it sometimes does in Russia. They
are divided among the provinces as follows: Tobolsk, 463,000; Tomsk,
324,000; Irkutsk, 165,000; Yeneseisk, 164,000; Trans-Baikal, 141,000;
Amur, 3,000; Sea Coast, 13,000; and Yakutsk, 112,000. This says nothing
of Akmolinsk and Semipolatinsk.

[3] Mr. Wahl, in his “Land of the Czar,” which contains much valuable
ethnographical information, gives the number of the Siberian Tatars
of the governments of Tobolsk and Tomsk at 40,000. Dr. Latham also,
in his “Native Races of the Russian Empire,” traces their affinities
with many peoples both in Europe and Asia, all of whom he classifies
under the general name of Turks, and points out that the area covered
by the Turkish stock is perhaps larger than that of any other race in
the world. The general name of Turks includes the Tatars of Kasan, of
Siberia, the Caucasus, and several other places; also the Kirghese,
Yakutes, and many smaller tribes, some of which will hereafter be
referred to under the respective provinces which they inhabit. The
Turkish stock are, as to their religion, Christians, Pagans, and
Mohammedans: Christians where they have been won over by the Russians
to the Greek Church; Pagans where they have not been reached even
by Mohammedanism, but have remained in the darkness of aboriginal
Shamanism, as is still the case with a few of the Yakute Turks; and
Mohammedans, which is the case for the most part with those of the
country through which we passed.

[4] The natural home of the Turk or the Tatar is the steppe, where
they dwell in tents, and are herdsmen, horsemen, and in some cases
camel-drivers. Those we passed gain their livelihood by agriculture,
by the breeding of cattle, and by the transport of goods. Their houses
were neat and cleanly, and compared favourably with those of the
Russians.

[5] The mention of all three invites a short study in “comparative
religions,” which may be briefly made as follows:--The complete Roman
rosary consists of 150 beads on a string, divided into 15 decades,
between each of which is a large or distinctive bead. Where the two
ends join there are 5 other beads attached, and at the loose end a
crucifix. It is used thus:--On the crucifix is repeated the Creed;
on the first bead the Lord’s Prayer; on each of the next three the
“Hail, Mary!” and on the fifth bead the Lord’s Prayer. This is by way
of introduction. Then on each of the first 10 beads are said these
words: “Hail, Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee! Blessed art
thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb,--Jesus. Holy
Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our
death. Amen.” When this has been said ten times, the “Pater Noster”
is said on the dividing bead, and this is continued till 150 prayers
have been offered to the Virgin, and 15 to “our Father,” and then the
odd beads are used in inverse order for a conclusion, as before for an
introduction.

The Russian rosary looks smaller, but has also certain beads larger,
or at least distinguishable from the others. It is not worn or used by
ordinary members of the Russian Church, but only by monks and nuns.
I was told by a nun at Moscow that they say on each bead, “May Jesus
Christ have mercy on sinners!” but a monk at Kasan said (what is not
irreconcilable with the former) that on each ordinary bead they say,
“Lord God of heaven and Jesus Christ, have mercy upon us”; and on the
large and distinctive bead they say a prayer either to Jesus Christ or
the Virgin, the latter beginning something to this effect: “Thou mighty
Mary, hear our prayers, and take away from thine unworthy servants all
sin,” etc. Lastly, we were told that the Mohammedan continues to say on
his rosary, “There is but one God, and Mohammed is His prophet”; and
that if they do not know the ninety-nine names of God they merely count
the beads.

CHAPTER VI.

_SIBERIAN PRISONS._

Old Finnish prisons.--Model Petersburg prison.--Officers.--Contraband
importations.--Russian prisons of six kinds.--Siberian
prisons of three kinds: their number, location, structure,
furniture.--Prisoners: their classification.--Kansk
statistics.--Method of trial.--Remands.--Exchanging names and
punishments.

The prisons of Russia occupy a position midway between the dungeons of
the Middle Ages and the modern cellular abodes for criminals of the
nineteenth century. A few of them, however, approach very near these
extremes on either side. With regard to Finland, it is hardly fair to
hold the Russian Government responsible for the condition of its prison
affairs, because, although the Emperor is Grand Duke of that country,
he allows these liege subjects to make their own laws. Nevertheless,
I can never forget the vividness with which my boyhood’s reading came
back to me or Robin Hood and the dungeons of Nottingham Castle, when I
first visited the old prisons of Åbo and Wiborg. The descent by steps
with candles to prisoners in the lower rooms, the dim light entering by
windows in walls ten feet thick, the clanking of chains, the like to
which I have seen in no other country except perhaps Mongolia--these
things spoke more eloquently than a visit to the former prison of Sir
Walter Raleigh, or even the unused Ratisbon chamber for the torture
of Protestant heretics; and that because these northern prisons
were inhabited by living men. The majority of the Finnish prisons,
however, and certainly all the new ones, are better than the two I
have mentioned; though, unless a change has taken place since 1876,
the Finns still have and use sets of irons nearly ten times the weight
of any others I have seen in Europe. To pass to the other extreme.
One sees in Petersburg a brand-new prison, which may be supposed to
represent the very beau ideal of what a house of detention ought to be.

It is only right to say, however, before going further, that the
condition of prisons and criminals in Russia is in a transitional
state. The authorities have seen the necessity for reforms for at least
20 years, and great pains have been taken that these reforms should
be made judiciously and effectively. Deputies have been sent to visit
the prisons of other countries and report thereon; a commission has
been appointed to receive the reports, to consider and debate, and
so thoroughly to “shed upon the question the light of science.” All
this has been done, and the reforms are yearly expected to take place,
pecuniary reasons alone delaying the change for the better. Meanwhile a
model prison has been built in the capital, and those who wish to see
what Russia _can_ do should visit this house of detention for persons
awaiting their trial. It is built in the shape of a right angle, having
two long corridors four storeys high. There are 285 separate cells
for men, 32 for women, others for confinement in common, as well as
places for associated and solitary exercise. Into cell No. 227 the
late Emperor once entered, of which they keep up the remembrance by
allowing no one to be confined therein. No expense appears to have
been spared in building the prison. The floors are of asphalte, and
the door of each cell is of solid oak. Within are iron bedsteads, made
to fold and hook up neatly against the wall. The tables and seats are
of sheet iron, with hinges; and, both within the cells and without,
every article and fitting of brass is rubbed to a high degree of
polish. The officers move about noiselessly in felt shoes, so that
they can unexpectedly and at any moment observe a prisoner through the
wire-covered inspection-holes. In the infirmary are 10 cells for those
who are to be kept apart, and 32 beds for those who live in common.
There is likewise a room in which 40 men may mingle by day, and a
general sleeping apartment with 36 bedsteads, across each of which wire
is stretched, making for the prisoner a hard but clean, and, I should
imagine, not uncomfortable bed. There is also a room for bookbinding,
where a few can work.

The building contains three places of worship, for Russians, Roman
Catholics, and Protestants respectively, the Russian having a very
handsome _ikonostasis_ and chandelier; and I was pleased to find that,
if a man can read, he has always a New Testament in his cell, and
further that, by asking, he can obtain from the library other books in
addition. This is as it should be.

In the female division we found for warders superior-looking young
women dressed in uniform, the insignia of office on their collars
being a pair of crossed keys. Some of the women prisoners, as with the
men, are placed together in common, and in some cases they have their
choice of solitary or social life. This is true in a sense other than
that which first appears; for one lady prisoner, a criminal condemned
to Siberia, was about to take to herself a husband before proceeding
thither, and the happy event was to be celebrated in the prison on the
morning after my visit. Peeping through the food aperture of one of the
doors was the face of a pretty young woman, a political prisoner, in
whose possession had been found suspicious books. There was a women’s
reception-room, having a bath warmed by gas; but as it was found to
cost about five shillings to heat, it is not surprising that this
particular bath is seldom used.

Dark cells were shown to us, in which a prisoner may not be put for
more than six successive days. The place where prisoners were allowed
to converse with their friends was dark, which is not usual; and I
observed in it no place for an officer to sit between the parties
whilst they were speaking.

The attempts of the authorities to keep the prisoners from intercourse
with one another, and with the outer world, do not yet appear to be
perfectly successful.

┌───┬───┬───┬───┬───┐
│ A │ B │ C │ D │ E │
├───┼───┼───┼───┼───┤
│ │ │ │ │ │
├───┼───┼───┼───┼───┤
│ │ │ │ │ │
├───┼───┼───┼───┼───┤
│ │ │ │ │ │
├───┼───┼───┼───┼───┤
│ │ │ │ │ │
└───┴───┴───┴───┴───┘

The Polish prisoners in Warsaw, according to M. Andreoli, had a plan by
which they could pass news in a couple of hours to all the prisoners in
the fortress. A square was divided into 25 spaces for the 25 letters
of the Polish alphabet. One knock was understood to mean A, two knocks
B, and so on; or, again, these signals might be changed by one knock,
signifying V, and so forth; this dumb speech being kept up by tapping
on the walls. This, however, is only one method.

In the chapel of the model prison at Petersburg are 24 boxes for
prisoners whom they wish to keep from holding communication with each
other, even by a look. But the partitions which separate them are only
of wood, and I observed that those I entered had been furtively bored
with small holes, through which conversation could be held. Again,
the prisoners are allowed to receive food from their friends outside,
and, although it is first examined by the officials, the friends
manage sometimes to introduce for the prisoners some strange culinary
concoctions. There were brought to a man, for instance, one day 230
roubles in a basin of buttermilk. Again, another man was frequently
found the worse for drink in his cell. Milk was regularly brought to
him, and duly tasted by the authorities; but still the man got drunk.
At last they discovered that the jug in which the milk was brought
had a false bottom with an aperture in the handle, and so the mystery
was solved. What will not topers do to procure drink? On arriving at
Werchne Udinsk, we heard that a drunken woman had just been detected in
trying to smuggle spirits into the prison in a pig’s entrails!

I saw quite a collection of contraband articles at Petersburg, which
had been found in the possession of prisoners. Among them were
knives (one ingeniously made from a steel pen), playing cards, and
dominoes--all of them of original and unique, if not of artistic,
character; also a file, for which a prisoner had given a warder 50
shillings. The man, too, had made busy use of his purchase. He set his
mind upon breaking loose, and thought to file through a bar of iron an
inch or more thick that confined him. But he could do his work only
during the time that the warders were at dinner and at supper, and
then not too loudly, giving 200 strokes of the file at dinner and 100
at supper time. He went on thus for three months, and then managed to
break the iron. But he was detected, and condemned to Siberia, whither
he had already been sent before, and whence he had managed to escape.
There he has probably by this time found less costly and well-built
prisons from which to break loose.

Before speaking, however, of the prisons of Siberia, it may be well to
observe that in European Russia there are at least six various kinds of
prisons. There is, first, the fortress--such as that at Schlüsselburg,
in which it is generally supposed are confined grave offenders,
especially the political and revolutionary. I have not visited one
of these. Next there are military prisons, in which severity of
discipline is said to be similar to that of the fortress. Then there
are hard-labour prisons, in which long-term convicts work out their
sentences. There are also houses of correction, where short-term
prisoners do the same; likewise houses of detention, in which persons
are kept awaiting their trial. I heard also of “houses of industry,”
which, unless I am mistaken, are somewhat like our reformatories;
and, lastly, there are buildings in which prisoners on their march to
distant places stay temporarily--some only for a few days, others for
weeks. These nice distinctions, however, can be drawn only in large
towns in European Russia. In Siberia, especially in small towns, the
same building serves for all classes of prisoners, the best arrangement
practicable being made for special cases. Speaking generally, and
from my own observation rather than from accurate information upon
the subject, there appeared to me to be in Siberia three classes of
buildings which the English would call by the general name of prisons.
There is, first, the _étape_, in which exiles on the march rest for
a night or two; next, the _perisylnie_ prison, in which, for various
reasons, exiles may have to wait--it may be during the winter, or
until the ice be broken up on the rivers; and, thirdly, the _ostrog_,
which means a stronghold, and is a prison in general, where a man may
be simply confined, work at a trade, or eat and sleep after working
outside in the fields or mines. I have no statistics of the total
number of prisons of all sorts in Siberia, but suppose it cannot be
less than 300, which may be roughly computed thus: Nikolaefsk is more
than 9,000 versts from Tiumen, and, supposing that convicts walk 30
versts a day, they would require 300 resting-places for that route
alone. Some parts of the way, it is true, are traversed in summer
by river communication; but no notice has been taken in my estimate
of off-lying routes north and south, as, for instance, to Yakutsk,
Barnaul, etc. The expenses, therefore, of building and keeping in
repair this vast number of prisons must be very considerable.

As to the location of the prisons. The _étapes_ are found all along
the road from Tiumen to the Amur. There will also be found a prison or
lock-up in most of the principal towns. But of the larger buildings
there is one at Tiumen for the reception of all the ordinary exiles
as they come from Russia, and from which, as already stated, they are
distributed over Siberia. At Tobolsk are three hard-labour prisons,
with about 1,000 convicts, in which prisoners often spend part of
their terms before going further east. The next building of similar
dimensions is called the Alexandreffsky central prison, about 50 miles
from Irkutsk, where are some 1,500 hard-labour convicts. Continuing
east, there were formerly some large hard-labour prisons at Chita and
Nertchinsk, tidings from which, in years gone by, have caused many
an ear to tingle; but since the Russians have gained the Amur, and
many of the mines have passed from Government into private hands, the
great bulk of the convicts have been sent further east. At Kara, on
the Shilka, for instance, is a large penal colony, where there are
upwards of 2,000 convicts living in and about six prisons, the men
being supposed to work in the gold-mines. After Kara, the next large
colony is on the island of Sakhalin, which represents the utmost bound
of Russian penal life. I have said nothing of the prisons in the
provinces of Akmolinsk and Semipolatinsk, as I did not go there. There
is or was a large prison at Omsk, through which exiles used formerly
to pass; but, now their route has been changed, it serves only for
local purposes. They have no prisons in these provinces, I believe, of
considerable dimensions.

Some of the larger prisons in Siberia, especially those of stone, were
not originally built for their present purpose. There are certain
features, however, about the others which are more or less common to
all. The Siberian prison, like the houses of the Siberian people, is
usually built of logs calked with moss to keep out the cold. Near
the principal building, but generally detached, are the kitchen, the
bath-house, exercise-yard, stores for provisions, out-houses, etc., and
enclosing the whole is a high palisade of wooden poles pointed at the
top. From the fact that almost all the new prisons of Europe are built
upon the cellular plan, the detained being kept solitary, it appears
to have been recognised as a principle that the old method of herding
prisoners together is a bad one. The same principle would seem to have
been adopted also by Russia, in that the plan of the new house of
detention in the capital is in the main cellular. In Siberia, however,
the old plan continues, and usually the prisons inside are divided into
large rooms or wards, in each of which the principal feature is an
inclined wooden plane, resembling that of a guard-room bed, upon which
the prisoners sit and lounge by day, and sleep by night. If the room be
square, this divan or platform is placed against three of the walls,
or, if it be oblong, there may be a passage up the centre, from which
the sleeping places ascend to the walls on either side; or, lastly,
if the room be very large, there are two platforms meeting like a low
gable in the centre of the room, and two others against the walls. Thus
space is economised, and as many as 40 or 50 men (once I found 100) are
packed in a room. There are usually a few separate cells for political
or special offenders, and one or two for punishment.

Connected with the large prisons are usually a hospital, one or more
chapels, sometimes a school-room, and a few workshops.

The large rooms or wards have little or no furniture. Each is provided
with an _ikon_, or sacred picture, and sometimes with a shelf on which
the inmates may put their spoons, combs, and other table and toilet
requisites with which they provide themselves.

Concerning the prisoners, it has been already intimated that those
belonging to the upper classes are kept apart. There is a further
classification in some of the large prisons according to the crimes
committed: a room for murderers; a second for forgers and utterers
of base money; a third for thieves, and generally two or three for
“vagabonds”--that is, not merely for vagrants in the English sense of
the word, but generally for persons who have run away from supervision,
who have no papers, and can give no good account of themselves.[1]

The number of persons in Siberian prisons awaiting their trial, or the
confirmation of their sentences, is very considerable. This leads me
to speak of the courts, the judges, and their mode of trial. Since
November 20th, 1860, law reforms were begun in Petersburg, Moscow, and
Odessa, with their respective districts; and the new method of trial
resembles that of England, with a mixture of certain French elements
and some local introductions from Russia. Under the new _régime_ in
European Russia there are three courts, namely: those of the Judge of
the Peace; the Assizes; and the Senate. A Judge of the Peace tries
civil cases involving interests up to £50, and criminal cases involving
a year’s punishment or less. Appeal from his decision may be made to
a periodical meeting of Judges of the Peace for the district. At the
court of Assizes, which consists of from three to nine persons with
a president, trial is made by jury. The names of persons liable to
serve are put into an urn, from which 36 are drawn by lot. From these
the procureur, who is the public prosecutor, may, without assigning
any reason, strike off eight, and likewise the prisoner’s advocate a
greater number, bringing them down to 14. Then, if this jury decide
that the prisoner be guilty, the opinion is asked of both procureur and
advocate as to what punishment, according to the code, in their opinion
should be inflicted; after which the president gives the decision of
the court. The Senate is simply a court of appeal--does not re-try
cases, but merely judges whether or not in the lower court the law has
been rightly administered.

Trial by jury is not yet introduced into Siberia, but offenders are
judged by a tribunal consisting of odd numbers, of not more than
seven nor less than three. The tribunal is a standing institution,
the members of which are paid according to their grade--from about
£70 to £100 a year. A procureur (who is an officer of the Government)
prosecutes; and a barrister, retained by the prisoner, defends.
Witnesses are called on both sides, and the tribunal decides by a
majority of votes whether the prisoner be guilty or not. In case of
even numbers being present, or of equal voting, the president has a
vote and a half; but should the president be absent, and there be an
even number for and against the prisoner, then the defendant in this
and all similar cases has the benefit of the doubt. Should a verdict
of guilty be returned, the tribunal decides the punishment according
to the regulation of the code. In capital or important cases, however,
in Siberia, such as murder, the judgment of the tribunal must be
confirmed by the Governor-General; and hence, when the vastness of the
country is considered, it will be seen why prisoners sometimes wait so
long uncondemned. Suppose, for instance, a man commits a murder in a
place which happens to be at a distance from the town where a tribunal
sits. Some one goes to the authorities, deposes that a murder has been
committed, gives evidence in writing, and the culprit is arrested. If
the culprit can find bail he may remain free till wanted (in Russia it
is enough for this purpose to deposit, as a guarantee of returning,
a certain sum of money); but if unable to find bail he must go to
prison till he can be sent, suppose, to Nikolaefsk. If it be winter,
it would be too costly--the Amur being frozen--to send him by horses;
he must therefore wait till the following June for the opening of the
navigation. Then, having proceeded to Nikolaefsk, he is tried, perhaps
within a week, found guilty, and his punishment determined, after
which it is necessary that the papers concerning his case be sent to
the Governor-General at Irkutsk, a distance, there and back, of 5,000
miles; and so the prisoner must wait till his sentence is confirmed.
Meanwhile he is supplied with a paper, which is, I presume, his ticket
of indictment.[2]

Whether, when the case is fully ended, the prisoner keeps this or a
similar paper, I am not quite sure. I am under the impression that he
does, at all events whilst he is on the road to his destination; and,
further, that these papers serve as capital on which the prisoners
exercise their ingenuity for their mutual convenience. I mean in this
fashion: Ivan Nepomnoostchi has a ticket condemning him to five years’
labour in the coal-mines of Sakhalin, whilst the ticket of Augustus
Poniatowski condemns him for a similar time to the gold-mines of Kara.
For reasons best known to themselves, the one prefers country life
and a cottage or prison near a wood, whilst the other inclines to a
residence at the sea-side. So they change their tickets, their names,
and, as far as they can, their beings, and sometimes manage in this way
to effect what they wish. I have even heard of prisoners inducing those
who are free to exchange places with them, the bargain being effected
of course by money, and carried out whilst a gang of several hundreds
is marching on to a steamer, for instance, where heads are counted,
but where they cannot recognize faces. Goryantchikoff represents
the “changing of names” as taking place in the presence of prisoner
witnesses, and when several of the party are more or less intoxicated,
the price given being sometimes as much as 30 or 40 roubles. All are
bound to secrecy by esoteric law, and as the man receiving the money
generally spends it quickly in drink and so cannot restore it, he not
infrequently finds, when too late, that he has sold his liberty, or
exchanged a lighter to receive a heavier punishment for a few glasses
of brandy. This is dangerous work, however, for at some of the jails
they take down a full description of the prisoners, though they do
not usually photograph them, as in England. At Alexandreffsky, for
instance, they have a large book, the pages of which are filled with
columns headed as follows:--Name, age, crime, and punishment; from
whence; appearance; term of punishment; arrival; single or married;
religion; date of sentence; from what prison in Russia; remarks, etc.

I am not sure that I have given all the process by which they manage
the transfer of tickets, but what is written may perhaps render
intelligible the crime charged upon a roomful of prisoners at Irkutsk,
who, we were told, had been “changing their names.”

The present state of things, however, as regards prisons and exiles,
must, as already stated, be regarded as temporary, since the reforms
of 1860 have been now extended as far as the Urals, and it is only a
question of money when they shall be spread to Siberia also.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Some statistics with which we were favoured from Kansk for the
previous year, 1878, give interesting facts, showing the ages of
criminals when they committed their crimes, their education, condition
as to marriage, religion, place of birth, and also their repetition of
crimes. It should be borne in mind, however, that the figures refer
only to a small district of Eastern Siberia, an _okrug_ or circle, 200
miles in diameter, and with a population of 40,000. They are therefore
primarily of local value, though in their general aspects they are
highly suggestive. The number of criminals was 121 male and 61 female:
in all, 182. Of these there were 31 from 17 to 21 years of age; 83 from
21 to 33; 45 from 38 to 45; and 33 from 45 to 70. The figures, too,
show curiously enough that up to the age of 33 the proportion of male
criminals is largely in excess of the females, but that after that
age this order is reversed, and the proportion of female prisoners
preponderates over that of the males. Of the entire number, 182, not
one is marked “well educated,” only 46 could read and write, and 136
could do neither; 129 out of 182 were married, leaving 53 widows,
bachelors, and spinsters. With respect to religious profession, they
were classified thus: 112 were orthodox Russians, and 19 of other
Christian denominations; 34 were Jews, and 17 of other non-Christian
religions: 180 were born in the province; 22 had offended twice, and 3
had done so thrice.

[2] The following is a translation of such a paper, which is divided
into six columns, with a printed heading to each, and filled up as
follows:--

1. Surname, patronym, Christian name, and occupation of prisoner.
(_Gregory, son of Nicholas M----, a peasant._)

2. Age. (39.)

3. Crime. (_Wrong passport._)

4. When and by whose order imprisoned. (_On 9 April. Tomsk district
police._)

5. When the case was tried and how it stands. (_Terminated on 4 May,
1879. Now under revision._)

6. Remarks. (_He begs it may be quickly ended._)

CHAPTER VII.

_SIBERIAN PRISONS (continued)._

Charitable committees.--Prison food.--Clothing.--Work.--Hard
labour.--Exercise.--Amusements.--Privileges.--Intercourse
with friends.--Punishments.--Capital punishment.--Corporal
punishment.--Irons.--Prison discipline.--Flogging.--Exceptional
severities.

The Russians introduce or allow the introduction into their prisons
of an ameliorating influence, in the form of local committees, for
furthering the temporal welfare of the prisoners. “You see,” said to
me the president of one of these committees, “we have two elements in
the government of our prisoners. The police strive for the letter of
the law, whilst we strive for kindness to the prisoner.” Thus justice
and mercy go hand in hand; and when they happen to fall out, I fancy
that in Siberia, after their easy-going fashion, mercy not unfrequently
wins the day. Whether all prisons have local committees I do not know;
but we came in contact with the operations of several. The members take
upon themselves to superintend, clothe, and educate the children of
prisoners; and in more than one place we found admirable asylums built
for this purpose. They also lend a helping hand to prisoners’ wives,
and at Irkutsk we found they had supplied the prison with a library.
Their exertions, however, do not stop here; for they look after and in
some cases improve and augment the prisoners’ food. The Government
allows for each prisoner so much money a day. At Ekaterineburg, for
instance, to the common exiles 10 kopecks; to the upper classes 15
kopecks. At Irkutsk we met an upper-class prisoner who had 17½ kopecks,
which he received in money. The prisoners who remain at Ekaterineburg
are allowed 6 kopecks a day. Instead, however, of each spending his
6 kopecks, the whole is taken and dispensed by the committee in the
purchase for the general caldron of meat, vegetables, etc.; and they
somehow manage out of threehalfpence a head to give to each prisoner
two dishes of food. Whether the committee appeal to the public for
funds I know not. At Tomsk we heard that each director of the prison
committee gave his ten roubles annually, whilst from the neighbouring
villages were brought presents of flour and other kinds of food. Again,
it is common to see, outside prison gates, boxes in which may be placed
offerings for the welfare of the prisoners; and such is the liberality
of the people in this direction, especially on festivals, that in
Petersburg those detained get more Easter eggs than they can eat. All
this speaks of kindness on the part of the public towards prisoners,
in which particular I know no nation that equals the Russian. Further
allusion will be made to this hereafter.

Apart, however, from these philanthropic efforts, the reader will
perhaps get a better idea of Siberian prison diet from details which
came under our own observation. At Tiumen each man was said to receive
daily 2½ lbs. (Russian) of bread, ½ lb. of meat on ordinary days, and
¾ lb. on holidays, with salt, pepper, etc., also a daily allowance of
quass for drink. The fare in Tobolsk prison was the same, a bucketful
of quass or small-beer being provided for every ten men. At Nikolaefsk
I heard of corned beef and _kash_, or corn, substituted for vegetables.
At the Alexandreffsky prison they had ½ lb. of meat, including the
bone, and 2½ lbs. of bread. At Kara, however, where the men work in the
mines, the allowance is still more liberal. Each receives daily 4 lbs.
of bread, 1 lb. of meat, ¼ lb. of buckwheat, with tea, but no quass.[1]
At Kara, when not working, they receive 3 lbs. of bread, ½ lb. of meat,
and 1/12th of a lb. of buckwheat. We found in some of the prisons
that, if they do not eat all their food, the prisoners may sell the
remainder; or again, the surplus bread may be used for making quass,
which, when given, always comes, I believe, from these “economies.”
The diet, however, is considerably affected by the rigour with which
fast-days are observed in the prisons. Every Wednesday and Friday are
fast-days, and there are four great annual fasts, with an aggregate
of at least a hundred days, so that there are probably quite half the
days in the year when the prisoners get fast diet, which excludes
flesh food. I understood, however, that this does not apply to those
at hard labour; while other prisoners, during some of the long fasts,
receive fish and fish-soup--the latter _ad libitum_. So at least it is
at Tobolsk. If a man happens to be in a position to buy tea or such
luxuries, he may do so, and his friends may, if they please, bring him
food daily. Thus a man ought not to starve in a Siberian prison.

Nor is he left without clothing. Prisoners awaiting their trial,
also exiles losing partial rights, may, if they choose, wear their
own clothes, or, if they have none suitable, they are supplied by
the Government. Those who lose all their rights, however, must wear
convicts’ clothing. This consists, in summer, of a linen shirt and
pair of trousers, and a peasant’s coat of camel’s hair, a specimen of
which last I bought for five shillings. Those condemned to hard labour
have two yellow diamond-shaped patches sewn on the back; those without
labour have one piece only. Other marks of a similar character indicate
the province from which they come. At Kara a coat of felt is given
yearly. A shirt must last six months, and is washed once a week; whilst
in summer a pair of rough leather shoes or slippers is served out every
22 days. Those working in the mines are provided also with leather
gloves.[2]

Concerning their labour, I seriously avow my belief that in many cases
the hardest part of a Siberian prisoner’s lot is not the work imposed
upon him, but the _absence_ of it. This appeared to prevail among the
prisoners up to Kara.

I met at different places two Poles, who came to the east condemned
to hard labour, but who got off exceedingly lightly. What one said
amounted to this: that if he liked to work he worked, but if not he let
it alone. The authorities told me, in one instance, that they cannot
now find enough work for the exiles. Many of the mines have passed from
Government into private hands, and some even of those remaining are
more or less exhausted. Hence a part of the Russian criminals, who of
old would probably have been exiled, are now detained in large prisons
in European Russia, such as at Pskof, Wilna, Kharkhof, Orenburg,
Simbirsk, Perm, etc.; but the plan has only lessened, not removed,
the difficulty of finding useful yet laborious occupation for the
condemned. When, therefore, it is remembered that a large number of the
criminals cannot read, and that for those who can there has hitherto
been, to say the least, but a poor supply of books, the tedium can be
easily imagined of imprisonment without work in Siberia. Accordingly,
it was little matter for surprise that we heard at Alexandreffsky of
prisoners begging for work. In some of the prisons opportunities are
afforded for the detained to work, which gives them employment, and
also enables them to earn a little money with which to buy comforts.
Some, however, are condemned to labour, which labour may be done for
the Government direct, or it may be let out by the Government to
private persons or companies, as at Kara, where some of the convicts
work in private mines belonging to the Emperor, and at Dui in Sakhalin,
where the coal-mines are worked by a commercial company.

Thus the work of convicts, when they are put to it, is mainly of
three degrees of severity,--that of the fabric, the zavod, and the
mines, which I understand to mean as follows. Fabric work is that of a
manufactory, or the labour of ordinary mechanics, such as carpenters,
blacksmiths, joiners, shoemakers, tailors, etc. The best Russian
prison I have seen of this kind was at Petersburg, on the Wiborg
side of the Neva, which had almost the busy hum of a factory, where
everything seemed well arranged and kept going; but in the prisons
of Tobolsk, which I understood to be of this character, there seemed
an insufficient number of workshops in proportion to the number of
criminals. The word _zavod_ is synonymous with our “works” for the
founding and casting of metals; and for this, I presume, is sometimes
substituted heavy outdoor or indoor work, such as making bricks,
mending roads, or manufacturing salt. But of this class of work we saw
next to none, save a handful of men at Alexandreffsky, returning from
making bricks. Once more, the mines are of at least three sorts--gold,
silver, and coal. The work of the gold-mines resembles the labour of
English navvies in making a cutting, whilst that of silver and coal,
being underground, is more difficult. From reports I heard, however, of
these latter two, it did not appear that the convicts were by any means
overworked; but further details upon this matter will be furnished
hereafter. Those condemned to the hardest labour need, of course, no
special time for exercise. The prisoners without labour are allowed at
Alexandreffsky an hour a day for this purpose, which appeared to me too
little. More generally, however, we found they had a happy-go-lucky
way, especially in the smaller prisons, of opening the doors in
the morning, and letting the prisoners, if they did not misbehave
themselves, go in and out of the yard as they liked--to sleep, talk, or
bask in the sun, and in some cases to smoke.

I am not aware that the authorities permit the prisoners any
amusements, though it has been already intimated that they find them
for themselves--sometimes in the shape of cards, with which, if report
be true, having nothing else to play for, they gamble away their food.

But we have not yet exhausted the prisoners’ privileges. Here are some
more of them, though probably they are not the same in all the prisons.
According to a convict’s behaviour he is placed in a certain category;
and the longer he remains therein, and the better he behaves, the more
ameliorations he gets. For instance, if a man condemned to fifteen
years’ hard labour conducts himself well, he serves only thirteen years
and two months, and, towards the end of the time, gains certain other
privileges. If condemned to wear irons four years, he may, in a similar
manner, lessen the time by one-third; if in the higher category, he
receives 15 per cent. of what he earns by working for the Government,
and in his spare time he may work on his own account; if in the lower
category, he earns money, but it is withheld until he advances higher.
At Alexandreffsky prisoners may receive money from their friends, up to
a rouble a week, but not more. At Kara some prisoners are not allowed
thus to receive money, but I heard of others there who receive as much
as £15 a year, and who also receive visits once or twice a week from,
not mere acquaintances--which is not allowed--but their families, who
may also daily, if they please, bring them food.

I was told at one large prison that, strictly speaking, it was not
permitted to prisoners (except political ones) to write to their
friends, which seemed to confirm what I had heard and what I have
written elsewhere. But unofficial persons denied this, saying that
prisoners are free to write, and this also we heard at some of the
prisons. The two statements may perhaps be reconciled thus: that it
is one of those cases (and there are many such in Siberian prisons)
in which the letter of the law is supposed to be more honoured in the
breach than in the observance.

Once more, if men are well behaved, they get, before the expiration of
a long sentence, into a position comparatively comfortable. They are
allowed to live outside the prison with their wives and families; they
may have their house and garden, still working a certain number of
hours per day, and obliged to be in their homes by night; but otherwise
they are free to do what they list, and are much in the same position
as that of an ordinary labourer.

I have yet to speak of punishments, which are of two kinds--those
decreed by the civil courts and courts martial, and those subsequently
incurred in Siberia. Concerning the former two, it is not quite
accurate to say that in Russia there is no capital punishment, since
there are at least three offences for which death is the penalty,
namely: (1) offences against the persons of the Imperial family,
and certain laws concerning them; (2) military crimes, or, what is
equivalent, crimes committed when a place is in a state of siege; (3)
breaking quarantine laws, such as permitting a vessel with infectious
diseases to come into a Russian port. But in these cases culprits are
turned over to a military tribunal, which alone can sentence to death;
in accordance with which I was told of a case happening in 1877 in
Sakhalin, wherein some convicts, with much brutality, killed a whole
family, and were sentenced to be shot; but this is rare, and since the
convicts had already lost all rights, it would perhaps be considered
hardly an exception to the rule that murder in Russia is not followed
by capital punishment.

Nor, again, does the Russian law inflict upon any _free_ man corporal
punishment. The knout has been abolished for some years. They do,
however, put their prisoners in irons, which for the legs weigh from
about five to nine pounds English; and if a man rebels, he may get them
as heavy as fourteen pounds. I was told, however, that the new chains
weigh only five pounds. Those for the wrists weigh two pounds.

As to the period for wearing them, accounts differed. At
Alexandreffsky, up to eighteen months usually; at Kara, four years;
whilst, at Tobolsk, it was said that prisoners might be in chains
from two months to eight years. The manner of carrying the fetters
is as follows. Over the leg is worn a coarse woollen stocking, and
over that a piece of thick linen cloth; then come the trousers, over
which is bound on the shins a pad of leather. A stranger might wonder
at first how the trousers could be taken off; and to satisfy our
curiosity, a prisoner in Tiumen showed us how it was done, which gave
me the opportunity to observe, when his leg was bare, that it had no
marks from wearing the irons. On each leg a ring is not locked, but
_riveted_. To these rings is attached a chain of about three feet in
length, which, for convenience in walking, is usually suspended in the
middle by a string from the waist. This may seem severe enough for
English ideas of the present day, but I saw heavier on the legs of two
murderers in America. Russian chains, however, are playthings compared
with some to be seen in Finland, and which I have put on. In bringing
the prisoners in Finland from the country districts to the towns, they
make use of the farmers’ carts; and it sometimes happens that the cart
is waylaid by accomplices, and the prisoner delivered. To prevent this,
therefore, they in some cases put on an extraordinary suit of irons,
which outdo those I saw even in China. First, there is a collar for
the neck and a girdle for the body, which two are connected by means
of chains, the hands likewise being fastened to the girdle. On each
ankle is put an iron stirrup or socket, which projects over the front
of the feet far enough to receive through its holes a heavy iron bar,
weighing thirty-six pounds, the whole weight of which is made to rest
on the prisoner’s insteps and to connect the feet. Then from the middle
of the bar comes another chain, fastening it to the girdle. The whole
is of iron, and weighs about 108 lbs. It should be added that these
are seldom used in Finland, and then only for desperate characters;
but in Russia no such chains exist. The heaviest of the Russian irons
are about the weight, I imagine, of those formerly in use in England,
if one may judge from the pair called “Jack Sheppard’s irons,” which
are kept as a curiosity in Newgate. Moreover, if report be true, there
is a good deal of _hocus-pocus_ connected with Siberian fetters. To
an ordinary observer the fetters look riveted on in such a manner
that without a smith it would appear impossible to get them off. The
largeness of the rings, however, to allow of their fitting over the
stocking, the bandage of linen, the trousers, and then the leather
gaiter, will make it probable that, on the removal of these bandages,
it may be possible in some cases to slip out the naked foot. However
that may be, I heard from another source, not to be doubted, that a
certain governor of a province, on visiting one of his prisons, was
moved with compassion, and ordered that the chains should be struck off
the prisoners; upon which they wriggled and kicked them off with such
alacrity as to leave no doubt on his mind that they had been donned as
uniform in which to receive his Excellency’s visit. A released prisoner
has told me that so dexterous do they become in pressing the thumb
into the palm of the hand, that they used to slip off their handcuffs
and sleep without them. M. Andreoli also mentions in his account that,
whilst on the march, the payment of four roubles to the soldiers in
charge got them free of the chain to which they were attached, on the
understanding, however, that the guard should not be got into trouble
by any one running away, and that the iron should be properly affixed
when approaching the town or their resting-place for the night. He also
mentions that, in a drove of 147 prisoners, there were 21--that is, a
seventh--wearing chains. Throughout Siberia I saw only one man wearing
handcuffs; but, in Western Siberia, chains were seen on the legs of
many--how many I cannot say, but less, I should think, than a seventh;
and this proportion markedly decreased as we proceeded further east.

[Illustration: A FINNISH MURDERER IN TRAVELLING IRONS.]

The courts sometimes order a man--generally one who has run away
repeatedly--to be chained, on reaching his destination, to a barrow
or implement, which thus always accompanies him wherever he may go. A
doctor informed me that he had seen a prisoner’s ticket with such a
doom thereon within the previous twelve months; and I heard that at
Sakhalin one or two ferocious characters were thus confined; but I saw
none. There were none, I found on inquiry, among the two thousand at
Kara; and such treatment was said to be exceedingly rare.

With regard to punishments inflicted for insubordination to prison
authorities, or for subsequent crimes of convicts, the mildest form
is incarceration in a solitary cell. A man is next deprived, in part,
of food and minor comforts, as in England. Then, if not already
in irons, he may have them put on; or, if this do not suffice, he
may be “birched,” after the fashion in which our fathers corrected
us. I witnessed this performance at Nikolaefsk. Having heard on
a Saturday--which is there the day for flogging--that a man was
to receive 60 stripes with the rod, I thought it right, since the
visitation of prisons was my speciality, to go and see it, and thus
shirk no occasion of witnessing with my eyes what I learned through my
ears. The man was a released convict, of horrible countenance, who had
served his time in confinement, and was subsequently taken as a joiner
into a merchant’s establishment, and he had rewarded his employer by
robbing him. Accordingly, in the police station, he was brought from
his room to the presence of the police-master. Behind the culprit stood
a Cossack, and at his side a clerk, who read over his sentence. The
prisoner then signed the paper, to signify that he had heard it read,
and was marched back to another room and placed on the floor, with his
back laid bare, one Cossack holding his head and another his feet.
Two soldiers then inflicted the stripes successively, whilst a third
counted aloud the number administered. The man wriggled and roared, and
the skin became very red, but I saw no blood, and the operation was
soon over.

I came away, I confess, considerably perturbed; but the Nikolaefsk
folks said that was _nothing_, and further informed me that, for the
commission of other than very serious offences, they frequently deal
in this summary manner with released convicts, both male and female.
The switches composing the rod, according to M. Andreoli, must, by law,
be sufficiently small to allow of three being passed together into the
muzzle of a musket. Those I saw reminded me of a dame’s birch, save
that they were longer, and the switches somewhat stouter than those
formerly seen in schools--indeed, _facsimiles_ of those used in the
prison of Cold Bath Fields in London. A marvellous feature of the case
is that some of the men (ay, and women too) not only receive the rod,
but laugh and are impudent after it. One of my hosts in another town
told me that some years ago, soon after the Amur came into the hands of
the Russians, he was robbed by a soldier of some clothes, upon which
the police-master sentenced the thief to receive 500 stripes with
the birch rod; but the governor hearing of it increased the number
to 1,100. My host was asked if he were willing to see the stripes
inflicted; and, going at five in the morning, he saw 500 administered.
As the man lay on the grass, and as each rod was worn out, it was
replaced by a new one from a heap lying by. The prosecutor begged
that the rest might be remitted, and came away. The whole number,
however, were administered, and the man was kept in the hospital for a
fortnight, at the end of which time he came to his prosecutor to ask
for a glass of grog, and said that for a bottleful of spirits he would
not mind having another 1,100 if it might again be followed by a fine
time in the hospital!

I heard of others laughing at the birch. But there is yet one thing
they fear, and that is a whip called the “_troichatka_,” or “_plète_.”
I forewarn the reader that the treatment of this subject may harrow
his feelings; yet, if a writer is to present a true picture of what
has come under his observation, he must delineate not only the lights
of his picture but the shadows also. The author of “Tom Brown’s School
Days,” when about to describe a fight at Rugby, recommends any of his
readers who feel particularly sensitive to skip the chapter; and I
venture to give similar advice with regard to the next few paragraphs.

The knout, as already said, has been abolished for some years,
notwithstanding the persistent introduction of this instrument into the
pages of some of the vindictive class of writers on Russian affairs. I
found it had been discontinued sufficiently long to make it difficult
for me to get an explanation of what it used to be like. M. Pietrowski,
in his “Story of a Siberian Exile,” De Lagny, and one or two other
writers of his class, do their very best to invest the knout with every
horror, and to make it appear that a long strip of flesh was torn off
the culprit’s back at every stroke. A more trustworthy account is
that of M. Andreoli, which I am the more disposed to believe, because
it agrees pretty accurately with the description of the instrument
given me by an old man who had seen it used at Chita. The Russian
post-drivers still use for their horses what they call a “knout,”
which is a short whip like a heavy English hunting-whip, only that the
lash consists of three or four pieces of twisted hide linked together
continuously by metal rings. It makes a formidable instrument even
for driving a horse. But on comparing this with our two descriptions,
I make no doubt that the genuine knout for criminals was a somewhat
similar whip to that now employed sometimes for horses. M. Andreoli
gives it a handle from one to two inches in diameter, and 9 inches in
length. At the top of the handle is a ring, then a lash of raw hide 18
inches long, with a ring at the end; then a second lash and ring; and
thirdly came the part which is the “knout” proper, namely, a flat lash
of hard leather, 21 inches long, bent to a curve and ending with a
hook something like the beak of a bird--the entire length of handle and
lash being 2½ _arshines_, or nearly 6 feet. The instrument used to be
wielded by a convict, who received his liberty or certain privileges
for doing this work. I heard from a lawyer that the public flagellator
in Moscow was so skilful in the manipulation of his weapon, that he
could with it snip a cigarette off a window without breaking the glass,
or at a single blow break an inch board, and, therefore, the spine of
a man’s back. He was said to have found his profession so lucrative
that, when his daughter married, he gave her a dowry of 60,000 roubles,
at that time equal to, say, £9,000. He made his money from those he
flogged. The law demanded that the person to be beaten should receive
a certain number of stripes, but did not exact that the recipient
should suffer; and thus, when well paid, this hero let the knout fall
lightly--so, at least, the story goes.

The “_troichatka_,” or “_plète_,” is a whip of twisted hide, fastened
to a handle 10 inches long and an inch thick. The lash, about the same
thickness at the top as the handle, tapers for 12 inches, and then
divides in three smaller lashes, 25 inches long, and about the size of
the little finger, the whole measuring 4 feet in length, and weighing
nearly 15 ounces. M. Pietrowski represents the plète as consisting of
“three thongs weighted at the ends with balls of lead.” The balls of
lead, however, if I mistake not, are a piece of invention to harrow
the feelings. At all events, none of those I saw (and I saw a boxful)
had anything attached to the lashes, nor did they need it, for the
instrument is quite severe enough in itself. From 20 to 50 lashes is
the number usually given, though they may go up to 100. The criminal
is bound to a thick board, wide at the top and narrowed towards the
bottom, called a _kobyla_, or “mare,” which, by means of an iron leg,
is made to incline at an angle of about 30 degrees. At the upper end
of the board are three places hollowed out to receive in the centre
the face and head, and on either side the hands, all which are bound
down with leather thongs. A little lower and at either side are two
iron loops, which confine the arms, whilst the feet are secured at the
bottom. At an execution (for such as described to me by eye-witnesses
it almost amounts to) a medical man and some of the authorities must
be present. The convict executioner takes three or more plètes, and,
having stretched them to render them supple, takes up his position
about 10 yards distant, walks quickly to secure a momentum, and brings
down the lash with full force on the lower part of the culprit’s back.
This he repeats two or three times, letting the lash fall in the same
place. Then he walks from the other side, so as to bring it down in
a different direction, and, after a few strokes, changes his whip
and walks from a third point, the strokes thus falling upon the man
something in the shape of a star or an asterisk. M. Andreoli intimates
that the flagellator is often bribed by the culprit or his friends, in
which case he brings down the first blow with terrible severity, making
the poor creature writhe and scream horribly, but then diminishes the
force of his blows as he proceeds; whereas, if he be not bribed, he
begins gently and gradually increases in severity, which is far worse.
He has, however, to be wary, for if he does not strike hard enough
he is threatened with twenty-five stripes for himself, which were
given the summer before my visit to an executioner in Nikolaefsk. Most
descriptions of this punishment represent the culprit’s back as raw,
and running with blood--and it is better for the man when this is the
case. A skilful flagellator draws little or no blood, and more pain
is caused when the skin simply rises in wales; but, when this is the
case, mortification sometimes sets in, and the prisoner speedily dies.
One thus thrashed in the morning had died at night during the week
preceding that in which I received my information.

Before passing from this dreadful subject I wish to make quite
clear what was told me: that no man for the first offence can, by
Russian law, be condemned to corporal punishment. Also I was given
to understand, by a legal authority, that the plète exists only at
three places in Siberia--Kara, Nikolaefsk, and Sakhalin, (though I was
informed by a released exile that he saw it, 15 years ago, at Chita,
and nearly everywhere,) so that only the very worst criminals ever
see it at all. If they were moderate offenders they would not be so
far east, and those who get it have usually gone through deportation,
prison, and irons, and yet remain incorrigible. Also it should be
remembered that in these localities the inhabitants are few, and are
surrounded by hundreds of convicts or ex-convicts; that a very large
proportion of the women-servants, and men-servants too, are of the same
class, some of them not having even finished their terms; and that,
in addition to these ex-prisoners, who are supposed to be corrected
and better behaved, a considerable number of the worst characters are
constantly escaping. More than 100 escaped from Sakhalin, I was told,
the winter before my visit. When free, they make for Nikolaefsk to
escape starvation, caring little what they do. In 1877 three convicts,
to get the paltry sum of £12, brutally killed a woman and put her down
a well. Hence the inhabitants say that, were they not defended by some
very strong deterrents, they would not be safe a moment, since, if a
man commit half-a-dozen murders, he knows he is not to be hanged.

I have thus forced myself to mention all the kinds of punishment,
painful as some of them are, that came under my observation or to my
knowledge in Siberia; and I have done so in part because I desired to
leave no room for uneasy suspicions that aught had been kept back from
the reader. Moreover, I should not think it right to contradict the
many false statements which have appeared from time to time concerning
the punishment of Siberian exiles without giving a picture of things as
I really found them.

On the whole, my conviction is that, if a Russian exile behaves himself
decently well, he may in Siberia be more comfortable than in many, and
as comfortable as in most, of the prisons of the world. There are yet
other points to be mentioned in connection with Siberian prisons, but
these can be best treated of as we visit, in succession, the various
towns in which they are situated.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] If this highest scale of Siberian diet be compared with the highest
scale in the prisons of England and Wales, as printed in the Reports
of the Commissioners, Inspectors, and others for 1878, it will be
found that the English prisoner gets per week of bread 10 lbs. against
the Russian 25; the Englishman has 8 oz. of cooked meat and 14 pints
of soup against the Russian’s 6 lbs. of meat; whilst the Russian has
besides 1½ lb. of buckwheat and tea against the Englishman’s 5 lbs. of
potatoes, 1½ lb. of suet pudding, 14 pints of porridge and cocoa. In
fact, the Englishman has per week 17½ lbs. of solid food, 3 pints of
soup, 14 pints of porridge and cocoa, whilst the Russian has 33 lbs. of
solid food, and tea.

[2] The annual cost of provisions for each prisoner at Kara is 65
roubles and 72¾ kopecks--say £6 10_s._, and for men’s clothing 39
roubles 8⅜ kopecks, or £4. Women’s clothing is rather less expensive,
so that the annual cost for food and clothing of men is £10 10_s._, and
of women £10. In the new prison at Petersburg my notes give 25 kopecks
a day as the cost for each prisoner, 15 kopecks being spent for food.
This represents for the year 91 roubles 25 kopecks (rather more than
£9), and 54 roubles 75 kopecks (£5 10_s._) respectively, and excludes,
I presume, the item of clothing, since this prison at the capital is
for those awaiting trial, and who consequently wear their own clothes.

CHAPTER VIII.

_THE OBI._

Dimensions of river.--Its tributaries.--Province of Tobolsk.--
Geographical features.--Population.--Voguls.--Samoyedes.--
Intemperance.--Commercial prospects of Obi.--Siberian
produce.--Corn land.--Timber.--Cost of provisions.--Carriage.--
Discoveries of Wiggins.--Followed by Nordenskiöld.--Ship-building
at Tiumen.--Navigation of Kara Sea.--Books on basin of Obi.

The Obi is one of the largest rivers of the Old Continent, and seems
destined to play an important part in opening up to commerce the
immense wealth of Western Siberia. Something, therefore, should be said
of this enormous stream, and the province of Tobolsk through which
it flows. The basin of the river contains more than a million and a
quarter of square miles; an area nearly 2,000 miles in length, and,
at the widest part, 1,200 in breadth.[1] This vast area is covered
with a network of streams, navigable from the Arctic Ocean to the
best parts of Western Siberia, the importance of which can hardly be
overestimated, when it is borne in mind that the success of recent
enterprise has demonstrated the possibility of carrying produce by
water to Europe.

But let us now speak of the province, inhabitants, and aborigines of
Tobolsk, which, though not the largest, is at once the oldest and by
far the most populous of the governments of Siberia. It extends from
the frozen ocean down to the 55th parallel, a distance of 1,200 miles
from north to south, and of 700 miles in its widest part from east to
west, its total area covering 800,000 square miles--a country, that is
to say, seven times as large as Great Britain and Ireland. The surface,
save where the western border approaches the Urals, is flat--so flat,
indeed, that Tobolsk, which is 550 miles from the sea, is only 378 feet
above its level. It has no large lakes, but there are several small
ones, from which salt is obtained.[2]

Ethnographically considered, the province is not so varied as some
others, the people being for the most part Russians, Tatars, Voguls,
Ostjaks, or Samoyedes; the Tatars belonging to the Turkish, and the
Voguls and Ostjaks to the Finnish stock. Some writers classify the
Samoyedes as Finns, but Mr. Howorth considers they should be treated
as a race apart. Mr. Rae, in his “Land of the North Wind,” and Mr.
Seebohm, in his “Siberia in Europe,” have recently given interesting
information concerning the Samoyedes.

The Voguls inhabit a district which coincides pretty closely with the
ridge of the Northern Urals, and were estimated in 1876 at 5,000 in
number. Their country makes them hillmen and foresters, for they lie
within the northern limit of the fir and birch, in the country of the
wolf, the bear, the sable, the glutton, the marten, the beaver, and
the elk. They usually dress like the Russians, and live by hunting,
for they have no plains for the breeding of cattle, and no climate for
agriculture. They are said to use no salt. Their villages are scattered
and small, consisting of from four to eight cabins. Obdorsk is their
trading town. To this town, on the Arctic circle at the mouth of the
Obi, come also the Samoyedes and Ostjaks, of which latter I shall speak
as I saw them further east.

The Samoyedes inhabit a larger tract of country, stretching along
the shore of the frozen ocean from the north-east corner of Europe,
all across the Tobolsk government to the Yenesei, descending to the
region of the Ostjaks, and on some parts of the southern border to
Tomsk. With the Samoyedes I felt already in a measure acquainted,
partly by correspondence from my friend in Finland, and partly by a
near approach to them in 1878, when I travelled to Archangel. Their
numbers were estimated, in 1876, at 5,700. Their riches consist of
herds of reindeer, which they pasture on the mosses of the vast bogs or
_tundras_, from which the animals in winter scrape the snow with their
feet, and thus find their sustenance. To the Samoyede the reindeer is
everything; when alive, the animal draws his sledge, and, when dead,
its flesh is eaten and the skin used for tent and clothing.

[Illustration: MY SAMOYEDE DRESS.]

At Archangel I bought a _sovik_ or tunic, a cap, and a wonderful pair
of Samoyede boots; and as the Samoyede manner of dressing resembles
in its main features that of other northern aborigines in Siberia, I
may as well describe it particularly. In winter, then, to be in the
(Samoyede) fashion, one should dress as follows:--First a pair of short
trousers made of softened reindeer skin, fitting tight, and reaching
down to the knee. Then stockings of _peshki_, the skin of young fawns,
with the hair inwards. Next come the boots, called _poumé leepte_,
which means boot-stockings, reaching almost to the thigh, the sole
being made of old and hard reindeer hide, the hair pointing forward
to diminish the possibility of slipping on the ice or snow. Common
boots have the hair only on the outside. Mine are a gay “lady’s” pair,
lined inside with the softest fur, and made of white reindeer skin
without, sewn with stripes of darker skin, and ornamented in front
with pieces of coloured cloth. The clothing of the lower limbs being
completed, one must work one’s way from the bottom to the top of the
tunic, or _sovik_, which has an opening to put the head through, and
is furnished with sleeves. Mine has a high straight collar, but in some
brought by Mr. Seebohm from the Yenesei this collar rises behind above
the top of the head. The costume is completed by a cap of reindeer
skin, with strings on either side ornamented with pieces of cloth.
The hair of the _sovik_ is worn outside in fine weather, and inside
when it rains; but when prolonged exposure to cold is apprehended, a
second garment, called a “_gus_,” is worn, with the hair outside, and
a close-fitting hood, leaving exposed only a small portion of the
face. The Ostjaks are said to have at the end of the sleeve a glove
or mitten, made of the hardest hide of the reindeer, and suitable for
heavy work, and also a slit under the wrist to allow of the fingers
being put through for finer work. A girdle is worn round the loins,
over which the _sovik_ laps a little, and thus forms a pocket for small
articles.

[Illustration: SAMOYEDES OF ARCHANGEL.]

I have been told, by one well acquainted with the Samoyedes, that
it is often very difficult to trade with them before giving a glass
of _vodka_, and that, when once given, they are irrepressible in
clamouring for more. Men may sometimes be seen who have brought in
their wares to barter for winter necessaries, and who will exchange the
whole for spirits, and reduce themselves to beggary. This has caused
the Russian Government to forbid the sale of spirits in these northern
regions, but the traders smuggle them in.[3]

I must not forget to add that some pleasing accounts of the honesty of
the Samoyedes and Ostjaks were related to us. The merchants of Tobolsk,
for instance, when they go north in the summer to purchase fish, take
with them flour and salt, place them in their summer stations, and,
on their return, leave unprotected what remains for the following
year. Should a Samoyede pass by and require it, he does not scruple to
take what he wants, but he leaves in its place an I.O.U., in the form
of a duplicate stick, duly notched, to signify that he is a debtor;
and then, in the fishing season, he comes to his creditor, compares
the duplicate stick he has kept with the one he left behind, and
discharges his obligation. Captain Wiggins also records that when, in
the winter months of 1876-77, his ship the _Thames_ was laid up in the
Kureika, it was surrounded by hundreds of Ostjaks and other natives,
but that nothing was stolen.

The difficulties of educating and Christianizing these wandering
tribes are very great.[4] I heard, however, that in European Russia
a priest is sent yearly to a town in the far north of the Archangel
province, to baptize the children and marry such among the Samoyedes
of that region as are professedly Christian. Réclus, however, speaks
of the Yurak-Samoyedes as still practising their bloody rites, and
thrusting pieces of raw flesh into the mouths of their idols. In 1877
the Russians opened a school at Obdorsk for the natives. We may hope,
therefore, that for them better days are coming, both by reason of
what the Russians are doing, and also, possibly and indirectly, by the
efforts which certain Englishmen are making to invade the lands of
these aborigines for the purposes of trade.

[Illustration: A YURAK-SAMOYEDE.]

That the commercial value of the basin of the Obi and a large part
of Western Siberia is not yet realized by European capitalists is
the opinion of most of those that I have met who have been there. A
limited demand exists for English merchandise, and the possibility of
an almost unlimited supply of products needed by England. The Altai
mountains, for instance, are rich in silver, copper, and iron, which
last is also abundant in the valley of the Tom. But these are as
nothing compared with grain, for the production of which the country
is admirably fitted. From the southern border of the Tobolsk province,
for 600 miles northward, lies a district of fertile black earth; and
so exclusively is it of this character in the valleys of many of
the rivers, which overflow like the Nile, and leave a rich deposit,
that the geologist finds it difficult to pick up even a few specimen
pebbles. It is like a vast tract of garden land, well suited for the
production of wheat, oats, linseed, barley, and other cereals. Farther
north are prairies for cattle, and a wooded region, inhabited by
various fur-bearing animals, where the pine, fir, and birch abound.
These remarks apply to the valley of the Obi no less than to that of
the Yenesei, where Mr. Seebohm found he could purchase a larch, 60 feet
long, 3 feet diameter at the base, and 18 inches at the apex, for a
sovereign, and that a hundred such could be had to order in a week. In
the city of Tobolsk the cost of provisions, we were told, had advanced
to five times what it was 30 years ago; but even so, the present
price of meat was quoted at 2_d._, and rye flour at a halfpenny, per
pound.[5] Again, north of the wooded region come the _tundras_, over
which roam the reindeer, wild and tame; and about 100 miles up the
Kureika, which flows into the Yenesei, there is a valuable mine of
graphite lying on the surface; besides which the rivers are so full
of fish that the fishermen try not to catch too many, because of the
frequent breaking of their nets.

These riches have long been known to the Siberians, to whom they were
practically useless for export, by reason of expensive land carriage
over the Urals; and the only other way of transit to Europe was through
the Kara Sea, which was supposed to be ice-blocked perpetually. So far
back as the sixteenth century, the English and the Dutch tried hard
to penetrate the Siberian ocean, but were always stopped at Novaia
Zemlia; so that for two centuries no fresh effort was made. Of late
years, however, Captain Wiggins, of Sunderland, who, from his youth,
appears to have been a bold and adventurous seaman, happened to read
in Wrangell’s “Polar Sea” that, three centuries ago, the Russians were
wont to coast from Archangel, for purposes of trade, to Mangasee, on
the Taz, near the gulf of the Obi; and it occurred to him that, if
they could do it in their wretched “kotchkies,” or boats of planking,
fastened to a frame with thongs of leather, and calked with moss, he
ought much more easily to be able to do so with the aid of steam.
With his characteristic love of adventure, therefore, and at his own
expense, he determined to make the attempt; and on June 3rd, 1874, he
left Dundee in the _Diana_, a small steamer of only 104 tons. In little
more than three weeks the Kara Sea was entered, and found free of ice;
and the _Diana_ entered the gulf of Obi on the 5th of August--the
first sea-going vessel that had ever done so. Circumstances did not
permit of his ascending the river; he returned, therefore, paid off his
crew, and employed the winter in making known the feasibility of the
route. He found great difficulty, however, in persuading the mercantile
world, and applied in vain to the Royal Geographical Society for help
to follow up his discoveries. Whereupon there came forward another
explorer to snatch the rose from the captain’s hand; for Professor
Nordenskiöld, seeing what Wiggins had done,--amply supported by his
Government, by private enterprise, and without cost to himself (as it
should be)--followed next year through the Kara Sea, passed the Obi
gulf, and entered the Yenesei, from whence, having sent back his ship,
he returned overland to Petersburg. The feasibility of the sea-route
was now manifest; and, as I passed through Tiumen, Messrs. Wardropper
were building, at a distance of 700 miles from the ocean, two sea-going
ships, for Messrs. Trapeznikoff and Co., of Moscow, to be floated down
the Obi and round the North Cape to England.

It is the opinion of both navigators that “a regular sea communication
between Siberia and Northern Europe, during a short season of the
year, ought not to be attended with greater risks and dangers than
seamen encounter on many other waters now visited by thousands of
vessels.” These are the sober words of Professor Nordenskiöld; and
to the same effect are the words spoken publicly by Captain Wiggins,
in whom we have a brave and honest seaman, and concerning whose work
England need only be ashamed that he received so little support. He
has shown, however, by a voyage made in 1878, that steamers of any
size, but of shallow draught, can go some 400 miles up the Obi. On
the 2nd of August he left Liverpool in the _Warkworth_, an ordinary
steamer of 340 tons net register, chartered through Mr. Wm. Byford,
of London, shipbroker, for sole account of Mr. Oswald Cattley, first
guild merchant of Petersburg, with a miscellaneous cargo, and arrived
in 15 days. He was met by lighters from the Barnaul district, with
wheat, flax, etc., to load the steamer, and then convey inland the
cargo from Liverpool. No mishap occurred on the outward voyage; but,
in consequence of the Obi falling so rapidly, the steamer touched the
ground on coming down the river. He arrived safely, however, in London
on the 3rd of October; thus occupying two months on the passage out
and home. Subsequent trading voyages have been attempted, some of
which failed; but the causes of failure were such as may in future be
overcome, the _Neptune_ of Hamburg having made successful voyages in
1878 and 1880. It appears, then, that the trade only awaits further
development,[6] and if, with specially strengthened steamers, the
carriage of produce can thus be arranged between England and Siberia,
both countries will doubtless be gainers thereby.[7]

FOOTNOTES:

[1] The principal branch of the Obi is the Irtish, which, rising in
Mongolia, passes through Lake Zaizang, about 1,720 feet above the sea
level. It then passes Ustkammenogorsk, in the Altai region, where it
becomes navigable, and, flowing on to Omsk, is subsequently joined by
the Ishim and the Tobol, which last is made up of the Isset, Tura,
and Tavda, the last three descending from the watershed of the Urals.
The Obi proper rises in Siberia, and runs with a rapid course through
the northern ridges of the Altai mountains, amid scenery resembling
in beauty and grandeur that of the Lake of Lucerne. It is joined
north of Tomsk by the Tom and the Tchulim, and then it flows on in a
westerly course, swelled by many minor streams, to its junction with
the Irtish, on the 60th parallel. Before reaching the Tom the current
becomes gentle, and allows of easy navigation, especially in spring,
when water is abundant; but, in approaching the Irtish, shoals become
numerous. The Obi then takes a northerly course, and frequently divides
as it traverses an alluvial and low plain from 40 to 50 miles wide, the
greater part of which, after winter, is inundated. This enormous river,
having now a course of 2,700 miles, falls into the Obi Gulf, which is
400 miles long, and from 70 to 80 miles wide. For a large part of the
year the water flows under ice, which at Tiumen is from 3 to 4 feet,
and on the gulf is 7 feet, thick.

[2] There are nine uyezds in the province, and among its prominent
towns are Turinsk and Tiumen, on the Tura; Kurgan and Yalutorofsk on
the Tobol; Ishim, on the river of that name; and Tara, on the Irtish;
together with Surgut, Berezov, and Obdorsk, on the Lower Obi; whilst
the capital town of the government is Tobolsk. Hoppe’s Almanack for
1880 gives the population at 1,102,302, but the Almanack for 1878
gives a smaller number, which represents an earlier census, and is
mentioned here only for the purpose of giving the reader some idea of
the social position of the inhabitants, who in 1870 were classified
thus: hereditary nobles, 404; personally noble, 3,025; ecclesiastical
persons (which includes not only all grades of clergy, but also their
families), 3,045; a town population of 30,000, and a rural population
of 436,000. To this must be added a military force of 50,000, 25
foreigners, and an aboriginal and mixed population of 142,000; the
exact total of which then amounted to 666,800.

[3] We heard from other sources that for brandy these aborigines
will sell everything short of their souls, and even these would
appear sometimes to tremble in the balance, if the following story
be true:--A Russian priest, it seemed, intent upon adding sheep to
his fold, even though by very questionable means, sometimes gave
drink to the Samoyedes and Ostjaks, and, when they were in a muddled
condition, baptized them, put round their necks the cross, and thus
brought them into the fold of the orthodox Russian Church. On coming
to their senses they sometimes objected to what had been done, but,
like the recruit who took the Queen’s shilling, they were caught, and
the only way to escape was to bribe the priest to erase their names
from his register, and let them go. This was told us by a man who had
lived in the Samoyede country. The story presented such a _bathos_
of proselytizing zeal, that I asked particularly if it were really
true, and was answered in the affirmative. In the time of the Emperor
Nicholas, zealous missionary priests received honours and decorations
in proportion to the number of Pagans and Jews they baptized; but
this, I believe, is not the case now. I heard, further east, of other
questionable means taken by a priest to obtain proselytes from the
aborigines of the Amur. This, however, was done by one who, during my
stay in the town, publicly disgraced his cloth by intemperance. These
enormities, therefore, must be laid to the account, not of the Russian
Church, but to that of certain of its corrupt officials. They are
mentioned here on the principle that not only the truth but the whole
truth should be told; and, further, because I would fain not have to
allude to the subject when I come hereafter to record better things, as
I shall have to do, of the missionary efforts of the Russian Church in
Siberia.

[4] In 1824 a commencement was made to translate into Samoyede the
Gospel of St. Matthew, but it did not go on after 1826. The same gospel
was translated some years ago into the language of the Ostjaks by the
_protohierea_, or chief priest, at Obdorsk, and was forwarded to the
Russian Bible Society, but not published; and, up to the present time,
neither that nor any other part of the New Testament exists, as far as
I know for the Samoyedes, Ostjaks, or Voguls.--Dr. Latham mentions 11
dialects in the Samoyede language, and refers to the work of Professor
Castrén, who, about 30 years ago, studied closely the languages of the
Finnish and Samoyede nations, and to whose labours we owe dictionaries
of some of these tongues,--published after his death by Schiefner.

[5] The surprisingly small cost of provisions on the Obi will be
referred to hereafter; but some idea may be formed, for the purposes of
trade, of the cheapness of provisions, from the fact that a merchant
told me that in 1877 he bought up meat at Tobolsk for less than ½_d._
per English pound, and that, more recently, he sold for the Petersburg
market ten thousand brace of black grouse, capercailzie, and hazel
grouse at 9_d._ a pair all round. The cost for transporting from
Tiumen to Petersburg is as follows: heavy goods, going by land where
necessary, and floated on the rivers where possible, take 12 months
in transit, and cost about 5_s._ a cwt.; if, however, goods are sent
by road to Nijni Novgorod, and thence forwarded by rail, they take 2½
months in transit, and cost up to 12_s._ a cwt.; or, again, if goods
are sent “express”--that is, put into large sledges, carrying each from
a ton to a ton and a half, placed under charge of a man, and drawn by
three horses, to Nijni Novgorod, and thence by rail--the transport
costs 18_s._ a cwt. Notwithstanding this heavy cost of carriage,
however, the merchants at Tiumen can bring their fish from the mouth of
the Obi, forward it to Petersburg, sell the sturgeon at 24_s._, and the
_sterlet_, _nelma_, and _moksun_ at 30_s._ the cwt., and then secure a
handsome profit for everybody concerned.

[6] For further remarks on the commercial prospects of Western Siberia,
see Appendix D.

[7] There are two books written by scientific explorers of the basin
of the Obi, which it may be useful to mention for the sake of any who
wish to study this part of Siberia. One is that of Adolph Erman, who,
for the purpose of making magnetical observations, travelled in 1828
to Tobolsk, and then descended the river as far as Obdorsk; the second
is the German work of Dr. Otto Finsch, who, from Tiumen, ascended the
Irtish, in 1876, towards the Altai mountains, and then, turning north
to Barnaul and Tomsk, followed the Obi to its mouth. Another class
of books, written for the most part by returned exiles, throws more
or less light upon Western Siberia, such as “The Exile of Kotzebue,”
published in 1802, and “Revelations of Siberia,” by a banished lady,
who spent a short time on the Lower Obi at Beresov.

CHAPTER IX.

_TOBOLSK._

Early history of Siberia.--Yermak.--Conquest of the Tatars.--Tobolsk
the first capital.--The exiled bell.--Our visit to the
Governor.--Hard-labour prisons.--Interior arrangements.--“_Travaux
forcés._”--Testimony of prisoners.--Books presented.

Tobolsk, for a long period, was the capital of the whole of Siberia.
This will be a suitable place, therefore, in which to treat briefly
the history of the Russian subjugation of the country at large. It can
hardly be said that Siberia was familiar to the Russians before the
middle of the sixteenth century; for, although at an earlier period
an expedition had penetrated as far as the Lower Obi, yet its effects
were not permanent. Later, Ivan Vassilievitch II. sent a number of
troops over the Urals, laid some of the Tatar tribes under tribute,
and in 1558 assumed the title of “Lord of Siberia.” Kutchum Khan,
however, a lineal descendant of Genghis Khan, punished these tribes
for their defection, and regained their fealty, and so ended again
for a while the result of the Russian expedition. A third invasion,
however, was made in a way quite unexpected. Ivan Vassilievitch II.
had extended his conquests to the Caspian Sea, and opened commercial
relations with Persia; but the merchants and caravans were frequently
pillaged by hordes of banditti, called Don Cossacks, whom the Tsar
attacked, killing some and taking prisoner or scattering others. Among
the dispersed were 6,000 freebooters, under the command of a chief
named Yermak Timofeeff, who made their way to the banks of the Kama,
to a settlement at Orel, belonging to one of the Stroganoffs, where
they were entertained during a dreary winter, and where Yermak heard of
an inviting field of adventure, lying on the other side of the Urals.
Thither he determined to try his fortunes, and after an unsuccessful
attempt in the summer of 1578, started again with 5,000 men in June of
the next year. It was eighteen months before he reached the small town
of Tchingi, on the banks of the Tura; by which time his followers had
dwindled down, by skirmishes, privation, and fatigue, to 1,500 men.
But they were all braves. Before them was Kutchum Khan, prince of the
country, already in position, and, with numerous troops, resolved to
defend himself to the last. When at length the two armies stood face
to face, that of Yermak was further reduced to 500 men, nine-tenths
of those who left Orel having perished. A desperate fight ensued, the
Tatars were routed, and Yermak pushed on to Sibir, the residence of
the Tatar princes. It was a small fortress on the banks of the Irtish,
the ruins of which are still standing, and of which I have seen a
photograph, if I mistake not, among Mr. Seebohm’s collection.

Yermak was now suddenly transformed to a prince, but he had the good
sense to see the precariousness of his grandeur, and it became plain
that he must seek for assistance. He sent, therefore, fifty of his
Cossacks to the Tsar of Muscovy, their chief being adroitly ordered to
represent to the Court the progress which the Russian troops, under
the command of Yermak, had made in Siberia, where an extensive empire
had been conquered in the name of the Tsar. The Tsar took very kindly
to this, pardoned Yermak, and sent him money and assistance. Reinforced
by 500 Russians, Yermak multiplied his expeditions, extended his
conquests, and was enabled to subdue various insurrections fomented by
the conquered Kutchum Khan. In one of these expeditions he laid siege
to the small fortress of Kullara, which still belonged to his foe, and
by whom it was so bravely defended that Yermak had to retreat. Kutchum
Khan stealthily followed the Russians, and, finding them negligently
posted on a small island in the Irtish, he forded the river, attacked
them by night, and came upon them so suddenly as with comparative ease
to cut them to pieces. Yermak perished, but not, it is said, by the
sword of the enemy. Having cut his way to the water’s edge, he tried
to jump into a boat, but, stepping short, he fell into the water, and
the weight of his armour carried him to the bottom. Thus perished
Yermak Timofeeff, and when the news reached Sibir, the remainder of his
followers retired from the fortress, and left the country.

The Court of Moscow, however, sent a body of 300 men, who before long
made a fresh incursion, and reached Tchingi almost without opposition.
There they built the fort of Tiumen, and re-established the Russian
sovereignty. Being soon afterwards reinforced, they extended their
operations, and built the fortresses of Tobolsk, Sungur, and Tara, and
soon gained for the Tsar all the territory west of the Obi. The stream
of conquest then flowed eastward apace. Tomsk was founded in 1604,
and became the Russian head-quarters, whence the Cossacks organized
new expeditions. Yeneseisk was founded in 1619, and, eight years
afterwards, Krasnoiarsk. Passing the Yenesei, they advanced to the
shores of Lake Baikal, and in 1620 attacked and partly conquered the
populous nation of the Buriats. Then, turning northwards to the basin
of the Lena, they founded Yakutsk in 1632, and made subject, though not
without considerable difficulty, the powerful nation of the Yakutes;
after which they crossed the Aldan mountains, and in 1639 reached the
Sea of Okhotsk. Thus in the span of a single lifetime--70 years--was
added to the Russian crown a territory as large as the whole of Europe,
whose ancient capital, as I have said, was Tobolsk.

The citadel and upper town stand on a hill, with a precipitous front,
at the foot of which lies the lower town. The two are now connected by
a winding carriage-road, but formerly the only entrance to the citadel
was by a very steep incline through the fortress gates. From the top of
the hill an extensive view is obtained of the Irtish, flowing close by
the town to its junction with the Tobol. The town below is built with
regularity, and contains many churches and monasteries. The houses are
chiefly of wood, and the streets are paved with the same material. But
the glory of Tobolsk has long been waning, and, when this is the case
with a Siberian town, wooden roadways degenerate into a delusion and a
snare. They rot and remain unrepaired, and one is in danger at night
of tumbling into holes. The population of the town consists mainly of
Russians, Tatars, and Germans, and in it are manufactured leather,
tallow, soap, tiles, boats, and firearms.

In the upper part of the town are some handsome churches, and a
cathedral, near which is the famous bell from Uglitch, that was exiled
by Boris Gudonoff because it gave signal to the insurrectionists. On
their being quelled, the unfortunate bell was deposed, had two of
its ears broken off, was publicly flogged, and sent to Siberia and
forbidden for ever to ring again. But the ban has since been removed,
and it now is hung, not in a belfry, but alone, and assists in calling
the people to church.

Not far from the fortress are the pleasure-gardens, and also the three
hard-labour prisons, which we wished particularly to see. My letter was
therefore presented to M. Lisagorsky, the Governor, who immediately
sent for the police-master; and we proceeded at once to visit our first
hard-labour prisons in Siberia. For many years Tobolsk was a principal
place of punishment, and even now prisoners condemned to the east
frequently spend here the first portion of their time. On the road we
had heard it spoken of as a place of considerable severity, in which
were kept those condemned to “travaux forcés.” On entering, therefore,
I braced my nerves for such horrors as might present themselves. The
authorities seemed determined that the prisoners should not harm us
(or them?); for, as we moved from ward to ward and section to section,
there followed us four soldiers with fixed bayonets. The buildings
were large and of brick, with double windows to keep out the cold;
and I noticed that, in addition to a pillow and covering, mattresses
stuffed with old clothes were also provided for the prisoners. These,
I presume, were furnished by the local committee. They had a few
books, and as one man only in ten could read, it was usual during the
evenings for these to read aloud to their less instructed fellows. I
saw a copy of the “Lives of the Saints” in one room, but no Bibles.
The guard-room for the military was furnished much the same as the
prisoners’ rooms. There were likewise other wards of various sizes: one
for murderers, having five occupants (most of whom, we were told, had
committed their crimes in fits of drunkenness); another for eight men
without passports; and other rooms for thieves. One was occupied by
a man who had run away, and another by a man who, for selling things
belonging to an altar, had been found guilty of sacrilege.

In the first prison were nine single cells, in one of which was a
Polish doctor, a political offender, who had surrounded himself with
such small comforts as Polish books, eau-de-Cologne, and cigarettes,
which last _he_ (by way of privilege) was allowed to smoke. One or two
cells were set apart for punishment.

After marching through room after room, corridor after corridor, now
across yards with prisoners lolling about, and now through sleeping
apartments, where some were not even up, though breakfast-time had long
gone by, I began to wonder where the _work_ was going on, and asked
to be shown the labours of those condemned to “travaux forcés”; upon
which we were taken first into a room for wheelwrights, and next into
a blacksmith’s shop. Then we were introduced to a company of tailors,
and another of shoemakers, and last of all we saw a room fitted for
joiners or cabinet-makers’ work. The amount of labour going on appeared
to be exceedingly small, and the number of men employed (or apparently
that could be employed) to be only a sprinkling of the 732 inmates in
prisons Nos. 1 and 3, and 264 in prison No. 2. I believe some reason
was given why more were not at work, though whether it was a holiday
or bathing-day, or what, I forget; but I came to the conclusion that
they had not appliances enough to find occupation for 1,000 prisoners,
and that one need not have come to Siberia to see the severity of a
hard-labour prison, since the same might just as easily have been
witnessed in Europe. Had I entered with any of the curiosity that takes
people to the chamber of horrors at Madame Tussaud’s, such curiosity
would certainly have remained ungratified. The prisons of Tobolsk
reminded me most of those I had seen in Vienna and Cracow, in which,
however, in some respects, a comparison would result in favour of
Siberia; for at Cracow the convicts had not only to work at the bench
by day, but, if my memory does not fail me, to sleep on it at night.
At Tobolsk a set portion of labour is imposed daily; but when this is
done, the prisoner is at liberty to work for himself. Various specimens
of their handicraft were shown to us.

Prison No. 2 contained criminals who were sentenced to terms ranging
from one year to the whole of life, and who, when liberated, were to
be sent east to live like colonists. I do not know to whom the credit
of superiority is due, whether to the governor of the province, the
governor of the prison, or the local committee; but I was struck with
the fact when I subsequently asked two prisoners who had been deported
across Siberia, as to which prison west of Irkutsk they thought, from
their point of view, the best, they both mentioned that of Tobolsk. We
left with the governor of this province nearly 500 Scripture portions,
such as copies of the Gospels, Psalms, and the New Testament in
Russian, Polish, German, French, and Tatar, together with 400 copies
of the illustrated _Russian Workman_, and 1,000 tracts, his Excellency
kindly undertaking to distribute the papers and tracts in the schools,
and in the best way he could through the province generally, and
to place the books for permanent use, not in the libraries, but
within reach of each person in every room of every prison, hospital,
poor-house, or similar institution under his administration. Having
made these arrangements, committed them to paper in the form of a
letter, and delivered it to the governor on the Monday evening, we
awaited the arrival of the steamer to take us to Tomsk.

CHAPTER X.

_FROM TOBOLSK TO TOMSK._

The steamer _Beljetchenko_.--Fellow-passengers.--Card-playing.--Cost
of provisions.--Inspection of convicts’ barge.--An exile
fellow-passenger.--Obi navigation.--The Ostjaks.--Their
fisheries.--Feats of archery.--Marriage customs.

The Siberians are rich in time. Days to them are of little consequence;
hours of no moment. With them “Time is _not_ money.” “What difference,”
said a coachman at Ekaterineburg to a friend of mine for whom he
had lost his train, “what difference one way or other could an hour
make, or for that matter _two_ hours either?” Moreover, the arrival
and departure of steamers are not announced by a.m. and p.m., but
the date simply is given; and of course you are expected to be in
readiness to start at any moment of the twenty-four hours. We deemed
it unsafe, therefore, to sleep at the hotel on Monday night, the 2nd
of June, lest we should be left behind; so, getting our tarantass and
luggage on the pier, I crept inside the vehicle, and there spent the
early part of the night, till, at dawn, the steamer arrived. For a
Siberian steamer, the _Beljetchenko_, belonging to Messrs. Kourbatoff
and Ignatoff, was good, and her dimensions, compared with others upon
which I subsequently travelled, were large. She was a paddle-boat, with
fore-cabins and saloons for first-class passengers, and after-cabins
for those of the second class, whilst the deck was allotted to a
considerable number of third-class passengers and discharged soldiers
who were “homeward bound.” All told, the passengers, I should imagine,
could not have counted less than from 100 to 150. Among those of
the first class were some pleasant people, such as officers of the
army, navy, and gendarmerie, and a few school girls going home for
summer holidays from Petersburg, a distance of 3,000 miles. There
were specimens also of the ubiquitous Russian merchant, travelling on
business. Our first impressions of these travellers were unfavourable.
Some of the gentlemen were taking leave, if I mistake not, at Tobolsk,
of friends, and this event is usually accompanied in Siberia with
the drinking of a great deal of wine; so that, when one of the naval
officers came to take his place in the sleeping saloon, he was in a
condition “unbecoming an officer and a gentleman.” We were spared
further inconvenience of this kind by the captain, who had received
injunctions from one of the proprietors, Mr. Ignatoff, to look after
“Mr. Missionary,” as the captain insisted upon calling me, and on which
I did not undeceive him. For the payment of three second-class fares
he gave us for sleeping the second-class ladies’ cabin--intended for
five persons--in which we were comfortable enough at night, whilst we
sat where we pleased by day. The captain was also instructed to charge
£2 instead of £4 for the carriage of our tarantass, and also to deal
leniently with our heavy excess of baggage and books. As our voyage
lasted several days, it was not a matter for surprise that time hung
heavily upon the hands of some of the passengers, but I was hardly
prepared for the amount of card-playing with which much of it was
killed. In no country that I have visited have I seen a tenth part of
the card-playing that I witnessed in Siberia. The Russian Government
exercises a monopoly in the manufacture of playing-cards, the profits
being applied to the support of the Foundling Hospital at Moscow,
and 110 tons of cards are annually carried on the Petersburg-Moscow
railway. I am told that the amount of card-playing in European Russia
also is very considerable; that there are clubs in Petersburg where
the gambling is frightful. As for our fellow-passengers, there was a
clique who played by day and quarrelled by night, and sometimes did
not leave off their games till seven in the morning. By the time the
journey was five days old, £20 had been lost by a young officer, who
told me that in the small towns of the interior, in which soldiers are
quartered, where there is little congenial society and nothing to do,
card-playing is the daily constant resource of the officers. The habit,
moreover, is not confined to men, but is indulged in, though apparently
in a less degree, by women also. On board the steamer the game was
not accompanied by excessive drinking, and, happily, several of the
passengers--especially the ladies--spoke French, and a few could read
English, so that in their society we passed an agreeable time.

The fares for travelling and the charges for provisions were low. The
three second-class tickets for the whole journey of 8 days cost only
£4, and for a dinner of 4 or 5 courses--soup, fish, meat, game, and
pastry,--only 2_s._ were charged. I remembered this tariff with a sigh
in California, where the price was double for a meal not half so
good, with wretched attendance into the bargain. It must be confessed,
however, that provisions on the river’s bank were extremely cheap--so
cheap that one almost hesitates to put it on paper. At Surgut I was
offered a pair of ducks for 2½_d._; 10 brace of _riabchiks_, a sort
of grouse about the size of a partridge, cost 1_s._; a couple of fish
called _yass_, weighing, I supposed, 1½ lb. each, were offered for
1½_d._; and 10 large fish, as a lot, for ¼_d._ each. At Juchova I was
offered for 5_d._ a couple of pike, weighing probably 20 lbs., and a
live duck for 1¼_d._; whilst at the villages in the district we passed,
which are not easily accessible, a young calf, I was told, could be
bought for 6_d._

[Illustration: THE “IRTISH,” A CONVICT BARGE ON THE OBI.]

As we ploughed along, there was tugged at our stern a barge laden with
convicts, to which Dr. Johnson’s definition of a ship as “a prison
afloat” would with accuracy apply. The barge was a large floating
hull, called the _Irtish_, 245 feet long, and 30 feet beam, 11 feet
high from the keel to the deck, with a 4-feet water-line. It was made
expressly for the transport of convicts, of whom it was intended to
carry 800, with 22 officers. Below it was fitted with platforms for
sleeping, like those described in the jails, whilst at either end
of the craft were deck-houses eight feet high, containing a small
hospital, an apothecary’s shop, and apartments for the officers and
soldiers in charge. The space between the deck-houses was roofed
over, and the sides closed by bars and wires, painfully suggestive of
a menagerie, or reminding one of the cage-cells in the old jail at
Edinburgh. The vessel had neither masts nor engines, and bore a pretty
close resemblance to a child’s Noah’s ark. At one of our stoppages
I was trying to make a sketch of this unique craft, when the officer
came and invited me to inspect it. We therefore went on board, with
hands and pockets full of reading matter for distribution; and if the
bars were suggestive of a menagerie, so, I must add, was the mode in
which the occupants received our literary food. Not that they were
rude, but so delighted were they with the pictures, and so eager to
get the papers that contained them, that we found it hard work to
hold our own. We had afterwards an opportunity of testing the value
in money of this apparent eagerness for reading material. In former
years I had always _given_ both Scriptures and tracts. This year it
was urged, and I think rightly, that it is better, when possible, to
sell them. To offer them, however, for money to convicts seemed almost
a mockery. Nevertheless we tried it, and requested the officer to let
us know how many prisoners would like to give 2½_d._ for a copy of
the New Testament, or the Book of Psalms. To my surprise he came at a
subsequent stopping-place, bringing the money for 44 copies, and said
that one man was in such haste to get his book that he had been to him
three times to ask for it. As we proceeded on our course, and, looking
back, saw the broad keel of the barge ploughing its way after us, one
could not help feeling for its strange freight, and the many heavy
hearts that were being tugged along further and further from the dear
place called “home.” But such thoughts received little enlargement at
the halting-places, when the barge was drawn up to the bank; for the
hilarity thereon of men, women, and children was much more noisy than
that of the free people on the steamer. One might have thought that
the convicts were having a good time of it; and it had been observed
to us at Tiumen, as a noteworthy remark, that although, of the 800
prisoners on board, probably 250 would be murderers, nevertheless
20 soldiers would suffice to control them. They had a considerable
amount of freedom on the barge, though they could not go, of course,
indiscriminately to whatever part of the vessel they pleased.

At one of the halting-places we dropped a Polish exile, a doctor. He
was the same man we had seen with his little comforts in the prison
at Tobolsk. He was not on the barge, but travelled, as such prisoners
usually do, on the steamer, as a second-class passenger, in a cabin
near ours, with a gendarme who kept him, and who, we had opportunities
of observing, never allowed him to go for a moment out of his sight.
We had ingratiated ourselves into the gendarme’s favour by giving
him books, as we had given also to the soldiers, passengers, and all
on board, and we wished to chat with the prisoner; but his guard was
faithful to his duty, and would not suffer him to be spoken to. When
it was time for the prisoner to go on shore, he walked erect out of
his cabin, dressed in private clothes, wearing shaded spectacles, and
smoking a cigar. But he was landed at a miserable place on the 62nd
parallel, where, at the beginning of June, the leaves were not out, and
it had not ceased occasionally to snow; at a village where an educated
man could, I presume, find little agreeable society or congenial
occupation. His hair was already grey, and as he sat upon his little
stock of clothes, with the gendarme standing near, and watching our
ship as it glided away, we felt we had left him in a sorry place in
which to spend his declining years. We heard that he had a second time
incurred punishment, by trying to escape from Nertchinsk. But it was a
melancholy illustration of the meaning of Siberian exile.

The distance from Tobolsk to Tomsk by water is 1,600 miles, which we
accomplished in 8 days. We overtook more than one freight steamer, but
saw few other vessels, and no timber rafts. The banks were low and
flat, and houses of rare occurrence. On the second day from Tobolsk we
stopped at Samarova, where the Irtish runs into the Obi; and on the
third day we stopped at Surgut, a place of 1,200 inhabitants. Three
days later we touched at Narim, which has a population of 2,000.

We did not land sufficiently near to any of these towns to allow of a
visit, and the steamer picked up and set down few passengers. Herds
of half-wild horses were seen from time to time on the prairies. They
were not shod, were unfamiliar with the taste of oats, and had in the
summer to find their own living. In the winter they are used for the
transport of dried and frozen fish. The natives have an ingenious way
of catching fish through holes in the ice, especially in the case of
the sturgeon, which in winter congregate in muddy hollows in the bed
of the river, lying motionless in clusters for the sake of warmth.
The Ostjak cuts a hole above them, sets a spring rod, and then forms
a number of balls of clay, which he makes red hot and throws into the
river below his bait. The heat rouses the sturgeon, which rise, swim
up stream, and are caught. There are large fisheries in the gulfs of
the Obi and the Taz, where the Russians pay rent for the sandbanks to
the Samoyedes, and, having caught the fish in summer, they put them in
ponds till the approach of winter. They are then taken out and frozen,
and in this condition sent as _fresh_ fish a journey of 2,000 miles to
Petersburg.[1] A large quantity of dried fish is also forwarded from
the Obi to the great fair of Nijni Novgorod. Furs and hides likewise
are sent there from the northern part of the province, together with
rye, barley, oats, and buckwheat from the south.

[Illustration]

Nothing, however, that we saw on the banks was more interesting perhaps
than the aborigines, especially the Ostjaks, some of whom appeared
paddling in their tiny canoes, and stealthily gliding among the bushes
as the steamer approached. The Ostjaks inhabit a tract of country on
either side of the Irtish and Obi, extending as far north as Obdorsk,
on the south to Tobolsk, and nearly as far east as Narim. There is
also a territory over which they roam on the left bank of the Yenesei
below Turukhansk, though Mr. Howorth thinks that these are miscalled
Ostjaks, being really Samoyedes. Their numbers are estimated at 24,000.
They have no towns or villages, though they sometimes settle among the
Russians. We saw on the banks the frames of some of their _yourts_,
or tents, though the people were just then driven by the floods
to higher ground. In the neighbourhood of the Obi they possess no
reindeer; their wealth consists of boats, fishing-tackle, clothes,
and utensils; and a nomad Ostjak who possesses goods to the value of
£10 is deemed a rich man. In this district they have ceased to wear
their native costume; and are become more or less Russianized; but the
Ostjaks of the Yenesei still dress in the costume of their forefathers.
These people are short of stature, with dark hair and eyes, and flat
faces; in complexion and general appearance those we saw were not much
unlike some of the Siberians. They live principally by fishing and
the chase, and are very skilful in the use of the bow. In shooting
squirrels, for instance, they use a blunt arrow, and take care to hit
the animal on the head, so as not to damage the fur.[2]

[Illustration: OSTJAKS ON THE OBI, IN SUMMER YOURT.]

I had heard of these aboriginals, before leaving England, from Miss
Alba Hellman in Finland, who thus writes of some of their marriage
customs in expressive English: “The Ostjaks are carrying on the most
shameless commerce with their daughters. A girl is a valuable thing
while she is yet in her parents’ home. She then gets all possible care
and protection. But is it therefore that she may be a good daughter,
wife, or mother? By no means for that cause: an Ostjak father has the
same object in his daughter’s feeding as he has in feeding his animals.
Well fed, she will not long stay at home without the father getting
good payment for her. The price of an ordinary wife was at the river
Irtish (on the Obi the price is higher), first, from £20 to £30 in
money; next, a horse, a cow, and an ox; then from 7 to 10 pieces of
clothing; and lastly, a pood of meal, a few hops, and a measure of
brandy for the wedding feast. And when a man cannot afford to pay all
these things, he often steals the girl. So says Professor Castrén.”

FOOTNOTES:

[1] The fish of the Obi are generally pike, perch, bleak, and a kind of
red mullet, and are of less importance than the migratory fish from the
sea. These are chiefly the sturgeon, the _nelma_, and _muksum_, several
kinds of salmon, and the herring. In the first weeks of June, when the
ice breaks up, they commence their ascent of the river, avoiding the
rapid parts, the quick swimmers soon getting ahead of the rest: 30
miles below Obdorsk they form shoals, and have all passed in a week,
by which time, 150 miles higher, the quickest salmon arrive. The nelma
comes two days later, but the sturgeon not till five days afterwards.
Erman reckons this annual migration of fish to be at the lowest
computation 26,000,000.

[2] Their bows are 6 feet long, with a diameter of an inch and a
quarter in the middle, and are made of a slip of birch joined by
fish-glue to a piece of hard pine-wood. The arrows are 4 feet long, the
head consisting of either a ball for shooting small fur animals, or an
iron spear-like head for killing larger game. The bows are exceedingly
powerful, and the archers wear on the left forearm a strong bent plate
of horn to deaden the blow of the string. We heard of feats of archery
accomplished by them which far outdo the traditional deed of William
Tell. Our captain told a lady on board that on one occasion he saw
an Ostjak mark an arrow in the middle with a piece of charcoal and
discharge it in the air, whilst a second man, before it reached the
ground, shot at the descending shaft and struck it on the mark.

CHAPTER XI.

_TOMSK._

The province of Tomsk.--The city of Tomsk.--Visit to the
Governor.--The prison.--Institution for prisoners’ children.--A
Lutheran minister.--Finnish colonies in Siberia.--Their pastoral
care.--Dissuaded from visiting Minusinsk.--Distribution of Finnish
books.--_Détour_ to Barnaul.

The province of Tomsk is, in some respects, the most favoured in
Siberia. It is not so huge and unwieldy as some of the others, and does
not, like its two neighbours of Tobolsk and Yeneseisk, extend to the
Frozen Sea; but, beginning on the 62nd parallel for its northernmost
boundary, it continues southward as far as the borders of Mongolia,
from which it is separated by the Altai mountains. The climate is
good, and the land is valuable for agricultural purposes, while the
mountainous districts are exceedingly rich in minerals.[1]

The city of Tomsk is situated on the river Tom, whence it derives
its name, and has a population of 30,000. Its streets are wide but
steep, and in the centre of the town is a good specimen of that
prominent feature in so many Russian towns--a _Gostinnoi Dvor_ (bazaar
or market). It is an aggregation of shops and open spaces, to which
the stranger is constantly sent for anything he may require. If a
countrywoman has butter or milk to sell, she takes up her position
there; so do hucksters with small wares. Larger establishments are to
be found elsewhere, but the _Gostinnoi Dvor_ of a Russian town contains
a concentration of goods that supplies all wants. Many of the houses
at Tomsk are of brick; it boasts of several hotels, two banks, and two
photographers. In a distant part of the town is an imposing building,
the law courts, etc., also a large church or cathedral, which is still
unfinished.

We called upon M. Sooproonenko, the Governor, who was very obliging,
and sent us at once to see the two prisons, in one of which criminals
are kept, whilst in the other they only stay whilst passing through to
their destinations. The condition of prison affairs in Tomsk showed
that there was an active local committee. The jail in which criminals
are permanently confined is a heavy brick building, with low, vaulted
corridors, in which prisoners may be kept for terms varying from one
month to four years. The authorities complained that in winter it is
damp. This was one of the few prisons where there was a school, which
such prisoners as chose might attend; but out of 640, when we were
there, only 30 did so. Among those confined was an old man who had
been condemned to hard labour further east, but on his way his penalty
had been mitigated, and he allowed to stay at Tomsk. There was some
little show of work going on in the shoemakers’, carpenters’, and
blacksmiths’ shops; but the great mass of the prisoners was herded
in rooms where they had nothing to do. When invited by the Governor
to point out any defects I had noticed, I mentioned, first, that I
thought all should work. He replied that they have no laws to compel
them (I presume he spoke of a certain _class_ of prisoners), and that
the severest punishment they are allowed to inflict is three days’
solitude with bread and water. We saw so many prisons in Siberia in
which the majority of the prisoners had nothing to do, that the sight
became wearisome; and when the authorities told us that they could
not find them work, I was vain enough inwardly to say, “It strikes
me that _I_ could.” But on reaching San Francisco, I altered my mind
when inspecting a prison managed on modern principles, where they can
manufacture in a day more than a thousand doors, to say nothing of
hundreds of other articles of wood, leather, iron, and I know not what;
and yet, even there, they had men condemned to hard labour twirling
their thumbs for want of a job. The difficulty of employing a large
number of Siberian convicts is vastly enhanced by the difficulty and
the expense of the carriage of raw materials, and the comparatively
small demand for manufactured articles.

Our distribution of books was highly appreciated at Tomsk, and one
prisoner gave me in return a paper-knife he had made, for which he
would accept no money. In the underground storehouse we saw quass
in huge vats worthy of an abbot’s cellar, and large receptacles for
sour cabbage, of which the Russians make soup. The cabbage is salted
in September and pressed, and in ten days is ready for use. The store
contained also a large number of tongues, which cost on the spot from
2_d._ to 6_d._ each. In one of the wards, the men who formed the
church choir asked permission to sing us a hymn, which they did very
creditably.

The most pleasing part of our visit, however, was that made to an
adjoining building within the prison grounds--an institution for the
children of prisoners and of the poor, which had been built by the
local committee. The matron apologized that they were not in holiday
trim, but the place was as neat and clean as could be. We called in the
afternoon. The girls had an English sewing-machine, and were busy at
work, whilst some were embroidering elaborate initials in the corners
of handkerchiefs, to the orders of ladies in the town. Some of the
boys were learning shoemaking, whilst others were taught to be of use
in waiting on the doctors in the prisoners’ hospital. Such progress do
some of them make that one boy had recently left the school to go to
help a doctor at the gold-mines, for which he was to receive his board
and lodging, and £30 a year. There are certain funds in connection with
the institution, by means of which the girls, on leaving to go out to
service, receive various gifts up to about £50; and with this, one of
the committee told us, they not unfrequently take away an education
which makes them better informed than their Siberian mistresses.

Before we had been many hours in Tomsk we discovered an English lady,
with whom and her husband we dined, and who told us that a certain
Finnish pastor--Roshier, who had been named to me in my Finnish
correspondence--was staying in the town. We therefore sought him out to
ask advice concerning the whereabouts and the mode of approach to some
of the Finnish colonies which I was anxious to visit.

The reader will perhaps wonder how there come to be Finnish colonies
in Siberia at all. Often when a Finnish prisoner is condemned to a
certain term of imprisonment in his own country, he petitions the
Grand Duke, who is the Emperor of Russia, to send him instead to
Siberia as a colonist, and the request is usually granted. I recollect
meeting a young man at Wiborg, in the castle prison, in 1874, who
told me that, rather than serve for three years as a convict in the
town of his birth, he had asked to be allowed to go to Siberia. The
Finns do not usually speak Russian. Consequently, on arriving in
Siberia, they are quasi-foreigners, and, accordingly, are not scattered
hither and thither, but put together in villages with Lithuanian,
Esthonian, Lettish, and other convicts from the Baltic provinces.
Of this nature are the colonies I wished to visit near Omsk, called
Ruschkova and Jelanka, each with 400 inhabitants, and near to which
are four villages, bearing the home-names of Riga, Reval, Narva, and
Helsingfors. Another colony of a similar kind is Werchne Sujetuk, about
50 miles south of Minusinsk.[2] Pastor Roshier had been settled there
for 15 years, and was returning home. The Finnish Government were
looking out for one to fill his place, to whom they offered a stipend
of £150 per annum; but when I heard from Mr. Roshier that he had not
conversed with an educated fellow-countryman for 10 years, that he
could speak no Russian, and that his dwelling had been in the midst of
convicts only, I was not surprised to hear that the Finnish Government
had a difficulty in finding a successor.

For my own part, it had been my intention certainly to turn aside to
Werchne Sujetuk, thinking to go across country to Minusinsk, return by
raft on the Yenesei, or by road, to Krasnoiarsk, and there await the
arrival of the remainder of our luggage--plans which a better knowledge
of the country afterwards taught me were visionary indeed. When we did
subsequently arrive at Krasnoiarsk, we found persons who, on account
of the floods, had been waiting a fortnight to go to Minusinsk.[3] The
remainder, however, of our baggage was not yet come from Tiumen, and
could not arrive for a week; so we agreed meanwhile to make a _détour_
to Barnaul. There we should find a prison, and another in the same
direction, at Biisk, to which we could send; priests and people would
be benefited by the way; and we hoped to see the Emperor’s _usine_
for the smelting of gold and silver. This looked more inviting, even
though it involved a journey of 700 miles, than loitering at Tomsk for
a week. We were now to begin tarantass travelling in earnest, which
I think had better be once for all described, partly for the benefit
of the uninitiated, who may possibly become Siberian travellers, and
partly that the reader may not be wearied hereafter by a too frequent
recurrence to the same topic.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] It is the most populous province of Siberia after that of Tobolsk,
and contains 838,000 inhabitants. Another reference to Hoppe’s Almanack
shows the vast preponderance of its rural population over that of other
provinces, and shows also a large population of the upper classes, many
of whom, doubtless, are descendants of noble exiles. In 1875 the number
of hereditary nobles in the province was 2,400; ecclesiastical persons,
4,000; town population, 4,400; and rural population, 725,000; whilst
the military forces numbered 30,000; foreigners, 48; and the mixed
races (chiefly Tatars, Teleuti, and Altai Kalmuks) numbered 130,000,
the population being spread over an area of half a million square
miles--a territory bigger than any two countries in Europe except
Russia. The government is divided into six uyezds. It has seven prisons
and four large hospitals. The principal towns are Barnaul, Kainsk,
Biisk, Kuznetsk, Mariinsk, Narim, and Tomsk, which last is the capital
and residence of the Governor.

[2] Since 1850, it appeared, 541 persons have been sent there, of whom
142 are dead; 20 for fresh crimes were transported further east, and 80
have disappeared--probably run away to live by pilfering and plunder.
Some of the last-named possibly have been killed by the Russians
and buried; for when the peasants catch men of this kind doing them
mischief, so far off are the courts, and so difficult is the bringing
of witnesses, that they take the law into their own hands, and put the
malefactors to death. In all, there should be now 547 persons living
at Werchne Sujetuk, including 358 Finns. But about 300 live away at
the gold-mines, and so it comes to pass that not more than 10 or 12
families reside there regularly.

[3] Apart from and in addition to these difficulties, however, there
were other considerations that dissuaded me from going--such as the
small number of Finns I should find, my ignorance of their language,
their not being in particular need of books, and the offer of the
pastor to enclose mine in a parcel he was sending to the catechist
he had left in charge. All this caused me to listen to what proved
good advice, and instead of going, I determined to send about a third
of my books by the pastor. When further east, I elected to go home
through America, consequently another third of my books was sent to the
Lutheran pastor at Omsk. Some were left also for the Lutheran pastor at
Irkutsk; and I gave the remainder to various prisons and persons for
the Finns in the east.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XII.

_SIBERIAN POSTING._

Travelling by post-horses.--The courier, crown, and ordinary
_podorojna_.--The tarantass.--Packing.--Harness.--Horses.--
Roads.--Pains and penalties.--Crossing rivers.--Cost.--Speed.--
Post-houses.--Meat and drink.

When you purpose to travel “post” in Russia, your first business is to
get a _podorojna_, or permit, of which there are three kinds. The first
is a “courier’s” podorojna, which is used by passengers travelling
in hot haste upon important--generally Government--business. Each
post-master reserves three horses in case a courier should arrive, in
which event only a certain number of minutes is allowed for changing
the horses, and away goes the courier at breathless speed. Not long
before my visit an exile, condemned to the east, had reached the city
of Tomsk, a distance of nearly 3,000 miles from the capital, when,
for some reason, his presence was required by the authorities in
Petersburg. They telegraphed, therefore, that he was to be brought back
_couriersky_; whereupon he was placed between two gendarmes, and then
over the stones they rattled the bones of that unfortunate man, till in
11 days they brought him to his destination. This sort of podorojna is
reserved for special messengers and persons of importance; but, after
hearing the foregoing story, I came to the conclusion that it is not
every one who would appreciate the privilege of travelling couriersky.

Number 2 is a “crown” podorojna, recognised by post-boys who cannot
read by its having two seals. This is not paid for, and is usually
given to officers and persons on Government service, and sometimes to
favoured private individuals. The bearer crosses bridges and ferries
free, and need not pay for greasing his wheels; but its great advantage
is that, when there is a lack of horses, the owner of a crown podorojna
has a preferential claim. Podorojna number 3 is that used by ordinary
travellers, for which at the outset you have to pay, by way of tax,
a trifling amount per verst, according to the distance you intend to
travel.

And now, having secured your podorojna, your next concern is for a
vehicle. If you simply take that to which your podorojna entitles
you, it will be a roofless, seatless, springless, semi-cylindrical
tumbril, mounted on poles which connect two wooden axletrees, and out
of this at every station you will have to shift yourself and your
baggage. This is called travelling _pericladnoi_. From such a fate,
gentle reader, may you be delivered! No, better buy a conveyance of
your own. The vehicle I have alluded to is called by the general name
of _tarantass_. The one you will purchase, though in many respects
similar, and by some called also a tarantass, will be dignified by the
post-boys with the appellation of an “equipage.” Like the other, it
will be mounted on poles for springs, but the axles and body of the
carriage will be of iron, and it will have a seat for the driver, and
a hood, with a curtain and apron, under which you may sit by day and
wherein you can sleep by night. The equipage may cost you from £20 to
£30, and, if given to mercantile transactions, you may consider on the
way how much you will gain or lose (for that is possible) by the sale
of your vehicle at the end of the journey. A third way is to get a
vehicle from one who--having come to Tomsk, for instance, to proceed
to Russia--wishes his carriage taken back to Irkutsk. It was our good
fortune to borrow the two we used, one being kindly lent by Mr. Oswald
Cattley.

The packing of the vehicle requires nothing short of a Siberian
education. Avoid boxes as you would the plague! The edges and corners
will cruelly bruise your back and legs. Choose rather flat portmanteaus
and soft bags, and spread them on a layer of hay at the bottom of the
tarantass. Then put over them a thin mattress, and next a hearth-rug.
When we entered Tiumen, women besieged us with these hearth-rugs, as
I thought them. Not knowing what they were for, I could not conceive
what they meant by such conduct. Had my companion been a lady, I should
have deemed that they thought us on a bridal trip, and about to set
up housekeeping. But I was innocent of all such devices, and chased
the women away. When it was discovered what the carpets were for, I
regretted not having bought one. Next, put at the back of the carriage
two or more pillows of the softest down, for which please send on your
order in advance, because these must be bought as opportunity offers.
If a housewife has finished the manufacture of a down pillow she wishes
to sell, she will bring it into Ekaterineburg to market; but, if you
want such a thing on a given day, you may search the town and not get
one.

You may now get in, cover your legs with a rug, and watch them
harness the horses. Siberian post-horses are sorry objects to look
at, but splendid creatures to go. A curry-comb probably never touches
their coats; but, under the combined influence of coaxing, scolding,
screaming, and whip, they attain a pace which in England would be
adjudged as nothing short of “furious driving.” They are smaller than
English horses, but much hardier, and are driven two, three, four,
or even five or more, abreast. The Russian harness is a complicated
affair, the most noticeable feature being the _douga_, or arched
bow, over the horse’s neck. To the foreigner this looks a needless
incumbrance, but the Russian declares that it holds the whole concern
together. The rods are fastened to the ends of the bow, and the horse’s
collar in turn to the shafts, so that the collar remains a fixture,
against which the horse is obliged to push. The shafts are supported by
a saddle and pad on the back, and do not touch the horse’s body. The
centre horse only is in rods; those on either side, how many soever
they be, are called a “pair,” and are merely attached by ropes. If you
have been wise, you have bought at the _Gostinnoi Dvor_ about 20 yards
of inch-rope to go all round the back of the vehicle, and to which are
attached the two outer horses. The post-men are supposed to supply
such a rope, but theirs are often thin and rotten. It is well, too, to
take several fathoms of half-inch rope. One of the wheels may become
rickety, and threaten to fall to pieces, in which case the rope will
be needed to interlace the spokes. A third supply should be laid in of
still smaller cord, in case of spraining a pole or the rods. Do not
forget to purchase besides a hatchet. All these we took, and more than
all were wanted.

When the driver, or _yemstchik_, has taken his seat, the horses will
not stay a minute. Indeed, in some districts, the horses’ heads are
held while the driver mounts, and, when freed, they start with a bound.
And now begin your pains and penalties!

When, at Nijni Tagilsk, we descended by ladders 600 feet into a
copper-mine, and came up in the same manner, we were warned that on
the following day we should be terribly stiff; but I aver that the
consequences were as nothing compared with those of the first day’s
travelling by tarantass. The roughness of the roads and the lack of
springs combine to cause a shaking up, the very remembrance of which
is painful. Let the reader imagine himself about to descend a hill
at the foot of which is a stream, crossed by a corduroy bridge of
poles. The ordinary tarantass has no brake, the two outer horses are
in loose harness, and the one in rods has no breeching. The whole
weight of the machine, therefore, is thrown on his collar, and the
first half of the hill is descended as slowly as may be. But the speed
soon increases, first because the rod-horse cannot help it, and next
because an impetus is desired to carry you up the opposite hill. All
three horses, therefore, begin to pull, and, long before the bridge is
reached, you are going at a flying pace, and everybody has to “hold
on.” The bridge is approached, and now comes the excruciating moment.
Most likely--almost to a certainty--the rain has washed away the
earth a good six inches below the first timber of the bridge, against
which bump! go your fore-wheels, and thump! go your hind ones; whilst
fare and driver are alike shot up high into the air. I have a lively
recollection of these ascents, some of which were so high that, when
travelling from Archangel to Lake Onega, we had the hood removed,
lest our skulls should strike the top. Happily, all roads are not so
perilously rough, and, briefly to summarize my experience of them,
I should say that those of Tobolsk and Tomsk are muddy, causing the
yemstchiks, when possible, to avoid them--to go into lanes and by-ways,
over hillocks and fallen timber, and down into holes and ditches, all
of which give variety to the route. The Yeneseisk roads deserve nothing
but praise; they are well kept, and would be reckoned good in England.
The Irkutsk ways deteriorate, and those beyond Baikal are worse than
all; for the Buriat yemstchiks drive you furiously over hillocks,
rocks, and stones.

Nor are roads the only things to be traversed; there are numerous
streams and rivers--some with bridges, but more without. Through some
of these your horses simply walk; on others there is a well-kept ferry,
upon which you and your carriage are drawn or rowed. On one occasion
our vehicle was put on the ferry, and the horses made to swim the
stream. It sometimes happens, however, especially in early spring,
that the ice or floods have carried away or damaged the ferry, and
a flat-bottomed boat is temporarily substituted. In this manner we
crossed the Tom. The tarantass was lifted by degrees into the boat,
one wheel at a time. The boat was only just wide enough to take the
vehicle, and we were advised to let down the hood, lest the wind should
blow us over. This was about the only time I felt nervous, and I
confess being thankful when we safely reached the opposite shore.

The cost of these pleasures of travel is not so great in Siberia as
might be supposed. In the western division, where pasture is abundant,
the hire of each horse is only about a halfpenny per mile. In Eastern
Siberia the fare is exactly double. Horses are changed about every
ten or fifteen miles, and each new driver looks for a gratuity,
euphemistically called “money for _tea_.” On the amount of the “tip”
depends your speed. Ten kopecks are often given, but we found fifteen
put the boys in better humour, and we made from 100 to 130 miles a
day. Two hundred versts in a day and night, for summer travelling, is
considered good, and we sometimes did it; but given a Russian merchant,
bound for a fair, where his early arrival will give him command of the
market, and then a “tip” of, say, a rouble a stage will in winter get
him over 300 versts, or 200 miles a day. It is common to hear Siberians
boast of quick journeys made thus, but they are usually attained only
at cruel cost to the horses. The reader may judge what speed can be
made from a story told us at Tiumen of a Governor-General of Eastern
Siberia, whom the late Emperor, some 12 winters ago, required on an
emergency at Petersburg, a distance from Irkutsk of 3,700 miles. The
General was put in a bear’s skin, wrapped up like a bundle, placed in
a sledge, and in 11 days was brought to the capital. Several horses
dropped dead on the way, an ear was cut from each as a voucher, and
the journey continued. When governors of provinces travel, they are
supplied with the best horses in the villages, and sometimes have them
changed at the half stage, so as to spare the animals whilst securing
extra speed.

Having said this much about the vehicles, horses, and roads, the reader
may wonder how it fares with the traveller in the matters of lodging
and board, which brings me to the subject of post-houses. These, like
the post-horses, are the property of the Government, and are of very
varied quality, from the best--which have all the appearance and the
comfort of a roomy, well-established English farm-house or country
inn--to the worst, which are little better than hovels. Certain
features, however, are common to them all. On one side of the door, as
you enter, will be found the room in which the post-folks and their
children live, and on the other will be one or more rooms reserved
for travelling guests. The guests’ room will never contain less than
the following articles: a table, a chair, a candlestick, a bed, or
rather a bench--padded, if in a good house, but of bare boards in the
humbler ones--an _ikon_ or sacred picture, a looking-glass, and sundry
framed notices. One of these notices is a tariff of meat and drink--not
that you are to suppose for a moment that any amount of money would
purchase the luxuries named thereon, but the Government makes every
post-master take out a victualler’s licence, and named thereupon are
the prices which he would charge for the delicacies IF HE HAD THEM!
No--bed and board are the rub of Siberian travel. You may safely rely
upon getting at any station a supply of boiling water, and probably
some black bread; but beyond this all is uncertainty. In Western
Siberia milk and eggs are plentiful and cheap--the latter a farthing
each; and everywhere, if you arrive at dinner-time, there is a chance
of getting some meat, which you may or may not be able to eat. The fact
is, you must take your own provisions, and for this winter is better
than summer, because then you have simply to freeze your meat and chop
off a piece with your hatchet when required. It is easy, moreover,
to start with a stock of frozen meat pies, one of which, thrown in
hot water, is eatable in a few minutes; and so with lumps of frozen
cream. Tea and sugar are carried, of course, by every traveller in
Russia; and to these were added a small quantity of tinned meat, fresh
butter, anchovy paste, and marmalade--the last two as qualifiers in
case we were reduced to black bread. These things, with a stock of
white bread taken from the larger towns, formed a base, for which we
were thankful. If anything better fell in the way, it was so much to
the good; if white bread and butter failed, then we hoped for improved
circumstances. These remarks apply, of course, to the hundreds of miles
of country between the towns. In the towns we fared comparatively well.
Such are some of the features of tarantass travel for which we prepared
ourselves at Tomsk. What occurred will be related in its proper place.

CHAPTER XIII.

_FROM TOMSK SOUTHWARDS._

Application for horses.--Effect of Petersburg letter.--A false
start.--A horse killed.--Attempted cooking.--Siberian
weather.--Meteorology.--Scenery.--Trees, plants, and flowers.--An
elementary school.--Education in Western Siberia.

Though our journey to Barnaul took place quite early in our posting
career, it was by no means devoid of incident. On Thursday, June 12th,
we sent for a “troika” of horses at noon, and were coolly told by the
postal authorities that we could have them towards midnight. Now the
chief of their department at Petersburg had favoured me with a special
letter, addressed to the post-masters on our route, enjoining them to
help me, and requesting that I might be delayed as little as possible.
We had been favoured likewise with a crown podorojna. This latter had
been presented, but to no purpose; and it seemed a clear case for
bringing our heavy artillery into action. We presented, therefore, the
postal letter, and the effect was magical. Before the official had half
read it, he sprang to his feet, eyed me respectfully, bustled off to
his chief, and, speedily returning, promised the horses in an hour.
They appeared punctually, and we started “troika” fashion--that is,
three horses driven abreast. Unfortunately, however, the _starosta_,
or man in charge of the postal yard, could not read our podorojna,
and he took it for granted that we wished to go towards Krasnoiarsk,
and told the yemstchik to drive us thither. Nor was it till we had run
some dozen miles or more that it was discovered we were not on the road
to Barnaul. We had, of course, to retrace our steps to Tomsk, and then
we heard that it was not the first time this starosta had sent off
travellers in the wrong direction. The mistake in our case had caused
the extra expenditure of eighteen pennyworth of horse-flesh, and I
thought it right to visit the loss of this sum on the starosta for the
benefit of future travellers as well as our own. I therefore declined
to pay for the privilege of having been taken out of our way, and left
the starosta to settle with the post-master.

Making a fresh start, we found ourselves by nightfall near the river
Tom. The ordinary road was under water, and the banks of the stream
were so flooded that we were obliged to take a cross-country road
leading some 25 miles out of the way; and as it went over hill and
dale, and almost “hedges and ditches,” we were advised to stay till
morning. But we pushed on, crossed the river at daybreak, and at the
third station, in the direction of the Barabinsky steppe, turned
southwards, and travelled well till Saturday evening, when, on stopping
awhile to rest the horses, one of them dropped and died upon the
spot. We were pulling the creature off the road--one having hold of a
leg, another of her tail, and so on--when the remaining horses, as if
indignant at such conduct, rushed over the bank, and tore away with the
tarantass into the forest. Some of us pursued, and fortunately caught
and brought them back without further harm. The loss of a horse is
more serious in Eastern than in Western Siberia, where people have
herds of horses worthy of patriarchs. One lady told me that her husband
possessed from 4,000 to 5,000 horses, and about as many cows. Pasturage
is abundant, and horse-flesh is cheap. Our horse was reckoned a good
one, and valued at £4 10_s._ The post-master could claim nothing from
us for its loss, and thanked us warmly for 10_s._ towards repairing his
damage. As we went along we saw large herds of mares with their foals,
turned loose for the summer in company with a single horse to guard
them. Should danger approach, in the form of a wild beast for instance,
the stallion drives all the mares within a circle with their heels
outwards, and the foals in the centre, whilst he stamps the ground with
rage and dares the wolf to come within reach of their hoofs.

When we reached the last river we had to cross, which at ordinary
times was probably not half a mile wide, we found it so flooded that
the ferry-boat had a journey of more than five miles. This took a long
while, and, when returning, we thought to save time by eating a meal on
the water. In my luncheon-basket is a “Rob Roy” cuisine, with a view
to the using of which, before leaving England, I took an evening’s
cooking lesson. I was now anxious to demonstrate to the Russians that
it was possible to make a cup of tea without the aid of a _samovar_.
We therefore commenced operations, there being on board not only our
own three horses, but half-a-dozen others with their drivers and
tarantasses. The great advantage of this cuisine is that, whereas a
puff of wind may extinguish an ordinary spirit-lamp, the “Rob Roy,” by
setting fire to the steam of the spirit, burns so furiously that a
hurricane will not blow it out. It makes, however, a considerable roar;
and when matters reached this stage, not only were all the natives
surprised, but the horses began so to kick and to plunge that we feared
an upset. One of the drivers said his horse was 30 years old, and had
never heard such a noise in his life! So, for the general safety of all
on board, I packed up my kitchen and had to forego the tea.

Hitherto our Siberian tour had been highly enjoyable. South of Tomsk
the weather was charming, and the new spring vegetation lovely. A
question that has been repeatedly put to me since my return to England
is, “Did you not find it very cold in Siberia?” It may be well,
therefore, that this question should here be answered. Snow fell on
the night we entered the country, and the ground next morning, May
29th, was white; but the snow disappeared after an hour or two, and
we saw no more for some days. By the 5th of June we reached on the
Obi a latitude 100 miles north of Petersburg, where the buds had not
yet opened, nor had the winter floods subsided. I heard subsequently
that the opening of spring had come that year unusually early in
Petersburg, and exceptionally late in Siberia, where the ice usually
breaks up at Tobolsk at the end of April. On the 6th of June we had
snow, and the trees on the banks had little verdure till we reached
Tomsk on the 9th, after which fine weather set in, and was followed by
almost uninterrupted sunshine till the beginning of autumn. The summer
climate, therefore, of those parts of Siberia through which I passed
I consider simply delightful--neither oppressively hot by day nor
unpleasantly cold by night.

Before leaving England, my neighbour, Mr. Glaisher the meteorologist,
had urged me to take a few instruments for the purpose of making
observations, and had kindly lent me for the journey a valuable
unmounted thermometer. I took, besides, an aneroid barometer, a
compass, an anemometer, maximum and minimum thermometers, and two
others. With these instruments I felt very much like a boy leaving
home on a summer morning with excellent fishing tackle, and bent on
taking nothing less than trout. When returning, I felt that I had
brought back minnows. On my first night out, at Cologne, my apparatus
was duly exposed from the hotel window, and on reaching Petersburg I
climbed daily to the top of the hotel to measure the velocity of the
wind. At the copper-mine at Nijni Tagilsk I was resolved on being very
learned, and took my instruments to test the temperature of springs and
the velocity of air currents. But, alas! I broke my thermometer, and,
having reached the bottom of the mine, had forgotten, when undressing,
to take my watch. On the Obi I was able to take a few observations, but
it was impossible to continue this during posting journeys; and further
on I broke my minimum thermometer, after which I abandoned hope of
attaining meteorological distinction.[1]

The journey to Barnaul revealed to us beauties of scenery and
vegetation for which we were hardly prepared after the flat and
leafless districts through which we had been passing. The landscape
now became undulating, and the traveller who passes further south to
Biisk, and beyond, approaches the regions of the Altai chain, which are
spoken of as well worth seeing.[2] The grass between Tomsk and Barnaul
was remarkable, and the further south we went the more luxuriant it
became. Much of the flora was familiar, but we were now introduced to
a good many trees, shrubs, plants, and flowers, found more or less in
the country west of Irkutsk, that were new to us. The most prominent of
the trees was the white-barked birch, justly called the “lady of the
forest.” We saw also the cedar-nut tree, the pitch pine, the larch,
the flowering acacia, spruce fir, and alder, the white-pine, willow,
lime, Siberian poplar, laburnum, and white-flowering cheriomkha--the
last a beautiful object when in blossom, and yielding for fruit a small
bird cherry. Among the shrubs appeared the white hawthorn, and an
abundance of wild red currants, which, like bird cherries, are eaten
by the people--the latter being made into bread and cakes, and, in
common with other fruits, put into brandy to make _naliphka_. These
fruits are very sour as compared with the English kinds. Strawberry
and raspberry plants abounded, though we did not get our first plate
of wild strawberries till 11th July. In autumn, numerous berries
are plentiful, such as cranberries (called _klukva_), bilberries,
cowberries, bearberries, stoneberries, the mountain ash berry, and
the Arctic bramble. All these are found, too, in European Russia,
north of Petersburg, the last having a blossom like a single rose, a
strawberry leaf, and a fruit resembling the English blackberry. In
summer, strawberries and raspberries are the best fruits within reach
of the Siberian traveller until he reaches the southern region of the
Amur. Among the spring flowers we missed (or perhaps overlooked) the
pale primrose; but violets are found, also sweet-williams, daisies,
foxgloves, rich camomile flowers, the wild rose, crocus, lily of
the valley, and many others. The fields were actually blue with
forget-me-nots. We noticed also on this journey what was to me a new
plant, bearing an orange flower something like a buttercup, but very
much larger, and of which there were many. Also east of Tomsk we saw
a large red lily, made much of in English gardens, but which here was
growing wild; also, in great abundance, a red flower very much like the
peony.

On the road to Barnaul, at a place called Medvedsky, is an elementary
school, to which, in returning, we paid a visit, and so were brought
into contact with village education.[3] There were in attendance 32
boys and girls, of ages varying from 6 to 16, most of whom came from
distant places (some 30 miles off), and lodged in the village. Only
8 were from the immediate neighbourhood. Adults sometimes attend the
school, in which the education is free, the school being supported by
the commune or _mir_. The scholars attend daily from 8 o’clock till 2,
after which hour some of them learn bookbinding. Sundays and saints’
days are holidays, but the children are required to be every Sunday
at church. There was a priest in the room giving instruction. I asked
the children some Scripture questions, but was poorly answered. Many
of the children, however, jumped at the opportunity of purchasing a
New Testament for 1¼_d._, and we left a supply for them. The master
wished the boys to be examined in arithmetic, whereupon, among other
questions, I asked them, “What two numbers multiplied together make
7?” They knitted their brows as if making a great effort--and even the
master’s countenance seemed to betray that he thought the question too
difficult. All laughed heartily, however, when, on giving it up, I told
them that the factors were 7 and 1. The master lived in an adjoining
part of the house; and in this far-off place I observed on the wall of
the schoolmaster’s room, as I had seen on that of one of the prison
officials at Tiumen, an English engraving of the portrait of Professor
Darwin. The schoolmaster said I was the first Englishman he had seen,
gladly purchased some of our books, and thanked us for our visit.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] My scientific attempts brought me in contact with some pleasant
people; notably Captain Rykatcheff, of the Observatory in Petersburg,
and with others at Moscow, Ekaterineburg, Tomsk, etc.; at all of which
places they have observatories, that near Petersburg being, I was told,
in some respects better than ours at Greenwich. The Russians take
considerable pains in collecting data from 103 stations throughout
the Empire, of which 14 are in Siberia, namely: at Omsk, Akmolinsk,
Semipolatinsk, Tomsk, Barnaul, Kuznetsk, Yeneseisk, Turukhansk,
Irkutsk, Kiakhta, Nertchinsk mines, Blagovestchensk, Nikolaefsk, and
Vladivostock. The Russians have an observatory also in China, at
Peking; and I think I heard of some new ones established on the Obi.
They register thrice daily--at seven, one, and nine--the readings of
the barometer, the dry and wet bulb thermometers giving the temperature
and humidity of the atmosphere, the direction of the wind, and the
amount of clouds, rain, snow, etc.; and these statistics are collected
and published at Petersburg with a fulness which exceeds, I am told,
anything that we do in poor England. I was presented with the Report
for 1877 (the last then published)--a great volume of 600 pages. It
will be from this source that I shall from time to time air before the
reader my meteorological learning. Tomsk was the first of the Siberian
stations at which we arrived, where the maximum temperature of the year
rose, at one o’clock on the 6th August, to 106°.9, and the minimum
temperature, 83°.2 below zero, occurred on Christmas Day. At Barnaul,
some 200 miles south, it was a little hotter and a little colder, the
maximum being 107°.8, and the minimum 84°.8 below zero. On the Sunday
we spent there, June 15th, the temperature was the hottest we had
experienced up to that time in Siberia; and we heard it is so cold in
winter that small birds sometimes drop dead in the streets.

[2] The entire Altai system extends in a serpentine line, and under
various names, from the Irtish to Behring Strait. The breadth of the
chain varies from 400 to 1,000 miles. Its entire length is about 4,500
miles, but it is only to the portion west of Lake Baikal that the term
Altai is applied. This part consists of a succession of terraces with
swelling outline, descending in steps from the high tableland, and
terminating in promontories on the Siberian plains. On these terraces
(some of them at great height) are numerous lakes. The ordinary
tablelands are given as not more than 6,000 feet high, and as seldom
covered with perpetual snow, though it is otherwise with the Korgan
tableland, which reaches 9,900 feet; and the two pillars of Katunya,
which are said to attain to nearly 13,000 feet above the sea level. At
the western extremity of the chain are metalliferous veins, in which
several important workings have been established since 1872.

[3] In the uyezd or district of Tiumen, which is one out of 9 in the
province of Tobolsk, there are 24 schools; at Tobolsk we heard of 12
schools more. In the villages about Barnaul there are few schools, but
there are some in the district of the mines and the works. In Tomsk
are a few upper-class schools, as also at Tobolsk; and we met at Tomsk
a school inspector. Further, from the _Golos_ of 25th June, 1879 (old
style), it appeared that the Russian Government had lately opened
a classical school, or _gymnase_, at Omsk; a _real_, or commercial
school, at Tomsk; and _pro-gymnases_, or preparatory classical
schools for girls, at Tomsk and Barnaul. It was further stated that
in 1878 there were in Western Siberia 22 upper-class schools, with an
attendance of 3,200 scholars; and that other such schools were asked
for at Semipolatinsk, Petropavlovsk, Kainsk, and Barnaul. In Western
Siberia, in 1878, 546 schools of a lower class existed, numbering
15,000 scholars, of whom, however, the remarkable preponderance of
13,000 boys over 2,000 girls is startling. The Russians have had
schools for some time for Kirghese boys, and they have two also for
Kirghese girls; whilst, as observed before, they opened in 1879 a
school at Obdorsk for the Ostjaks and Samoyedes.

CHAPTER XIV.

_BARNAUL._

Situation of town.--Cemetery.--Burial of the dead.--The Emperor’s
usine.--Visit to Mr. Clark.--Visits to hospital and prison.--A
recently-enacted tragedy.--Crime of the district.--Smelting of
silver and gold.--Price of land and provisions.--Return to Tomsk.

We reached Barnaul very early on Sunday morning, having traversed,
after leaving the flooded river Obi, a miniature _Sahara_, or desert
of sand. Barnaul, like Tobolsk and Tomsk, lies at the foot of a hill.
It has 13,000 inhabitants. On the top of the hill is a cemetery, which
was the first we had met with; but it did not convey a favourable
impression of Siberian burying-places. Indeed, I have not been greatly
struck by Russian cemeteries, whether in Europe or in Asia, though
on the graves of their emperors the Russians place monuments of
considerable taste, which deserve to be placed in the same category
with memorials of the departed such as those of Frederick William
III. and his Queen at Charlottenburg, or the tomb of Napoleon in the
Hotel des Invalides. But it is otherwise, as I have said, with average
Russian tombs.[1]

From the cemetery at Barnaul are seen its half-dozen churches and a
large building known as the Emperor’s _usine_, or gold and silver
smelting works. Most of the business of the town is connected with
mining; and many surveyors and engineers live in the adjacent mountains
in summer, and in Barnaul in winter. The discovery of the precious
metals in the Altai regions was made by one of the Demidoffs, who is
said to have been sent there by Peter the Great. His monument in brass
stands in the public square at Barnaul. We had an introduction to the
manager of the usine, Mr. Clark, who is the son of an Englishman, and
who reads but does not speak his father’s language. We found in his
spacious house a good collection of English books, together with copies
of the _Nineteenth Century_, the _Graphic_, _All the Year Round_, and
the weekly edition of the _Times_. On the Sunday afternoon our host
took us to visit the poor-house and the hospital. In this latter were
14 rooms, which had the advantage of being very lofty and airy, though
they struck me as not particularly tidy.

In the 9 rooms of the prison were 120 criminals, one of whom, a day
or two previously, had within the prison walls enacted a tragedy,
the circumstances of which would furnish material for a sensational
novel. The rooms of the prison are ranged on either side of a wide
corridor, and in one of them was a number of women, one of whom had
murdered her husband and was condemned to Eastern Siberia, to which
she was on her way, though for some reason detained at Barnaul. In one
of the male wards was a young man, formerly under-manager of a shop in
the town, who had been suspected of stealing, and was imprisoned for
three months. He had served out this time within a week; but during
his stay in the prison he made the acquaintance of, and became more
or less attached to, the murderess, holding conversation with her
from the corridor during the time allowed for exercise. Another male
prisoner was by these two taken into council, and the three determined
to attempt an escape, by means of wooden keys which the men were to
make. The plot, however, was discovered, and the woman, finding that
she must proceed to her destination and leave her lover, tried to kill
herself. But she was prevented. She therefore adopted another plan of
ridding herself of life. In the door of the women’s chamber was an
inspection-hole, unusually large. This she cut a little larger, thrust
her head through into the corridor where the man was walking, and
begged him, if he loved her, to take her life; upon which he took a
knife, cut her throat, and so effectually killed her. We saw the stains
of the blood still on the door, for the deed had been done only a day
or two before our visit. Close at hand was the prisoner, placed in a
separate and rather dark cell, and chained hand and foot--the only man
I saw so chained in Siberia. As he walked out of his cell, I walked in,
and found on the floor a quantity of cigarettes and a book of songs.
Upon my pointing to the cigarettes, the officer said that the prisoners
managed to smuggle them in; and then came out the old story, that this
prisoner had managed also to smuggle in drink, under the influence of
which he had committed this horrid murder. On asking what punishment
he would be likely to receive, we were told that he would probably
be condemned to hard labour for about 16 years; and we were further
informed that in the small district of Barnaul, consisting of less than
half the population of Liverpool, there are usually about 10 murders
a year. As we went from room to room, the police-master introduced me
to the prisoners as an Englishman travelling through Siberia who had
brought them books, which usually elicited an expression of thanks. We
left them a New Testament and papers for each room, doing the like also
for the hospital and poor-house, and sending a supply for the prison at
Biisk.

[Illustration: CONVICT SUMMER CLOTHING AND CHAINS.]

On Monday we went with Mr. Clark to see the Emperor’s usine, to which
is brought mineral from Smirnagorsk, 200 miles distant, as well as from
other parts of the Altai mountains, where are mines, the ore from which
contains for the more part copper and silver. They find there but very
little lead. Nor is the quantity of iron worked at all large--chiefly,
I believe, for lack of capital and energy. In 1879 only 507 tons of
iron were cast, and 238 tons wrought in the government of Tomsk. Many
thousand _poods_ of copper are obtained annually in the district, but
not smelted at Barnaul. These mines are called the private mines of the
Emperor, and the revenues belong to the Crown. In them are employed
from 1,500 to 2,000 men (not, in this case, convicts), and the ore from
the Altai regions is brought to be smelted to four different works for
silver, and one for copper.

The smelting of silver is carried on at Barnaul all the year round.
They burn charcoal, which costs 10_s._ a ton. The ore as brought from
the mine is called _mineral_, and 4,000 tons of mineral yield 2 tons of
silver--that is, 2,000 parts of ore yield one part of pure metal.[2]

We went from the usine to the museum, which could not fail to be
interesting to a mining engineer or a geologist. There was a large and
well-assorted collection of minerals; models of the principal Altai
silver-mines, showing the shafts, adits, and galleries, with their
machinery; models of gold-washing machines, of quartz mills, and of
furnaces and works in various parts of Siberia. Among the natural
curiosities of the museum were the stock of a tree, with branches that
represented pretty accurately a man in a sitting posture; and a piece
of wood, which, when split, had been found to contain a cross inside.
In the ethnological department were some good costumes of the Kirghese
and of a Tunguse _shaman_, or priest and priestess. They had also in
another room an eagle’s nest, and several specimens of the Altai eagle;
but in the zoological department the most remarkable specimen was the
stuffed skin of a tiger killed in the southern part of the district,
where this animal is usually unknown.

The price of land and provisions at Barnaul was such as might make many
a man sigh to live there. The price for the hire of cleared black soil
was 3½_d._ an English acre. We saw them scratching the surface of it
(for their instrument was so shallow that it was a mockery to call it
ploughing), and yet such farming yields there an abundant crop. They
take just a little of their stable manure for cucumber beds, but burn
the rest to get rid of it, never thinking of putting it on the land;
but when they have used a field for a few years, and it is becoming
exhausted, they take fresh ground. The cost of provisions in this
fertile district is on a level with the prices quoted on the Obi. Black
rye flour costs half-a-farthing per English pound; undressed wheat
flour, such as we use for brown bread, costs 2_s._ per cwt.; whilst
white wheaten flour costs up to 16_s._ for a sack of 180 pounds. The
price of meat is similar. In the summer, when it will not keep and is
dear, beef costs 1¼_d._ per lb.; but in winter, when it can be kept in
a frozen condition, it sells for less than ½_d._ per English pound.
Veal is more expensive, and costs 1½_d._; whilst aristocratic persons,
who live on grouse, have to pay as much as from 2_d._ to 2½_d._ per
brace. In this part of Siberia it is rare to find a peasant without
a stock of horses and cows, and a man with a family to help him can
make an excellent living. When I wrote, in April 1880, some letters to
the _Times_ on Siberian prisons, one gentleman said he thought there
would be a _rush_ thither, because I made things look so comfortable.
In case, therefore, the quotation of these prices should tempt any of
my readers to emigrate, I think it right to point out that in this
district carriage is dear and labour is scarce, a workman earning 1_s._
3_d._ a day, or, if provided with food, 6_s._ a month.

We should have liked well to have stayed longer in this part of the
country, and to have made our way among the hordes south and west,
in the provinces of Akmolinsk and Semipolatinsk, which contain a
population of 10,000 and 9,000 respectively.[3] Our time, however,
did not permit of our so doing; and therefore, after a very pleasant
stay at Barnaul, and a final lunch with Mr. Clark, we bade our host
adieu, and on Wednesday, June 18th, we re-entered Tomsk, where we found
our luggage arrived, and for the carriage of which, by steamer, Mr.
Ignatoff--to his liberality be it said--would make no charge. When I
added this concession to the reduced rate we had paid on the Obi for
our tarantass, our berths, and excess luggage--to say nothing of the
personal attention shown on board to “Mr. Missionary,”--and all this
without my having breathed a word as to charges, I thought it very
handsome, and I gladly record this good deed spontaneously emanating
from beneath the double-breasted coat of a Russian merchant.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] In the Russian Church there are five offices for the burial of the
dead, namely, two for the laity, and one each for monks, priests, and
children. The priest is sent for immediately after death, and performs
a service. The rich usually have relays of priests to continue praying
so long as the corpse remains in the house. Burials always take place
in the morning. The corpse is taken into the church with the face
uncovered, looking eastward, and before removal is kissed by the priest
and relatives. At the grave the priest casts earth upon it. Further
(though this is not ecclesiastically prescribed), the Russians have
services for the dead at the grave, or at the church, on the third, the
ninth, and the fortieth day, also on the anniversaries of the departed
one’s death and birthday, the last two being continued for some persons
for many years. They do not, however, believe in purgatory.

[2] The processes of smelting are three. The mineral is first powdered,
and a handful taken to the assaying house. Here we saw a man making
small crucibles of clay, at the rate of 1,000 a day. In two cups, one
having bone in its composition, is put an ascertained quantity of the
mineral: both are placed in the furnace, and the result shows what
proportion of pure metal the mineral will yield. The powdered mineral
is then taken to furnace No. 1, which is like an iron furnace, and from
20 to 30 feet high. Into this the mineral is put with charcoal, and,
after remaining there about 12 hours, there comes out of the furnace
a black compound of lead and silver called _ruststein_. The ruststein
is then placed in furnace No. 2 with lead, and, after remaining there
for a short time (three tons, for instance, for an hour), the silver
is extracted by the lead, and the compound which comes out is called
_werchblei_. This is put into furnace No. 3, where 16 tons would remain
three days, with the result that the lead oxydizes into _glot_, and
is run off, whilst the silver remains and sinks to the bottom of the
furnace. It is then taken out in round cakes from 12 to 15 inches in
diameter, and sent to Petersburg. The cakes we saw had a dull hue, very
much resembling lumps of newly molten lead, and were valued at £3 6_s._
8_d._ per pound.

A simpler process is the smelting of gold, carried on in a room about
20 feet square, having a tall furnace in the centre, in which are fires
not much larger than those in a laundry copper. The gold is brought
to the usine in dust and small nuggets, tied up in leather bags, and
begins to arrive from the mines at the end of June. The smelting goes
on to the end of October. Some of the leathern bags were shown to us,
duly sealed, and with particulars written thereon. One, about the size
of a hen’s egg, was worth £36; and another, the size of a blackbird’s
egg, was marked £5. When opened, the gold, just as it comes from the
washings, with borax as a flux, is put into an earthenware pot, and
then placed in the fire, after which it fuses, and is poured out into
an iron mould in the shape of a flat bar. A bar we saw weighed 15
pounds.

In the season they sometimes have in the strong-room 250 poods--say
from four to five tons--of gold, which the previous summer had been
worth £2,000 a pood, making a total value of £500,000 for gold alone.
At the end of the season the silver and gold are sent to the capital,
under charge of a military escort.

[3] Dr. Finsch, who travelled with an exploring party up the Irtish
in 1876, has put on record much information of a scientific character
about this part of Siberia. Mr. Atkinson, an English artist, with his
wife, also spent seven years in Central Asia and the Kirghese steppes.
He gives fuller information than I have met elsewhere of the Kirghese,
who number nearly 1,500,000 souls. They live either in tents or in
caverns resembling rabbit burrows, both of which are filthy beyond
measure. The appearance of the Kirghese, judging by those I saw in the
prisons, is anything but prepossessing--the nose sinks into the face,
and the cheeks are large and bloated. They eat chiefly mutton and
horse-flesh, and drink tea and mare’s milk. The last, when fermented,
is called _koumis_, and is kept in the tent in a large leathern sack,
said to be never washed out. The Kirghese are splendid horsemen; and
their usual occupation is tending sheep, goats, horses, and camels,
of which they possess immense herds. Indeed, I was told that, in the
_aoul_ or encampment of a rich Kirghese chief, one can see in the
present day the principal objects that were witnessed 4,000 years ago,
when the patriarch Abraham was a dweller in tents, and pastured cattle.

CHAPTER XV.

_THE SIBERIAN CHURCH._

The Russian Church.--Geographical area.--History, doctrines,
schisms.--Ecclesiastical divisions of Siberia.--Church
committees.--Russian Church services.--Picture-worship.--
Vestments.--Liturgy.--Ordination.--Baptism.--Marriage.--Minor
services.

It will be expected, of course, in a journey from the Urals to the
Pacific, that something should be said of the Siberian Church, to treat
of which is to treat of the Russian Church in Siberia. Wherever the
Russians carry their arms, there, like the Romans, they carry their
creed; and consequently all along the great Siberian highways, where
the Russians dwell, they have their ecclesiastical system as in Europe.
I shall therefore speak generally of things concerning the Greek
Church, whether in Russia or Siberia, and illustrate them by what I
have seen.

Our knowledge of the Russian Church comes to us chiefly from two
sources: from the pens of ecclesiastical authors, and from the writings
of modern travellers. From the latter, it is not too much to say that
the Russians and their religion often receive a scant measure of
justice, not to add misrepresentation; for when the British tourist
looks upon the gorgeous and elaborate ritual of an Eastern Church,
sees the picture-worship of the people, their kissing of relics, and
invocation of saints, he is reminded of like things in the Churches of
Italy and Spain, and he not unfrequently condemns both East and West
as superstitious and corrupt alike. Such a charge, however, is far too
sweeping, and betrays a lack of knowledge of many points which, if
more generally known, would certainly bring English Churchmen nearer,
at least in sympathy, with members of the Church in Russia. On the
other hand, the writings of ecclesiastical authors are usually so
technical as to fail in bringing before us what the traveller sees as
the everyday religious life of a people. It is desirable to avoid these
two extremes, and to distinguish between the recognized standards of a
Church’s teaching, and the correspondence therewith, or otherwise, of
the daily lives of its members.[1]

I do not propose to enter here upon the history,[2] doctrines,[3] or
schisms[4] of the Russian Church, but proceed to observe that, for
ecclesiastical purposes, Siberia is divided into six dioceses, presided
over by 7 bishops. It contains 1,515 churches and 1,509 clergy; 14
monasteries containing 147 monks, and 4 nunneries containing 62 nuns.
Russian dioceses are subdivided into rural deaneries, each consisting
of a circle of from ten to thirty parishes, some of which, in Siberia,
must be very extensive, though not necessarily populous. A priest near
Tobolsk, however, told me that he had 5,000 parishioners; another
at Kansk, near Irkutsk, had 2,000, widely scattered; whilst on the
Siberian coast of the Pacific, Nikolaefsk and Vladivostock, towns of
3,000 and 5,000 inhabitants respectively, form only one parish each.
Every _selo_ or town of a certain grade has a church; and in some of
the _derevni_, or villages, churches and small chapels, or oratories,
are built, in which latter, services, other than the liturgy or holy
communion, may be performed. The churches and vestments are furnished
and kept in repair by parochial committees, of not less than five
persons, elected annually, who, on retiring from office, are called
“church elders.” They visit every house in the parish, and determine
what proportion of the expenses should be paid by each householder.
There would seem to be no difficulty in raising the necessary funds;
and I must add that I was agreeably surprised in Siberia to see how
well and how clean the churches were kept, even in the remotest and
most out-of-the-way places.[5]

We had several opportunities, in passing through Siberia, of attending
the Church services. Picture-worship is an almost universal attendant
of Russian devotion--more so, if possible, than in Roman countries;
and the Russian Church has found it necessary to issue many warnings
against the perils of idolatry.[6]

Another prominent feature of “orthodox” worship is the plentiful use
of lighted candles bought at the church entrance. In one church in
Petersburg, and that not the largest, I was told that money is taken
yearly for candles up to 10,000 roubles--say £1,000.

The vestments of the priests and bishops are gorgeous in the extreme. A
metropolitan’s “_sakkos_” is shown at Moscow, which is said to weigh 50
pounds, by reason of the pearls and gems with which it is embellished.
At the Troitza monastery are fifteen dresses for the Archimandrite, one
of which, for the mere making, cost the Empress Elizabeth £600, the
robe itself being valued at £11,000. This monastery is said to possess
amongst its treasures two bushels of pearls, and, from what I have
twice seen there, I am inclined to add an estimated _pint_ of diamonds,
to say nothing of emeralds, rubies, and sapphires innumerable!

The Church services are of a monastic character, long and tedious, read
in Sclavonic, “which is to the modern Russian,” it is said, “about what
the language of Chaucer is to us”; so that, what with its ancient form
and the rapidity with which the ecclesiastical language is read, it is
practically unintelligible to many of the people. From time to time
in the services commemorations are made of the Virgin and saints; and
prayers are offered to them, blessings are asked of God through their
intercessions, and the response, _Gospodi Pomilui_, “Lord, have mercy!”
is uttered thirty, forty, fifty times or more, almost at a breath.

No instrumental music is allowed in the Russian Church; but the singing
in large cathedrals, such as St. Isaac’s at Petersburg (where they have
30 choristers dressed in blue and gold tunics), is exceedingly grand.
I do not remember to have heard elsewhere such extraordinary harmony.
The basses descended to depths almost abyssmal, and the trebles soared
to and were sustained at a height perfectly marvellous, whilst other
voices were so profusely blended that I can compare the effect of
the whole to nothing better than to an exquisite colored window. The
hymn called “The Cherubim,” with music by Bortnyanski, I heard sung
at Petersburg and Kasan; and at the latter place was not surprised to
see tears falling from the eyes of a peasant woman near me, for my own
were uncommonly moist. I made bold to approach and look over the music
of one of the choristers, thereby alarming the Monk director, who,
mistaking my interest, said afterwards he thought I had perchance come
from the Imperial choir to take away some of his best voices.

The ritual and services of the Russian Church are contained in twenty
volumes folio. The greatest part of the service varies every day in the
year except in the Liturgy, where the greater part is fixed.[7]

As we passed through Kasan we happened to see the ordination of a
priest and a deacon, which was interesting. Holy orders are regarded by
the Russian Church as a sacrament or mystery, but are not indelible.
If, for instance, a widower priest wishes to marry again, he can do
so by resigning his priest’s orders and taking some inferior place
among the minor orders, or by giving up his ecclesiastical profession
altogether. They have five orders, namely, bishop, priest, deacon,
sub-deacon, and reader; and the episcopal dignitaries consist of
metropolitans, archbishops, and bishops, some of which latter are
suffragans.[8]

The services connected with baptism in the Russian Church were formerly
very numerous, though now they are frequently more or less combined;[9]
one principal difference in _practice_ between the Greek and English
Churches being that the former _always_ baptizes by immersion. The
child is usually named after one of the saints in the Russian calendar,
the yearly recurrence of whose festival constitutes the person’s
“name’s-day.” This is observed in Russia more than the “birth-day,”
which practice has the advantage that if the Christian name of a
friend is familiar, one always knows when to congratulate him.

Marriage is counted one of the sacraments or mysteries of the Greek
Church, but virginity is taught to be better than wedlock. Priests are
commanded, under pain of degradation, not to join in wedlock persons
of unsuitable ages, nor those ignorant of the essential articles of
the faith, and in no case without due notice given. The Russian Church
fixes the age of majority for the bridegroom at twenty-one, or, by
permission of parents, as early as eighteen, and sixteen for the bride;
it frowns on second and third marriages, and forbids fourth marriages
altogether.[10]

There are yet other services, such as the so-called sacrament of
penance, which closely resembles, but differs in two important respects
from, that of the Church of Rome.[11]

And, again, the Russian sacrament of unction differs in more than one
respect from the Roman.[12]

For the benediction of water there are two offices: the lesser, which
is used whenever consecrated water is required, and the greater, which
is performed at the Epiphany, in memory of the baptism of Christ, and
is carried out with great ceremony. Another office in the Russian
Church is that of “Orthodox Sunday,” which is in form somewhat similar
to the English “Commination Service,” and in which anathemas are
pronounced against those who impugn various articles of the Russian
faith. Yet another service is “the Office of the Holy Unction,” that
is, for preparing the chrism,[13] and there are other occasional and
curious services, such as for the consecration of a church; for an
icon or picture; washing the feet on Thursday in Holy Week; prayers on
laying the first stone of a house; for seed time; longer offices to
be used in drought, earthquake, plague, incursion of barbarians, for
children when they commence their education, and many more; but I think
that on this head I have said enough.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] In connection with this subject, we constantly meet with the
terms “Eastern Church,” “Greek Church,” and “Russian Church.” Let
us distinguish between them. If on a map of Europe a line be drawn
from the White Sea southwards to Petersburg, thence along the western
border of Russia to Cracow, then along the eastern and southern
frontier of Austria to the Adriatic, this line will roughly divide
Christendom between the Churches of the East and of the West. Eastern
Christendom is sometimes divided into three main groups of Churches,
the _first_ group being the Chaldean, the Armenian, the Syrian, the
Egyptian, and the Georgian Churches. The second is the _Greek_ Church,
whose members, speaking the Greek language, are found as far south
as the desert of Mount Sinai, through all the coasts and islands in
the Levant and the Archipelago, and whose centre is Constantinople.
This is the only living representative of the once powerful Church of
Constantine, called the “Orthodox Imperial Church.” The _third_ group
of Eastern Churches consists partly of the Sclavonic peoples, found in
the provinces of the Lower Danube, Bulgaria, Servia, Wallachia, and
Moldavia; and partly, and much more largely, of the Sclavonic people
of Russia. The Russian Church, therefore, is an offshoot of the Greek
Church of Constantinople, once the centre of Eastern Christianity,
which Greek Church, by reason of its former Imperial grandeur,
sometimes gives its name to the other Oriental communions.

[2] _See_ Appendix A.

[3] _See_ Appendix B.

[4] _See_ Appendix C.

[5] Besides this parish church committee, there was formerly, and may
be now in some instances, in large towns, a “directory,” consisting of
about four members. In each diocese there is a “consistory,” of from
five to seven members, presided over by the bishop, the whole being
under the synod. Appeals, therefore, lie from the directories (where
they exist) to the consistory, from the consistory to the bishop, and
from the bishop to the synod. The synod, which has equal civil rank
with the senate, and the ecclesiastical rank of a patriarch, consists
of bishops and priests, whose nomination, appointment, and length of
membership depend on the will of the Sovereign. There sits also with
them a lay procurator, who is the crown representative, and who has a
_veto_ which can be reversed only by appeal to the Emperor.

[6] The “orthodox” Church draws a nice distinction between the
unlawfulness of using in church an image proper, and the lawfulness
of using the same image if carved on a flat surface; but the ordinary
observer, who beholds people in an Eastern Church bowing down before
graven images and likenesses of things that are in heaven and in earth,
must find it exceedingly difficult to determine where reverence ends
and idolatry begins.

[7] This Liturgy (which in the Greek Church always means the office for
the Holy Communion, and is the ordinary morning service) is divided
into three parts, namely, “the offering,” during which the bread and
wine are offered by the people, and prepared by the priest; “the
liturgy of the catechumens,” during which the Epistle and Gospel are
read; and “the liturgy of the faithful,” during which the elements
are administered. The priest and deacon receive the bread and wine
separately, as with us; the laity receive bread and wine mixed
together from a spoon, and standing; whilst to infants wine only is
administered, for fear of ejection. The priest receives daily, the
devout quarterly or oftener, and every one by _law_ yearly.

[8] Each of the five orders has a separate ordination. At the
ordination of a _reader_, he is clothed with a vestment called a
_sticharion_; and the bishop among other things says to him, “Son, ...
it is your duty daily to study the Holy Scriptures, and to endeavour
to make such proficiency therein that those who hear you may receive
edification.” A _sub-deacon_, on ordination, wears an _orarion_, like
an English stole, girded crosswise over his shoulders. The bishop
puts a towel also on the left shoulder of the newly ordained, and
delivers him a basin and ewer, in which the bishop washes his hands.
A _deacon_, when ordained, kisses the four corners of the holy table,
the bishop’s hands and shoulder, and the part of his garment called the
_epigonation_. He kneels on his right knee, lays his hands crosswise on
the holy table, and puts his forehead between his hands. The bishop’s
_omophorion_, or pall, is placed on his head, the stole on his left
shoulder, and he is presented with sleeves or cuffs, and a fan with
which to fan the sacramental elements. When ordained _priest_, the
stole is exchanged for a similar vestment, called an _epitrachelion_,
and there are also added a _phelonion_ and a girdle.

The consecration, however, of a _bishop_ is much more elaborate. He
is called upon to confess the Nicene Creed. He anathematizes sundry
heretics in particular, and all of them in general; confesses the
Virgin Mary to be properly and truly the mother of God; and prays
that she may be his helper, his preserver, and protectress all the
days of his life. He promises to preserve his flock from the errors
of the Latin Church; declares that he has not paid money for the
dignity about to be conferred upon him; promises not to go into other
dioceses without permission, nor to ordain more than one priest and one
deacon at the same service; further, that he will yearly, or at least
biennially, visit and inspect his flock; and among other things take
care that the homage due to God be not transferred to holy images. He
puts on his sakkos and other episcopal garments; and there is delivered
to him the _panagion_, or jewel, for the neck; _mantyas_, or ordinary
cloak; the cowl, mitre, rosary, and pastoral staff; after which he
walks to his house attended by two of the superior clergy.

[9] 1, On the day of delivery the priest goes to the house, and prays
for mother and child; 2, on the eighth day the child should be taken
to church to receive its name; and 3, on the fortieth day it should
be taken by the mother to be received into the Church, according to
the service for the reception of catechumens. In the course of this
service the priest breathes in the catechumen’s face, pronounces
three exorcisms, calls upon the catechumen or his sponsor to blow
and spit upon Satan, which he essays to do, not metaphorically, but
visibly; after which follows, 4, the administration of baptism, when
the candidate is first anointed with oil, then completely immersed
three times, then clothed by the priest with a white garment, and a
cross is suspended on the neck. Immediately after the baptism follows,
5, confirmation, or anointing of the baptized with chrism on the
forehead, eyes, nostrils, mouth, ears, breast, hands, and feet, with
the words repeated each time, “The seal of the gift of the Holy Ghost.”
Prayers are offered, an Epistle and Gospel read, and the benediction
pronounced. Eight days after, the candidate is brought again to the
church for, 6, the ablution of the chrism. The priest looses the
candidate’s clothes and girdle, and with a sponge washes the parts that
have been anointed; after which follows the last part of the service,
namely, 7, the tonsure, in which the priest cuts the hair of the newly
baptized in the form of a cross, in the name of the Father, and of the
Son, and of the Holy Ghost.

[10] The marriage service consists of two distinct offices, which are
performed at the same time. The first is called the “Betrothal,” when
rings are given and exchanged; the second is the “Coronation,” in which
the bride and bridegroom are crowned, and are thrice given wine to
drink from a common cup, and thrice led round a lectern on which lie
the Gospels. Weddings in Russia are usually celebrated in the evening,
and among the friends are persons corresponding to a godfather and
godmother, before whom, previous to coming to church, the happy pair
kneel in the house, and ask a blessing. The godfather holds in his
hand an ikon, usually of Christ, with which he makes the sign of the
cross over the head of the bridegroom, and then gives it him to be his
peculiar treasure. In old-fashioned places the godmother gives the
bride a loaf of bread, symbolical of worldly prosperity, making the
sign of the cross. The godmother also presents the bride with an ikon,
usually of the Virgin Mary; and these two ikons are carried to the
church, figure in the wedding ceremony, and are afterwards taken to the
new home, to be sacredly preserved for life, and afterwards bequeathed
to their children.

[11] Both Churches require contrition, and also confession. Confession
in both Churches begins at the age of seven years, and is a _secret_,
_periodical_, _compulsory_ acknowledgment of mortal sins to a _priest_;
but it is made less _complete_ in Russia than in Rome--has less of an
inquisitorial character; and hence Dean Stanley says, “The scandals,
the influence, the terrors of the confessional are alike unknown in
the East.” The other important difference between the two Churches is,
that subsequent exercises of piety, commonly called “penance,” when
enjoined upon the penitent in the Russian Church, are not performed as
_satisfaction_ offered to God. This, it will be seen, closes the gate
against a great deal of Roman teaching concerning the meritorious value
of good works.

[12] In the East the oil is not previously consecrated by the bishop,
but at the time, by seven priests; and, further, whereas extreme
unction is not administered by the Romans until the sick person is
beyond hope of recovery, the Russians call for the elders of the
Church, pray over him, even though the sickness be but slight, and
anoint him with oil, in the hope that he may be healed both spiritually
and bodily. The service is performed by seven priests (or at the least
three), who place a table in the church or house, on which is set a
dish with wheat, a vessel for the oil, and seven twigs with cotton tied
around, one for each of the priests, who first anoint the sick and
subsequently spread the Gospels, with their hands laid thereon, over
his head.

[13] This ointment, made of 23 ingredients, can be consecrated only
by a bishop, and in Passion Week. It boils three days, with a depth
of five fingers of wine below the oil, and priests and deacons by
turns read the Gospel day and night, without ceasing, from Monday till
Thursday.

CHAPTER XVI.

_THE SIBERIAN CHURCH (continued)._

The Russian clergy are of two orders--the parochial and the monastic;
or, as they are sometimes called, the white and the black--the
secular and the regular clergy. Such was the plethora of them in
the time of Peter the Great that they had to restrict the number of
ordinations and of those who should serve.[1] Now, however, there is no
superabundance.[2] Speaking generally, every parish church is under the
control of _prikhod_ or corporation, consisting of the priest, deacon,
and two _dïechoks_, or bell-ringer and reader, and also a widow-woman
to prepare the sacramental bread.

The parish priest may rise to be a protopope or head priest of an
Episcopal Church, or one who holds a position in which there are other
priests under him; but so long as his wife is living he can go no
higher. Should he become a widower, and take the monk’s habit, he is
then eligible to be made a bishop.[3]

The pay of the town clergy in Russia is better than of those in the
country, where it is very little. The salaries of the Siberian clergy,
to judge from the district of the Amur, vary from £125 to £180 a
year.[4] Hence those who have families are miserably poor. It is not
uncommon to hear them spoken of as exacting, avaricious, and grasping
(such charges are easily made, all the world over); but due allowance
is not always made for the dire needs of poverty; and they sometimes
are obliged almost, if not quite, to beg their bread.[5]

It must not be supposed, however, that, because the pay of the priests
is so small, their duties are light. Of their three daily services, the
first often begins between four and five in the morning (fancy that
with a thermometer below zero!), vespers at sunset, and the liturgy
before mid-day. To these must be added occasional services in district
churches or chapels, as well as in houses; at every birth, every death
in the parish; when a building is begun, after it has been repaired,
and when it is supposed to be haunted; together with the blessing of
school-houses and children before they begin work after the holidays;
to say nothing of processions through the streets with miraculous
pictures in times of harvest, pestilence, and danger. In Siberia we saw
one of these processions, with a picture, lanterns, and flags, leaving
a village church at four o’clock in the morning.

But this is not all. There are the church registers to be kept--all the
more important because in Russia no one can stir hand or foot without
a character paper, which sets forth, with the minutest details, the
particulars of his birth, baptism, marriage, etc. These papers have to
be signed and countersigned by the priest and deacon, and then to be
sent to the bishop’s registry, which, in Siberia, may be 1,000 miles
away--and all this with an expenditure of stamps, and red tape, and
filling up of blank forms that is simply appalling.[6] Again, every
priest has to keep a clerical journal of his official acts as to what
he and his fellows do daily. This is for the bishop’s assistant; and,
should the journal be suddenly found not written up to date, the
priest is liable to be punished. “How would you be punished?” said
I to a protopope. “With a good talking to, perhaps, for the first
offence, and for the second a fine, or, it may be, have the delinquency
inscribed on my character paper”; in other words, to carry a blot on
his escutcheon perhaps for life!

Verily, ecclesiastical discipline, whether in great things or small, is
not a dead letter in Russia. Perhaps it is not altogether uncalled for.
By it priests are forbidden to find their amusements at the theatre, or
in cards, buffoonery, or dancing; and mention is made of another evil
greater than these, in which we shall recognize an old foe, too well
known in England. It is drink![7]

It is not matter for surprise, then, that the status of the Russian
clergy is low, as it was in England when Christianity had existed
no longer here than it now has in Russia--say in the fourteenth
century, when Chaucer wrote his “Canterbury Tales.” We have no room
for boasting; nor are these remarks made with any idea of drawing
unfavourable comparisons, but only to give a true picture of a
large class of the Russian ecclesiastics. I called upon some few of
the priests in Siberia, who, like the peasants, seemed decidedly
superior to, and better off than, those in Russia. On arriving at a
post-station, I not unfrequently sent for or called upon the priest,
gave him tracts to circulate in his parish, and offered to sell him, at
a reduced rate, portions of Scripture for distribution, which offer was
almost always accepted.

Let me now pass to the monastic clergy, who alone fill all the higher
offices in the Russian Church. Among the monastic clergy are many
scholars. The present Metropolitan (Macarius) of Moscow, formerly a
professor at the Academy, may be selected as a bright example. He has
written extensively, and, from the very outset of his literary career,
is said to have resolved to devote all the money derived from his works
to the progress of knowledge. He has founded scholarships and-prizes
at Kieff, Petersburg, and Vilna, and as long ago as 1867 he possessed
a capital of £12,000, the interest of which is distributed yearly in
premiums for the best compositions in the Russian language. It was
this amiable dignitary, as related in my first chapter, whom I had the
honour of visiting when passing through Petersburg. Other things might
be said to the praise of many of the Russian clergy--notably their
simple manner of living. In none of their houses that I entered in
Siberia was there the least approach to luxury, and the library of one
of the best priests I met was all too scanty for the literary work he
had in hand. I remember, too, that I entered the sleeping-room of the
archimandrite (who is also the Metropolitan of Moscow) at the “Skit,”
near the Troitza monastery, and found a chamber that would be thought
not too well furnished for a guest in an average English rectory.
Further, in Russia, both orders of clergy fast at least 226 days in the
year; and the monastic clergy, which includes all the bishops, never
eat flesh at all. I met with a practical illustration of the strictness
with which the clergy abstain from forbidden food. At a post station
where we stopped, and where the priest had come to us, we invited him
to drink tea, and I cut for him a slice of white bread and buttered it.
This he declined, as it was a fast-day, and butter was forbidden. I
then offered him a slice of bread; but another difficulty arose, for,
having to lay in a large stock of white bread at the previous town, we
had requested the baker to put in a little butter to keep it moist. The
good man’s conscience therefore, he felt, would be denied even by this,
and so I was obliged to call for black bread wherewith to entertain our
fasting guest.[8]

Something must be said of the Russian monasteries for women and men.
They are of three sorts: Lavra, of which there are only three, namely,
at Kieff, Petersburg, and Troitza, near Moscow; next are those called
“Cœnobia”; and, lastly, others called “Stauropegia.” Their general
characteristics are Egyptian rather than Roman.[9]

[Illustration: A RUSSIAN NUN.]

One of the monks of the Yuryef Monastery, near Novgorod, gave me the
following outline of their daily life: They rise at half-past two (one
o’clock on festivals), go to church till six, and from six till nine
they sleep. Then they go to church again for an hour and a half, and
afterwards breakfast. This over, they are free to sleep or do as they
please till five in the afternoon, when evening service brings them
together for an hour and a half, after which they sup and go to bed.
They have but two meals a day, never eat flesh, and, when observing the
fasts, eat vegetables only.

To sum up, then, all that need here be said of the Russian Church--very
different thoughts arise according as one looks at the every-day
religion of the people, or their formularies and theology. The former
may cause pain and grief, the latter excite sympathy and hope; and it
will be my object in the remainder of this chapter to expand these
thoughts in a fair and honest way, without sparing blame or withholding
praise.

Most persons, who have had the opportunity of observing, allow that the
Russians are a religious people. One sees this not only in the large
numbers both of men and women who attend the churches, but also in the
tens of thousands who yearly go on pilgrimage to sacred places. The
monks of Troitza sometimes have in summer, on a feast day, a thousand
guests. Some, of course, are idle wanderers, going from place to place
to get food; but many walk hundreds--nay, thousands--of miles to
redeem a vow or offer a prayer for something specially desired. Much
of this, no doubt, is eminently unspiritual and superstitious. Much
of their worship is perilously like, if not altogether, idolatry; yet
it should be remembered that the average Russian knows no better; and
what can be expected of the peasant, if the highest authorities of the
land, on arriving at a city, make it their first object to pay their
devotions, if not, as at Ephesus, before “the image which fell down
from Jupiter,” yet before a picture to which is attributed miraculous
powers? We can at least admire, however, the intention in these things;
and if the Russian peasant can only be kept sober, he displays a number
of virtues, some of which are not found so abundantly in other and
more advanced countries. They are a kind, a generous, and a hospitable
people, by no means unmindful of philanthropic effort, and at least, we
may add, intensely ecclesiastical.

Again, there is much to admire in the formularies of their Church,
although Dean Stanley brings against it, and justly, three weighty
charges--extravagant ritual, excessive dogmatism, and a fatal
division between religion and morality. When, however, the Russian
Church is compared with the Roman, and spoken of as like it, certain
considerations should be borne in mind which make the comparison result
in favour of the former. Russia did not receive the religion of Jesus
Christ in its purity. The merest tyro in Church history knows that when
the stream of Christianity had flowed down to the tenth century, it was
no longer pure as at its source. But follow the stream as it branches
east and west, and observe which of the two remains the purer.[10]
And if this be said to be _negative_, and much of it belonging to the
past, then other considerations may be adduced which seem to bring the
Greek Church nearer to the English than many suppose, and notably so
in two vital points, namely, the attitude of the Russian Church to the
Holy Scriptures,[11] and her doctrine respecting salvation through
Christ alone.[12] She does not forbid or hide the Scriptures from the
people, even if she neglects them, nor has she stereotyped her errors
by the claim to infallibility. There is room, therefore, to hope for a
change for the better, which in my humble opinion should be attempted
from within, by a wider circulation and more general study of the
Scriptures; next, by a vastly increased amount of good and Scriptural
preaching; and, once more, by a powerful attack on the prevailing sin
of intemperance. Would the priests only endeavour to instil into their
people, respecting drink, half the abstemiousness and self-denial that
they teach them to observe concerning forbidden food, they would render
Russia such a service as I have no words to express.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] In an Episcopal Church, for instance, there were not to be more
than one protopope, two treasurers, five priests, four deacons, two
readers, and two sacristans, besides thirty-three choristers. In
parishes of large extent there were to be two priests, two deacons, two
choristers, and two sacristans, reckoning one priest for every hundred
houses.

[2] On the Amur I heard of merchants and, in exceptional cases, even
yemstchiks, being ordained; also of students, for lack of a sufficiency
of priests, being ordered deacons at the age of 20 (instead of 22), and
sometimes made priests seven days after.

[3] There are, or were, several curious customs and regulations among
the Russian clergy with respect to matrimony. A man cannot join the
ranks of the white clergy unless he be “the husband of one wife.”
Formerly he was obliged, or expected, to marry a priest’s daughter;
and as a priest’s daughter sometimes received her father’s living for
her dowry, a young priest not infrequently found himself, in this
way, settled for life; though, if the father-in-law were old and
merely retired, then the son-in-law was expected to keep him. In these
arrangements the bishop played a part, for knowing, on one hand, the
young men coming forward for ordination, and being kept informed, on
the other, regarding the marriageable daughters of his clergy, he could
frequently make suggestions for the benefit of all parties concerned.
There prevailed, too, in former times in Russia, a pernicious custom,
that every clergyman’s son was obliged to follow the profession of
his father. This is no longer compulsory: and the sons of the clergy,
finding themselves free, choose other callings to such an extent that
there is now a lack of candidates for the priesthood. Candidates,
however, are still drawn for the most part from the homes of the
clergy, and from the lower class of merchants. Quite recently, I am
informed, a few of the Russian nobility have taken Holy Orders.

[4] Dr. Neale, in his learned work on the Eastern Church, says, “The
Russian clergy never possessed tithes. Their income arises from
Easter offerings, fees, and glebe, the minimum of the glebe being
181½ acres, to be divided between four clergy.” I have heard that the
usual remuneration for a country priest in Russia is from £22 to £25 a
year, and his share of the glebe. To these must be added, I suppose,
his fees. The town priests receive no regular stipend from Government,
but in Petersburg and Moscow the income from some of the parishes
amounts to £600, or more, to be apportioned amongst several clergy. At
a cathedral I attended, I was informed that the protopope, from all
sources, received about £500 a year and a house; two priests from £220
to £250 each; the deacon about £180; and the psalmist or dïechok from
£90 to £150; the whole available sum for all the parish clergy in this
cathedral being from £1,500 to £1,800 a year. At another cathedral,
in the provinces, I was told that the bishop received £110 from the
Government, and £75 from the monastery, with monks as servants free.
A correspondent further informs me that metropolitans and archbishops
receive “large sums for the maintenance of their house, church,
singers, serving monks, and other comforts, of which they can take or
leave as much as they like”; the “large sums” quoted, with these not
insignificant expenses, being from £625 to £1,250 a year; and this for
men who rank ecclesiastically with English primates!

[5] The Russian priests labour under great social disadvantages. They
are less instructed than what are called the “educated classes” of
their countrymen, and so do not mingle with them on a social equality;
and in many of the towns of the interior, intellectual affairs are on
so low a level that the priest’s most intelligent companion is the
schoolmaster, lately arrived perhaps from the capital with a smattering
of neology. In one parish of which I know, the old priest said that the
new schoolmaster had been telling him, among other like things, that it
was not God who made the world, etc., etc., till the priest hardly knew
what was right or otherwise. He could not think what a lay person could
possibly find to preach about from a verse out of the Bible. This same
priest, when recommended pastorally to visit his flock, said, “I never
appear among my people except to ask for corn, milk, and eggs, and thus
they hate the sight of me.” He had not even a Bible, and said he never
possessed one.

[6] One of these blank forms, given me by a protopope, relates to each
of the clergy in a particular church. Here are the headings of some of
the columns:--

1. Name; place of birth; from what rank in society; where educated,
and in what subjects; when promoted to last appointment, by whom, and
to what office; whether holding any additional appointment; when and
how rewarded for service; whether having a family, and, if so, of what
number.

2. What he knows; of what capacity in reading and explaining the
catechism, Scriptures, etc.; whether he be a singer; and how many times
in the year he has composed his own sermons.

3. His children; their place of education; character; what they are
learning; and their behaviour at home.

4. His family relations.

5. Whether he has ever been accused before the court, and how punished;
or whether the trial is still pending.

[7] The excellent Russian book on the duty of parish priests, speaking
of drunkenness fifty years ago, says, “Yet though drunkenness is
a sin so grievous and deadly, there are very many in our time who
scarcely pass a day without indulging their sottish passion for drink.
Wherefore ... the councils forbid ... all clerks ... so much as to
enter a tavern, under pain of deprivation and excommunication.” This
is a painful and humiliating subject, though the more respectable
amongst the Russians regard the matter in various lights. Some, of
course, condemn such priests unmercifully. One man told me he had not
communicated for several years; “for,” said he, “how can I in the
morning receive the sacrament from the hands of my country priest
when I know that before night he will probably be inebriated?” To
which some, in effect, reply that he should look at the _light_ and
not only at the _lantern_; as a religious general said to me, “If my
priest supplies me properly with the ordinances of the Church, I am
not concerned with his private life--that lies between God and his
own soul.” Others, again, make allowance for their great temptations.
On five festivals in the year, at least, such as Christmas, New Year,
Easter, etc., the priest is supposed to go the round of his parish and
say a prayer in every house; and on these festive occasions refreshment
stands on the sideboard, and _vodka_, or spirits, is offered as
drink--the evil results of which, among clergy and laity, on one of the
festivals, I myself could not but observe.

[8] There are four great fasts in the year, during which are eaten
only bread, vegetables, and fish: 1. Lent; 2. St. Peter’s fast, from
Whit-Monday to the 29th June; 3. Fast of the Virgin Mary, from August
1st to 15th; and 4. St. Philip’s fast, from November 15th to December
26th. Wednesday and Friday also are fast-days.

[9] The Lavra of Egypt are supposed to have been collections of tents
in the deserts, where each provided for himself, but joined the rest in
common devotions. Cœnobia were institutions where all lived associated.
The discipline is the same in all three, but the Stauropegia are under
the direct jurisdiction, not of the bishops, but of the Synod. Dr.
Neale gives the numbers of Russian monasteries for men at 435, and for
women, 113. My almanack mentions a gross total of 472. Greek monks
need not be ecclesiastics, and are all of the order of St. Basil. The
head of a large monastery is called an archimandrite (or abbot); of a
smaller monastery, a hegumen (or prior), whilst the lady superior of
a monastery for women is called a hegumena. There are monk priests,
and also monk deacons, and in the churches attached to the nunneries a
large part of the service is performed by the nuns. Among the Russian
monks, according to Dr. King, are three degrees: novices, who should
serve three years; the proficients, who wear the lesser habit; and
the perfect, who wear the greater or angelic habit, which last are
said to be uncommon in Russia. Men are not admitted to be monks till
30 years of age, and nuns do not receive the tonsure till 60, or at
least 50. Younger women may enter as probationers; but they take no
vow, and are at liberty to leave and be married. Probationers, whether
men or women, wear a black velvet hat without a brim, and the men a
black cassock. Proficients have a black veil attached to the hat (with
metropolitans this is white), and monastics of the third degree always
wear the veil or hood down, and never suffer their faces to be seen.
In the time of Peter the Great the monasteries had become homes for
the idle, and he issued many salutary rules concerning them. Monastics
were to confess and receive the communion four times a year, though
they were not compelled to confess to their own superior. They were to
avoid idleness; were not allowed (with the exception of the superior,
the aged, and infirm) to keep servants; were not to receive or pay
visits without permission; and in all monasteries the monks were to
be strictly kept to the study of the Bible, the most learned were to
explain it, and such only were to be promoted to offices and dignities.

[10] When clerical celibacy, for instance, was imposed in the West, it
was not followed in the East, nor was the cup denied to the Russian
laity when it was withheld from the Roman. The Russian Church never
fabricated a purgatory, and then sold indulgences to get people out
of it. The Eastern Church has never added uncatholic articles to the
Nicene Creed, as in that of Pope Pius the Fourth, and issued the whole
as binding upon all who would be saved. Again, the errors of the East
have at least the stamp of antiquity. They have not added to the
Christian faith novel articles, such as the Immaculate Conception of
the Virgin, or still less claimed a supremacy and infallibility which
in the early Christian councils would need only to have been mentioned
to have been scouted; but in a very real sense it maybe said that
Russia has kept the faith as she received it.

[11] It may surprise some, as I confess it at first surprised me, to
learn the place the Russian Church gives to the Bible in her “Treatise
on the Duty of Parish Priests,”--a book by two Russian bishops,
which has been adopted by the whole Sclavonian Church, and which all
candidates for orders are required to have read, and to show their
acquaintance with before being ordained. The book begins by saying that
“to teach the people is the priest’s very first duty,” and then (VII.)
that the priest is to teach the faith and the law; that (IX.) “all the
articles of faith are contained in the Word of God--that is, in the
books of the Old and New Testament”; and that (XI.) “none other books
are to be held by us as Divine Scriptures, or called the Word of God,
than the two volumes of the Old and New Testaments.” Again (XIII.),
that “the writings of the Holy Fathers are of great use.... But neither
the writings of the Holy Fathers, nor the traditions of the Church, are
to be confounded or equalled with the Word of God and His commandments;
for the Word of God is one thing, but the writings of the Holy Fathers
and traditions ecclesiastical are another.” And further (XXXII.), “So
great being this work of teaching, etc. ... we cannot fail to see how
needful it is for the priest to abound both in word and in wisdom, in
order to the well-fulfilling of this his vast duty; and the only way
hereto is that he be skilled and nourished up from a child in Holy
Scripture.”

[12] The “Treatise on the Duty of Parish Priests” reads (XXIX.): “Since
the sole beginner and perfecter of our holy faith and of everlasting
salvation is our Lord Jesus Christ (Heb. xii. 2), and there is none
other name under heaven given among men whereby we must be saved, but
only His (Acts iv. 12), ... it is plain that in each of the above
kinds of teaching, the priest ought to instil the knowledge of Christ
Jesus, inculcate His doctrine, dwell on His exceeding compassion, and
possess the soul with this truth, that Christ _alone is made unto us
of God wisdom, righteousness, sanctification, and redemption_ (1 Cor.
i. 30).... In every case, I say, according to circumstances, he can
implant, and is in duty bound to implant, the knowledge of Christ
Jesus; and so all instruction, and every particular instruction, should
be grounded on Christ; for all that can be either written or said in
reference to the faith, and to everlasting happiness, if it be not
grounded on faith in Christ, is unfruitful, and can never save.”

CHAPTER XVII.

_FROM TOMSK TO KRASNOIARSK._

Book-distribution in Western Siberia.--Departure from
Tomsk.--Postbells.--How to sit in posting.--Sleeping.--Boundary
of Western Siberia.--Wild and domesticated
animals.--Birds.--Scenery.--Roadside villages.--Peasants’
houses.--Hammering up “the Prodigal Son.”--Siberian
towns.--Houses of upper classes.--Misadventures.--A hospitable
merchant.--Frontier of Eastern Siberia.

I have said that, on returning to Tomsk, we found the remainder of our
books arrived. The reader may like to know how we had prospered in
relation to their distribution through Western Siberia. Our singular
mission greatly puzzled the Russians. I have since heard how it reached
the ears of the worthy Archbishop of Tobolsk that a strange Englishman
had been through the district, leaving thousands of books to be given
away. Like a watchful shepherd, his first anxiety was to see that they
contained no heresy. Having examined the books, however, and perused
a set of the tracts, he found them exceedingly good, and would by no
means put anything in the way of their distribution; but, said his
Eminence, “Those English are a queer lot, and there must surely be
some ulterior motive behind it.” To the same effect were many of the
officials’ cogitations as they oozed out and reached me from time
to time. We met with no opposition, however, or even questioning of
what we were doing. The fact that the revolutionists have sometimes
distributed seditious leaflets inside pamphlets approved by the censor
makes the police on the alert in European Russia; but I have usually
found even there, so long as all was clear and above-board, that the
authorities were willing to forward my endeavours; and I so far availed
myself of this willingness in Siberia as to distribute more through the
authorities than formerly, and less in proportion with our own hands.
Still, we gave an immense number personally, and many also we sold,
on the principle that a man values most what he pays for. At each of
the towns and villages on the Obi we made up parcels and sent them
with a note to the parish priest, asking him to distribute the books
gratuitously. As the periodical--_The Russian Workman_--could be had
post-free for a rouble a year, many said they should get it. One man
intimated that he should write for 50 copies forthwith, and another
that he should get the same number of subscribers in his neighbourhood,
on the Lower Obi, where he had built a little church, and had had his
son instructed to read to the people. Our greatest success, however, in
Western Siberia, and one that would have repaid us for all our trouble,
has since proved to be the plans laid at Tiumen, through which town,
as observed before, some 18,000 exiles pass yearly. From data given me
in the prison, we had calculated that there would be about 2,000 pass
during the summer who could read, and for these I left 1,980 Russian
Scripture portions, 36 Polish, German, French, Tatar, and Mongolian
Scriptures, 546 copies of the _Rooski Rabotchi_, and 2,520 tracts. The
exiles going east are sent away in the barge weekly, and, before the
party starts, a religious service is held by a priest at Tiumen. I have
since heard that after this service, throughout the summer, our books
were distributed; so that I trust they are now to be found not only
among the convicts in prisons, but also with those who have been sent
to live free, but in comparative solitude, in the furthest corners of
the country.

Some have shaken their heads and said that the men would sell the
books, and make cigarettes of the tracts. This, however, I doubt; but,
even if it be so, it may simply mean, in the case of the Scriptures,
that a book has passed from the hands of one who did not care for it to
those of one who does. But the Russians have great respect, amounting
almost to superstition, for what they call “holy books”; and such books
are a great deal too scarce to allow of their being generally uncared
for. Moreover, in Siberia, books of this character and tracts are
_new_. In European Russia, many, on receiving the books, said they had
no idea there were such publications in existence; and we had cases in
Asia of soldiers giving their last kopeck to get a copy of the Gospels,
the Psalms, or the New Testament.

Before leaving Tomsk we gave the Governor books for the public
institutions of his government, and left with him boxes to be forwarded
to the residence of the Governor-General Kaznakoff, at Omsk. I had
been made acquainted with this latter officer, both officially and
privately, in Petersburg, and had been invited to call upon him on my
return through Omsk, to be introduced to his family. The general had
told me also to telegraph to him in case I got into prison, or in the
event of any other small casualty, and I looked forward with pleasure
to my visit; but with my subsequent change of plans, I wrote asking
that the books I had sent might be distributed in the provinces of
Akmolinsk and Semipolatinsk, and thus finished arrangements for the
supply of the public institutions in all the four provinces of Western
Siberia: our total distribution thus far being 4,000 Scriptures and
9,000 pamphlets and tracts.

We now prepared to drive into Eastern Siberia, and on Thursday evening,
June 19th, galloped out of Tomsk in two troikas, containing ourselves
and baggage--the latter reduced, but still a heavy load. Outside the
town the tongues of our horses’ bells were unloosed, and we jingled
merrily along. The said bells are placed beneath the _douga_, over the
centre horse, and are intended to give notice to the public generally,
and all whom it may concern, that _post_-horses are coming, and,
accordingly, that it is their bounden duty to get out of the way.
If they fail to do this, which is sometimes the case, especially at
night, when the drivers of slow-going vehicles are nodding on their
seats, then “the rule of the road” is that the post-boy may give
them a cut with his whip--a visitation inflicted sometimes upon men,
and sometimes, with caravans, upon the leading horse, which, in his
driver’s absence or sleep, is supposed to know the side of the road he
ought to take.

We were now becoming accustomed to our jolting mode of travel, and I
had already discovered a secret in connection therewith worth handing
down to posterity. It concerns the position of the body and legs in the
tarantass. If you place your heels against the front of the vehicle,
or against a bag or box, your feet become excessively tired; and if you
lie at full length, flat, you may soon imagine yourself in a ship’s
berth, rolling from side to side. Now, my golden secret is this: First
secure to yourself (in a hole if possible) a soft, springy base upon
which to sit, and then place on that a ribbed circular air-cushion.
Secondly, put your down-pillow behind at an angle of 60 degrees, and,
if you like, an air-pillow, without ribs, in the nape of your neck.
But the next arrangement is the most important. Draw up your legs
till the knees come on a level with your chin; then put beneath the
knee-pits a soft parcel or bag, sufficiently high to leave the feet
dangling above the ground; and the result will be that you will travel
with comparative comfort by night and by day continuously for 1,000
miles. Being thus fixed before and behind, and kept laterally straight
by the side of the vehicle and your companion, the only direction in
which you can be shot is upwards and heavenwards, to come down, alas!
on the old spot; and this must be accepted as your minimum amount
of local disturbance. The reader may think it utterly impossible to
sleep under such circumstances--and at first it is so. But Nature will
assert her claims. A Siberian priest told us that, when he travelled
from Europe, he could not at first sleep at all in the tarantass; but
that, when at last he did so, he lost no less than three hats whilst
wrapped in slumber. As for myself, I soon learnt to doze; and in my
journal of June 21st I find the entry, “Managed to sleep quite soundly
in the tarantass till 8 o’clock this morning.” It was not always,
however, one could sleep the whole night through; and I recollect on
one occasion awaking from a beautiful dream of pleasant society in an
English drawing-room to find myself, to my disgust, outside a Siberian
post-house. On another occasion I had been sleeping soundly, and, on
looking out early in the morning, found that the driver had followed
my example; and the horses, not feeling the lash, had followed suit,
and so we had come to a standstill, and all were slumbering together. I
gave the man, however (to confess it for once), a dig in the back; his
whip fell on the horses, and they galloped in style to the end of the
stage.

On the third day after leaving Tomsk, we approached the boundary that
divides Western from Eastern Siberia; but up to this point we had not
met with a large number of wild animals. No wolves came alongside the
tarantass as they did last year in the Caucasus, nor did we so much
as catch sight of a bear, as on my journey from Archangel.[1] As to
domesticated animals, large herds of cows were seen, and milk was
abundant. Strange to say, however, the people make little or no cheese;
and the peasants do not usually butter their bread. Their fresh butter,
when they make it, is without salt, and is generally used for cooking.
The pigs of the country are a long-legged breed, and are frequently
seen running about the village streets. They furnish the long bristles
from their mane which are used for making brooms.

We saw no lack of birds of prey in Western Siberia, for hawks of
various kinds are seen sailing gracefully over every town. We met with
the largest number of sportsmen’s birds between Tiumen and Tobolsk,
chiefly water-birds, with wild ducks and geese in abundance. I tasted
at Ekaterineburg the _gluchar_, or cock of the wood, the same as our
capercailzie. It was a well-tasted bird, from whose breast ten persons
were helped, and it may be bought in the winter at Ekaterineburg for
8_d._ In the Altai regions is found a magnificent eagle called the
bearcoot, of which specimens are shown in the Barnaul Museum. It is
strong enough to kill a deer with ease; and it not unfrequently happens
that, when wolves have killed and begun to eat their prey, a pair
of bearcoots will attack and kill or drive them away, and eat their
intended meal. The Kirghese tame these birds for the purpose of hunting.

As we pursued our way towards Eastern Siberia, there was a slight
improvement in the landscape. For a long distance, after leaving Tomsk,
the country was flat; but in the direction of Krasnoiarsk was seen
a range of hills to the south, dotted with pine-trees, the country
looking English-like and fertile, well wooded, and here and there under
cultivation. Hitherto the herbage had been singularly luxuriant; but,
from the station next before Atchinsk, pasture became less plentiful,
and thus, in a measure, explained why henceforth our hire of horses was
to cost us double. The number of towns and villages along the road for
the first 400 miles of the way--that is, from Tomsk to Krasnoiarsk--was
more numerous than might be expected, though, the further east we went,
the further apart they were. The post-houses were rarely more than
from ten to fifteen miles distant from one another, and we frequently
drove through two or three intervening villages. To describe one
village is to describe them all--the chief difference being that whilst
each consists of a single street, with detached houses on either side
of the way, some villages are larger than others. One we passed through
was said to be nearly three miles long. The said street is usually
wide, but never by any chance paved, though now and then a few boards
are laid down for a footway. Nor is the street usually beautified with
anything worthy the name of a garden. Now and then a few trees are
planted in front of a house, but with such a high, clumsy palisade to
keep off the cattle, that the attempted cultivation of beauty becomes
rather a disfigurement than otherwise. The priest’s house is often one
of the best in the place. So, again, the post-house usually stands out
prominently; and if there happen to be any Government official in the
village, an extra coat of paint, or some little ornamentation about
the exterior, may point out the house inhabited by superiors; but
ordinarily the houses of the peasants or farmers are very much alike.
The foundation may perchance be of stone, but all else is of wood.
For the walls, trees are cut and barked, slightly flattened by being
cut away on two opposite sides, and then laid one above the other,
the ends being dovetailed together at the corners. The interstices
between the logs are calked with moss, and the roof is generally of
overlapping boards. So long as the foundation holds good, the houses
look tolerably neat; but when this begins to give, or the logs to rot,
they become strained and warped in so many directions as to present
a very dilapidated appearance. When the houses are intended for the
accommodation of human beings only, they generally have no second
storey; but in the case of farm-houses, where cattle are sheltered, we
frequently found them having an upper storey approached by an outside
staircase. There were usually also out-houses adjoining, and under the
same roof; so that one had but to leave the dwelling-room upstairs,
cross a passage, and open a door, to find oneself looking down upon
beasts and cattle, and other denizens of a farm-yard, which share the
same roof, though not, like the Irish pig, the same apartments as their
owners. The interior of the house is as simple as the outside. In the
centre is a brick stove. The walls are whitewashed or papered, and
adorned with pictures according to the means and taste of the owners.
Portraits of the Imperial family figure largely, so do battle scenes,
pictures of the saints, and family photographs. As already observed,
I took with me a large number of illustrated prints of “The Prodigal
Son,” round which was written the parable in Russ. Having provided
myself with a hammer and tacks, I was wont to go into the guest-room at
the post-houses, and there nail up the picture, to the great admiration
usually of the post-master. I have heard from a gentleman, who has
recently crossed Siberia, that these pictures still adorn the walls
of the post-houses, and that the books given with them are carefully
preserved. My action, however, was not always understood at first,
especially by those who could not read. One woman, who saw only an
early stage of my operations, ran off to her husband as frightened as
if I had been nailing up an Imperial ukase. They usually proceeded at
once to read the parable; some said they should have it framed; and one
post-master, a Jew, said in German, as he finished reading, that it was
“a right good story.”

What has been said of Siberian houses thus far refers more especially
to the houses of the peasantry and their villages. The traveller,
however, from Tomsk passes certain small towns which have cross
streets, wooden footways, perchance a small hospital, and the residence
of an ispravnik, or a few well-to-do merchants. On entering the
dwelling of one of these classes, one finds large rooms, papered walls,
and painted floors, with perhaps a square of carpet near the sofa and
table. Things look plain but comfortable within; and the out-houses,
such as kitchen and bath-house, are at a convenient distance in the
yard. The liability of the kitchen to catch fire partly accounts for
its being detached; and these out-houses serve as a residence for the
servants.

Houses occupied by persons highest in position, such as governors of
provinces, and high military officers, are also of wood, and often
without a second storey; but the rooms are more spacious and _en
suite_, enlivened with flowers and creepers, and the tables enriched by
articles of _virtu_ from Europe. It is interesting to an Englishman to
see how many things from London find their way to these remote regions.
Thus, when sitting at a desk, one finds oneself among Cumberland leads
and Perry’s coloured pencils, and a dozen other trifles, reminders of
home.

Our journey from Tomsk to Krasnoiarsk was not entirely devoid of
incident, our misadventures being connected for the most part with
a limping wheel. Our first misadventure happened in returning from
Barnaul, when, in the middle of the night, in the midst of a field,
one of our shafts broke. But this might have happened anywhere; and
fortunately there happened to be a man resting by the roadside to feed
his horses, who lent us his pole to go to the next station. Early in
the morning, however, it was discovered that our Siberian Jehu had been
driving so furiously that, like Phaëton, his classical ancestor, he had
set the wheels on fire. Matters were made worse for want of a smith at
hand; and when we found a smith, he had no coal. We applied, therefore,
a liberal allowance of grease, and limped on to Tomsk, where the whole
concern was supposed to be put in order and cleaned, with the addition
of new shafts and mended wheels, at a cost of nearly £2. We had not
travelled four-and-twenty hours before the wheel was again on fire,
and we paid several shillings for the repair of the axletree; a little
further on, 24_s._ more; and then, on the evening of the third day, we
arrived at a village where lived a smith. Now this man was well known
in the district as an extortioner. He came to us clad in a pea-green
dressing-gown, and smoked a cigarette as he leisurely walked round the
tarantass, just as a man surveys a horse. He informed us that he would
put us right for £5, which we flatly refused to give. “But you will
certainly break down if you proceed,” urged the extortioner. “Then,”
said I, “if we do, we will not come to _you_ for assistance.” Said some
of the people, “You had better go on to the next station at Bogotol,
where there lives a merchant named So-and-so; and if you ask him he
will recommend you to an honest wheelwright.” With our spokes roped
together, therefore, and wetted, we waddled on, and arrived at Bogotol
between three and four in the morning.

“Is the merchant So-and-so at home?” was the first question we asked
at the post-house. “Yes,” said they; “but he is asleep, and will get
up for nobody.” “Indeed,” said I to my interpreter, “will you go to
him and say as politely as you can that an Englishman travelling to
Irkutsk has met with an accident, and will be greatly obliged if he can
recommend him an honest wheelwright?” And off went Mr. Interpreter,
with a glum countenance, evidently not liking his job. He knocked at
the merchant’s door, expecting to get roundly abused for his intrusion.
But the merchant, on ascertaining what was the matter, asked the
stranger in, and shouted to his servants, Peter, Timothy, and John, to
bestir themselves. One he sent for the wheelwright, another to heat the
samovar, and a third to prepare some food; and then, said he, “I cannot
think of letting you go till the wheelwright comes, and all is going
well”; after which he plied his visitor with talk, telling him what a
famous place was Siberia; that any one might come in his neighbourhood,
and, without payment, till as much land or cut as much grass as he
liked, no man forbidding him; though labour, he added, was scarce, and
imported goods dear. Thus, after tea and talk, and the arrival of the
workman, the merchant returned to his slumbers. But I thought this
one of the finest examples of hospitality and kindness to strangers I
had ever met with, and I wondered much whether a broken-down Russian
traveller, knocking up an Englishman at four in the morning, and
asking to be recommended to an honest wheelwright, would have received
a kindlier reception. The honest wheelwright mended us up for a few
shillings, and, after calling to thank the merchant, we started, and
about noon reached Krasnorechinska. Here we called upon the priest, who
had 3,000 parishioners, of whom he said 200 could read, for whom we
gave him some pamphlets, and sold him four New Testaments. He possessed
a large Russian Bible, which cost upwards of six shillings, and was, he
said, the cheapest to be had.

By night we reached Atchinsk, the first station in Eastern Siberia,
and although the roads were perceptibly better immediately we crossed
the border, our poor wheel was out of trim again, and threatened to
detain us far into the morrow. And now came sundry physicians to
administer advice, chiefly, however, in their own favour. One wished
to sell us a new wheel for £1, another to make an exchange of our two
front wheels for £2, and so on; in answer to which I declared that
I would go straight to the Ispravnik and show my grand letter from
Petersburg. “But,” urged Mr. Interpreter, “the Ispravnik has nothing
to do with mending wheels!” “True,” I replied; but--“Let us go!” And
so we did, and were kindly received. “If your axletrees are of iron,”
said the Ispravnik, “I doubt whether there are any persons in the place
capable of mending them; but, even if there are, they will most likely
be drunk, as to-day is a _fête_; and you must therefore wait till
to-morrow.” I pleaded, however that he should do his best, and things
turned out better than he prophesied. A wheelwright was found, who for
half-a-crown enabled us to proceed, and early next morning we reached
Krasnoiarsk.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Mr. Atkinson gives the following list of mammalia as inhabiting
Siberia:--The reindeer, stag, roebuck, elk; the argali, or wild sheep,
and wild boar; the jackal, wolf, tiger, and bear; the Corsac and Arctic
foxes; the lynx, glutton, and polecat; the beaver, otter, badger,
hedgehog, ermine, Arctic hare; sable; flying, striped, and common
squirrels; the Siberian and common marmots; the water and common rats;
the mouse, bat, and mole.

CHAPTER XVIII.

_THE YENESEI._

Sources of the river.--Discoveries of Wiggins and
Nordenskiöld.--The Yenesei at Krasnoiarsk.--Current,
width, depth.--Breaking up of ice.--The Yeneseisk
province.--Geography.--Meteorology.--Forests.--Timber.--Fish of
Yenesei.--Birds.--Russian population.--Navigation.--Corn and
cattle.--Towns.--A Scoptsi village.--Salubrity of climate.--The
aborigines.--Ethnology.--Tunguses.--Fur-bearing animals.--Methods
of hunting.--Minerals.

The most remarkable of the natural features of the Yeneseisk province
is its wonderful river, the Yenesei,[1] much of our knowledge of which,
below Krasnoiarsk, we owe to the discoveries of Wiggins and Seebohm,
Nordenskiöld and Théel, all of whose information has come to us within
the past seven years.[2]

As I stood on the banks of the Yenesei at Krasnoiarsk, it appeared to
me the most majestic stream I had ever beheld; and, when looking at
the rush of its waters, I was thankful that we had attempted nothing
so rash as to descend by a raft on its bosom; for, however pleasant a
method of travelling from Minusinsk this might be in summer, it would
be nothing short of madness to attempt it during the spring floods.
Some idea of the swiftness of the current may be gathered from the
report of M. Théel, who says that, including stoppages and without
rowing, they were carried in their boat from Krasnoiarsk to Yeneseisk,
a distance of 300 miles, in 2½ days; that is to say, they floated down
the stream at just about the same speed as we attained with three
horses at our best travelling, namely, 130 miles in a day and night.
Allowing for stoppages, they floated at the rate of seven miles an
hour. Dr. Peacock, who lives at Krasnoiarsk, informed me that the river
in quiet places has a current of five miles an hour; in swifter places
of 10 miles, and in some very rapid parts of 17 miles an hour; but
this last may perchance refer to the two rapids, through one of which
M. Théel’s party had to shoot at Padporoschensk, about 170 miles below
Krasnoiarsk, and the other, of which Mr. Seebohm speaks as remaining
unfrozen all the winter through.[3]

I imagine that the grandest thing to be witnessed on the Lower Yenesei
is the breaking-up of the ice, which Mr. Seebohm has described as
he saw it in 1877. Proceeding down the river on the ice with Captain
Wiggins, they reached the ship _Thames_ in her winter quarters near the
confluence of the Kureika with the Yenesei, and were quietly waiting
for the opening of the navigation, when on the 1st of June commenced
what Mr. Seebohm calls the “battle of the Yenesei.” The pressure
underneath caused a large field of ice to break away, which, by
collision with an angular point of the bank, resulted in the piling up
of a little range of ice mountains 50 or 60 feet high, and picturesque
in the extreme. Huge blocks of ice, six feet thick and 20 feet long,
were seen standing perpendicularly, whilst others were crushed up in
fragments like broken pottery. Some were white, and some clear as
glass, and blue as an Italian sky. Then the river began to rise, and
in the course of the night the whole crust of the Yenesei, as far as
could be seen, broke up with a tremendous crash, and a dense mass of
ice-floes and pack-ice rushed irresistibly up the Kureika, driving the
poor ship like a toy before it, and leaving it in the evening, amidst
huge hummocks of ice, almost high and dry. The velocity of these masses
of pack-ice on the Yenesei was reckoned on some days to be not less
than 20 miles an hour. This sort of thing continued for a fortnight,
and during two days it was calculated that 50,000 acres of ice passed
the ship up the constantly changing Kureika, which alternately rose
and fell. Many square miles of ice were marched up for some hours,
and then marched back again. Sometimes the pack-ice and floes were
jammed so tightly together that it looked as if one might scramble
across the river without much difficulty. At other times there was
a good deal of open water, and the icebergs “calved” as they went
along, with much commotion and splashing, that could be heard a mile
off. Underlayers of icebergs grounded, and after the velocity of the
enormous mass had caused it to pass on, the “calves,” or pieces left
behind, rose to the surface like whales coming up to breathe. Some of
them must have done so from a good depth, for they rose out of the
water with a considerable splash, and rocked about for some time before
settling down to their floating level. At last took place the final
march past of the beaten winter forces in this great 14 days’ “battle,”
and for seven days more came slowly down the stragglers of the great
Arctic army--worn and weather-beaten little icebergs, dirty ice-floes
looking like mudbanks, and broken pack-ice in the last stage of
destruction--after which the river was found to have risen to a height
of 70 feet.

To proceed, however, from the river to the basin through which it
flows. The Yenesei gives its name to Yeneseisk, that central Siberian
province which is bounded on the west by the governments of Tobolsk and
Tomsk, and on the east by those of Yakutsk and Irkutsk. It is the only
province that stretches across the country from the Altai range to the
Arctic Ocean, a distance from north to south of nearly 2,000 miles;
or, to put it in another way, it extends from the latitude of London
to that of the most northerly point of Asia, within 14 degrees of the
North Pole.[4]

The province is divided into six uyezds, with six principal towns,
viz., Krasnoiarsk, Minusinsk, Yeneseisk, Kansk, Atchinsk, and
Turukhansk. The differences of temperature between its various parts
are, of course, very great. The southern portions about Minusinsk we
heard spoken of as the Italy of Siberia; and at Krasnoiarsk, towards
the end of June, we found the temperature like that of an English
summer. Further north, at Yeneseisk, the greatest heat of the year 1877
(registered in June) was 92·5, whilst the greatest cold sunk to 59·2
below zero. This cold was exceeded in December of the same year at
Turukhansk, where the thermometer sank to 63·0 below zero.

The province is covered with magnificent forests up to the Arctic
Circle, but the trees rapidly diminish in size further north, and
disappear soon after lat. 69°. These forests are principally of pine.
In the neighbourhood of Krasnoiarsk the pine and the larch attain to
colossal dimensions. The pine frequently rises to 200 feet in height,
but is never more than six feet in diameter at the base. The larch,
which has the furthest northern range, sometimes attains to the same
height, but its diameter is but four feet on the surface of the
ground.[5]

The forests abound with animal life, as do the rivers with fish. Fish
forms the principal food of the natives, and in summer almost every
one is a fisherman, using nets and lines, or spearing by torchlight.
In the Yenesei are found pike, ruff, perch, and tench, all which are
little esteemed, and serve as food for the dogs. The more valued are
the sturgeon, salmon, and various species of the genus _Coregonus_. The
common sturgeon is caught along the whole Yenesei, and sometimes weighs
more than 200 lbs. The sterlet usually weighs only three or four lbs.,
but occasionally reaches 18. The salmon is most numerous in the upper
course of the river at Minusinsk, where it is caught in great numbers.

The birds of the Yeneseisk province have received much attention from
Mr. Seebohm. He brought home, in 1877, about 500 eggs, and more than
1,000 skins, but he thinks that he would have had a still larger bag
had he made Yeneseisk his head-quarters instead of the Kureika. He
speaks of a perfect Babel of birds when the ice was breaking up at the
beginning of June. Gulls, geese, and swans were flying about in all
directions, also flocks of redpoles and shore-larks, bramblings and
wagtails; and in the course of the summer were seen the sea-eagle, the
rough-legged buzzard, the sparrow-hawk, and various kinds of owls. In
addition to our species of cuckoo, the Himalayan cuckoo made its way to
these regions, though it had a different note to that of our English
bird--a guttural and hollow-sounding _hoo_, which could be heard at a
great distance. Ravens and carrion-crows were plentiful, and jackdaws,
magpies, and starlings were seen at Yeneseisk, though the jackdaw and
starling did not go much further north, which remark applies also to
the bullfinch. The nut-cracker was found as far north as the Kureika,
where it showed a desire to be sociable, and often perched on the
rigging of the _Thames_. Besides these, Mr. Seebohm, among many other
birds, mentions the thrush, the black, hazel, and willow grouse, the
capercailzie, bittern, crane, lapwing, and golden plover. Towards
the end of summer is to be seen, he says, a curious sight on the
tundras--flocks of geese in full moult and unable to fly.

The Russian population of the province is settled for the more part
in towns and villages by the side of the river, and along the great
high road crossing it. The natives wander over the remainder. Russian
villages are seen from 10 to 15 miles apart on the rivers’ banks, at
which travellers proceeding north may find oarsmen in summer and horses
in winter,--horses, that is, as far as Turukhansk, beyond which first
dogs and then reindeer are employed.

Most of the corn that is raised in the province grows about Minusinsk,
where it may be bought at a fabulously low price, and whence it is
brought down the river in barges and flat-bottomed boats.[6] Rye
is not cultivated further north than Antsiferova, 40 miles below
Yeneseisk, and oats not beyond Zotina, on the 60th parallel. Potatoes
are cultivated up to Turukhansk, but they are small. Agriculture, in
fact, practically ceases a little beyond Yeneseisk. The Russians alone
give any attention to it, as the natives are too busy fishing during
their short summers to till the land. Cattle are raised to some small
extent in the valley of the Yenesei, though the people do not appear
to understand how to make the most of them. Cows are found as far as
Dudinsk; but though in some of the villages they may have 40 or 50, it
is almost impossible to get a glass of milk, the calves being allowed
to take it all. An Anglo-Russian lady informs me that, were these cows
treated like English ones, even for a few days, they would lose their
milk; therefore a Russian cow is only partially milked, the rest being
left for her calf. A scientific gentleman told my friend that it is the
peculiarity of all cows only lately redeemed from a wild state to lose
their milk when deprived of their calves. The making of butter is only
half known on the Yenesei, and of cheese not at all. Sheep are found as
far as Vorogova, and goats up to Yeneseisk.

Of the towns and villages on the Yenesei, Yeneseisk is the oldest,
having been founded in 1618; and the most curious is that of
Silovanoff, near Turukhansk. It is inhabited by exiled _Scoptsi_, a
fanatical sect whose principal doctrine is based on Matt. xix. 12, who
mutilate themselves, and endeavour to persuade others to follow their
example. When these people are caught so acting, they are banished.[7]

[Illustration: OSTJAK WOMEN OF THE YENESEISK PROVINCE.]

It has already been intimated that the aborigines wander over the
uninhabited parts of the province. In the south, about Minusinsk, are
Tatars, most of whom have embraced the Christianity of the Russian
Church. In the north, to the west of the river, are the Samoyedes and
Ostjaks. West of the river, at the extreme north, are the Yuraks, and
below them the Tunguses, which latter wander over a far larger area
than any other tribe in Siberia.[8] Those in the Yeneseisk province
give themselves to the care of reindeer and to the chase. M. Théel
speaks of them as the most intelligent of the natives on the Yenesei,
and says that their rich women, probably wives of chiefs, often wear
furs of beaver, sable, and black fox to the value of many hundreds of
pounds sterling. He mentions also, as some proof of their intellectual
taste, that there was presented to him a hexagonal spindle of ivory,
upon which the days, the weeks, and the months were indicated by
different signs. He speaks also of a game they had resembling chess, of
which all the pieces were of ivory.

[Illustration: YURAK HUNTSMAN.]

Among the principal animals, objects of their chase, are the sable,
the common fox, the white fox, the elk, the reindeer, the wolf, the
bear, the ermine, and the squirrel. At the beginning of October, and
sometimes also of January, they start on snow-shoes. Alone, or in
company, the hunter goes into the virgin forest, some hundreds of
versts from any habitation, and is followed by a little sledge drawn by
dogs. If he finds the track of a sable, he follows, and, on lighting
upon the animal, he has not much difficulty in killing it. But the
sable often takes refuge in a hole, and then there is nothing to be
done but to await his pleasure in coming out; and as this may be by
night as well as by day, his retreat is covered with fine threads
attached to bells, which give the alarm. The hunter may thus have to
wait two or three days; but, if he happen to kill the much-coveted
animal, his trouble is well rewarded; for a good sable skin fetches
from 50_s._ to £10. In skinning, the coat ought not to be stretched;
but, on the contrary, contracted as much as possible, in order to
render the hairs more bushy, which enhances the value. Hence the skins
one meets with in commerce are all short and wide.

The common fox is taken with snares and traps. The black fox is very
rare in these parts, and its skin is valued up to £100. The white fox
is taken on the tundra by means of traps placed on the top of little
hills. This animal generally retires south towards the middle of
September; and as it is known that the fox, rather than jump over an
obstacle, however low, goes round it, the hunters, profiting by this
knowledge, set up barriers of branches, leaving openings where they
plant their snares, and catch their prey. The hunting of the elk is
carried on by men on snow-shoes; and such numbers of this animal are
killed that in some years one may buy at Yeneseisk as many as 10,000
skins. Reindeer are taken in numbers equally large, sometimes in traps,
and sometimes by driving whole herds into an enclosure, from which they
cannot get out.[9]

One of their modes of capturing the bear in the Yeneseisk province
is by fixing a wooden platform to the trunk of a tree, and at such
a height from the ground that the bear is forced to stand on his
hind-legs at full length to reach the middle. On this platform are
numerous barbed iron spikes, and at the higher part a joint of meat.
The bear arrives, stands up, and puts forward one paw to seize the
bait; but, bringing it down on the spikes, finds it fixed. The furious
animal puts down the second to release the first, which also is
caught, and he thus becomes an easy prey to the huntsman.

Thus the natives spend their days--fishing in summer and hunting in
winter. They have no towns, no villages, no houses, but live in tents
of skins or of bark, according to the season; and they have little
idea of civilized life, or the mineral wealth with which their country
abounds. Iron ore is found in the valley of the Yenesei, and from
the province, in 1877, 2,700 tons were cast; also from the mine of
graphite, on the Kureika, Captain Wiggins ballasted one of his vessels.
The greatest mineral product of the province, however, is gold, of
which I shall speak in the following chapter.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Its most distant sources rise under another name in Mongolia, on
the eastern side of the Khangai mountains, whence the Selenga and the
Orkhon, flowing together into Lake Baikal, emerge as the Angara, which
flows into the Yenesei proper near the town of Yeneseisk. The stream
that is _called_ the Yenesei, however, rises in the Tannu range of
the Altai mountains, whence it bursts through the Sayansk chain in
cataracts and rapids, and enters Siberia south of Minusinsk; and then,
flowing on beyond Krasnoiarsk, it is joined by the Angara, the Lower
and Upper Tunguska, and the Kureika, all flowing in on the right bank.
The Russians give its length as 3,472 miles, thus making the Yenesei
the fourth longest river in the world, being exceeded only by the Nile,
the Amazon, and the Mississippi.

[2] _See_ Appendix D.

[3] The gigantic proportions of the Yenesei will be further realized
from its width, which at Krasnoiarsk, 1,700 miles from the sea, is more
than 1,000 yards, and at Yeneseisk it measures rather more than a mile.
From thence it widens gradually, so that at the Kureika it enlarges to
about three miles; and between Tolstonosovsk and Goltchikha it expands
like a lake with a breadth of more than 40 miles. The delta and lagoon
formed by its waters are about 400 miles in length. The depth of the
river varies, of course, according to the season, but opposite Dudinsk
M. Théel’s sounding-line indicated a depth of 12 fathoms. The river has
a fall of 4,000 feet, and the banks generally are steep and lofty, from
60 to 100 feet above the water. Thus it would seem that comparatively
little land is covered by the summer floods, which is just the reverse
in the case of the Obi. M. Théel observes, however, that it frequently
happens, when one bank is high, the other is low, from which it follows
that the vegetation on either side assumes a somewhat different
character; for where the bank is low, and consequently exposed to
inundations, one sees abundance of willows, whilst the higher bank is
very often covered with fir, pine, and larch.

[4] The province has an area of nearly a million square miles--that
is to say, is somewhat larger than the aggregate surface covered
by Austria, France, Russia, Spain, and all the British possessions
in Europe. The southern part only is mountainous, all above the
60th parallel being flat and swampy. It has some half-dozen large
and thousands of smaller lakes in the _tundras_ of the north,
and the province is well watered by the Yenesei and its larger
affluents,--namely, the Angara, the Podkamennaia (or stony) Tunguska,
the Nijnaia (or lower) Tunguska, and the Kureika. In 1873 the
population was thus classified: hereditary nobles, 800; personally
noble, 1,600; ecclesiastical persons of all sorts, 4,000; townspeople,
20,000; rural population, 232,000; military, 15,000; foreigners, 42;
and others, probably aborigines, 122,000. The total population in 1880
was 372,000, or about three-fourths of the population of Liverpool.

[5] The larch is called in Russ _listvenitsa_ (from _list_, a leaf,
and _venets_, a crown), in allusion to the arrangement of its acicular
leaves. Its wood looks well for the walls and ceilings of the peasants’
rooms. The larch is highly valued also for its power of resisting the
effects of moisture, besides which, when used as fuel, it is found to
produce a high degree of heat (in which respect the birch comes next),
though it does not produce a brilliant light. For the tile-kilns it is
preferable to all other wood, but it is not used for charcoal, nor does
it serve well for burning in the house, on account of the pungent and
stupefying qualities of its smoke; nor in the furnaces used for the
manufacture of rolled iron plates, for it soils the metal.

The elegant spruce fir, with its branches almost down to the root
and trailing on the ground, is more abundant, and extends nearly as
far north. The Siberians look upon this tree as very important for
commercial purposes. The wood is white, light, and very elastic. It is
the favourite tree for masts, and is considered the best substitute
for ash for oars, and it makes the best “knees” for shipbuilding.
Snow-shoes also are generally made of this wood. The quality is good
down into the roots. It is, however, subject to very hard knots, which
are said to blunt the edge of any axe not made of Siberian steel. The
Siberian spruce is less abundant, and differs from the common spruce
in having a smooth bark of an ash-grey colour. The leaves are also of
a much darker and bluer green. The wood is soft and liable to crack
and decay, and is consequently of little commercial value; but, being
easy to split, it is largely used for roofing and for fuel. The cost
of firewood in Siberia per _sajen_, or seven-feet cube, is 3_s._,
as compared with 12_s._ in Petersburg, and from 20_s._ to 30_s._ at
Moscow. At Krasnoiarsk a log of building timber, 80 feet long, costs
from 20_d._ to 3_s._, whilst bricks cost from 16_s._ to 20_s._ per
1,000. The Scotch fir, with the upper trunk and branches almost of a
cinnamon yellow, is in many places very abundant.

The Siberian is proudest, however, of his cedar--a tree very similar in
appearance to the Scotch fir, but more regular in its growth--clothed
with branches nearer to the ground, and with an almost uniform grey
trunk. For furniture and indoor wood it is considered to be the best
timber in the country, and is said never to rot or shrink, warp or
crack. It is soft and easy to work, but has a fine grain, and is almost
free from knots. The Ostjaks use it for building their large boats.
They take a trunk two or three feet in diameter, split it, and of each
half make a wide, thin board. Having no proper saws, they are obliged
to cut the wood away with an axe, and thus the greater part of the tree
is wasted. The Russian peasant is still more prodigal with his timber,
for when I was going through the forest east of the Yenesei, a felled
cedar-tree was pointed out, and the remark made that it was quite usual
that a man who wanted nuts should cut down a fine tree for the sole
purpose of replenishing his bag with the nut-filled cones.

The birch is common up to the 70th parallel, and still further north,
on the tundra, in suitable localities, the creeping birch and two or
three sorts of willow may be met with. The alder is abundant, and the
juniper. The poplar is found as far north as Turukhansk. The Ostjaks
hollow their canoes from the trunks of this tree.

[6] In 1876 the number of steamers on the Yenesei was four, all
of which had paddle-wheels, and were used for tugging barges. The
steamers took no cargo on board, and some of the barges were arranged
like floating shops. These last leave Yeneseisk at the end of May,
and return from the lower part of the river at the end of September,
during which period the two largest steamers, with engines of 60 or
70-horse power, make two voyages, the smaller only one. Some of the
barges are of 250 tons burthen. Besides these steamers, there were two
sailing-boats of 50 tons burthen each, and a number of others from 6 to
20 tons. It should also be added that there are large pentagonal boats
or barges, constructed with huge timbers in the corn-growing districts
on the upper part of the river, whence they are towed down each by 15
or 20 men, and then, arrived at their destination, are broken up for
building or firewood. Such was the fleet of the Yenesei at the time of
the visit of M. Théel.

[7] Mr. Seebohm tells me that, as regards material comforts, this
village is far in advance of the ordinary Russian villages. He found
the land well cultivated and railed off, the cattle kept out by gates,
and there was a hospital for the sick. The houses were ventilated,
the joining work was good, and there were books. All intoxicants were
forbidden, and likewise tobacco and tea and coffee. Morally, in fact,
it was a model village and without crime. The inhabitants, however,
of whom there were more men than women, had a remarkable appearance.
They were all sallow; the men were beardless, with squeaky voices; and
no inhabitant was less than forty years of age. A “baby’s music” had
never been heard among them. They keep all the festivals of the Russian
Church, but have no priest. They say that every man is a priest, and
that he can perform priestly acts only for himself. They provided
Mr. Seebohm, as a guest, with both tea and butter, but the Scoptsi
themselves eat no animal food but fish, use no butter and drink no
milk. At least this was so originally; but here breaks forth a fact
that should be respectfully dedicated to all who suppose it within the
bounds of possibility to bring every one, or to keep every one, to the
same way of thinking. These people number less than a score, have no
one in the village not of their own persuasion, and yet they have split
into two sects, the difference being that one drinks milk and the other
does not. Originally some 700 or 800 were sent from the government
of Perm; but many on the Yenesei were dying, and they petitioned to
be removed elsewhere, and are now to be found with other Scoptsi in
large numbers in the province of Yakutsk. As to the relative salubrity
of these and other Siberian provinces, the only clue that I have is
that whereas in 1879 the death-rate in the government of Perm, whence
these people came, was 5·07 per cent., it was 4·13 in the province of
Tobolsk, 3·89 in that of Irkutsk, and 3·51 in the province of Yeneseisk.

[8] Dr. Latham observes that, if we take the principal populations
that are common to the Russian and Chinese Empires, we find them
to be the Turkish, Mongolian, and Tungusian races; the Turk on the
west, the Mongol in the middle, and the Tunguse on the east. The
Tunguse race begins, he says, north of Peking, and stretches through
Manchuria across the district of the Amur, and north-east and west
to the sea of Okhotsk and to the Yenesei. Of the Tunguse family the
Manchu is the most civilized, whilst in Siberia we have them in their
extreme character of rude nomads, unlettered, and still pagan, or but
imperfectly Christianized. The Tungusian approaches the Mongolian, the
Ostjak, or the Eskimo, according as his residence lies north or south;
within the limit of the growth of trees or beyond it, on the champaign,
the steppe, or the tundra. On the tundra the horse ceases to be his
domestic animal, and the reindeer or the dog replaces it. Hence we hear
of three divisions of the Tunguse family called by different names,
according as they possess horses, reindeer, or dogs.

[9] The horns of these animals are very fine. I was presented with a
pair in Archangel, measuring nearly four feet from the skull to the
extremities, which are a yard apart. The brow antlers are 13 inches
long, and the bes-antlers, or those next above, 16 and 18 inches
respectively, whilst the total measurement of antlers and branches is
upwards of 14 feet.

CHAPTER XIX.

_A VISIT TO A GOLD-MINE._

Gold in Siberia.--Where found.--Gold-hunting.--A
prospecting party.--Thawing the ground.--Subterranean
passages.--Hardships.--Mining calculations.--Building of
barracks.--Preparations for our visit.--Costumes.--Road through
the “forest primeval.”--Luxuriant vegetation.--Crossing
mountains.--Arrival at mine.--Labour of miners.--Gold-washing
machine.--Government inspection.--Wages.--Hours of
labour.--Miners’ food.--Pay-day.--Drink and its follies.--Miners’
fortunes.--Mines of Eastern Siberia.--Return to Krasnoiarsk.

Not many Englishmen, probably, would think of going to Siberia to
seek for _El-dorado_, the fabled land of gems and gold. Many tons of
precious metals, however, are found there yearly; and there are firms,
consisting of only two or three partners, that net an annual income
of more than half-a-million sterling. The Russian empire furnishes
an eighth part of the gold found yearly throughout the world, and
three-fourths of this quantity come from Siberia. It was at the
beginning of the century that gold-washing was commenced in the Urals,
and a period of great prosperity followed from 1825 to about 1850.
Since that time, the number of mines has increased, but the profits
are less, because, whilst the value of gold has diminished, the price
of labour has risen. The sources and affluents of the great Siberian
rivers are rich in gold. The districts on the west of Lake Baikal that
are most worked are those of Yeneseisk, Irkutsk, Kansk, Nijni-Udinsk,
and the sources of the Lena, which last are the richest.[1]

Accordingly, when we arrived at Krasnoiarsk, the large town of the
Yeneseisk gold-mining district, and made acquaintance with some of the
gold-seekers’ families, it appeared a good opportunity to visit one
of the mines, since they were called “near.” It was rather alarming,
however, to discover what were the Siberians’ notions of the word
_near_, for in that huge country 100 miles or more go for nothing--in
fact, are a mere trifle, and not too long to be travelled for the sake
of a ball or a festive gathering. The gold-seekers’ daughters even
sometimes go out to their fathers’ mines within this distance, and,
when they do so, stride their horses in top-boots and knickerbockers
to save their dresses being torn in the primeval forest, or, as it
is called, the _taiga_. When, therefore, I found that a pair of high
boots would be necessary, and that it would involve a long journey on
horseback, I rather hesitated. We had, however, been introduced to the
Director of the Krasnoiarsk Hospital, Dr. Peacock; and when it appeared
that not only he, but Mrs. Peacock also, would join the party, my
courage rose, and I determined to go.

But, before we start, let me try to give the reader some idea as to
the localities in which the gold is found, and how it is discovered.
In the mountainous districts of the forest countless brooks unite into
rivulets, which, in accordance with the character of the landscape,
have a strong fall, becoming very rapid in the spring, and still more
so in the summer, after the melting of the snow. The waters uproot
trees, undermine rocks, and sweep along earth, gold, and other metals
with resistless fury, till the lowlands are reached, where the stream,
having no longer the same force, allows the heavy gold to sink to
the bottom, to be covered, perhaps, next season with more gold, or,
perhaps, by earth and rubbish. It will be easy to understand, then, how
a layer of sand containing gold may be thus formed, and subsequently
covered over with beds of earth and stone.

The professional _tayoshnik_, or gold-hunter, has to discover these
auriferous layers; but this he cannot do alone.[2] There must be a
prospecting party made up, which may consist, say, of an overseer, a
leader, 8 workmen, 10 horses, 18 saddle-bags, provisions, and tools,
the whole of which may be estimated to cost £500, which amount has to
be risked, for the party may go out into the taiga and find nothing, or
what may prove worse than nothing.[3]

The tayoshnik knows, however, that the Siberian gold deposits are
almost always to be met with on the banks of streams, or in their
beds. Again, gold is often hidden in crevices of the earth that have
evidently once served as channels for running water. Moreover, he knows
that those rivers that wash up gold are always such as have their
sources in ravines, the rocks of which are very much weather-beaten.
Gold is rarely found at precipitous spots, and is most abundant where
the water ages ago had a calmer current, and consequently no longer
possessed the necessary strength to carry the heavy metal along.[4]

The hunter must, however, dig some depth beneath the surface, the
thickness of the beds of earth covering the gold varying from 2 to 20
feet, though it increases sometimes to 150 feet. At some spots three or
four gold deposits, or _plasts_, as they are called, lie one over the
other, separated by thick strata of earth and rocks, in which case the
lowest of the plasts is generally the richest.[5]

With knowledge of this kind, therefore, the gold-hunter proceeds till
he arrives at a valley along which he judges some ancient river ages
ago may have rolled down its golden sands. He then seeks in the bed
of the rivulet for pyrites, iron, slate-clay, or quartz with a thick
coat of crystals; and at length he forms a judgment as to whether or
not he is likely by digging to find a gold deposit. If his verdict be
favourable, then all hands are set to work to cut down trees and build
a rude log hut, in which the party may have to live for months. The
next business is to dig a number of holes or trenches at a distance
from each other, to get down to the auriferous layers--that is, if
there are any; for if there be none, their labour of course is lost,
and they have to try elsewhere. But if there be auriferous layers, it
is no easy matter to get to them, for gold-hunting is usually followed
in the winter, often with the thermometer many degrees below zero, and
when the ground is so hard as not to be pierced even by a pickaxe; they
have, therefore, to make huge bonfires, whereby the earth is softened,
so as to allow trenches of considerable depth to be dug. This manœuvre
has to be repeated until the longed-for gold is found, or unyielding
stone presents an impenetrable obstacle.[6]

These trenches or holes are made under the superintendence of the
overseer. Samples of the earth are constantly tried, and so guidance
is obtained as to the direction in which other work should be begun,
and some idea formed as to the depth and breadth of the beds of gold.
Often, however, the metal lies so far beneath the surface that it would
scarcely be possible to dig out all the trenches begun. In such cases
the wider ones are sunk into wells or shafts, and subterranean passages
are made.[7]

Thus the work of testing a locality may take some little time;
meanwhile the workmen and overseer live in their wretched hut, which
often is not well roofed, and heated only by a portable stove. The wind
whistles through the cracks of the moss-calked walls, an insupportable
heat reigns in the vicinity of the stove, while, on the opposite walls,
icicles gleam like brilliants, and melting snow falls from above. The
air is rendered poisonous by the exhalations of the inmates and the
vapour ascending from damp clothing hung near the fire to dry. In fact,
as the workmen say, the atmosphere is thick enough “to hang up an axe
in.” However, in the wilderness, even such a shelter is a longed-for
refuge when a fierce snowstorm is raging and the thermometer has sunk
to far below zero.

But the climate is not the only hardship the gold-hunter has to
encounter. His provisions consist of black rusks, dried meat, tea, and
a little brandy; and often he does not possess as much as could be
wished even of this meagre fare, for he is obliged to carry with it all
requisite tools and weapons on his beasts of burden, and communication
with civilized centres or depôts is usually difficult, and in spring
sometimes impossible. My interpreter told me he had an uncle, who was
a _tayoshnik_, who made an income of about £1,000 a year, but had
sometimes, for want of better food, to eat bear’s flesh.

But supposing the overseer to have discovered a promising spot, and to
have tested the earth from several holes, he can then strike an average
as to the amount of gold that may be got from every hundred poods--that
is, every 32 cwt., or say every ton and a half--of sand. If the amount
be five _zolotniks_,--say, ¾ oz., this is thought rich; if less than ⅛
oz. it is very poor; sometimes, however, ½ lb. of gold even is found to
100 poods of sand. The overseer has next to calculate whether it will
pay to work the mine.[8]

If, when all things are calculated, the land promises to pay, he
sticks up two posts, one on each end of the area he has chosen,
despatches a courier to his employer, and the place is registered at
once by the commissary of police or other competent authority from
the local Direction of Mines. The area is then thoroughly surveyed by
a Government surveyor, who makes a map of the spot, and, when all is
secured to the finder, the proprietor can at once borrow money on the
security of his mine, paying at the rate of from 20 to 30 per cent.,
according as money is scarce or plentiful. Many capitalists, content
with this interest, employ all their money in this way.[9]

The next thing is to build the necessary houses and barracks for the
future manager of the mine and his workmen, the number of which may
vary from 10 to 2,000. Provisions and fuel provided, then the digging
begins about the middle of February, and the washing about the 1st of
May, the operations being over on the 10th of September, or, if the
weather be unusually fine, on the 1st of November. When a mine has been
registered, it _must_ be worked to some extent, or it is forfeited to
the Crown. The owner, however, may sell it if he pleases, but it must
not remain idle.

It was to a mine that had been opened the same year that we were to
start from Krasnoiarsk. It was called the Archangel Gabriel mine, and
was situated on the river Slisneva, at a spot nearly 30 miles from the
Yenesei. Our worthy doctor arrayed himself for the occasion in the
costume of a Tyrolese hunter, with a double gun over his shoulders, a
revolver and bowie-knife in his belt, and a huntsman’s horn; for he
hoped, he said, that we might chance to meet with a bear--a hope that
I cannot say was shared by all the party. I know at least of one who
hoped we should _not_ meet with a bear. However, it was by no means
unlikely, and I accordingly armed Mr. Interpreter with our revolver.
Madame Peacock wore a black velvet hat, a magenta chemisette, a brown
tweed tunic, black knickerbockers, and top boots; and thus, with a
few provisions, we started in the afternoon to cross the Yenesei to
the village of Basaïka. The water was more than 20 feet higher than
it had risen for 30 years, the ferry had been washed away, and the
force of the stream carried down our boat a good mile ere we reached
the opposite bank; and then, after wading through a great deal of
mud and water, in doing which we learned to appreciate high boots,
we reached the village, and took refreshment before mounting our
steeds. We then advanced in single file from the village through the
cultivated bottom-land, and afterwards through much grass, that was
very like penetrating a forest of herbs, to which our horses took
kindly, for they had scarcely to stoop their heads to nibble their
fodder. Although the summer was young, there were to be seen the acacia
in blossom, currants, and raspberries; and among flowers, the bitter
vetch, the spiræa, anemones, Flora’s bell, high pæonies, aconite, or
wolf’s bane, and large dragon-mouths; also abundance of ferns, among
them one strongly resembling the _Osmunda regalis_, and the magnificent
_Struthiopteris germanica_, which attains to gigantic growth in
Siberia; and even the trunks of the trees and the granite rocks were
covered with a rich variety of lichens and verdant mosses.

Thus far, therefore, everything was going well. The evening was
delightful, and all were in excellent spirits. Soon, however, our guide
turned into the forest, and we had before us the first of two mountains
over whose backs we were to climb, thinking to reach our destination
by nightfall. At this point we began to get some idea of what is meant
by “the forest primeval,” for sometimes the way was all but impassable
by reason of masses of shattered-down dry wood; now our horses stepped
over fallen trees, and now waded knee-deep up the beds of rivulets;
in some places we met with snow-white skeletons of dead trees with
branching arms; in others the way, indicated by notches on the trees,
had been cut with an axe.

As we mounted higher and higher, we had before us a fine, bold, rocky
mountain, lit up with the sinking sun. My companions called to me to
look back, and we had a splendid view of the noble Yenesei at sunset,
of its verdant bottom-lands on either side, its impetuous stream, and
magnificent forests.

We then prepared for our first descent. But it became dusk, and the
overshadowing trees made our difficulty the greater. My horse, however,
seemed to know so well what he was about, that I was minded to keep
my seat and hope for the best. But when all my companions, including
Madame and the guide, had dismounted, and advised me to do the same if
I valued my neck, I followed suit till the valley was reached. We then
remounted for a short distance, by which time it was quite dark, and
for a short space some of the party were lost to the others. All came
right, however, towards midnight, when we saw afar off the glimmering
of a candle. This we hailed with a lusty blast of the doctor’s horn,
thinking to awake the inhabitants. Our coming had not been expected,
but letters from the owners of the mine secured us attention, and such
hospitality as the place afforded. “Let us have the samovar,” said the
doctor; “and bring a good large one, please, for we shall empty it.”

And he was true to his word; for although they brought a twenty-glass
samovar, it went out empty. Russians, however, be it remembered, think
nothing of drinking from eight to a dozen glasses of tea, and we were
in need of refreshment!

Then came the question of sleep. They had but one room to offer us.
Madame, therefore, lay on what might be called by courtesy a sofa. The
bedstead was politely given to me, and the doctor and interpreter lay
on the floor. Thus we managed to rest till about five in the morning,
when we were called. Our toilets had to be speedily arranged, and our
faces washed with a handful or two of water outside the door, for there
was no sort of washing apparatus to be seen. After some tea and rusks,
we started to witness the working of the gold-mine.

I had seen the Swedish iron-mines of Dannemora, and had gone down a
copper-mine in the Urals; but the gold-mine was something new. There
was no underground work going on, and no digging of holes and sending
up the earth to be washed; but the whole surface had been laid bare.
Hence the work resembled that of English navvies making a cutting.
There were a number of small carts drawn by Siberian horses, and men
with pickaxes and shovels filling them. When full, the carts were drawn
up an incline to a platform, and emptied into one end of a large iron
cylinder, resembling a coffee-roaster, with holes all round it. This
was made to rotate by water-power, and the large stones and pebbles
were, by the formation and turning of the cylinder, tumbled out at
the end. Here they were duly watched, so that no nuggets should be
overlooked. At the same time several streams of water were poured into
the cylinder, and the earth and small pebbles, passing through the
holes, fell into a long wooden apron, inclined at an angle of 35°, with
moveable boxes or “pockets.”

In order that we might see how the gold was washed, the manager caused
some of these pockets to be emptied on to an inclined plane of clean
wood, raised at either side, and over which ran equably and slowly a
stream of clear water. One of the pockets (called _dundofka_) was then
emptied on the higher part of the plane, and the water soon washed away
the mud, the man who performed the washing having a wooden scraper,
like that of a scavenger, with which he pushed back the descending
grains of gold. This was repeated till six poods, or say 200 lbs., of
washed earth had been placed on the board. After the mud and sand had
been allowed to roll away, a brush was used instead of the scraper, and
there remained behind perhaps a small teaspoonful of gold-dust, or as
much as was roughly valued at from 40_s._ to 50_s._ The gold was then
placed in a miniature frying-pan, and held over a small fire to dry,
after which it was put into what resembled a “poor-box.” This was done
in the presence of a Government official, of whom there is always one
at every mine, and who is usually a Cossack officer.[10]

The gold thus gained is eventually poured into bags of coarse linen,
which, after having been stamped with the brand of the mine, are sewn
in leather sacks[11] and taken to Irkutsk or Barnaul, where it is
assayed; and afterwards there is deducted the tax of from 5 to 10 per
cent., according to the quantity. Gold assignats are given in exchange,
payable in six months, or they may be cashed at the Government bank at
a discount of 7 per cent. per annum. Thus all the gold found in the
country is claimed by the Government, and it is unlawful for any person
to have gold-dust in his possession unknown to the authorities.

After we had seen the manner of washing the gold we walked into
the barracks, the hospital, stables, and the houses for the 200 or
300 workmen. I have spoken of the hardships that are endured by a
prospecting party. Yet, despite all their privations and dangers, there
is never a lack of persons who volunteer their services to wealthy
projectors, for they receive large wages. The overseer who discovers
the mine generally stipulates that he shall receive from 1 to 5 per
cent. on the yield; and the percentage given to some of the others on
a lucky find is very liberal. The ordinary labourers, too, such as
we saw, are well paid. Among them, of course, is a great variety of
races and people. There meet at the mines the nobleman and the Siberian
peasant; the former officer of the army and the pardoned convict; the
Pole, the German, the Tatar, and numberless others, who work in common,
now freezing in the icy blasts of winter, and now scorching in the heat
of the summer sun. They work intensely hard (sometimes from 3 a.m. to
7 p.m.), and observe no Sundays or saints’ days, excepting that of the
patron saint of the mine. But in most cases they have wholesome food,
warm quarters, and attention in sickness.

Some of them, however, run away. It happens occasionally that a man
may have secreted gold, with which he gets off as early as possible;
and some, not reckoning aright the difficulties of travelling so far
alone, have been found starved, the useless gold clutched in the grasp
of lifeless fingers. We found some attention paid to what might be
called the fanaticism of the Mohammedan workmen; the Tatars being
placed alone, and convenience being afforded them to cook their food
in their own way. A separate barrack, too, was assigned to married
men with their wives. Over an outdoor fire hung a large caldron, big
enough to boil a donkey--the largest I had ever seen. This, I presumed,
was for cooking the meat; and in the bake-house we saw abundance
of rye bread, of which some of the men eat 7 lbs. in a day. Their
beverages are tea and quass. It is forbidden by law to sell spirituous
liquors at the mines. Only the managers have the right to keep them in
their possession, though this sensible regulation is often evaded by
contrabandists.

When the 10th of September arrives, and the workmen receive their pay,
they break forth into the wildest excesses. Before leaving the mine,
each labourer gets a ticket, setting forth what he is to receive, which
may vary from £20 to £50. This ticket he has to present some miles
away at his employer’s office, and there, awaiting him outside, are
merchants and dealers, who manage soon to empty his pockets. He too
frequently begins by drinking; and then the man who has toiled harder
than a slave for months is often at a loss to know upon what objects
and follies to lavish his money.

Captain Wiggins says that he never witnessed among the Siberian miners,
such scenes of depravity and disorder as may be witnessed among the
Australian and Californian miners, or even, at times, in the low
streets of English seaport towns. Another Englishman, however, has told
me a different story, to the effect that one miner, for instance, will
take a common woman and clothe her in satin and velvet, and then, a
week after, when money is gone, will tear the clothes from her back to
raise capital for drink. Another, of a vain turn of mind, buys bottles
of champagne, and sticks them up in a row to throw stones at; a third
will buy a piece of printed cotton, or other material, lay it down in
the dirty road, and, to indulge his aristocratic tread, will walk on
it; whilst a fourth, despising to be drawn by horses, will yoke to his
_telega_ his fellow-fools who have spent their money, and so be drawn
by human beings. The end of this, of course, is that their money is
speedily gone; and now comes the opportunity of the masters for the
following year, since they know that they shall want the men again,
and labour is scarce. Employers, therefore, advance them money, and
the poor sots start off to walk, perhaps, 500 miles to their homes or
friends, where, having arrived, they must needs return in a few months
to begin the labours of another season.

The managers of mines, some of whom make £1,000 a year, congregate in
the winter in the towns, where much drinking and card-playing goes on.
If capitalists are fortunate, they can make and keep large fortunes.
Two gold-seekers in Krasnoiarsk are reputed to have found, in about 10
years, 1,000 poods of gold, of the value, say, of £2,000,000 sterling.
We dined at the house of one of these men.[12]

But to return to the Archangel Gabriel mine. After we had looked at
the buildings, and seen what else there was of interest, we returned
to a breakfast of beefsteaks, left some books for the workmen, and
then, mounting our steeds, returned towards Krasnoiarsk; and, seeing
that four persons similarly attired might not meet again for awhile,
I proposed that, on reaching the town, we should be photographed in a
group. This was done; and so ended one of the pleasantest _détours_ of
our journey.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] East of Lake Baikal are many mines on various rivers, such as
the Nertcha, the Ingoda, and the Onon. Another famous river is the
Olekma; whilst the Amur produces so much of the precious metal that
the yield of some of its valleys is fabulous. I heard, near Albazin,
concerning the Upper Amur Gold-mining Company, that for the past ten
years they had washed 150 poods of gold annually, which, reckoned at
£2,000 a pood--its price during the year of my visit--gives a product
of £3,000,000. Also on the Vitim, during the summer of 1878, from 300
to 400 poods, I was told, had been extracted, which represent from
£600,000 to £800,000 sterling.

[2] Any one, indeed, may go into the uninhabited _taiga_ to seek for
gold (as the hunter may penetrate the same dismal region in search
of game), provided, that is, he have a certificate from the mining
officers, which he may get by giving proofs of good citizenship from
the local authorities among whom he resides. He is then at liberty,
when he has found gold, to hire the land from the Government for the
purposes of mining.

[3] A party of this kind will go where, perhaps, the foot of man has
never trodden. Fortunate is the _tayoshnik_ if he have by his side a
faithful native who can direct; otherwise he throws himself into a
labyrinth of small valleys and hills, intersected in all directions by
rushing mountain streams. He has no path to guide him save the course
of the rivers, often no compass save the sun, and in this manner he
travels--mounted, perhaps, on a small Siberian pony, or, in the far
north, on the back of a reindeer. In situations where it is impossible
for him to make use of small sledges drawn by reindeer on the frozen
rivers, he has to run on snow-shoes, everywhere encountering hardship
and dangers, with certain death in store for him should he lose his way.

[4] Large rivers hardly ever carry gold with them, and when in
exceptional cases they do, the treasure cannot be recovered, since to
turn the water from its channel would be too great an expense. The
shape of the gold grains gives some idea of its previous history and
travels. Are the particles flat and thin? Then they have been dragged
over sand and rocks. Are they round like grains? Then they have been in
some whirlpool, participants in a mad circling dance. Or, once more,
are they fine dust particles, with here and there a larger piece, or
with various minerals attached--particularly quartz, their original
home? Then in this last shape the gold has probably had a comfortable
and quiet journey.

[5] The _plasts_ vary from 3 inches to 15 feet, and their composition
varies considerably. Blue clay, coarse sand, quartz, clay-slate,
limestone, granite, and syenite occur frequently, as well as iron in
the most various combinations; and, more rarely, ferruginous red clay.
This last is very tough, and in the rainy season causes the workmen no
little difficulty. In return, however, it contains a good deal of gold.
In the district of the Olekma the gold deposit rests on a bed of firm
rock.

[6] In many localities it is in the cold season only that the trenches
can be dug with advantage. In summer they would be quickly flooded.
Even in the winter the water must be fought against, and there are some
places where the earth is dug out from under frozen rivers.

[7] These are the beginning of the so-called gold-_mines_. The
subterranean work, which is carried on principally during the winter
months, does not differ much from the ordinary work of the miner.
Poisonous vapours do not usually occur, but, when cutting through
clay-slate, the presence of sulphate of cobalt has sometimes an
injurious effect. The passages are nine feet wide and high, and two
labourers generally work from two to three tons of sand per day. The
sand thus accumulated during the winter is thrown up into heaps and
washed in the summer.

[8] He must reckon the quantity of earth and rubbish to be removed
before he gets to the gold sand, also the number of labourers necessary
to be brought to the place, and food to keep them; and, further, he
must consider what will be the summer level of the stream on which his
claim lies, because without the proper supply of water the machinery
cannot be set in motion, and to put up an artificial water conduit
would be too expensive.

[9] An area consists of a piece of land about 3½ miles long, the
breadth being determined by the distance between the two mountains in
which the gold-seam lies. This is generally from 500 to 1,000 feet. No
one can occupy more than three consecutive miles; but a wife, a friend,
or partner, having a certificate, may take the adjoining three miles,
and then the three miles below may be taken, and so on to any extent.

[10] It is his duty to supervise the washing of the gold, which is
placed in a coffer, locked by the proprietor, and sealed by the
Government agent, the quantity of gold washed at each operation being
entered in a register. If they find a quarter of an ounce of gold to a
ton and a half of sand, then 200 men can wash from four to five pounds
of gold a day. I heard, however, of a mine to the south of Yeneseisk,
where they usually found from 15 to 20 lbs., and sometimes even up to
36 lbs. a day. Gold thus found is not always pure, but is frequently
mixed with magnetic iron, which is drawn off by a magnet. Nor is the
metal all of the same colour. In some places it is found very dark, and
often still covered by a crust of oxide of iron; in other places it is
of a very light colour, and contains silver.

[11] Each bag contains about 50 lbs. of gold. Two of these, further
protected by a covering of thick felt, constitute the load for one
horse. To the two bags are fastened a long cord and a piece of dry
wood, so that, in the event of the horses’ burdens being washed away
while crossing a swollen river, the floating wood would indicate the
whereabouts of the sunken treasure. In the middle of June, or at the
end of the season, the departure of loads of gold from the mine is
accompanied with pistol-firing and the booming of cannon, and cheers
and blessings bid the caravan _bon voyage_.

[12] There are, or were, some rich gold-mine proprietors at Kiakhta.
One firm there, consisting of three partners, washed in one year enough
gold to give a net profit of £600,000; they expected the year after to
make £1,000,000; and the Government surveyor calculated that at that
rate the mine would last 50 years. Thus many fortunes are realized in
Siberia; but hardly a month passes without chronicling some one’s ruin,
which may often be attributed to the fast life and gaming propensities
of the miners. Hence, although between the years 1833 and 1870 about
30,000 poods of gold were sent out of Eastern Siberia alone, to the
value of £50,000,000, the finding of which gave employment in some
years to upwards of 30,000 workmen, yet it will be seen from the
foregoing that this great wealth has not proved an unmixed blessing,
for the discovery of a gold-mine never brings to it a population
permanently thriving and industrious.

CHAPTER XX.

_FROM KRASNOIARSK TO ALEXANDREFFSKY._

Situation of Krasnoiarsk.--Our hotel.--Dr. Peacock.--Visit to
prison, hospital, and madhouse.--Cathedral.--Drive in “Rotten
Row.”--Shoeing horses.--Bible affairs at Krasnoiarsk.--Consignment
to Governor for provinces of Yeneseisk and Yakutsk.--Departure
from Krasnoiarsk.--Change of scenery.--Kansk _Okrug_.--Our
arrival anticipated.--Visit to Ispravnik.--Statistics of
crime.--The Protopope of Kansk.--Parochial information.--Demand
for Scriptures.--A travelling companion.--Further posting
help.--Butterflies and mosquitoes.--Nijni Udinsk.--Telma
factory.--A _détour_.--Alexandreffsky.

Siberia, immense as it is, has only 17 towns with a population of more
than 5,000 inhabitants, and of these large towns Krasnoiarsk, with a
population of 13,000, is a fair specimen. It derives its name from
the Russian words _krasnoi_, red, and _yar_, a cliff, in allusion to
the red-coloured marl of the banks on which the town is situated;
its houses being built on the tongue of land at the confluence of
the Yenesei and the Kacha. On the south the plain stretches away for
nine versts, and on the south-west a range of blue hills is descried,
which betray their rocky character by sharp and picturesque outlines.
The opposite bank, too, of the Yenesei has, amidst forest scenery,
some fine rocks, one of which, of curious formation, called the
Tokmak, rises to the dignity of a mount. The Siberians, therefore, are
justified, to a considerable degree, in claiming for Krasnoiarsk that
it is picturesquely situated. It was certainly the prettiest spot we
had thus far seen; and since we made there some pleasant acquaintances,
and received much kindness from the people, it naturally lingers in the
memory as one of the bright spots of our journey.[1]

Having arrived early on the morning of the 24th June, we drove to what
is called an hotel, kept by one “Shlyaktin,” where we engaged the best
room in the house for two shillings a day, with two bedsteads, for
which, as usual in Russia, we provided our own pillows and linen. Other
things were proportionately cheap: turkeys 3_s._ a pair; a whole calf,
nine months old, from 3_s._ to 4_s._; geese from 1_s._ 8_d._ to 2_s._
6_d._ a couple; but pheasants, brought hundreds of miles from Tashkend,
cost 6_s._ a brace.

We had not entered many minutes before several beggars came to the
window to solicit alms, which seemed to be their method of honouring
all newcomers; and if they received anything they crossed themselves,
and no doubt blessed us.[2]

Krasnoiarsk boasts of a Lutheran chapel, though it is without a
resident pastor. We made it our business to go there first, thinking
to find a catechist, Mr. Adamson, for whom we had a letter. He was
away, however, and was represented by an old German woman. Whether she
recognized in us kindred spirits, I know not, but she cried as she
shook our hands and bade us God-speed.

We then accompanied Dr. Peacock, who took us first to see the
prison,[3] and afterwards the large hospital, through which pass
annually about 2,500 patients. A part of it serves as a madhouse, in
which were 48 inmates, 42 of whom were exiles, 28 being pronounced
incurable. From inquiries I made, I did not gather that medical opinion
went so far as to say that banishment drove people mad; but it seemed
that many so afflicted were exiled as prisoners who ought rather to
have been in lunatic asylums as idiots; such, for instance, was the
case of one man who had been sent to Siberia for setting houses on
fire, and who, on arriving, repeated his offence, saying that he did it
“for fun.”[4]

The hospital building had been originally erected as a private
residence by a rich gold-seeker.[5] How far, in its altered condition,
the house suits the purpose of a hospital, I could not judge; for in
Russia they have a habit, in summer, of turning the patients out under
temporary sheds and tents whilst the buildings are being repaired for
the winter; and this was the state of affairs at Krasnoiarsk during
our inspection. But I am afraid the building is not all that could be
desired. At Tomsk we had seen a summer tent-hospital for 20 men with
typhus fever.

Krasnoiarsk has a cathedral, presided over by the Bishop of Yeneseisk,
and four or five churches, one of which was built at a cost of £70,000
by a rich gold-seeker, by name, I think, Kusnitzoff, which, be it known
to English readers, means “Smith.” We made the acquaintance of two of
his daughters during our voyage on the Obi. They had been spending the
winter in Petersburg, and were then travelling a distance of 3,000
miles to spend the summer in Siberia. This was their usual practice.
One of these ladies had travelled to England, had even crossed the
Atlantic to America, and we were glad to renew our acquaintance at
Krasnoiarsk. Theirs was one of the best of the private houses, on
entering which a broad flight of steps led to the upper storey, where
was a drawing-room, or rather a ball-room, containing two grand
pianos, the walls being hung with European oil-paintings, and where,
among other curiosities, we were shown three nuggets of gold, each of
which must have weighed several pounds, but serving no purpose but to
be looked at, save that a natural indentation in one had been used on
certain grand occasions as a cigar-boat. In front of the house was an
enclosure, full of shrubs, dahlias, and flowers; but it was manifest
that horticultural operations were carried on with difficulty. The
Siberians do more with flowers in their rooms, thus adding much to
their beauty.

We dined at this house, and afterwards were taken for a drive. The
plain running south of the town is the “Rotten Row” of Krasnoiarsk;
and here we saw a fair Amazon, of good position, and the mother,
by-the-bye, of three children, with hair cut short behind, sitting
astride her horse, in knickerbockers and high boots. It was the only
instance we saw of this, however; and further east, on the Amur, I met
with a lady in a riding-habit that would have been becoming enough even
in Hyde Park.

We drove some distance up the bank of the Yenesei, intending to visit a
monastery a few miles distant, but were stopped by the unusual height
of the floods, and returned to pass through the two handsome squares
in the middle of the town, and the smaller streets which cross the
principal roads at right angles. We passed a public garden, also given
by Mr. Kusnitzoff to the town. We walked there in the evening, leaving
the carriages at the gates, as did several fashionables, and found
inside a place for refreshments, rooms for cards, and a promenade. As
we strolled about among the trees and shrubs I asked how long they
had been there, and found they were self-planted, and that the garden
was an adaptation from nature. Close at hand were blacksmiths’ forges,
where they were shoeing horses in a curious manner.[6]

Before leaving our lady friends, their hospitality took a very
practical turn, as Siberian hospitality generally does, for they gave
us some excellent fresh butter and a jar of marmalade. Both these were
of great value, and I was particularly thankful to get the latter.
In order to prevent the possibility of being reduced to black bread
between Krasnoiarsk and Irkutsk, we ordered to be baked a pile, three
feet high, of large, flat, white loaves, with a little butter added to
prevent their getting dry; and these lasted us for 600 miles.

I was anxious to open at Krasnoiarsk a depôt or an agency for the sale
of the Scriptures, and, with that intent, presented an introduction
at the shop of one of the principal tradesmen. We found a large store
full of all manner of wares, among which, however, it was difficult to
see anything small that was particularly Siberian, though I bought a
string of beads, worn round the neck by Russian peasant girls, called
a _gaitan_. Unfortunately the merchant was away, and I could not hear
of another house of business suitable for what I wanted. Dr. Peacock,
however, seemed to feel so strongly the importance of making the most
of an opportunity to get the Scriptures circulated in the neighbourhood
that he purchased 250 copies, intending to dispense them far and near.
I gave him also a supply of reading matter for his hospital patients.[7]

Having thus spent four agreeable days at the capital of the Yeneseisk
province, we left on the evening of the 27th June, with a journey
before us of 600 miles to Irkutsk.[8] We met with an early adventure on
reaching the opposite bank of the river; for we had omitted to get a
special note from the post-master, without which the post-boys, waiting
with their horses, would not take us on. Mr. Interpreter, therefore, at
a cost of 8_s._, and not without danger, had to spend half the night in
recrossing the river and returning, whilst I “camped out” alone in the
tarantass on the river’s bank. I was so stiff and tired, however, with
the previous night’s journey to the gold-mine, that I slept soundly
till, at early dawn, horses were procured, and we jogged onwards.

We had now entered a land of valleys and hills instead of a country of
marshes or plains, and the scenery improved vastly. Not so, however,
the roadside fare; for milk was less abundant, and consequently we
could not so easily get curds or such diet, nor even milk to drink. But
we were so anxious to get forward that we became somewhat impatient
of the long time spent in heating the _samovar_ and preparing for a
meal. The consequence was that if, on arriving at a station, horses
were to be had at once, we did as best we could about food, eating in
the tarantass as we went along, and sometimes not having more than one
“square meal” a day.

For a time we travelled well. We continued to go up and down hills,
some of which we estimated at about 500 feet in height; and though
there was usually a sufficiency of horses, yet for the first two stages
they failed us. We paid a little more than post fares, and hired
private steeds instead. The peasants sometimes took advantage of the
occasion, when post-horses failed, to ask double fares; but as this
exorbitant demand amounted to only about 2_d._ a mile for each horse,
it seemed better to do this for a stage than to be detained, perhaps
for several hours, and then to get tired animals.

Having left Krasnoiarsk late on Friday night, we reached Kansk
in good time on Sunday morning, where we spent the rest of the
day, considerably fatigued with the combined effect of the recent
horse-riding, tarantass driving, and insufficient rest and food. Kansk
is the chief town of an _okrug_, or district, and the residence of
an intelligent _Ispravnik_; and, as it possessed a small prison and
hospital, we washed, dressed in our “Sunday best,” and called upon this
dignitary to present our letters. He told us, to our surprise, that he
had received a telegram the day before from the acting Governor-General
of Irkutsk, directing him to help us forward as much as possible;
and consequently he had sent east and west to all the stations in his
district--a distance of nearly 200 miles--telling them to let us have
horses quickly. We were rather at a loss to account for such unexpected
kindness, and the more so as the Ispravnik thought the instructions had
originally been sent from Petersburg. It served, however, to remind
us that we were not lost sight of at head-quarters. The Ispravnik
accompanied us to the prison, in which were 146 prisoners in 29
rooms, which had a Sunday look about them. Things were brushed up and
“settled,” as a housekeeper would say, and we distributed papers to
the prisoners to read. We also gave the Ispravnik some copies of the
New Testament and other reading material for the prison, for the town
hospital, and for the schools of the neighbourhood; after which he
invited us to his house to drink tea.

His wife was a German, which accounted for certain foreign tastes
visible about the room, and for some of the pictures. We learned that
the Ispravnik holds a similar position in his district or _okrug_, or
circle, that a Governor does in his province,--the pay of an Ispravnik
being from £100 to £150 per annum; that of a Governor from £600 to
£1,000 per annum; and of a Governor-General about £3,000, the latter
two having also furnished houses. The _okrug_ of Kansk was 200 miles
in diameter, and had a population of 40,000, with upwards of 900 miles
of roads. These were kept in order by 9,000 men, each of whom was
responsible for 90 fathoms of way; and it is only fair to say that we
found the roads of Yeneseisk the best in Siberia. Nearly all the crime
in the district, we were told, is traceable to drink; and that which
ended in murder commonly arose from love affairs.[9]

Prisoners of all sorts were allowed to hold correspondence with their
friends; but the prison chief, or the Ispravnik, might object to any
part of what was written, and send it back to the writer, though even
then the latter might appeal to the Governor-General. Letters usually
came, we found, by every post, so that the prisoners evidently availed
themselves to a considerable extent of their privilege.

After leaving the Ispravnik, we called on the Protopope, or head
priest of the place. His house had a superior look about it, and so
had the Protopope himself. He gave us a hearty reception, and we asked
a few questions concerning his parish. It appeared that he had 2,000
parishioners, living in Kansk and four surrounding villages. He thought
about 100 could read, and for these he very readily accepted papers
and tracts. He had an elementary boys’ school, which was supported
by the community, the scholars paying nothing. I asked about his
congregations, and found that from 300 to 400 usually came to church
on Sundays, but that on festivals the number rose to 1,000 or 1,500,
and of these about 300 or 400 in the course of the year received the
Communion.[10]

This chief pastor of the place told us he had often bestowed books on
the prisoners, but that the books had disappeared. He gave us some idea
of the desire there is for the Scriptures in remote parts of Siberia,
by saying that on one occasion he bought 200 New Testaments and took
them to Minusinsk, where he sold them in a single day at a rouble
each.[11]

In further illustration of the demand for Scriptures in this part of
the country, I may mention that, on the way from Tomsk, I made it a
practice to go into the post-stations; and whilst my companion was
arranging about the horses, I took some pamphlets and Scriptures,
and, having nailed up an illustration of the “Prodigal Son,” I next
distributed some tracts, saying, as I did so, “_darom_,” which means
“gratis”; and then, showing a New Testament, I said “_dvatzat-piat
kopeck_,” which means 25 kopecks; or I showed a copy of the Gospels,
and said “_dve-natzat kopeck_,” or 12 kopecks. Usually this offer was
jumped at; sometimes three or four were bought by one person; and it
not unfrequently happened that the first purchaser would run off to
tell others of his good fortune, and bid them lose no time in following
his example. This was usually done whilst the horses were being
changed; but if we stopped for a meal, and it was noised abroad in the
village that tracts were being given away, we were taken by storm, and
sometimes could hardly eat in peace for the numbers who came to ask for
our gifts.

We had barely reached the post-station, after seeing the priest, before
he came driving close on our heels for his return visit. He wore the
violet velvet hat of a protopope, was dressed in a black silk cassock,
with a gold chain and crucifix about his neck, and with a loose white
overcoat to protect him from the dust of the road. He cordially wished
us success in our work, and asked us to call again on our homeward
journey. We then went to the evening service in his church, after
which the Ispravnik and his wife came to return our call, bringing with
them their son, a boy of 13 years of age, who was to go to a military
school at Irkutsk. The father said that he did not like to send him
with just any one, but that he should be thankful to be allowed to
place the boy under my care, offering at the same time to pay the cost
of one horse to Irkutsk, which amounted to 25 roubles.

It is a common thing in Siberian travel, when one person does not
wish to occupy the whole of his vehicle, to share the expense with
a fellow-passenger. I therefore consented, and stowed the boy away
among the tracts and books in the second tarantass, where he seemed
happy enough. His joining us was rather a help, for his father gave
us an open letter to all the post-masters of his district, requesting
them, if there were not a sufficiency of post-horses, to hire some
immediately from the peasants. He also added a _blanco_ letter,
which enabled us, in case of need, to take those reserved at the
post-stations for the use of the Ispravnik or his police. This is
called, I believe, “_Zemski_” post, applying only to Siberia, and
the horses of which, when not wanted, are sometimes lent to private
travellers.

The combined result of these letters was that we got on famously,
and occasionally made 200 versts in the 24 hours. This for summer
travelling is good--so good, in fact, that we hardly wished to do
better, as it had now become very hot, and the dust of the way rendered
the journey very fatiguing.

We were still passing through an undulating country, with delightful
weather; on either side of the way grass, and in it grew a large yellow
flower, similar in form to our common white garden lily. On passing
the frontier from the Yeneseisk to the Irkutsk governments, it soon
became apparent that our new roads were not so good as those we had
left behind. We crossed many rivers, on the banks of one of which we
drove through an extraordinary swarm of white butterflies. The shrubs
in the neighbourhood were evidently eaten bare by their _larvæ_, the
_imagines_, or perfect insects, being assembled in troops on the
ground. We were now drawing near a district famous for a small kind of
mosquito, the bite of which is very virulent, and is so dreaded by the
people that the men working at the roadside protect themselves about
the head with horsehair veils. Another place in Siberia famous for
these insects is the Barabinsky steppe, where horses persecuted by them
sometimes break loose, and do so to certain death. We, however, were
not incommoded by them.

On the 1st of July the weather was hotter than we had hitherto
experienced it, and very oppressive, though at night it became chilly.
The greatest heat registered in the province of Irkutsk in 1877 was
during the month of August, when it rose to 90·3, the greatest cold
registered being in January, and descending to 40·2 below zero.

On the second day after leaving Kansk we were somewhat hindered by a
superabundance of fellow-travellers, with whom it was very pleasant to
chat over a cup of tea in the post-house, though matters were not quite
so smooth when it was discovered that less than the required number
of horses were forthcoming, and the question arose as to who should
be first served. At one station we had to stay five hours, yet it is
only fair to add that, thanks to our excellent recommendations, this
was the longest delay of the kind that fell to our lot. Travellers are
sometimes obliged to wait a whole day.

On the evening of the same day, at dusk, we reached Nijni Udinsk, and,
as there was a small prison in the place, I was anxious to give a few
books to the Ispravnik, and pass on without stopping; the latter,
however, was away, so we went to his assistant. After knocking pretty
lustily at his door, a servant appeared, who informed us that his
master was asleep; and to awaken a man out of sleep is in Russia no
venial sin. An Anglo-Russian friend informs me that she has frequently
been told, on asking for a servant, that he was asleep, and could not
be waked, because _a sleeping man’s soul is before his God_! We told
this servant, however, that we had a letter from Petersburg; and before
we left the town a messenger came to the post-house, giving me the
particulars I desired, and took back a sufficiency of books for the 98
prisoners under detention.

We then started off about midnight, and on the afternoon of the
following day reached a station called Telma, which in previous years
has been famous as possessing a factory in which cloth, paper, glass,
and soap were made, besides which they produced rough linen woven from
Yeneseisk hemp, and dark unbleached cloth, spun from the wool of the
Buriat sheep. The peasants generally make a rough cloth of this last
material. Manufactures do not flourish in Siberia, as the raw material
is grown at enormous distances from the establishments, and, when
manufactured, must often be taken enormous distances to be sold; so
it is found cheaper to buy the goods imported from other countries.
A suit of tweed clothes costs, I heard, £6 at Krasnoiarsk, and on the
Amur I met with a gentleman ordering his clothes from Petersburg, and
having them sent by post to Blagovestchensk, a distance of 5,000 miles.
The factory at Telma is still standing, and is not absolutely idle, but
I gathered that it is not in a flourishing condition.[12]

We were now only about 50 versts from Irkutsk, which, under ordinary
circumstances, we ought to have reached late the same night. Another
project had, however, entered into my mind. About 70 versts north
of Irkutsk is the largest prison in Eastern Siberia, called the
Alexandreffsky Central Prison, the normal way of visiting which would
have been for us to proceed to Irkutsk, present our letters, and so
drive out and return, making a journey of 90 miles. Hearing at Telma
that we could reach the place from thence in two hours by going across
country, spend two hours inspecting the prison, and another two hours
in returning to Telma, I calculated we should get back to the main
road about midnight, and so reach Irkutsk on Saturday afternoon, and
be ready for a quiet Sunday. The first difficulty in the way was that
the law permitted no post-horses to be employed off the high-roads;
but, thanks to the obliging post-master at Telma, this obstacle was
overcome by his providing others, and I determined accordingly to try
and save time by taking the prison on my way. How much was involved in
that decision I little thought at the moment, but it proved afterwards
highly important.

The first object of interest we passed was a large salt-factory, which,
like that at Telma, had in years gone by been worked by convicts
under the management of the State. This kind of labour is no longer
enforced there, and free workmen are employed instead. These were the
only salt-works we heard of in Siberia, but we were told of some about
40 miles from Orenburg, in the Urals. Leaving the factory behind, we
struck off through the woods, and were enjoying the drive thoroughly
when it occurred to our _yemstchik_ that he had taken the wrong
direction. Accordingly, he went a long way back, but had to retrace his
steps. This caused considerable delay, as did the crossing of the river
Angara. At length, through a forest of pine, we reached the summit of
a hill, and were able to take in at a glance the surroundings of the
large prison, which we reached at dusk. On the road we met some Polish
ladies, wives of officials, to whom I explained in French our object in
coming. The Director, however, was gone to Irkutsk, and his deputy said
it was too late that night, but that we might inspect the prison as
early as we chose in the morning. I therefore named the hour of seven,
and went to the post-house to sleep.

The keepers of the post-house in this out-of-the-way place appeared
somewhat perturbed at the arrival of visitors who wished to spend the
night under their roof. However, in this matter Siberian post-masters
have no choice, for they are bound to find accommodation for
travellers, and may not charge them for it; their profits are the small
sums paid for the use of the _samovar_, and for such refreshments as
may be provided. Our quarters were better and more comfortable than
usual, as also was our supper, and we lay down for a quiet night. Early
in the morning the officer in charge of the prison came to say that
when he had made us the promise on the previous evening he had intended
to telegraph to Irkutsk for permission, but that there was a fire in
Irkutsk, and telegraphic communication was stopped. He must therefore
ask us to wait until the return of the chief, who was expected hourly.
Accordingly, on his arrival we were conducted to the house of the
Director; and though he had been travelling all night he received us at
once, accorded us a hearty reception, and introduced us to his wife and
friends. He was a Pole--by name Pavolo Schwekofsky--and his house was
elegantly furnished, all his servants, however, being convicts. There
was an appearance of comfort, not to say of luxury, about the place;
and he had in a side room a turning-lathe and English tools. To this
we called attention. “Ah, yes,” said he, “we could not do without the
English.” And then, after drinking a glass of tea, we started to see
the prison.

[Illustration: THE ALEXANDREFFSKY CENTRAL PRISON NEAR IRKUTSK.]

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Owing to the formation of the hills about the town, Krasnoiarsk is
more than ordinarily favoured with abundance of wind, which in winter
blows the snow off the ground and stops sledging. One night during our
stay it rained, and the streets were in a condition next morning such
as I have never seen before or since. To speak of “puddles” would be
a mockery, and “ponds” is barely the word to use; whilst to cross the
street was to run imminent risk of losing one’s boots. Fortunately,
however, there were droshkies at hand, and in these we waded through
water nearly up to the horses’ knees.

[2] We saw beggars here and at Tomsk, but I do not recollect that they
were numerous or particularly importunate. The Russians are, however,
in this sense, very charitable. It is customary not only to give a
few kopecks to such as these, but also to the old men posted at the
entrances of the villages, who have charge of the gates placed across
the roads to keep cattle from straying in or out.

[3] It was one of the _perisylnie_ character, having 46 wards, and a
hospital with sixteen rooms. There were 26 murderers in the place, and
the number of persons committing this crime yearly in the district
seemed to me, from the round numbers they gave, to be very high. The
sentences of murderers, they said, varied from five or six to 20 years’
hard labour, after which time they were free as exiles. The general
arrangements of the prison appeared to be fairly good. I thought it
clean and well ordered; and we were struck, in the bake-house, with the
enormous size of their loaves of bread, some of them weighing from 40
to 50 lbs.

[4] In the Tomsk hospital we had seen two persons mad from the effects
of alcoholic drink; and I was sorry to hear it asserted afterwards,
by a Russian medical man, that the proportion of those in Siberia who
went mad from _delirium tremens_ was greater than in England; and he
further remarked of his countrymen, that though for a long time they
indulge in no intoxicating liquor, yet when they once drink they do so
furiously. A friend of mine had more than one man-servant who acted in
this manner. They did _not_ drink for months, and then all of a sudden
did so without ceasing, and would be mad drunk for a week or ten days.
At last, exhausted, they slept for a day or two, and woke up abashed,
promising to do so no more; but, alas! it was only till the next time.

[5] It is the same, I suspect, as that mentioned by Mr. Hill in his
“Travels in Siberia,” 30 years ago, the dimensions of which he gives as
131 feet long by 98 broad and 52 high. It is of two storeys, and in Mr.
Hill’s time was furnished after the most elegant mode of Petersburg.
The articles brought from that capital alone cost its owner from £6,000
to £7,000.

[6] Outside the smithy stood four stout posts, fixed in the ground at
the four corners, as it were, of an oblong figure, which posts were
connected at the top by cross-pieces. Into the midst of these the
horse was led. Girths were then put under him by which he could be all
but lifted off the ground, suspended to the cross-beams. To prevent
his kicking unadvisedly, two of his legs were bound with rope to the
nearest of the posts; and thus rendered helpless, and standing on
tiptoe with his remaining legs he was shod. They said that Siberian
horses are too wild to allow of their being treated in English fashion,
and it may be so, but the animals seemed to be equally averse to the
other plan.

[7] The Governor was away, but the Vice-Governor informed us that there
were six prisons in the province, for which we left him upwards of 200
New Testaments and Scripture portions, and about the same number of
tracts, papers, and broad-sheets. We subsequently saw the Governor at
Irkutsk, and I have since heard from him that these Scriptures, etc.,
have been distributed as I wished, as also a further quantity I left
with him to be forwarded to the prisons and hospitals of the immense
province of Yakutsk.

[8] Since this chapter was written, Krasnoiarsk has been almost
entirely destroyed by fire.

[9] The statistics of crime in the _okrug_, in the year 1878, revealed
that, of 182 criminals, not one was less than 17 years of age; 26
men and 5 women were between 17 and 21; but the greatest number of
criminals--63 men and 20 women.--were of ages ranging from 21 to 33;
after which the numbers of men became fewer as they grew older, but
there was not a similar decrease in the number of older women. Below
the ages of 45 and 70 there were more women criminals than men. It
appeared, too, that there were 129 married criminals as against 53
unmarried. Again, 112 were of the Russian Church, 19 of other Christian
denominations, 34 were Jews, and 17 of other non-Christian religions.
Further, 157 were criminals for the first offence, 22 for the same
offence once repeated, and 3 for the same offence twice repeated. This
last fact compares favourably with our English criminal statistics,
which show many who go in and out of prison a hundred times. I have
spoken elsewhere of the long-period prisoners having sometimes to wait
in durance for their trial. This may often be avoided by furnishing
bail. In 1878 there were in Kansk 415 on bail as against 96 under
detention. Of these, 88 were found innocent, 93 were dismissed as
“not proven,” and 147 sent elsewhere for trial; whilst of those found
guilty, 7 only were condemned to the mines, 26 to hard labour in
prison, and the remaining 149 to a “house of detention.”

[10] A lady on the Obi told me that all were bound to confess and
receive the Communion once a year. If any special reason required it,
they might receive oftener, always confessing, however, beforehand,
in a standing posture at the side of the priest, and then kneeling at
the absolution. The priest said that 200 times in the year, at Kansk,
children were participants in the sacred rite; and in connection with
this remark he made a curious statement, to the effect that, there
being few doctors in the district, it was common for mothers, when
their babies were ill, to bring them to receive the Sacrament, under
the impression that it did them physical as well as spiritual good. He
said, too, that mothers thought it their duty to bring their children
frequently to Communion till they were seven years of age, after which
period they came with them once a year for confession, communion, and
instruction.

[11] This compared favourably with the sales at the Bible Society’s
depôt at Tomsk, which is the only one in Siberia, though I had hoped
to be able to establish others at Tobolsk, Omsk, Krasnoiarsk, and
especially Irkutsk. The depôt at Tomsk had been opened about three
years, the annual sales having amounted to about 300 Bibles, 200
New Testaments, and 500 copies of the four Gospels in Sclavonic and
Russian. They had also sold a few Hebrew Bibles and the Psalms, the
latter chiefly in Sclavonic. The Protopope said he would gladly become
a depositary for the Bible Society; and would purchase at once 50
copies from me of the New Testament, but Kansk had not been mentioned
as one of the places at which a depôt was desired. Moreover, I had
been instructed, in opening a depôt, to require the depositary to sign
an agreement to abide by certain terms, after which I might take an
order to the value of £30. But I did not gather that our friend wished
altogether to turn merchant; and therefore I thought it better to let
him have the 50 copies out of hand, rather than to put him into more
complicated mercantile transactions with Petersburg.

[12] Manufacturing industry, properly speaking, has no real importance
in Siberia, except in distilling from grain and potatoes the alcohol
which is sold in numberless taverns. Reckoning factories and
distilleries together, there were, in 1876, according to Réclus, 1,100
factories and 4,000 workmen, which produced manufactures to the value
of £800,000.

CHAPTER XXI.

_THE ALEXANDREFFSKY CENTRAL PRISON._

We found the prison a huge building, which had been originally erected
for a brandy distillery. Hence it was, and sometimes still is, called
the Alexandreffsky _zavod_, or factory. It contained 57 rooms, in each
of which, according to size, were placed from 25 to 100 prisoners. We
went into several of the ordinary wards, and found them lofty, but
overcrowded. Also, in some of the oblong rooms, the inclined platforms
for sleeping occupied so much space that only a narrow passage was left
for walking about between them. When we entered such wards, therefore,
the order was given that the men should mount the opposite edges of the
platforms, and thus we passed to the end of the room and back. Further
on we came to some small cells, over the doors of which was written
the word “Secret”; and here I thought we might perhaps see something
horrible. But the thing that struck me as worst about them was their
smallness; for I should judge they could not have measured more than
8 ft. by 6 ft., though they were probably more than 12 ft. high.
These were “punishment” cells; but were far more endurable than cells
known by that name in some of our English gaols, where the prisoner
is sometimes below the level of the ground, and in a state of total
darkness, with all sound shut out save the rumbling of carriage-wheels
in the street. In the Alexandreffsky cells there was abundance of
light; there was a Russian _petchka_, or stove, just outside the door,
and it was not difficult to imagine that some prisoners might prefer
solitude under such circumstances to the society of the motley crew
packed into the larger wards.

There is a room in the building in which prisoners are allowed to see
their friends, who may come on every _maznik_, or fête day, Sundays
included, to converse for five minutes, and then make way for others.
If a prisoner has friends, they may bring him food any day between
11 and 12 o’clock. So, too, a prisoner may write to friends when he
pleases, and receive from them money up to a rouble a week.

The total number of prisoners in (and I suppose about) this place
was stated as 1,589; and as they were gathered from all parts of the
Russian empire, the walking through the wards was nothing short of an
ethnographical study.

Besides the ordinary Slavs of Russia in Europe, there were Finns,
Poles, Tatars of Kasan, Tatars of the Crimea, and Tatars of the
Caucasus and Steppes. There were Bashkirs from the province of
Orenburg, where they are breeders of cattle; and the pastoral Kirghese,
who roam over the steppes north of Persia. Tatars were known by their
shaved heads and skullcaps, and Buriats by their unmistakable Mongolian
features. I counted half-a-dozen different nationalities in a single
room.

One of the worst features in this huge prison I judged to be lack of
work; for, as we went from room to room, we found convicts twirling
their thumbs, and literally begging for employment. All of them,
however, were under “hard-labour” sentences, some to the mines for
twelve years, some to factory-work for eight and ten years, and others
to _zavod_ work for two and six years.

We were taken, at length, to see such of them as were occupied. We
entered a good-sized room, in which there might have been 50 men
making papers for cigarettes, of which they turned out 100,000 a week.
Prisoners were glad to do this, as they earn a little money thereby.
A man could manipulate 5,000 unfinished cases in a day; and three
men working together very hard could earn 30 kopecks a day, but 20
kopecks was a fairer average. For a man, however, to earn 2½_d._ a
day necessitated his sitting at work so closely as to make his chest
ache. I am not clear whether the machinery and materials for making
these cigarette-papers belonged to the prisoners, or to a merchant in
Irkutsk who bought the papers. We visited a room or two filled with
shoemakers, and gold-seekers’ top-boots were shown us of their work.
These were for sale at 14 shillings the pair. Outside the prison a
small company of men were seen returning from making bricks, which are
manufactured for the Government, and not for ordinary sale. Each man
makes on an average about 100 a day. Fifty men, they told us, turn out
5,000, between 6 and 11 in the morning and 2 and 6.30 in the afternoon,
for which they get about 10_s._ There seemed, however, to be barely a
tenth of the prisoners employed, at which we expressed astonishment.
The authorities explained it by saying that they had no work to give
them. This comparatively idle life of Siberian prisoners recalled what
had been told me in Russia, that the Government now keep in European
prisons many whom, but for the scarcity of suitable employment, they
would send to Siberia; and I ought, perhaps, to add that a number of
the convicts at Alexandreffsky were there, and had been there a long
time, awaiting the decision of various committees who were considering
how the Government could best dispose of them, so many of the Siberian
mines having passed out of Imperial hands.

Whether our visit was too early in the day, or whether the prisoners
were kept in their rooms for our inspection, I know not; but we saw
none of them lounging in the yards, as in other places. The time
allowed them for exercise is an hour a day. The number we saw wearing
chains was comparatively small. If the convicts behave well, they
are not usually kept in fetters, I heard, more than 18 months; and I
certainly observed that, the further east I went, the fewer were the
men in irons. We were next conducted to the kitchen, where was to be
seen, in course of preparation for dinner, the uncooked meat, of which
each man was said to have ½ lb. a day, including bone, and a daily
allowance of 2¾ lbs. of bread. Near the prison is a garden, where some
of the prisoners can work, and where they grow cucumbers, water-melons,
and potatoes. A few acres of arable land, cultivated by convicts, were
pointed out to us; and there was a hospital at a short distance, clean
and airy, having 8 rooms, in which we found 73 patients, many of whom
were suffering from _scorbutus_.

We now entered the office of the prison, and saw the books, in one
of which were entered four categories of punishment, namely, that of
mines, hard labour, factory employment, and no work, of which four
the last seemed by far the most prevalent, and I think the worst; for
not only had the poor fellows nothing to do, but they had nothing to
read. To remedy this was, of course, the chief object of our visit;
and the director readily entered into my plans concerning the books.
The men had been asking for something to read, he said, only a day or
two previously. We were glad, therefore, to leave with him 160 New
Testaments and other portions of Scripture in half-a-dozen languages,
and about 500 tracts and periodicals, so that there might be at least a
New Testament placed in every room.

We were now anxious to depart, but this was not so easy; for by
this time the officials had begun to realize that we had not come
as spies or intruders, but that we had really a benevolent object
in view, though they asked sundry questions before they could grasp
our motives. What could be our object in coming such a long distance
to visit Siberian prisons, and why should I take notes of what we
saw? I said something about the luxury of doing good to the poor and
unfortunate; and pointed out that, if I did not make notes of what
was said, I should forget. “Besides which,” I added, “perchance I may
some day write about what I have seen.” “Oh! then you are travelling
for literary purposes, that you may bring out a book?” “No,” said I;
“but for all that I may perhaps write of my travels”; after which
there were given me several good-sized and well-executed photographs
of the prison and its surroundings, with the remark, “Who knows? the
English do such extraordinary things, we may, perhaps, see some day an
engraving from these photographs in the English papers.” But, whatever
the motive which had brought us, they said it was very rare for them to
receive such a visit, and they were highly gratified at our coming.

The director begged us to favour his wife by staying to dinner;
and when for want of time I declined, all sorts of reasonable and
unreasonable inducements were urged why I should do so. I remained
firm, and we were then invited at least to partake of light refreshment
at the house of the secretary of the prison. We there found ourselves
in the midst of a family of Poles, with some good-looking daughters.
The eldest was dressed in _Mala-Russiá_, or “Little Russian” costume,
consisting of a morning dress of washing material, trimmed with
embroidery of variegated colours, and with Russian lace. I admired
this, and inquired where such embroidery could be purchased. The mother
gave me a small piece as a specimen, and also presented me with a
portrait of her daughter photographed in the same costume.

The photograph was taken by Malmberg of Irkutsk, and I mention it
because it has won the unqualified admiration of two eminent London
photographers, who pronounce that, both technically and artistically,
no better could be seen in any part of the world. It is particularly
choice, and, as an operator would say, “well built up.” The light is
good, and the background well arranged; and as a piece of artistic
workmanship it speaks well for the progress of art in Siberia that a
photograph from Irkutsk should bear comparison with the best the world
can produce.

After this quasi-lunch, and the exchange of sundry little souvenirs,
we departed, hoping to regain the high road at Telma in about a couple
of hours. We had reached the top of the hill, and begun the descent
through the pine-forest; and the horses were going with a run, when one
of the reins broke, and the right-wheeler began suddenly to run too
wide from the centre horse. Before the yemstchik could stop his team,
we came to a pine-tree at the side of the road, which the outer horse
allowed to come between him and his fellow. We were going at a furious
pace, and the wonder is that the whole concern, including ourselves,
was not dashed to pieces. As it was, in rushing by I thought I saw
the horse’s head strike the tree, with a force that I expected must
have killed it. We ran some distance before the remaining horses could
be stopped, and then the yemstchik went back to find, as we feared,
another horse dead in our service. To our surprise, however, the
creature had run away. The force with which the tarantass was going had
broken the remaining rein, had snapped the traces, and so allowed us to
escape, by a few inches at most, a terrible accident.

We had first to search for the missing horse, now out of sight; for
which purpose the yemstchik mounted one of our remaining steeds, and,
subsequently, my interpreter the other, I being left alone. Presently a
rough-looking man appeared coming along the road, with an extraordinary
wallet slung at his side. He was curiously ornamented with a profusion
of brass buttons and decorations, some of which would have served for
the dress of a Tunguse _shaman_. He turned out to be a horse-doctor,
and not a robber, though he naïvely said that when he saw us at first
he thought _we_ were highwaymen, until the sight of the tarantass
reassured him.

At length, after having been left about five hours, the yemstchik and
my companion came back, but without the truant horse; so we determined
to proceed with the two that remained. We accused our yemstchik of
having been drinking, but he denied it. As he went on, however, he grew
inconsolable at his loss of the horse, and fairly bellowed, saying that
he feared he should be turned out of his place and be sent to prison.
He came round gradually, too, to confess that, of the shilling I had
given him for fodder, he had spent twopence in drink; and then to the
interpreter, who sat on the box to drive, or see that we met with no
accident, he expressed the hope that the _barin_, or gentleman, would
“forgive him for being a _little_ drunk.”

And so it came to pass that by nightfall we got back to Telma, and
found our friendly post-master about to send in search of us, as he
was alarmed at our absence of 30 instead of 6 hours. After a good meal
we left at midnight for Irkutsk, which under ordinary circumstances
we ought to have reached early on the following morning. At one of
the stations, however, there were no horses, and we had to wait four
hours, which afterwards proved a mercy, though at the time I am afraid
I chafed at the delay; so that we did not come in view of the city till
10 a.m.

CHAPTER XXII.

_A CITY ON FIRE._

What a vivid recollection I have of the lovely morning of that 7th of
July! The sun was bright and warm, but the air was not yet hot. The
road lay near the cold and swiftly-flowing Angara, and the plains over
which we passed were stocked with cattle. Before us lay Irkutsk. This
city, or perhaps Kiakhta, I had thought originally to make the eastward
limit of our travels. Many friends had prophesied that we should never
get there. Some said that I was undertaking more than I could carry
out, and others that I should not be permitted by the Russians to go so
far. A subtle feeling of satisfaction, therefore, stole over us as we
posted along, and saw how soon these prophecies were to be falsified.
The town, built on a tongue of land, formed by the confluence of two
rivers, with its dozen churches, domes, and spires pointing to heaven,
looked extremely pretty; and on the hills around, handsome villas,
nestling among the trees, added not a little to the picturesqueness of
the scene. The prospect before us, therefore, the retrospect of what
we had done, the pleasant morning, and the repose to which we were
looking forward, all combined to raise our spirits, and cause us to
hasten onward. Alas! we little knew how speedily the face of things
would change.

At the ferry was collected a large number of common vehicles, before
which, however, our post-horses took precedence. We speedily crossed,
and drove through a triumphal arch, erected at the time of the
annexation of the Amur, and situated at the entrance of the town. We
did not proceed far before we saw where fire had destroyed two blocks
of buildings, the embers of which were still smoking. But it was only
similar to what we had seen at Perm and Tagil, so that we were not
greatly surprised. Worse was to come. We drove to Decocq’s hotel,
and took apartments, paid and dismissed the yemstchiks, moved our
belongings from the larger of the tarantasses, and arranged them in
our rooms--or, rather, we were doing so, when the alarm was given that
another fire had broken out. I clambered to the roof of the stables,
and there, plainly enough, were flames mounting upwards, not a dozen
houses off, and in the same street, though on the other side of the way.

The waiter said he thought the fire would not come towards the hotel,
as the wind blew from the opposite direction; but I was disinclined to
wait and see, and so we bundled our things back into the tarantass, and
told the yemstchiks, who fortunately had not left the yard, to put to
their horses, and in a few minutes we were out in the street, witnesses
of a sight that is not easy to describe. Men were running from all
directions, not with the idle curiosity of a London crowd at a fire,
but with the blanched faces and fear-stricken countenances of those who
knew that the devastation might reach to them. They looked terribly in
earnest; women screamed and children cried, and it was hard for me in
the street to get an answer to any ordinary question.

Meanwhile the yemstchiks asked, Where should they go? I tried to
discover where some of the persons to whom I had introductions lived,
but people were too excited to tell me; and at last my companion
suggested that we should go out of the town across the river. We soon
put nearly a mile between us and the flames, and reached the bank of
the Angara, where was a swinging ferry. The ferry was all but loaded,
and would not take more than one of our two tarantasses. I therefore
went with the first, leaving the interpreter to follow. On landing,
the yemstchik drove along a bridge, at the end of which he motioned to
me as to whether he should turn to the left or the right. To me it was
just the same, but I pointed to the left; and that turning proved to be
of not a little importance. I could say nothing to the yemstchik, and
had therefore to wait till the ferry returned, and then crossed again,
which occupied the greater part of an hour.

Meanwhile the increased smoke in the distance showed that the fire was
spreading, and the inhabitants of the small suburb called Glasgova, to
which I had come, were looking on in front of their houses. Among the
people I noticed a well-dressed person, whom I addressed, asking if
she spoke English or French. She at once inquired who I was and what
I wanted. I replied that I was an English clergyman travelling, that
I had just arrived in Irkutsk, had run away from the fire, and was
seeking a lodging. She answered that there were no lodgings to be had
in any of the few houses on that side of the river; “but,” said she,
“pray come into my little house, where you are welcome to remain at
least during the day.” I was only too glad to do so; and, seeing that
there was a small yard adjoining, I asked permission to put therein our
two vehicles, in which we might sleep until some better place could be
found. And thus we were a second time landed at Irkutsk, poorly enough,
perhaps the reader may think, but in a far better condition, as will
presently be seen, than before nightfall were many thousands of the
inhabitants.

We soon found that our hostess was of good family, and an exile, though
not a political, but a criminal one. On arriving at Irkutsk, the
Governor-General had shown her kindness in allowing her to remain in
the city, where she partly supported herself by giving lessons, and was
living for the summer in this quasi country-house with a young man whom
she called her brother, her little girl she had brought from Russia,
and a small servant whom she spoke of as “ma petite femme de chambre.”
There was one tolerably spacious dwelling-room in the house, and in
this were sundry tokens of refinement brought from a better home. On
the wall hung a photograph of herself, as a bride leaning on the arm of
her husband in officer’s uniform, whilst several other photographs and
ornaments spoke also of a better past.

The occasion, however, was not suited to long conversation, for the
conflagration in the town was increasing. Whilst dining, we bethought
ourselves whether we could be of some service, and the outcome of
our deliberations was that I offered to accompany Madame to her
friends residing in the town, to see if we could be of use, whilst my
interpreter stayed with the tarantasses and the little girl to guard
the premises.

Madame and I, therefore, set out, accompanied by her maid. At the ferry
we met a crowd of persons fleeing from the city, and carrying with
them what was most valuable or most dear--an old woman tottering under
a heavy load of valuable furs piled on her head; a poor half-blind
nun, hugging an ikon, evidently the most precious of her possessions;
a delicate young lady in tears, with her kitten in her arms; and boys
tugging along that first requisite of a Russian home, the brazen
_samovar_. Terror was written on all countenances. We pushed on to the
principal street, and tried to hire a droshky, but it was in vain to
call--they were engaged in removing valuables from burning houses, as
were the best vehicles and carriages the town possessed. Even costly
sleighs, laden with such things as could be saved from the flames, were
dragged over the stones and grit in the streets.

Before long we came to the wide street in which were situated the best
shops and warehouses, and where the fire was raging on either side
and spreading. Those who were wise were bringing out their furniture,
their account-books, and their treasures as fast as possible, and
depositing them in the road and on vehicles, to be carried away. A
curious medley these articles presented. Here were costly pier-glasses,
glass chandeliers, and pictures such as one would hardly have expected
to see in Siberia at all; whilst a little further on, perchance, were
goods from a grocer’s or provision merchant’s shop, and all sorts of
delicacies--such as sweets and tins of preserved fruit, to which they
who would helped themselves; and working-men were seen tearing open the
tins to taste, for the first time in their lives, slices of West India
pine-apples or luscious peaches and apricots. Other prominent articles
of salvage were huge family bottles of rye-brandy, some of which people
hugged in their arms, as if for their life, whilst other bottles were
standing about, or being drunk by those who carried them. The effects
of this last proceeding soon became apparent in the grotesque and
foolish antics of men in the incipient stage of drunkenness.

It was curious to watch the conduct of some of the tradesmen, who
seemed to hope against hope, and kept their shops locked, as if to
shut out thieves, and in the hope that the fire would not reach their
premises. I noticed one man, a grocer, whose doors were barred till
the flames had come within two houses of his own; and then, throwing
open the entrance, he called in the crowd to carry out his wares. They
entered, and brought out loaves of sugar and similar goods, until one
man carried out a glass-case full of _bon-bons_, at which there was a
general onset in the street, every one filling his pockets amid roars
of laughter. With this laughter, however, was mingled the crying of
women, who wrung their hands as they emptied their houses, and saw the
destroying flames only too surely approaching their homes.

In the street were all sorts of people--soldiers, officers, Cossacks,
civilians, tradesmen, gentlemen, women and children, rich and poor,
young and old--but not gathered in dense crowds; some were making
themselves useful to their neighbours, and a few were looking idly
on. At every door was placed a jug of clean water for those to drink
who were thirsty, and it would have been well if nothing stronger
had been taken. The fire brigade arrangements seemed to me in great
confusion. There were some English engines in the town,--one of them,
of a brilliant red, bore the well-known name of “Merryweather and
Sons,”--but the Siberians had not practised their engines in the time
of prosperity, and the consequence was that the pipes had become
dry and useless, and would not serve them in the day of adversity.
The arrangements, too, for bringing water were of the clumsiest
description. A river was flowing on either side of the city, but the
firemen had no means of conducting the water by hose, but carried it in
large barrels on wheels.

Now and then one saw a hand-machine in use, about the size of a garden
engine, or a jet such as London tradesmen use to clean their pavements
and their windows. Moreover, no one took command. I noticed in one
case, as the flames approached the corner of a street, it evidently
occurred to some that, if the house at the opposite corner could be
pulled down, the fire might stop there for want of anything further to
burn. They therefore got to the top of the house, and, with crowbars,
unloosed the beams and threw them below; but, before they had gone
on long, they changed their minds, and seemed oblivious of the fact
that the fire would burn the beams equally well on the ground as when
standing in a pile.

It must be confessed, however, that the fire had everything in its
favour. Nearly all the houses were of wood--so completely so, that,
after the calamity, there was often nothing to mark the spot where
a house had stood save the brickwork of the stove in the centre.
There was a fresh breeze blowing too, and though the houses were in
many cases detached, yet it frequently happened that the intervening
spaces were stacked with piles of firewood, which helped to spread the
conflagration.

A wooden house burning is of course a spectacle much grander than that
of flames coming through the windows of a brick structure, and the
heat much more intense. At Irkutsk it was sufficient to set fire to a
building on the opposite side of the street, without the contact of
sparks. In one case--that of a handsome shop--I noticed that the first
things that caught were the outside sunblinds, which were so scorched
that they at last ignited, and then set fire to the window-frames, and
so to the whole building.

It soon became apparent that Madame could not reach her friends, who
lived on the other side of the city, and therefore we made our way
back towards the ferry, calling here and there and offering help. One
friend asked us to take away her little daughter, which we did, and
her husband’s revolver, which I carried, and a bottle of brandy--put
into the arms of the _femme-de-chambre_. Thus laden, we walked towards
the river, whilst on all hands men and women were pressing into their
service every available worker for the removal of their goods. A
religious procession likewise was formed by priests and people with
banners, headed by an ikon, in the hope that the fire would be stayed.
Had such taken place, the ikon would no doubt have acquired the
reputation of having the power, in common with many others, of working
miracles. As it was, there was a small chapel or oratory in the centre
of the town that escaped the flames, though the houses on either side
were burned. I heard this spoken of as something very wonderful, if not
miraculous, and I am under the impression that it was so telegraphed
to Petersburg; but, on looking at the place after the fire, the
preservation of the little sanctuary seemed easily accounted for, by
the fact not only that it was itself built of brick, and left no part
exposed that could well take fire, but that the houses on either side
happened also to be of brick, so that they did not, in burning, give
off the same heat they would have done had they been of wood. One
rejoiced, of course, that the building was saved; but I could not help
suspecting that, half a century hence, the chapel will be pointed out
as having been preserved by a miracle from the great fire of 1879.

It was evening before we reached our temporary lodging, and as the day
closed the workers grew tired. Many were drunk, and others gave up
in despair. The impression seemed to gain ground that nothing could
be done, but that the devouring element must be left to burn itself
out. Hope therefore fled, and the flames continued to spread till the
darkness showed a line of fire and smoke that was estimated at not
less than a mile and a half in length. It seemed as if nothing would
escape. Now one large building caught, and then another, the churches
not excepted. To add to the vividness of the scene, an alarm of church
bells would suddenly clang out, to intimate that help was needed in
the vicinity. Perhaps shortly afterwards the flames would be seen
playing up the steeple, and fancifully peeping out of the apertures and
windows; then reaching the top, and presenting the strange spectacle
of a tower on fire, with the flames visible only at the top, middle,
and bottom. At last the whole would fall with a crash, and the sky be
lit up with sparks and a lurid glare such as cannot be forgotten.

Meanwhile the inhabitants continued to flee by thousands--the swinging
ferry near us crossed and recrossed incessantly, bringing each time its
sorrowful load, either bearing away their valuables, or going back to
fetch others. Many of the people brought such of their goods as they
could save to the banks and islands of the two rivers, and there took
up their abode for the night in a condition compared with which ours
was comfortable.

Towards midnight the town presented a marvellous spectacle. I have
already spoken of the enormous length of the line of fire when looked
at laterally; but, as the darkness deepened, I walked down to a point
on the bank from which could be seen the apex of the triangle, in the
form of which the town was built, and where appeared a mass of flames
estimated as covering an area of not less than half a square mile.

We were supposed to _sleep_ that night in the tarantass, but I rose
continually to watch the progress of the fire, which towards morning
abated, but only because it had burnt all that came in its way. About
eleven o’clock the last houses standing on the opposite bank caught
fire, and thus, in about four-and-twenty hours, three-fourths of the
town were consumed.[1]

[Illustration: THE BURNING OF IRKUTSK.

(_As seen from the Glasgova Suburbs, 7th July, 1879._)]

As for myself, I had watched the fire with mingled feelings, for we
had narrowly escaped. And then came the recollection of the previous
delays which had contributed to our preservation--the delay in going
to the Alexandreffsky prison, the runaway horse in the wood, and our
subsequent impatient waiting on the road. All these played an important
part in saving us, for, had we arrived ten minutes earlier, our
affairs might have gone very differently. Had we reached the town on
the previous day, we should, in all probability, have been at church
when the fire broke out; and then it is very doubtful whether we could
have saved our effects, such was the difficulty of getting assistance.
Moreover, the hotel was burnt within a very short time of our leaving
it, so that, when looking back upon the chain of mercies by which we
had been saved, I could not feel otherwise than deeply thankful.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] The numbers of the buildings destroyed were, of stone more than
100, and of wood about 3,500, including 6 churches, 2 synagogues, and
2 Lutheran and Roman chapels, besides 5 bazaars, the custom-house,
and the meat market. The destruction of property was estimated at
£3,000,000 sterling; and since the town contained about 33,800
inhabitants, upwards of 20,000 of them probably must have been rendered
houseless and homeless. From calculations made three months afterwards,
it appeared that 8,000 of the inhabitants were in good circumstances;
2,000 were in the military, and 1,000 in Government employ; 6,000 were
in reduced circumstances, to whom bread and corn were sold at a very
low price. There were 2,500 government _employés_ similarly straitened
by the catastrophe, leaving about 14,000 to earn their bread as best
they could.

CHAPTER XXIII.

_IRKUTSK._

Province of Irkutsk.--The capital.--Its markets.--Telegraph
officers.--Visit to the Governor.--Ruins of the city.--Attempt
to establish a Bible depôt.--Supposed incendiarism.--Benevolent
arrangements of authorities.--Wife-beating.--Servility of
Russian peasants.--Visit to a rich merchant.--Ecclesiastical
affairs.--Visit to the acting Governor-General.--The prisons.--A
prisoner’s view of them.--Prison committee.--Distribution of
books.--Visit to inspector of schools.--Change of route.

The city of Irkutsk is the capital of a government of the same name,[1]
and was founded in 1680. Its population in 1879 was 33,000. About
4,000 gold-miners spend their winter and their money in the city,
often mentioned as a cheerful place of rest for travellers coming from
China, or proceeding eastward. It is 1,360 feet above the sea, and has
a climate which even in winter is well spoken of, though, in the late
autumn, and previous to the freezing of the Angara, the fogs from the
river bring rheumatism and diseases of the throat and lungs. Little
wind blows, storms are less frequent than at Petersburg or Moscow, and
the snows are not superabundant. Whether in winter or summer, the
panorama of Irkutsk and its surroundings is one of beauty. Of its 20
churches, several were planned and constructed by two Swedish engineer
officers captured at Pultava, and sent into exile by the great Peter.

The markets of Irkutsk are well supplied. Fish and game are plentiful.
Beef is abundant and good, and costs about 2_d._ a pound. Pork, veal,
and mutton are also cheap, especially in winter, when everything that
can be frozen succumbs to the frost. Frozen chickens, partridges, and
other game are often thrown together in heaps like bricks or fire-wood.
Butchers’ meat defies the knife, and some of the salesmen place their
animals in fantastic positions before freezing them. Frozen fish are
piled in stacks, and milk is offered for sale in cakes or bricks. A
stick or string is generally congealed into a corner of the mass to
facilitate carrying, so that a wayfarer can swing a quart of milk at
his side, or wrap it in his handkerchief at discretion. Whilst the
products of the country are thus cheap, it should be observed that
everything brought from beyond the Urals is expensive on account of the
long land carriage. Champagne, for example, costs 12_s._ or 14_s._ a
bottle, and porter and ale 7_s._ 6_d._; the lowest price of sugar is
8_d._ a pound, while sometimes it costs 1_s._; and as much as 2_s._
6_d._ may occasionally be given for a lemon.

Much of this, however, I had to learn by report or reading; for, at
the time of our visit, the Sunday’s fire had upset everything, and it
became a serious question on Monday morning as to what we should do.
Many of the telegraph clerks in Siberia are Danes, and speak several
languages. We found that we had one of them, Mr. Larsen, for a near
neighbour; for the telegraph office had been burnt, and he had come
to our side of the river to take shelter in the next house, where,
having no electric battery, he had tapped the Verchne Udinsk wire,
and was trying in this way, though without success, to communicate
intelligence. He had had nothing to eat for 24 hours, and possessed
only the clothes in which he stood; so it was quite a charity to take
him a glass of tea to his temporary office in the open air, after
which he dined with us. Mr. Larsen, to whom we had an introduction,
had been a telegraphist in London, and spoke English fluently, so that
we were able to discuss our prospects to advantage. It was of prime
importance for us that we should see the Governor of the province and
the Governor-General of Eastern Siberia as quickly as possible, for
it was not hard to perceive that what provisions had escaped the fire
would be sold at famine prices; lawlessness, it was rumoured, might get
the upper hand; and it seemed better that we should leave the place
without much delay. Our adviser feared, however, and reasonably so,
that we should be able to get no attention from the higher officials
in the present state of excitement, seeing the embers of the city were
still smoking, and the authorities would naturally have more important
business than ours to attend to. Mr. Larsen, however, kindly offered
to accompany me over the river to see if anything could be done.
Accordingly we crossed, and, walking along the broad road by the side
of the Angara, the ashes of the fire scorched our faces.

We now saw something of the condition of the people who had fled
to the bank of the river on the previous day, with such effects as
they could save. Here were gentlefolks “camped out” under chests of
drawers, tables, and boxes, arranged in the best manner possible in
the open air--sheets being used for walls, and curtains for coverings.
Ikons from churches were lying about; likewise tables, heaped with
philosophical instruments from the high school; and carts filled with
movables. The instruments from the telegraph station were standing by a
post, to which paper streamers were fastened to intimate that this was
the temporary telegraph office. The people’s demeanour, however, was in
strange contrast with their pitiable condition; for many, having saved
their samovars, were drinking afternoon tea, and on all sides were
joking and laughing at their comical situation.

We found many of his friends among those beside the river, and each
began good-humouredly to ask what the other lost in the fire, and
what had been saved. Nobody seemed inclined to be at all dull over
the matter, and the same thing was apparent with the Deputy-Governor
Ismailoff, upon whom we called. “What have you lost?” said the General
to my companion. He lightly threw open his coat, and intimated that
_that_ was all he had saved. At this the General laughed heartily, and
said that he was not so well off, for that the very shirt on his back
was a borrowed one! Yet the Governor had lost in the fire a brand-new
house, upon which he had spent many thousands of roubles.

Contrary to our expectation, it was arranged for us to see the acting
Governor-General next morning, and meanwhile we had time to look at
the ruins of the city. People had taken refuge with their effects in
the large squares, as well as on the banks and islands of the river.
Many had fled into the neighbouring villages. The suburbs had escaped
the fire, as well as many of the houses standing in spacious grounds.
A few of the churches also were untouched. The large hospital was
safe, likewise the usine for smelting gold, and the Governor-General’s
house, but many of the public buildings had perished; amongst these the
museum, in which I expected to find a good ethnographical collection.
I should judge about three-fourths of the city were destroyed, and
that the best part of the town; and so complete was the wreck that the
_isvostchiks_ with their droshkies hardly knew their way about the
blackened streets.

We met a few of the higher class of exiles living free in Irkutsk,
and, on asking them what they would do, received for reply, “We do not
know. We have been earning something by teaching, but now our patrons
will leave us. All sorts of provisions will be frightfully dear, and
yet we dare not leave. So what is to be done?” The same doubts as to
the future pressed heavily upon those tradesmen whose shops were not
burnt.[2]

Of course there were various rumours afloat during the excitement of
the previous day--one, that the devastation was caused by a wilful act.
Similar rumours were afloat at Perm and Tagil, and at Irkutsk more than
twenty arrests were reported. But, upon asking the Governor, it proved
to be nonsense; for only two men had been arrested, and it was very
doubtful whether even they were guilty. The only origin I heard given
was that a hay-loft ignited, from which the flames spread.[3]

In Siberian towns the police are represented by the _gendarmerie_; and
in other places are police-masters with their employés. There are,
strictly speaking, no policemen, but Cossacks are usually employed in
their stead; and at the end of their short service are allowed to go
home. They are, however, anything but efficient constables, and I was
told that at Irkutsk the authorities do not employ them. To protect
whatever might be of value among the ruins, and to keep order after the
fire, troops were marched into the city by day, and patrolled the place
at night.

Great credit was due to the officials for the prompt manner in
which they attempted the relief of distress. The fire was scarcely
extinguished before a committee was formed, and some of the merchants
laid down handsome sums. Proclamations were posted about the place,
saying that officers could be furnished with dinners at the rate of
30 kopecks a plate, that bread might be bought for 2 kopecks--that
is, a halfpenny--a pound; and that for the first week the poor might
have bread for nothing; further, that all persons burnt out might, on
application, receive the sum of 30 kopecks. No serious outbreak of
disorder occurred during our stay, though a good deal of drunkenness
was visible. With two inebriates we were brought palpably into contact.
In the yard we occupied was a small kitchen-house, where lived a woman
cook, her husband, and some children. The husband had been to the fire,
had been drinking, and came home accompanied by a drunken associate.
The companion, referring to the cook, said, “As for that woman, she
ought to be hanged”; whereupon her husband fell to beating mercilessly
both her and her boy of about ten years old; and the child came to us
crying, as if he were half killed. Whereupon we rushed to the rescue,
and one of the party, seizing the drunken man, took him from his wife,
and gave him a thrashing.[4]

When I got further east, I heard of a third and similar instance of
wife-beating, related to me by a merchant in whose house I stayed. His
servants were convicts, simply because he could get no others; but he
said he was not usually curious to ask for what crimes they had been
sent to Siberia. It happened, however, that he had a woman-cook who
was particularly well-behaved, and an excellent servant; and he asked
her one day why she had been exiled. She said it was for poisoning her
husband; upon which my friend opened his eyes, and said,--

“Oh, then, perhaps you will murder me?”

“Oh, no, master; I should not murder _you_.”

“Yes, but if you would murder your husband, why not, some day, _me_?”

“Oh, no, master; you would not do as he did, for he beat me every day
for two years.”

Thus it was not altogether a meaningless form at a Russian wedding,
that anciently the bridegroom took to church a whip, and in one part of
the ceremony lightly applied it to the bride’s back, in token that she
was to be in subjection.

It should be remembered, however, that the brutal conduct just
described belongs to a type well known in a certain part of England;
the difference between the two being that the Russian bully beats his
wife with a whip, while the English one kicks her to death. The Russian
wives take very kindly to a moderate amount of such treatment, and
those of the lower class do not murmur or complain, but consider the
“master” has a right to chastise them; and when things do not go so
far as this, they expect, when they do not please their husbands, to
be slapped and corrected accordingly. In fact, the Russian wife among
the lower classes does not take what we think her proper position in
a house. The husband usually goes to market once a week, and buys all
he wants, business of such importance not being entrusted to the wife,
who therefore knows nothing even of the cost of her household articles.
Among the higher classes, also, the master usually sends his chief
servant to market, and pays for all that is consumed in the house.

There came out of this quarrel between man and wife another
characteristic of the Russian peasantry, which perhaps is a remnant
of serfdom, and betrays their want of manliness in the presence of
their superiors. My merchant friend, just referred to, had a convict
in the house whilst I was there, whom once before he had dismissed for
drunkenness. The man came back entreating that he might be reinstated,
but his master said, “No, I have warned you continually, and done
everything I could to keep you sober, but in vain.” “Yes, sir,” said
the man; “but then, sir, you should have given me a good thrashing.”
So with the fighting husband at Irkutsk: after receiving his stripes
he went away, but soon after came back, thanking the gentleman for
his thrashing, and promising to behave better in future. In the days
of serfdom, it was no uncommon thing for a gentleman to box the ears
of his droshky driver; but this cannot now be done with impunity. My
mercantile friend told me he was one day driving in Petersburg with
a Russian gentleman, when the latter struck the isvostchik for doing
something that displeased him; whereupon the man turned round and said,
“No more of that, sir; those days are gone by, and if you strike me
again I shall return it,”--a threat quite unbearable to a _blagorodni_,
or “noble”; and he was about to go on as of old, when my friend said,
“Look! you had better not; for if you are summoned, and I am called as
a witness, I shall be bound to say that you began it”; whereupon he
desisted.

We took an early opportunity after the fire to deliver up to General
Khamenoff, its owner, the second tarantass we had borrowed at Tomsk,
and in which my companion and I had driven and slept for a thousand
miles. Our benefactor was in reality a rich merchant, and had given,
if I mistake not, very handsome sums of money for educational purposes
in Irkutsk. This patriotic action had gained him the distinction of
“General.” His buildings had been saved, and we thus had an opportunity
of seeing the house of one well-to-do merchant at Irkutsk.

The General was getting old, and appeared in a long dressing-gown,
coming out of his beautiful garden, and seating us in a little
secretarial chamber, which had about it sundry marks of foreign
influence and taste. Before joining us, however, he bade adieu to
a previous visitor, and called his footman to open the door. There
was something inexpressibly droll about his manner of doing so, for
he simply gave a prolonged grunt--ugh!!--and as the footman did not
come at grunt number one, it was repeated, and the servant in passing
received from his master a cuff at the back of the head, doing so with
a grin and a duck of the noddle, as a schoolboy receives a blow from
his mother’s palm, knowing that he shall not be hurt. The old gentleman
then heard from us how we had escaped from the hotel, and how we were
making a sleeping chamber of his tarantass, which he said we might
continue to do until we left the town.

I was anxious to learn something of the state of ecclesiastical affairs
in the province, and to inquire what the Russian Church was doing in
her missions to the Buriats. The chief ecclesiastic of the province is
one Benjamin, Archbishop of Irkutsk and Nertchinsk, under whom is a
suffragan bishop, Meleti of Selenginsk. The Diocese has 347 churches
and chapels, 5 monasteries, and one nunnery. One of the monasteries
is near Lake Baikal, and here lives, if I mistake not, the Bishop of
Selenginsk, who could have given information about the Buriats, but
the monastery lay too far out of our way to allow of our visiting
it. Nor were we successful with the Archbishop; for on going to the
monastery, his official residence, which had narrowly escaped the fire,
we found him gone to his country residence in the suburbs. “When will
he return?” we asked. “God knows,” said our priest informant; thereby
using an expression which I observed to be very common among all
classes of Russians.[5]

On the Tuesday morning after the fire we were to be presented, as I
have said, to the acting Governor-General of Eastern Siberia. The
supreme Governor-General was Baron Friedrichs, to whom I had two
private letters of introduction, besides my official documents; also
we had made the acquaintance of his son when travelling on the Obi.
The Baron, who was in ill-health, was at some mineral springs on
the Mongolian frontier, and his place was filled at the time of our
visit by M. Lochwitzky, the Governor of Yeneseisk, to whom we were
presented by General Ismailoff. We met at the Governor-General’s house,
the finest in the city, having been originally built and furnished,
regardless of expense, by an enormously rich tea merchant. We
found M. Lochwitzky the first of the Siberian Governors (except the
Governor-General in the West) who could converse in French. He entered
readily into my plans for the distribution of books, thanked me for
those I had left at Krasnoiarsk for his province, and promised to do
for me what was a great boon, namely, to send some books to the town
of Yakutsk, to be distributed throughout that largest province of the
country. We were introduced to a Colonel Solovief, whose brother was in
London, as Secretary to the Grand Duchess of Edinburgh; and after an
assurance from the Governor-General that he would do all he could to
further our wishes, we started to see the prisons, under the conduct of
the Procureur of the town.

We drove through the ruins of the fire, and then crossed, by a wooden
bridge 300 yards long, the Uska-Kofka, by which one side of Irkutsk
is bounded. This stream divides the town from the prison and the
workshops, where a certain number of convicts are employed.[6] Speaking
generally, the prison seemed to me to resemble others I had seen in
Siberia, and to call for no special remark. Perhaps, however, I ought
to add that before I left the town I had the opportunity of hearing
about the establishment from a prisoner’s point of view. Thus I heard
that, at six o’clock on the morning of our visit, the prisoners were
told to have all in order because some Englishmen were expected, and
that certain objectionable things were hidden away. I thought, however,
that it did not speak much for my informant’s candour when, on pressing
him to say what the objectionable things were, he did not tell me.
Again, my informant tried to make it appear that the officers stole
the prisoners’ food by giving them short quantity, though he said the
_quality_ of the food was good enough. The Procureur said the prisoners
did not eat all the food allowed them; and from the quantity of pieces
of bread which we so often saw lying about in Russian prisons, I should
be disposed to think this true. This seems to be so common, that we
were told at Tiumen the prisoners may _sell_ what they do not eat; but
at Irkutsk my informant said that they did not receive more than half
their allowance, and that a quarter of a pound only of meat was given
for 10 men--a quantity so ridiculously small, that one could not but
think that here exaggeration must have overshot the mark. Moreover, my
informant told me that what he said was not from personal experience,
because he was not one of the peasant prisoners whose circumstances he
professed to relate.[7]

I was told in the town that to take books to the Irkutsk prison was a
work of supererogation; and I confess to a feeling of disappointment
when, on asking to see the library, I was taken to a cupboard full of
New Testaments and tracts, precisely the same as some of those I was
distributing, but all kept so fresh and in such order that evidently no
one had used them. The committee was reported to have spent as much as
£30 on books for the prison, but the officials had evidently not made
the books accessible to those for whom they were intended. Their excuse
was that the prisoners did not ask for them; but no doubt the officials
were afraid of their being torn, and that trouble would ensue, and so
had kept them locked up. It reminded me of what my Finnish friend had
written, that when she went to the prison, the officials said, “The
books must be arranged in order, in case the inspector should come”;
and thus the books were practically kept from the inmates. When the
Governor asked me what I thought of the prison, I did not fail to
point out the inconsistency of withholding the books; but of this he
was ignorant, and he promised to look into the matter. I endeavoured
also to make clear, in speech and by writing, that wherever my books
or tracts went throughout the province, they were to be placed within
reach at all times of the prisoners, and not to be put away in any of
the libraries.

Thus we inspected the two prisons, and also saw a school built by the
committee for prisoners’ children; in it were 42 scholars. We visited
likewise a gentleman named Sokoloff, who was the deputy-inspector of
schools for Eastern Siberia. There is also an inspector of schools for
Western Siberia, who lives at Omsk. I was surprised to hear of the many
schools and scholars in the sparsely-populated and, for scholastic
purposes, exceedingly difficult country of Eastern Siberia.[8] Our
object in calling upon the inspector was to ask him to distribute
throughout the schools copies of my tracts and periodicals, and to that
end I began by showing my credentials. But upon hearing my object, he
said that was quite sufficient; and he needed to see no papers, but
would willingly help. He bought, moreover, on his own account, 200 New
Testaments for 40 roubles, to give as prizes to the young schoolmasters
on leaving the institution, by which means the books would be scattered
widely.[9]

We now considered our next step. My original idea, when leaving
England, as already intimated, was to proceed to Irkutsk; and then,
after running on to Kiakhta for the gratification of seeing a Chinese
town, to return to Europe, and come home by the Caucasus and the
Mediterranean. I had been warned before quitting London that I should
see nothing of the severities of Siberian exile-life if I did not
penetrate the region beyond Lake Baikal; and, travelling on the Obi,
this statement was confirmed by a Russian officer in the prison
service. I feared, however, I could not do this in a single summer, and
that, if I went so far east, I should be unable to return before winter
set in. It never occurred to me that there was any available way of
reaching the Pacific from Irkutsk other than by crossing the Mongolian
desert to China, and this I was not disposed to do.

But when I learned that there was a service of steamers on the Amur,
this opened the way for other possibilities; and on June 21st, as
we rolled away from Tomsk, there dawned upon my mind a thought, the
conception of which seemed at once to promise the birth of great
things. What, said I to myself, if I could go right across Asia and
leave so many copies of Scripture as would suffice for putting at
least a New Testament or a copy of the Gospels in every room of every
prison, and in every ward of every hospital, throughout the whole of
Siberia! As I look back upon it now as an accomplished fact, the matter
seems ordinary enough; but when the thought came into my mind it looked
like a consummation far beyond anything I had hoped to accomplish,
and a result which, if it might be compassed, would be a cause of
thankfulness for the rest of my life.

Accordingly I quietly nursed the idea till we reached Irkutsk, thus far
having given a sufficiency of books answerable to the plan for all the
provinces behind me; and there yet remained three before me. Several
boxes of books were unopened, but these could not be sent forward,
because, in the first place, there was no carrier, or, if there were,
the fire had confounded all order; and even if some one could be
persuaded to take the books, it was very doubtful if they would reach
the hands of the prisoners unless I went with them in person and showed
my credentials.

I determined, therefore, to journey onward and do my best to carry out
the scheme which had taken possession of my mind. But to do this it was
necessary to have supplementary documents, for I had asked the Minister
of the Interior for letters only as far as Kiakhta. M. Lochwitzky,
however, most kindly helped in the matter, and gave me the letters I
needed for my extended plans. We were then free to go forward again
(which the reader may do at once, if he prefers, by missing the next
two chapters); but something must first be said of the routes by which
former travellers have proceeded eastwards.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Compared with some of the enormous provinces of Siberia, that of
Irkutsk is comparatively small, with an area of 300,000 square miles
only; that is, about the size of Sweden and Norway. The surface is
mountainous, and through it flow two rivers of importance, namely, the
Angara, issuing from Lake Baikal, and the Lena, which rises not far
from the capital. The province is divided into five uyezds, and has a
population of 380,000, of whom only 10 per cent. are dwellers in towns.
Marriages 4,600, and 25,000 births are recorded in the province yearly.

[2] I was specially anxious to open a depôt for the Bible Society in
Irkutsk, and to that end called upon a bookseller and printer named
Sinitzun, of Harlampi Street, and invited him to become a depositary.
He replied that he had the will to do so, but that he must first
consult his partners; for it was doubted whether the city would be
rebuilt, and whether persons having lost their premises would not,
instead of re-erecting them, go and live elsewhere. I have heard, since
my return, however, that the town is rising from its ashes even on a
grander scale than it formerly possessed.

[3] The Russians have reason, however, for constant suspicion, for they
have a revengeful way of “letting loose the red cock” upon a man, which
means setting his house on fire; and this is only too common among the
peasants of Siberia, as, in fact, generally in all Russia. Thus, of 758
fires which took place in Siberia in 1876, no less than 99, or more
than one-eighth, were due to incendiaries, to say nothing of nearly
500 more of which the causes could not be traced. Further particulars
relating to these 758 fires are, that 185 were registered as due to
“carelessness,” and 10 to lightning, whilst the estimated loss of the
whole 758 was reckoned at £82,162. With such a number of fires it is
not difficult to understand the dread of destruction in which Siberians
live, nor their practice of having a large chest in the house, in which
they habitually keep their valuables, to be removed, if necessary, at a
moment’s notice.

[4] This assault by the husband was, as far as I know, quite unprovoked
on the part of his better half, and it serves as an illustration of
the way in which a certain class of the Russians treat their wives.
It also serves to confirm what is written of Akoulka’s husband in
Dostoyeffsky’s “Buried Alive,” where two prisoners are talking in the
night, and one relates: “I had got, somehow or other, in the way of
beating her. Some days I would keep at it from morning till night. I
did not know what to do with myself when I was not beating her. She
used to sit crying, and I could not help feeling sorry for her, and so
I beat her.” Subsequently he murdered her. After which relation, the
other prisoner acquiesces, and says that “wives _must_ be beaten to be
of any service.”

[5] The chief ecclesiastical shrine of Irkutsk is a large church a
little way out of the city. In it are the remains, gorgeously entombed,
of St. Innokente, said to be preserved as fresh as when he died.
This man is regarded as the apostle of Siberia. He was originally a
missionary, who, in 1721, was sent to China; but the Chinese Government
refusing him admission to their country, he settled six years
afterwards at Irkutsk.

[6] There were 270 men in the prison, one room holding 21 murderers,
another 28 thieves, a third 20 forgers, a fourth 28 who had been
exchanging their names and punishments, and a fifth 39 who were
“without passports,” and so on. In one room they were making
match-boxes, for which they received for themselves a tenth of their
earnings. Other prisoners were making furniture, of which the materials
were supplied by the prison officers, and for which, of course, they
recouped themselves.

[7] The citizen prisoners, he said, were allowed in money 17½ kopecks a
day, which they could spend as they pleased, and with which they could
buy a pound of meat (10 kopecks), and 2½ lbs. of bread (7½ kopecks).
They have, however, in Irkutsk, a liberal prison committee, who help
in the matter of food--the cabbage in the soup, for instance, being
provided by them; and my informant, though grumbling about almost
everything else, allowed that the dinners given to the sick, which cost
20 kopecks, and all the arrangements about the prison hospital, were
exceedingly good. There were even books provided for the patients,
but this was through the kindness of the doctor. My non-official
informant also alleged that the prison officials took from the pay
of the workmen, giving them far less than the value of their labour,
and so unrighteously enriched themselves. His tone, however, was so
exceedingly bitter, that had he not allowed that there was _one_
good thing in connection with the prison, I should have discredited
all he said, especially as he dealt so much in generals, and avoided
particulars. As it was, I thought perhaps he might have spoken the
truth in some respects. I heard subsequently, from another exile, that
the Director of the prison received only £40 a year for salary, whilst
from another I heard £120 or £150; and if either of these figures
are true, it is not difficult to see that a dishonest official may
be strongly tempted to take advantage (as the Russians say) “of his
opportunities.” These “opportunities,” however, are not confined to
matters of food. I heard of a prison director at Nijni Udinsk who had
orders to send 30 prisoners to Nikolaefsk, which for certain reasons
is a favourite place with the convicts; whereupon this director made
his choice to fall upon those whose wives could pay him 25 roubles,
or 50 shillings. This looks a large amount for a prisoner to pay, but
my informant had in possession 50 roubles to be transferred for this
purpose.

[8] Mr. Sokoloff had under his inspection, in 1878, 13 classical
schools, 1 commercial, 1 industrial, 11 inferior, and 211 elementary
schools, attended by 6,000 boys and 1,500 girls. These figures,
moreover, were exclusive of the Amur district, and parts about the
Sea of Okhotsk. There were also under his inspection two training
institutions, one of them being the house at which we called--a new
building for the training, at one time, of 80 village schoolmasters.
Its furniture and fittings were admirable. It had an excellent museum,
and a room for tutorial practice; and I was particularly struck with
the number of models and apparatus for the teaching of natural science.

[9] Besides these sent to the inspector, we confided to M. Lochwitzky
for the government of Yakutsk, and for Eastern Siberia generally, about
170 New Testaments and portions of Scripture, and upwards of 3,000
tracts and periodicals; and with General Ismailoff, for the province
of Irkutsk, about the same number of Scriptures, but rather less of
other papers. We also left with General Ismailoff 500 Finnish tracts
and books for the German pastor, Ratcke; these last I have since
heard from the pastor were specially acceptable, inasmuch as when he
returned to Irkutsk he found all his books burnt. I have heard, too,
since my return, from M. Lochwitzky, that those in his hands have been
distributed according to my directions.

CHAPTER XXIV.

_THE LENA._

History of Russian invasion.--Former travellers to Okhotsk.--Cochrane,
Erman, and Hill.--Down the Lena to Yakutsk.--Prevalence
of goitre.--The Upper Lena and its tributaries.--The
Lower Lena.--Discoveries of mammoths.--New Siberian
islands.--Nordenskiöld’s passage.

When, at the beginning of the 17th century, the Cossack conquerors
of Siberia had crossed the Yenesei, and had pushed on as far as
Lake Baikal, they were met by the numerous and warlike tribe of
the Buriats, who opposed the invaders with considerable force. Not
waiting, therefore, for their entire subjection (which took 30 years
to accomplish), the Cossacks turned northwards to the basin of the
Lena, and descended the river more than half-way to the Arctic Sea,
where, coming in 1632 to the principal town of the Yakutes, they built
a fort and founded the city of Yakutsk. After this they crossed the
Aldan mountains, and, seven years later, reached the Sea of Okhotsk.
For two centuries this was the route followed by those who would cross
Siberia from the Urals to the Pacific, or _vice versâ_. In the present
day there are two other roads. All must go by the route we travelled
from Tomsk to Irkutsk, but from thence the Pacific can be reached
either by crossing the Mongolian desert to Peking, or by traversing the
Buriat steppe, and so descending the Amur. The second of these routes
is now the best, but not briefly to mention the old route would be to
omit much interesting information concerning the Lena, with its native
population and fossilized remains, as well as to miss the opportunity
of hearing a little of some of the most daring and adventurous journeys
of previous travellers.[1]

The most remarkable of these was an Englishman named John Dundas
Cochrane, a captain in the Royal Navy, who, in 1820, proposed to the
Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty that they should give their
sanction and countenance to his undertaking alone a journey into
the interior of Africa, with a view to ascertaining the course and
determination of the river Niger. This they declined, whereupon he
procured two years’ leave of absence, and resolved to attempt “a
walking tour” round the globe, as nearly as could be done by land,
crossing from Northern Asia to America at Behring’s Straits, his
leading object being to trace the shores of the Polar Sea along
America by land, as Captain Parry was at the time attempting it
by sea. Accordingly he left London with his knapsack, crossed the
Channel to Dieppe, and then set out. This gentleman was endowed with
an unbounded reliance upon his own individual exertions, and his
knowledge of man when unfettered by the frailties and misconduct of
others. One man, he said, might go anywhere he chose, fearlessly and
alone, and as safely trust himself in the hands of savages as among
his own friends. His favourite dictum was that an individual might
travel throughout the Russian empire, except in the _civilized_ parts
between the capitals, so long as his conduct was becoming, without
necessaries failing him. He put his principle rather severely to the
test, and it must be allowed that he did so with very general success,
for he states that in travelling from Moscow to Irkutsk (4,000 miles
by his route) he spent less than a guinea. From Irkutsk he descended
the Lena to Yakutsk, from whence, accompanied by a single Cossack, he
penetrated in a north-easterly direction almost to the shores of the
Ice Sea at Nijni Kolimsk, where, having altered his plans, he turned
back by a most difficult route to Okhotsk. From this place he sailed
to Kamchatka, and married a native, whom he brought by sea back to
Okhotsk, and then in winter crossed the Aldan mountains to Yakutsk,
whence the happy pair proceeded to Irkutsk, and at length reached
England, where Mrs. Cochrane, as I learn from the daughter of one who
knew her, was carefully educated, and passed as a lady in good society.
For enterprise and bravery this captain, I take it, easily bears off
the palm from all Siberian travellers.[2]

The writer who has added most, perhaps, to our scientific knowledge of
the valley of the Lena is M. Adolph Erman, who crossed Siberia in 1828,
in conjunction, though not in company, with Professor Hansteen, the
first professor at the Magnetic Observatory at Christiania, in Norway,
and famous for his researches in terrestrial magnetism. They both
travelled for the purpose of making magnetic and other observations;
but, on arriving at Irkutsk, Professor Hansteen returned to Europe,
whilst Erman continued down the Lena to Yakutsk, crossed to the Sea of
Okhotsk, and so continued round the world.[3]

Later on, one more Englishman has reached the Pacific by way of the
Lena, namely, Mr. S. S. Hill, who did so in 1848, and it is not
unlikely that he may, for some time, be the last of the intrepid
travellers who have accomplished this feat, since the Amur is now
open to the Russians, and presents a far easier way of crossing the
continent.

To follow the older route, the first portion had to be traversed by
post vehicles from Irkutsk, a distance of 160 miles in a north-easterly
direction. The road crosses the water-parting of the Lena basin at or
near the station Khogotskaya, which is about 90 geographical miles from
Irkutsk. The traveller journeys through a hilly country, where there
is abundant pasture, and where the land is to some extent cultivated,
to the village of Kachugskoe, situated on the banks of the Lena. Here
various sorts of merchandise are embarked in large flat-bottomed boats,
which are floated down the river. These goods are exchanged with the
natives for furs, the boats at the end of the journey being broken
up in districts where timber is scarce, and the furs brought back in
smaller craft.[4]

The descent of the Upper Lena to Yakutsk by water was undertaken by
Mr. Hill in spring, and by Captain Cochrane in autumn, but Mr. Erman
accomplished it on the ice in winter, by a 20 days’ sledge journey
of nearly 1,900 miles. As he passed along he observed, first in the
village of Petrovsk, several of the women largely affected with
goitre, and learned with surprise that this malady, which in Europe
characterises the valleys of the Alps, is frequent on the Lena. As
he proceeded he found goitre in men also, and asking an exile at
Turutsk, who appeared the only healthy person in the place, how he
had protected himself from goitre, was told that adults arriving
from Europe were never attacked by the disease, but that the goitre
was born with the children of the district, and grew up with them.
Medical men in Switzerland say that goitre proceeds from deposits in
chemical combination, washed down by mountain streams that supply the
inhabitants of the neighbourhood with drinking water, and that it
attacks children on account of their mucous membranes being very tender
and easily distended. Mr. Erman inquired carefully, as he went on,
respecting the prevalency of goitre, and having made barometrical and
other observations along the way, he came at length to the conclusion
that the disease was traceable, in part, to the formation and altitude
of various places along the valley of the river, where the air, being
confined, is, in summer, heated to an extraordinary degree, and loaded
with moisture.

With regard to the stream of the Upper Lena, its head waters have their
sources spread out for 200 geographical miles along the counter slopes
of the hills that form the western bank of Lake Baikal, and the main
stream rises within seven miles of the lake.

At Kachugskoe, about 60 geographical miles from the Baikal, and not
less than 75 geographical miles in a straight line from its source,
the Lena measures about the width of the Thames in London. The water,
deep and clear, has in spring a very rapid current, though Captain
Cochrane speaks of the rate lower down, in autumn, as only 1½ or 2
knots per hour. The next station after Kachugskoe is Vercholensk, a
town of 1,000 inhabitants, the first of that size on the north-east
of Irkutsk, and is the chief town of the uyezd. After flowing 500
miles further through a hilly country, with high banks always on one
and sometimes on both sides, on which are 35 post-stations and more
villages, the river passes Kirensk, which again is the chief town of
an uyezd, and has a population of 800.[5] Here cultivation practically
ceases, except for vegetables. At this point, too, the river receives
on its right the Kirenga, which has run nearly as long a course as
the Lena. The stream thus enlarged now flows on for 300 miles more to
Vitimsk, where it is joined by its second great tributary, the Vitim,
from the mountains east of Lake Baikal. Another stretch of 460 miles,
through a country still hilly, but with villages less frequent, brings
the traveller to Olekminsk, the capital of another uyezd, a town of 500
inhabitants; there the Lena receives from the south the Olekma, which
rises near the Amur river. It then continues for 400 miles through a
sparsely-populated district, till it reaches Yakutsk, where it is 4
miles wide in summer, and 2½ in winter, the river being usually frozen
about the 1st October, and not free from ice till about May 25th.

Hitherto the course of the river has been to the north-east, but at
Yakutsk the stream makes a bend and runs due north, receiving on its
right, 100 miles below Yakutsk, one of its largest tributaries, the
Aldan, which rises in the Stanovoi range bordering on the Sea of
Okhotsk. Yakutsk is only 270 feet above the sea, and the current of the
river henceforth is sluggish. About 50 miles further the Lena receives
its largest tributary from the left, the Vilui, and then proceeds
majestically through a flat country with an enormous body of water to
the Arctic Ocean, into which it enters among a delta of islands formed
of the _débris_ brought down by the river.

In the region of the Lower Lena, and to the westward, have been found
the remains of a huge rhinoceros, and an elephant larger than that now
existing--the _elephas primigenius_, popularly called the mammoth. It
is so named from the Russian _mamont_, or Tatar _mamma_ (the earth),
because the Yakutes believed that this animal worked its way in the
earth like a mole; and a Chinese story represents the _mamentova_ as
a rat of the size of an elephant which always burrowed underground,
and died on coming in contact with the outer air. The tusks of the
mammoth are remarkable for exhibiting a double curve, first inwards,
then outwards, and then inwards again; and Professor Ramsay gives
it me as the opinion of several able naturalists that the so-called
mammoth is of the same species as the Indian elephant, only much
altered by the change of climatic conditions. The Samoyedes say that
the mammoth still exists wandering upon the shores of the Frozen
Ocean, and subsisting on dead bodies thrown up by the surf. As for the
rhinoceros, they say it was a gigantic bird, and that the horns which
the ivory-merchants purchase were its talons. Their legends tell of
fearful combats between their ancestors and this enormous winged animal.

A trade in mammoth ivory has been carried on for hundreds of years
between the tribes of Northern Asia and the Chinese; but it was a long
time before European naturalists took a marked interest in the evidence
of an extinct order of animals which these remains undeniably recorded.
The Siberian mammoth agrees exactly with the specimens unearthed in
various parts of England, especially at Ilford in the valley of the
Thames, near London, and on the coast of Norfolk; but whereas on
European soil there remain but fragments of the skeleton, there have
been found in Siberia bones of the rhinoceros and mammoth covered with
pieces of flesh and skin. These discoveries date back more than a
century.[6]

In 1865 the captain of a Yenesei steamer learnt that some natives had
discovered the preserved remains of a mammoth in latitude 67°, about
100 versts west of the river. Intelligence was sent to Petersburg,
and Dr. Schmidt was commissioned to go and examine into the matter.
Accordingly he proceeded down the Yenesei to Turukhansk, and thence to
the landing-place nearest the mammoth deposit, hoping to obtain the
animal’s stomach, and, from the character of the leaves within, infer
the creature’s _habitat_, since it is known that the beast lived upon
vegetable food, but of what exact character no one has yet determined.
Unfortunately the stomach was wanting.

In examining, under the microscope, fragments of vegetable food picked
out of the grooves of the molar teeth of the Siberian rhinoceros at
Irkutsk, naturalists have recognised fibres of the pitch-pine, larch,
birch, and willow, resembling those of trees of the same kind which
still grow in Southern Siberia. This seems to confirm the opinion,
expressed long ago, that the rhinoceros and other large pachyderms
found in the alluvial soil of the north used to inhabit Middle
Siberia, south of the extreme northern regions where their skeletons
are now found; but Mr. Knox, who travelled for some distance with
Schmidt on his return journey, says that the doctor estimated that the
beast had been frozen many thousands of years, and that his natural
dwelling-place was in the north, at a period when perhaps the Arctic
regions were warmer than they now are. Covered with long hair, the
animal could certainly resist an Arctic climate; but how on the tundras
of the north could the animal have found the foliage of trees necessary
for its subsistence? Must we conclude that formerly the country was
wooded, or that the mammoth did not live where its skeletons are now
found, but further south, whence its carcase has been carried northward
by rivers, and frozen into the soil? These are questions debated among
geologists, and still awaiting solution.

The fact, however, remains, that mammoth ivory is still an important
branch of native commerce, and all travellers bear witness to the
quantities of fossil bones found throughout the frozen regions of
Siberia.[7]

Each year, in early summer, fishermen’s barques direct their course
to the New Siberian group, to the “_isles of bones_”; and, during
winter, caravans drawn by dogs take the same route, and return charged
with tusks of the mammoth, each weighing from 150 lbs. to 200 lbs. The
fossil ivory thus obtained is imported into China and Europe, and is
used for the same purposes as the ordinary ivory of the elephant and
hippopotamus.

We cannot leave the Lower Lena and the neighbouring shores of the
Arctic Ocean without alluding to the wonderful sight those shores
witnessed in 1878, for the first time in the history of the world. It
was no less a sight than that of two steam vessels that had ploughed
their way from Europe round Cape Cheliuskin. One of them was the
_Vega_, in which was Professor Nordenskiöld, whose intention had been
to anchor off the mouth of the Lena, but a favourable wind and an open
sea offered so splendid an opportunity of continuing his voyage that he
did not neglect it. He sailed away, therefore, on the 28th of August,
direct for Fadievskoi, one of the New Siberian islands, where he
intended to remain some days, and to examine scientifically the remains
of mammoths, rhinoceroses, horses, aurochs, bisons, sheep, etc., with
which these islands are said to be covered. The _Vega_ made excellent
progress, but though, on the 30th, Liakov Island was reached, the
professor was unable to land, owing to the rotten ice which surrounded
it, and the danger to which the vessel would have been exposed in case
of a storm in such shallow water.

After the _Vega_, with Nordenskiöld on board, had left its sister
ship the _Lena_, the latter vessel, under the command of Captain
Johannesen, started to ascend the river of its own name. A pilot
had been engaged to descend the river and await the arrival of the
_Lena_, but as neither he nor his signals were visible, the captain,
after considerable difficulty, from the shallowness of the water, made
his way through the delta, and on the 7th September reached the main
stream, where the navigation was less difficult. Yakutsk was reached on
the 21st September, dispatches were sent on to Irkutsk, and from thence
it was telegraphed to Europe that the rounding of Cape Cheliuskin and
the navigation of the Lena by a steamer from the Atlantic had been
accomplished.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] I allude to the accounts of Strahlenberg, De Lesseps, Billings,
Ledyard, Dobell, Gordon, Cochrane, Erman, Cotterill, and Hill.

Strahlenberg was a Swedish officer, who, at the beginning of the 18th
century, was banished for 13 years to Siberia. He collected a vast
amount of information concerning the country generally, and compiled
polyglot tables of aboriginal languages, and amongst them that of the
Yakutes inhabiting the valley of the Lena, of whose Pagan condition he
gives many illustrations.

M. de Lesseps was French Consul and interpreter to Count de la Perouse,
the well-known circumnavigator. De Lesseps entered the country at
Kamchatka in 1788, and wrote an account of his travels across Siberia
and Europe to Paris.

Captain Billings was an Englishman, who, after sailing with the
celebrated Captain Cook, was employed by the Empress Katharine II. to
make discoveries on the north-east coast of Siberia, and among the
islands in the Eastern Ocean stretching to the American coast. For this
purpose he proceeded to North-Eastern Siberia in 1785, sailed down the
river Kolima, explored a portion of the country eastward, and then
returned by way of Yakutsk.

Another of Captain Cook’s officers, John Ledyard, had the most romantic
enthusiasm for adventure, perhaps, of any man of his time. He conceived
the project of travelling across Europe, Asia, and America as far as
possible on foot, and to this end he set out from London with about
£50 only in his pocket. He reached Yakutsk, where he met with Captain
Billings, and with him was hoping to proceed to America, when, by order
of the Russian Court, Ledyard was arrested on suspicion of being a
French spy, and was taken off to Moscow.

Another journey across Northern Asia was made after the time of
Billings by Peter Dobell, a counsellor of the Court of His Imperial
Majesty the Emperor of Russia. Dobell landed in Kamchatka in 1812, and
from thence proceeded overland to Europe.

[2] Another journey from Okhotsk up the Lena to Irkutsk and Kiakhta,
and then across Siberia to Europe, was made about 1820 by a merchant
named Peter Gordon; but his notes are very short, and appear only in
his “Fragment of a Tour through Persia.”

[3] Professor Erman received the Patron’s gold medal of the Royal
Geographical Society of London in 1844, for his scientific researches
in physical geography, meteorology, and magnetism around the globe
in 1828-30. His researches in Northern Asia were of especial value,
particularly in Eastern Siberia and Kamchatka.

[4] It was in one of these flat-bottomed boats that Mr. Hill descended
the stream, in company with a Russian merchant, accomplishing the
journey to Yakutsk in 21 days, with no worse mishaps by water than
occasionally being driven on sand or mud banks, or into a forest of
trees, all but submerged by the height of the spring floods.

Captain Cochrane chose a more independent course. Being furnished with
a Cossack, he drove from Irkutsk to the Lena, and, having procured
an open canoe and two men, paddled down the stream. Proceeding day
and night, they usually made from 100 to 120 miles a day, finding
hospitable villages at intervals of from 15 to 18 miles, as far
as Kirensk, and so arrived on the eighth day at Vitimsk. It was
now late in the autumn, and the ice began to come down the river,
which sometimes compelled the natives to strip, and, up to their
waists in water, to track the boat, and this with the thermometer
below freezing-point. At length the captain, in consequence of the
difficulties of boating, was requested at one of the villages to
proceed on horseback, which he did, and, being unable at the next
station to get either horses or boat, he had to shoulder his knapsack
and walk; and so, by means of walking, riding, and paddling, he reached
Olekminsk. From thence to Yakutsk is about 400 miles, which, excepting
the two last stages, the captain completed in a canoe, arriving on the
6th October. The weather was cold, snow was falling, and on approaching
Yakutsk the canoe was caught in the ice, so that he was compelled to
make the remainder of his journey on foot.

[5] The difference of latitude, as pointed out by Mr. Trelawney
Saunders, between Verko (or upper) Lensk (54° 8′) and Kirensk (57° 47′)
is only 3° 39′, or 219 geographical miles. The latter place is but
little east of north from the former, so that the 500 miles must be
mainly due to the windings of the stream.

[6] In December, 1771, a party of Yakutes hunting on the Vilui,
near its junction with the Lower Lena, discovered an unknown animal
half-buried in the sand, but still retaining its flesh, covered with a
thick skin. The carcase was too much decomposed to allow of more than
the head and two feet being forwarded to Irkutsk; but they were seen by
the great traveller and naturalist, Peter Simon Pallas, who pronounced
the animal a rhinoceros, not particularly large of its kind, which
might perchance have been born in Central Asia.

In the year 1799 a bank of frozen earth near the mouth of the Lena
broke away, and revealed to a Tunguse, named Schumachoff, the body of
a mammoth. Hair, skin, flesh and all had been preserved by the frost;
and seven years later Mr. Adams, of the Petersburg Academy, hearing of
the discovery at Yakutsk, visited the spot. He found, however, that
the greater part of the flesh had been eaten by wild animals and the
dogs of the natives, though the eyes and brains remained. The entire
carcase measured 9 ft. 4 in. high, and 16 ft. 4 in. from the point of
the nose to the end of the tail, without including the tusks, which
were 9 ft. 6 in. in length if measured along the curves. The two tusks
weighed 360 lbs., and the head and tusks together 414 lbs. The skin was
of such extraordinary weight that ten persons found great difficulty in
carrying it. About 40 lbs. of hair, too, were collected, though much
more of this was trodden into the sand by the feet of bears which had
eaten the flesh. This skeleton is now in the Museum of the Academy at
Petersburg.

Again, in 1843, M. Middendorf found a mammoth on the Taz, between the
Obi and the Yenesei, with some of the flesh in so perfect a condition
that it was found possible to remove the ball of the eye, which is
preserved in the Museum at Moscow.

[7] It has been suggested that the abundant supplies of ivory which
were at the command of the ancient Greek sculptors came by way of
the Black Sea from the Siberian deposits. So far back as the time of
Captain Billings, Martin Sauer, his secretary, tells us of one of the
Arctic islands near the Siberian mainland, that “it is a mixture of
sand and ice, so that when the thaw sets in and its banks begin to
fall, many mammoth bones are found, and that all the isle is formed
of the bones, of this extraordinary animal.” This account is to some
extent corroborated by Figuier, who tells us that New Siberia and the
Isle of Liakov are for the most part only an agglomeration of sand,
ice, and elephants’ teeth; and at every tempest the sea casts ashore
new quantities of mammoths’ tusks. Réclus speaks of an annual find of
15 tons of mammoth ivory, representing about 200 mammoths; and, about
1840, Middendorf estimated the number of mammoths discovered up to that
time at 20,000.

CHAPTER XXV.

_YAKUTSK._

The province of Yakutsk.--Rivers.--Minerals.--The town of
Yakutsk.--Its temperature.--Inhabitants.--The
Yukaghirs.--The Yakutes.--Their dwellings.--Food.--Dress.--
Products.--Occupations.--Industries.--Language.--Religion.--Route
from Yakutsk to Okhotsk.--Reindeer riding.--Summer
journey.--Treatment of horses.

The province of Yakutsk is the largest in Siberia, and covers an area
of no less than a million and a half of square miles, and is therefore
nearly as large as the whole of Europe, omitting Russia.[1] The total
population of this enormous province is 235,000,--that is to say,
it has about one-seventh part of an inhabitant to each square mile.
The yearly number of marriages is 5,000, and the births 12,000. The
Russian town population in 1876 numbered about 2,000, and the country
population 5,000; of which there were hereditary nobles, 100; personal
nobles, 450; ecclesiastical persons, 600; military, 1,700; and the
rest, upwards of 220,000, were natives--that is to say, Tunguses,
Yukaghirs, and Yakutes. The natives are divided into communities, under
_golovahs_, or mayors, of their own race, who are, however, subject to
the Russian authorities. The province is divided into five uyezds.

The chief mineral product is gold, which has frequently to be procured
from frozen ground. The valleys of the Vitim and Olekma especially are
rich in this mineral. In the valley of the Vitim, about 200 versts
from its mouth, are quarries of mica, from which the whole of Siberia
was formerly supplied with a substitute for window-glass. Mr. Erman
procured plates of brown mica from one to two feet square. As, however,
I saw glass used everywhere, I presume that the demand for mica must
have diminished greatly.

In the forests of the Vitim and Olekma are caught the smallest sables,
with the finest, blackest, and hence most valuable furs. The squirrels
of the district are hunted only in winter, when they are sometimes
black and sometimes bright grey, their fur in summer being red, the
hair loose, and skin valueless. The black realize the highest price,
and are frequently met with south of the river, while north of the Lena
none but grey are captured. The hunters think that this difference
depends upon the nature of the forest.[2]

The town of Yakutsk, which the natives proudly call “the city of
the Yakutes,” presents a curious medley of dwellings; for there are
seen not only the Government buildings, and the wooden houses of
the Russians, but also the less pretentious winter dwellings of the
Yakutes, and even their summer yourts. Oxen here take the place of
horses. Women and girls ride them astride; their sledges also are often
drawn by them, the driver being mounted on one of the animals. The
cathedral is built of stone, and dedicated to St. Nicolas; and there
are in the town some half-dozen churches, in which certain parts of the
service, if not the whole, are performed in the Yakute language. The
chief ecclesiastic is Dionysius, Bishop of Yakutsk and Viluisk, who has
in his hyperborean diocese 49 churches and chapels, and one monastery
containing 13 monks.

Yakutsk has the credit of being the coldest place upon the face of the
earth. The mean temperature of the air is 18·5 Fahrenheit. A degree
of cold takes place there every year between the 17th December and
18th February, exceeding 58° below zero. During Mr. Erman’s stay the
cold reached even 71·5 below zero. Mercury, therefore, is frozen at
Yakutsk for one-sixth of the year. An exceedingly warm summer follows
this cold winter, and continues from about the 12th May to the 17th
September. The ground is then thawed three feet deep, and though the
crops rest on perpetually frozen strata, yet they produce fifteen-fold
on an average, and in particular places forty-fold.[3]

Yakutsk has a population of 4,800, some of whom are political exiles,
Scoptsi, etc., who live both here and in the villages along the
river. It would require no great stretch of the imagination, however,
to call all the Russian inhabitants exiles, for they are upwards of
5,000 miles from Petersburg.[4] As we travelled on the Obi we had for
fellow-passengers an official with four children and a woman, bound
for Yakutsk; and when, outside Tomsk, we saw the party stowed into one
tarantass, we pitied them in prospect of the remainder of their 3,000
miles’ journey.

The Russian population of the province is confined almost exclusively
to the banks of the Upper Lena, Yakutsk, and its neighbourhood. The
Tunguses are found at the extreme east and west of the province, and
have been already spoken of in a previous chapter.

Of another race, the Yukaghirs, it may suffice to say that they were
computed, in 1876, at only 1,600 in number, and that very little is
known of them. They roam over a tract on the shores of the Northern
Ocean lying between the Yana and the Kolima. They were once powerful,
and on the rivers Yana and Indigirka tumuli and ancient burial-places
are pointed out, containing corpses armed with bows, arrows, and
spears. With these, too, lies buried the magic drum, well known in
Lapland. At one time there were more hearths of the Yukaghirs on the
banks of the Kolima than stars in the sky--so their legend says. These
people maintain themselves during the whole year on the reindeer they
kill in spring and autumn. At such seasons the mosquitoes drive the
tormented animals to take refuge in the rivers, and not until winter is
coming do they return to the woods, the stags leading the way, followed
by the hinds and their young. Posted under cover, the Yukaghirs
discover the place where the herd will make the passage of a stream,
and conceal their canoes under the banks till the animals take the
water. Then they push out, and, having cut the helpless deer off from
either shore, proceed to slaughter them, whilst swimming, with long
spears, which they use with marvellous skill.

The Yukaghirs are great smokers; their tobacco--the coarse species of
the Ukraine--they mix with chips to make it go further; and in smoking
not a whiff is allowed to escape into the air, but all is inhaled and
swallowed, producing an effect somewhat similar to a mild dose of
opium. Tobacco is considered their first and greatest luxury. Women
and children all smoke, the latter learning to do so as soon as they
are able to toddle. Any funds remaining after the supply of tobacco
has been laid in are devoted to the purchase of brandy. A Yukaghir, it
is said, never intoxicates himself alone, but calls upon his family to
share the drink, even children in arms being supplied with a portion.

In the centre of the Yakutsk province, occupying the valley of the
Lena, roam the Yakutes, some of whom I met as far off as Nikolaefsk.
They are of middle height, and of a light copper colour, with black
hair, which the men cut close. The sharp lines of their faces express
indolent and amiable gentleness rather than vigour and passion. They
reminded me of North American Indians; and I agree with Erman, who says
that their appearance is that of a people who have grown wild rather
than of a thoroughly and originally rude race. Those I saw, however,
having been long settled among the Russians, had perhaps become
somewhat more polished than their wandering brethren. As a race they
are good-tempered, orderly, hospitable, and capable of enduring great
privation with patience; but in independence of character they contrast
unfavourably with their Tunguse neighbours. Lay a finger in anger on
one of the Tunguses, and nothing will induce him to forget the insult;
whereas with the Yakutes, the more they are thrashed the better they
work.[5]

The winter dwellings of the people have doors of raw hides, and log or
wicker walls calked with cow-dung, and flanked with banks of earth to
the height of the windows. The latter are made of sheets of ice, kept
in their place from the outside by a slanting pole, the lower end of
which is fixed in the ground. They are rendered air-tight by pouring
on water, which quickly freezes round the edges; and the fact that it
takes a long time to melt these blocks of ice thus fixed is highly
suggestive of what the temperature must be, both without and within.
The flat roof is covered with earth, and over the door, facing the
east, the boards project, making a covered place in front, like the
natives’ houses in the Caucasus. Under the same roof are the winter
shelters for the cows and for the people, the former being the larger.
The fireplace consists of a wicker frame plastered over with clay,
room being left for a man to pass between the fireplace and the wall.
The hearth is made of beaten earth, and on it there is at all times a
blazing fire, and logs of larch-wood throw up showers of sparks to the
roof. Young calves, like children, are often brought into the house to
the fire, whilst their mothers cast a contented look through the open
door at the back of the fireplace. Behind the fireplace, too, are the
sleeping-places of the people, which in the poorer dwellings consist
only of a continuation of the straw laid in the cow-house.

In the winter they have but about five hours of daylight, which
penetrates as best it can through the icy windows; and in the evening
all the party sit round the fire on low stools, men and women smoking.
The summer yourts of these people are formed of poles about 20 feet
long, which are united at the top into a roomy cone, covered with
pieces of bright yellow and perfectly flexible birch bark, which are
not merely joined together, but are also handsomely worked along the
seams with horsehair thread.

The houses are not overstocked with furniture, and the chief cooking
utensil is a large iron pot. At the time of the invasion of the
Russians, this article was deemed such a treasure that the price asked
for a pot was as many sable-skins as would fill it. They use also
in winter a bowl-shaped frame of wicker-work, plastered with frozen
cow-dung, in which they pound their porridge. With regard to their
food, the Yakutes, if they have their choice, love to eat horse-flesh;
and their adage says that to eat much meat, and grow fat upon it, is
the highest destiny of man. They are the greatest gluttons. So far back
as the days of Strahlenberg, it was said that four Yakutes would eat
a horse. They rarely kill their oxen for food; and at a wedding, the
favourite dish served up by the bride to her future lord is a boiled
horse’s head, with horse-flesh sausages. When, however, horse-flesh
or beef is wanting, they are not at all nice as to what they consume,
for they eat the animals they take for fur, and woe to the unfortunate
horse that becomes seriously injured in travel! It is killed and eaten
then and there, the men taking off their girdles to give fair play to
their stomachs, which swell after the fashion of a boa-constrictor.
Thus earnestly do they aspire to their notion of the highest destiny
of man! Milk is in general request among them, whether from cows or
mares; and when they are in the neighbourhood of the Russians, and can
get flour, they do so; but far away in the forests they make a sort of
porridge or bread, not exactly of sawdust, but of the under bark of the
spruce, fir, and larch, which they cut in small pieces, or pound in a
mortar, mixing it with milk, or with dried fish, or boiling it with
glutinous tops of the young sprouts. In spring, when the sap is rising,
they gather their bark harvest. They make also fermented beverages
of milk; and in the height of summer, when the mares foal, an orgie
is held, at which the men drain enormous bowls of this intoxicating
liquor; whilst the women, denied the privilege of intoxication, solace
themselves by getting as near to it as they can by smoking tobacco.
The distillation of sour milk is also practised, producing a coarse
spirit known as _arigui_. They devour likewise enormous quantities of
melted butter. This also can be prepared in such a way as to cause
intoxication when taken in sufficient quantities.

The dress of the Yakutes resembles in its main features that of
the other natives of Siberia, save, perhaps, that they are fonder
of ornaments. Both sexes riding a good deal on oxen and horses,
a perpendicular slit is made up the back from the bottom of the
_sanayakh_, or upper garment, in order to render the wearer comfortable
in the saddle, and some of the women add behind them a cushion or
pad, to save them from the rough motion of the animals. During the
milder part of the year a robe, made of very pliable leather, stained
yellow, is worn, which indoors is frequently laid aside, and males and
females sit by the fire, leaving the upper part of the body naked. I
bought a pair of women’s Yakute boots of this leather. They fit
tight to the leg, and have at the top a flap of black velvet with red
cloth trimming, which can be turned down and exposed for show in fair
weather, or turned up, bringing the boots to the thighs. On each boot
are two broad leather thongs, five or six feet long, to wind round the
leg. Waterproof boots are here made, called by the Russians _torbasis_.
These are cut from horse-hide, steeped in sour milk, then smoked, and
finally rubbed well with fat and fine soot. They last exceedingly well,
and are an inestimable comfort to the wearer, enabling him to tramp
through snow, water, and mud without inconvenience.

[Illustration: TUNGUSE GIRLS IN WINTER COSTUME.]

The Yakute women are clever in making up fur garments. When visiting a
Yakute family, I was looking about for a souvenir, and could at first
see nothing to buy. In the room hung a curious cradle, very nearly
resembling a coal-scuttle, which, when travelling, they suspend at
the side of a reindeer; but this was too large for me to bring away.
At length the materfamilias drew out a box in which she kept her
treasures. Among these were some large pieces of fur, each consisting
of an immense number of the small pieces of white skin that are found
under the squirrel’s neck. No piece was so large as the palm of the
hand, and she had sewn them together with great industry. These I
bought, much to the disgust of her daughter, for whom they were to have
made a dandy garment. I purchased also of the old lady what I prized
more, namely, an “_itti_,” or large cap, coming down with flaps at the
ears. The crown is made of the skins of sables’ feet, and it has a
border all round of the fur of sables’ tails. The sight of this, since
my return, has often excited the admiration of my lady friends.

The Yakutes who inhabit the inclement region adjacent to the Frozen
Ocean have neither horses nor oxen, but breed large numbers of dogs,
which draw them to and fro on their fishing excursions. Even those
living on the 62nd parallel keep cattle under far greater difficulties
than usual, for they have to make long journeys to collect hay, and do
not always find enough. The cold prevents their breeding sheep, goats,
or poultry. Nevertheless, cattle and hunting are their chief means of
subsistence, for they do not in general cultivate the land, though in
the gardens at Yakutsk are grown potatoes, cabbages, radishes, and
turnips; gherkins, too, are reared in hot-beds.

Some products of Yakutsk industry are purchased by the Russians,
particularly floor-cloths of white and coloured felts, which are cut
in strips and sewed together like mosaic. From the earliest times they
have been able to procure and work for themselves metals.[6]

The language of the Yakutes, which is largely spoken by the Russians
who live among them, is one of the principal means by which we are
led to assume their Turkish origin, for Latham says their speech is
intelligible at Constantinople, and their traditions (for literature
they have none) bespeak a southern origin.

Here are some Yakute words compared with Turkish:--

English. Yakute. Turk.

Yes _Sittee_ Evet
No _Socht_ Yokh
Well _Outchigey_ Peky, Aee
Bad _Thoosahane_ Fené
Bread _Astobitt_ Ek-mek
Water _On_ Soo
Beef _Augauss_ Seyir
Horse _Att_ Att
Road _Coll_ Yol
Man _Kissi_ Kissi, Adami
Woman _Jaiktorr_ Aorat
Tree _Marss_
Rain _Samirr_ Yaghmoor
One _Bare_ Bir
Two _Akee_ Eekee
Three _Oose_ Ootch
Four _Terte_ Dort
Five _Baiss_ Besh
Six _Alta_ Altee
Seven _Sett_ Yedee
Eight _Agaouss_ Antuz
Nine _Togouss_ Tokuz
Ten _Owni_ On
Eleven _Onordoubis_ On-bir
Twelve _Okorduchi_ On-eekee
Twenty _Surbia_ Igirme

Strahlenberg calls these people Pagans, but the latest writers call
them Christians; and the method of their conversion was, it is said,
extraordinary, for the Russian priests not making much headway against
their superstitions, an ukase was one day issued setting forth that
the good and loyal nation of the Yakutes were thought worthy to enter,
and were consequently admitted into, the Russian Church, to become a
part of the Tsar’s Christian family, and entitled to all the privileges
of the rest of his children. Such was the tenor of this strange
proclamation, and success attended the measure. The new Christians
showed perfect sincerity in the adoption of their novel faith, and
the Russian priests have established their sway over the Yakute race,
though amongst the outlying portion a lingering belief in Shamanism
still survives, of which travellers from Yakutsk to Okhotsk have been
made aware by their Yakute guides leaving them awhile in foggy weather,
and stealing off into the forest to perform certain mysterious rites.

The distance from Yakutsk to Okhotsk is 800 miles and the journey,
whether undertaken in summer or winter, is one of the severest. The map
gives one the idea that it might almost be accomplished by ascending
the river Aldan and one of its affluents to the Stanovoi mountains. The
usual plan, however, is to leave Yakutsk on horseback, with all the
luggage on pack-saddles. Some estimate may be formed of the traffic
once passing on this route from the fact that there were formerly
employed in it from 20,000 to 30,000 horses. The postal service is
still continued between Irkutsk and the Sea of Okhotsk; but there is no
telegraph; hence the fact of Professor Nordenskiöld having been frozen
in the ice on the north-east coast of Siberia was brought a long way by
courier before it could be made known by telegram to Europe.

One of the difficulties of the winter journey is the insufficient
sleeping accommodation on the route. The houses, when they exist, are
very bad, and when they fail, travellers sleep in a tent, or else
upon furs and wraps in the open air. They usually lie, however, by
a roaring fire, and so roast on one side whilst they freeze on the
other--changing their position when need requires.

After proceeding for some distance the traveller has to exchange
his horse for a novel kind of steed--a reindeer, on which the mere
gaining of one’s seat, to say nothing of keeping it, is by no means
so easy as might be supposed.[7] Having gained his reindeer seat,
the English traveller may keep it--if he can. He will most likely
fall off half-a-dozen times in the first quarter of an hour, until he
discovers that he must poise himself in such a manner that his body
may continually, and with ease, lend itself to a swinging motion.[8]
There is a second lesson to be learned by the uninitiated, which is
usually imparted in a very impressive manner; for should the cavalier
attempt to hold with the knees, and the cushion consequently slip back,
the moment the weight is felt on the animal’s back, he bends under his
haunches and lets the rider slip to the ground, and that perhaps in
ice, snow, or a pool of water.

As the traveller approaches Okhotsk he has again to change his mode of
conveyance, to be drawn this time by dogs. All three methods of travel
have their delights on this lonely journey, the tedium of which is
sometimes relieved by an extemporary hunting scene.[9]

The difficulties of the summer journey are somewhat different in
character. A large part of the way lies over swampy ground, on which
the causeways are not kept in repair, and where the horses flounder in
mud and water, into which they occasionally pitch the rider. It is no
uncommon thing for horses to die under the fatigues of the way. The
Yakutes, moreover, have a cruel fashion of giving their horses little
food whilst journeying. A similar custom obtains farther east, among
the Gilyaks, where I found that, though they gave a dog two pieces
of fish daily when at home, yet, when travelling, they gave him only
one, because the dogs immediately after eating are always lazy and
feeble.[10]

These, then, are some of the difficulties of the old route, from
Irkutsk to the Pacific, which happily it did not fall to my lot to be
obliged to encounter; but I crossed the Baikal instead, and, after
making a _détour_ to the Chinese frontier, continued across the Buriat
steppe to the Amur.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] It is bounded on the north by the Arctic Ocean, on the west by
the Yeneseisk, and on the east by the Sea-coast provinces; whilst on
its south lie the three provinces of Irkutsk, Trans-Baikal, and the
Amur. The northern and western portions of the province are flat, but
towards the south and south-east are the Yablonoi and Stanovoi mountain
ranges, continuations, in a north-easterly direction, of the mighty
Altai chain. The great river of the province is the Lena, whose waters
are drained from an area of 800,000 square miles. From the slopes on
the western side of Baikal its upper portion runs in a north-easterly
direction as far as Yakutsk, after which the Lower Lena runs due north
to the Arctic Ocean. The total length of the river is about 2,500
miles, with a fall of 3,000 feet. East of the Lower Lena are the
rivers Yana, Indigirka, and Kolima, all of which are navigable and
of considerable size, though small by comparison with their gigantic
sister.

[2] There are, says M. Réclus, nearly 50 species of fur animals, and
millions of specimens killed during the hunting season. The annual
export of furs from Siberia, not including those taken from sea
animals, represents a gross value of nearly half a million sterling.
The fur which regulates the price of all others is that of the sable,
which is worth at least from 16_s._ to £1, and sometimes commands, even
in Siberia, as much as £6 a skin. Only the back of the animal is used
for the best garments, one of which may contain 80 skins, and rise
to the value of nearly £500. The fur of the black fox is still more
appreciated, and a single skin sometimes fetches £30. Squirrel skins by
themselves constitute about a third of the Siberian revenue from furs;
ten, twelve, and even fifteen millions of these animals being killed
during their migrations in a single year. China receives a considerable
number of these skins at Kiakhta, but more find their way to Europe.
The furs brought to the fair of Irbit in the Urals in 1876 were as
follows:--

Grey squirrels 5,000,000 skins
Ermines 215,000 ”
Hares 300,000 ”
Foxes 82,000 ”
Martens of various kinds 750,000 ”
Sables 12,000 ”
Others 200,000 ”

[3] It is well known that in the northern parts of Siberia the ground
is always frost-bound, but to what depth is not so easily determined.
During the stay, however, of Mr. Erman at Yakutsk it happened that a
resident was digging a well, down which the man of science went, and
pronounced that he found the soil frozen to a depth of 50 feet below
the surface. So accustomed, however, do the natives become to the
cold, that with the thermometer at unheard-of degrees below freezing
point, the Yakute women, with bare arms, stand in the open-air markets,
chattering and joking as pleasantly as if in genial spring. Inside
their houses, in the heated part of the rooms, they get the temperature
up to 65° or 75°; but one day, when the thermometer stood at 9°, Mr.
Erman found the children of both sexes running about quite naked, not
only in the house, but even in the open air. In fact, the great cold is
not thought a grievance in Siberia, for a man clothed in furs may sleep
at night in an open sledge when the mercury freezes in the thermometer;
and, wrapped up in his pelisse, he can lie without inconvenience on the
snow under a thin tent when the temperature of the air is 30° below
zero.

[4] I was told by a legal authority that some of the political exiles
are sent to the province of Yakutsk, but, after the figures just
quoted, it would seem that their number cannot be very large; of
hereditary nobles in the province there were said to be, in 1876, only
100, and of personal nobles only 450. If, then, there be deducted from
these the Governor and his staff, military officers, and tchinovniks of
all grades, there would not be left a large margin for the class from
which political exiles are thought to come, supposing, that is, that
they are included in this return.

[5] Strahlenberg divides them into 10 tribes, and Syboreen’s Almanack
for 1876 gives their number at 210,000. They belong to the great Turk
family, and hence their Siberian locality is remarkable, because the
Turks have ever been the people to displace others, whereas the Yakutes
have been themselves displaced, and driven into this inhospitable
climate, it is supposed, by the stronger Buriats.

[6] The iron ore of the Vilui was smelted by the Yakutes long before
the advent of the Russians, and the other tribes got from them iron
axes, awls, and tools for stripping and dressing hides. The Yakutes
also make copper ornaments for clothes and harness, and the metal
plates which they sew on their girdles. Even now, although they use
European guns, they still make for themselves the great knife, or
dagger, which is worn at the waist. The Yakutsk steel is more flexible
than the Russian, and yet blades made of it will cut copper or pewter
as easily as European blades.

[7] To get on the animal’s _back_, as one would mount a donkey, would
probably cripple the deer for life. The saddle is therefore placed on
its shoulder close to the neck, and to mount, the rider, holding the
bridle, stands at the right side of the animal, with his face turned
forwards. He then raises his left foot to the saddle, which he never
touches with his hands, and springing with the right leg, and aided
also by a pole, which he holds in his right hand, he gains his seat.
The native girls and women are as expert in this jumping as the men,
and rarely want assistance in mounting.

[8] The practised reindeer riders acquire the habit of striking
gently with the heel, alternately right and left, at every step, just
behind the animal’s shoulders. This is done, not for the purpose of
stimulating the deer, but because the motion described is the surest
means of maintaining equilibrium. The staff, too, with which the rider
mounts is carried in his hand, and is used for maintaining an equipoise
in riding; but any attempt of the rider, in the first critical moment,
to support himself by resting the staff on the ground, is sure to end
in his being unseated.

[9] Mr. Erman describes the killing, during his journey, of a wild
sheep, and the joy of the Yakutes at the prospect of getting fresh
meat for supper. One of them cried out characteristically, “I will
stay awake the whole night, and eat till we set out.” Whilst the
carcase was being prepared, every one cut for himself some thin wooden
skewers, on which he spitted a row of little bits of meat. These were
only appetizers, to be followed by large pieces boiled in the pot. The
hunter, however, who had killed the sheep claimed as his perquisite the
animal’s head; the brains, as a special delicacy, he sucked out raw,
and cut out the eyes to be dressed for his own exclusive benefit.

[10] It does not appear that the Yakutes are otherwise cruel to their
horses, for Erman relates that, on going up to a horse that had carried
him many miles, to pat his neck by way of saying adieu, the Yakutes
came up and embraced the other horses, putting their arms round their
necks and hugging them like children. Mr. Hill, too, discovered in a
very practical way the regard of the Yakutes for their horses, when,
food having run short, and after a dinner of only cranberries and nuts,
he proposed that one of the animals should be killed and eaten, the
Yakutes replied that they never killed one of their horses until they
had passed five whole days together without any sort of food. It would
be a shame, they said, that while they had tea and a morsel of sugar,
and the prospect before them of getting other food, one of the poor
creatures should be slain. Mr. Hill, therefore, and his merchant friend
had to take their guns and hunt for game, with a keenness which they
had never known before.

CHAPTER XXVI.

_ACROSS LAKE BAIKAL TO TROITZKOSAVSK._

Leaving Irkutsk.--The Angara.--Approach to the Baikal.--Its shores and
fish.--Steaming across.--Seizing post-horses.--Arrival at Verchne
Udinsk.--Smuggling at the prison.--Arrival at Selenginsk.--English
mission to Buriats.--English graves.--Old scholars.--Story of the
mission.--Journey to Troitzkosavsk.

We left Irkutsk on Thursday, July 10th, after a stay that could hardly
be called enjoyable, though amid the confusion we met with much more
consideration than could have been expected. For the first night we
slept, as already stated, in our tarantass, and I took my morning bath
in the pantry. What a treat, too, was that bath, deliciously cold from
the Angara, to a man who had not taken his clothes off for more than
a week! During our stay we made the acquaintance of several officers,
of whom there is no lack at Irkutsk, as there are usually in barracks
about 2,000 troops. It was very difficult to procure provisions. On
sending out on the morning of our departure, all the white bread
that could be found was one penny loaf, and that somewhat stale. It
seemed, therefore, that I should have to come down to rye bread; but
some pancakes were made for me, the difficulty was thus surmounted,
and by two o’clock we had fairly begun our 300 miles to Kiakhta. Our
baggage and remaining books were still too heavy to be taken on the
same vehicle, and we therefore stowed away ourselves and our personal
effects in the tarantass, and the boxes followed in a post-conveyance,
out of which they were changed at every station. We wished to make only
40 miles before night, to Lake Baikal, and then wait till morning at
Listvenitznaya for the steamer.

We had not proceeded far before we drove along the banks of the Angara,
which is, in some respects, the most remarkable river in Siberia.
There are scores of streams and rivulets running into Lake Baikal, of
which the more important are the Upper Angara, the Barguzin, and the
Selenga; but the Angara is the only one that runs out, and it does so
with such impetuosity that the rapid by which the water leaves the
lake never freezes even with the temperature of the air at 24° below
zero; and though the ice is six feet thick on the lake, yet, all the
winter through, ducks float on the bosom of the rapid. I have heard it
suggested that there may be hot-springs just there; but whether this
is so or not, the waters of the lake and the Angara are particularly
cold.[1]

Shortly after leaving Irkutsk the road enters a wooded part of the
Angara valley, and as the road winds along it, many points are passed
presenting magnificent views. In some parts enormous sandstone cliffs
arise out of the water, crowned with dark pines and cedars; in others
the thick forest descends to the river’s brink, and the broad sheet
of water is seen rushing madly onwards. Afterwards the valley becomes
more rugged, with deep ravines running up into the mountains. Beyond
this the road has been cut along the edge of a cliff at a considerable
height above the river, and, about five miles before reaching the
Baikal, a scene is presented that may well cause the traveller to stop.
The valley becomes wider, and the mountains rise abruptly to a much
greater elevation. The Angara is here more than a mile in width, and
this great body of water is seen rolling down a steep incline, forming
a rapid nearly four miles in length. At the head of this, and in the
centre of the stream, a great mass of rock rises, called the _Shaman
Kamen_, or “Priest,” or “spirit’s stone,” held sacred by the followers
of Shamanism, and not to be passed by them without an act of devotion.
When Shamanism prevailed in this neighbourhood, human sacrifices were
made at the sacred rock, the victim with his hands tied being tossed
into the torrent below. Beyond is the broad expanse of the Baikal,
extending about 50 miles, to where its waves wash the foot of Amar
Daban, whose summit, even in June, is usually covered with snow. The
mighty torrent throwing up its jets of spray, the rugged rocks with
their fringes of pendent birch overtopped by lofty pines, and the
colouring on the mountains, produce a picture of extraordinary beauty
and grandeur. A few miles further, and the Baikal is seen spreading out
like a sea, and its waves are heard beating on the rocky shore.

The storms on the lake are very severe. They say, at Irkutsk, it is
only upon the Baikal in the autumn that a man learns to pray from his
heart. The most dangerous wind is the north-west. It is called the
mountain wind, whilst that from the south-west is called the “_deep_
sea-breeze.” Formerly, in crossing, it was no uncommon occurrence
for a boat or barge to be detained three weeks on a voyage of 40
miles, without being able to land on either shore. This induced an
enterprising merchant to have a hull built on the lake, and engines,
boiler, and machinery brought 4,000 miles overland from Petersburg;
and when the new vessel steamed across in a gale, both Siberians and
Mongols looked on with not a little astonishment.[2]

The fish of the Baikal are abundant, and are caught in variety, such as
the _omullé_, somewhat like the herring; the _suig_, which resembles
but is smaller than the sturgeon; the _askina_, the pike, the carp, the
_lavaret_, and a white fish called the _tymain_. Travellers also tell
of a remarkable fish called the _golomain_, which is only seen when
thrown on shore during a violent tempest, and is of so oily a nature
that it melts in the sun, or on the approach of heat, leaving only its
skeleton and skin. It is a remarkable fact also that the seal of the
ocean is found in the lake. About 2,000 are killed yearly.

The natives call the lake _Svyatoe More_, the “Holy Sea,” and aver
that no one was ever lost in its waters; for when a person is drowned
therein, the waves invariably throw his body on shore. It must be a
pleasant sensation to cross this lake in winter. The ice is as clear,
transparent, and as smooth as glass, so that travellers describe
the difficulty of realizing that they are not gliding on water. The
journey across is made in a remarkably short time. Mr. Erman travelled
thus 7 German miles (or 27 English) in 2¼ hours, which for horse
travelling must be allowed to be extraordinary. Formerly there was a
winter station on the ice, half-way across, for changing horses; but
as the ice on one occasion gave way, and allowed the whole concern to
disappear, they now cross the lake at a single stage. There is a road
round the south end of the lake, but in summer the crossing by steamer
is usually preferred.

We reached the station about six or eight hours after leaving Irkutsk,
and, passing the night at a rough hotel, next morning got our tarantass
on board, among half-a-dozen others, and steamed across. The steamer
was called the _General Korsakoff_. It made a loud grunting, and out of
its tall chimney emitted a cloud of sparks like the tail of a comet.
I went below to see the engines, and found them of the most primitive
kind--a huge boiler simply laid in a wooden hull. I offered for sale on
board some of my books, and gave others away. This soon got me friends,
and the engineer honoured me by playing a tune on his concertina. I
went also into the captain’s cabin, and he was glad to buy some New
Testaments. It was so chilly, however, on deck that I put on my ulster,
and stowed myself away in the tarantass; after doing which, on the 11th
of July, it was not difficult to believe what I had heard, that pigeons
flying across the lake in winter sometimes drop dead from cold.

As we drew near to the shore, we had the enjoyment of a mild piece of
something like revenge. I have already observed that the traveller who
has a crown podorojna takes precedence; but if two travellers come
to a station, _both_ having crown podorojnas, he who arrives first
takes the horses. Moreover, “the rule of the road” is that one set of
post-horses must not outstrip one that has started before; which rule,
however, an extra tip to the yemstchik will sometimes evade. Now, as
we came towards Irkutsk, we had been outstripped by a military officer
travelling with his wife, who took the fresh horses we should have had;
so that, when we arrived, it was feared we should be without. Whereupon
the officer’s wife, addressing me in French, asked half-triumphantly,
and half in a mischievous joke, whether I did not find myself “without
horses”? She happened, however, to be wrong. We obtained horses, and,
at night, overtook our friends, broken down, with their tarantass
undergoing repairs at another station. We therefore got ahead, till, on
the Baikal, they overtook us again. We saw at a glance that there would
be a rush for horses, and, therefore, immediately the boat touched, I
sprang ashore, presented to the post-master my podorojna, and secured
my team; whereas the officer, not knowing that I had more than an
ordinary civilian’s paper, or relying, perhaps, upon the power of his
crown podorojna, was not so quick, and failed to get his steeds; and as
we rolled away we heard him storming at the post-master for allowing us
to have them before he had been served.

We drove for some distance on an elevated plateau beside the eastern
shore of the lake, from which we got many good views of its waters,
and where we observed at the roadside red Turk’s-head lilies, similar
to but smaller than those seen in English gardens, and yellow lilies.
There were likewise in the neighbourhood abundance of strawberries,
raspberries, and whortleberries. Among the trees were cedars up to 120
feet in height; also the balsam poplar, which here attains a growth
sufficiently large to allow the natives of the coast to make their
canoes of a single log; likewise the cherry-tree and the Siberian
apple. A black and white jackdaw, as my companion called it, made its
appearance; and the birds of prey appeared more numerous, as they well
might be in the vicinity of a larger animal population; for in these
Baikal forests are found martens, squirrels, foxes, wolves, the lynx,
the elk, the wild boar, and the bear--the last feeding on berries in
summer, and on cedar-nuts raked up from beneath the snow in winter.

Having taken the lead on the road from the Baikal, we were anxious to
keep it, though things looked threatening on arriving at the first
station, where the post-master said there were no horses. We brought
our crown podorojna to bear, and then the letter of the Minister at
Petersburg, but to no purpose. There were no post-horses, he said,
though there was a man standing near who would lend us private horses
at double fares. To this we should have had to agree, but we pulled
out lastly our _blanco_ letter, and this gained the day; for the
post-master, on seeing that, said to the would-be extortioner, “You
must let them have the horses”; and so on we trotted through a country
more hilly than anything we had passed, till at six o’clock we arrived
at Verchne Udinsk. This place might very well be called “the Amur and
China Junction,” for to turn to the left brings the traveller to the
Pacific, and to turn to the right leads to Peking.

It was now Saturday afternoon, and we were anxious to get on, if
possible, a few stations further, to Selenginsk, which was the scene
of the labours of some English missionaries, and there to spend the
Sunday to inquire about their work. The old difficulty of horses,
however, cropped up, for they could let us have none on the instant,
and every one was on tiptoe expecting the passing through of the
Governor-General, Baron Friedrichs. I have already mentioned that his
Excellency was at some mineral springs on the Mongolian frontier, and,
having heard of the fire at Irkutsk, he was now returning. Everything,
therefore, had to be in readiness. The post-house was swept and
garnished, and we were requested not to go into the large guest-room,
where the tables and chairs were arranged for his Excellency’s visit.
Horses, however, were promised quickly as a favour, and meanwhile we
strolled into the town.

Verchne--that is, Upper--Udinsk is the capital of an uyezd, and has a
population of 3,500. It is a clean little town, and, upon entering the
market square, it was easy to see that we were approaching the borders
of the Celestial Empire--for here was John Chinaman, with open shop,
standing behind the counter selling tea. We found also, to our great
satisfaction, a baker’s shop, where was not only white bread, but all
manner of bake-meats, of which we proceeded to make havoc then and
there. The white bread was 75 per cent. dearer than at Tobolsk, but I
was only too thankful to get a store at any price, my pancakes being
all but gone. For lemonade they asked 6_s._ a bottle, or 6_d._ a glass.
It was like watered lemon syrup. Fresh butter cost a rouble a pound,
and was obtained with difficulty.

There is a prison in Verchne Udinsk, which we passed at the side
of the road, and the prisoners were looking from the windows. Here
had recently occurred an incident illustrative of Goryantchikoff’s
statement, in his “Buried Alive,” that some of his fellow-prisoners
were spirit-dealers, and frequently smuggled liquor into the prison
in the entrails of cows or oxen. For this purpose the entrails were
washed and filled with water, to keep them damp and ready to receive
the liquor. When filled, they were wound by the smuggler round his body
and thighs, and so brought into the prison. On the afternoon of our
arrival, a drunken woman had been detected thus carrying in _vodka_. We
did not visit the building, but left with the Ispravnik half-a-dozen
New Testaments, and the same number or Gospels for Tatars, and of
Scripture portions in Mongolian. The present was not unappreciated,
for the Ispravnik, learning that I was going to the far east, gave me
an introduction to his son-in-law at Blagovestchensk, which afterwards
proved useful.

At last we started, and trotted on through the night to Selenginsk,
and spent there the remainder of the following day. We called on the
Ispravnik, who, with his wife, received us politely; and the latter,
finding that we had good books to dispose of, wished to purchase some,
which I allowed her to do to the value of three roubles. We also asked
the Ispravnik’s acceptance of some portions of Scripture in Mongolian
for distribution among the surrounding Buriats. Then conversation
followed about the English mission, of which Selenginsk was for 13
years the head-quarters, but ceased to be so about 40 years ago.

The Ispravnik had nothing to say of the missionaries but what was good
and kind,--a repetition of what I had heard elsewhere. A house, he told
us, was still standing on the spot where the missionaries lived, and
he furnished us with the names of persons who could give us further
information. We went, therefore, direct to the site of the mission
station, where we found some out-buildings, very much like those of an
English farmyard, and strongly suggestive of home. There was also a
nice house, which had been built near the spot on which formerly stood
the one inhabited by the Englishmen. The garden remained, and in it we
were taken to a walled enclosure--a little graveyard--in which were
five graves: those of Mrs. Yule, Mrs. Stallybrass, and three children.
The place had been recently renovated, at the expense of a missionary
in China, and we were pleased to see the resting-place of our
compatriots looking so neat and orderly. The garden commanded a pretty
view of the valley of the Selenga, and there was pointed out across
the river the site on which the town stood in the early part of the
century, till, being destroyed by fire, it was rebuilt on the opposite
side. The lady who occupied the house told us that now and then a
traveller turns aside to see the spot, and that the ignorant people say
that the English people come out of their graves at night--a report she
is at no pains to contradict, on the plea that, as the house is in a
lonely position, the idea may conduce to protect her from thieves.

After having been shown what there was of interest about the place,
we called on an old man--a Russian--named Ivlampi Melnikoff, who,
in his boyhood, had attended the mission school. When he heard that
one of the missionaries, Mr. Stallybrass, was still living, and that
I had seen him just before leaving England, he seemed much pleased,
and spoke with affection of his teachers. He had not opened a book
for 40 years, and so had forgotten how to read, but he remembered,
and inquired particularly for, some of the missionaries’ sons, and
sent to them his respects. The old man had lost sight of his Buriat
schoolfellows, and thought that not one of them became a Christian,
though he afterwards remembered that one was baptized into the Russian
Church. Besides this old Russian we saw the nephew of one who had been
a pupil in the school, and heard of an old man living some 35 versts
distant, still a Buriat, who, as a boy, had been a scholar. We had the
same testimony from both witnesses, that has been repeated by several
travellers, that the missionaries did not baptize a single convert.
None of them, however, said what I did not know until I returned to
England, and spoke to Mr. Stallybrass upon the subject, namely, that
the missionaries were under agreement with the Russian Government _not_
to baptize any converts.[3]

We continued our journey from Selenginsk for twelve hours more, through
a country which gave me my first experience of a Russian steppe, a
tract of undulating land with a sandy soil, covered with a little grass
and a reedy-looking herb, but suffering from a lack of humidity, as the
tundra suffers from lack of warmth. Trees were visible only here and
there, but water was abundant, sometimes in large lakes; so that the
hilly roads, the expanse of water, and the treeless waste, reminded me
sometimes of the scenery of our Wiltshire downs, and, in one or two
places, of the English lakes. As we approached our destination the road
became more and more sandy, and very heavy for the horses; but at last,
on Monday, the 14th July, we reached Kiakhta.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] As we approached Telma my thermometer at noon in the shade stood
at 85°, and when crossing a stream called the Ija, the temperature of
the water was 70°; but coming on the same day to the Angara, nearly 100
miles from Baikal, the temperature of the river was only 50°; and when
crossing the Baikal itself, the atmosphere registered 45° and the water
only 40°. The Angara is the last river in Siberia to close, which it
does about New Year’s Day (sometimes not till the middle of January);
and the first to open, namely, about the 11th April. The lake is 1,200
feet above the sea level, and the current of the river is remarkably
swift, as the traveller will infer should he overtake a barge being
towed against the stream by perhaps 20 horses. Though the distance is
only 40 miles from Irkutsk, a barge takes three days to be dragged up
to the rapid, and then for the rapid itself it requires another day,
even with double the number of horses. This refers, however, to a large
_soudno_, or vessel, with a bluff bow and broad stern, which might
almost as well sail sideways as speed ahead, and usually carries 600
chests and 25,000 bricks of tea.

[2] The basin of the lake is about 400 miles in length and 35 miles in
width, covering an area of 14,000 square miles. It has a circumference
of nearly 1,200 miles. This, therefore, is the _largest fresh-water
lake_ in the Old World; and, next to the Caspian and the Aral, is the
largest inland sheet of water in Asia. Several travellers have crossed
the lake _en route_ from or to Irkutsk, but Mr. Atkinson did more. He
spent several days exploring its coasts, and, turning to the east from
Listvenitznaya, he found the shore became exceedingly abrupt for 20
miles, with many striking scenes, in which waterfalls played a part.
The north shore is the most lofty. In some parts the precipices rise
900 feet, and, a little beyond the Arga, to 1,200 feet. Basaltic cliffs
also appear rising from deep water to an elevation of 700 feet. A
little more than a boat’s length from shore, soundings have been taken
to the depth of 900 feet. Greater depths than this, however, have been
reached. The captain of the steamer informed Mr. Atkinson that on one
occasion he had run out 2,100 feet of line without finding bottom;
and in 1872 soundings were taken at the south-west end, showing 3,600
feet: hence the common saying that the Baikal has no bottom. The shore
exhibits, besides the basalt just named, other unquestionable evidences
of volcanic action, and in some of the ravines are great masses of
lava. Hot mineral springs likewise exist in several parts of the
surrounding mountain-chain.

[3] The story of the mission seemed to be this:--At the beginning of
the present century there were four parties of foreign Protestant
missionaries working in the Russian dominions, namely, (1) the
Presbyterians, in the south of European Russia; (2) the Moravians, on
the Volga; (3) some Swiss missionaries from Basle, who took the place
of the Presbyterians, and worked upon their ground; and (4) the London
Missionary Society, which was allowed to send men to the Buriats in
Siberia. Among the last company were Messrs. Stallybrass, Swan, and
Yule, who saw at once that the first thing to be done was to translate
the Scriptures. Mr. Stallybrass left England in 1817, and lived in
Irkutsk for a year and a half to learn the Mongolian language. In due
time the translation was commenced, from the original Hebrew and Greek,
and with such success did the work go on that they actually printed
the Old Testament in their Siberian wilderness at Verchne Udinsk,
to which place the missionaries removed from Selenginsk, and where
they remained till they were sent home in 1840. The New Testament was
printed in London. Their work was, therefore, of a preparatory and
fundamental, rather than an aggressive, character. Nevertheless, they
had a school, numbering, sometimes, from 15 to 20 scholars; but there
was found a special difficulty in inducing children to attend, for not
only were their parents utterly ignorant of the value of education,
but they wanted the children to help them tend their flocks, grazing,
not on settled pasturage, but as they wandered over the vast extent
of the Trans-Baikal and the Mongolian steppes. Hence the children
were at school to-day and gone to-morrow; and even when parents could
be induced to leave their children with the missionaries during
their own absence with their flocks, these children had to be kept
and fed as boarders, and even then the parents begrudged the loss of
their services. The object, however, of the Englishmen began to be
appreciated, and tokens of success appeared. Then came the difficulty
which all along had loomed in the distance. The Russian Synod, in
its jealousy for its own Church, had expressly stipulated that the
missionaries should receive no converts by baptism, and this had been
agreed to, and, of course, kept. But when certain of the Buriats showed
signs of having received the truth, in the love of it, the missionaries
found themselves in a dilemma. The Russians wished the converts to be
handed over for baptism to their Church, and, on these terms, were
willing that the English should stay and work as hard as they pleased;
but this did not satisfy the men, nor the committee of the London
Missionary Society, and neither party was disposed to give way. About
this time, however, great political changes had taken place. Alexander
I., who favoured Christian missions, had died, and was succeeded by
the iron Nicolas, who does not seem to have been particularly opposed
to missions; but the Synod was jealous of foreign interference, and
an occasion was found for dismissing all foreign missionaries from
the Russian dominions, under the pretext that the Synod wished to do
all its own mission work for its own heathen. The Imperial ukase to
this effect was issued in 1840, and thus a mission was stopped whose
foundations were laid by the English, and which produced a translation
of the whole Bible printed in Buriat Mongolian. It had taught some few
scholars of great promise, one of whom, at least, named Shagder, it was
known (and probably many more did so unknown), was afterwards baptized
into the Russian Church. How far the Russian missionaries among this
people owe any portion of their success to the foundation thus laid I
cannot say. Of the Russian mission I shall speak hereafter.

CHAPTER XXVII.

_THE SIBERIAN FRONTIER AT KIAKHTA._

Hospitable reception.--History of Kiakhta.--Treaties between
Russians and Chinese.--Early trading.--Decline of commerce.--The
tea trade.--Troitzkosavsk church.--Miraculous ikons.--Kiakhta
church.--Russian churches in general.--Bells.--Valuable
ikons.--Climate of Kiakhta.--Drive to Ust-Keran.

I have said in the previous chapter that we reached Kiakhta. It would
have been more accurate to have said Troitzkosavsk, which is within
sight of and may be called a suburb of Kiakhta, situated on the
Siberian frontier. Here we were lodged, for by the terms of a treaty
between Chinese and Russians, no officer or stranger may sleep in
Kiakhta proper. On arriving, we learned, to our dismay, that there
was no hotel or guest-house in either town. We therefore went to the
office of the Ispravnik, and in his absence showed our documents,
which served so far to establish our respectability, that we were told
we might have accommodation at the police-station. For this offer of
course we were grateful, but, before accepting it, we thought we would
present some of our letters of introduction. One was addressed to Mr.
Tokmakoff, a first-class merchant in the place; but he was away in
Mongolia, and his wife and family were living at their summer house
“in the country.” We had another letter, given me by Mr. Larsen, the
telegraphist at Irkutsk, to Mr. Koecher, the principal of the _real_
or commercial school, who lived in one of the best houses of the town,
and who, upon our presenting the letter, immediately pressed us to take
up our abode with him. We were only too thankful to do so, and, after a
fortnight’s inconveniences in sleeping, to find ourselves in quarters
with proper and comfortable beds. Our host was living bachelor fashion,
and was expecting to leave shortly for Petersburg; his wife had already
preceded him. He spared no pains to make us comfortable, and, being
thus settled, we had time to look about the place, which, on leaving
England, had been the utmost bound to which my travelling imagination
had carried me. The Mohammedans say, “See Mecca and expire”; the
Italians, “See Naples and die”; and in somewhat of the same spirit I
had fixed upon Kiakhta as the _ultima thule_ of my Siberian wanderings:
not that there is much that is remarkable in the physical aspect of the
place, but from Kiakhta one walks out of Siberia into China and sees
the blue hills of Mongolia. The town, moreover, has a history, and was
the scene of a treaty between the two largest empires in the world.

So far back as the 17th century, trade was carried on, though not
protected by Government, between the Siberians and their southern
neighbours the Chinese.[1]

But in 1692 a treaty was made at Nertchinsk, opening the way to regular
and permanent commerce between the two countries, though subject to
certain vexatious forms and restrictions. Subsequently Peter the Great,
seeing the advantage of this treaty, desired that the privilege of
trading with China, then confined to individuals, should be extended
to caravans; and, the Emperor approving, the right of trading thus was
appropriated as a monopoly by the Russian Crown.

So things went on till 1722, when, the Russians offending their
celestial neighbours, the Chinese Emperor expelled all Muscovites from
his dominions, and brought trading affairs to a standstill. Six years
later the treaty of Kiakhta was concluded, which stipulated that a
caravan of not more than 200 persons should visit Peking every three
years, and that the subjects of each nation, though not allowed to
cross the frontier with their wares, might dispose of them to each
other at two places on the border--Kiakhta, and Tsurukhaitu on the
Argun, about 60 miles from Nertchinsk. This led to the foundation of
the town of Kiakhta; and as there were certain conditions in the treaty
limiting the number of persons, and imposing various restrictions upon
those who should live there, another town was built a mile off, and
called Troitzkosavsk, in which these restrictions were evaded.[2]

The traveller of to-day does not see Kiakhta as it was in palmy times,
though a considerable trade is still carried on between China and
Eastern Siberia, and large consignments are sent to Nijni Novgorod and
Moscow. The tradition is still kept up that the sea passage injures
the flavour of the herb, and that caravan tea is the best, which
commands, accordingly, prices up to ten shillings per pound. I have
heard quite recently of “yellow” tea, which even at Kiakhta costs this
sum, and which, brought overland, would probably command in Petersburg
16_s._ or 18_s._ per pound. One hears also in Russia of “blossom” tea,
which consists of only the dried flowers of the tea plant, and of
other choice growths, the best of which are not brought to England at
all. There is one kind of yellow tea, I am told, costing as much as
five guineas a pound. The Emperor of China is supposed to enjoy its
monopoly. A friend of mine, who received a few pounds as a present,
tells me she did not think it distinguishable from that sold at 5_s._ a
pound. Blossom tea is well known throughout Russia, and is mixed in the
proportion of two-ounces to one pound of ordinary tea.[3]

In addition to ordinary and superior sorts, the Russians import,
chiefly for consumption by the military and native populations, immense
quantities of tea pressed into the form of tablets, or bricks, each
of which weighs about 2 lbs. These bricks are made of tea-dust mixed
with a common coarse sort made of twigs, stalks, and tea refuse, the
whole being first submitted for a minute to the action of steam and
then pressed into a mould. Some say that bullocks’ or other blood is
also mixed with brick tea, but I have not heard this corroborated. The
tea-dust used for brick tea costs in China about 5_d._ per pound, the
manufacture about 1½_d._ more, and the article bears a handsome profit.
In 1878 the Russian manufacturers in China were said to have realized
a profit of 75 per cent. This they cannot do, however, all the year
round, for the making of the bricks goes on only from the middle of
June to the end of September, during which season they work at it night
and day.

Apart, however, from the trade which passes over the Siberian frontier,
there is much in Kiakhta and Troitzkosavsk to interest the western
traveller. Among other novelties are to be seen Mongolian cavalry
dashing about the streets, the soldiers being known mainly by a piece
of ribbon streaming from their hats. The united population of the two
places amounts to nearly 5,000, who are supplied with provisions by
both Russians and Chinese. There may be seen coming from their farms
and gardens numbers of peasant wagons, as well as clumsy Mongolian
carts, the latter on wheels without spokes, formed of large wooden
discs, which oxen cause to wabble along. Common vegetables are to be
had in abundance. A large square in the centre of Troitzkosavsk is used
for a corn and hay market, and is provided in Russian fashion with a
huge pair of scales sanctioned by the authorities. Here the vendors of
agricultural and garden produce assemble, and generally manage to get
rid of their stock and garden produce early in the day. Young chickens
cost 4_d._ each, lemons in winter 1_s._ a-piece, and occasionally even
double that price, and Cognac brandy 9_s._ per bottle. Troitzkosavsk
is also supplied with excellent fish, but we found it difficult to get
good fruit. Besides the market square at Troitzkosavsk, there are two
public gardens at Kiakhta, and also a cemetery.

We went to the small prison, and found it a poor affair. The
police-master told us he had received a letter concerning our intended
visit long before, and had been expecting us. Where the information
came from he did not say; but it served to remind us again that, though
more than 4,000 miles from the capital, we were not lost sight of.
This was the last place at which I heard of our coming having been
announced beforehand, though a general at Petersburg had told me that
I might usually expect this; for how, said he, are the Governors to
whom your letter is addressed to know that your document is not forged
unless they are advised that a letter has been given you? and then, to
illustrate his remark, he said that, on one occasion, a man, dressed
like a gendarme, presented himself at Irkutsk with a forged letter and
got a prisoner released.

I may add to the foregoing that Kiakhta was the last, and almost the
only, place other than Petersburg where symptoms of a disaffected or
revolutionary spirit came under my notice; and this in the solitary
instance, that when an educated man in the town was shown in an English
newspaper a portrait of Vera Sassulitch, the would-be murderess of
Trepoff, I heard that he admired and praised her. As for Nihilism, I
heard, in crossing Russia, so little about it that I am ashamed to say
I left the country with very vague ideas as to what it is. I am not
sure that I know much about it now, but an Englishman who has spent
a large portion of his life in Russia and Siberia tells me there are
various kinds of Nihilists. The mildest type, if they can be called
such, simply want free speech and a free press, as do, I am told, all
the “Slavophils”; the next wish for a ministry responsible to the
people; but both these classes (which are supposed to be numerous)
think the time not yet come, and that they must wait for further
enlightenment of the people. With this opinion my friend agreed,
feeling sure that at present the educated Russian and the moujik would
quarrel, he said, if one were dependent on the other. The third class
are the “black” Nihilists, who want the dethronement of the reigning
dynasty and a republic, and who are willing to adopt any means, even
the most criminal, to gain their end.

Of all this and its like I heard next to nothing after leaving
Petersburg; there, however, great excitement prevailed. I arrived
only a few days after one of the attempts on the late Emperor’s life,
and a friend called to tell me they were at their wits’ end to know
what to do. Turning back his coat collar, he showed me sewn thereon
the certified badge of his calling, so placed that it might be ready
to show the police, if required, at a moment’s notice. The English,
he said, were strongly suspected, and he doubted whether he should be
safe in affording me his usual protection and kindly services. He had
told one of his Russian friends that I had arrived in the country for
the purpose of distributing books and tracts, but the Russian did not
believe that I could be come for such a charitable object, but thought
I must be sent by the English Government. The rumours afloat respecting
the English were both numerous and ridiculous. The authorities had not
then succeeded in finding the press from which were issued the Nihilist
placards and papers, and, as the ambassadors’ residences are privileged
places, supposed to be closed against the police, it was affirmed that
the secret press must be there. My friend told me he heard it said
that “proclamations” against the Russian Government could be bought
at the English Embassy for a rouble each. Another rumour said that
the Russians were persuaded that the centre of the revolution was in
the English Embassy, and that they had even thought of setting fire
thereto, with the hope of securing, in the confusion, the revolutionary
papers. I smiled on hearing this, and concluded that it could be
only the most ignorant of the people who believed such puerilities,
but on repeating it as a joke to a Russian fellow-traveller from
Moscow, he said he quite believed that the forbidden press was in the
Ambassador’s house, and that the revolutionists obtained their money
from the English Government. I heard, too, in Petersburg that it was
thought by the lower orders that the Nihilists obtained a large portion
of their funds from the “International” in England.

All this smoke and rumour, however, we left behind on quitting Moscow,
and though we may perchance have been watched, I was never conscious
of it. I mention this because as some were surprised at my going to
Russia when in such a disturbed condition, so others may be curious
to know how this disturbance affected me as a traveller; and though I
am far from supposing that my very limited and isolated experience is
worth much, or perhaps anything, in showing the political condition of
Russia and Siberia at the time of my visit, yet I wish to convey the
impression that Russian atrocities and inflamed horrors, as posted on
placards and shouted by London newsboys, shrink into very much smaller
dimensions when the scene of action is reached. Such at least has been
my invariable experience, and to this I shall further allude hereafter.

They have also at Troitzkosavsk a church in which “a miracle” seemed
about to be recognised during our sojourn; for, on the first night of
our stay, after I had gone to bed, a woman came to the party of friends
with whom I had left Mr. Interpreter, and told them that she could see
a strange halo of light in the church, but whether caused by celestial
radiance or angels’ wings she did not say. The party turned out,
therefore, my interpreter included, and made for the church, into which
they could not gain admittance, and which was apparently empty, though
they managed at last, by looking through a crevice or window, to descry
a lamp burning before a glass ikon, which happened to slant at such an
angle as dimly to reflect through the darkness the rays of light to the
spot where they had been seen by the woman. This took away the sense
of the miraculous, not altogether to the satisfaction of some of the
party, who seemed to think “there was something in it.”[4]

The great ecclesiastical wonder of Kiakhta is its cathedral, said to
be the finest in Eastern Siberia, and to have cost 1,400,000 roubles,
equal at the time of building to at least £150,000. It was built at the
expense of the Kiakhta merchants, and possesses some excellent bells.[5]

[Illustration: THE GREAT BELL OF MOSCOW AND IVAN VELIKI TOWER.]

In bells, the Russian Church is the richest in the world--so far, at
least, as regards their size. The largest we have in England--that of
Christ Church, Oxford, weighing 7 tons--is but a baby compared with
many in Russia. The largest in Petersburg weighs 23 tons; “Great John,”
in the older capital, weighs 96 tons; whilst the old “Tsar Kolokol,” or
the King of Bells, in Moscow, weighed originally nearly 200 tons, or
432,000 lbs. Reckoning their value at 18 silver roubles per pood, we
get a price for our Oxford bell of £1,100; and for that of the largest
one of Moscow of £32,000. This monster bell is 26 ft. high, and 67 ft.
round!

It was neither its bells, however, nor its architecture that made
Kiakhta cathedral “a fine church,” but rather its costly fittings. It
has two altars, both of silver; a candlestick with numerous rubies and
emeralds, and a large chandelier studded with precious stones. More
striking still, perhaps, was the profusion of objects made of solid
silver, such as the “royal doors,” which are said to weigh 2,000 lbs.;
and, above all, the _ikonostasis_ of gold and glass, or crystal--the
value of the last, no doubt, being considerably enhanced by the cost
of carriage to so remote a spot. There were also several paintings,
executed at great expense in Europe.

We mounted the tower, and from thence had a view of the surrounding
country and of the three towns of Troitzkosavsk, Kiakhta, and the
Chinese Maimatchin. On a slight elevation, about a mile to the north,
at the head of an open sand-valley between two ranges of moderately
high hills, lay Troitzkosavsk, with its 4,600 inhabitants, its
school, houses, shops, Government buildings, and a number of persons
and officials who could not strictly be called merchants. There is
also a large building which formerly was the Custom House, where the
duties on tea were collected.[6] Below us was Kiakhta, with about 400
inhabitants, the abode of Russian mercantile aristocrats and their
belongings, making a population, according to Hoppe’s Almanack, of
about 5,000. The town lies snugly in a hollow, between hills of sand
and fir-trees, well sheltered from northerly winds, and opening out
southwards towards Mongolia. A small rivulet, called the Bura, runs
through the hollow, and, turning westward to the sandy plain, makes its
way at last into the Selenga. The country round looks sandy and dry,
which is in keeping with the meteorological conditions of the place.
Southerly winds prevail, and there is a deficiency of moisture in the
atmosphere; hence they have only a slight fall during the year either
of rain or of snow. So much is this the case that wheeled vehicles
are used all through the winter, and goods and travellers at that
season are thus driven some miles out of Troitzkosavsk to the spot
where snow begins, and sledges are usable. Kiakhta is about 2,500 feet
above the sea level. The greatest cold in 1877 was in February, when
the thermometer stood at 42° below zero; whilst the greatest heat that
year, namely 100°·5, was in August.

On the first morning after our arrival, our host sent us in his
carriage for a drive of 20 miles to Ust-Keran, the summer residence of
Mr. Tokmakoff, where also we expected to find a fellow-countryman, who,
we heard, was Professor of English in the gymnase at Troitzkosavsk.
It was a fine day, and our horses dashed along over a wide extent
of country, somewhat suggestive of Salisbury plain. We saw very
few people, but, happening to meet a vehicle, we pulled up, and my
interpreter, having descended, went to the carriage to know if we
were taking the right road. He called to me that we were right for
Madame Tokmakoff’s, upon which I shouted, “Ask him if the Englishman
is there!” whereupon someone in the carriage replied, “I am the
Englishman.” It was pleasant to hear this spoken in my native
tongue, and I hastened to make the acquaintance of Mr. Frank M----,
who was spending his vacation as tutor, and teaching English, in
the very family to which we were going. He therefore turned back,
and accompanied us to Madame Tokmakoff’s, by whom we were heartily
welcomed, and where we were reminded of home by the sight of
cricket-bats, stumps, and sundry other English things.

The great event of the afternoon was driving some miles further to a
Buriat lamasery, or monastery, inhabited by priests, for whom I had
taken some Scriptures; but none of them spoke Russian, and as we could
not well make them understand, I left the books with our friend to give
when an interpreter could explain, and this little commission he kindly
performed. I shall have occasion to speak of this lamasery hereafter.
On our way we had to cross a river, the vehicle being put on a raft,
and the horses swam through the stream--not considered extraordinary in
these parts, for the same evening we saw a dozen horses returning from
their work, and when they came to the river, they plunged in of their
own accord, and swam across.

One of the men on the bank was very much puzzled to make me out,
especially as I asked questions, and made notes of the replies. He
seemed to think there might be “something up,” but said that “I
wore no official clothes, and so he could not tell what sort of a
‘_tchinovnik_’ I was.” His suspicions, however, abated, and his vanity
seemed tickled, when he was told that I had come from a very far
country, that I was anxious to know about their manners and customs,
and made notes of what I heard and saw to tell my countrymen on my
return. After inspecting the monastery, we drove back to Kiakhta the
same evening, having spent a particularly agreeable day.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] In 1655 a Russian embassy was sent to Peking, with a view to the
arrangement of a commercial treaty. The route then lay from Tobolsk up
the Irtish to its source, over the Altai mountains, through the vast
domain of the Kalmuks, and across the Mongolian steppes. The Russian
envoy, however, refused to lie down and submit to Chinese etiquette
in approaching the Emperor, and was sent away, partly, perhaps, for
his want of obsequiousness, and more, perhaps, because the Chinese did
not see the need of a treaty, the boundaries of the two empires being
then not so perfectly in contact as now. A second embassy, sent in
1675, proved also a failure; but after this there happened a series
of events which caused the Chinese to realize that the Russians were
nearer neighbours than they had been accustomed to regard them. This
was brought about by the advances of the Siberians in the region of the
Amur, where they had taken up their abode among the Daurians and other
tribes, whom they so far encroached upon as to cause the Daurians to
appeal for aid to the Chinese. This aid was given, and thus the Chinese
and the Russians came first to blows in 1684.

[2] Kiakhta became the centre of Russo-Chinese commerce, which was
greatly increased after 1762, when Catherine II. abolished the Crown
monopoly of the fur trade, together with the exclusive privilege of
sending caravans to Peking. These concessions increased the traffic
enormously, and the influence of the business transacted on the
frontier extended from Kiakhta all across Siberia and Russia, and
even to the middle of Germany. Thus, from 1728 to 1860, the Kiakhta
merchants enjoyed almost a monopoly of Chinese trade, and made fortunes
estimated by millions of roubles. The treaty of 1860, however, opened
Chinese ports to Russian ships, and thus dealt a severe blow to the
Kiakhta trade; for up to that time only a single cargo of tea was
carried annually into Russia by water. Before 1860, the importation of
tea at Kiakhta was about one million chests annually, without taking
any account of brick tea, and, previous to 1850, all trade done at
Kiakhta was in barter, tea being exchanged for Russian furs and other
goods, because the Russian Government prohibited the export of gold and
silver money.

[3] When crossing the Pacific I fell in with a tea merchant homeward
bound from China, and from him I gathered that three-fourths of
the Russian trade is done in medium and common teas, such as are
sold in London in bond from 1_s._ 2_d._ down to 8_d._ per English
pound, exclusive of the home duty. The remaining fourth of their
trade includes some of the very best teas grown in the Ning Chow
districts--teas which the Russians will have at any price, and for
which, in a bad year, they may have to pay as much as 3_s._ a pound
in China, though in ordinary years they cost from 2_s._ upwards. The
flowery Pekoe, or blossom tea, costs also about 3_s._ in China.

[4] In Russia one continually meets with these sacred pictures, said
to work miracles: and sometimes _relics_, though the latter not so
often as in Roman countries. In two places I have been curious enough
to inquire for the evidence that might be given to substantiate the
so-called miracles. Of course, in many cases, the wonderful things
said to have been performed are enveloped in the mist of antiquity,
but one explanation offered at Novgorod, in the Yuryef monastery,
was to the effect that the very man who had shown us the bells, many
years ago, saw two women arrive at the place, who were screaming and
possessed of the devil, but that on coming to the grave of Father
Fochi (the great saint of the place) they were made whole. The second
explanation offered me, at the Spasski monastery in Yaroslaf, was of
a similar character. A certain ikon, before which I was standing, was
alleged to have been placed in the church in 1828. A girl, 17 years
of age, was seized by demoniacal possession, and dreamed that she saw
a certain picture. On waking, she was said to have searched through
the town for the picture, which, on looking through the church window,
she recognized in the ikon before us, and from that day she was made
whole! Such are some of the stories upon which rest the alleged power
of ikons to work miracles. But, as I have said before, the Russians are
by no means “sceptical.” Consequently, if a church or a monastery only
possesses a well-known miracle working ikon, the fortune of the place
is made. Persons come from far and near to pray before it, bringing,
of course, a present, and not unfrequently adding a thank-offering if
the prayer be heard. A poor man, having a diseased leg or a sick cow,
purchases a little silver model of his leg or his cow, and hangs it
upon the ikon (I have seen several such), or, if the offerer be rich,
he brings gems to adorn the wonder-working picture. These pictures,
on special occasions, are taken to the houses of the faithful, being
carried through the streets in procession, the people doffing their
caps; and I have seen the more devout, in the hope of receiving a
blessing, run between the bearers and under the picture carried upon
their shoulders. At Kasan we saw the coffin of Bishop Gregory, from
which chips are cut by sufferers to place on their wounds to be healed.
The monk who accompanied us, and who was, intellectually, superior to
some I have met, said that it was a well-known fact, and believed by
all, that the relics of saints placed upon diseased parts of the body,
and used with faith, are good for healing. The bishop, he said, died
200 years ago, but the wood of the alleged coffin did not appear to
me to have reached the age of 200 weeks, and the whole concern looked
modern.

[5] This reminds me that, though allusions have often been made to
churches, I have not yet described what a Russian church is like.
It should be premised, then, that the ideas of an Englishman and a
Russian differ widely as to what a grand church should be. Given an
English committee, money in hand, and they say, “Go to; let us build a
church to the praise and glory of--the architect;” whereas a Russian
merchant, his pocket full of roubles, seeks him out a lapidary, to whom
he takes emeralds, rubies, diamonds, and pearls; a smith, to whom he
consigns poods of silver; and a cunning workman, who can emblazon and
embroider priestly robes and ecclesiastical garments. The consequence
is that the English ecclesiologist, standing before “a fine church” in
Russia, finds almost nothing upon which to expend his vocabulary of
architectural terms. He sees merely wood, stone, or brick and plaster
buildings, not too evenly finished, and whitewashed over in such a
fashion that, but for their proportions, they would not be thought too
good for an English homestead.

The Russian churches are so far alike that they are all modelled on
the Byzantine style of architecture--a Byzantine church having been
described as a “gabled Greek cross, with central dome inscribed in a
square.” On the exterior, besides the central, there is sometimes a
western dome, often there is one at each angle of the square, and,
occasionally, one at each end of the cross. Accordingly, instead
of spires, the eye of a traveller in Russia becomes accustomed to
cross-crowned domes, which, as they are brightly painted and sometimes
covered even with gold, and furnished with bells, affect both eye and
ear not unpleasingly.

On entering a Russian church from the west, the internal arrangement is
seen to be fourfold: first, the narthex, or porch, which was anciently
for catechumens and penitents; next the nave, or body of the church;
then a narrow platform, raised by steps, answering to the choir;
and, beyond that, the sanctuary. The sanctuary is divided into three
chambers: the central one being called “the altar,” in which stands the
holy table, and behind it the bishop’s throne; the southern chamber
forming the sacristy, where are kept the vestments and treasures;
whilst that on the north is for preparing the sacramental elements.
The sanctuary is parted off from the choir by a high panelled screen,
called the _ikonostasis_, pierced by three doors, the centre opening
being called the “royal gates,” on the north side of which hangs a
gilded sacred picture of the Virgin, and on the south side a picture of
our Saviour, and the patron saint of the church. The remaining parts
of the screen are covered with other pictures, upon the frames and
coverings of which, apart from their artistic value, an almost fabulous
amount is sometimes lavished. The precious stones on the picture of
Our Lady of Kasan, for instance, in Petersburg, are valued at £15,000;
whilst, at Moscow, one emerald on the picture of the Holy Virgin of
Vladimir is valued at £10,000--the value of the whole of those on this
latter ikon being estimated at £45,000.

[6] All duties are now arranged at Irkutsk, and the annual quantity of
_leaf_-tea (exclusive of brick-tea) that passes through is upwards of
5,000 tons.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

_THE MONGOLIAN FRONTIER AT MAIMATCHIN._

Outlook into Mongolia.--Town of Maimatchin without women.--Visit to
a Chinese merchant.--Refreshments.--Attendants.--Purchases.--Tea
bricks for coin.--The town.--Buddhist temple.--Chinese
malefactors.--Their punishments.--Chinese
dinner.--Food.--Intoxicating drinks.--Route to
Peking.--Travellers.--Modes of conveyance.--Manners of the
desert.--Postal service.

As we stood on the top of Kiakhta church, we could see, as already
observed, the three towns of Troitzkosavsk, Kiakhta, and Maimatchin.
The former two were like other Siberian towns, but southwards there lay
before us something decidedly new. Just over the border was a veritable
Chinese town; then came a broad plain, covered with sand and herbage,
with the horizon bounded by the hills of Mongolia, beyond which the
imagination was left to picture its capital, Urga, and, further south,
the great wall of China. Before continuing our journey eastwards,
therefore, I shall describe our visit to Maimatchin, and offer a few
observations upon the route over the Mongolian frontier to Peking.

Mai-ma-tchin signifies, in Chinese, “buy and sell,” and so is applied
to this border town as a “a place of trade.” It has a population, we
were told, of 3,000, and differs in one respect, at all events, from
all the cities upon the face of the earth, in that the inhabitants are
all of the male sex. Not a woman is to be found in the town, a baby’s
music is never heard there, and the streets are void of girls and boys.
Not that the men, however, are all bachelors, for some of them have
wives and families in China proper. Nor are they all woman-haters or
henpecked husbands. We did indeed hear of one man, a British subject,
who so far agreed with Solomon as to the undesirability of living with
a brawling woman, even though it were in a wide house, that he had
fled from his island home, and retired to a house-top in the wilds of
Siberia, where he is living in prosperity, and whither his spouse has
not pursued him. But the fact is, that among the curious arrangements
of the Chinese at the time of their early treaties with the Russians,
and in order that their celestial subjects might not become rooted
to the soil, but consider themselves as sojourners only, they have
forbidden that women should live in Maimatchin. Hence a paterfamilias
of Maimatchin, if he wishes to visit his wife and children, must
undertake a month’s journey across the desert on the back of a camel,
and return by the same means; so that a few such journeys may well give
wings to his desire speedily to make his fortune and return home.

We took the opportunity of paying an afternoon visit to Maimatchin
on the first day of our arrival at Kiakhta, Mr. Koecher kindly
accompanying us. After passing out of the wooden gate of Kiakhta we
found ourselves on a piece of neutral ground, about 500 yards wide,
between the two empires. On the south side is a palisade pierced
for the principal gate, shielded from view by a high wooden screen
some eight or ten paces from the wall. Behind this screen we entered
Maimatchin, and found ourselves in a new world. The town is built
inside a strong wooden enclosure, about 400 yards square, with four or
five mud-paved streets. They are regular, however, tolerably clean,
and, for China, wide,--wide enough perhaps to allow of a London omnibus
being driven through them. The houses are of one storey, built of
unburnt bricks of mud and wood, and are thus solid and tidy, and are
surrounded by courtyards. At the entrances are screens that shut out
the river from the street, which are painted with diabolical-looking
figures, to frighten away evil spirits. This represents, however, the
houses of the well-to-do merchants. Towards the southern part of the
town are the mean, windowless houses of the poor, which have little of
the neatness and propriety of the above.

We were taken first to visit one of the Chinese merchants named
Van-Tchan-Taï; and on entering his courtyard we found it surrounded
by a number of doors, some entering the warehouses, the kitchen,
out-houses, etc., and one leading to the shop and dwelling-place
of the merchant. The door consisted of a suspended transparent
screen, admitting the air, and yet keeping out flies and insects.
The window-frames were ornamented and covered with paper. None
looked into the street, but all into the courtyard. Inside the house
were two compartments, an outer and an inner. In the outer chamber
we were seated on a raised platform, or divan, which serves for a
sleeping-place for the clerks and assistants by night, and for a
dining-place by day, when the bedding and cushions are neatly rolled up
and ornamentally arranged. This platform is heated by a flue beneath,
and on the edge in front is kept, always burning, a small charcoal
fire, which serves for lighting pipes and heating grog. Round the wall
hung illuminated texts, from the writings of Confucius, and various
pictures, one of which we were told was a representation of the god of
happiness. And a very stout personage he looked! But this is strictly
in keeping with Chinese notions, for they delight to load their deities
with collops of fat, prosperity and abundance of flesh in their eyes
having great affinity. A number of little birds were in the room, not
in cages, but on perches resembling those on which parrots are kept in
England.

The merchant invited us to drink tea, and told us that the Chinese
use this beverage without sugar or milk three times a day; namely, at
rising, at noon, and at seven in the evening. They have substantial
meals at nine in the morning and four in the afternoon. When they
discovered I was English, they were curious to know all about us,
making various inquiries, trying to imitate our words and sounds, even
to laughing, and examining carefully such things as were shown them,
as watches, pencils, and knives. We were no less curious to pry into
their affairs, and learn of them all we could. The merchant employed 23
“clerks,” 18 in Maimatchin, and the remainder at a branch establishment
in some other part of the world. We did not make out, however, whether
this number included shop assistants, warehousemen, servants, cooks,
etc., or whether it consisted only of actual writers. They seemed all
dressed alike, from the master downwards; that is, in a suit of blue
nankeen, and black skull caps. Suspended on the wall, and covered
with paper to keep them from dust, were two or three white straw
hats, of depressed conical shape, with a horsehair tassel on the top,
seemingly reserved for summer use or gala days. One of the attendants
had a black dress edged with white, and on inquiry he was found to be
the coachman in half mourning. Chinese full mourning must not be of
silk, is all white, and worn 100 days after the death of a relative,
during which time the head is not shaved. Black and white is afterwards
worn for three years, one of its features being a small white ball on
the top of the cap. As the servants stood about waiting on us, their
discipline appeared to be very much of the patriarchal character; none
seemed greater or less than another, except it were the chief clerk,
who received, we found, about £30 a year; whilst the “boys” received
from £5 and upwards, their food being in all cases provided. This
chief clerk cultivated a straggling moustache, which is the privilege
of all Chinese men after they arrive at 30 years of age. He had also
very long nails, protruding, perhaps, half an inch, which evidently
were considered beautiful. It is the custom of Chinese gentlemen and
ladies to have long nails, that other persons may be aware of their
rank in society, for with such impediments they could not labour. This
senior also seemed fond of his pipe, which held just so much tobacco as
enabled him to take five good strong whiffs only, and he then blew out
of the pipe, with a peculiar noise, the remainder of the tobacco and
ashes.

Whilst sipping our tea we proceeded to make purchases. The principal
articles of Chinese export into Russia are teas, cottons, nankeens,
silks, good satins, rhubarb, and many articles of curiosity and
ingenuity. The exports from Siberia are generally furs. As we sat in
the merchant’s shop, it was a matter for conjecture as to where the
merchandise was kept, for it was not visible. A number of articles,
however, were brought forth from mysterious cupboards and drawers, and
we heard that the Chinese allow as little of their property as possible
to be seen by the authorities, lest they should be more highly taxed.
So far, therefore, as appearances go in a Chinese shop, the American
dealer’s window-notice would be eminently appropriate: “If you don’t
see what you want, ask for it.” We did this, and found it successful.
My first purchase was a piece of silk called Chin-chun-cha, supposed to
be of sufficient measure for two suits of clothes. This silk is undyed,
and washes and wears so well that it is a favourite material throughout
Siberia for gentlemen’s summer suits, and sometimes for ladies’ dresses.

The Chinese are fond of having a couple of balls in the hand, at idle
times, to roll and rub one over the other with the fingers, and so
play with; for the same reason, probably, that the Turks like to have
beads in the hand. Several of these balls were offered to me. One
pair was of Chinese jade, which, on being rubbed together, emitted
flashes of electric light. Gilt buttons, too, were shown as a rarity,
but their marks betrayed that they came from Birmingham. We bought
some embroidered purses of native workmanship, and cups and saucers.
The saucers are of a lozenge-shape, and of metal, with an indentation
fitted to receive the bottom of the cup, which has no handle. Hence, in
drinking the tea, it was not necessary to finger the cup, but merely
to hold the saucer and drink from the cup resting therein. Some of the
drinking vessels were of wood, but lacquered and covered with a varnish
which made them quite capable of holding boiling water. Our most
comical purchase, perhaps, was a pair of furred ear-pockets, connected
by a piece of elastic, for use in frosty weather.

After taking refreshment, we looked about the house and yard, into
the kitchen, which was clean enough, and into the warehouse, with its
piles of chests of tea, and were amused to see them take a hollow
iron auger, something like a large cheese taster, and drive this into
the corner of a tea-chest to bring thereout a sample handful of the
fragrant herb. I contented myself, however, with buying a brick of tea,
as a greater curiosity. It measures about nine inches by six, and is
three-quarters of an inch thick, and might better be called, as it once
was in Germany, “tile” tea. This article was formerly used for coin in
certain parts of Siberia, and is so still in Mongolia. The owner of a
circus, since my visit, made his way through Kiakhta to Urga. The stud
and its riders greatly delighted the Mongolians, who are excellent
horsemen, and, as the proprietor accepted the “current coin of the
realm,” his cashier’s office presented the unusual appearance of being
filled to overflowing with bricks of tea! We had cause, therefore,
for congratulation, that we had not to carry a quantity of this very
inconvenient form of cash.

After leaving the house we wandered through the streets, examining the
wares exposed for sale, like those we had seen on the Chinese stalls
in the market-place of Troitzkosavsk, and the looking round at which,
in both places, gave us much amusement. We found all sorts of Chinese
knick-knacks; and the poorest attempts at cutlery, in the shape of
knives, scissors, and razors, that ever I saw. The razors bore a
strong resemblance to miniature hatchets, and, on steaming across the
Pacific, I observed that their use was not confined to men, for the
Chinese women think so much of having the hair cut away smoothly from
the back of the neck, that one female on board was seen thus acting the
barber on behalf of her sister. Beads and hats were likewise exposed
for sale, brushes and combs, pieces of flint and steel, and Buddhist
rosaries; which last, evidently, were considered finely perfumed, but
we thought the smell abominable. A piece of Chinese vanity we saw
consisted of circular felt pads, highly dyed with rouge, with which the
people rub, and so redden, their faces. Several of these curiosities we
bought, bargaining for the price by signs, to the mutual amusement of
buyers and salesmen.

We were taken to the Buddhist temple, the precincts of which appeared
to comprise the houses of the governor (or, as he is called, the
_zurgutchay_), and the chief priest; also a theatre, and something like
a prison. In the court of the temple were placed two or three cannon,
which are fired daily when the governor is going to sleep. The theatre,
we found, was open only on fête days, and, if the report of travellers
be true, the plays are sometimes grossly obscene. This, however, is
only in keeping with the pictures seen in the houses, and sold openly
in the streets, which are too licentious to bear description.

We saw in the court of the temple two malefactors, who had iron rings
round their necks, attached to which were chains, about five feet long,
with enormous links, and of great weight, weighing, I should judge, in
all, upwards of 50 lbs. They had chains, too, upon their hands and
legs, and, being exceedingly dirty and ill clad, they looked somewhat
ferocious. One of them had his chain coiled about his shoulders for
more convenient carriage, and when he saw that I was curious he allowed
it to drop towards the ground, showing me the full length of his
punishment. I bought the man’s rosary for a souvenir. We saw, also,
in Maimatchin, another kind of Chinese punishment, in the shape of a
wooden collar, made of 6-inch plank, about 2½ feet square, and put
about a man’s neck. It was said to be more than 100 lbs. in weight,
and the unfortunate wearer was prevented by its size from putting his
hand to his mouth. He used therefore, in feeding himself, a long wooden
spoon, but he looked anything but comfortable. His accusation was
written on the collar, setting forth his name and family, and he was to
wear his collar night and day for a month, and that for _fighting_! but
I am not clear whether it was for an ordinary pugilistic encounter, or
for attempted violence to a superior.

As we walked about the streets it was plain that, though we were
distinctly in the Chinese empire and not in Russia, yet that the people
of the two border towns were on the most friendly footing. Chinese
merchants visit the Russians freely, drink tea, smoke cigarettes,
and chatter,--not “pigeon English,” but “pigeon Russian.” To this
good feeling I presume it was that we were indebted for an invitation
to dine, two days after, with the merchant upon whom we called. We
were particularly anxious to do this; for to eat a Chinese dinner at
Maimatchin had been one of the curious treats I had promised myself
when thinking of pushing on so far as Kiakhta. At the same time, Mr.
Michie’s declaring that a Chinese dinner, to which Kiakhta merchants
take their friends, was “a feast most Europeans would rather undergo
the incipient stages of starvation than come within the smell of it,”
had rather terrified me as to the horrors one might be expected to
eat. I determined, however, to place bread on one side of my plate
and water on the other, and then martyrise myself for the sake of
gaining experience, to say nothing of showing myself a person of good
breeding in Chinese eyes, by tasting _everything_; and I hoped that, if
anything particularly nasty came into my mouth, it might be neutralized
or speedily swallowed by the aid of a piece of bread or a draught of
water. Things were not so bad, however, as I had feared, and we were
none of us made ill. Calling on our way to dinner at Mr. Tokmakoff’s,
I begged a small loaf of half-white bread; and, thus prepared, we
presented ourselves at the house of Van Tchan Taï.

There were five in the party, which included Mr. Koecher, our Russian
host; Mr. M----, our fellow-countryman; Mr. Interpreter; myself, and
a Russian friend. We were shown first into the inner compartment,
and seated on the divan, whilst they brought us tea, dried fruits,
and confections, such as candied ginger, dried walnuts and Mandarin
oranges, salted almonds, and sugared ditto, melon seeds, etc., etc. We
then adjourned to the outer chamber, where the dinner was spread on a
table. But what a table! It was just about three feet square, and on
this were placed, as a commencement, no less than 10 dishes, besides
our own plates. These dishes, or saucers, of meats were replaced to
the number of 30. Further east I met a man who told me that when he
dined at Maimatchin they gave him 64 dishes! At this tiny table we
were seated, and each was provided with a small saucer, three inches
in diameter, half filled with dark-looking vinegar, into which we
were supposed to dip everything before carrying it to the mouth. Of
this I soon got tired, and began to eat things _au naturel_, that
is as far as possible; but most of the courses were so disguised by
confectionery and culinary art that we had to ask of almost every
plate, What is this? Happily the plates were so exceedingly small
that to taste of each did not seriously strain one’s eating powers;
and by tasting first, and then asking what it was, all prejudice was
taken away till it was too late to have any. But we discovered that
among the dishes we had eaten were beans, garlic, a kind of sea-weed
cooked like seakale, and a green kind also; likewise radishes cut in
slices, swallows’ eggs boiled, and rissoles of meat; various sorts
of marine vegetables, and, I think, birds’ nests. Towards the end of
the feast appeared a _samovar_, but not like the Russian article of
that name,--the difference resembling that between an “outside” and an
“inside” Dublin car, of which an Irishman said that, with an outside
car the wheels were inside, whereas with an inside car the wheels were
outside. So with the Chinese samovar, the boiling part was exposed
to view, and contained the soup, in which were small pieces of meat,
vermicelli, and rice puddings, the size of tennis balls, for the eating
of which they brought us chop-sticks--I suppose, that we might try our
hands, for at the earlier part of the meal they had given us knives and
forks. Chop-sticks are a pair of cylindrical rods, rather longer, and
not quite so thick as lead pencils, which are both held between the
thumb and fingers of the right hand, and are used as tongs to take the
food and carry it to the mouth--an operation by no means easy to the
unpractised. Our host did not sit at table, or eat with us, but stood
looking on, and giving orders to his boys or “clerks.” Each guest was
provided with a tiny cup about an inch or a little more in diameter,
and perhaps half an inch deep. Into this, at an early stage of the
proceedings, was poured, from a diminutive kettle, hot _mai-ga-lo_,
or Chinese brandy, tasting, it was said, somewhat like whisky. It is
exceedingly strong, though not so potent as another kind of which we
heard, called _khanshin_, and which not only makes a man intoxicated
on the day he drinks it, but if he takes a glass of water only on the
morrow, the intoxicating effect is repeated. When they came to pour
me out brandy I declined, the propriety of which our host recognised
at once; for when my friends told him I was a “lama,” or priest, he
said that “_their_ lamas were not allowed to drink brandy.” It was
comforting, therefore, to find that we had at least one good thing in
common.

Whilst we were in the house of Van Tchan Taï there came in a Mongolian
lama, to whom I was introduced as an _English_ lama. The Mongolian
lamas do not confine themselves to spiritual functions; for this man
was a contractor for the carriage of goods across the desert to and
from China, which leads me to say something of this curious journey.
The Kiakhta-Peking route was not that followed by the earliest
embassies sent overland from Siberia, nor by Marco Polo in his
marvellous travels in Tartary. In fact, it is remarkable how very
little has been known, until lately, concerning this part of Central
Asia, and how little is known still.[1]

After the building of Kiakhta and Maimatchin, the route across the
desert was of course extensively used by the caravans, though I am not
aware that it was followed by any Englishman or celebrated traveller
till within the past quarter of a century.[2]

There are six Englishmen, four of whom I have met, who, as well as
some ladies, have travelled this Mongolian route within the past 18
years.[3] The traveller, however, who has given us the most solid
and scientific information about the part of Mongolia of which we are
speaking is the Russian Colonel Prejevalsky, who spent three years,
beginning in 1870, by travelling first from Kiakhta to Peking, then
turning northward to Manchuria, and afterwards following in the tracks
of Huc not quite to Lhassa, but as far as the Blue River, or the
Yang-tse-kiang; and then, turning back, did the most daring thing of
all, crossing the desert of Gobi from Ala-shan to Urga and Kiakhta.
This journey had never before been attempted by a European, and was
accomplished in the height of summer, when sometimes the party could
obtain neither pasture nor water.

The distance between Kiakhta and Peking is a thousand miles, and
Europeans who wish to make the journey have the choice of two modes
of conveyance, either by post-horses or by caravan camels engaged
by special bargain with their owners. So, at least, says Colonel
Prejevalsky, though Mr. Milne tells a different tale, for he had
intended to cross Mongolia in company with a Russian officer by
courier horses; but he found that, according to the agreement between
the Russian and Chinese Governments, it was allowable only for such
couriers as were Russian subjects to take the horse road, and therefore
he was obliged to go the ordinary caravan route by camels. He made an
agreement with some Mongol carriers, that they were to take him from
Kiakhta to Kalgan, near the great wall of China, in 30 days, for which
he was to pay them £15. For every day less than thirty he was to pay
ten shillings extra; for every day beyond that time they were to pay
him ten shillings. There was also a clause that a tent, fire, and water
should be supplied. The ordinary procedure of the caravan in winter is
to be on the move till about seven or eight in the evening, and then
stop for tea, and travel on till midnight or two in the morning. A
halt is then made for sleep, and all start again by eight or ten. They
eat in winter only once a day, and, according to Mr. Milne’s account,
a winter journey across the desert is anything but comfortable. Mr.
Michie, however, and Captain Shepherd, who travelled in milder weather,
give a very different account, and speak in pleasant terms of a nomad
life. It is so utterly different from any European experience of motion
and living that, though it has several drawbacks--and a month is rather
too long to be wholly agreeable--yet those who have passed through
such a phase of travel look back upon it as a pleasant change from the
humdrum life of a homeward voyage in a P. and O. steamer.

The pace at which the caravan proceeds is provokingly slow, and the
jolting of the rude, clumsy camel-cart makes walking, for a great part
of the day, preferable to driving; but there is game to be shot, and
the solitude of the desert is now and then relieved by arrivals at
Mongolian _yourts_, or tents, where, conversation being the only form
of newspaper they know, there is a general wagging of tongues, and a
shower of questions to be asked. The Mongol’s one notion of wealth is
the number of a man’s flocks and herds; and thus, if the Englishman is
asked what he is worth, he has to translate his riches into thousands
of sheep, horses, and bulls, and then explain his possessions. Again,
the monotony of the way may be relieved occasionally by meeting with
the Russian post.[4]

The manners and customs of the Mongolians are, in many cases,
exceedingly interesting, as taking one back to the habits of a nomadic
and pastoral people. But it is not necessary to detail them here, as we
shall have before us, in a subsequent chapter, the Buriats, who are a
branch of the Mongolian race; and in treating of the one we shall be in
many respects treating also of the other.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] We owe some of our early geographical information about Eastern
Mongolia to the rupture between the Russians and Chinese on the Amur.
The Chinese took several prisoners, and transported them to Peking,
subsequently allowing Russian priests to be sent to minister to their
spiritual necessities. When, in course of time, the prisoners might
have returned, they had learned so to like their quarters, that
they chose to remain; whereupon “the spiritual mission” was kept
up by sending new priests at intervals of ten years, and thus the
Russians learned something of the unknown country through which these
functionaries travelled.

[2] Daniel De Foe made his celebrated “Robinson Crusoe” to re-visit
his island, and afterwards land in China, where he met with a Jesuit
missionary who took him to Peking. Then, crossing the desert, he came
to the Argun and Nertchinsk, and so proceeded to Tobolsk and crossed
the Urals to Archangel. This, of course, is fiction; but it may be
that De Foe, who was never abroad in his life, and who published his
“Robinson Crusoe” in 1719, had heard of a route used in his day across
the Mongolian desert. When we come to the interesting writings of the
Roman missionary Huc, we have, of course, a good deal of information
about Mongolia; but his route lay in the south along the great wall of
China towards the Himalayas, and not at all in the north.

[3] One is Mr. Howell, formerly a British resident in China, who
crossed from Shanghai to Kiakhta; another is Mr. Wylie, who was
connected with the British and Foreign Bible Society, and who crossed
from Kiakhta to Peking; but neither of these gentlemen has favoured the
public, as far as I am aware, with information as to his wanderings. In
1863 Mr. Michie undertook “the Siberian overland route from Peking to
St. Petersburg,” and wrote an account of his Mongolian travels, which
was the first English book that had appeared on that part of Asia. Mr.
Michie has been followed by three other English writers. In 1869, by
Mr. William Athenry Whyte, F.R.G.S., who wrote, “A Land Journey from
Asia to Europe, being an account of a camel and sledge journey from
Canton to St. Petersburg, through the plains of Mongolia and Siberia;”
in 1875-6, by Mr. John Milne, F.G.S., who crossed Europe and Siberia to
Kiakhta, Peking, and Shanghai, and read a paper concerning his journey
before the Asiatic Society of Japan; and, in 1877, by Captain W.
Shepherd, R.E., who returned “homeward through Mongolia and Siberia,”
and wrote a short account in the Royal Engineers’ Journal. I heard
some of these travellers spoken of by the residents in Siberia, and
the Russians seemed mightily surprised that Captain Shepherd should
have taken such a journey alone, and unable to speak a word of their
language. I suppose Messrs. Howell and Wylie did the same, but I have
heard of Captain Shepherd’s exploit as far away as the Crimea, and so
lately as last autumn.

[4] Postal communication was established by treaty between the Russians
and Chinese in 1858 and 1860. The Russian Government organized, at
its own expense, a regular transmission of both light and heavy mails
between Kiakhta, Peking, and Tien-tsin. The Mongols contract to carry
the post as far as Kalgan, the Chinese the rest of the way. The Russians
have opened post-offices at four places, Urga, Kalgan, Peking, and
Tien-tsin. The light mails leave Kiakhta and Tien-tsin three times a
month, the heavy mails only once a month. The heavy mails are carried
on camels, escorted by two Cossacks from Kiakhta; while the light mails
are accompanied only by Mongols, and are carried on horses. The light
mails are taken from Kiakhta to Peking in two weeks, whilst the heavy
mails take from 20 to 24 days; and the cost of all this to the Russian
Government is about £2,400 a year, the receipts at the four offices
amounting to about £430.

CHAPTER XXIX.

_FROM KIAKHTA TO CHITA._

Farewell ceremonies.--Writing home of changed plans.--Caravans.--An
iron foundry.--Buriat yemstchiks.--Methods of
driving.--Salutations.--Insignificant post-stations.--Visit to
a missionary to the Buriats.--Russian missions in Japan.--A
remarkable meeting.--The Yablonoi mountains.--Chita.--Visit to the
Governor and prison.

We had determined, after dining at Maimatchin, to continue our journey
eastwards. Mr. Koecher, however, would not let us go without giving
us a supplementary dinner; for the Chinese spread is looked upon as a
matter of curiosity rather than of genuine gastronomy, and we did not
expect to get another respectable meal for many hundreds of miles.
After this supplementary dinner, therefore, we prepared to start. The
hospitality and kindness of the Siberians to departing friends is
unbounded; and, among other customs, they have one method of doing
honour to a guest at a feast which is considered a mark of great
respect. It is called the _podkeedovate_, and is done by seizing the
unfortunate victim and laying him flat on the extended and clasped
hands of two rows of guests, who toss him up and catch him. When Mr.
Collins, their first American visitor, was at Kiakhta, they tossed him
up in this manner to the ceiling, which he touched, palpably. In our
own case, happily, we were spared this honour, and were dismissed with
the repeated shakings of the hand of which the Russians are so fond;
provided, however, it be not over the threshold. Twice I found myself
transgressing in this respect--once to an American, who had become
half Russianized, and once to a Russian lady. Both of them smiled, and
asked me to come right in before shaking hands. What superstition they
have upon the subject I know not. Another Russian custom with departing
friends is to drive alongside for a few miles, perhaps to the first
post-station, and then take a last farewell. This our host did when we
left Kiakhta on the evening of Wednesday, the 16th July, and we were
then fairly started for a drive of 600 miles. We passed along the road
by which we came as far as Verchne Udinsk, or, as I have called it,
“the Amur and China junction.” Here we took the opportunity to post
letters to England, to say that to return from hence would be to leave
my work half done, and that we were going on to the Amur, from which
Mr. Interpreter was to turn back, whilst I was to continue to the
Pacific, and so reach home by completing the circle of the globe; and
as I thought to finish the journey in person sooner than a letter would
cross Asia and Europe, and I did not know what holes and corners I
might get into, or how be detained, my friends were exhorted not to be
alarmed if they heard nothing of me for many days. And the exhortation
was needed, for I subsequently got into two places from which I could
not stir, nor well communicate my whereabouts, so that, notwithstanding
my warning, serious and anxious doubts were entertained for my safety.

Whilst travelling eastwards we had frequently met caravans of carts
carrying tea. These caravans sometimes reach to upwards of 100 horses;
and, as they go at walking pace, and when they come to a river are
taken over by ferry, it is not matter for surprise that merchandise
should be three months in coming from Irkutsk to Moscow. In winter the
rivers, of course, present no difficulty, and hence this season is on
some accounts preferred for transport. The number of drivers required
for a large convoy is not numerous, and they lighten their work by
hanging a bundle of hay on the hinder part of every cart, so that a
horse, if hungry, takes good care to keep up with his leader. As we
proceeded, from Verchne Udinsk we met trains of two-wheeled carts with
manufactured iron.[1] There was one driver to every four or five carts,
and this driver had a dormitory on one of his loads, consisting of a
rude frame, two-and-a-half by six feet, with a covering of birch-bark,
and under this, clad in a sheepskin coat, a man contrives to sleep for
many an hour of the night and day. They usually travel about 16 hours
(though not at a stretch) out of the 24, and in the summer graze their
horses at the side of the road.

We had now left the great highway between China and Europe, and of this
we were sternly reminded by the amount of shaking to which we were
forced to submit. Also we were introduced to a new set of yemstchiks;
for most of our drivers now were Buriats, who tie up their horse’s
mane like a horn between his ears, and who, like the Russians, have a
wonderful knack of sending their horses along without harassing them,
the driving being done by the voice and by threatening with the hand.
Whip-cracking is unheard in Siberia, and the long, slender, snapping
whips of Western Europe are unknown. The Siberian uses a short stock
with a lash of hemp, leather, or other flexible substance, but having
no snapper at its end. The Russian drivers talk a great deal to their
horses, and the speech they use depends much upon the character and
performance of the animals. Do they travel well? Then the driver calls
them his “brothers,” his “doves,” his “beauties,” his “jewels.” On the
contrary, an obstinate or lazy horse is called a variety of names the
reverse of endearing. He may be called a _sabaka_, or dog, and his
maternity disrespectfully ascribed to the race canine. Sometimes the
driver rattles off his words as if the creatures understood all the
praise he is giving them, after which, on proper occasion, he storms
at and scolds them as the veriest hags and jades he ever drove. But
I do not remember that this fashion of talking to the horses was so
observable among the Buriats, though they drove exceedingly well.

These people have a curious method of salutation, as have several of
the peoples with whom we were brought in contact. The Chinese, for
instance, fold the hands together, and raise them up and down several
times. The Mongols hold up their thumb to salute, and to clench a
bargain one places his hand on the sleeve of the other. The Buriats do
much the same, whilst the Russians shake hands for everything, and if
they are friends they also kiss.

As we drove along we saw abundance of black and white jackdaws; small
birds, like a cross between a canary and a linnet; and, on the distant
hills, flocks of sheep. Further south, I have been told, herds of
camels are reared, for the sake of their wool, which in these parts
grows to a considerable length. The post-stations we passed were
far apart and poor, and the villages few. In these last live many
Buriats, some Russians, and a few Jews. In one village we saw some very
good-looking Jewish women, whom I saluted with a word or two of Hebrew.
This, and the showing of our podorojna that we were English, attracted
attention to us as strangers. Not long before, some Chinese ambassadors
had passed the same way; and one yemstchik, hearing that we were
foreigners, thought we too must be ambassadors, and inquired whether he
should go and put on his best suit, from which, however, we excused him.

On the evening of the second day after leaving Verchne Udinsk, we
reached Koordinska, where lives a Russian priest who is a missionary
to the Buriats, and upon whom I wished to call, though, as it was
getting towards midnight, I feared we might find the good man in
bed. But it was “now or never,” and I therefore persisted in going
to the house, notwithstanding the Buriat yemstchik’s remonstrances,
which I afterwards thought, may have proceeded from the fear that he
should be bewitched, or in some way influenced by the missionary,
for I could not get him to stop his horses within many yards of the
house. The missionary did not appear at first particularly amiable on
being visited at such an unusual hour; but, when he found that we had
good books to give him, he began to change his demeanour, and readily
imparted to us information respecting the progress of the mission,
telling us that during the previous year 300 Buriats had been baptized
east of the Baikal, and more than 1,000 on the west. He showed us,
however, that he had already a sufficiency of the Buriat Scriptures--of
the same edition, in fact, as those we were distributing--and he did
not care to accept more, which rather led me to surmise, what was
afterwards confirmed, that the amount of knowledge required by the
Russian priests of their converts before baptism is very slender. I
do not know either how far they press upon the Buriats the study of
the Scriptures, or whether the Buriats are averse to the book. The
old man at Selenginsk, Ivlampi Melnikoff, told us that many copies of
the Scriptures were left in the hands of his father when the English
missionaries took their departure, and that the Buriats would not
receive them. They were therefore handed over to a Russian priest; but
he was speaking of things as they were forty years ago.

When our missionary friend found that we were really interested in
his work, he pressed us, notwithstanding the lateness of the hour, to
drink tea; but this we declined, as we could not keep the post-horses
standing. He was very eager to tell us, before we went, that the
Russians were carrying on a successful mission to the Japanese (the
liturgy being sung in Russian style in the vernacular), under the
directorship of the Archimandrite Nicolai; and the missionary,
dwelling in the Buriat wilderness, was considerably perturbed because
someone in Japan had been writing a book, attempting to show that
Confucius was greater than Jesus Christ; and as I said that I expected
to pass through Japan, he begged that I would get a copy of the life of
Confucius, and consult with the Archimandrite how the heretical book
might be extinguished. This was the first I heard of the Archimandrite,
but, on reaching Nikolaefsk, I found him exceedingly well spoken of by
a Lieutenant Yakimoff, who gave me a letter to him to deliver on my
arrival in Japan.[2] Accordingly I hoped to see the said Archimandrite
Nicolai, but, before I reached Yokohama, he had returned home to be
consecrated bishop. I therefore thought no more of the matter till
last autumn, when my hopes were singularly and unexpectedly fulfilled,
whilst staying at Kieff on my way to the Caucasus. My companion and I
were trying to find someone in the Pechersky monastery who could speak
English or French. At last appeared with the monks a tall man in a
cassock, dressed like the others, save that his cassock was brown. He
said he could speak English, and, after having taken us round to see
the sights, he inquired of me where I was labouring in England, or, as
he put it, “where I was in service.” I told him, and then asked where
_he_ was “in service.” “Oh,” said he, “very far off.” “Well,” I said,
“where?” “In Japan,” he replied. “Then,” said I, “you must be the
Father Nicolai, to whom I had a letter last year from Siberia, and who
has lately been consecrated bishop.” And so it turned out, and thus we
had casually fallen in each other’s way, thousands of miles from the
place of our expected meeting. I dined with him, and we then parted,
he to continue his return journey to Japan, whilst I pushed forward to
Mount Ararat.

All this, however, was in the unknown future when we were talking to
the Russian missionary at Koordinska, who regretted that our visit
was so short, and whom we left to continue our journey all night to
Chita. In doing so we traversed hilly roads, and on the following day
had some extended views as we approached the _Yablonoi_, or Apple-tree
Mountains. This range runs in a north-easterly direction, right through
the Za-Baikal province; and when, after gradually rising from Verchne
Udinsk, which is 1,500 feet, we reached the summit of the range, 4,000
feet above the sea, we were then about 20 miles from Chita. Before us
a well-defined range of mountains bounded the horizon to the east,
while to the north and south the valley stretched away for miles. We
had a fine morning for the descent, and bounding along over a rolling
prairie, where herds of cattle were grazing, had a beautiful view
as we approached the town. Moreover, we were at last on the eastern
side of the great Altai chain, and consequently the rivers before us
differed from all that we had yet seen in Siberia. All the others had
been flowing northwards to be emptied into the Arctic Ocean, whereas in
the river Chita, from the left, joining the Ingoda from the right, the
current was flowing eastward, through a delightful valley, to find its
way, 2,000 miles off, into the Pacific. We had before us now, in fact,
one of the valleys of the head waters of the Amur, of which valley
Baron Rosen says that it is remarkable for its flora, and is called the
“garden of Siberia.”

Chita stands on the left bank of the Ingoda on a height, bounded on two
sides by lofty mountains. To the north lies Lake Onon, on whose shores
Genghis Khan, as he marched westwards, held his court of justice, and
in whose waters he drowned the condemned. Below this point the Ingoda
is navigable for boats and rafts. During the early years of the Amur
occupation, much material was floated down from Chita. The town was
founded in 1851, when it had a population of 2,600; now it has 3,000.
Many of the houses are large and well fitted, and all are of wood.
We found shops, at which, however, we had to pay 1_s._ a pound for
loaf-sugar, and white bread cost just three times what we had paid for
it at Tobolsk.

The Governor’s house was the best in the place, and there we presented
our letters. His Excellency, M. Pedashenko, gave us a kind reception.
I had met on the road, at a post-station, the father of Madame
Pedashenko, and he had given me an introduction to his daughter; but
Madame was unwell. The Governor, however, spared no pains to do for us
all he could. On learning that I wished to visit the penal colony and
gold-mines of Kara, he telegraphed that arrangements might be made for
my being conveyed thither; and after this we proceeded to inspect the
prison in the town. Outside the building was a black cart, which might
be placed in a similar category with our old-fashioned English stocks.
Formerly prisoners were taken in this cart to the market-place, and
there exposed as outlaws and felons--their accusation being carried on
the breast, and a notification attached that they had “lost all their
rights.” This punishment was said to be abolished now, but I heard of
its having been used at Blagovestchensk as lately as the previous year.

The prison at Chita contained 169 prisoners, and cannot, I suppose,
be that in which the 30 Decembrists were confined in 1826; for Baron
Rosen speaks of Chita in his day as a little village of 300 people. At
the time of our visit, they were expecting a new place of confinement
to be built--not a day before it was wanted; for the Chita prison was
apparently the oldest, and I thought it the poorest and dirtiest, we
had seen. The prisoners, too, were shabbily clad, and dirty. One of
them was reading a religious book lent him, I think he said, by the
priest; but there was no prison library. Indeed, it was very rare to
find one, though at Ekaterineburg we were told that a prisoner who
wished to read might have a prayer-book. Several of the Chita prisoners
were from Russia, and condemned to hard labour. There was a carpenters’
shop, in which some were forced to work, and others did so for their
own pleasure. Speaking generally, those in the building appeared to be
enjoying an easy time; for the doors of the wards were open to allow
their going in and out of the yard as they chose, and many were lying
about sleeping in the sun. We were told that they found it difficult
to sleep at night by reason of vermin, and so were sleeping instead by
day. This illustrates a remark of Goryantchikoff in “Buried Alive,” to
the effect that his prison was never free from fleas even in winter,
and that in summer they increased. In the prison kitchen we saw them
cutting up rhubarb leaves to put in the soup (fresh cabbage not being
ready at the time of our visit), which reminds me of another remark of
Goryantchikoff, who writes as if it were a normal thing with him to
have black-beetles swimming in his soup. His remark about fleas I can
readily believe; but by “black-beetles” I presume he refers to little
brown insects, about half an inch long, called “_Tarakans_,” which
swarm in the houses of the Siberian peasants. Happily, however, they
are non-belligerent, and I was told by an Englishman that the people
are not averse to them. Why they should daily walk into the copper
to be boiled in Mr. Goryantchikoff’s soup, I know not; but one thing
about prison soup I do know, that, in the irregular, uncomfortable (I
was going to say half-starved) condition in which I have sometimes
travelled in certain parts of Russia, I have more than once tasted
prison soup, of which, but for appearance sake, I would fain have
eaten, not a mere spoonful to give my opinion thereon, but a plateful
to satisfy my appetite. I should not have chosen that, however,
seasoned with rhubarb leaves.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] It is not unlikely that the iron here alluded to had come from
Petrovsky Zavod, which is about 100 miles south-east of Verchne
Udinsk. These ironworks were established during the reign of Peter
the Great, and at one time were worked by convicts; but, so far as
they are in activity now, free labour, I believe, is employed. This
Zavod was formerly of importance to the locality. The engines for the
first steamers that Russia placed on the Amur were made here. Guns,
also, have been cast and bored by Russian workmen. There is plenty of
coal, too, in the neighbourhood, but it is not much used, as wood is
plentiful. I heard very little of the operations carried on at present,
but it seems that in the whole Trans-Baikal province there were
produced, in 1877, of cast iron 482 tons and of wrought iron 280 tons.
Thirty years ago, Petrovski wrought 18 tons of bar iron annually.

[2] On my voyage I gathered from a Russian captain that there were
in Japan 7 priests, 95 catechists, and 2,000 members, all of whom,
not excepting even the priests, were converts to the orthodox Russian
Church. In 1876, £1,174 were spent on this mission, which is the only
Pagan mission, as far as I know, that the Russians have in foreign
parts; and they think their Japanese work a great success, for in the
_Oriental Church Magazine_ for March 1880, the Russian editor says: “In
1879 the (Russian) Church in Japan numbered a total of 6,000 members,
an increase of 2,000 having taken place during one year”; and he adds,
“Though the other Christian Churches control over 320 missionaries,
and have in their possession enormous pecuniary means, still our
(Russian) missionaries have succeeded in gaining full and exclusive
control over the northern part of the island of Nipouna, and compete
most successfully with their Roman Catholic and Protestant brethren
in the central part of the island.” “This brilliant success is mainly
attributable to the chief of our Japanese mission, Father Nicolai.”

CHAPTER XXX.

_THE BURIATS._

Country of the Buriats.--Their physiognomy
and costume.--Habitations.--Mongol
yourts.--Hospitality.--Fuel.--Possessions in cattle.--Character
of Buriats.--Their religions.--Buddhist Buriats.--The soul
of Buddha.--The lamas.--Their celibacy, classification,
employments, disabilities.--Buddhist doctrines.--A prayer
cylinder.--Christian Buriats.--English missions.--Reports of
English travellers.--Results of Russian missions.--Distribution of
Buriat Scriptures.

Soon after leaving Verchne Udinsk, we entered upon the vast steppe
which occupies a large portion of the Trans-Baikal. Here we found
ourselves in the heart of the Buriats’ country. We first met with
these people a few miles on the western side of Irkutsk, and their
physiognomy at once told us they belonged to a different race from any
we had seen. They have very large skulls, square faces, low and flat
foreheads; the cheek-bones are high and wide apart, the nose flat, eyes
elongated, the skin swarthy and yellowish, and the hair jet black. With
the men the hair is allowed to grow upon the crown of the head, and is
plaited into a queue that hangs down their backs. What remains is cut
close, but not shaved, as with the Tatars. The head-dress of the women
is exceedingly rich, and consists of silver, coral, polished beads of
Ural malachite, and mother-of-pearl. They wear their hair in two thick
braids, which fall from the temples below the shoulders, and the
unmarried girls interweave their braids with strings of coral. Several
women had many silver ornaments hanging on their breasts, and in some
cases a straight rod at the back of the head stuck out horizontally for
several inches on either side, and to this the hair was tied. I was
desirous to purchase one of these head-dresses for a curiosity, but
they were not to be had at shops. The stones and metal are purchased,
and made up by household skill. I was, however, somewhat taken aback
on finding that their value frequently amounted to twenty or thirty
pounds sterling. At a post-station we asked a Buriat what he would
take for his hat. To our surprise, he asked the modest price of fifteen
roubles merely for the silver knob at the top. The Buriats are said to
wear no linen, but a wealthy bride’s dowry sometimes consists of 40
cases of the richest furs.

[Illustration: MISS BOU-TA-TYO, A BURIAT YOUNG LADY.]

As for their habitations, the Buriats are such inveterate dwellers in
tents that though they are supposed now to be civilized where they
come in contact with the Russians, yet they make a tent of the house
by piercing a hole in the middle of the roof, and have the fire in
the centre of the floor. When visiting Madame Tokmakoff, she had a
Buriat man-servant, for whom a Russian house was provided, but in which
he could not be happy until he had thus readjusted his dwelling. We
entered a Buriat house at Cheelantoui, although only the woman was at
home. There was within a rude wooden bench, on which we were invited
to sit, and on it was lying a pair of coral ornaments for the head.
These the woman, on our noticing them, immediately put on, and she then
invited us to drink tea. To have declined would have been considered
highly unpolite. Even among the Russians, a general pleasantly told
me that he took a refusal to eat food in his house like a slap in
the face. Moreover, we were anxious to stand well in the good graces
of our Buriat hostess, for we wished to be admitted to the Buddhist
temple, and she was the only person in the place through whom we could
communicate in Russian with the lamas. But to see the tea served,
and have to drink it, was no small trial. Over the fire hung a large
open iron pot, full of a bubbling liquid covered with scum. In this
was a ladle, which our fair hostess filled and refilled, and emptied
back into the pot. Then, scraping the scum away, she took a ladleful
of the decoction, poured it into cups, and gave us to drink. We were
told it was tea flavoured with salt. I only hope it was nothing worse,
but it will hardly be thought matter for surprise if, after tasting
it, I had an accident, upset the beverage, and declined a second cup.
We had a good look, however, at the furniture of the dwelling, the
most interesting item of which was a family altar, something like a
small sideboard with drawers. On it were round bronze cups of liquor,
and other offerings. There were also about the room some objects of
ornamented metal, betokening clever workmanship.

This represents the Buriat in his civilized condition. One gets a
better idea of his native habits and antecedents by going away from
the haunts of the Russians, or even into the “land of grass,” as
their Mongolian brothers call their desert. There they live in tents,
which, like those of other Siberian aborigines, are constructed with
poles meeting at the top, but covered with felt instead of deerskins.
The hospitality of all Mongol tribes is unvarying. Every stranger is
welcome, and has the best his host can give; and the more he consumes,
the better will all be pleased. The staple dish of the Mongol yourt
is boiled mutton, but it is unaccompanied with capers, or any other
kind of sauce or seasoning. A sheep “goes to pot” immediately on being
killed, and when the meat is cooked, it is lifted out of the hot water
and handed, all dripping and steaming, to the guests. Each man takes
a large lump on his lap, or any convenient support, and then cuts
off little pieces, which he tosses into his mouth. The best piece is
reserved for the guest of honour, and, as a mark of special attention,
is frequently put into his mouth by the greasy fingers of his host.
After the meat is devoured, the broth is drunk, and this concludes the
meal. Knives and cups are the only aids to eating, and as each man
carries his own “outfit,” the dinner-cloth and service does not take
long to arrange. The entire work consists in seating the party around
a pot of cooked meat. The Buriats are famous at drinking brick tea,
infusing with it rye meal, mutton fat, and salt obtained from the lakes
of the steppe. I suspect it was this we had to taste at Cheelantoui.
So important an article of food is this tea to the Buriats, that
they sometimes lay by stores of it as money. In dry situations, this
substance will remain a long time undeteriorated; and consequently on
the steppe an accumulation of it is often thought a better investment
than herds and flocks.

In the northern parts, the Buriats procure wood for fuel; but in the
southern parts, and with the Mongols in the desert, this article is
scarce, and they use instead sun-dried camels’ dung, which they call
_argols_, from a Tatar word which signifies the droppings of animals
when dried and prepared for fuel.[1]

The Buriat implements for striking fire used to be preferred to
European, and commanded a high price among the Russians. They are
made of plates of the best tempered steel, from four to six inches
long, stitched to a bag for holding the tinder, the bag being of red
leather, and tastefully ornamented with silver and steel spangles. The
English and Swedish matches have now driven them out of the Russian
market.

The ordinary occupation of the Buriats is that of tending cattle,
the number of their herds reminding one of the flocks of the Hebrew
patriarchs. Mr. Stallybrass told me that, when he was living at
Selenginsk, he knew rich Buriats to possess as many as 6,000 or 7,000
sheep, 2,000 head of horned cattle, and 200 horses; and Captain
Cochrane mentions the case of the mother of a Buriat chief who
possessed 40,000 sheep, 10,000 horses, and 3,000 horned cattle, besides
a large property in furs. In a sparsely-populated country, therefore, a
man’s children are very useful in looking after his cattle; and since
it is necessary to be constantly removing to fresh pastures, it will
be understood that this state of things presented to the missionaries
a double educational difficulty, namely, unwillingness on the part
of the parents to lose their children’s services, and their constant
change of residence. The same difficulty besets those still who would
carry on missionary and educational work among other wandering tribes
of Siberia. The Buriats, in 1876, numbered 260,000--the largest of the
native populations of Eastern Siberia. As yemstchiks we thought them
livelier than the Russians, and there was a manly independence in
their bearing, which easily accounted for the difficulty the Russians
had at first in subjugating them. Moreover, they would seem not to be
deficient in intellectual power, for the English missionaries taught
some of them Latin, and had prepared an elementary work on geometry and
trigonometry in the Buriat language. Baron Rosen also mentions that
they play chess, having learnt it from the Chinese, and he says that
the best player among his comrades, who were Russian officers, having
on one occasion challenged a Buriat to a game, was beaten. The speech
of the Buriats is a dialect of Mongol, rough and unsophisticated,
with Manchu, Chinese, and Turkish corruptions. It is distinguished by
its abundance of guttural and nasal sounds. Instead of true Mongolian
letters they employ the Manchu alphabet, which is written in vertical
columns from the top to the bottom of the page, the lines running from
left to right. The only versions of the Scriptures in the Mongolian
language are those of the Calmuck and Buriat dialects.

The religion of the Buriats is of three kinds: Shamanism, Buddhism, and
Christianity. Shamanism, more or less like that of the other tribes of
Siberia, would appear to have been their old religion; and it still
lingers most, I presume, in the northern parts of their country, which
are farthest from Buddhist influence. Buddhism, however, holds sway
over by far the greater portion of the people, and was originally
imported from Thibet.[2]

[Illustration: BURIAT LAMAS AND MONGOLIAN INTERPRETER.]

The lamas, or priests, are treated with great reverence, and every
Buddhist Buriat desires that one of his family should follow the
priestly calling. Hence it comes to pass that the lamas compose a
sixth--some say a fifth--of the population. When in full dress they
are clothed in scarlet, and shave their heads all over, and their
large ears standing off from the skull give them a curious appearance.
They are supposed to observe the strictest celibacy; hence Mr. Michie
observes that it is a tender point with a lama to be asked how his wife
and family are; but Mr. Erman points out that their celibacy has the
most prejudicial consequences. The use of spirits is forbidden to them,
lest excess “should disorder the brain of the student of the divine
oracles, and corrupt the heart by the bad passions it might engender.”
The use of tobacco also is denied them, and that for one of the best
of reasons against smoking, because “it is conducive to indolence, and
tends to waste leisure hours which ought to be devoted to pursuits
affording instruction as well as amusement.”[3]

Besides their religious employments the lamas engage in various
branches of ordinary industry, especially in the manufacture of
their own wearing apparel and their ecclesiastical furniture. A lama
labours under one inconvenience, in that he is not allowed to kill
anything, through fear that what he slaughters may contain the soul
of a relative, or possibly that of the divine Buddha. Even when he
is annoyed, says Mr. Knox, by fleas or similar creeping things, with
which their bodies are often thickly populated, he must bear his
infliction until patience is thoroughly exhausted. He may then call
in an unsanctified friend, and place himself and his garments under
thorough examination. So again, in connection with this difficulty
about killing, Captain Shepherd relates an instance in which the lamas
did their best to keep the law and yet evade it at the same time. The
captain, in crossing the desert, had bought a sheep, and was somewhat
in difficulty as to how the animal should be slaughtered. There were
four in the party. The late owner was a lama, and could not take life;
so was the guide; the captain was unwilling to turn butcher, and his
Chinese servant did not know how. The captain would have shot the
animal, but the owner protested. One of the lamas, therefore, took the
sheep aside, threw it down, tied its legs, explained to the Chinaman
the trick, and lent his own knife for the deed to be done, after which
he turned and walked quickly to a distance. When the sheep was once
killed, the lamas soon cut it up, had it cooked, and, of course, helped
to eat it.

The Buddhist books teach the people that they will attain the highest
wisdom if they honour the lama; that the sun itself rises _only_ that
honour may be rendered to the lamas; and that persons obtain pardon for
the most enormous sins by showing them respect. Any offence against
a lama annihilates the merit acquired by a thousand generations.
Whosoever shows any contempt for these personages is said to be
punished by accident, sickness, and all kinds of misfortunes, and
so forth. One of their Siberian monasteries, or lamaseries, with a
temple, is at Turgutu, midway between Verchne Udinsk and Chita; and I
think I heard of schools there. I have said that we visited a lamasery
at Cheelantoui. It was a small one, consisting of about half-a-dozen
houses, one of which was the temple, where, if I mistake not, they
worship daily at sunset, but into which, unfortunately, we could not
enter, as the chief was absent. There were younger lamas present, some
of them mere boys; but they either could not or would not understand
us, and seemed afraid to grant favours. We saw, however, the praying
machine. It consisted of an upright cylinder, from two to three feet
high, and perhaps two feet in diameter. It was fixed on a pivot, and
could be turned by a rope, to be pulled by the devotee, who secured
by each revolution some thousands of invocations to Buddha. Sometimes
these machines are turned by mechanical power, like a wind or water
mill. This, of course, is easier, and as the quantity of prayer is more
important than the quality, the latter method saves much trouble, and
is popular.[4]

The Buriats, who are Buddhists, have temples, ritual, an order of
priests, and a considerable literature. With a religion so developed,
it will not be difficult to account for its overcoming the older
Shamanistic creed, nor will it be hard to understand what was told us
by the Ispravnik of Selenginsk,--that of the two religions among the
Buriats, with whom the Russian missionaries come in contact, they find
the conversion of the Shaman Buriats tolerably easy, but the Buddhists
are greatly opposed to Christianity.

We now come to that part of the Buriat people who are Christian.
Perhaps it was an inquiry into the false religion of Buddha, under
which so many millions of the human race are deluded, or perchance
only a timid belief in the power of their own creed, that led our
early travellers in Siberia, with one exception, to look coldly and
unbelievingly on the efforts of the English mission to the Buriats; in
connection with which the thought arises for how little the heathen
world would have to thank the Christianity of England, if there
were not some who take a more believing view than the travellers
who go abroad, looking in a superficial way at what is being done,
or sometimes not looking at all, and then coming home to pronounce
missions a failure or an imposture. Captain Cochrane, for instance,
speaking of the missionaries at Selenginsk, goes so far as to say, “For
my own part, so small are my hopes of their success, that I do not
expect any one Buriat will be really and truly converted.”[5]

I have shown, however, that the English missionaries laid a solid
foundation, taught several scholars, and translated the Scriptures,
which translation the Russian missionaries have in their hands to-day;
and whatever may have been the success or failures of the English, it
certainly cannot be said of the Russian missionaries that they have no
converts, for, such as they are, they count them by thousands.

The Ispravnik at Selenginsk told me there were about 40 men engaged in
nine districts in the Russian mission to the Buriats, though I am not
aware whether some of them are not also parish priests. We called upon
a priest at Verchne Udinsk to ask about the matter, and sold him some
New Testaments and Gospels. He informed us that there were 15 mission
stations among them, and that on the eastern side of Lake Baikal there
were baptized annually about 300 Buriats, and on the western side more
than 1,000. This was confirmed by the missionary upon whom we called
further on, and it agrees tolerably with the general almanack of 1878,
in which it is stated that in the Irkutsk diocese there were baptized,
in the previous year, 1,505 of both sexes, including four Buriat lamas;
though the number of converts given for the Trans-Baikal diocese for
that year amounted to only 52, there being one lama to every 20 persons.

We had brought with us a number of copies of the Buriat Scriptures.
Some of these we left at Irkutsk, some with the Ispravniks of
Selenginsk and Troitzkosavsk, and some for the lamasery of Cheelantoui.
Others we left at Chita with a view to spreading them over the
district, as well as placing them in the prisons. I asked the Ispravnik
at Selenginsk what he thought the lamas would do with the books. He
said he thought they would first read them and then destroy them; but
Mr. Stallybrass, on my return, was of opinion that they were likely
to be deterred from destroying them by a feeling that they were
holy books. In any case we gave the copies we had brought, and thus
endeavoured to do what little we could for this interesting people,
who, I doubt not, will gradually be absorbed into the Russian Church.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] The collecting, pounding, moulding, and drying of dung is, further
south, an important branch of commerce. Argols are of four classes.
In the first rank are the argols of goats and sheep, which make so
fierce a fire that a bar of iron placed therein is soon brought to a
white heat. The argols of camels constitute the second class; they burn
easily, and throw out a fine flame, but the heat they give is less
intense than that given by the preceding. The third class comprises
the argols of the bovine species; these, when thoroughly dry, burn
readily, and produce no smoke. Lastly come the argols of horses and
other animals, which, not having undergone the process of rumination,
present nothing but a mass of straw more or less triturated. They are
soon consumed, but are useful for lighting a fire. This fuel is called
_kiseek_ in Russia, and in the southern governments was the only kind
available for the poorer inhabitants, wood being very scarce and dear.
The discovery of coal, and the establishment of manufactories, has
wrought a complete change in the means of heating in Ekaterinoslaf.
Kiseek was made from the dung of cattle and sheep, laboriously trodden
under foot by women, and then sun-dried.

[2] At Lhassa, the capital of Thibet, dwells the _Dalai Lama_, who is
the head of the Buddhist religion; and though his followers acknowledge
him to be mortal, they believe his soul to be an immediate emanation
from the essence of their supreme deity, Buddha. In places where this
worship prevails are found religious communities gathered round the
temples dedicated to the rites of their faith, and monasteries, or,
as they are called, _lamaseries_, containing the various orders of
priests. It was one of these we visited at Cheelantoui. When the great
lama dies, it is held that his spirit immediately enters the body of
another human being, who thus becomes successor to all the rights and
privileges held by his predecessor, and some little difficulty often
occurs in discovering who may be the favoured individual; but as the
priests are the chief actors in the scene, their search is generally
successful. Commonly the spirit is recognized as having animated some
new-born infant, who is at once taken to the religious establishment
and educated by the lamas in the mysteries of their faith.

[3] The lamas are divided into four classes. Those of the first are
occupied with the study of doctrine, and with the tenets and mysteries
of their faith; those of the second with the regulation of certain
religious rites and ceremonies; those of the third busy themselves in
the study and direction of their worship; the fourth class study and
practise medicine, in which it would appear that some of them attain
eminence, for when we arrived at Kiakhta we found Mr. Tokmakoff, on
account of his health, was gone to Urga, the Mongolian capital, to be
near a native doctor.

[4] Inside the cylinder is placed the oft-used prayer of the Buddhist,
“_Om mani padme houm_,” of which a Russian near the monastery said the
meaning was _Gospodi pomilui_,--_i.e._, “Lord, have mercy upon us!”
Its real meaning, however, does not appear to be very clear. Klaproth
understood it to mean, “_O the gem in the lotus. Amen!_” and Huc
paraphrases it into, “_O that I may obtain perfection, and be absorbed
in Buddha. Amen._” The lamas assert that the doctrine contained in
the marvellous words is immense, and that the whole life of man is
insufficient to measure its depth and extent. At Lhassa the formula
is heard from every mouth--is everywhere visible in the streets, in
the interior of the houses, and on every flag and streamer floating
over the buildings, printed in Tatar and Thibetan characters. Certain
rich and zealous Buddhists even entertain, at their own expense,
companies of lamas for the propagation of the _mani_; and these strange
missionaries, chisel and hammer in hand, traverse field, mountain,
and desert to engrave the sacred formula on the stones and rocks they
encounter in their path. There was a stone with inscriptions, in the
temple yard at Cheelantoui; and I found other stones, bearing the
_mani_, on the supposed site of a temple at Tyr, on the Lower Amur.

[5] He does, indeed, afterwards allow that what is impossible with man
is possible with God; but goes on to insinuate that the missionaries
knew of the uselessness of their work, but that they had “too
comfortable a berth to be given up,” and then he thinks, forsooth,
that justice is not done to the people of England in so squandering
money, etc., etc. Mr. Atkinson contented himself with a passing
compliment to the character of the missionaries, and said that they
were unable to make converts among the Buriats; whilst Mr. Hill, who
visited Selenginsk, records that, “notwithstanding all their labours,
not a single Buriat had been converted by them”; and then he quotes
the testimony of a lady living on the spot, who said, “The missions
only failed because the undertaking was beyond the power of man to
accomplish unaided by more than his own genius. The missionaries
had all the zeal and perseverance of the Apostles, but they wanted
their power of working miracles, or the aid of some such startling
circumstances as the history of religious revolutions has often
presented to us, and without which all efforts at all times to convert
the Buriats will be equally fruitless.”

CHAPTER XXXI.

_SIBERIAN POLITICAL PRISONERS._

The Za-Baikal a natural prison.--“Decembrists” of
1825.--Misapprehensions respecting political prisoners.--The
story of Elizabeth.--Vindictive foreign writers.--Palpable
misstatements.--Misleading information.--Dostoyeffsky’s “Buried
Alive.”--Rosen’s “Russian Conspirators.”--Present condition
of political prisoners.--Testimony of Poles.--Treatment
of an attempted regicide.--The number of “politicals”
exaggerated.--Calculations concerning them.--Their mode of
transport.--Paucity of statistics accounted for.

The Trans-Baikal province, east of the “Holy Sea,” was, until within
the past 30 years, a _cul-de-sac_, to which the gravest of political
offenders were commonly deported. It lay outside the two great routes
of Siberian travel. The traveller to the Pacific, by way of the Lena,
left the province on his right; the merchant going to Kiakhta passed it
on his left. There was, indeed, a road running through the province,
but it might be said to lead to nowhere. It was, moreover, a country
from which a prisoner found it difficult to escape. If he went to the
north he came to enormous forests, in which, though he might find
berries in summer, he could not live in winter. Southwards he was
hemmed in by the Mongolian desert. The road eastwards brought him to
a river, down which, if he could float 2,000 miles and escape the
jealous Chinese, he might reach the Pacific; or, again, if he turned
to the west, and rounded or crossed the Baikal lake, he was likely to
be caught in the neighbourhood of Irkutsk; and lastly, in whatever
direction he went, there was a price on his head that could be claimed
by any Buriat who chose to make him his prisoner, and bring him to the
authorities either dead or alive.

There was also another reason, which, in the eyes of the Government,
made the Za-Baikal a suitable place in which to confine the worst
offenders; for the province is rich in silver and gold, and gems
are found in its mountains. It provided a place, therefore, where
they could segregate disturbing elements of society, exact enforced
labour from their convicts, and to some extent mitigate the cost of
keeping them by the value of the minerals obtained. Consequently “the
silver-mines of Nertchinsk” has long been an expression, at the mention
of which the ears of Russians tingle; and so it was with the prisons of
Chita and Petrovski,--connected in their minds with political exiles,
and especially with certain of them called “Decembrists,” who in
December 1825 tried to raise revolt among the soldiers of Nicolas, and
deprive him of his throne.

The mines of Nertchinsk and Kara will be treated of in subsequent
chapters. I purpose to speak in this, not of political exiles with
their families and descendants generally, but of the condition of
_political prisoners_, past and present, and of certain buildings in
which some of them have been confined. That there exists a great deal
of exaggeration and misapprehension in England, on the Continent, and
in America respecting the number, misery, and degradation of Russian
political prisoners I am persuaded; nor is this hard to account for
if regard be had to the character of the books which profess to give
information upon the subject.

Let us begin, for instance, with the touching story of “Elizabeth; or,
the Exiles of Siberia,” by Madame de Cottin, to whose work many English
persons are indebted for nearly all they know of Siberia. The book so
far resembles the truth that, in 1799, a young girl of 18, the only
daughter of a Russian exiled officer, Proscovie Lopouloff, formed the
project of asking forgiveness for her parents, for which purpose she
left Ischim, near Tobolsk, with a few roubles in her pocket, walked
in 18 months 2,000 miles to the capital, was presented, and obtained
her petition, the real account of which is told by Xavier de Maistre
in “La Jeune Sibérienne.” But Madame de Cottin imported a love-match
into the story, and produced one of the most popular books of her day,
depicting, however, a narrative for which she had to rely largely upon
her imagination for many details. She paints a picture of Siberian
exile life very different from anything I ever heard, saw, or read of
in the country itself. Her mistakes, however, were the mistakes such as
any foreign author might easily commit in laying the scene of a story
in a country then almost unknown.

Less excuse can be made for later writers (some of them escaped or
released convicts), who, trading upon the credulity and ignorance
of the public, have retailed and garnished accounts of horrible
severities, which they neither profess to have witnessed, nor
attempt to support by adequate testimony. In one of these books, by
Alexander Hertzen, published in 1855, the author naïvely says in the
preface that, having written in London a work, entitled “Prison and
Exile,” which met with success, he decided to write another volume.
He accordingly did so, and had the audacity to call it “My Exile in
Siberia”; whereas, on reading the book, we find that he was not exiled
to Siberia at all, but simply banished for awhile to Perm, which is
in Russia in Europe! Again we have, in De Lagny’s “Knout and the
Russians,” published in 1854, a tirade against Russia all through, in
which words bad enough can hardly be found to vilify its army, navy,
nobility, and clergy; whilst in the following year was published
“Recollections of Russia by a German Nobleman,” in which he states
that, for prisoners, water was drawn up green from the filthiest canal
in Petersburg; and, as if that were too little, he adds that, after
being knouted, the prisoners had to drink their own blood!

The books quoted thus far are mostly foreign productions, which have
been translated into English; but within the past three years has
been published in London a book called “The Russians of To-day,” by
the author of “The Member for Paris,” and dedicated to the Duke of
Sutherland, which gives the following account of a Russian prison (page
86):--

“A Russian gaol is not built on any wasteful plan of keeping prisoners
warm and comfortable. A black, mouldy house, situate in one of the
slums of the town, it is guarded by a dozen corp-headed soldiers, and
has a painted escutcheon with the Imperial double-headed eagle over the
gate. There is a whipping-post in the front yard. Thieves, murderers,
boys, lunatics, women, are all huddled together in a room of foul
stenches, warmed by a stove, and the only food served out to them is
a pound of black bread in the morning, and a mess of rancid soup at
mid-day. The sexes are separated at night.”

Now as there will appear to be a great difference between this account
and what has been stated in my chapters on Siberian prisons, I think it
only right to say that I have visited Russian houses of detention from
the White Sea in the north to the Black Sea and the Persian frontier
in the south, and from Warsaw in the west to the Pacific in the east,
but have never yet seen a Russian prison such as fairly answers to
the description given above. My experience would place prisons in the
suburbs rather than the “slums” of towns; and as for their atmosphere,
I may safely say that the air I breathed in the worst Russian prison
was incomparably better than that I had temporarily to endure in
some of the peasants’ houses, or which may be inhaled in many of the
post-houses. The “one pound of black bread” should be multiplied by
two and a half or three, and in some cases _four_; and as for “the
whipping-post,” I have seen such a thing in English and in American
prisons, but not in Russia. The “_kobyla_,” or “mare,” used in flogging
with the “_plète_” in _Siberia_, will be described further on; and I
do not deny that in Russia there may be _some_ instrument to which
those to be birched are fastened, but I have never seen one, though I
have usually made a point of asking concerning the mode of corporal
punishment.

Again, the same author says (page 217):--

“The convicts are forwarded to Siberia in convoys, which start at the
commencement of spring, just after the snows have melted and left the
ground dry. They perform the _whole_ journey on foot, escorted by
_mounted_ Cossacks, who are armed with pistols, _lances_, and long
_whips_; and behind them jolt a long string of springless tumbrils,
to carry those who fall lame or ill on the way. The start is _always_
made in the night, and care is taken that the convoys shall only pass
through the towns on their road _after dark_. Each man is dressed in a
grey kaftan, having a _brass numbered plate_ fastened to the _breast_,
_knee_ boots, and a _sheepskin_ bonnet. He carries a _rug_ strapped to
his back, a mess-tin, and a wooden spoon at his girdle. The women have
black cloaks with hoods, and march in gangs by _themselves_, with an
escort of soldiers like the men, and two or three female _warders_, who
travel in carts.

“In leaving large cities like Petersburg, _all_ the prisoners are
chained with their hands _behind their backs_; but their fetters are
removed outside the city, except in the case of men who have been
marked as dangerous. These have to wear leg-chains of 4 lbs. weight all
the way; and some of the more desperate ones are yoked by threes to
a _beam of wood_, which rests on their shoulders, and is fastened to
their necks by iron collars.”

The author then goes on to say that “Nihilist conspirators, patriotic
Poles, and young student girls, are all mixed up, and tramp together
with the criminals.”

The words I have italicised (of which there are 23 in 26 lines)
involve, in many cases, palpable misstatements. In others they are
blunders, or are, at all events, open to serious question. As in the
case of Madame de Cottin (only with less innocence), a very free rein
has been here given to the imagination. The avoiding of towns by day,
the brass plate on the breast (instead of a piece of yellow _cloth_
on the _back_), the accompanying female warders, and the chaining of
men’s hands behind their backs, are _blunders_ utterly inexcusable;
and as for the mounted Cossacks with whips, and the “beams of wood”
on some of the exiles’ necks--_if_ the Cossacks were _mounted_, they
would naturally have whips as part of their accoutrements, as they do
even when riding behind the carriage of the Emperor, but the “beam
of wood” is a pure invention. I never saw, heard, or read of such an
instrument. Upon these last two points, however, to correct my own
opinion if wrong, I spoke to an Englishman living in a town through
which pass all the Siberian exiles. He has lived there many years, and
has seen exiles from Perm to Kiakhta, and under all conditions. He
tells me, however, that he _never_ saw this wooden collar, and never
saw soldiers with whips to conduct exiles; and he added, further, that
he had never witnessed them using exiles improperly or unfairly. Thus
it will be seen that some of the information offered to the public
respecting Russian exiles is open to more than suspicion of grave
misrepresentation.

But there is yet a third class of books which, in detailing past
horrors, leads public opinion astray, not so much by saying what is
absolutely untrue, as by omitting to point out that since the horrors
they relate were enacted, the law has been altered, and that they
are now a thing of the past. Englishmen would think themselves very
unfairly dealt with if a foreigner, having seen an old pair of stocks
in an English village, appealed to this as proof that persons are
still exposed therein; or if he hunted up stories of Tyburn, with
accounts of gibbeted felons hung, drawn, and quartered, or pilloried
criminals with slit noses and cropped ears, and then represented this
as the existing state of things, or left his readers so to infer. This
would be very similar to the treatment Russia receives at the hands of
prejudiced and careless writers now-a-days, as will be seen more fully
hereafter when we speak of the mines.

To keep, however, for the present, to books about prisons, and to
mention one more which has appeared in English dress during the
present year--namely, Dostoyeffsky’s “Buried Alive; or, Ten Years’
Penal Servitude in Siberia,” to which I naturally turned with interest
as it was written by a Russian. I was struck at the outset with the
significant fact that the reader is not properly informed as to places
and dates. The introduction sets forth that a certain Alexander
Petrovitch Goryantchikoff died, after whose death there was found
among his papers a bundle of manuscripts, which the editor, Feodor
Dostoyeffsky, thought would interest the public. But scarcely a word is
dropped to inform the reader when the events referred to took place,
and he is left to form the very natural conclusion that he is reading
of things as they now exist. My suspicions being aroused, I put on my
best critical spectacles to discover, if possible, _where_ the events
happened, and _when_. The writer mentions having been in Tobolsk,
and says that his prison was near the banks of the Irtish. Now there
was, and perhaps is, a prison on the banks of the Irtish at Tara, the
same from which Rufin Pietrowski made his escape; and at first I was
disposed to think this was the place of Goryantchikoff’s captivity,
but two subsequent allusions gave me additional light: one, that in
the prison was a Jew who went out in the town to a _synagogue_; and
another, that on some prisoners running away the _Governor-General_
was told of it. Now, assuming that the Governor-General was living in
the town, then the only prison situate on the banks of the Irtish, in
a town with a synagogue and the residence of a Governor-General, would
be Omsk, and here accordingly I adjudged my man as to his _place_.
Then as for the _date_. The writer speaks of prisoners’ chains made of
“four iron rods, the size of the finger, connected by three rings and
worn under the trousers.” I saw none like these. All we saw had small
_links_, and hence I assumed that the chains described must have been
of an old-fashioned pattern of former days, and I have since learnt
that chains such as the man describes were seen on a prisoner going
to the Caucasus in 1842. Next he speaks a good deal of flogging, and
mentions the running of a prisoner down “the green lane,” that is,
between two rows of soldiers, each of whom gave the culprit a stroke
with a stick. But this method of punishment has long been abolished in
Russia; and, finally, the writer, when speaking of his conversation
with a fellow-prisoner, happens to use this sentence: “I explained to
him Napoleon’s position, adding that he might, perhaps, some day become
Emperor of the French.” Taking, therefore, these three _data_, that
Napoleon became Emperor in 1851, that the flogging of the description
mentioned was abolished not later than 1860, and the old pattern of the
chains, I came to the conclusion that the story must represent events
at least 30 years old; and I have since heard that it was about as
long ago the book appeared in Russia. Now, of course, the translation
might not have sold so well had readers been informed that it treats of
a state of things more than a quarter of a century old; yet, no doubt,
so candid a statement would have prevented many from forming false
opinions respecting the present state of Siberian prisons.[1]

But Goryantchikoff’s, it should be remembered, is a picture of a
convict prison for _criminals_, and not for _political_ prisoners, who
are treated as a class by themselves,--so much so that they are sent
to Siberia, not usually walking, under the charge of Cossacks, but
driving furiously under guard of gendarmes; and if they need to lodge
at an ordinary prison, they are kept in special rooms, and so jealously
watched that frequently I was not allowed to approach the inspection
hole so much as to look at them. It may be that when they reach their
destination they have, in some cases, to work outdoors in company with
criminals. I think I met one case of this at Kara, but even he, in the
prison, was kept apart.

Probably the best, and, as far as I know, the only book in English
which gives the description by an eye-witness of life in a _political_
prison is “Russian Conspirators in Siberia,” by Baron R(osen). He
relates his taking part in the attempt to incite the soldiers to revolt
on the accession of Nicolas in 1825, and how he was condemned with
120 comrades, large numbers of whom were counts, barons, princes, and
some of the very flower of the Russian nobility. About 30 were at once
transported to Chita. There they remained until a new prison was built
expressly to contain them all at Petrovski, near Verchne Udinsk, at
which place are the ironworks already alluded to. In these two places
of confinement the Baron spent six years. I do not remember that he
ever speaks of one of his comrades being thrashed. The Russian law,
even in those days, held exempt from corporal punishments every noble,
not only during his trial, but after his condemnation. The wearing of
chains was included among corporal punishments, and it was forbidden to
put them on nobles going into exile; but the law appears to have been
set aside in the case of some of the Decembrists. The Baron describes
their labour as that of digging and grinding corn in hand-mills. One
of their first occupations was to dig the foundations for their new
prison. “Every day,” the Baron writes, “except Sundays and holy days,
the non-commissioned officer on guard entered early in the morning with
the call of ‘Gentlemen, to work!’ In general we set out with songs
on our lips and energy in our hearts; no constraint was used towards
us.” He gives likewise a vivid picture of their amusements and their
studies. Playing-cards they might have had through the warders, but
they wisely passed their word to each other not to allow card-playing,
in order to prevent any cause of unpleasantness or dissension. Chess
was their sole amusement between the time of work and sleep, and they
formed among themselves a company of singers, which cheered many a sad
hour. Some of them endeavoured, by study, further to improve their
minds. One learnt not only Latin and Greek, but also eight modern
languages; and it says much for the high education of the prisoners
that this proficient found an instructor in each of the languages
among his comrades, one of whom was still living, not many years ago,
at Petrovsky Zavod, and lent my informant several books from what was
the Decembrist library. They had, too, a room in which they practised
the piano, the flute, the flageolet, the violin, and guitar. The most
touching part of the book, however, recounts the arrival of some of
the prisoners’ wives. Every effort short of absolute denial had been
employed to prevent these noble ladies from expatriating themselves.
Their heroic determination wrung tears from the eyes of the officials
who had in vain dissuaded them. These ladies were compelled to resign
their titles, and were warned that they would not be permitted to
return. Several of them, notwithstanding, gave up all to be allowed to
join their husbands, and in so doing covered their names with undying
lustre in the annals of Russian history. They were allowed to live with
or near their husbands, and several had children, two of whom--a lady
and a gentleman--I have met in Europe. The Baron’s book nowhere stoops
to invective or misrepresentation; on the contrary, he acknowledges
“there was reason enough for our having been treated thus”; but at
the same time he tells a sad story, which is all the more touching
because told so calmly, of what he and his comrades suffered. He was
at length allowed to return to his home in Esthonia, in 1839, after 14
years’ imprisonment and exile. About 500 non-commissioned officers and
soldiers, I am told, were sent to Omsk and different places, where they
were by far less well treated than their superior officers under whom
they had rebelled.[2]

I have thus spoken of the political or State prison at Petrovski,
which, as far as I know, is the only building there has ever been
in Siberia that could with propriety be called a State prison for
political offenders. It was burnt down many years ago, and has not
been rebuilt. Of the prison at Chita, and the accommodation for
political prisoners at Kara, mention will be made hereafter. Meanwhile
it should be borne in mind we have been speaking of events which
happened about half a century ago.

We now pass from the condition of political prisoners as they _were_
to treat of political prisoners as they _are_. I shall speak of those
with whom I was brought in contact and with whom I conversed, and will
put the worst case first. It is that of a Pole, who was concerned
in the insurrection of 1863, at which time he was a student for the
Roman priesthood, and, under cover of his clerical garb, had busied
himself in procuring arms and provisions for the Polish rebels. On
the suppression of the insurrection he fled from the country, but was
foolish enough to return, six years afterwards, by permission, he
said, of the Emperor; and within three days was taken, and, without
trial, sent to a prison at Oriel for a year. After this he was sent to
Irkutsk, and there learned that he was condemned for eight years to the
mines, at which he arrived in 1871, having been a year on the route
from Tiumen. He had 20 Polish companion exiles, some of whom were in
irons, though his clerical character saved him from this degradation.
The Polish party travelled by themselves as far as Tobolsk, beyond
which they were sometimes compelled to walk and lodge with criminal
prisoners, who robbed my informant of 300 roubles, which his mother
had sewn at the back of his coat collar. He complained that some of
the prison officers were great despots; in illustration of which he
stated how, whilst they were at Nijni Udinsk, some of the prisoners
having escaped at night, the governor of the jail procured rods from
the neighbouring woods and birched the rest of them, I suppose on the
ground of aiding and abetting the escape of the others. The 21 Poles,
however, were not in the ward from which the escape was made, and this
they urged, but apparently to no purpose, for the governor seemed to
have been enraged beyond bounds, and in some cases to have used, not
only rods, but the plète and clubs. My informant declared that of the
300 Russians and 21 Poles thus treated, 17 subsequently died, though he
could not give me any satisfactory evidence as to how, after leaving
the place, he got this information; but the affair must have been
serious (though abnormal), for, on arriving at Irkutsk they presented
a petition to the governor, an inquiry was instituted (especially as
regards the Poles), and the violent prison official was telegraphed
for, and himself incarcerated, though how punished my informant did not
know. He also complained that one of his companions was badly treated
on the road, being lame, and yet made to hurry along.

When, however, the Polish cleric arrived at the mines, he did not
appear to have once worked in them, as the chief made him his cook,
exchanged his prison allowance for five roubles a month, and fed and
lodged him thus for six years, after which the remaining two years
were remitted on the score of good conduct. He was afterwards located
in a small village in the Za-Baikal, but had obtained permission to
live elsewhere, and when I met him he was respectably dressed, and
apparently earning a good livelihood. Thus my informant’s _gravamina_,
as regarded himself, were not so heavy as it might have been feared.
He said, indeed, that four or five letters reached him at the mines,
informing him that money was enclosed, which he never received.

He had more to say of the way in which some of his fellow-prisoners
were treated, to which I shall allude when speaking hereafter of the
mines.[3]

I did, it is true, meet another Pole who complained, though I do not
know whether he was a political or a criminal offender, but I have
already referred to him and the information he gave me respecting the
prison at Irkutsk. There was a third Pole, also a student, banished
after the insurrection of 1863, whom we met in the streets of Atchinsk,
who looked very gloomy, and spoke in a very dispirited and dissatisfied
manner; but he was free, having his wife and children with him, and he
named no one particular cause of complaint. Still, I have mentioned
these cases fully, though they seem somewhat opposed to the opinion
I have stated, that there exists a great deal of misapprehension
respecting the number, misery, and degradation of Russian political
prisoners.

The severest case of punishment of a political prisoner I met with
was that of, I think, a Nihilist, at Kara, who had daily to go to
work in the gold-mines; but, on returning, he had a room to himself,
some of his own furniture, fittings, and books, one of which was on
political economy. His wife lived in the neighbourhood, and could see
him lawfully, and bring him food at frequent intervals; and it was
not difficult for her to see him unlawfully, for just in front of his
window passed the public road, where she could stand and talk to him
with ease.

I met in Siberia one political prisoner whose case was more surprising,
perhaps, than any I have mentioned. It was that of a man who had been
concerned in one of the attempts upon the life of the late Emperor. He
was sentenced to the mines, and no doubt popular imagination pictured
him chained, and tormented to within an inch of his life; whereas I
found him confined indeed, but only to the neighbourhood, and dressed,
if I remember rightly, in a tweed suit, looking highly presentable,
and engaged in a way that I purposely avoid naming, but which did not
necessitate the soiling of his fingers. Again, I had two opportunities
of speaking to upper-class prisoners in French, which the authorities
accompanying me did not understand; therefore these men had no reason
to fear speaking out plainly. One was a political prisoner; concerning
the other I am not sure; but I asked them both whether they had any
cause of complaint in the prison regimen. The first said the only
thing he thought unjust was that he was not allowed to smoke, which
one of my exile informants deems incredible, since at Nertchinsk,
when, for insubordination, they were deprived of meat, milk, and tea,
for weeks, they were still allowed to smoke, as a supposed preventive
against scurvy. The man, moreover, in the neighbouring cell--a fat
man--a defaulting post-master, a drunkard and a gambler, who would have
made an admirable Falstaff, was smoking, and I should not wonder if
by this time the grievance is mended. The second man, a doctor, said
that he had been taken about from place to place, and did not know his
destination, though he thought it would be Irkutsk, but that he had
nothing to complain of.

Supposing, then, that these instances throw any light upon the misery
and alleged degradation of political prisoners, I have yet to offer
some remarks upon their supposed numbers--that is, the average number
banished annually at the time of my visit--for I do not profess here
to deal with those sent into exile after the Polish insurrection of
1863, with their families and descendants, nor of Nihilists deported
since the assassination of the late Emperor. Mr. Whyte, in his “Land
Journey from Asia to Europe,” says: “It is calculated that in Eastern
Siberia alone there are at least from 30,000 to 40,000 _Polish
political_ exiles, but they are kept in different portions for fear
of disturbances, a great many having to work in the mines.” Now let
us suppose for the moment that these figures are something like the
truth, then let us add to this calculation for Eastern Siberia, whither
are banished the gravest offenders, at least twice as many for Western
Siberia, whither are sent those losing particular rights only; and this
will give, say, 120,000 Polish political exiles in the whole country.
Let us further suppose that they represent the surviving total of 30
years’ deportations, not including, of course, their families and
descendants. Then this gives a yearly influx to Siberia of 4,000 Polish
_political_ exiles! Now from statistics given me in Warsaw last autumn,
taken from the report sent to the Emperor, it appeared that the total
number of Polish _criminal_ prisoners sent to Siberia in the year I
passed through (1879) was 898; and last year, up to September, the
number, as I had it straight from the prison books, was 270. Supposing,
then, the politicals to number one-tenth of the criminals (which I
judge far too great a proportion), it would give less than one-fortieth
of the numbers quoted by Mr. Whyte respecting Polish political exiles.

I base my opinion, however, mainly upon other calculations, such
as these: the prisoners must sometimes be lodged, permanently or
temporarily, as they go to their destinations. But it has been already
stated that there is now no building in Siberia answering to a State
prison, and further that political prisoners, when confined, are kept
not only apart from criminals, but as far as possible from one another.
I fail to see, then, where all these multitudes are to be properly
lodged, as at Tiumen, for instance, whilst they wait for the arrival of
the steamer, or at other prisons where they may have to stop, but in
none of which we found more than a very few separate chambers--always
less, I think, than 20. Again, another difficulty is presented by the
possibilities of separate conveyance for so large a number. It is not
very long since that 78 political exiles passed through Tiumen, a town
where, in summer, from 500 to 700 criminals pass through weekly; but
these 78 politicals excited such a commotion that there was a general
“turn out” to look at them; and the manager of the steamboat was at his
wits’ end to know how properly to convey them; for political prisoners
are not now sent, I am informed, in the common prisoners’ barges.
To give each man a cabin was impossible; to put two in a cabin was
unlawful; and so they compromised the matter by putting husbands and
wives together. But, if a batch of 78 made all this commotion, what
would the annual passing through of 4,000 _politicals_ do?

Again, Kara, I was told, was a special place for political offenders,
and I saw and heard of more there than in any other prison. They had,
at the time of my visit, 2,458 prisoners of all sorts, all of whose
crimes were given me duly tabulated, with the exception of 73, which
came under the heading “_various_.” Now, supposing all these 73 were
political offenders (and I have not the least reason for thinking
they were, but) even then the proportion of politicals would be only
one-thirtieth of the criminals.

Once more: a recent correspondent of the _Gaulois_ for 30th September,
1881, describing the last occasion on which he saw the exiled
Tchernichewsky at Kadaya, near Nertchinsk, just after the news had been
received of the assassination of President Lincoln, says, “At this time
the number of (Russian?) political prisoners was not great; they might
easily be counted.... I believe there were not 20 of them; if mistaken,
I may certainly affirm there were not 50.” This scrap of information
has come to hand very opportunely, for I have reason to believe that
it may be relied on, and Nertchinsk was the only other district for
political prisoners concerning which, until a few days ago, I did not
feel satisfactorily informed.

Lastly, the summer of 1879 was supposed to be a very heavy one for the
transport of Nihilists and revolutionary offenders. It was just after
one of the attempts on the late Emperor’s life, and Petersburg was put
under a military governor. The _Daily Telegraph_, on the 2nd June,
informed its readers, as I have said before, that “a large number of
convicts were about to be despatched to Saghalien from Odessa, the
service which provides for the ordinary transportation of criminals to
Siberia being already overtaxed.” We were therefore traversing Siberia
at a time and under circumstances particularly favourable for knowing
the real condition of things; and as we went along the only route by
which these exiles could possibly travel to Eastern Siberia, it might
have been expected that we should see or hear something of them. The
numbers, however, with whom we were brought in contact on the outward
journey could easily have been counted on our fingers; and if it should
seem that, having started early in the season, we had travelled in
advance of them, then my interpreter, who returned from the Amur, had
the opportunity of meeting them, or hearing of them, as he went back.
As a matter of fact, however, he met, between the Amur and the Urals,
three special convoys only. The first contained one prisoner, who said
he was going to Kara; the next consisted of seven vehicles, each of
which contained a soldier on the box, and a gendarme at the side of the
prisoner; and the third convoy consisted of 21 vehicles, each filled in
like manner. Thus, excepting the 78, or the possible 73 just mentioned,
the total number we met or _definitely_ heard of all across Asia, both
in going and returning, did not amount, I should think, to 50.

I write, then, under correction, and shall be glad to be set right if I
am wrong; but I must now leave it to my readers to judge whether or not
the considerations brought forward are such as to justify my opinion
respecting the number, degradation, and misery of political prisoners.
I have few statistics on the point, from the fact that political
offenders are treated as belonging to a special department, and are
unconnected with the ordinary sources from which I obtained my figures.
This I did not know until I had left European Russia, and hence my
inability to give other than general reasons. My impression, therefore,
is that the greater number of the political exiles either go to prison
only for a short time, or not at all, and are then placed in villages
and towns. They are then expected to get their living. (I have recently
heard that, at the time of the burning of Krasnoiarsk, there were 40
living free in the town.)

This they do in a variety of ways. Some are teachers of languages,
some are tradesmen, and some are photographers. We met, for instance,
two exile photographers at Tobolsk. As strangers we had, of course, no
means of identifying exiles from other people, though we were sometimes
brought into contact with them, from the fact that many of the Poles
speak French. Moreover, as the question of prison and exiles was, so
to say, my speciality, I was always glad, when opportunity presented
itself, to converse with them directly rather than get my information
translated. A stranger, however, who believes every exile who calls
himself a “political,” may easily be misled. To be a “political”
prisoner in Siberia is to be more or less of a gentleman, and many try
thus to pass themselves off. Mr. Ashton Dilke, M.P., who travelled some
years ago in Southern Siberia, and spoke Russian, has told me that,
on asking gangs of convicts if they had any politicals or “gentlemen”
prisoners among them, they usually said “No”; and that, in the case
of one man who imposed upon him and tried to palm himself off as a
“political,” the Governor showed Mr. Dilke the man’s papers, which
described him as a criminal, a thief, etc.

In Irkutsk I met an exile who told me he was a captain, and had been
banished for a duel, which no doubt he thought a respectable crime;
but, upon my repeating it to others who knew the man, they said he was
a forger. Looking, however, at the political prisoners I saw in the
separate rooms of the various prisons, at those with whom I came into
personal contact, those pointed out to me, and those of whom mention
was made as living in the towns through which we passed, I think that,
if I had been commissioned to give a sovereign to each, 50 coins would
have sufficed for the purpose. It is not pretended, of course, that a
lover of statistics can or ought to attempt to build anything definite
upon this statement; but, until proof is brought to the contrary, it
may perhaps tend to modify what I deem the exaggerated and extravagant
notions as to the number of Siberian _political_ prisoners, and to show
at least that they are not as “plentiful as blackberries.”[4]

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Let me not fail to add, however, that the whole tone of
Dostoyeffsky’s book is far above that of the vindictive class of
writers, some of whom have been alluded to. It gives an inner view
of prison life, such as no inspector, or philanthropist, or person
visiting prisons as I did, could furnish. Some of this writer’s
statements, indeed, would hardly tally with my own experience, as,
for instance, that they had the bath _seldom_, whereas I found it the
rule once a fortnight, and at Tiumen and Tomsk once a week; above
all, the statement that prisoners were thrashed if found sleeping on
their backs, or the left side instead of the right; also what he says
of thrashing generally, to which I shall allude hereafter. But I have
to thank Alexander Goryantchikoff for his lifelike pictures, many
of which illustrate scraps of information I received concerning the
Siberian prison world--such, for instance, as the various occupations
carried on in secret among the convicts, one being a pawnbroker,
another a _vodka_ seller, others smugglers of spirits into the
prison, the card-playing at night, the exchanging of their names and
punishments, and the horrible language and fighting and quarrelling
of the prisoners. In these things I make no doubt that “Buried Alive”
gives a fairly accurate picture of things as they were, and in some
cases still are, perhaps, among such prisoners as those with whom the
lot of Goryantchikoff (himself a murderer) was cast. Further light also
is thrown upon the interior of prison life in Siberia by the papers
of M. Andreoli in _La Revue Moderne_ for 1868, in which he speaks of
the tricks and vices of both prisoners and officials, and of the evil
effects of the gang system. A great deal of this is inevitable where a
number of the most desperate felons are herded together.

[2] I have been favoured with a few particulars from an unpublished
manuscript, written by a Decembrist prisoner for the use of his wife
and children. He describes his cell at the fortress in Petersburg
as small, dirty, and dark; and speaks of a poor and scanty diet,
adding, “C’était l’Empereur, qui, sur le rapport du comité d’enquête
prescrivait, le régime diétique ainsi que la dure aggravation d’une
détention penible.” He had to leave Petersburg, and many of his
comrades with him, in the middle of the night, in chains (though a
noble), and was not allowed to bid his mother good-bye, though she was
in the next room to him at the post-station. They left in a _telega_,
travelling _viâ_ Jaroslav, Kostroma, Viatka, Ekaterineburg, Omsk, etc.,
and reached Irkutsk in 24 days. At Chita they were kindly treated by
the governor of the prison and attendants, and later on, when allowed
to colonize at Irkutsk and Tobolsk, suffered no hardships, excepting
petty restrictions and vexations.

[3] Perhaps I ought to add that this information was given me in
French, which the Pole had not conversed in for a long time, and did
not speak readily. It was given, too, with a good deal of bitter
feeling, whilst I made notes of what was told me. As he looked on at my
writing, and knew pretty well who I was, and what I was travelling for,
I felt he might be exaggerating, and I therefore asked him pointedly
whether all he had told me was true. He replied in the affirmative,
and I therefore hand on the account to my readers, though, as will be
seen later on, it was a much severer testimony than I received from
political prisoners in general.

[4] Since this chapter has been in type my impressions have been
strikingly confirmed by an official, high in the prison administration,
who in reply to my written inquiries as to the number of political
prisoners sent to Siberia during the last few years, replies that
the deportation of political offenders came under the _prison_
administration only in 1880, but that for the present year, 1881, the
total number of political offenders of _all_ kinds, sent to Siberia, is
72; which number, moreover, includes nearly 40 condemned to the mines
during the years 1875-6-9-80, but who have been detained meanwhile in
the central prisons of the Kharkof district. The year, therefore (up
to November), of the Emperor’s assassination has sent about 30 persons
into exile.

CHAPTER XXXII.

_FROM CHITA TO NERTCHINSK._

The Trans-Baikal province.--Books deposited with Governor.--Specimen
letter of consignment.--Prisons and hospitals.--Governor’s
distribution of books.--Satisfactory results.--Journey from
Chita.--Buriat _Obos_.--Russian emigrants.--Salutations.--Approach
to Nertchinsk.--Its mineral treasures.

The Trans-Baikal province is bounded on the south and east by Chinese
territory, on the west by Lake Baikal, and on the north by the province
of Yakutsk. It measures 830 miles from east to west, and 460 miles from
north to south; its entire area covering about 240,000 square miles. It
is thus not quite so large as Austria.[1]

Before leaving the capital, Chita, we deposited with the Governor
enough books for his prisons and hospitals; and since this region
was so important, from my point of view, in regard to its penal
establishments, and our efforts, moreover, here met with such good
success, I shall give the substance of a letter which I wrote to the
Governor (in French), and which is a fair specimen of similar letters
written to the other Governors throughout Siberia:--

“TO HIS EXCELLENCY THE GOVERNOR OF ----.

“SIR,--

“I have the honour to beg your acceptance of -- boxes of books
containing -- large New Testaments, -- small New Testaments,
-- Gospels, -- Psalms, -- New Testaments in French, German,
Polish, Tatar, and Buriat, -- copies of the _Rooski Rabotchi_, --
wall-pictures, and -- tracts. Will your Excellency do me the favour
to accept them for the prisons, hospitals, poor-houses, and schools
of the government of ----? I shall be thankful if the copies of the
_Rooski Rabotchi_ (Russian Workman) and the tracts may be given
to the children in schools to be taken to their homes, and thus
distributed as much as possible among the people. As for the books,
I wish that they should remain in the rooms (not in the libraries)
of the prisons, hospitals, etc. If the chief of each room may be
made responsible for the books as for the other property of the
prisons, etc., I shall be glad; but in any case I wish that the books
may be had without asking for them from the library. I hope with
your assistance in the government of ---- to place a New Testament
or a copy of the Gospels in _every_ room of _every_ prison and
hospital throughout Siberia; and I shall be very thankful if I may
hear from you, at my English address, how the distribution has been
made, because I shall probably send an account of my tour to the
authorities at St. Petersburg.

“I have the honour to be, etc., etc., etc.”

The Governor of the Trans-Baikal province, M. Pedachenko, spoke of
his four large hospitals and 10 smaller, or occasional hospitals. He
told us also that he had in his government four permanent prisons,
besides those at the mines, namely, at Nertchinsk, Troitzkosavsk,
Verchne Udinsk, and Chita, the last three of which we saw. The number
of prisoners was given us as about 150 each at Chita and Nertchinsk.[2]
M. Pedachenko was good enough to promise that a small shelf should be
put up in each room (under the _ikon_ I suggested), on which the books
might rest when not in use; and this promise he carried out.[3]

I have dwelt particularly on what we were able to distribute in the
Za-Baikal for two reasons; first, because the letter of the Governor,
together with our own observations, give an insight into the number
of prisons existing in this province, which of all others was that
reserved for the worst of exiles; and, secondly, because of the
satisfaction it afforded me, when looking back upon the work as a
whole, to feel that the Scriptures and other reading material had been
deposited in these out-of-the-way places, especially those of Kara,
Nertchinsk, and Algatche. Had nothing more been effected than this, and
what I subsequently learned was done at Tiumen, these two results would
have well repaid me for the journey.

Late on the afternoon of Monday, July 21st, the day of our arrival, we
left Chita and proceeded towards Nertchinsk, a distance of 180 miles,
where we intended to make our next stoppage. The road ran within sight
of the river, and as the route was hilly we had pretty views. Some of
the hills I measured as 400 feet above the level of the river, and my
barometer, at the highest point, stood at 2,350 feet above the sea. The
hills were rounded and well wooded, whilst the lower land resembled
English downs. We saw some of the flora of which Baron Rosen speaks so
admiringly, and among them a flower we had not noticed before, like
blue larkspur. On both sides of the Yablonoi range are grown wheat,
rye, oats, hemp, flax, potatoes, cabbage, turnips, lettuce, radishes,
onions, spinach, and horseradish. In the valleys was abundance of
grass, but few cattle to graze it. We saw also buckwheat and barley
growing, but neither the fields under cultivation, nor the Russian
inhabitants, were numerous, nor did we come in contact, after passing
Chita, with many Buriats, though we inspected one of their sacred spots
on a hill not far from that town. It consisted of a few rough stones
piled together, with some dried branches of trees, on which were hung
small flags and strips of calico, having inscribed on them verses in
the Thibetan or Mongolian language. We had passed several of these
south of the Baikal, and the Russian drivers had usually told us that
they were Buriats’ graves. Sometimes there were sweetmeats lying about,
and copper money, which the Russian yemstchiks did not scruple to
collect and pocket. Sometimes, too, we found horse-shoes strewn around,
and almost invariably a quantity of tufts of horse-hair tied to the
bushes, the appearance of the whole reminding one of the so-called holy
wells to which the Romanists of Ireland make pilgrimage. The yemstchiks
said that the flags painted with demons were to frighten devils away,
and that the coins and sweets were given as offerings to their God; but
that if a Buriat had nothing to give, he cut off a piece of his horse’s
tail and tied it to the bush.

I noticed that these spots were usually on elevated ground, like the
“high places” denounced by the Hebrew prophets, and after reading the
travels of Huc, Erman, and Hill, I make no doubt that they were not
Buriats’ graves at all, but the _obos_ which are erected throughout
Tartary, and at which the people worship the spirits of the mountains,
a superstition of the Shamanist Buriats, which extends, at least
partially, to other aboriginal tribes in Siberia.[4]

As we passed along the road, we sometimes overtook companies of
emigrants from Russia, or from other parts of Siberia, who were
wandering further east. We heard, at Barnaul, that peasants are
encouraged thus to migrate. Also, we sometimes drove by labourers in
the fields, which gave an opportunity to the passing yemstchik to
salute them in Russian fashion: “_Bogh pomotch_,” “May God be your
help,” to which the reply is, “_Spasibo_,” “Thank you,” or “Save you!”
a very similar custom to that I have observed in the west of Ireland,
where the car-driver accosts his brother Pat, digging potatoes, with
a “Bal o’ ye airth,” “God bless the work,” or, more probably, it will
be, “God and Mary bless the work,” to which Pat replies, “And you too.”
They both remind one of the salutation of the Hebrew, Boaz, “The Lord
be with you!” to which his reapers replied, “The Lord bless thee!”

I confess to having been sometimes tired of travelling so many days
without being able to read; I managed to get through only two or three
small works, for, notwithstanding my air-cushions and a paper-knife
placed below the line I was looking at, the shaking of the tarantass
rendered study almost impossible. After leaving Chita on Monday, we
travelled all day and all night on Tuesday, and on Wednesday found
ourselves approaching Nertchinsk, a town surrounded by a hilly district
noted for its minerals. The mining region extends over a large area,
and for a long period of years provided employment to vast numbers of
convicts, as also for many Polish exiles after the insurrection of
1863. The mines were worked under the supervision and direction of an
able chief, with a numerous staff of officers; and many distinguished
mineralogists here commenced their career. Up to the year 1847, silver
and lead formed the principal products.[5] Tin and zinc also, and the
aqua marina are found in the neighbourhood of Nertchinsk, and 130
miles to the south is the mountain of Odon Tchelon, celebrated for
its gems, including the topaz and emerald, which latter Mr. Erman
speaks of as green, yellow, and blue. To these minerals must be added
gold, which is found in large quantities in the bed of the Nertcha and
its tributaries, besides iron, antimony, and arsenic. In Petersburg,
I heard the gold-mines of Nertchinsk spoken of as “large and well
worked”; but other reports went to show that the Government mines
brought in little to the Crown; and we heard that most of them about
Nertchinsk have been sold, so that mining affairs at the time of our
visit were in a transition state.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] The surface is mountainous; one range, the Yablonoi, running from
north to south, is the watershed of numerous rivers. The streams from
the western slopes drain into Lake Baikal; the largest one towards
the north, the Vitim, finds its way to the Lena, whilst the remainder
run into the Argun, which flows at the south of the province and
into the Ingoda and Onon, which form the Shilka. The population of
the government is 430,000, of which the town inhabitants number only
4 per cent. In 1867 the population was 380,000, of whom there were
400 hereditary nobles, 1,000 personally noble, 1,700 ecclesiastical
persons, 11,000 townspeople, 109,000 rural inhabitants, 4,000 military,
9 foreigners, and 164,000 natives. The present population is quoted as
10,000 less than that given by the Almanack for 1875, which diminution
probably arises from emigration to the region of the Amur, and from
the Government sending fewer exiles here than formerly. There were
throughout the government, in the year 1875, about 3,000 marriages,
16,000 births, and 12,000 deaths. The province is divided into seven
uyezds; and among its principal towns, besides the capital, are
Verchne Udinsk, Selenginsk, and Troitzkosavsk, on or near the Selenga,
Barguzin, near the Baikal, and Nertchinsk, to all of which we went with
the exception of Barguzin. Barguzin is the chief town of the district,
but is not otherwise remarkable.

[2] We had deposited with the Ispravniks of Verchne Udinsk and
Troitzkosavsk Russian New Testaments, Tatar Gospels, and Buriat
Scriptures for the prisons and for the Troitzkosavsk poor-house, which
last, as far as I remember, was the only one of this kind we heard of
during our tour, unless it were at Perm, and, perhaps, Barnaul. In
addition to these the Governor at Chita accepted 25 wall-pictures of
the Prodigal Son, 12 Tatar Gospels, 14 large Russian New Testaments, 50
small ones, 60 Russian Gospels, 20 Psalms, 3 New Testaments in Polish,
French, and German, 38 Buriat portions, 75 copies of the _Russian
Workman_, and 200 tracts.

[3] At a further stage of my journey I had the opportunity of sending
additional books to M. Pedachenko, and on the following February 4th I
received in England the following letter:--

TCHITA, _le 12 Decembre, 1879._

MONSIEUR,--Je me fais un plaisir de vous faire savoir, que j’ai reçu
votre lettre du 9 Juillet de même que les livres et les brochures
religieuses, qui ont été tous distribués.

A _Kara_: Dans les prisons, les hôpitaux, et l’établissement de
charité, d’ Alexandre:--

13 Papiers pour les murailles,
43 Petits Evangiles,
7 Grands Evangiles,
8 Psaumes,
3 Nouveaux Testaments Polonais, Français, Allemands,
29 Brochures _Rouski Rabotchi_,
60 Différentes brochures,
22 Anciens Testaments Mongols.

A _Algatche_: Dans les prisons et les hôpitaux:--

3 Papiers pours les murailles,
2 Psaumes,
2 Grands Evangiles,
9 _Rouski Rabotchi_,
13 Petits Evangiles,
15 Brochures religieuses.

A _Nertchinsk_: Dans l’hôpital et la prison:--

2 Papiers pours les murailles,
2 Psaumes,
1 Grand Evangile,
9 _Rouski Rabotchi_,
13 Petits Evangiles,
9 Brochures religieuses,
4 Anciens Testaments Mongols.

A _Tchita_: Dans la prison:--

2 Papiers pour les murailles,
13 Psaumes,
1 Grand Evangile,
10 _Rouski Rabotchi_,
14 Petits Evangiles,
10 Brochures religieuses,
4 Anciens Testaments Mongols.

Pour les _Forçats de Nertchinsk_:--

3 Papiers pour les murailles,
2 Grands Evangiles,
15 _Rouski Rabotchi_,
13 Petits Evangiles,
9 Brochures religieuses,
2 Psaumes,
4 Anciens Testaments Mongols.

A l’hôpital de _Strétinsk_:--

2 Papiers pour les murailles,
1 Ancien Testament Tatare,
3 Brochures religieuses.

D’après votre désir, Monsieur, les livres distribués dans les prisons
et les hôpitaux sont placés sur des tablettes, afin qu’on puisse s’en
servir en tout temps. Les serviteurs sont chargés de les tenir en
ordre.

Recevez, Monsieur, mes plus sincères remerciements pour votre
précieuse offrande,

J’ai l’honneur d’être,
Votre très humble serviteur,
(Signed) JEAN PEDACHENKO.

[4] The natives believe that their shamans have more power than
other people with the spirits infesting the mountains. Accordingly,
sacrifices are offered to these spirits, and are carried off secretly
by the shamans. Horse-hair seems to hold a conspicuous place in
connection with their superstitions. Mr. Erman speaks of the practice
of the Yakutes in tying knots of it on trees; and Mr. Hill states
that the Yakutes informed him that the rites of their ancient worship
consisted for the most part in sacrifices to invisible spirits, and
that portions of the horses’ tails were attached to trees to notify
to the spirits who might chance to pass by that such rites had been
performed, and that thereabouts they would find the offered sacrifice.
From the oldest times the Buriats have been accustomed about midsummer,
when the cattle are in good condition, to celebrate festivals for the
good spirits, the rites being followed by wrestling matches, and other
popular amusements; and the crafty Buddhist lamas have recognised and
sanctioned these ancient usages, in order that the Buriats may regard
the new religion only as an extension or completion of the old.

[5] Of the former 4 tons, and of the latter 570 tons, were produced
annually. The discovery of lead was of great importance, as it had been
previously necessary to bring it all the way from England to Barnaul
for the smelting of the ores of the Altai, in which region little or
no lead is found. The lead of Nertchinsk, however, did not find its
way so far as the Russian arsenals, because, by reason of carriage, it
would have cost six times the price of English lead delivered either in
Petersburg or Moscow.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

_THE SILVER AND (SO-CALLED) QUICKSILVER MINES OF NERTCHINSK._

The supposed quicksilver-mines.--Inadequate evidence of their
existence.--Unsupported statements of writers.--Not known to
Anglo-Siberians.--Silver-mines perhaps intended.--Deleterious
fumes a myth.--Questionable allegations regarding
silver-mines.--Misstatements exposed.--Testimonies of Collins
and other eye-witnesses.--Accounts of ex-prisoners and Lutheran
pastor.--Nertchinsk Zavod and work in the mines.--Condition
of affairs in 1866.--Present state of things.--The Nemesis of
exaggeration.

When crossing the Pacific I heard it remarked by an American clergyman
that Mrs. Beecher Stowe, in her exaggerated account, as he thought it,
of American slavery, showed great shrewdness in assigning to her story
a locality that was very remote and unknown to most of her readers.
A similar observation might be made in regard to not a few of the
writers on Siberian exiles and their labours in the mines. How the idea
first came into my mind I know not, but when in 1874 an Englishman,
born in Russia, told me in Petersburg that the worst of Russian
criminals were put down in quicksilver-mines in Siberia, where they
were speedily killed by unhealthy fumes, it seemed to me like an item
of news I had heard before. Since my return from Siberia the question
has been frequently put to me, Did you go to the quicksilver-mines,
where the exiles are so cruelly treated? Baron Rosen also wrote,
“Eight persons of the above-mentioned eleven criminal categories were
dispatched at once to the quicksilver-mines of Nertchinsk; ... they
worked for long years underground in the mines, like the other forced
labourers.” Again, the _Newcastle Daily Chronicle_ for 21st November,
1878, quoting, apparently, Captain Wiggins, says: “Desperate criminals
only are sent to labour in the quicksilver-mines, and for these there
is a specially severe discipline provided, and ‘horrors,’ without
doubt, exist.” And I have somewhere read, if I mistake not, that in the
vicinity of Nertchinsk was a quicksilver-mine, which for a time was
worked, but that the loss of life entailed upon the convict labourers
was so great as to cause it to be given up.

Now it is somewhat remarkable that I have been unable to learn that
there is a quicksilver-mine in Siberia at all, or to get satisfactory
proof that one ever existed. This may perhaps surprise my readers, but
I proceed to explain myself thus:--The “English Cyclopædia,” under
the article “Mercury,” mentions various places where this mineral is
found, but says nothing of Siberia. Yet surely, if mines exist there,
affording employment for numerous labourers, we ought to hear something
of their output. Again, in “Ure’s Dictionary of Arts, Manufactures,
and Mines,” a standard book on mining (p. 120), we find a good deal
concerning the mines of Siberia, of those in the Urals, the Altai,
and Daouria (which last comprise those about Nertchinsk), but nothing
is said of quicksilver-mines in any one of these regions.[1] Again,
Mr. Atkinson, who spent several years in Asiatic Russia, went to the
district of Nertchinsk, and had friends among the mining engineers,
says: “Tin and zinc ores are found, but neither have as yet been much
worked, and I am not aware of the existence of quicksilver, though it
is said to be found in these regions.” Mr. Eden, in his valuable little
compilation on Siberia, speaking of its mineralogy, says, “Quicksilver
also is reported to exist in some of the north-eastern provinces”; but
he gives no authority for the report, says nothing of its being worked,
nor mentions the existence of it at Nertchinsk. I may further add that
recently I have seen the Englishman whom I met at Kiakhta, and who
since has twice passed through Nertchinsk. He asked particularly of an
officer connected with the mines for one of quicksilver, and was told
that, though there was said to be quicksilver in the neighbourhood, it
was not worked.

To these testimonies I must add my own, that neither in the town of
Nertchinsk, through which we passed, nor in the neighbourhood, nor
indeed throughout Siberia, did we anywhere hear of a quicksilver-mine.
The only testimony I have ever received in the opposite direction
is that of a released political exile, who has told me that he once
heard from some of his fellow-prisoners at Petrovsky Zavod, many miles
distant, that there was a small quicksilver-mine at Nertchinsk, but
so poor an affair that it was not worked. Subsequently my informant
was deported to four places in succession round about Nertchinsk, but
he neither saw nor heard anything more of the said quicksilver-mine.
Accordingly, on meeting, since my return, with an English acquaintance
who has spent a large part of his life in Siberia, and who knows it
well, I said to him, “You have heard, have you not, that there are
quicksilver-mines in Siberia?” to which he replied in the affirmative,
but he did not know where they existed; and when I asked him whether,
if I took upon myself to say that there was no such thing as a
quicksilver-mine in Siberia, he could contradict me, he thought
awhile, and then was obliged to confess he could not. The Englishman
from Kiakhta said the same; and my most recent informant, a released
political exile, who spent some years in the mines about Nertchinsk,
assures me to the same effect. In the face, therefore, of the prevalent
notion to the contrary, and notwithstanding what little evidence I have
been able to collect in their favour, I must express my grave doubts
as to whether mercury has ever been worked, in any sense worthy of the
term, by Russian convicts; and I shall further venture on the assertion
that there does not exist a quicksilver-mine in Siberia at all.

But perhaps _silver_-mines were intended instead of “quicksilver,” in
which case it should be observed that, if the quicksilver-mines have no
existence, then the slow process of killing convicts by their fumes is
a delusion. That working in quicksilver-mines is destructive to health
is perfectly well known; but working in silver-mines is quite another
matter. When at Barnaul, we heard nothing of any difficulty arising
under this head in the working of the Altai silver-mines. When in the
Rocky Mountains, I heard from a Russian lady, who had been down the
silver-mine near Virginia city, that the heat was very great, but she
said nothing as to the air being otherwise objectionable. Mr. Collins,
also, describing his descent of one of the Nertchinsk mines, the
silver-mine of Zarentunskie, says: “We now passed along another drift,
and found nothing unpleasant in this underground passage.” Moreover,
the two released exiles, to whose information I have already alluded,
have told me that they never perceived any objectionable fumes,--that,
in fact, there were none.

But, apart from the supposed deadly fumes, there has been a great deal
said and written respecting the Siberian mines in general, and those of
Nertchinsk in particular, which my experience and reading lead me to
question, not to say to contradict. The number of Englishmen who have
visited the great mine of Nertchinsk is represented, I believe, solely
by Captain Cochrane,[2] and great changes have taken place since his
day. In 1848, the Emperor Nicolas decided, with a view to carrying out
his plans in the regions of the Amur, that the whole of the people in
the Trans-Baikal should become Cossacks. Hitherto a large body of the
population had been employed in mining operations, and Mr. Atkinson
speaks of this sudden change as having closed the silver-mines of
Nertchinsk; but I suppose he means relatively, for the mines have been
worked for many years since by convicts, and, if we are to believe
all that is written on the subject, they are full of horrors to the
present day. But I shall venture to examine a few of these writings
which say so, and compare them with the statements of travellers and
eye-witnesses. I shall offer, too, my own experience, and then leave
the reader to judge respecting the truth of the whole.

The author of “The Russians of To-day” says (p. 216): “The miners are
supposed to be the worst offenders, and their punishment is tantamount
to death by slow torture; for it is certain to kill them in ten years,
and ruins their health long before that time. If the convict have
money or influential friends, he had better use the time between his
sentence and transportation in _buying a warrant_ which consigns him to
the lighter kinds of labour above ground, otherwise he will inevitably
be sent under earth, and _never again see the sky_ until he is hauled
up to die in an infirmary.” This was published in 1878, and I have
italicised the doubtful or erroneous words.

Again, the _Contemporary Review_ for September 1879, in an article
on “Conspiracies in Russia,” says (p. 143): “Of the treatment of
political exiles in Siberia, as it has been carried on _for a long
time past_, I have before me a thrilling description from the pen of
Mr. Robert Lemke, a German writer, who has visited the various penal
establishments of Russia with an official legitimation. He had been
to Tobolsk, after which he had to make a _long, dreary journey_ in a
wretched car, until a _high mountain_ rose before him. In its torn and
craggy flank the mountain showed a colossal opening similar to the
mouth of a burnt-out crater. Fetid vapours, which almost took away his
breath, ascended from it.”

Mr. Lemke then walks down with a guide, and--

“Entering a room of considerable extent, but which was scarcely a man’s
height, and which was dimly lit by an oil lamp, the visitor asked,
‘Where are we?’ ‘In the sleeping-room of the condemned! Formerly it
was a gallery of the mine; now it serves as a shelter.’ The visitor
shuddered. This subterranean sepulchre, lit by neither sun nor moon,
was called a sleeping-room. Alcove-like cells were hewn into the rock;
here, on a couch of damp, half-rotten straw, covered with a sackcloth,
the unfortunate sufferers were to repose from the day’s work. Over each
cell a _cramp iron_ was fixed, wherewith to lock up the prisoners like
ferocious dogs. No door, no window anywhere.

“Conducted through another passage, where a few lanterns were placed,
and whose end was also barred by an iron gate, Mr. Lemke came to
a large vault, partly lit. _This was the mine._ A deafening noise
of pickaxes and hammers. Then he saw some _hundreds_ of wretched
figures, with shaggy beards, sickly faces, reddened eyelids, _clad in
tatters_,--some of them _barefoot_, others in sandals, fettered with
heavy foot-chains. No song, no whistling; now and then they _shyly_
looked at the visitor and his companion.”

Mr. Lemke leaves the mine and speaks to one of the officers about the
convicts’ rest. “Rest!” said the officer, “convicts must always labour.
There is no rest for them; they are condemned to perpetual forced
labour, and he who once enters the mine _never leaves it_!” And so
on.[3]

These remarkable extracts may be appropriately followed by reference to
an article in the _Echo_ for May 5th, 1881. It numbered 100 lines, and
on reading it I had the curiosity to mark every line that appeared to
me to contain a misstatement or a blunder. No less than 20 were marked;
that is to say, one line in every five. The article is headed. “On the
Road to Siberia.” The author begins by starting his pedestrian exiles
on the _march_ at the Sparrow Hills at Moscow, and in crossing Russia
he gives them all sorts of difficulties by road to overcome; whereas I
have shown, in an earlier chapter, that for years past the prisoners
are taken by steam across Russia, and that the exile reaches the first
prison in Siberia without walking at all. Then the author places his
pedestrian exiles under the charge of _mounted, long-speared_ guards,
feeds them with bread and _oil_ (which latter I never yet heard of in
a Russian prison), and, what is more amusing, feeds the Cossack horses
with the _meal_ (whatever that may be) eaten by their masters. Then
having got his exiles over the Ural, he says:--

“Beyond the Ural, however, with its simple industries and markets, the
region becomes more barbarous; it is less relieved by the softening
aspects of social life; the exile population, clad in sheepskins,
thickens at every step; the cold grows so intense” [this, by-the-bye,
in the “open season,” _i.e._ the summer], “that occasionally the
Cossacks on guard are frozen, lance in hand; and the silver-mines are
now _not far distant_,--_immense caverns_, illuminated by torches of
pine, peopled by men with leaden-hued faces, caused by exhalations from
the copper ore, in which the silver is found imbedded; inhabited too
by _women_ and _children_, who share in the unhealthful labour, and
contribute their quota to the terrible totals of mortality, _living,
dying_, and being buried often _far below the light of day_.”

Now, when I read this, my first thought was to take Mr. _Punch’s_
advice, and “write to the _Times_,” but I repressed my feelings till I
could gather these extracts, italicise the questionable words, and then
calmly place before the reader such remarks upon the matter as I have
to offer. Let me, then, observe, in the first place, that neither of
these three authors professes to write from personal experience. Had
the writer in the _Echo_ been to Siberia in the “open season,” he would
not have frozen his mounted guard, lance in hand, but would have made
him trudge on foot at the side of his convoy, sweating beneath the load
of rifle and bayonet; and neither of the three writers, had they been
to Siberia, would have been so vague with regard to its geography. The
author of the “Russians of To-day” (p. 216) informs his readers that
“Siberia is a territory covering about _six_ times the area of England
and Scotland!” Had he written _sixty_ times he would have been not far
from the mark; but--perhaps six was a printer’s error!

Again, the _Contemporary_ writer says that Mr. Lemke “had been to
Tobolsk, after which he had to make a long dreary journey until a high
mountain was before him;” which sentence, though not expressly saying
so, leaves one to infer that the mountain was at least in the vicinity,
whereas the country about Tobolsk is flat, and there is no mountain
answering to the writer’s description, where convicts are employed,
within 2,000 miles. So, again, the writer for the _Echo_, almost
immediately after getting his exiles over the Urals, informs us that
“the silver-mines are now not far distant,” which is hardly an exact
way of speaking of 3,000 miles.

But I shall now proceed to give such personal information as I am able
about Nertchinsk, prefacing what I have to say with words from Mr.
Collins’s chapters describing his visit to the mines of the district.
This, I think, should go far to satisfy an ordinary reader as to the
quality of the miners’ food, clothing, and sleeping accommodation.
“This [gold] mine was a convict establishment, like all the mines east
of Lake Baikal. The men were well clad, and in visiting the hospital,
prison, and quarters, I found the arrangements for their health and
sleeping clean and comfortable. Cooks were preparing dinner for the
prisoners. I tasted of the soup, bread, and _kacha_, or grits, made
from buckwheat and milk, and found them good and well prepared. There
were a number on the sick list, mostly those who had recently arrived,
but they were in a warm, clean room, with clean beds and clothing, and
with a separate kitchen, where proper diet was prepared for them.”

This was published in 1860. Before leaving Asia I had an opportunity of
asking an American, who had visited the Nertchinsk mines, as to what he
saw, but he told of no such barbarities as those quoted above. Again,
I asked an Englishman living in Siberia about women working _in_ the
silver-mines, but he had never heard of such a thing, nor have I; and
my second exile informant denies it; so that I trust the women and the
children with “leaden-hued faces,” inhabiting the mines and “sharing in
the unhealthful labour,” exist only in the imagination of the writer
for the _Echo_. Had the article said that there were women and children
_at_ the mines, it would have been less difficult to believe, because I
found them at the gold-mines--the women employed in scrubbing, washing,
or hard female labour, and their children taken care of, clothed and
fed in a school; but this will be alluded to hereafter. Again, I met
a naval officer, who had seen the coal-mines at Dui, in Sakhalin, and
who spoke of the prison abuses there in no measured terms. He had
visited the mines at Nertchinsk five years before we met, and had
descended into one of them; but though he said the men looked sickly,
and sometimes had to “go on all fours” to get the mineral (which, I
suppose, all miners occasionally have to do), yet he had no barbarities
of which to speak, and did not confirm any of the notions with which
I entered the country, as to the prisoners being kept underground
by night and by day. He said they worked twelve hours a day, six on
and six off. I questioned, too, the chief of the gold-mines at Kara
concerning the silver-mines at Nertchinsk, which are not far off. He
denied that the prisoners were kept underground, and _thought_ they
worked in three sections of eight hours each.

I have three testimonies besides, not from prison officials,
travellers, or amateur philanthropists, but from men, two of whom
themselves worked in the mines of Nertchinsk; whilst the third, a
Lutheran pastor, told me of what he had heard direct from prisoners at
the mines, where it was his business periodically to visit. He said
that old convicts at Nertchinsk and Kara had told him of Rozguildieff,
a director, 20 years before, who gave them only 4 lbs. of bread a day,
and who used to go about with four Cossacks behind him, armed with the
knout, to thrash those who did not do the prescribed quantity of work.
He afterwards became blind. I have heard from another quarter that this
man used sometimes to condemn his prisoners, not to so many stripes,
but so many “lbs.” of the birch--to 10 or 15 lbs., for instance--which
meant that the man should be flogged until a certain weight of rods
had been used up. But a military officer was sent to inspect the
mines, and Rozguildieff was removed; since which time the pastor said
that all seemed going on well, and that he had heard no complaints of
abuse. I have also heard of this Rozguildieff and his cruelty from
a third person, who was at Petrovsky Zavod in 1866, with about 500
prisoners, many of them Polish insurgents. Another testimony respecting
the mines is from a Pole whom I met, engaged as a clerk at one of the
post-houses. He had been sent to Nertchinsk as a political prisoner,
condemned to hard labour, but he said he was not compelled to work.
Perhaps he had the good fortune to be taken as a servant, or employed
as a clerk; this he did not explain, but he said that the officers
were not cruel, and that of the prison treatment he had no complaint
to make. He had, he said, 3 lbs. of bread, and ½ lb. of meat a day. He
might write a letter every three months; and so well satisfied did he
seem with his present lot, that he said if the Emperor were to allow
his return to Poland he would certainly go; but if he were offered
permission to return only to Russia, he would prefer to stay where he
was. One reason for this, it has been suggested, might be that police
supervision is more irksome in Russia than in Siberia.

The last testimony I would offer is perhaps the most satisfactory of
all, because it came to me direct in English from one who, implicated
in the Polish insurrection of 1863, was sent as a political exile to
Nertchinsk, with several like offenders from the Russian and Polish
aristocracy, he himself being a man who had received a university
education. The accounts he gave me relate to the condition of things
in 1866 and 1867. The principal centre of the mining district, he
said, was called Nertchinsky Zavod, or Bolshoi Zavod, “the great
works,” at which, however, the _mines_ were abandoned before 1865,
and the prison was afterwards used for a hospital. Round about were
various mines, works, hospitals, and prisons, such as Kadaya, Akatuya,
Klitchka, Alexandreffsky, Algatche (the last a smelting place), and
some others. At Stretinsk and Sivakoff, on the Shilka, were ship-yards,
where prisoners were employed. There would seem to be labour going on
still at Nertchinsk and at Algatche, since, from the Governor’s letter
to me, it appears that some of my books have been sent to these two
places, and to the hospital at Stretinsk; but the greater part of the
mines just mentioned have now passed out of Government into private
hands. I am speaking, however, of things as they were in the time of
my informant, who laboured at Kadaya, Akatuya, Alexandreffsky, and
Nertchinsky Zavod. Kadaya was only two or three versts from the Chinese
frontier,[4] Alexandreffsky was about six versts from the frontier,
and 35 from head-quarters. At most of the places there were prisons
built: at Alexandreffsky, of stone; at Kadaya, of wood; and at Akatuya,
partly of wood and partly of stone. At Nertchinsky Zavod the prison
was very old, and was empty. The commandant, General Chitoff, living
there, he preferred to house the convicts at a convenient distance.
At Alexandreffsky there were not less than 700 prisoners in three
buildings. Of these, 30 or 40 were Russian political offenders; the
remainder were Polish insurgents of 1863. At Akatuya there were 110
prisoners, 60 of whom were Polish priests, together with 22 other
prisoners sent to join them for extra punishment.

Akatuya, by reason of its isolation and loneliness, was regarded as
the worst place of all, there being no village around it. There was
reported to have been a Tatar in this prison, before 1866, chained
to the wall, but this was an exceptional case, and such things, it
was said, were not done to the political prisoners, some of whom
had friends who could bring influence to bear in their favour. My
informant, being counted “noble,” was exempted from wearing chains
during the journey, but on his arrival he had irons, he said, of 7
lbs. (Russian) on the feet, and the same weight on the hands. If so,
these handcuffs must have been heavier than any I have seen in Russia
or Siberia. There were sometimes cases in which criminal prisoners
burst into fits of ferocity, and were guilty of such insubordination
as to call for special punishment. At Sivakoff, for instance, he had
known men suspended for a time by the armpits, but none were chained
to barrows or tools, as has been sometimes done. In the case of my
informant himself, who insulted the Governor-General Korsakoff, and
also joined others in a league to refuse to work on Sundays (the cruel
and unjust regulation to this effect was enforced on these exiles in
1866), he, with many more, and for a considerable time, was put first
on half rations, then deprived of meat, then of milk, and then was not
permitted to lounge in the yard, but had to go straight from work to
his ward. The priests had joined in this resistance to Sunday labour,
and there were also Protestants and a Jew among the league. Some of
the priests, however, were the first to give in, and all at length
followed, so that they had afterwards only four holidays in the course
of the year, though this was exclusive of bath-day, which recurred once
a fortnight, and was a holiday as at Kara.

I asked as to the formation of the mines, and found that some of
them had shafts and galleries; one shaft in particular, by reason of
its construction, being dangerous to descend. In some cases it seems
that the granite was dug from the side of a hill, and the work of the
prisoners consisted largely of boring holes for blasting, which were
charged with powder by Cossacks or labourers, and, in the absence of
the prisoners, were fired. From an engineering point of view, the
mines, as far as I could understand, were worked badly enough; and
this agreed with what I had heard elsewhere. The mineral was brought
to the surface in baskets, but they had no steam or horse-power. There
were veins of silver, but often the galleries did not follow them, and
the mines seemed to subserve the purpose of providing hard labour for
malefactors, rather than that of bringing gain to the Emperor. Whilst
my informant was talking to me, he had in his hand some pins, and,
holding up one of them, he said, “I did not see a piece of silver as
big as that all the time I was at Akatuya.”

I inquired carefully respecting the hours of labour, and heard that
in 1866 it was 13 hours a day, which agrees with the hours I found
at Kara in the gold-mines. At noon they came out of the mines to
dinner--unless, that is, a man had arranged his hours otherwise; for
it seemed that so long as they did not worry the Cossacks or prevent
their lounging about and smoking, the prisoners might do their allotted
number of hours when they pleased. There was, moreover, no definite
amount of mineral required of every man daily, and hence he might work
hard or not, pretty much as he liked.

This, then, appears to have been the condition of things at Nertchinsk
15 years ago;[5] and from what I heard in Siberia, matters since seem
to have improved rather than otherwise, though it must not be supposed
that the lot of the convicts is an easy one. I am far from attempting
to make it appear so. No doubt the corporal punishment inflicted in
many cases is very severe. I shall have more to say of this hereafter.
The period of an exile’s life spent at the mines, before being set
free to colonize, cannot but be hard. Whatever laxity of discipline
may prevail, as compared with the prisons of other countries, the
herding together of the worst of characters, the deprivation of social,
intellectual, and religious privileges, to speak of nothing else,
must to many make life in the mines, from the nature of things, a
burden. But this is very different from killing exiles by inches in
quicksilver fumes, or keeping men, women, and children underground by
night and by day, with insufficient clothing, food, and sleep. Such
gross misstatements must in time be refuted, and the revulsion caused
by their exposure often makes people too easily believe less severity
than really exists. The treatment of prisoners necessarily depends
greatly upon those who are set over them, and the study of human nature
about us renders it quite needless to go to Siberia to discover that
among prison officials there are both bad and good. That there have
been instances of cruelty in the mines I do not doubt, but I believe
far less have occurred than some writers would have us believe; and I
trust that what has here been written may tend to throw some light upon
a matter of which many are desirous to know the truth.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Speaking, however (p. 56), of “Mercury or Quicksilver,” the author
says: “Argental Mercury, or native silver amalgam, has been found
at ... Kolyvan, in Siberia.” But Kolyvan is thousands of miles from
Nertchinsk, and on the Obi, where there are no quicksilver-mines.
Further (on page 66 of “Ure’s Dictionary”), the imports of quicksilver
are given as coming from Spain, the United States, Chili, Australia,
Hanse towns, Hanover, Austria, Italy, Mexico, and other parts, but
nothing is said of any from Siberia.

[2] Perhaps this is not to be wondered at, if the inaccessibility of
the place be considered. It is 5,250 miles east of Petersburg, 700
miles nearly due north of Peking, about 480 north of the Chinese wall,
and 1,000 miles west of the Pacific. Captain Cochrane went there half
a century ago, at which time there were 1,600 convicts in the mines,
and he speaks sternly of their treatment, their miserable huts, and
of their haggard, worn-down, wretched, half-starved appearance. But
he stayed at the place only a day, and his book does not say that he
entered the mines at all.

[3] On my reading this description to one who knows from painful
experience what the mines were like, he laughed outright at its
absurdity.

[4] This is the place to which the Russian poet Mikhaïloff was banished
for writing his proclamation or manifesto, _Molodom pokoleniou_, “To
the rising generation,” as was also his literary friend Tchernichewsky,
who is called the intellectual chief and founder of Nihilism.
Mikhaïloff died and was buried at Kadaya; Tchernichewsky, who it seems
is feeble and delicate in constitution, was not compelled to work, nor
did he carry chains; and after spending a certain time at Kadaya, he
was removed to Viluisk, in the province of Yakutsk.

[5] I have quite unexpectedly had the opportunity of submitting this
chapter, in manuscript, to a second released exile, who was at the
Nertchinsk mines at the time alluded to, and who, after expressing his
great surprise at the accuracy of my account, confirmed it almost to
the letter, adding, however, that he thought I underrated the number
of political exiles; but he referred to the numbers deported in 1863
and during the present year, rather than to the average number for the
intervening years.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

_FROM NERTCHINSK TO STRETINSK._

Nertchinsk.--Its climate and history.--Scene of a Russo-Chinese
treaty.--Appearance of the town.--Visits to authorities.--Dinner
with a rich merchant.--Siberian table customs.--Poverty
of travelling fare.--Fine arts in Siberia.--Painting and
photography.--Journey from Nertchinsk.

Before passing from Nertchinsk, a few words should be said respecting
its history, and as at Nertchinsky Zavod, 2,230 feet above the sea,
there is a meteorological observatory--its climate, also. Mr. Atkinson
writes: “The climate is not so horrible as many have supposed, nor is
the earth a perpetual mass of ice at a few feet below the surface,
as I have seen it stated. The summers are not so long as in Europe,
but they are very hot, and the country produces a magnificent flora.
Both agriculture and horticulture are carried on successfully,
and vegetables of almost every kind can be grown here. Tobacco is
extensively cultivated, for which the people find a sale among the
Buriats and Tunguses.”

Again, Baron Rosen, speaking of Chita, which is on the same parallel
and within 200 miles of Nertchinsk, says: “The high situation of Chita
considerably increases the cold in winter, but it is healthy, with a
fresh bracing climate. The sky is almost always clear, excepting in
August, when the thunder is incessant for days together, and then
follows a shower, beginning with enormously large single drops, which
in a few hours floods all the roads; for the water falls rapidly down
the slopes, digging deep trenches as it runs. The great electricity
of the air is remarkable: the slightest movement of cloth or wool
produces sparks or crackling. The rapidity of the vegetation is most
extraordinary; for both corn and vegetables ripen within the five weeks
in which the frosts cease, _i.e._, from the middle of June to the end
of July. One of my comrades first introduced the growing of cucumbers
in the open air, and melons in hot-beds.” And the Baron afterwards
adds: “When I was chosen senior of the prison, I salted down in brandy
casks 60,000 cucumbers out of our garden.” Whether the Baron is
accurate in speaking of five weeks only during which there is no frost,
seems doubtful. I observe in the meteorological report from Nertchinsky
Zavod, that in 1877 the lowest temperature was, in June, 36°·8; in
July, 47°·8; and in August, 41°. If, therefore, frost occurred in these
months, it must have been ground-frost caused by radiation; which
would not affect the crops. The lowest temperature of the year, which
occurred in January, was 45°·5 below zero; the highest temperature,
95°·3, occurring in August.

It should be observed that the Trans-Baikal province has a climate
almost peculiar to itself. From the north, the Polar Sea, immense
tracts of swamp, lakes, and rivers supply the atmosphere with moisture,
a great deal of which is precipitated, in passing southwards, over a
region more than 1,000 miles in breadth; and as the clouds approach the
Altai, in process of elevating themselves to pass the mountains, they
part with their last drops, which fall along the northern, southern,
and eastern sides of the range. But this happens, of course, only when
the prevailing winds are from the north. Upon the south there are few
lakes or rivers; while the land in general is dry, and remote from
the sea. The winter clouds from the Indian Ocean in the south, and
the Caspian on the west, discharging themselves upon the mountains of
Thibet and Bucharia, rarely pass the desert of Gobi. Accordingly, the
winds blowing so regularly from this direction bring no water; and
thus, rain clouds coming for the most part from the Pacific only, it
comes to pass that the fall of rain and snow about Chita and Nertchinsk
is exceedingly small, and the winter passenger, for lack of snow upon
which to drive, has frequently in this region to mount his sledge on
wheels.[1] As summer travellers, however, we had no difficulties of
this kind, and the absence of rain we regarded as a blessing. The
weather was delightful, and I was looking forward, after passing a few
more stations, to bid farewell to tarantass and horses, and by steamer
to descend the Amur.

The town of Nertchinsk is one of the oldest in Eastern Siberia, having
been founded in 1658. After about 10 years it began to rise into a
place of importance, and 20 years later was the birthplace of a famous
treaty between the Russians and the Chinese.[2]

The question in dispute was the boundary of the two empires; the
Russians first proposing, and the Chinese refusing, that the Amur
should be the boundary; after which the Chinese proposed, and the
Russians refused, that Albazin, Nertchinsk, and Selenginsk should
be surrendered. After several conferences neither party showed a
disposition to yield, and both prepared for battle; but this was
averted, and a treaty was at length drawn up fixing the boundary
between the empires, but by no means in accordance with Russian wishes,
for they were completely shut out from the Amur.

After this, Nertchinsk remained for a long time the most easterly of
the large towns in the Trans-Baikal region. The discovery of metals in
the surrounding mountains increased its importance, and the continued
arrival there of exiles, and the stories connected with them, caused
the place to be only too well known--at least by name--throughout the
empire.

The town is charmingly situated, 1,845 feet above the sea. The
surrounding country is picturesque, and the soil rich. Hill, valley,
river, mountain, all combine to make it an interesting spot, apart
from its legendary and historic associations. Mr. Knox entered the
town from the east, and speaks of the view as especially pleasing,
because it was the first Russian town where he saw evidences of age
and wealth. The domes of its churches glistened in the sunlight that
had broken through the fog and warmed the tints of the whole picture!
It struck me, however, very differently. The natural beauties of the
place, of course, one could not but admire, but I had left behind the
handsome cities of European Russia, and had passed through many cleanly
and newly-built towns in Siberia, in comparison with which Nertchinsk
struck me as being black with age and decay. There was a woebegone look
about the place, and the streets seemed deplorably neglected. Many of
the houses were falling to pieces, and gave the town a most untidy
appearance.

We reached Nertchinsk on Wednesday morning, July 23rd, and made it our
first business to seek the Ispravnik, from whom I wished to get general
information respecting prisons and mines, and permission, perhaps, to
visit some of them within reasonable distance, though I hardly hoped
to see the great mines, as I knew they were more than 100 miles away
from the town, and if I attempted to reach them I should either miss
the penal colony of Kara, or lose the steamer which was shortly to
leave Stretinsk. We had thought it just possible, moreover, that the
Ispravnik might provide some one who could speak English, French, or
German, to accompany me to Stretinsk, and thus leave my interpreter
free to return.

Nertchinsk formerly stood at the junction of the Nertcha, which flows
from the north, and the Shilka. The repeated damage to the houses from
floods caused its removal, though even on its present site the lower
part of the town has been more than once under water. It was to this
lower part we drove in search of the authorities, but the Ispravnik was
away “in the country,” and his representative was asleep.

We went next to present a letter of introduction to Mr. Bootyn, of whom
we had heard at the Alexandreffsky Central Prison, and subsequently
at Irkutsk. On approaching his house, it proved to be not only the
most remarkable in the town, but, I might add, the grandest we had
seen in Siberia. The houses of Nertchinsk have already been alluded
to as old, black, and rotten; but Mr. Bootyn is a merchant, miner,
and millionaire, who has been to England and round the world, and
he was building himself a house, in the construction of which were
manifest sundry foreign ideas. It was a huge erection, part of which
was executed in Byzantine and castellated styles; and the establishment
comprised dwelling-houses, gardens, conservatories, and shops--all
in one. The Mr. Bootyn to whom our letter was addressed was from
home, but we were received by his brother, and invited to dine in the
verandah conservatory.

This gave us an insight into the social habits of another class of
Russians, and I was now beginning to know pretty well what to expect
when invited by a Siberian to dinner. Their hospitality is unbounded,
though, of course, its manifestation differs according to the means
of the host. Our first dinner in Siberia was at a merchant’s house,
where brother-merchants in travelling put up, and hence it was called
a hotel. We were asked if we would have our dinner in our own room,
or _en famille_. I was rash enough to choose the latter, and we
found ourselves seated at the table with mine host and a queer lot
of male guests (there were no females), who appeared to be clerks
or fellow-lodgers. We were first requested to help ourselves from a
tureen, in the centre of the table, to _stchee_, or soup, on the top
of which the fat floated like oil; and for the next course we had
bones of veal, followed by game and sour berries. Our fellow-guests
ate ravenously, tearing the bones to pieces with their teeth. Nothing
was placed on the table to drink, but towards the close of the meal
a glass of milk, as is common in Western Siberia, was given to each.
The foregoing represents, I should think, the dinner of the well-to-do
Siberian tradesman. There is nothing like display, and things are
sometimes served in a rough fashion. If any one wishes to be brushed
clean of over-fastidiousness in the arrangements of the table, I can
conscientiously recommend a tour across Siberia. In one house where
I was entertained--and entertained most kindly--the fish was brought
in in the frying-pan, and thus placed in the middle of the table,
which, if it did not minister to the delights of the eye, gave us food
admirably hot. On one occasion we dined with a teacher of languages in
a classical school, and he gave us stchee, roast meat with sour wild
cherries, then preserved maroshka berries and pudding. We dined in a
similar fashion with a medical doctor, but fared more sumptuously in
the house of a gold-seeker, where salt-spoons reminded us of England.

At Nertchinsk we had fallen on pleasant places. The number of plants
and flowers (I had almost said shrubs) on the table went far to hide
the guests from one another, but there was abundance of excellent
food. Had we been bibbers of wine, there was no lack of the choicest
vintages; but, upon our declining alcohol, we were offered some
excellent cherry syrup, which, in so remote a region, was a great
luxury. Further east, I was invited to dinner by the acting governor
of a town, where the first course was provided, they said, for my
special benefit. It was a salmon pie. Fish pie is a grand dish with
peasants, and their betters too, throughout Russia. If well prepared
it is excellent. The crust is not made with butter, but with yeast, as
it is commonly eaten in Lent, when butter is forbidden. I dined most
sumptuously, however, in Siberia, at Vladivostock, with the officers
of a Russian man-of-war, at the house of the Governor. Here everything
was served with the elegance and refinement of an English mansion; and
the customs observed were much the same, except that the hostess (in
the absence of her husband, the Governor) gave a toast standing, and
left her seat to come round and do the honours by touching glasses
with several of her guests. Thus I saw something of the table customs
of nearly all classes. Grace was sung before meals in the house of
a devoutly orthodox general in Petersburg, and now and then I saw a
peasant, before or after a meal, turn to the ikon and cross himself;
but grace before meat did not appear to obtain as a custom in Siberia.
I partook, too, of all sorts of Siberian food, from sumptuous dinners
down to what was often very humble fare indeed. I think the _best_
dinner we got at a post-station consisted of chicken soup, then the
newly-killed chicken that made it, and pancakes. This, perhaps, was
due in part to our not usually caring to wait until a meal could be
cooked, and we could not always eat what the post-people had prepared
for themselves, even when it was ready. Our provision basket, however,
supplied us with a few relishes to bread and butter, and thus we made
shift from town to town. I never travelled with anything like such
bodily fatigue as during the drive across Siberia; and never, that I
can remember, ate so little animal food during a corresponding period
of time; but I have no hesitation in saying that my health was better
after the journey than before it.

Before we left Mr. Bootyn’s, we were shown some of the best rooms in
the house, elegantly furnished. In one of them was a fair collection of
European paintings, some of which I recognized as Swiss scenes. I do
not remember seeing any other paintings in Siberia worth naming, nor do
I remember being shown any statuary. Both would, of course, be carried
safely with difficulty over such immense distances and such uneven
roads.

The Siberians are, however, by no means behind in photography. When
preparing for my tour, I had serious thoughts of taking with me a
camera and dry plates, thinking thereby to secure some novel pictures,
to the surprise, perhaps, of the people. It proved well that I
attempted nothing of the kind, for much trouble was thereby saved to
me, and instead of my astonishing the natives, I found that the natives
astonished me. I visited parts of Siberia of which no English author
has written, but discovered that photography had everywhere preceded
me; and though there were many villages in which we could not procure
white bread, there were few towns in which the same could be said of
photographs.[3]

In Siberia, some of the photographers are Polish exiles; some are
Germans; one I met was a Frenchman, and another a Finn. Their
landscapes are not particularly good, and their productions are
dear. Landscapes of the size of views which may be purchased in Rome
for sixpence cost in Siberia at least six shillings; and when, at
Krasnoiarsk, our party went to be photographed, we paid for cabinet
groups at the rate of sixteen shillings the half-dozen copies. It
should be remembered, however, that the demand is limited.

After taking leave of Mr. Bootyn, we prepared for a journey of 150
miles, which was to bring us to Stretinsk. The upper town of Nertchinsk
is built at the end of a long sweeping prairie, exposed to all the
winds that blow up through the valley, or down from the cold summits
of the Yablonoi Mountains. We came towards night to a solitary house
in the midst of the steppe, the poorest station we had seen. The outer
roof was off, and the building divided into two compartments--one for
travellers and the other for horses--the one being not much better
than the other; whilst on the opposite side of the road was the only
building in sight--a roofless shed. The only food to be obtained was
black bread, salt, and water, and in this place it looked at first as
if we should be compelled to stay; for they had not six--that is, two
“pairs” of--horses; they had four; and I suggested that the difficulty
should be overcome by putting two horses to each vehicle. But this they
said was illegal, because their four horses would make only one “pair,”
and these they were willing to attach to our tarantass, if we would
pile on the rest of our boxes before and behind. By what mathematical
process they explained this reasoning about pairs I have never yet
fathomed, but we were only too thankful to get on at any price, and
early next morning we drove into Stretinsk.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] The following table gives for 1875 the number of days of rain and
snow, the mean temperature of winter, spring, summer, autumn, and the
whole year, and the difference between the mean temperatures of summer
and winter, for London and four Siberian towns:--

| WINTER. | SPRING. | SUMMER. | AUTUMN. | YEAR. |Diff.
|Days Temp.|Days Temp.|Days Temp.|Days Temp.|Days Temp.|betw.
Nikolaefsk| 28 1·27 | 36 25·70| 28 59·05| 39 32·23|131 29·56|57·78
Barnaul | 22 6·60 | 26 42·93| 30 61·83| 30 29·10|108 35·11|55·23
Irkutsk | 10 -1·27 | 17 2·14| 25 61·54| 11 30·65| 63 23·27|62·81
Nertchinsk| 5 -1·40 | 17 2·81| 26 60·70| 12 24·90| 60 21·75|62·10
London | 47 40·0 | 34 53·70| 42 60·40| 44 43·50|167 49·40|20·40

The precipitation (rain and snow) in inches stands as follows at
Barnaul, Nertchinsk, and London:--

| Inches. | Inches. | Inches. | Inches. | Inches.
Barnaul | 0·92 | 1·77 | 6·39 | 2·93 | 12·01
Nertchinsk | 0·75 | 0·60 | 8·77 | 7·42 | 17·54
London | 4·76 | 5·13 | 9·94 | 8·21 | 28·04

[2] Mr. Ravenstein gives an interesting account of this. The two
nations were represented by the envoy extraordinary Fedor Alexevitch
Golovin, and the celestial ambassadors So-fan-lan-ya and Kiw-Kijew,
with two Jesuit fathers as interpreters. The Russian envoy was
accompanied by a regiment of Regular Militia (Strelzi) 1,500 strong,
and two regiments raised in Siberia; but the Chinese ambassadors were
accompanied by a force of 9,000 or 10,000 persons, consisting of
soldiers, mandarins, servants, and camp followers. They had from 3,000
to 4,000 camels, and at least 15,000 horses; and as they came to the
river’s bank opposite Nertchinsk, before the arrival of the Russian
envoy, the Governor of the town not unnaturally felt uneasy at the
presence of so large a company.

At length, however, Golovin arrived, and a large tent was pitched,
midway between the fortress and the river, one-half appropriated to the
Russians, the other to the Chinese. The Russian portion was covered
with a handsome Turkey carpet. Golovin and the Governor of Nertchinsk
occupied arm-chairs, placed behind a table, which was spread with a
Persian silk embroidered in gold. The Chinese portion was devoid of
all ornament. The chiefs of the embassy, seven in number, sat upon
pillows placed upon a low bench. The remainder of the mandarins and
Russian officers were ranged along both sides of the tent. The Chinese
had crossed the river with 40 mandarins and 760 soldiers, 500 of whom
remained on the bank of the river, and 260 advanced half-way to the
tent. In a similar manner, 500 Russians were placed close to the fort,
and 40 officers and 260 soldiers followed the envoy.

[3] It is interesting to know that in certain departments of
photography, Russia stands well to the front. In theoretical,
scientific, and landscape photography, I am informed England takes
place in the foremost rank; but in portrait photography, Russia is
before us. Among first-class photographic artists in Petersburg, the
names might be mentioned of Levitzky, Bergamasco, and Dinier; and in
Moscow that of Eichenwald; but the most remarkable photographer in all
Russia, probably, is one Karelin, at Nijni Novgorod. A small view of
Kasan, which I purchased in the city of that name, and which is printed
by the phototype process, seemed to indicate that this branch of the
art had extended more widely, and made further progress eastward, than
might have been expected at the time of my visit. There are to be
had in Petersburg and Moscow some magnificent photographic panoramas
of the two capitals; and in descending the Urals, on the Asiatic
side, I procured what can rarely be had elsewhere--a photograph of a
surface iron-mine; whilst further east was added one of a gold-mine. A
photographic view of Ekaterineburg, given me there, shows how thin and
light is the air in Russia, for purposes of photography, as compared
with ours in England.

CHAPTER XXXV.

_FROM STRETINSK TO UST-KARA._

Arrival at Stretinsk.--Recorded distances from Petersburg.--Taking
in a passenger.--Travelling allowance to officers.--Parting with
interpreter.--Farewell to tarantass.--Starting to Kara.--The
world before me.--Previous writers on the Amur.--Gliding down
the Shilka.--Talking by signs.--My Cossack attendant.--Taking an
oar.--How Russians sleep.--Arrival at Ust-Kara.

On reaching Stretinsk, we were on the same meridian as Nanking. We
had been reminded of our increasing distance from Petersburg by the
verst-posts which kept us company all the way. At every station, too,
there is a post setting forth how many versts distant are Petersburg,
Moscow, and the government towns on either side. The verst-posts recur
at every two-thirds of an English mile. At the top they are shaped
square, being so turned that the approaching traveller sees at a glance
how many versts it is to the station which he has left, or to which
he is journeying. When we entered Siberia at Tiumen, the distance
was 2,543 versts from Petersburg; at Tomsk it increased to 4,052; at
Krasnoiarsk to 4,606; and at Irkutsk to 5,611; whilst on arrival at
Stretinsk it was almost 7,000 versts, or 4,600 miles.

It has already been stated that, after leaving Nertchinsk, the number
of our horses was reduced. On reaching the last station but one, we
had to take in a passenger. We overtook an officer, his wife and
family, whose acquaintance we had made in the Obi steamer, and whom we
subsequently met several times on our journey eastward. His wife spoke
French, and their three or four children were exceedingly well-behaved.
We could not help pitying this party of six, all of whom were stowed
away in a single tarantass, not much, if any, bigger than ours,
which was not excessively large for two. One of the children, if I
mistake not, was a baby, and if to the discomforts I have described as
accompanying us two be added the crowding of all these children and an
untold quantity of baggage into a single vehicle, then one may picture
some of the difficulties with which Russian officers and their families
travel in Siberia.

This party having arrived before us had secured one “pair” of horses,
and the question arose as to whether the remaining pair should be
given to us or to a telegraph officer, who had also arrived before us,
but who was proceeding in our direction. He proposed that we should
have the horses and take him carriage free, which, rather than wait,
we were glad to do, and he thereby was able to pocket his travelling
allowance.[1]

On arriving at Stretinsk we found it a good-sized town, with hospital,
sundry factories, barracks, and other buildings, befitting the chief
port of the Upper Amur. We were reminded, however, of its distance
from civilized centres almost before our horses stopped, for a youth
rushed up to inquire whether our tarantass was for sale. They make no
axletrees of iron in these parts, and hence, when a traveller arrives
who has a tarantass thus furnished, he has a good chance, after having
had the use of it all across the country, to sell it at Stretinsk for
as much or more than it cost in Europe. White bread was at famine
prices here, costing 6_d._ a lb.--five times as much as we paid at
Tobolsk--because the American flour deposited at Nikolaefsk ascends
the river a distance of nearly 2,000 miles, and the Russian flour,
from Irkutsk, travels 900 miles by land. So between the two, delicate
persons “brought up on white bread,” as the Russians say, fare badly.

We called first at the telegraph office, and presented a letter of
introduction to Mr. Koch, who was ready at once to help, and from
whom I learned that my coming had been announced to the Commandant,
Colonel Merkasin, a worthy officer, of whom I heard a good account
from a released political exile, who said that prisoners received much
kindness at his hands, and that, if the colonel used their labour,
he paid them fairly for their work. We were favoured with his ready
attention, and, on going to his house, found that the Governor of
Chita, according to his promise, had requested him to make arrangements
whereby I might visit the mines of Kara. They were 80 miles distant,
and could be approached in summer by land only by a bridle-path. The
other method was to row down the Shilka in an open boat.

But I was first to part with my interpreter, who was to return from
this place, a day or two afterwards, in our poor old tarantass.[2]
Before parting, there were sundry arrangements to make, and various
things to send back with him, instead of my taking them round the
remainder of the globe; but some of these I never saw again, for at
one of the stations Mr. Interpreter’s portmanteau was stolen, with my
property in it. The only place at Stretinsk in which we could put up
was a small building, dignified with the name of an hotel, consisting
of a central chamber with a billiard table, and a room on either
side--one set apart for women and the other for men. The sleeping
accommodation in the latter was a wooden seat running round the
room--a very common arrangement still in many parts of Russia. They
provided us food, however, and the place sufficed for unpacking and
arranging our effects, of which I intended to take the light baggage
with me, and leave my trunk, “hold-all,” and boxes of books to follow
by the steamer.

I was anxious to get forward as quickly as possible, for it was already
Thursday morning, the 24th of July, and on Sunday evening the steamer
was due to pick me up at Ust-Kara, and take me to the Amur. The colonel
spared no pains to make things go smoothly. He had provided a boat
used by the police, which I was to keep all the way, and not change at
every station. He had also provided a Cossack who was to be my guard,
servant, and attendant, and whom I asked the colonel positively to
order not to leave me till he had delivered me safe into the hands of
Colonel Kononovitch, the Commandant at Kara. The colonel smiled at my
request, and undertook to see that my luggage was properly put on board
the steamer, as also did Mr. Koch; and then, bidding farewell to the
officer and to Mr. Interpreter, I embarked at three o’clock to float
down the waters of the Shilka.

And now the world was before me, and that in a sense in which it had
never been before. I was not only a stranger in a strange land, but
penetrating a region where no English author had preceded me;[3] but
I was far from disliking my new position. The weather was delightful,
save that I rather feared sunstroke, and would fain have had a
cabbage-leaf to put in my hat. The colonel had recommended some other
antidote, but it was rendered unnecessary by the rising of clouds, from
which there fell a few drops of rain. The Cossack had provided two
oarsmen, so that I had nothing to do but to lean back in the boat, and
enjoy the delightful way in which we glided down the stream. It was
so pleasant, too, to miss the dust of the road and the jolting of the
tarantass!

I could ask no questions, from the simple fact that none of my crew
spoke anything but Russ, of which I had hardly learned a dozen words.
I purposely did not spend time in mastering even the elements of the
language, thinking that I should have an interpreter with me all the
way, and not supposing that I should have any further use for my
smatter after leaving the country. Moreover, the Russian alphabet of
36 letters is different from others used in Europe, and is certainly
not inviting. I had very commonly found, among the upper classes of
Russians, that I could get on by some means in French, German, or
English. The post-masters, who happened to be Jews, spoke German; and
when this triglot mode of communication failed, I took to signs and
dumb show--not always, however, with entire success.

At Tomsk, for instance, while Mr. Interpreter was “blowing up”
the officials for allowing us to be sent on the wrong road, I was
peacefully engaged in ordering the samovar and preparing for tea at
the post-house. I wanted some eggs, for which, even if I had learned
it, I had quite forgotten the Russian word, “_yaitsi_.” The Russian
who wanted an egg in England cleverly clucked like a hen, and was
instantly understood; but this did not occur to me. I therefore walked
into the back room, and, to the woman’s astonishment, peeped into the
cupboards and drawers, and examined the shelves; but to no purpose.
I then bethought me of my artistic acquirements, and, taking out a
pencil, drew on the wall an oval the size of an egg, and bade the
woman look at _that_; but she was too dense to catch my meaning. At
this juncture her husband entered, and I appealed to his masculine
intelligence by pointing to the oval on the wall; but he could not
“see” it. A happy thought then struck me, and I remembered that I had
in my provision-basket an egg-cup. I took him accordingly into the
guest-room, and showed it in triumph. But the man mistook it for a
brandy-glass, and said to his wife, “Oh! it is _vodka_ he wants.” I had
therefore to return to the charge, and took him into the yard, thinking
to see a hen walking about; but they were gone to roost. So I pointed
to a pigeon instead, but he perceived no connection between that
and a hen’s egg; nor, on second thoughts, did I. At last I saw in a
corner some broken egg-shells, and, picking them up, showed them, and
effected my object. Further east, I lost a pocket-book containing some
of my most important documents, and was compelled to go through a very
serious conversation all in dumb show; but this I must not anticipate.

On the Shilka I experienced no inconvenience through not knowing
Russ; for, on arriving at the first station, the Cossack went off for
fresh oarsmen, and I aired my dozen words in ordering the _samovar_,
which important word, together with _tarelka_, a plate; _chai_, tea;
_voda_, water; _stakan_, a glass; _sakhar_, sugar; _khleb_, bread; and
_maslo_, butter, I had thoroughly mastered. It was no part of my duty,
I suppose, to feed my Cossack; for I observed he had brought with him
black bread, but of course I offered him tea and other fare, to which
he took very kindly, even to preserved meat, though he fought shy of
anchovy paste, which probably he had never seen before.

Tea over, we left our first station, 17 miles from Stretinsk, for
station number two, 14 miles distant. But on this stage one of our
oarsmen was old and feeble, and I had insisted (by signs and motions)
that an extra hand should be hired, and that the Cossack should be
allowed to rest, which he did by curling himself up in the prow of the
boat and going to sleep. In this state of things darkness came on, and
eight o’clock, nine o’clock, and ten o’clock passed, and still we made
only slow progress. At last, in spite of the remonstrances of the men,
I took an oar myself, pulled away lustily till I had a warm jacket, and
at eleven o’clock we arrived at the post-house of Uktich.

On entering the room a practical illustration was afforded us of the
Oriental custom, “Take up thy bed and walk.” The people of the house,
not expecting travellers, had occupied the guest-chamber,--one on the
bedstead, another on the floor, and so on; but, upon my entering, they
snatched up the rugs or cloths upon which they were lying, and decamped
with alacrity. In crossing Siberia we rarely saw a genuine bed in the
houses of the peasantry, and the people do not usually, I believe,
undress before going to sleep.[4]

Soon after five the next morning, I roused the Cossack, who had taken
up his quarters on the floor of the guest-room, and by six we started
for Botti and Shilkinsk, the third and fourth stations from Stretinsk;
and, after sundry stoppages, at seven in the evening we finished our
day’s pull of 44 miles, and reached Ust-Kara, where Colonel Kononovitch
was awaiting my arrival.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] The Russian Government, when sending officers overland from
Petersburg to the Amur province, say, for instance, to Nikolaefsk,
grants them money according to their rank, and the number of horses
they are supposed to drive. Thus, a lieutenant is allowed 2 horses,
a captain of the third rank 3, captain of the second rank 4, captain
of first rank 5, rear-admiral 6, vice-admiral 7, full admiral 8; and
the sum for horses in each case is doubled; in addition to which, for
outfit, single officers receive on the outgoing journey half a year’s
pay, and married officers a year’s; but when they are returning,
three-fourths of a year’s pay is allowed to married and single alike.
The distance from Petersburg to Nikolaefsk is 9,848 versts, and the
cost of a horse for this distance, at the time of my visit, was 277
roubles--say £28. An officer, therefore, going to this privileged part,
or returning on furlough, might multiply £28 by the number of horses
to which his rank entitled him, double the product, and add 6, 9, or
12 months’ pay, and so realize a heavy purse. Out of this he might
save considerably by hiring less horses than his dignity was supposed
to require, by sharing expenses with another traveller, or, lastly, in
the case of one already in the Amur province, and entitled to leave
on furlough, by giving up his holiday and pocketing the travelling
expenses, which last, I found, was not unfrequently done at Nikolaefsk,
by officers who had got into debt, and looked forward to furlough money
as the means of getting them out of their difficulties.

[2] He left it at Tiumen, where it still may be, for aught I know
to the contrary; in danger, perhaps, of being immortalized, like
another old “equipage,” of which the following story is told. The
Russians apply the term “equipage” to any vehicle, whether on wheels
or runners, and whether drawn by horses, dogs, deer, or camels. The
same word “equipage” is used in Russian, as in French, to denote a
ship’s crew. Accordingly, a few years after the disappearance of Sir
John Franklin, the English Admiralty requested the Russian Government
to make inquiries for the lost navigator along the coasts and islands
of the Arctic Ocean. An order to that effect was sent to the Siberian
authorities, and they in turn commanded all subordinates to inquire and
report; whereupon a petty officer, somewhere in Western Siberia, was
puzzled at the order to inquire concerning the English Captain, John
Franklin, and his equipage. In due time, however, he reported, “I have
made the proper inquiries. I can learn nothing about Captain Franklin,
but in one of my villages there is an old sleigh that no one claims,
which may be his equipage.”

[3] The names of several have been mentioned who crossed Siberia
turning northwards to the Sea of Okhotsk, or southwards to China; some,
too, as Captain Cochrane and Mr. Atkinson, reached Nertchinsk and the
surrounding neighbourhood; but none went on to the Amur. Mr. Atkinson
wrote a book of “Travels in the Region of the Upper and Lower Amur,”
but he did not see the goodly land; he only described it, getting his
information, probably, from the Russian officers who took part in the
annexation of the country; and some of his illustrations, if I mistake
not, from the Russian book of Maack, which has proved a storehouse also
for subsequent writers.

Two American authors, however, had passed this way--Mr. Collins,
who, in 1858, from Chita, floated down the Shilka, continuing the
whole length of the Amur to Nikolaefsk; and Mr. Knox, who, bent on
journalistic enterprise, made his way up the Amur from Nikolaefsk to
Stretinsk. Unfortunately, I had neither of their works with me, nor had
I the more scholarly volume of Mr. Ravenstein, whose production, though
not that of an eye-witness, is far the best English work on the Amur,
being largely compiled from the information given by those Russians who
were the first scientific explorers of the country.

[4] Their favourite place for spending the night is on the top of the
stove, which is sometimes raised at one end by brickwork to form a rest
for the head. Before mounting this, they may perhaps take off their
boots and an upper garment; but an Anglo-Russian lady has told me that,
when living at Kertch, though she made it a condition, before a woman
entered her service, that she should undress before going to bed, yet
servants frequently transgressed; and that, as far as the men were
concerned, they never took off their clothes but for the bath or to
change them.

CHAPTER XXXVI.

_THE PENAL COLONY OF KARA._

Evil reputation of Kara.--Testimony from Siberians and exiles.--My
own experience.--The Commandant.--Our evening drive.--Hospitable
reception.--Statistics respecting prisoners, their crimes,
sentences, and settlement as “exiles.”--The Amurski
prison.--Cossack barracks.--The upper prison.--Convicts’
food.--Prisoners’ private laws.--Middle Kara prison.--Mohammedan
forçats.--Sunday labour.--Convict clothing.--Guard-house.--A
genuine political prisoner.--The church.--Lack of
preaching.--House of the Commandant.

In the penal colony of Kara I found more than 2,000 convicts, and a few
political prisoners, together with some of their wives and families,
a military staff, and some peasants. The penal institutions of this
place are not so old as those of Nertchinsk; but, like them, they
inherit a bad reputation. Mr. Atkinson appears to have been the first
author to bring the place under the notice of English readers, doing
so in no favourable terms, though he does not profess to speak as
an eye-witness. Before I left England I was told that, if I did not
intend to go east of the Baikal, I should see nothing but what might
be witnessed in the prisons of London, and that I should get no idea
of the real horrors of Siberian exile. This was said by a man who had
worked in the mines of Nertchinsk, and he urged me by all means to see
Kara.

Again, when we reached Siberia, and were travelling on the Obi, my
interpreter conversed with an officer in the prison service, whom he
told that I had come to Siberia for the purpose of seeing its prisons.
The officer expressed his doubts (as numbers of my English friends
had done before) as to whether I should succeed in getting at the
real state of the convicts in the mines and prisons; and he further
mentioned three places where they had to work specially hard, namely,
Alexandreffsky and Nertchinsk (about which I have spoken), and the
third was Kara.

We met further east a gentleman who told me that his brother-in-law,
a colonel, had given him sad accounts of the dreadful state of some
of the prisons in Eastern Siberia. I was introduced to the said
colonel, but a lengthy inquiry was productive of little more, on his
part, than general statements, and I obtained only five lines for my
note-book, the gist of them being that, when I asked for the very worst
places--those in which I should find most horrors--one of the four
places mentioned was Kara.

It is curious to notice that, of the four persons who spoke against
Kara, not one of them (so far as I know) ever went there; and, with
regard to Nertchinsk also, it is observable that the language of
ear-witnesses respecting its mines is far stronger than the language of
eye-witnesses, or even of those who suffered as prisoners. But I need
dwell no longer upon what others have said, and may proceed to write of
what I saw at Kara, where I was, if I mistake not, the first English
visitor.

It was towards evening when our boat reached Ust-Kara. Pacing the
river’s bank was Colonel Kononovitch, the Commandant of the colony. I
had been delayed on the way, and he had been for some hours awaiting
me, but a few words of explanation sufficed to make matters clear. My
tongue, after an enforced silence of nearly 30 hours, was now released.
We talked in French, and I soon discovered that I was addressing
an officer of more than average intelligence. He took me into the
police-master’s house for some light refreshment, and to leave my heavy
baggage, and then suggested that we should start on a drive of eight
miles, so as to reach our destination before dark.

Our way lay over a stony road, through a wild valley, which, in the
shades of evening, had a weird and out-of-the-world appearance.
The ridges of the hills were irregular, and partially covered with
conifers, while lower were deciduous shrubs and trees, though not of
considerable dimensions. Among the rank and tall herbage were some
late flowers, and an orange tiger-lily, about two feet high, that was
strange to me. After we had driven a few miles, we came to a _détour_
in the route, where the colonel proposed that we should clamber up a
bank, and walk down to the road on the other side. From this elevation
the landscape appeared wilder than ever, and the place looked like
a natural prison, from which escape was impossible. There was not
a habitation to be seen, and the consciousness that we were in the
neighbourhood of so many “unfortunates,” as they are called, gave me
similar feelings to those with which I looked down on the forest-bound
prison at Alexandreffsky.

As we drove along, and darkness crept on, there passed us labouring
men returning from work, who saluted us. “Who,” said I, “are they?”
“They are convicts,” said the colonel. “Convicts!” said I; “how,
then, are they loose?” “Oh,” said he, “a large proportion of the
condemned--perhaps half--live out of the prisons in their houses _en
famille_.[1] But they ought not to be out after dark.” I then began
to inquire respecting the crimes of the prisoners, and was informed
that there were in the place about 800 murderers, 400 robbers, and 700
vagrants or “_brodiagi_”; and having been told what proportion of these
were loose, I was not surprised to hear the colonel say that he usually
avoided, if possible, being out at night. I approved his caution. Being
very tired, moreover, and seeing that it was now dark, and that neither
of us was armed, I was heartily glad to reach Middle Kara, the end of
our drive.

Where I was to be quartered I did not know. There was no hotel in the
place, or even a post-house, and I doubt if they could have offered me
lodgings, as at Troitskosavsk, in the police-station. The commandant,
however, had arranged everything for me, and I found that I was to
occupy his own study. There he had prepared a neat, clean little bed;
and as I looked around at the European comforts on the table, in the
shape of writing materials and ornaments, it seemed like an arrival in
the library of an English gentleman rather than the private bureau of
the director of a penal colony.

I wanted to get a thorough rest against the morrow, for we had a stiff
programme before us. Moreover, the last bed I had occupied was nearly
600 miles away; and, with the exception of two nights, I had not taken
off my clothes to sleep for exactly a month. But the colonel insisted
first on giving me food, of which my prominent recollection is that
it was tastefully served, and consisted of delicacies that had been
out of reach for many a day, with tinned fruits, including pears that
had made their way from America up the Amur. When at last I undressed,
and stretched my limbs between a pair of sheets, I felt on excellent
terms with my surroundings in general, and the colonel in particular.
He was a fine-looking man, with intellectual tastes and an intelligent
forehead, and neither smoked, drank, nor played cards,--a trio of
virtues by no means always found in a Siberian official. The room was
clean and sweet; quietness reigned around; and, uninterrupted by the
rumbling of the tarantass or the noise of a post-house, I was left to
sleep in peace.

I had been asked overnight whether next morning I should like a bath.
Of course I jumped at the offer, having been able to get such a luxury
but twice in Siberia. Accordingly, on waking, the colonel brought me
a Turkish dressing-gown and bade me follow him. I thought, perhaps,
he would lead the way to a bath-room, instead of which he opened the
front door and marched me down the middle of his garden to a summer
bathing-shed. Here I splashed about, then returned to my toilet and to
breakfast.

Of course I asked all sorts of questions about the convicts, or, as
they are called, “forçats,” or _katorjniki_--prisoners condemned to
forced labour. Their number at Kara for four preceding years had been
as follows:--

1875 1876 1877 1878 1879[2]
2,600 2,722 2,635 2,543 2,458.

Their classification according to crime is important, as throwing some
light on the number of political prisoners, for whom, I was told, Kara
is a special place of deportation, and I have heard that it has become
more so since my visit. The only class where they could be included
was under the heading “various,” of whom there were 73; and this would
suffice to include the politicals, respecting whose number I asked, and
was told that it was 13 Russians and 28 Poles. I did not hear of any of
the sects of dissenters in prison at Kara.[3]

As regards the sentences of the convicts, they were all, I believe,
condemned to hard labour, either of the fabric or the mines--one year
of work in the mines counting for a year and a half in the fabric.
There were a few, chiefly “vagabonds,” sentenced to Kara for life;
but for such grave offenders even as parricides, fratricides, etc.,
20 years was the extreme limit of their terms. The convicts are able
to shorten their time, to some extent, by good conduct, and are set
free to live as colonists, or, as they are then technically called,
“exiles,” or “_poselenetsi_.”[4]

Not all of the forçats at Kara, as already observed, were in prison,
nor were those in close confinement placed all in one building, but
in six, distributed over a distance about 15 miles long. Thus we left
one behind at Ust-Kara, another about midway between the river and
Middle Kara. At Middle Kara were one or two prison buildings, and in
the opposite direction from the river were two more, the High Prison
and the Amurski Prison, which last was eight miles distant from the
commandant’s house. To this last the colonel proposed to drive first,
and then work back, taking the others in order; and this, after
breakfast, we proceeded to do.

It was a beautiful morning when we started, and the bright sun and
the clear air gave a very different aspect to the valley from that of
the preceding night. The dark hues of the conifers stood out well in
contrast with foliage of lighter green, a stream was visible here and
there, and immense forests bounded the horizon. We drove a pair of
splendid horses that would have attracted attention in Rotten Row; and
as we dashed along the road I perceived at its side wild currants and
strawberries, raspberries, and wild peas, the apple, and the vine. The
colonel pointed out a gold-mine as we proceeded, but I do not remember
seeing any one there at work.

When we reached the Amurski prison, it proved to be a log building,
of good pitch, and of a single storey. Most of the prisoners were
out at work, but a few were engaged in whitewashing the rooms, which
the colonel said was done at least four times a year. The wards were
large sleeping-rooms, occupied for the greater part of the year only
by night. There were no bedsteads, but a wide shelf, like that of a
guard-room, ran round three of the walls; and on this they placed their
large bags, for the making of which sacking was supplied to them, to
serve the double purpose of clothes-bag and bed.

Near the prison were the summer barracks of a company of 150 Cossacks,
a fourth of whom were replaced yearly. The barracks consisted of large
canvas booths, with rows of beds arranged in the fashion of the summer
hospitals. A school is provided in winter for the Cossacks, of whom
rather more than a half read.

We next drove back to the _Verchne_ (or upper) prison, a building much
older than the one we had left, having in the rooms an upper sleeping
shelf resembling a loft, on which the prisoners sleeping would have
the full benefit of the breathed air of their comrades below. The
commandant saw this, and pointed out that it was an old and doomed
building, and that in the new erections they were avoiding a repetition
of the evil. In this prison were two solitary punishment cells, one of
them being occupied on the morning of our visit for the first time in
the colonel’s experience.

Some prisoners, it seemed, might receive money, and some not. There was
in this prison a Jew to whom 150 roubles a year were sent by friends.
His family were living outside. They might bring him food, and were
allowed to pay him at least a weekly visit.

We went into the kitchen, and I looked attentively at the scale of
diet hung on the wall as in prisons in England.[5] The weight of the
highest allowance in Siberia, as observed before, is far in excess
(nearly double) of the highest English convicts’ allowance, though
for non-working prisoners in Siberia an abatement must be made for
fast-days. The annual cost of provisions for each prisoner at Kara is
65 roubles 72¾ kopecks, or say £6 10_s._ The soup appeared somewhat
roughly served in small wooden tubs or bowls, but I presume that the
place is too distant to allow of crockeryware being easily procured.
Every prisoner provided his own spoon. Knives, as in most prisons, were
forbidden.

We saw, lounging about this building, two or three men who seemed
to have very little to do. They were called “_starostas_,” that
is, seniors or elders. Each ward of men in prison, and each gang
of exiles on the march, chooses a starosta, who is their ruler and
representative, the middle-man between them and the authorities. He
receives the charities given them on the road, and pays and bribes the
petty officers for little favours. He is, in fact, banker, purveyor,
and general factotum to the body by whom he is elected. The authorities
recognise this arrangement, exempt the starostas from labour, and
through them deal with the prisoners rather than give their small
orders direct. On behalf of the prisoners it is the starosta’s duty to
befriend them, and see that they have the proper amount of food, and
whatever else may be their due; whilst, on behalf of the authorities,
should anything go wrong with the prisoners, the starosta is held
responsible.[6] The office, however, at Kara, notwithstanding its
privileges and exemptions, is by no means coveted; and the men, rather
than be unoccupied, though it be to rule, prefer to work and to serve.

In the prison at Middle Kara was a considerable number of Tatars. Why
they were unoccupied I know not, unless it happened to be a bath-day,
which is a holiday, and recurs twice a month; or, again, it may have
been one of the Mohammedan festivals, some of the greater of which they
are allowed to observe, though not the Friday in every week. Nor are
the Jewish prisoners allowed to rest on their Sabbath, nor Christians
on the Sunday. It might possibly be argued, in justification of this,
that Sunday is not usually observed at any of the Siberian gold-mines;
but, however that may be, I thought this robbing the hard-labour
prisoners of their day of rest the most cruel and unjust thing in their
lot. A greater than a Russian Tsar gave to man the Sabbath, and to take
it away from him is, to my mind, nothing less than a sin and a shame.[7]

Near the prison at Middle Kara was a storehouse, to which we mounted
by a flight of outside steps. It contained a quantity of material for
prisoners’ clothing--coarse linen for shirts and summer trousers, felt
for coats, and leather for shoes and gloves; also a number of made-up
garments. A pair of summer shoes or slippers was valued at 3_s._, and
a coat of felt at 12_s._ A pair of gloves, such as the prisoners use
in the mines, was given me as a keepsake. I have added them to my
prison curiosities, collected in various parts of the world, comprising
fetters, whip, handcuffs, specimens of prison labour, and a variety of
other lugubrious objects.

There was likewise a guard-house at Middle Kara. In it I observed,
as I had done at Tobolsk, that the furniture and arrangements for
the soldiers were not at all better than for the prisoners. From
information respecting soldiers’ food received later, I make no
doubt the rations of the Cossack guards are less ample than those
provided for the labouring convicts; and I am persuaded that under
some circumstances, dear liberty excepted, the Cossacks are more to be
pitied than their prisoners. Thus, when a gang of exiles comes at night
to an étape, they can lie down and rest, whereas the Cossacks have to
mount guard.

In this building, opening out of the central room guarded by soldiers,
were a few (perhaps half-a-dozen) separate cells, through the doors of
which no one could pass without being seen by the Cossacks. These cells
were evidently inner prisons, in which were kept those whose escape was
especially to be prevented. I entered two of them. The first was not
quite so wide, but about the length and rather higher than the cell
of an English prison, measuring perhaps five feet wide by eight long
and ten high, and occupied by a Tatar gentleman, with his rosary of a
hundred beads in hand, with nothing to do.

[Illustration: TATAR GENTLEMAN EXILE IN WINTER DRESS.]

On entering the second cell, occupied by a political prisoner,
just then at work in the mines, I had at last lighted upon the
dwelling-place of one of a class about whom such harrowing stories
have been told--a genuine political prisoner of high calibre, and a
Jew to wit, undergoing the full sentence of punishment in the mines
of Siberia. This meant, in his case, that he had to labour in summer
very much like a navvy, from six in the morning till seven in the
evening, with certain hours for rest and meals; but in the winter he
frequently had nothing to do. His wife was living near, and might see
him twice a week. But his cell was that which struck me most. Compared
to the criminal wards in the other prisons, this was a little parlour.
It was clean, and in a manner garnished--not, indeed, in the fashion
of a cell at San Francisco, where I found a “boss” painter condemned
for life, and who had decorated his cell from floor to ceiling, as if
intending to remain there for the rest of his days (this would have
been out of keeping with Russian ideas); but the Kara prisoner had
certain articles of furniture and eating requisites, the placing and
arrangement of which indicated familiarity with the habits of decent
society, and showed the prisoner to be above the common herd. One of
his books I found was a treatise on political economy, which may be
noted in connection with the remark of Goryantchikoff in his “Buried
Alive,” who asserts that in his prison no book was allowed but the New
Testament. The room certainly was not large, but there was abundance
of light, the outlook from the long window being not on a prison wall
surrounded by chevaux-de-frise, but commanding a view of the Kara
valley such as a Londoner might envy; whilst just outside was the
public road, along which could be seen everything that passed. I speak
only truth when I say that, if I had the misfortune to be condemned to
prison for life, and had my choice between Millbank in London or this
political’s cell at Kara, I would certainly choose the latter.

Between the guard-house and the residence of the colonel was a
collection of buildings and store-houses, called “Middle” Kara. Among
these was the church, the priest of which was the only chaplain I
could hear of for the prisoners. He practised photography in addition
to his ecclesiastical calling, and although he probably needed every
rouble he gained thereby--and I certainly ought not to revile him,
since by his means the colonel was able to present me with some
views of the colony--yet it would have rejoiced me to hear that he
was doing something worthy of his position for the spiritual good of
the convicts. The pastoral superintendence, frequent services, and
preaching to prisoners, as carried on in English prisons, is unheard of
at Kara, and I gathered that the convicts attended church only twice a
year.[8]

[Illustration: RUSSIAN VILLAGE CHURCH.]

I may here mention that the religious scruples of Siberian exiles are
to some extent respected. Thus, for the Jewish prisoners to be obliged
to eat food prepared by Gentiles would be an abomination. In the prison
at Tiumen we were informed that 42 Jews, who had been confined there
during the previous winter, had been placed together in a ward, with a
separate cooking-place, in which they prepared their food canonically.
So, too, a similar arrangement had been observed with 71 Mohammedans;
and I have just remarked that there were many of this religion
together, in the prison at Middle Kara, who were allowed, within
certain limitations, the exercise of their religious observances. I
have already said that we met a Protestant pastor who made periodical
visits to the prisons and mines; and on the Amur I travelled with
a Roman Catholic priest, from Nikolaefsk, who was returning from a
lengthened tour along the river, which doubtless included visits to his
co-religionists in confinement.

After seeing Middle Kara our morning’s inspection was over. We had
driven 15 miles, and as there were prisons in the opposite direction,
extending over the same length of country, it will be seen that for
the colonel to pay a visit to all his Kara prisons involved a drive,
in all, of 30 miles, which I understood he accomplished at least once
a week; and he had also, I believe, another penal institution to
inspect, called Alexandreffsky Zavod, at a still greater distance. His
salary was £330 per annum, and an unpretentious house, his perquisites,
perhaps, making up his income to £400. In his yard was a good
bath-house and offices, and an enclosure with a couple of wild deer,
caught and kept for his children.

At dinner I was introduced to Madame Kononovitch, who was considerably
younger than her husband. They had married at Irkutsk, which to a
Siberian is Paris. It was not greatly to be wondered at, therefore,
if she found Kara somewhat dull. The society of the place was very
limited. There were the families of the officers and the wives of a few
gentle or noble prisoners, but these latter of course could be received
into the colonel’s house only with a certain amount of reserve. The
servants were, I suppose, all of them exiles, but the dinner was well
served. I remember nothing of the food, save that the colonel had made
a successful effort to get me a plate of wild strawberries. The season
(July 26th) was now late, and they were the last I ate in Siberia.
Madame spoke French well, and, as their children were growing up, she
and her husband were interested in their education, and made many
inquiries concerning our methods of teaching in England. The colonel
then requested me to send him some English books; and soon after dinner
we started for the hospital, the orphanage, and one of the mines.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] This is permitted after the expiration of two, four, six, or eight
years (or nearly one-third of the punishment), to those who by good
behaviour attain to a certain class. They still live on the spot and
must work, and after a second period of this half-liberty, they are
sent to a better place as exiles. Whilst in the former class they may
be re-imprisoned for bad conduct, but not, I find, after they are set
free to colonize (except for fresh crimes), as I have stated in my
chapter on the exiles, vol. i., p. 35.

[2] The colonel had not quite all the statistics to hand for 1879.
Their number, therefore, at the time of my visit, was given me as
2,144, classified, according to their crimes, as follows:--

Men. Women. Total.
Murderers 668 125 793
Robbers with violence 404 5 409
Incendiaries 29 9 38
For rape 22 22
Forgers 45 1 46
Offenders against discipline, and
defaulters in public service 86 86
Vagabonds 665 12 677
Various 71 2 73
----- ----- -----
1,990 154 2,144

[3] The only place where I met any of these in confinement was in
the prison hospital at Tomsk, in which were three _Subbotniki_,--one
of them a priest, and the others descendants of priests,--who were
suffering from scorbutic disease, and who were in prison, I _think_
I understood, for trying to propagate their creed; though, as this
would seem to be contrary to what I understood were now the laws
respecting dissenters, it may be that I did not understand the whole
case. Subbotniki are so called because they believe that we ought to
keep _Subbota_, or Saturday, as the day of rest. They are said also to
consider circumcision a binding ordinance, because it was to Abraham,
the father of the faithful, that the Lord gave it, and Moses wrote, “in
your generations _for ever_.” In some other respects, perhaps, such as
purifications, they may further Judaize.

[4] The number of forçats who, after finishing their terms, were, by
special order of the Government, distributed, as exiled colonists among
the inhabitants of the provinces of Eastern Siberia, for the seven
years preceding my visit, was as follows:--

1872 1873 1874 1875 1876 1877 1878
176 193 134 167 290 472 672

--the last year thus showing a release of a third of the whole number I
found under detention.

[5] It appeared that, when a man was working in the mines, he received
daily 4 lbs. (Russian) of bread, 1 lb. of meat, ¼ lb. of buckwheat,
and a small piece of brick-tea (_kirpichny chai_; _kirpich_ meaning a
brick), amounting to a quarter of a brick per month. In winter they are
given cabbage and potatoes. When a man was not working, he received 3
lbs. of bread, ½ lb. of meat, and 1/12 lb. of buckwheat. No _kvas_ was
provided at Kara except in the hospital. These allowances are given to
the prisoners at Kara in kind, and not, as at Irkutsk, their value in
money, which would not be so suitable, as I saw no shops at Kara, nor
did I hear of any local committee to-eke out the prisoners’ money.

[6] Thus the prisoners make laws for themselves and invest their
seniors with a good deal of power. In this matter there is “honour
among thieves.” I was told, for instance, that east of Tomsk the
sentinels ask an oath of the prisoners that they will not attempt to
escape, and then give them certain liberties. My informant said that
he had sometimes met gangs of prisoners alone, their sentinels having
stayed behind to drink at a public-house. When a general promise
has been thus given, should one dare to run away, he is pursued by
the others, and when caught is thrashed, or loaded, according to M.
Andreoli, with a sack of earth tied on his back. I have even heard of a
gang of exiles sentencing one of their number to death for the breach
of some law of their own making, the sentence being carried out of
course unknown to the authorities--such cases, I presume, being very
rare.

[7] The only days at Kara on which men are supposed not to work are
three days at Christmas, New Year’s Day, three days before Lent, three
days at Easter, and certain imperial birthdays, making in all 15 days
in the year, and the first and fifteenth day of each month for the
bath. There are other days when, as a matter of fact, for various
reasons, they do not work; but I am speaking of the rule.

[8] This may be noticed in connection with a statement of the
author of “The Russians of To-day” (p. 231), who says: “Once a
week a pope--himself an exile--goes down into the mines to bear
the consolations of religion, under the form of a sermon enjoining
patience.” I suspect that the poor fellows would be only too thankful
to have the opportunity once a week of listening to a sermon upon
patience or any other subject! Moreover, the number of sermons given by
our author to his prisoners is exceedingly liberal (52 in the course of
the year), seeing that in an ordinary church in Petersburg or Moscow
the number does not usually exceed half-a-dozen. I have seen it stated
that properly there should be 12, but, in Siberia, on my asking the
grandson of a metropolitan how often his father preached, he told me
“five or six times a year,” and after many inquiries I never heard of
but one priest in the empire, though, of course, there may be others,
who preached, or rather read, a sermon every week.

CHAPTER XXXVII.

_THE CONVICT MINES OF KARA._

Gold-mines not underground.--Hours of labour.--Visit to a
mine.--Punishments.--Branding abolished.--Miners marching
off.--Statistics respecting runaways.--Women criminals at
mines.--A new building for expected politicals.--Superannuated
forçats.--The hospitals.--“Birching” and its effects.--Kara in
1859.--Improvements effected by Colonel Kononovitch.--A children’s
home.--Return to the gold-mine.--Comparison of Siberian and
English convicts.--Distribution of books.

As I had visited the mine of the Archangel Gabriel near Krasnoiarsk, I
was in some measure prepared what to expect in the gold-mines of Kara.
It was not easy, however, to get rid of a preconceived notion attaching
to Siberian mines, that the convicts _must_ be working underground, for
I had entered the country with ideas such as those expressed by the
author of “The Russians of To-day.”[1]

But now that I have been to the convict gold-mines, I have, happily, no
such horrors to relate. All the gold-mining is done aboveground. The
season begins on the 15th February, and ends on the 15th November,
and they work 13 hours a day, excepting certain hours for refreshment
and rest. I suppose, however, both the length of the season and of
their daily labour must be to some extent modified by the rigour of the
frost and the duration of the light. During the three winter months the
ground is frozen, and they are mostly unemployed.

The visiting of the mine at Kara was far from pleasant. It was like
walking into a large gravel-pit, from 20 to 30 feet deep. In this
pit 198 men were at work, some removing the roots, stones, and
surface-earth, and others carting off the gold-bearing sand to the
washing machine. The miners were surrounded with a cordon of armed
sentries, as at Portland prison. A large number of the convicts
had irons on their legs; this, however, was something special to a
particular prison, and was inflicted for two months as a punishment for
aiding and abetting the escape of four comrades.[2]

A certain measure of earth was allotted to the men as each day’s
labour. A released Pole, who had been at Kara, though he did not work
in the mines, told me it was a 7-feet cube to three men. This he
allowed to be less than the quantity worked by free labourers. He said
these latter had the help of horses and were better fed, but there were
70 horses in the mine I visited at Kara, and the reader may judge, from
what has been said, whether or not the miners’ food was sufficient. So
far, therefore, the Siberian convicts at Kara did not appear to be
worked harder than--I should think not so hard as--our own at Portland.

I asked what was done to them if they did not fulfil their tasks, and
was told that they were punished first by privation, and, if that
did not suffice, by corporal chastisement with rods. Kara, I heard
subsequently, is one of three places in Siberia where the _troichatka_
or “plète” is in use. The colonel described it as a whip with three
ends, of which, for serious offences, any number up to 20 stripes might
be given; but, he said, he rarely used it, cases of insubordination
being usually met by seclusion, irons, less food, or delay of removal
to a higher class, which last might mean, in some cases, the virtual
prolongation of a sentence for a couple of years.

The branding of prisoners is no longer practised. There were two or
three veterans at Kara, one of whom, at my request, was brought to
me, and whose cheeks and forehead were marked with the letters K A T,
an abbreviation of _Katorjnik_, a convict. This man had been marked
in 1863, and the letters presented a tattooed appearance, though the
operation of tattooing must be the more severe, since it is slowly done
by hand, whereas, in the case of the prisoners, the brand was done by
a kind of cupping instrument, or stamp, furnished with small points,
which, on being tapped, pierced the skin. A liquid was then rubbed on,
and so the convict was tattooed for life. I just missed seeing one of
these instruments at Nikolaefsk, where it had been recently sold as a
curiosity.

It was late in the afternoon when we reached the mine at Kara; and
by the time we had looked round, and gone among the miners, the hour
arrived for leaving off work; the drum sounded, and the convicts
formed in line, some of them shouldering tools, and what looked like
stretchers for carrying loads of earth between two bearers. Their heavy
tools were put in carts to be drawn by horses, and all marched under
guard to their prison, five miles off. This walk, therefore, to and fro
must in this instance be added to their day’s labour; but I noticed
that, when the convicts walked out of the mine, the free labourers
continued working, and did so for some hours afterwards.

Before the miners started, their numbers were called, for prisoners
sometimes attempt to remain in the mine all night for the purpose, it
may be, of washing earth secretly to secure a little gold, or, more
frequently, with a view to escape. If it be spring-time, a runaway may
succeed, during the summer, in getting a long way off, and, as winter
comes on, give himself up, be imprisoned as a vagrant or vagabond,
and, the following spring, be fortunate enough, perchance, to make
his escape again, and so get towards Europe. Sometimes they manage to
obtain forged passports, and travel as free men. At other times the
escaped gather in bands, and roam about the country. It is, in fact,
by no means uncommon to meet escaped prisoners on the roads, but they
are not spoken of as malicious. They are not like banditti. They will
sometimes steal a chest of tea from the hindmost vehicle of a caravan,
or, indeed, run off with horse, cart, and all; but they do not usually
attack travellers. The runaways beg food of the peasantry, who, of
course, by law, ought not to aid them; so they compromise matters
by placing food on their window-sills at night, ostensibly with the
charitable purpose of helping passers-by in distress. They thus avoid
conflict with the authorities, and do not anger the convicts, who might
otherwise do them mischief, especially by setting the house on fire.

The half-liberty given to convicts after a period of good behaviour
presents a loophole for escape, of which many hundreds avail
themselves.[3] These escaped convicts are known as “_Brodiagi_,” or
“roaming gentry.” They wander about, guided through the forests by
marks left by the natives and preceding runaways. There are some
places, it is said, where they can live without fear. M. Réclus goes so
far as to say that sometimes the authorities, in times of difficulty,
or when ordinary labourers fail, call in the help of “vagabonds,” with
the tacit understanding that they will not ask for their passports,
whereupon hundreds emerge from the surrounding forests and present
themselves for employment. I am not able to confirm this from my own
experience as regards the authorities, but I met with a private firm
who had in their employ several men without their “papers.”

When marched out of the Kara mine, those in the higher category are
free to go to their families. I saw, too, near the Cossack barracks, a
dwelling in course of erection for those who were living half-free, but
in which they were to sleep at night. Those in the lower category are
taken to their respective prisons, and may sleep, if they choose, in
summer from nine o’clock till five, and in winter from seven till seven.

I looked in at a prison, near the colonel’s house, just before the men
were going to rest. I do not remember that there were any lights, and
the place was gloomy enough; but I suspect that it must be more so
during the long nights of winter. At Tiumen I observed but one small
candlestick in a room for 65 prisoners,--light enough to make the
darkness visible. In this respect my testimony is of limited value, as
my visits were paid by day, but I can readily believe Goryantchikoff’s
dismal description of the foul air and gloom of a Siberian prison by
night. Whether the majority of prisoners, however, would wish for a
constant and plentiful supply of oxygen I am not sure. They certainly
do not provide for it in their own houses, any more than do some of the
poorer classes in England.

I have said nothing yet of the female prisoners at the mines of Kara.
Russian women look upon prison life from very different points of view.
I met a lady in Petersburg who visited the female wards in the prisons,
and she told me that on one occasion a woman, on being brought back to
her cell for the fourth or fifth time, found the arrangement of its
furniture altered, whereupon she asked that her bed might be put “in
the place where she always slept”; whilst another, a worthy old soul,
on entering her cell, turned to the ikon and thanked God that her old
age was so well provided for! This, of course, is very different from
the picture of Siberian female prison life represented in “The Russians
of To-day” (p. 230):--

“Women are employed in the mines as sifters, and get no better
treatment than the men. Polish ladies by the dozen have been sent
down to rot and die, while the St. Petersburg journals were declaring
that they were living as free colonists; and, more recently, ladies
connected with Nihilist conspiracies have been consigned to the mines
in pursuance of a sentence of hard labour.” I neither heard nor saw
anything of women labouring _in_ the mines, and one of my released
exile informants, from Nertchinsk, says that it is not true that women
work _in_ the mines in getting the mineral. At Kara there were 154
female prisoners to more than 2,000 men; and since the latter have
a clean shirt every week, it would seem likely that the women may
be employed in laundries and work-rooms, only that I am under the
impression the prisoners wash their own linen. Five out of every six
of the women convicts at Kara, dismal to relate, were murderesses,
and walking between 58 of them in their prison at Ust-Kara was not
pleasant. Some had babies, and most of the mothers had murdered their
husbands. Husband-murder seemed to me painfully frequent in Russia, for
which, in the fifteenth century, they had a barbarous punishment: the
murderess was buried alive up to the neck, and left to the hungry dogs!

Near this women’s department was a new cellular building of
wood, recently erected. I notice this particularly because of its
bearing upon the number of political exiles that are supposed to be
_imprisoned_ in Siberia. The spring of 1879, it will be remembered,
was a time of great excitement in Russia. An attempt was made upon the
life of the Tsar, the great cities of the empire were placed under
military command, and the journals talked of troops of prisoners being
sent off to Siberia. And this was true, only they were not troops of
_political_ prisoners. A telegram, however, was sent from Petersburg
to the telegraph office at Kara, enjoining the commandant to prepare
places for a certain number of prisoners about to be dispatched. But
the number prepared for was not very great after all, for, as far as I
remember, it did not exceed 20 or 30 at most; so that if the convoys of
29 prisoners, whom my interpreter met in returning, were all destined
for Kara, as he heard they were, then this small prison would be
filled, and it might, in a sense, be called “a State prison.” When,
therefore, in a previous chapter, I ventured to say there was, with one
exception, no prison in Siberia that could be called a political or
State prison, this was the exception in my mind.[4]

Of course I entered this little prison and looked at the cells. They
were ranged on either side of a roomy oblong space, in which were two
stoves. The chief fault I had to find with the cells was that they were
very small, and lighted, I think, only from the lobby within, the area
of each cell being certainly smaller than that of the cells in Coldbath
Fields, though I am not sure that they were smaller than those at
Portland, nor do I remember how they compared with ours for height. If,
therefore, the prisoners were to work by day, as do ours at Portland,
perhaps the cells at Kara were not too small. For my own part, I would
rather inhabit one of them in solitude by night than be turned in among
the motley crew of the larger prisons.

There were convicts at Ust-Kara, however, in a plight more pitiable
than those confined in the political cells, or who had to work in
the mines. I allude to the occupants of two or three wards in an old
weather-beaten, smoke-dried, low-pitched building, in which were
confined a number of old men, perhaps from 30 to 50 in number, who were
not ill in such sense as to be patients in the hospital, but who were
condemned to prison for life, or who, though too old to work, had not
served their time.

I do not remember any sight in Siberia that so touched me as this. To
see scores of able-bodied men pent up in wards with nothing to do was
bad, to hear the clanking of their chains was worse, though many of
them were burly fellows who could carry them well. More touching still
were the convoys of exiles with faithful and innocent women following
their husbands; but to see these old men thus waiting for death was
a most melancholy picture. The doctor inspects the convicts once a
month, and determines upon those who are past work, who, in the absence
of any specific disease, are then brought into these wards for the
remainder of their lives. To release them, the colonel pointed out,
would be no charity, because, being too old to work, and being out
of the near range of poor-houses or similar institutions, they would
simply starve. And thus they were left in confinement for a Higher
Power to set them free. They lounged in the prison and in the yard, and
some sat near a fire, though it was a sunny day in July. One old man
was pointed out who had attained to fourscore years, and another had
reached the age of ninety, and so on. The difficult breathing of one,
however, the wheezing lungs of a second, and the hacking cough of a
third, proclaimed in prophetic tones that their time was short; and one
wished them a softer pillow for a dying head than a convict’s shelf in
a prison ward. Their building was one of the oldest in the place, and
was doomed to be pulled down within a month.

There were two hospitals at Kara; one near the house of the commandant,
at Middle Kara, containing, at the time of my visit, 43 patients; and
the other at Ust-Kara, with 93 patients.[5] By the time the exiles
have reached Kara they have trudged nearly 1,000 miles, and have been
lodged, after leaving Moscow, in about 200 étapes and prisons. Many, of
course, die on the route, but I have no official statistics upon this
point. A released exile told me that, as far as he remembered, it was
in his day about 16 per cent. With the survivors the fatigue of the
march, together with deficiencies or irregularities of nourishment, and
the bad atmosphere in some of the prisons, often induces scorbutus or
scurvy. The colonel said that with bathing twice a day, and with good
food, they are soon cured; and, though many arrive sick in April, they
are commonly well before autumn. In winter they have fewer patients
generally, and commonly no cases of scorbutus at all.

We visited the hospital at Middle Kara on the Saturday afternoon. It
was a fine building, with large, lofty, and airy rooms, which were
clean, and decked with boughs of birch and coniferous trees, placed
in the corners, not merely for ornament, but with the idea that the
odour given off by them is salubrious. I saw the same thing on a large
scale in the prison hospital at Tomsk; and upon my asking in one of the
prisons at Ust-Kara why a large branch of cypress was placed there,
they said it was for the sake of the smell.

In the Siberian hospitals, at the head of every bed, was hung a board,
with the occupant’s name written in Russian, and the name of the
disease, written in Roman letters, in Latin; and as this was the only
part of the writing I could read, I used generally to run my eye over
the diseases in the wards. A remark made thereon caused the doctors
sometimes to ask if I had studied medicine, which unfortunately I had
not. Hence I was nonplussed at the word “costegcetis,” written over a
man’s bed, and of which I asked an explanation; whereupon I was told
that the man, who had been a ringleader in aiding the recent escape of
the runaways, had been birched with 100 stripes of the rod, and that
he was consequently in hospital for recovery. Whether the effects of
a birching are very serious I do not clearly make out, but I met at
least two cases in which the recipients of the rod made fun of it. One
was that of a servant in a house where I stayed. She was a convict, and
therefore liable, in case of misconduct, to be sent by her mistress to
the police to be birched, as in bygone days had been more than once
done with her; but she did not fear the switches, saying they would not
_kill_ her: “they did indeed make one a little sore, but that was of no
consequence!”

I saw only one suffering in this way at Kara; and the colonel told me,
as already stated, that though he rarely used the whip, yet that he
did not choose to be trifled with. It was manifest that he could not
maintain discipline among 2,000 convicts if he did, yet I met with
no prison official in Siberia who seemed so judiciously to line with
velvet the glove of steel as did Colonel Kononovitch. The whole place
bore about it marks of the superintendence of a man who conscientiously
acted from a high sense of duty.

I have already mentioned what an unenviable reputation Kara had in
former days. An old sea captain, with whom I stayed, told me he paid a
visit to Kara in 1859, when there were 2,000 men branded, and chained
to their barrows by night and by day. The overseer of the gold-mines,
a German, told him that he had shot four men who had killed others
when at work; and I have heard, since my return, that some of the
predecessors of Colonel Kononovitch were so cruel that the mention
of their names made convicts tremble. It is not, then, greatly to be
wondered at that this evil reputation has descended to later days.

But Colonel Kononovitch had effected great improvements. It has
already been pointed out that many of the Siberian prisons were old
and dilapidated, but that reforms were expected yearly to take place;
and, there being no money forthcoming, things were allowed to go on
as best they could. It was under this condition of affairs that the
colonel was appointed to Kara, with its crazy buildings, some of which
had been pulled down only a few days before my arrival. I saw one or
two that were yet standing. Of course he applied for funds to meet the
expenses of new buildings so urgently needed, but received only the
stock answer with a polite bow that there were insufficient funds, and
that they could not expend money on prisons whilst waiting for reforms;
whereupon the average Siberian official might have allowed things to
drift, but not so the colonel! The reforms he knew had been talked of
for 15 years, and he commenced a number of “economies,” by which, if
money were not forthcoming from one quarter, it might be obtained from
another.[6]

In this way he might quietly have pocketed £1,200 a year, and if in
Russian fashion he had handed round hush money, all might probably
have been smooth enough. But so did not the colonel, and he pointed
out some of the improvements he had been able to effect by these
economies.[7]

The subordinate officials at Kara are very scantily paid, the chief of
each prison receiving £70 a year, and his inferior officer £24. When
at Tomsk, we heard of prison officials still lower, under each of whom
were placed 30 prisoners, but who received only £6 a year and their
food and accommodation, which were similar to those of the prisoners.
It is not, therefore, greatly to be wondered at if these petty officers
are not above misappropriating some of the prisoners’ food, or taking
bribes. Colonel Kononovitch encouraged these men to engage in trade,
or to keep horses, in which case he employed them in carrying or other
ways, so long as they did not rob the prisoners.

But other substantial good was effected; for during the previous two
years and a half the colonel, chiefly, I understood, by his economies,
had erected no less than 18 buildings, for which the governor of the
province complimented him highly.[8]

The colonel, moreover, did not spend his savings wholly on prisoners,
or restrict his efforts to what might be strictly called his duty. He
exceeded that, and allowed his justice to enlarge into benevolence.
After seeing the hospital he took me to a children’s home which he had
built for boys whose fathers were in prison.[9]

The building was simple, but prettily situated within an enclosure,
where was the best kitchen-garden I had seen in Siberia. In a
green-house and a hot-house were growing melons, and I know not what.
These the colonel said he sold for the good of the concern, and the
money obtained for vegetables helped to pay the expenses of the
school. The schoolmaster was an exile, and had been, I suspect, of
good position from what I heard about him after I had left the place.
The children were assembled for me to see, and I was tempted to act
the schoolmaster and put to them some questions, but it was under
difficulties of a polyglot character; and by the time my ideas had
filtered twice through Russian, French, and English, the children’s
answers were not very clear. Everything looked clean and orderly,
and, what was better, there were about the place tokens of care and
sympathy. Behind the house was a natural shrubbery, enclosed from the
forest. In this a pavilion was erected, in which, from time to time,
the commandant brought his wife and family to drink tea with the
children, when the boys who had sisters in the colony might meet them,
and where the humanizing influence of kindness was allowed to flow
forth.

By the time we had seen the school the day was far spent, and I was
desirous to return to the mine to witness the final washing of the
sand. During the day there had been worked (I presume by convicts
and freemen together) 30 sajens, or, as they put it, 30,000 poods of
sand. The produce of the first half of the day had been taken out of
the machine; and after the convicts had left the mine, a few workmen
remained washing the sand, in which at length the gold was found
together with black dust of iron.[10]

The number of men who had stayed for the last of the washing was less
than a dozen, and there was a certain gravity manifested by the little
group as they took their places round the wooden apron on which was
pushed up and down the few handfuls of mineral that remained of 240
tons that had passed through the cylinder. Darkness came on, so that
they had to light torches of pine. There stood the colonel, looking
on with dignity. The Cossack, too, was there, with loaded rifle, to
protect the gold. The wooden scraper pushed away at the sand, and
then the brush, and there was left only the gold and iron, less than
half a pint. This was put in the miniature frying-pan, dried over an
extempore fire, and then placed in a tin can. It was given into my hand
that I might feel its weight, which I judged to be about a pound, and,
if so, worth £40. The can was then given to the Cossack, who mounted
his horse, and, accompanied by an escort, took it off to the treasury.

And thus ended the day. That the men who worked in the mines had no
easy task was plain, but it was equally plain that their labour,
as compared with that of an English navvy or convict, was nothing
extraordinary. The tread-wheel is unknown to them. Foreigners speak
with horror of Siberian punishments, to which, as a set-off, I may
mention that a Russian lady asked me, with a shudder, whether it could
possibly be true that in England we placed prisoners on a wheel, on
which, if they did not continue to step, it broke their legs! Comparing
Siberian convicts with English,[11] the Siberian has the advantage in
more food (which perhaps the climate may require), more intercourse
with his fellows, and far more permissions to receive visits from
his family. The Kara convict, when in the higher category, receives
besides 15 per cent. of what he earns for the Government; and even in
the lower category he is credited with the money, though its payment
is deferred till he mounts higher. Political prisoners also may write
to their friends; and though by strict right, I believe, criminals in
Siberia cannot do so, yet this rule is not carried out, or is as often
honoured in the breach as in the observance.

The following day was Sunday, and happened to be the colonel’s
name’s-day. This kept him at home for the morning to receive visitors.
A telegram came to felicitate him from Madame’s father, from
Ekaterineburg, a distance of 3,000 miles, taking 30 hours in transit.
As the visitors did not speak French, I was not introduced, and had a
comparatively quiet time to arrange and digest the information I had
received. Later, I unfolded to the colonel my plan of distributing the
Scriptures throughout Siberia. With this work he sympathized heartily,
and promised to do what I wished. He subsequently received a lion’s
share of the books, etc., I left with the governor of the province.
I gave him some for the children’s home, and afterwards sent him a
considerable number for his soldiers. All these reached Kara safely,
and I have since had the great satisfaction of hearing that they were
properly distributed throughout the colony. According to my latest
news, the colonel is said to have left Kara; and if this be so, I can
only hope that he has been replaced by as good a man.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] He says (p. 229): “They never see the light of day, but work and
sleep all the year round in the depths of the earth, extracting silver
or quicksilver under the eyes of taskmasters, who have orders not to
spare them. Iron gates guarded by sentries close the lodes, or streets,
at the bottom of the shafts, and the miners are railed off from one
another in gangs of twenty. They sleep within recesses hewn out of the
rock--very kennels--into which they must creep on all fours.”

[2] According to the law of 1857 (Article 569), it appears that irons
are worn during the time a prisoner is in the lowest category (or
during probation time), after which they are continued as follows: for
one condemned for life, 8 years: from 15 to 20 years, 4 years: from 12
to 15 years, 2 years: from 6 to 8 years, 18 months; and from 4 to 6
years, 12 months.

[3] The number of “forçats” who, living free, ran away from Kara and
escaped the control of the authorities for 15 years preceding my visit,
is as follows: 1864, 327; 1865, 448; 1866, 369; 1867, 402; 1868, 354;
1869, 266; 1870, 483; 1871, 326; 1872, 368; 1873, 585; 1874, 321; 1875,
242; 1876, 175; 1877, 256; 1878, 194.

Thus it will be seen that in 1869 there ran away a smaller number
than in any preceding year, namely, 266, whereas in the following
year, 1870, there ran away 483. This great difference was accounted
for by the fact that up to 1869 the prisoners were under the
“administration of the mines,” and when they were passed over to the
new administration of the Minister of the Interior, this at first gave
much dissatisfaction. Again, in 1873, the number of escapes rose to the
highest, namely, 585, during which year it appeared the quantity of
provisions was lessened; whilst, on the other hand, in 1875, the number
of escapes being so low, less than in any preceding year, namely,
175, was accounted for by there having been in that year a building
committee, which gave wages to certain of the convicts for their work.
Up to 1st July of the year of my visit, 155 had escaped.

[4] After leaving Kara I heard that the number of political prisoners
to be transported there was considerably augmented; but I have it
on good authority that even then the number expected did not exceed
60. The most recent information I have received, since the Emperor’s
assassination, goes on to say that as Nertchinsk was made the special
place of deportation for the Poles after 1863, so Kara has been made
the special place for Nihilists; but I have no official information to
that effect.

[5] This gave a sick-list of 136 to a population of upwards of 2,000
exiles and 1,000 Cossacks; besides, I suppose, the surrounding
peasants. The number of convicts who died in the Kara hospitals from
1872 was as follows:--

1872 1873 1874 1875 1876 1877 1878
108 287 152 55 118 117 90,

and the number for 1879, up to the 1st July, was 65.

At Tiumen the number on the sick-list was 19 out of 1,113 prisoners
on the day of our visit. The number of sick prisoners, out of 20,711
passing through Tiumen in 1878, was 1,562, of whom 1,246 were cured,
280 died, and 44 remained in hospital.

[6] Thus the Government allowed him 4_s._ 6_d._ per sajen for 8,000
sajens of wood for fuel, which, instead of buying, he procured by
sending his unemployed miners into the forest to cut, giving them, to
their great satisfaction, a small payment, and effecting a saving of
1_s._ per sajen. A year’s economy, therefore, in wood brought him £400.
He found, too, by being his own timber-merchant, he could procure a
log from 20 ft. to 30 ft. long for 7½_d._, for which dealers would
have made him pay 2_s._ Then, again, the Government allowed him 7½_d._
per pood for 7,000 poods of hay, instead of buying which he sent his
prisoners into the neighbouring valleys to cut three times the normal
quantity. Part of this was for feeding the horses he had already, and
the rest for feeding others he added in order that he might be his own
carrier, and so save the contract for carriage.

[7] He paid each of the convicts, as perquisites, 4_d._ per sajen
for the wood they cut, increased their allowance, and if, at the end
of a job, all had gone well, he gave them each 1½_d._ a day extra.
This helped the poor fellows to get sundry little extras, especially
tobacco, which was encouraged; for the colonel, though he did not smoke
himself, yet had imbibed the notion that it was good for the health of
the prisoners.

[8] I understood at the time that these buildings had been erected
entirely out of savings; but I have since been told that, from 1877 to
1879 there was granted, for the erection of prisons in Nertchinsk, the
sum of £17,500, a part of which was destined for Kara.

[9] The house had cost £200; and he informed me that for another £100
he could put up a house for girls, of whom there were 20 about the
place, whose fathers were prisoners. About £4 10_s._ per year was
allowed by Government for each child, and to educate, clothe, and care
for them as the colonel was doing costs about £5 a year extra for each;
and this money he raised, I understood, among his friends.

[10] The Government determines how much gold is to be washed in the
season. In 1878 it was 25 poods, or 900 lbs. They told me that the
average they were finding for the season of 1879 was ¾ of a zolotnik
of gold to every 100 poods of sand, and that none of the mines about
Kara yield more than one zolotnik to the 100 poods; also that the
strata of gold sand are never more than seven feet, but usually less
in thickness. I have already stated in an earlier chapter, only
in different figures, that whilst 5 zolotniks to the 100 poods is
considered good, 1 zolotnik to the same quantity is poor. Hence it is
apparent that no private company would work the mines of Kara, and the
Government do so only to provide penal employment at a reduced cost
to the State. There are at Kara certain mines spoken of as belonging
to the Emperor’s private purse. When the convicts work in these,
the Minister of the Interior is paid for their labour according to
the amount of work they do. This I understood to be an economical
arrangement in favour of the Emperor.

[11] Unfortunately my Siberian statistics are not sufficiently complete
to allow a comparison between the _numbers_ of English and Russian
convicts. “O. K.” points out that since 1860, out of a population of
84,000,000, Russia has had on an average 20,000 criminals a year;
whilst England and Wales, out of little more than a quarter of that
population, has annually 12,000 criminal convictions. I am afraid that
it is not satisfactory to _compare_ these figures, because the 20,000
Russian criminals does not include, I presume, those left in prisons
west of the Urals, but only those sent to Siberia; and, again, 12,000
does not nearly cover the total number of criminals in England and
Wales. In the borough and county jails of England and Wales there was,
in 1878, a daily average of 19,818 prisoners, besides 10,208 in convict
prisons. I think, however, I am right in estimating that there is not a
daily average of 10,000 convicts in the _prisons_ of Siberia.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

_THE SHILKA._

Departure from Kara.--Parting hospitality.--Ust-Kara
police-master.--Head waters of the Shilka.--Collins’s descent
of Ingoda.--The Onon.--Formation of Shilka.--Scenery below
Stretinsk.--Shilkinsk.--Hospitality of police-master.--Non-arrival
of steamer.--Efforts at conversation.--Steaming down
the river.--Shilka scenery.--Tributaries from north and
south.--Arrival at confluence of Shilka and Argun.

My steamer was due at Ust-Kara on Sunday evening. It was arranged,
therefore, that my host should drive me to the river and see me off;
or, if the steamer did not come, then leave me to wait its arrival in
the house of the police-master. The colonel was pleased to say that he
regretted my departure. He seldom received visits of the kind I had
paid, which naturally had been more pleasant, he said, than inspection
visits of officials. He alluded, however, to a visit to Kara of the
Grand Duke Alexei-Alexeivitch as having done much good, and he was
desirous of gathering all the information he could respecting our
treatment of criminals in England.

The colonel’s farewell did not end in words, for, like a true Russian,
he made ample provision for his parting guest. Some Tunguses had
passed a few days previously, of whom he had bought a box, of native
manufacture, both curious and useful, and this he proceeded to fill
for me with the good things of Kara. These included roast chickens
and a piece of boiled ham. Preserves, too, my host had discovered that
I liked, and I must therefore take some pots of jam recently made.
Did I like cheese? Well--at home, half a pound would suffice me for
a twelvemonth; but in Siberia, where good butter was scarce, and a
cheese cost ten shillings, I had learned to regard it as a delicacy.
The colonel therefore insisted on my taking the greater part of a Dutch
bowler, and he regretted that he could not offer me the only piece he
had of what looked like Cheddar, because he was expecting a visit from
his Excellency the Governor of the province, and wanted a delicacy
to set before him. The extreme kindness with which this was done was
almost embarrassing. In England it would appear strange, but in the
district of the Amur these were presents not to be despised, for some
of them I could have otherwise obtained neither for love nor money.

At last we set out duly laden, intending to call on our way at the
prisons I had not yet seen. Packing, however, had taken rather long;
and when we came to the first prison, where the officer was standing
ready to receive us, I was afraid we should not have time, and that our
staying might involve the missing of the steamer. I therefore begged
that we might push on, which we did, to Ust-Kara. Here I looked over
various buildings, which have been already referred to, as the summer
hospital, with 93 patients, the women’s wards, and the wards for the
old and superannuated men, also the new cellular prison for politicals,
and a prison in which they manufacture various requisites for the use
of the convicts. In this last, five men wished to sing to us a piece of
Church music, which they did, and thus ended my visits to five of the
six prisons of Kara. Evening was now drawing on, and as the boat had
not come, I was consigned to the care of the police-master, and bade
adieu to Colonel Kononovitch with feelings of regret.

From Ust-Kara the steamer was to bear me to the Amur. This will be a
convenient place, therefore, from which to say something further about
the head waters of that river, namely, of the Ingoda and Onon, which
form the Shilka; and the Argun, which, with the Shilka, forms the Amur.

The Argun, Onon, and Ingoda all rise in the Kentai (or Khangai) and
Yablonoi mountains. From the summit of this latter range the traveller
approaching Chita from the west first sees the Ingoda at the foot of
the range. From Chita to Stretinsk the journey can be made by water,
and Mr. Collins, the first American traveller in this region, in 1858,
so accomplished it.[1] On the fourth day he passed the river Onon,
coming in from the south. This stream rises in the same district, but
somewhat further south than the Ingoda, and in its upper course its
banks are wooded. It is navigable all the summer.

By the union of the Ingoda with the Onon is formed the Shilka, and at
the junction the two rivers have each run a course of some 400 miles.
The stream now increases in breadth and slightly in depth, so that,
when not frozen, the river can be navigated at all seasons in small
boats, though with some risk from the numerous sandbanks and rapids.
About 40 miles below the Onon, the Nertcha enters from the north, and
here stands the old city of Nertchinsk, not far from which the floating
traveller passes the monastery of Nertchinsky, and subsequently arrives
at Stretinsk.

It was from this spot I commenced the descent of the Shilka with my
Cossack attendant. As we glided along, hour after hour, the shifting
scenes reminded one of some grand spectacle in a fairy tale, for bend
after bend, and point after point, opened to view landscapes and vistas
of surpassing beauty. Now and then we had to beware of rapids, and
in one place of a sunken rock called the “Devil’s Elbow.” The depth
sufficed for our boat, but we met a steamer coming up stream, whose
captain had a hard task to find and keep the channel.

Between Stretinsk and Shilkinsk the left bank is fairly populated,
most of the necessaries of life are easily attainable, and fish and
game are abundant. Granite predominates on both banks of the river as
far as the third station, Botti, beyond which limestone prevails. The
cliffs become lofty, some of them about 1,000 feet, and their summits
are riven into numerous picturesque turrets, while beneath are openings
leading into caverns. A few miles further the valley of the Shilka
opens out, and the rocks recede for a considerable distance till they
reach the valley of Tchalbu-tchenskoi, down the centre of which flows
the river Tchal-bu-tche.

On the space formed by the receding rocks stands Shilkinskoi Zavod, a
town stretching two miles along the river on a plateau 30 feet high.
This was the seat of an old convict silver-mining establishment, the
working of which has ceased long since.[2] The river here has a breadth
of 600 yards, with a current of four knots, and in the spring a depth
of seven feet on the shallows, but in the summer and autumn the depth
is much less.

On the second day we came in sight of a large house on the left bank,
where I landed, thinking perhaps to find some one to speak to. At the
various stations I had given tracts, and, in a small way, found a ready
sale for New Testaments. I offered the same at this large house, which
proved to be that of a doctor, but he was not at home. His wife was
in the house, but we had no language in common, and therefore my sale
had to be conducted here, as at the post-houses, by dumb motions, one
question about the hour being put and answered, I remember, by drawing
a clock and marking the hands. Ten miles further was Ust-Kara, whence
I digressed into a description of the headwaters of the Amur.

After bidding adieu to Colonel Kononovitch, on Sunday evening the 27th
July, I was waiting in the house of the police-master for the arrival
of the steamer. This worthy official was several degrees lower in
position and intelligence than my late host, but he had a good house,
and spared no pains to make me comfortable. He was living bachelor
fashion, his wife and daughters having gone on a tour to Irkutsk. This
he regretted, and so did I, for I was given to understand that they
spoke French; and it was not particularly lively to be in a house in
which you could speak a word to no one, especially with a host who
would insist upon talking, whether you understood or not. One hour
passed by, and two, and three, and the expected whistle was not heard,
till, night having fairly set in, my host made me understand that the
steamer had run aground.

It seemed best, therefore, to go to bed, hoping for its appearance in
the morning. A bed was made for me on the floor of the best room in the
house, but no washing apparatus provided. The maid was to be called in
the morning to do the part of a Levite, and pour water on my hands.
I was not, however, to retire supperless, and whilst food was being
prepared the police-master begged me to try his piano. Accordingly,
I strummed three tunes, which represent my stock-in-trade in this
department, and my host nodded satisfaction. At supper he rattled away,
and it was in vain that I shook my head and replied, “_Ne govoriu po
Russki_” (I do not speak Russ). He returned to the charge afresh, until
I was glad to retire.

Morning came, but not the steamer, and after breakfast I was writing,
when it occurred to me that if the steamer were aground, it might
be days or even weeks before it arrived, and at last I thought it
desirable to inquire for particulars. A military officer came in, but
I could extract from him no language I knew. Presently, however, the
police-master brought a piece of paper that gave me hope. It was a
polyglot letter to this effect: “Respected Sir, I should be glad to
be allowed to teach your children French, which language I know. Your
obedient servant, So-and-So.” And this was written in Russian, French,
German, and English, and, as a finale, was added, “Sic transit gloria
mundi.” I saw at once there was a genius in the place,--perhaps a
released exile, or the wife of one, and I requested my host by signs to
bring us together at once. But I think the said genius must have been
away, for the police-master was holding a discussion with the officer
as if there were some difficulty in the matter, when, as they were
talking, the steamer’s whistle was heard.

The effect was magical. I rushed to make ready. The carriage was
before the door in a very few minutes, and the police-master, who was
expecting his family by the boat, was speedily with me, my baggage on
the vehicle, and we dashed off to the station. Here I was introduced to
the wife and family, and also to a lady who I fancy was the authoress
of the polyglot paper,[3] after which I embarked.

The weather was beautiful, and we steamed down the lovely Shilka
150 miles to its junction with the Argun. The first station beyond
Ust-Kara was Ust-Chorney. Here the Chorney, or Black river, falls into
the Shilka by two channels. This river is so rapid, and sometimes
so violent, as to dash the passing boat or raft a wreck against the
opposite rock-bound shore. Further on the scenery changes on the south
side. Perpendicular cliffs of limestone appear with groups of birch
and larch on their tops, and in the small ravines. Over these rounded
summits appear, and a long chain of hills stretches southwards towards
the Argun.

The next station is Gorbitza, near the mouth of the Gorbitza river.
Until 1854 this was the boundary of the Russian and Chinese empires. At
Bogdoi, not far distant, is a mineral spring where annually a fair was
held, at which a few Russian merchants and Cossacks used to assemble to
meet the Manchu who came to barter. The Manchu ascended the Amur from
Aigun in large boats, bringing printed cotton goods, silk, tobacco,
and Chinese brandy, which they exchanged for glassware, soap, and
deer-horns.

Below Gorbitza the river enters a region where the cliffs rise
considerably higher than in the limestone. Here granite is heaved up
in huge masses, which time, frost, and sun have riven and shattered
into curious forms. Ravines are also rent far into the mountains, and
down them clear streams descend. A little further on the shores become
wooded, pine-trees grow along the banks, and on the upper slopes are
black and white birches, with occasional clumps of larch, while the
dwarf elm grows from the clefts in the rocks.

Mineral springs are frequently met with on the banks of the Shilka. To
some the natives resort. Further down are several islands, upon one of
which, named “Sable” island, are pine, larch, and birch. At the river
Bankova, having its source in the mining district near the Argun, and
falling into the Shilka from the south, there is another place where
a fair was held by the Cossacks of the Argun and the Tunguses of the
Yablonoi, the latter bringing skins, deer-horns, and a few sable and
fox skins. These they bartered with the Cossacks for flour, _vodka_,
powder, and lead. Further on, and not far from the confluence of the
Shilka and Argun, the Son-ghe-noi enters the Shilka to the south, and
at a short distance is a lake from which the natives and Cossacks
obtain their supplies of salt. A few miles below Son-ghe-noi are two
islands in the Shilka, and a little beyond these the sandstone rocks
rise abruptly in picturesque forms from the water. The rocks recede to
the southward, and a small delta has formed extending to the mouth of
the Argun. Near it is the village of Ust-Strelka,[4] or Arrow mouth,
situated at the junction of the two rivers which form the Amur, and
here I arrived on Wednesday evening, the 30th of July.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] The Russians at that time were engaged in the annexation of the
Amur territory, and the Governor, General Korsakoff, willingly lent
him aid. He embarked at Atalan, about eight miles below Chita, in a
flat-bottomed barge. Here the river is 200 yards wide, and the shores
are well timbered and mountainous. The river proved easy to navigate,
and Mr. Collins, his provisions, and 18 persons proceeded down the
stream at the rate of nearly five miles an hour. The country on the
third day became more open, with extensive high-rolling prairies, and
the banks of the stream afforded much beautiful scenery. On the 21st
May the forests were still leafless, though flowers were making their
appearance, and the willows were budding. The rocks of the river are in
many parts covered with mosses and a beautiful fern, and in sheltered
spots appears in summer the rhubarb plant.

[2] At Shilkinsk were built several of the barges for the first great
expedition on the Amur in 1854, and here the expedition was fitted
out with military stores and other necessaries. The Government had,
too, in the place a glass factory and a very large tan-yard, but I
have a suspicion that these factories were much more important in the
days when Messrs. Atkinson, Collins, and Ravenstein wrote, than a
quarter of a century later, at the time of my visit. Up to this point
at least I could hear of no factories in Siberia, other than those I
have mentioned. At Ekaterineburg there was a paper-mill, belonging to
Mr. Yates, at whose house I dined; and there were the soap and candle
works, near which I stayed, and where, through difficulty of getting a
sufficiency of fuel, they were burning wood and rubbish, and with the
gas produced therefrom, through a two-feet tube, were heating some of
the boilers.

[3] “Une sage femme,” she called herself, who had been acting in her
capacity as midwife, and had returned by the boat. Women alone, I
understand, act in this capacity in Russia,--a doctor being called in
only in case of difficulty.

[4] Here the Shilka ends its course of 700 miles, and is joined by the
Argun, after a course of 1,000 miles. The Argun proper rises among the
Nertchinsk ore mountains, at an elevation of from 2,000 to 3,000 feet,
and very near to the source of the Onon, the two streams running down
the northern and southern slopes respectively of the mountain-range.
The upper part of the Argun, however, rises as the Kerulen to the
south-east of Kiakhta, in the Kentai (or Khangai) mountains. For 550
miles the Kerulen traverses one of the most inhospitable tracts of the
Gobi. It then runs through the Dalai Nor or Lake, and flows into the
Argun proper, by which name the lower course of the river is known;
and then, after flowing 420 miles further, it joins the Shilka at
Ust-Strelka.

CHAPTER XXXIX.

_THE HISTORY OF THE AMUR._

Divisible into three periods.--Period of Cossack
plunder.--Poyarkof.--Khabarof.--Stepanof.--Discovery and
occupation of Shilka.--Chernigovsky.--Period of conflict with
Chinese.--Russo-Chinese treaty of 1686.--Russian mission at
Peking.--Affairs on the Amur during Russian exclusion.--Third
historic period from 1847.--Preparatory operations on Lower
Amur.--Muravieff’s descent of the river, 1854.--Influence of the
Crimean war.--Colonization of Lower Amur.--Further colonization,
1857.--Chinese protests.--Influence of Anglo-Chinese war.--The Sea
Coast erected into a Russian province.--Renewed difficulties with
China.--Treaty of 1860.--Review of Russian occupation.

The history of the Amur, or so much of it as need here be mentioned
in connection with the Russians, may be divided into three periods.
We have first the period of Cossack pillage and plunder of the native
tribes, beginning in 1636, and extending over a period of 50 years to
1682. This was followed in 1683 by a period of warfare with China,
lasting for half-a-dozen years, and succeeded by uninterrupted Chinese
possession for (roughly) 150 years, to 1848; after which comes the
period of Russian annexation, beginning in 1848, completed in 1860, and
continuing to the present day.[1]

I have already stated that, within about 20 years after the founding
of Yeneseisk, the Russians pushed on their conquests to the Sea of
Okhotsk, on the shores of which, in 1639, they built a winter station
for the collection of tribute. It was here first they heard from the
Tunguses of tribes to the south, dwelling along the Zeya and Shilka.[2]

These reports attracted attention in Yakutsk, and an expedition of 132
men, most of them _promyshlenie_, was placed under Poyarkof, who left
Yakutsk in 1643, ascended the river Aldan, and built winter quarters
for 40 of his men, and stores, in the mountains. Pushing on himself
with 92 men, he crossed the Stanovoi range, and, after suffering great
hardships, reached the head waters of the Zeya, where he met the first
reindeer Tunguses. Further on he came to a Daurian village, in which he
was kindly received, but his extortionate conduct provoked the natives
to hostility; and one of his officers, having attacked a village and
been repulsed, Poyarkof, with the loss of many Cossacks through hunger,
retired down the Zeya, descended the Amur to its mouth, and, crossing
the Sea of Okhotsk, reached Yakutsk in 1646.

The next prominent traveller was Khabarof, from 1647 to 1652. A
shorter route to the river had been heard of by way of the Olekma; and
Khabarof, at the head of a band of adventurers, took this route to
the Upper Amur. The natives, having heard of the conduct of Poyarkof,
fled before the Russians; and Khabarof marched on, slaughtering his
opponents, or putting them to flight. Strengthened by reinforcements,
he descended the river to the Lower Amur, wintered at Achansk (which
no longer exists), and was vainly attacked by the natives and the
Manchu. In the following spring he turned back, and ascended the
river to the Zeya, where some of his men mutinied. He sent messengers
to Yakutsk asking for 6,000 men, and, there being no such force in
Siberia, the _voivod_ dispatched the messengers to Moscow, where the
conquest of the Amur had been for some time under consideration.
Khabarof returned in 1652, and thus ended the first nine years of
Russian adventure on the Amur, during which some of the leaders had
shown great perseverance; but the natives had been badly treated,
exposed to all sorts of extortion, and their tilled lands reduced to
deserts.

We come now to Stepanof (1652-1661). Reports of the excesses committed
by the adventurers already mentioned had reached Moscow, and it was
determined to send a force of 3,000 men to occupy the newly-explored
territories. The command was given to Stepanof, and he was accompanied
by hundreds of adventurers, who were attracted by the reported riches
of the country. Stepanof was not able to carry out his instructions
to found settlements, and spent his time in roving along the Amur and
up the Sungari. At Kamarskoi he was besieged, in the spring of 1655
by a large Manchu force; but with a garrison of 500 men he put 10,000
foes to flight. Subsequently he was joined by Feodor Puschkin and
50 Cossacks, by whom he sent the tribute he had extorted to Moscow.
Puschkin’s party lost their way, and 41 of them perished. Stepanof
continued his predatory expeditions till 1658, when, at the mouth of
the Zeya, 180 of his men deserted, and he was met by a Manchu force,
and himself and nearly all his band slain or made prisoners. This for
a time practically cleared the Amur of the Russians, and what few
remained evacuated the district in 1661.

All the expeditions above mentioned reached the Amur from the
north-west, striking the river some miles below the confluence of the
Shilka, at what is now Ust-Strelka. We proceed to say a few words
respecting the discovery and occupation of that tributary, 1652-58.
Cossacks from Yeneseisk had pushed their explorations beyond the
Baikal, and, in consequence of their reports, Pashkof the Voivod, in
1652, sent out a party to cross the lake, under command of Beketof,
who, two years later, built a fort on the Nertcha; but the expedition
came to nothing. Other adventurers went out in 1654 and 1655. At length
Pashkof was entrusted with a force of 566 men to found a town on the
Shilka, whence the surrounding territories might be subjugated. He left
Yeneseisk in 1656, and on his way founded Nertchinsk. Whilst so doing,
he sent a number of his men down the Amur to look for Stepanof, but
they were met by his deserters, and robbed of their provisions, after
which, in 1662, Pashkof returned to Yeneseisk, his mission unattained.

What Government troops had failed to effect, however, was soon after
accomplished by a runaway exile--Nikitao Chernigovsky--who, at the head
of a lawless band, murdered the Voivod of Ilimsk, and in 1665 fled to
the banks of the Amur, where he built a fort on the site of Albaza’s
village, opposite the river Albazikha. He was joined by others as
lawless as himself; villages were founded near the fort, and Albazin
became a place of importance. A petition was forwarded to Moscow,
representing what had been done as done for the Tsar, and praying for
Chernigovsky’s pardon, in consideration of his recent services. It
was granted; and Chernigovsky made tributary many of the surrounding
tribes near Albazin. The Chinese complained of Russian encroachments,
and conciliatory embassies proceeded to Peking, in 1670 and 1675. The
people of Albazin, however, determined to do as they pleased, and, in
spite of orders to the contrary, they navigated the Lower Amur, and
founded settlements, so that at the close of 1682 the Russians had
established themselves at Albazin, on the Zeya, and on the Amgun.

This finishes the first period in the history of the Amur--that of
Cossack pillage and plunder.

The oppression of the Russians naturally caused the tribes on the Amur
to apply for help to their neighbours and nominal masters, the Chinese,
who made large preparations to expel the intruders. They destroyed the
Russian settlements on the Zeya and Amgun, took some of the garrisons
prisoners, and advanced upon Albazin in June 1685. After a blockade
of 18 days the garrison surrendered, and were allowed to retire to
Nertchinsk. The Chinese then destroyed the fort, and withdrew down
the river to Aigun; but the Russians followed in the wake of their
conquerors and rebuilt their town. The Chinese, therefore, returned
in July of the following year, again surrounded the fort, where the
Russians held out bravely till November, in which month the siege was
raised, in consequence of orders from the Chinese Government, to whom
the Russians had sent ambassadors desiring conditions of peace.

The ever-recurring complications with the Chinese made the Russian
Government desirous to come to some arrangement regarding the frontier
of the two empires. Venyukoff accordingly was sent on a mission to
Peking to arrange preliminaries, and he brought back with him a letter
in Chinese, Manchu, and Mongol, translated into Latin, which supplies a
good idea of Chinese views on the Amur question.[3]

If this letter be anything like a true statement of the case, which
there seems to be no just cause to doubt, then the moderation and
forbearance of the Chinese stands out in striking contrast to the
conduct of the Russians. I have described (Chapter XXXV.) how the
conference was conducted, and how it ended in a treaty, by which
Albazin and the whole of the Amur were confirmed to the Chinese.[4]

This settlement practically closed the district to Europeans for about
160 years--that is, till 1848. A few encroaching hunters were from
time to time caught and punished. Some convicts also escaped from the
mines of Nertchinsk to Chinese territory, and others went down the
whole length of the Amur, one of them getting away from Nikolaefsk to
America; but very little is known of the Amur basin during these years,
though Russia kept up the supply of priests who crossed the desert to
sustain the Russian mission at Peking.

After the treaty of Nertchinsk, the town of Aigun was removed to the
right or southern bank of the river, and in keeping with the jealous
policy of exclusion peculiar to the celestials, the Chinese were
forbidden to emigrate northward to the thinly-populated Manchuria, and
the Manchu were forbidden to pass northward of the town of San-sin on
the Sungari, whilst the privilege of trading on the Amur was restricted
to ten merchants, who obtained for that purpose a licence at Peking.
Besides these particulars of the Amur during the period of the Russian
exclusion, we learn something from the letters of Roman Catholic
missionaries in Manchuria, one of whom, M. De La Brunière, descended
the Amur to the country of the Gilyaks, where he was killed. But I
shall speak of this when I come to the people and place of his murder.
This finishes our second period--that of war with China. It remains to
treat of the recent history of the Amur, and of the annexation of all
its left and part of its right bank by Russia. This will bring before
us the events occurring between 1847 and 1861.

The recent history of the Amur may be said to date from the time that
Count Nicolas Muravieff became Governor of Eastern Siberia in 1847.
The Russians had long seen the desirability of acquiring the right
of navigating the Amur, if only for the purpose of sending down it
provisions for their settlements in Kamchatka, the land carriage of
which annually required 14,000 to 15,000 pack-horses. With a view
to this, they had sent Golovkin to Peking at the beginning of the
present century to treat for the free navigation of the river, or, at
all events, to gain permission to send a few ships once a year with
provisions. But the Chinese were unwilling to make any concession
whatever.

Muravieff became Governor of Eastern Siberia in 1848, and one of his
first acts was to send an officer with four Cossacks down the Amur, who
were never heard of again. Admiral Nevilskoi, in the same year, left
Cronstadt for the Pacific to explore the mouth of the Amur; and, in
1851, founded Nikolaefsk and Mariinsk as trading ports. Two years later
were founded Alexandrovsk, in Castries Bay; and other posts in the
island of Sakhalin at Aniva Bay and Dui.

The next year, 1854-5, was important in the history of the Amur, as
that in which the first Russian military expedition descended the river
from the Trans-Baikal provinces. Russia had at the time three frigates
in or near the Sea of Okhotsk, and, owing to the breaking out of the
Crimean War and the presence of an English fleet in the Pacific, it
was feared that these might be left in want of supplies, and that
the Russian settlements on the Pacific, which at that time depended
on shipments from home, might be seriously straitened. The Black Sea
and the Baltic were blockaded, and the only feasible plan was to send
provisions from Siberia down the Amur. The nearest Chinese authorities
at Kiakhta and Urga professed themselves unable to give permission; but
as no time was to be lost, Muravieff’s necessity knew no law, and he
started down the river.

He had a steamer, 50 barges, and numerous rafts, 1,000 men, and guns.
Several men of science, to whom we owe much of the solid information
given us by Mr. Ravenstein, accompanied him. His journey down the river
to Mariinsk was uneventful, and he returned by way of Ayan to Irkutsk.

The continuation of hostilities between Russia and the English and
French allies naturally made the Russians prepare for an attack on
their eastern settlements,[5] and considerable activity was displayed
by them on the Amur in 1855-6. Three more expeditions left Shilkinsk
in the course of the year, and conveyed down the river 3,000 soldiers
and 500 colonists, with cattle, horses, provisions, agricultural
implements, and military stores.[6] Accordingly, the places founded on
the river grew fast. Villages were built by the colonists at Irkutskoi,
Bogorodskoi, and Mikhailovsk. Great progress also was visible at
Nikolaefsk, which from a village of 10 houses grew to one of 150.

The operations of the allied fleets in the Pacific in 1855 were on a
larger scale than in the preceding year; but the results were equally
insignificant, and the peace of 1856 left the Russians free to carry
on their plans of annexation. General Muravieff now went to Petersburg
to advocate the granting of large means for colonizing the river, and
during his absence the direction of affairs was left in the hands of
General Korsakoff.[7]

But the year 1857-8 will ever be one of the most memorable in the
history of the river. Muravieff had succeeded at Petersburg in securing
large grants of men and money. Troops descended and formed numerous
stations along the left bank, and colonists and provisions were
conveyed to the possessions of the Russo-American Company. A Captain
Furruhelm conducted down the river 100 emigrants and 1,000 tons of
provisions, and with him travelled Mr. Collins, already referred to,
as “commercial agent of the United States for the Amur river.” Count
Putiatin, also bound on a mission to Japan and China, availed himself
of the newly-opened way. Putiatin received orders to induce the
Chinese to come to some definite arrangement regarding the frontier
of the Amur, but he was not successful. This result was felt on the
river; for the mandarins now again protested against the occupation
of the territory, and in some instances molested the Russian traders.
Accordingly, Muravieff hastened to Petersburg for fresh reinforcements,
and more troops were sent east; whilst the territory in dispute,
together with Kamchatka and the coast of the Okhotsk Sea, was erected
into a separate province, called “the Maritime province of Eastern
Siberia.” A squadron of seven screw steamers was dispatched from
Cronstadt in the summer, and two European-built steamers, the _Lena_
and the _Amur_, ascended the river with merchandise and troops.

When Muravieff got back to the Amur, in 1858, the Chinese were in a
very different humour, for they were then at war with the English and
French, and Russia found no difficulty in concluding an amicable treaty
at Aigun on 28th of May. China ceded to Russia the left bank of the
Amur down to the Ussuri, and both banks below that river, and opened
the Sungari and Ussuri to Russian merchants and travellers.

On the 21st May, Muravieff laid the foundation of Blagovestchensk,
at the mouth of the Zeya; he then descended the Amur, and founded
Khabarofka, at the mouth of the Ussuri, and subsequently selected the
site of Sophiisk; after which, in August, he was created “Count of
the Amur.” On the last day of the year this territory received a new
organization, and was divided into the “Maritime province of Eastern
Siberia,” and the “Amur province,” the latter denoting a district along
the river, above the mouth of the Ussuri.[8]

We now come to 1859-60, during which time several measures were taken
to favour colonization. Political exiles were to have passports granted
them for three years, to enable them to proceed to the east; and if
deserving, their term was to be extended permanently. The sailors
stationed at the Lower Amur were allowed to retire after 15 years’
service, received a plot of ground, and might send for their families
to come to them at the Government expense. The colonists, too, were
to be maintained by Government for two years, after which time they
were to provide for themselves. Government also renounced its monopoly
of the mineral treasures of Siberia; and in future any one, except
convicts, was to be allowed to search for precious stones or metals.
This attracted many emigrants, and on the arrival from Western Siberia
of 10,000 of them at Irkutsk, Cossack stations were founded along the
banks of the Ussuri and the Sungacha, with a view to the settlement of
the frontier.

Difficulties, however, with China again arose. The Chinese had repelled
the advance of the allied French and English forces in 1859, and, being
elated for the moment with the power of their arms, imagined that it
was no longer necessary to conciliate the Russians, and told them that
China had never ceded the Amur, that they had no right there, and
must immediately quit. Things, therefore, looked gloomy towards the
south;[9] but the relative positions of China and Russia were suddenly
transposed by the successes of the English and French, who thoroughly
humbled China; and Russia, availing herself of the opportunity, was
able to conclude, on the 14th of November, 1860, a most advantageous
treaty, much more comprehensive than any ever concluded by China with
a foreign power, which gave Russia a right to the country north of
the Amur and east of the Ussuri, together with the entire coast of
Manchuria, down to the frontiers of Corea.

I have thus traced the history of the Amur from the time that the
Russians first heard of the river, in 1639, down to 1860, when they
obtained possession of it.[10] It remains for me now to give the
reader, as best I can, an idea of the condition of things as I found
them at the time of my visit.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] I am specially indebted to Mr. Ravenstein’s excellent work, “The
Russians on the Amur,” for the substance of the following pages.

[2] This report, so far as the Shilka is concerned, was confirmed in
the same year by what a party of Cossacks heard, who had been sent from
Yeneseisk to the Vitim, about a prince of the Daurians named Lavkai,
who inhabited a stronghold at the mouth of the Urka rivulet, and whose
people kept cattle and tilled the soil.

[3] It was dated 20th November, 1686, and ran in part thus: “The
officers to whom I have entrusted the supervision of the sable hunt,
have frequently complained of the injury which the people of Siberia
do to our hunters on the Amur. My subjects have never provoked yours,
nor done them any injury; yet the people at Albazin, armed with cannon,
guns, and other firearms, have frequently attacked my people, who had
no firearms, and were peaceably hunting.

“They also roved about the Lower Amur, and troubled and injured the
small town of Genquen and other places. As soon as I heard of this I
ordered my officers to take up arms, and act as occasion might require.
They accordingly made prisoners some of the Russians who were roving
about the Lower Amur; no one was put to death, but all were provided
with food.

“When our people arrived before Albazin, and called upon it to
surrender, Alexei and others, without deigning a reply, treated us in
a hostile manner, and fired off muskets and cannon. We therefore took
possession of Albazin by force; but even then we did not put any one to
death. We liberated our prisoners, but more than 40 Russians, of their
own free choice, preferred remaining amongst my people. The others were
exhorted earnestly to return to their own side of the frontier, where
they might hunt at pleasure. My officers, however, had scarcely left,
when 460 Russians returned, rebuilt Albazin, killed our hunters, and
laid waste their fields; thus compelling my officers to have recourse
to arms again.

“Albazin consequently was beleagured a second time; but orders were
nevertheless given to spare the prisoners and restore them to their
own country. Since then, Venyukoff and others have arrived at Peking
to announce the approach of an ambassador, and to propose a friendly
conference to settle the boundary question, and induce the Chinese
to raise the siege of Albazin. On this a courier was sent at once to
Albazin to put a stop to further hostilities.”

[4] The treaty began as follows:--“In order to suppress the insolence
of certain scoundrels, who cross the frontier to hunt, plunder, and
kill, and who give rise to much trouble and disturbance, to determine
clearly and distinctly the boundaries between the empires of China and
Russia, and lastly to re-establish peace and good understanding for
the future, the following articles are by mutual consent agreed upon.”
After defining the boundaries, the treaty went on to provide that
hunters of either empire should under no pretence cross the frontier.
Also that neither party should receive fugitives or deserters; and the
third article states, “Everything which has occurred hitherto is to be
buried in eternal oblivion.”

[5] Their strength on the Amur at the time was very inconsiderable,
and the allies, having mustered their forces on the American coast,
came down upon a comparatively feeble folk in Siberia. Petropavlovsk in
Kamchatka was attacked, but the Russians managed to hold their own till
orders arrived from Petersburg to abandon the place, which they did
on 17th April, 1855, taking with them the inhabitants, with whom they
safely reached Castries Bay.

[6] The Chinese were either unwilling or unable to oppose the passage.
Up to this time no attempt had been made to found any settlement on
the Upper or Middle Amur, and the presence of the allied fleets in the
Pacific ostensibly justified the assembling of a force on the Lower
Amur. The Chinese did send to Nikolaefsk certain mandarins to treat;
but these not being of sufficient rank, Muravieff refused to receive
them.

[7] In the course of the 12 months 697 barges and rafts descended the
river, conveying 1,500 head of cattle, and the provisions required
by the forces on the Lower Amur. Cossack stations were built on the
Upper and Middle Amur, and another settlement made on the lower part
of the river. Postal communication by horses was established between
Nikolaefsk and Mariinsk, which until then had been carried on by dog
sledges. The Russian colonists agreed to supply the necessary horses
during winter at the rate of £22 a “pair,” and during the summer they
were to supply the steamers on the river with the requisite fuel.

[8] Admiral Kazakevich remained military governor of the Maritime
province, and resided at Nikolaefsk; and General Busse was appointed
military governor of the Amur, with a salary of £1000 a year, and
a residence at Blagovestchensk. Shortly after the ukase of the
31st December, the Cossack forces on the Amur received a separate
organization. Up to the end of 1858, 20,000 persons of both sexes had
been settled along the river, and these were to furnish two regiments
of cavalry and two battalions of infantry, as well as two battalions
of Ussuri infantry from the Maritime province. Commercial enterprise
was promised a fresh impulse by the foundation of the Amur Company, the
object of which was the development of trade on the river. It started
with a capital of £150,000, and was privileged to open establishments
on the Amur and Shilka, but proved unsuccessful, and after a few years
was dissolved.

[9] The newly-acquired territory, moreover, was not fulfilling the
anticipations of those who thought to find at once the country
turned into the granary of Siberia, and supplying with its produce
and manufactures the navies of the world. The Amur was a source of
continual expenditure, and the Cossacks were not proving the best of
colonists. To remedy this, German colonists had been sent for. My
old host, with whom I stayed at Vladivostock, Captain De Vries, was
to bring 40 German families from California, who were to be settled
at the mouth of the Bureya; but, as he told me, he found the thing
impracticable.

[10] At that date they had brought to the region about 40,000
colonists, most of them from the Trans-Baikal and Irkutsk governments,
who walked with their cattle to the Shilka, and then proceeded on huge
rafts, like floating farm-yards. The cattle were turned on shore to
feed at night, and marched back in the morning to travel by day. By
these means the banks of the river became populated, though scantily,
this region covering an area of 361,000 square miles, or twice as large
as that of Spain. The Russians, by 1861, had established military posts
along the whole course of the Amur, on the Ussuri, and at various
harbours on the sea-coast, the whole military force, up to 1859, being
about 15,000 men. Simultaneously while strengthening her forces on the
Amur, Russia reinforced her navy in the Pacific; and in 1860 she had
there 19 steamers, mounting 380 guns, and manned by between 4,000 and
5,000 sailors and marines. There were also, in 1861, 12 steamers on the
river, nine of which belonged to the Government.

CHAPTER XL.

_THE UPPER AMUR._

Formation of the Amur.--Chinese boundary.--Our steamer.--Captain and
passengers.--Natives of Upper Amur.--Orochons.--Manyargs.--Their
hunting year.--Our journey.--Run aground.--Table
provisions.--Scenery.--Albazin.--Cliff of Tsagayan.

We glided into the Amur about sunset on the 30th July, when, happening
to come on deck, I found the passengers gazing over the stern of the
vessel. Before us were the two rivers of which the Amur is formed.
To the right was the defile of the Shilka, to the left the Argun;
and between the streams the mountains narrowed, and came to a point
a mile above the meeting of the waters. On the tongue of land below
was the Russian village and Cossack post of Ust-Strelka. The soft
light of evening threw a charm over the well-wooded landscape. We
had, moreover, reached at last a point out of range of the ubiquitous
English traveller, and to which even comparatively few Russians make
their way from Europe. The Shilka we had travelled, and it was given to
us to peep a little way up the Argun, and remember that in its valley
the great Genghis Khan fought some of his early battles, and from hence
started to subdue China, and begin that wonderful career of Mongol
conquest that extended to Central Europe.

Looking to the north-east and down stream, the view was exceedingly
pretty. On the right, heavily-wooded mountains abut upon the river
for two miles, while on the left is a strip of bottom-land backed by
gentle slopes. To the front we see the river sparkling in the sun, and
rejoicing in its new and beautiful birth.

We were now fairly launched upon a river which, including its numerous
tributaries, is said to drain a territory of 766,000 square miles--an
area as large, that is, as any three countries of Europe except
Russia. The length of the stream from this point to the sea is 1,780
miles, with a fall of 2,000 feet; but if the Argun be regarded as
the main stream, then the total length of the Amur is 3,066 miles,
with a fall of 6,000 feet. It will be best, I think, to treat of so
huge a river in sections, seeing it passes through such varieties of
climate and population. The first section, extending from Ust-Strelka
to Blagovestchensk, at the mouth of the Zeya, we will call the Upper
Amur; from Blagovestchensk to Khabarofka, at the mouth of the Ussuri,
the Middle Amur; and from Khabarofka to the Pacific at Nikolaefsk, the
Lower Amur. The Russians have made a fine atlas, in 46 sheets, of the
river below the confluence of the Shilka and Argun.

Up to the point we had now reached, Russian territory lay on both
sides. Henceforth to Khabarofka we were to have Chinese soil on the
right. The boundary then descends along the bank of the Ussuri, and
continues in a tolerably straight line southwards through Lake Khanka
to the Bay of Peter the Great, in the Sea of Japan. My intention was,
therefore, roughly speaking, to keep along this boundary, and embark
for Yokohama.

But I have said nothing as yet of the steamer in which the first part
of my journey was to be accomplished, namely, from Kara to Khabarofka,
a distance of 1,270 miles. It was a paddle-boat called the _Zeya_.
As I walked on board at Ust-Kara, Captain Paskevitch met me, told me
in French that my cabin was not quite ready, and asked me to occupy
meanwhile his room on deck. He had heard of my mission from Colonel
Merkasin, at Stretinsk, and had most kindly set apart for me, on a full
steamer, a first-class cabin intended for two persons. This he reserved
so tenaciously as to refuse a first-class place to a passenger rather
than cause inconvenience by giving me a companion, though I was asked
to pay only a single fare.

As compared with the steamer on which I traversed the Obi, the _Zeya_
was small, and it was not new. There were first and second-class cabins
fore and aft, but third-class passengers lived on deck. All three
grades were well represented. Among the first-class passengers was M.
Kokcharoff, a Government officer connected with the gold-mines, whom
we had met at Nertchinsk at dinner, and who was the father of one of
the young officers we saw at Irkutsk. There were also an officer and
his wife whom we had seen on the road at Verchne Udinsk. Among the
second-class passengers were several naval and military officers,
proceeding to their stations on the Pacific, and with them the lady and
gentleman of whom we got the start with the horses from the Baikal.
Several of the ladies spoke French, and a naval captain, Baron de
Fitingoff, spoke a little English also. Thus I needed not to be silent,
and soon found myself at home.

It speedily became manifest that our captain was a man of
determination, and that he had a rough-and-ready way of enforcing
his orders. The cook, an oily-looking man, had smuggled _vodka_ on
board, and made himself so far drunk as to spoil the passengers’
dinner; whereupon the captain seized him and tied him to the capstan.
He had not been there long, however, before the capstan was required
for some one else. The ship had got into difficulties, the number of
the crew being insufficient for the occasion; and the captain ordered
a man-of-war’s-man, travelling as a third-class passenger, to lend a
hand. He did not choose to do so, whereupon the captain collared him,
and, having released the cook, bound him to the capstan. Our chief, I
found, was only a young man--less than 25--and had served for a time in
the Imperial navy. He had fallen in love, and wished to marry before
the age allowed in the service. Just then the Amur Company made him
a good offer to take charge of one of their vessels, and he had thus
left the Government service, and accepted a stipend which enabled him
to forsake a bachelor’s life. He thought, however, that in giving up
the navy he had made a mistake, and sent his papers by some of our
passengers to be presented to the Governor at Vladivostock, asking to
return.

As we proceeded we found the population on the Chinese bank was
exceedingly small, and but few houses appeared on the Russian side.
The natives of the Upper and Middle Amur belong, all of them, to
the Tungusian stock, though they differ somewhat among themselves,
according to the manner of life they pursue, and their nearness or
otherwise to Chinese influence. Thus, on the Upper Amur, on the Russian
territory, are the Orochons, or reindeer Tunguses; whilst further
east, north of the Middle Amur, are their brethren the Manyargs,
or horse Tunguses. On the southern bank of the Upper Amur are the
Daurians, who to some extent cultivate the soil; whilst further east,
and to the south of the Middle Amur, is the region of the Manchu, the
most civilized of all the Tunguse tribes. This division is somewhat
arbitrary, and does not notice subdivisions of some of the tribes;
but it may suffice for the present to indicate their territories, and
we can enter into further particulars as we approach their respective
localities.

The Orochons numbered, in 1856, 206 individuals of both sexes, roving
over an area of 28,000 square miles--a country, that is, as large
as Bavaria or the island of Sardinia. They originally lived in the
province of Yakutsk, whence they emigrated to the banks of the Amur in
1825, and occupied a part of the territory of the Manyargs, whom they
compelled to withdraw farther down the river.[1]

The Manyargs occupy the north bank of the Middle Amur below the
Orochons, but in summer they ascend the river for the purpose of
fishing. As the needs of the reindeer drive the Orochons to the moss
tracts of the mountains, so the needs of the horses send the Manyargs
to the grassy valleys of the Zeya, and to the prairie region eastwards
to the Bureya mountains.

Apart, however, from their differences as to habitation, and the
domestic animals they use (the Orochons keeping deer and the Manyargs
horses), we may speak of the Orochons and Manyargs together. In
appearance they are rather small, and of a spare build. Their arms and
legs are thin, the face flat, but the nose, in many instances, is large
and pointed. The cheeks are broad, the mouth large, the eyes small
and sleepy-looking. The hair is black and smooth, the beard short,
and the eyebrows very thin. Old men allow the beard and moustache to
grow, but carefully pull out the whiskers. They cut the hair short on
the forehead and temples, and plait it behind into a tail, ornamented
with ribbons and leather straps. This fashion was no doubt copied from
the Manchu, but since they have come under Russian influence it has
gradually waned. In the case of the women the hair is parted down the
middle, the plaits are worn round the head, and fastened with ribbons
above the forehead. During summer the women wear a conical hat made of
cotton, somewhat like an extinguisher. Unmarried girls are recognized
by their head-band, embroidered with beads.

The Orochons and Manyargs lead a wandering life. In spring and summer
they live on the banks of the river to fish; in autumn they retire to
the interior to hunt. In these migrations the deer or the horses carry
the scanty property of their owners. The horses are small but strong,
of great endurance, and find food in winter by scraping away the snow
with their feet.

[Illustration: REINDEER TUNGUSES WITH BIRCH-BARK TENT.]

Wild animals in the region of the Upper and Middle Amur are
numerous. The Orochons disperse in small parties to hunt them,
returning from time to time to their yourts.[2] They hunt squirrels,
sables, reindeer, elks, foxes, and sometimes bears. Squirrels they
find in great numbers. A good sportsman may kill 1,000 in a season,
and 500 is an average bag.[3] In December they take their furs to the
localities fixed upon for paying the _yassak_, or tax, where also they
barter with merchants assembled for that purpose. Each male between the
ages of 15 and 50 pays annually two silver roubles, or their equivalent
in furs. No other taxes are levied upon them, and this brings in to
the Government an enormous quantity of skins.

My journey on the Upper Amur, or, more accurately, from Ust-Kara to
Blagovestchensk, occupied eight days. The distance was 700 miles, and
the first-class fare three guineas. Under ordinary circumstances,
however, the time ought not to have been so long, but there was less
water in the river, the captain said, than he had ever known before. It
was by reason of this that the boat had run aground at Shilkinsk on the
Sunday I was to have started, and on Monday evening a sister-boat, the
_Ingoda_, having done the same, and knocked three holes in her hull,
the _Zeya_ had stayed alongside to render assistance. This caused the
loss to us of the whole of Tuesday. Both boats belonged to the same
company, and it was an act of policy, as well as kindness, that the
damaged boat should not be left in so lonely a region, whilst a further
reason for submitting to the delay, and keeping the boats together, was
that our own vessel might run aground and so need assistance from the
_Ingoda_.

I was curious to hear from the captain what was the thickness of iron
on the _Zeya_, and what distance we should have to sink, supposing we
went to the bottom. The iron, I learned, was three-sixteenths of an
inch thick, which was somewhat alarming, but it was a comfort to know
that the water in some parts of the river was not much more than 30
inches deep. Our steamer drew only two feet and a half, consequently
we were often gliding along within a few inches of the ground. One of
the crew was placed in the bow of the boat, holding a measuring rod,
with the feet marked in black and white, and secured to a string. This
in shallow places he constantly threw, as if harpooning fish, and
then noticing the depth when it struck the bottom, he called out in a
sing-song fashion, “_Chetiri-s’polovenoi! chetiri! tri-s’polovenoi!
tri!_”--four-and-a-half! four! three-and-a-half! three! and so on; the
speed of the vessel being slackened when the small numbers were called.

After reaching the Amur on Wednesday, we travelled safely for that
evening and on Thursday, but on Friday morning, coming to a turn in
the channel, the boat ran aground on a bank, with her whole length
turned sideways to the current--going at the rate of about four miles
an hour. The shallowness of the stream now became apparent, for when
the men jumped overboard the water rose hardly up to their waists.[4]
Every effort was made to float the craft with anchors and levers,
and digging away the beach, until, as evening came on and brought
no success, we hoped the _Ingoda_ would overtake us and return the
compliment of rendering assistance, especially as we had once put back
to look after her welfare. The _Ingoda_ did come, but was not powerful
enough to get us off, and we had therefore to lie aground till Saturday
morning. The greater part of the passengers were then shifted from the
_Zeya_ to the _Ingoda_, and there they were compelled to remain from
breakfast-time till evening, and that, too, with very little food, for
the _Ingoda_ was not carrying passengers, and so was not provisioned.
Whilst this shifting was going on, I was in my cabin writing, and so
had not to change. Meanwhile the sailors had hard work, for they were
in the water nearly all day. About two o’clock, however, the _Zeya_ was
once more afloat, after which it took three or four hours to get up
the anchors, and then, for the rest of our journey, we had no lack of
water. The boat did not usually travel at night.

These delays had put a considerable strain on the resources of our
cook, whose arrangements were not of a high order. I had rather
anticipated this; and, having become so accustomed to see Russians
travelling with their own provisions, had prepared accordingly.
Some loaves of white bread had been brought for me by the ship from
Stretinsk, and fresh butter; besides which, Colonel Kononovitch, as
already stated, had loaded me with good things, and I had not parted
with my provision basket and its cooking apparatus.[5]

They had different arrangements on the Amur from those we had on the
Obi. The steward undertook to provide every one with four meals a
day. The first was tea and bread on getting up. Next, about 11 a.m.,
came “_déjeuner à la fourchette_,” consisting of two courses. At five
o’clock came bread and tea again, and dinner, of three or four courses,
followed at seven. The provisions were decidedly inferior to those
of the Obi, but acquaintance with certain Russian dishes was thereby
forced upon me, which I might otherwise not have known. One of them was
“_gretchnevaya kasha_,” or buckwheat gruel, with melted butter like oil
poured over it. I imagined it might be given us as a last resource,
all other provisions having failed; but the passengers seemed to think
it good though humble fare, and said it was what they provide largely
for the soldiers. It is a daily dish, I am told, among peasants and
servants in Russia. Further on we bought and slaughtered an ox. And as
we approached Blagovestchensk, our table improved to clear soup, with
minced patties, meat from the joint, and stewed fruit.

The service, too, was inferior to that on the Obi, for on the Amur the
steward was represented by a couple of boys, not too tidily dressed,
and with rough heads, who knew more of play than of waiting. It should
be added, however, that the price charged for the four meals a day
was not exorbitant, namely, three shillings; and after having the
samovar frequently into my own cabin, and other extras, though to a
considerable extent providing myself, my steward’s bill for the eight
days came only to 17 shillings.

We were highly favoured in the weather, which, with the exception of
one day, was fine, and added much to the enjoyment of the journey.
Between Stretinsk and Blagovestchensk were 42 stations. Many of them
were named after the Russian officers who took part in the annexation
of the country, such as Orloff, Beketoff, Korsakoff, etc.

At Ust-Strelka the river is 1,100 yards wide, and sometimes 10 feet
deep. At Albazin, 160 miles lower, it contracts to 500 yards, but
increases to 20 feet in depth. After leaving the Shilka, the scenery
of the Amur at first deteriorated. Soon, however, the river stretched
across the valley, and the banks rose in precipitous cliffs, or steep
rocky slopes. Many brooks entered the stream on both banks. When rain
falls on the mountains, the river rises sometimes 12 feet and more in
the course of a few days, the greatest rise being 24 feet. Our captain
of the _Zeya_ was hoping that the Thursday’s rain would thus aid him in
getting out of the shallows. Five streams join the Amur on the Russian
side, between Ust-Strelka and Albazin, of which the Amazar is the
first and most considerable. At their mouths are small alluvial plains
overgrown with grass, sometimes 18 inches high, though on higher spots
in this district the herbage is not luxuriant.

Below the Amazar the banks were alternately rocky bluffs and wooded
bottoms, the river sweeping along in great picturesque bends. At
Sverbeef the river increases in breadth. The mountains are not so high,
and sandbanks are frequent. These appear at low water as islands. The
forests are thin, and there is little underwood. On the mountains
larch and firs prevail. In the valleys the white birch predominates,
with bird-cherry and aspen. The trees, however, are small; and among
them, further on, are apple-trees with tiny fruit, willows, and the
hoar-leaved alder.[6]

On the rocky mountain slopes are the service-tree, alder, aspen,
poplar, and hawthorn, together with the Daurian rhododendron. On loose
soil Indian wormwood frequently covers a whole mountain slope.

As we approached Albazin the mountains retired, and below them were
extensive prairies, affording excellent pasturage. Opposite the town,
on the Chinese bank, the Albazikha, or Emuri, falls into the Amur
behind a large island, with an area of several thousand acres. Oaks and
black birch now begin to take the place of the larch, and at the foot
of the mountains are seen elms, ashes, hazels, willows, the Daurian
buckthorn, wild roses, and bird-cherries--the last sometimes reaching
to a height of 50 feet.

Albazin is the most important of the towns we passed between
Ust-Strelka and Blagovestchensk. It is finely situated on a plateau
50 feet high, and extends some distance backwards to the mountains.
We arrived there early on Friday morning, August 1st. Albazin was
important to the early adventurers, by reason of the fine sables taken
in its vicinity.[7]

The Albazin sable is said to be the best on the Amur, that of the
Bureya Mountains next, and, thirdly, that of Blagovestchensk; but none
of them are so good as those obtained further north.

I was much struck, below the town, with the brilliant red of the
sandstone cliffs. On the right bank the mountains approach again close
to the river; but on the left the plain continues for 70 miles, ending
in a rock or promontory, called _Malaya Nadejda_, or Little Hope.
This lofty mass of rock projects into the river in the shape of a
semicircular tower. After passing the station Tolbuzin, 240 miles from
Ust-Strelka, the river takes a more southerly direction, and lower down
has numerous islands. These are covered with poplar, ash, and willow;
and among the flowers are seen the rhododendron, the lily of the
valley, pink, primrose, violet, white poppy, forget-me-not, and white
pæony; also garlic, chickweed, asparagus, cinquefoil, and thyme.

A few miles lower is a remarkably steep sandstone cliff, of yellowish
grey colour, bounding one of the reaches of the river for a distance of
three miles. It is called Tsagayan, and is 302 miles from Ust-Strelka.
It is about 250 feet high, and has in it two seams of coal, of which
there is said to be plenty on the Amur, though it has not been worked,
I believe, owing to the abundance of wood. The natives look upon
Tsagayan as the abode of evil spirits. At its foot are found agates,
carnelians, and chalcedonies.

Beyond the Tsagayan the valleys descending to the river are wider, the
steep mountains recede, and the meadows are richer in grass. Small
groves of poplars, elms, ashes, and wild apples alternate with bushes
of red-berried elder, sand willows, self-heal, and wild briar. At the
station Kazakevich, however, the mountains approach the river, and a
dark granite rock, 300 feet high, overhangs the water. Eight miles
south is the rock Korsakoff, a promontory of semicircular shape; and
40 miles more bring the traveller to the mouth of the Komar, which is
the second considerable stream flowing into the Amur from the right
bank after leaving Albazin, the other being the Panza. The course of
the Amur here becomes very tortuous, and, about 50 miles below, the
Komar almost describes a circle, leaving but a neck of land half a mile
in width. The Komar is the greatest affluent of the Upper Amur from
the Chinese side. It is a little short of 600 miles in length, more
than one-half of which is navigable. The upper part of the valley is
populated by Daurians.

Travelling thus amidst beautiful scenery, we reached Blagovestchensk on
the eighth day, being now 560 miles from Ust-Strelka, and the width of
the river having considerably increased. Here, however, we may leave
the water for awhile, for the steamer stayed a whole day, and thus gave
me the opportunity of spending some hours ashore.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] There are two tribes of them, one called Ninagai, which, in 1856,
mustered 68 males and 66 females; 27 of the males paid annually 5_s._
5_d._ of tribute each, or instead thereof 12 squirrel skins, to the
Russian officer commanding the post at Gorbitza. The other tribe, the
Shologon, numbered 72, including 40 females, of whom 17 had to pay
to the commandant of Ust-Strelka a tribute of 6_s._ 4_d._ each. They
owned 82 reindeer. There is also a tribe along the sea coast, called
Orochons, or Orochi, amongst whom it is customary for women to suckle
their children till they are three or four years old. The men are
recognized by their wide-brimmed hats. I saw one of them in prison at
Nikolaefsk, and was struck with his manly bearing. This agrees with
what Mr. Ravenstein says of the Orochons of the Upper Amur, that they
are not so submissive as the Manyargs, whose spirits have been broken
by the oppression of the Mandarins.

[2] These yourts, or tents, are easily built and quickly removed. About
20 poles are stuck into the ground, to form a circle from 10 to 14 feet
in diameter, and are tied about 10 feet above the centre. The frame is
covered with birch bark, and overlaid with skins of reindeer and moose.
An opening is left in front to serve as a door, and a hole in the top
for the chimney. During winter the door is closed by furs or skins. In
case of temporary removal, the skins and bark are taken away, and the
poles are left standing.

[3] Mr. Ravenstein gives, from Russian sources, an interesting account
of the manner in which these natives spend their hunting year. In
March they go on snow-shoes over snow, into which, at that season,
cloven-footed animals sink, and shoot elks, roe, and musk deer, wild
deer and goats; the tent being fixed in valleys and defiles, where the
snow lies deepest. In April the ice on the rivers begins to move, and
the huntsman, now turned fisher, hastens to the small rivulets to net
his fish. Those not required for immediate use are dried against the
next month, which is one of the least plentiful in the year. In May
they shoot deer and other game, which they have decoyed to certain
spots by burning down the high grass in the valleys, so that the young
sprouts may attract the deer and goats. June supplies the hunter with
antlers of the roe. These they sell at a high price to the Chinese for
medicinal purposes. The Chinese merchants come north in this month,
bringing tea, tobacco, salt, powder, lead, grain, butter, and so forth,
so that a successful huntsman is then able to provide himself with
necessaries for half the year. In July the natives spend a large part
of the month catching fish, taken with nets or speared with harpoons.
They are able also to spear the elk, which likes a water-plant growing
in the lakes. He comes down at night, wades into the water, and, whilst
engaged in tearing at the plant with his teeth, is killed by the
huntsman. In August they catch birds, speared at night in the retired
creeks and bays of the river and lakes. Their flesh, except that of the
swan, is eaten, and the down is exchanged for ear and finger rings,
bracelets, beads, and the like. Thus they spend the summer months,
afterwards retiring again to the mountains for game. In the beginning
of September they prepare for winter pursuits. The leaves are falling,
and it is the season when the roebuck and the doe are courting. The
natives avail themselves of this, and, by cleverly imitating the call
of the doe on a wooden horn, entice the buck near enough to shoot him.
Generally speaking, this is the plentiful season of the year, so far as
flesh is concerned; but, should the hunters not be fortunate, they live
upon service-berries and bilberries, which they mix with reindeer milk.
They also eat the nuts of the Manchu cedar and of the dwarf-like Cembra
pine. The latter part of September and beginning of October are again
employed in fishing, for the fish then ascend the river to spawn. About
the middle of October begins the hunting of fur-bearing animals, the
most profitable of all game; and this goes on till the end of the year.

[4] For steamers to run aground in the Volga is so common a thing
that the captains take a number of third-class passengers free, on
the understanding that, if the ship gets on a bank, they shall jump
overboard and endeavour to get her off. Bold captains there, moreover,
have a plan, when coming to a shallow place, of putting on steam, in
the hope that the impetus and extra commotion made in the water by
the paddles may tide them over the difficulty. The banks of the Volga
being of mud, such experiments are not very dangerous, but our boat had
grounded upon stones.

[5] After having taken with me my cuisine several times, I am
disposed briefly to advise any who may care to be counselled, by
saying “don’t.” It certainly does not pay in Russia, for hot water
may almost everywhere be had, and the people well understand the
speedy preparation of the samovar. A lunch basket, however, is a great
comfort, and I should not think of taking a long journey without one.
The cuisine may occasionally be needed; but in going round the globe I
used it only once, and when travelling last year over the Caucasus to
Armenia not at all.

[6] The white birch is the most important. In spring the natives peel
off the bark in strips from two to four yards in length. The coarse
outside of the bark, and the ligneous layers on the inside, are scraped
off. It is then rolled up, and softened by steam, which makes it
pliable. Several of these are sewn together, and supply the native with
a waterproof blanket or mat, forming a wind screen in winter, and a
covering for the hut in summer. The bark thus prepared is used also for
wrapping merchandise, making small canoes, baskets, platters, cups, and
household utensils.

[7] Albazin, as already stated, is noted in Siberian annals for the
sieges it stood, and one of the Russian stories connected therewith is,
that when the garrison was greatly distressed for food, Chernigoffsky
sent a pie, weighing 40 or 50 lbs., to the Chinese commander, to
convince him that the fort was well provisioned. This present was so
well appreciated, that the Chinaman sent for more, but in vain. History
does not say whether the pie was of beef, mutton, pork, or puppies!
The remains of walls, moats, ditches, and mounds, showing the site and
extent of the town, may still be traced; and, by digging, the curious
may still find there bricks, shreds of pottery, arms, etc. In Maack’s
celebrated work on the Amur, his plan represents Albazin as a square of
240 feet, and the Chinese camp as a parallelogram of 670 feet long and
140 wide. The Amur measures here 580 yards wide.

CHAPTER XLI.

_BLAGOVESTCHENSK._

Russian orthodox missions.--Particulars of Orthodox Missionary
Society.--Visit to telegraph station.--Seminary for training
priests.--Salaries of Russian clergy.--Blagovestchensk
prison.--Leafy barracks.--View of the town.--Molokan inhabitants.

“Blagovestchensk,”--I hope that the tongue of the reader curls round
the syllables of this word more easily than did mine on the first
occasion I attempted to pronounce it. The _g_ should be guttural,
and the first _e_ like the French _é_. The meaning of the name is
“Annunciation,” or, as some put it, “glad tidings.” I know not whether
this has anything to do with the fact that Blagovestchensk is the
head-quarters of Oriental Siberian missionary effort, about which it
will here be a rest to say a few words by way of change from the waters
of the river.

As Russia ranges under her standards many nations, so she is brought
into contact with many religions; with Lutheranism in the Baltic
provinces and Finland, Buddhism in Mongolia, Mohammedanism along her
southern frontier, Paganism in the Caucasus and Armenia, and, we may
add, Shamanism and other ’_isms_ among the aboriginal inhabitants of
both her European and Asiatic territories. The Russians have long made
persistent efforts to win back their own dissenters, whether from the
various bodies of Raskolniks, or the Uniats, which latter were seduced
from them by the Church of Rome.[1] Besides this reclaiming work of
her own people, foreign missionaries were, in the time of Alexander
I., allowed to work among the heathen within the empire, and I have
already noticed the London mission to the Buriats. The Synod, however,
put a stop to this foreign work; and that their jealousy in this matter
continues, I learnt from a Lutheran pastor, who, when he was taking up
his residence near some of the native tribes, was bidden “not to busy
himself as a missionary.”

Compared with the Western Churches, whether Roman or Reformed, the
Eastern Church has never been remarkable for missionary zeal, and I
was therefore not a little surprised and pleased in Siberia to stumble
unexpectedly upon the latest report (for 1876) of the “Orthodox
Missionary Society,” published at Moscow the year before my visit. The
book is of respectable size, extends to 100 pages, and the statistics
are displayed with considerable fulness. At present it is with the
Russians only the day of small things; but it should be borne in mind
that 1876 was only the seventh year of the Society’s existence.

Some particulars of this young Society will be interesting, the more
so as I am able to supplement what I learned in Siberia by extracts
from the report for 1879, quoted in the _Journal de St. Petersbourg_,
September 7th, 1881. The Society has a central council, and branches in
29 dioceses, with 7,560 members, which means, I suppose, subscribers.
Its capital in 1879 amounted to 660,000 roubles, of which 121,000 were
spent during the year.[2] Among the remittances sent to the central
council from associations is £77 from “the army and navy.” Again,
there appears what I imagine to be a special fund for “propagating the
orthodox faith among the heathen.” This is apart from their efforts
among Mohammedans and Romanists; but the Russian Church has missions to
the adherents of all religions within her empire, except Protestants.

As for the spending of the money, it appears that the council and 27
associations distributed, among 19 missions, funds to the amount of
£11,580. The 21 mission stations are, with one exception, within the
bounds of the empire. The other mission, to which I have alluded in
a previous chapter, is in Japan. I heard at Kasan that they have a
missionary also in Jerusalem, New York, and San Francisco; but these, I
presume, are chaplains. Their chief European pagan missions are in the
governments of Astrakhan, Riazan, Perm, and Kasan, in which last are
several semi-heathen tribes.[3]

It is in Asiatic Russia, however, that most of the Society’s money is
expended, and the conversion of 5,000 Pagans is reported to have taken
place in 1879. They have opened a school among the Samoyedes. They
have also missions in Kamchatka (including probably, the Sea-coast
province), upon which, in 1876, they expended £300, and from whence
the following year, according to the Almanack, they obtained 606
converts. The provinces, however, in which most money is spent are
those of Tomsk, Irkutsk, and the Trans-Baikal. In the latter two are
the Buriats, amongst whom the Russians have 30 mission stations and
68 missionaries.[4] The province of Tomsk includes the region of the
western chain of the Altai mountains, where schools and missions have
been established for the Kirghese of the Steppes. In the Altai mission,
during the first half of the year 1877, they enrolled 195 converts.
Further east they have missionaries, some of whom I met, among the
Goldi and Gilyaks; but I shall speak of them when we come to their
districts. At Blagovestchensk lives the Bishop of the diocese, who had
been described to me as “a good missionary.”

We stopped at Blagovestchensk on Tuesday, August 5th, and I made my
way to the telegraph station, where, as in other towns, thanks to
good introductions, I received much kindness from the officials. When
travelling to Barnaul, I chanced to light on a telegraph officer,
Mr. Friis, whose name was on my list, and he told me of a brother
officer in Tomsk who spoke English. At Irkutsk Mr. Larsen gave
considerable linguistic help; so did Mr. Koch at Stretinsk; and now,
at Blagovestchensk, I found a Mr. Niellsen, who had worked in London,
and spoke English; and Mr. Peko, who spoke French and English too. Mr.
Peko, I found, was the director of this station of first rank.[5] When
dining with the manager, Mr. Peko, and Mr. Niellsen, in the garden, I
was interested to hear, among other scraps of professional information,
that English is the best of languages for telegraphy, for that in it
they can express more in few words than in any other. The Russians,
they said, prefer to use English rather than their own language for
telegrams. My nationality was further flattered in the town by a
doctor’s wife telling me that to speak English was now in Siberia
and Russia more fashionable than to speak French. Said she, “_On peut
oublier maintenant le Français pour apprendre l’Anglais._”

Blagovestchensk has a seminary for the training of priests, similar to
those established in Russia by Peter the Great. He found his clergy
exceedingly ignorant, and established these institutions for their
sons, enjoining the bishops to support them with a twentieth part of
the income from the monasteries. In these establishments, and others
which have been added, are educated the rank and file of the Russian
clergy.[6]

I did not once meet in Russia with a priest who could speak French,
German, or English. Perhaps they throw their strength into patristic
and ecclesiastical learning, since the parochial clergy are usually
said to be not well instructed in secular studies. An instance was
given me by an Englishman, who travelled in Siberia with a Russian
archbishop, who one day asked the Englishman which had the greater
population, London or San Francisco. Whereupon my wicked friend said,
“Well, you see, London has a population of two hundred thousand,
and San Francisco four millions.” “Ah!” said the archbishop with
satisfaction, “I thought so; I thought San Francisco was the larger!”

Those students who wish to attain to the higher degrees of learning, on
leaving the seminary, proceed to one of the ecclesiastical academies
which correspond to our universities, and where they can take the
degrees of student, candidate, master, and doctor of theology. There
is no theological faculty in the Russian universities, but it is now
required that all who are to be consecrated bishops shall have passed
through the academy.

To return, however, to the seminary: the students enter at the age
of eight, and remain normally till twenty-two, when they receive a
diploma, which is accepted by the bishop, and the candidate without
further examination is ordained.

The case of one of these students presented a curious instance of the
working of the inconsistent requirement of the Russian Church, that the
parochial clergy at the time of their ordination _must_ be married. “Do
you see that boy running about on the deck?” said a fellow-passenger
to me, pointing to one of the seminary students. “He is nineteen years
old, and is returning to the seminary for the last time. In the course
of a few months his mother is to find him a wife, and next year he will
return to be married, and then immediately ordained!”[7] This would be
before the canonical age for ordination, but was owing to the lack of
clergy in the Primorsk, in which there are about 50 congregations with
churches or chapels. Between Nikolaefsk and Vladivostock, a distance of
1,300 miles, are only 14 priests and 2 deacons; and so pressing was the
need of clergy a few years since that tradesmen, letter carriers, and
even yemstchiks in some few instances were ordained.

Mr. Peko accompanied me at Blagovestchensk to call upon Mr. Petroff,
the deputy-governor, from whom I learned that there was only one
prison in the province, having 26 rooms. We visited it, but the only
notes I have are “dirty and overcrowded,” and “punishment cells all
full,” some having two men in a place not too large for one. What
made the prison so full I know not, nor am I able to say whether they
were local offenders from the province or exiles temporarily there on
their way eastwards. There were none lounging about in the yard, so I
suppose they had all been gathered for our inspection. The punishment
cells being occupied was not, as far as I know, because the men had
misbehaved, but because they were compelled to use all available space.
Moreover, since the prison authorities seem to look upon solitary
confinement as so great a punishment, it may be that two were put in
some of the cells for the sake of company. I remember that when I spoke
to the president of the Tomsk prison approving the separate as opposed
to the gang system, he thought it was decidedly bad to put a _moujik_,
or simple peasant, in a cell alone; for “having nothing to think
about,” he said, “he might go mad!” This good man informed me, too, in
connection with my self-imposed mission, that the prisoners did not
want so much religion, but liked also books of history, travels, etc.
This I knew, but since three wagonloads did not more than suffice for
the little I attempted, and my means were limited both as to carriage
and in other ways, I was only too thankful to take so many books as
we did, and leave it to other philanthropists to complete the work. I
left 50 New Testaments and 12 wall pictures at Blagovestchensk with
Mr. Petroff for the prison, for the 20 rooms of his two hospitals and
a school in the course of erection, with four rooms for prisoners’
children.

Near the hospital were summer Cossack barracks, put together in the
most primitive fashion. The ordinary barracks needing repair, they
had cut branches of trees and leafy underwood, tied them in fagots,
and stood them up so as to form walls and roof, which gave tolerable
shelter for hot weather, but served as poor protection from wind and
rain. They were intended, however, to last only for a few weeks.

[Illustration: A STAROVERS OR OLD BELIEVERS’ COUNTRY CHURCH.]

From these summer barracks there was a fine view of the river and
town. The houses are situated on a plain 15 feet or 20 feet above
the water. The Government establishments and merchants’ stores are
large and well built, each having plenty of space around it. Some
of them have gardens, and stretching along the bank from the wharf
to the roomy telegraph office is a green sward planted with trees
for a park. Blagovestchensk has a population of only 3,400, but its
long river front and its cross streets give it the appearance of an
important town. Some of the shops were excellent, and well supplied
with merchandise. The town was founded in 1858, and the Amur Company
kept there one of its principal stores. On the winding up of its
affairs, this store was bought by the company’s clerk. Mr. Knox says,
in 1866, that the Russian officers complained of the combinations among
the merchants to maintain prices at an exorbitant scale. I heard,
too, that this is still done. If, for instance, in the middle of the
winter a merchant discovers that his brother tradesmen have sold all
their sugar or any other article, and that his stock is all the town
possesses, then, knowing that no more can arrive till the ice goes and
the navigation opens, he can demand higher prices for goods of which he
has a monopoly. Candles were quoted to me as costing usually 11_d._ or
1_s._ per lb., but as rising sometimes to 2_s._ 6_d._ Cheese costs from
2_s._ to 2_s._ 6_d._ per lb., but I suppose that these articles must
be of European or American manufacture. Chickens at Blagovestchensk
vary from 6_d._ to 2_s._ each, veal from 4_d._ to 5_d._, and beef from
2½_d._ to 4_d._ per lb. Milk costs 2_d._ per pint in summer, and 4_d._
in winter; live geese, bought from the Manchu, cost from 2_s._ 6_d._ to
4_s._; but in winter, from the Molokans, 5_s._ In connection with these
prices should be quoted the cost of land, which may be purchased from
the Government for 2_s._ an acre.

I was told that the town is full of dissenters. I did not hear of any
Starovers or Old Believers, nor observe on any church the _three_
transverse beams of their form of the cross; but there were many
Molokans,--colonists, I suppose, or descendants of exiles. Their
presence, doubtless, accounts for a good deal of the prosperity of the
town, for they are “honest, sober, and industrious.”

The _Molokans_ are so called because they drink milk on the usual
fasting days. Their origin is involved in obscurity, and by some is
dated back to the middle of the last century. Early in the present
century many were living in the south of Russia. An English gentleman,
residing at Berdiansk in 1848, visited their villages, and from his
wife I learn that Salamatin, the Molokan chief, and his family were
pious, but very simple, uneducated people. My friend used sometimes
to invite them to her table. She tells me that their enlightenment
came, to all appearance, simply from reading the Bible. They found
there the worship of images forbidden, and accordingly declined to
bow down before them, on which account some were persecuted, even
to bodily pain, but to no purpose; they would not give way. Blunt’s
“Dictionary of Sects” says that a Baron Haxthausen, in 1843, visited
a colony of 3,000 Molokans in the Crimea, and found that they denied
the necessity of baptism and the Lord’s Supper. With Blunt’s statement
partly agrees what my friend told me, namely, that some important
official came to visit the Molokans in her neighbourhood (not, however,
in the Crimea, but in the government of Ekaterinoslav, which was then
their habitation, their villages being situated on the banks of the
Moloshna), and found so little objectionable among them, and so much
that was good, that the official gave them an excellent character,
and they were afterwards left unmolested. Also their alleged disuse
of baptism and the Lord’s Supper seems to agree with what I heard of
them from a fellow-traveller, who lodged in the house of a Molokan; for
he told me that on Sundays they hold meetings, read the Scriptures,
pray, sing, expound the Bible, and ask questions, but he thought
they did not baptize nor receive the Lord’s Supper. But I remember my
lady friend telling me that when the Molokans separated from, or were
turned out of, the Russian Church, they had no priests nor any person
of education to guide them, nor have they priests now, but only elders;
hence, if they are without sacraments, I am not clear whether it is
from choice or necessity.[8] My fellow-passenger spoke in high terms
of the Molokans of Blagovestchensk. He said he never saw any of them
intoxicated, or even enter a tavern; that he rarely or never saw them
out of temper, or heard them use bad language; and that they spent
their spare time in reading the Scriptures.

But this does not save them from annoyance. Their manner of living at
Blagovestchensk has enabled many of the Molokans to become rich, so
that they can hire servants. An old Russian law, however, forbids a
Molokan to employ an orthodox Russian. The Russians, notwithstanding,
like to serve the Molokans, because they are good masters, and pay
well. Hence the law has become practically obsolete; but the summer
before my visit, the police-master (a man of anything but exemplary
moral character), having a grudge against a principal Molokan, and,
Haman-like, thinking scorn to lay hands on one only, began doing his
best to annoy the whole of them in the town. How the matter ended I did
not hear.

I saw, before I left Siberia, an official confirmation of the good
opinion I was led to form of the Molokans. The governor of a province
wrote officially to Petersburg thus: “We have 105 Molokans, most of
them living in the South Ussuri district. They are living quietly,
and are very laborious, and amenable to authority. They are civil in
their bearing towards the members of the orthodox Church, and are not
fanatical.” Looking, therefore, at this triple testimony, and comparing
the lives of the Molokans with the lives of the orthodox, I felt that
to bring the orthodox into contact with the Molokans would be likely
to improve the orthodox rather than otherwise, and that the Tsar would
have more good subjects than he now has if he had more Molokans.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] The number of dissenters is duly tabulated in the official reports
sent to the Emperor. Thus, in one of them I was permitted to see was
written, “No case has occurred during the year of dissenters being
reclaimed, but we have in the province, as last year, 140 of both sexes
of Bezpopoftschins, and 105 Molokans.”

[2] The amount collected in boxes at church doors in 1876 was
30,100 roubles 37½ kopecks, and from other sources 111,598 roubles
28¼ kopecks, making a total of 141,698 roubles 65¾ kopecks--say
£17,712 (reckoning the rouble _in this chapter_ at half-a-crown, its
approximate value at the date of the report), besides £1,537 paid to
the council by local committees. A comparison is drawn between 1876 and
the previous six years, and shows an advance over 1875 of 890 members
and £500. The Society has six associations in Siberia, of which Irkutsk
has the largest number of members--490, and raises the largest amount
of money--£3,470. There is also a list of “special donations” in 1876,
which were invested; one donation of 40 roubles, or £5; two of 50
roubles; one of 60; six of 100; one of 200; and one, the largest, of
300 roubles, or £37.

[3] The results obtained by the Society in 1879 in the region of the
Volga, inhabited chiefly by Mohammedans, are much less than in Asia,
the opposition being so great that for the present the missionaries
can only prepare the way. To this end, schools might become a powerful
auxiliary. Some tribes, such as the Tcheremisses and the Votyaks, for
example, show an inclination for instruction; but the want of funds
prevents the extension of the Russian school system to the Mohammedan
villages. The same is seen with the Kalmuks of Astrakhan, who would
welcome schools, and gladly abandon their nomad and heathen congeners
to settle upon lands assigned to them. At Noire-Cherinsk, 12 families
began the construction of houses, but for lack of money failed to
complete them, and asked the Government for an advance of £3 for each
family. At Oulane-Ergansk, certain families have come to settle, and
already are giving themselves to agriculture.

[4] One of their triumphs in 1879 was the conversion of the learned
lama, Taptchine-Nagbou-Mangolaiew, who was first impressed by the
Russian Church services he attended from the preceding year at Chita
and Verchne Udinsk, where, after the manner of the missionaries, the
service and singing is, I believe, in the vernacular. This man was
baptized in the waters of the Baikal, from which he takes his present
name of Vladimir Baikalsky. He understands seven languages--Manchu,
Chinese, Mongolian, Thibetan, Sanscrit, Latin, and Russ, and has
accepted the post of Professor of Mongolian in one of the missionary
colleges.

[5] The Government authorized, so far back as 1861, the construction
of a telegraphic line from Nikolaefsk, up the Amur, to Khabarofka,
which was to continue thence to the southernmost point of the Russian
territories on the Sea of Japan. The telegraph line from Kasan to Omsk
was to be opened in the same year; from Omsk to Irkutsk in 1862, and
thence undertaken in 1863 to Kiakhta and Khabarofka, the Amur Company
agreeing to do the work and the Minister of Marine to provide the
funds, the Government guaranteeing 5 per cent. on the outlay. The rates
for telegrams in Russia and Siberia are:--

Within a radius of 66 miles, 1 shilling for 20 words.
” ” 660 ” 2 shillings ” ”
” ” 1,000 ” 4 ” ” ”
Beyond ” ” ” 6 ” ” ”

[6] Upon my return journey on the Amur, I met on the boat some of the
students going back to Blagovestchensk after their holidays, and from
them and their teacher I got the following information respecting their
place of education. Priests’ sons are provided with education, food,
and clothing free; other scholars pay for food and clothing. They are
at the seminary ten months and a half during the year, and have the
remaining six weeks for holidays. They have six classes, and stay two
years in each, with four lectures daily, and read from eight till two.
At the seminary at Blagovestchensk, in 1878, there were 50 students
and nine professors, namely, of Latin, mathematics, Greek (no Hebrew),
theology, philosophy, the Bible, Russ, Manchu, physics, music, etc.
The students, I was told, on leaving, usually know a little Latin and
Greek, and may learn modern languages; but this last, in Russia, is not
compulsory.

[7] I have called this requirement of the Russian Church inconsistent
because they interpret St. Paul’s words, that a deacon should be the
husband of one wife, so literally as not to ordain a bachelor as
parish clergyman; and yet, though St. Paul gives the same injunction
concerning a bishop, they will not consecrate a priest to the
episcopate so long as he is married.

[8] The Molokans of Ekaterinoslav were not indifferent to the
sacraments, for Salamatin, their then chief, was wont to baptize by
immersion; and as for the Lord’s Supper, they celebrated it sitting
round a table, each communicant receiving a piece of bread broken from
one loaf, and the cup was afterwards passed round to each member.

CHAPTER XLII.

_THE MIDDLE AMUR._

Departure from Blagovestchensk.--The Zeya.--Climate.--Employment
of time.--Russian tea-drinking.--The Bureya river and
mountains.--Delightful scenery.--Ekaterino-Nicolsk.--Distribution
of books and Scriptures.--Recognized by a passenger.--Prairie
scenery.--Shooting a dog.--The Sungari.--Chinese
exclusiveness.--Course of the river.--The Amur province.--An
excise officer.--Remarks on alcohol.--Teetotalism in Russia.

We left Blagovestchensk on the morning of the 6th of August, and soon
found the river widened. A short distance below the town is the mouth
of the Zeya, the largest affluent of the Amur we had yet seen.[1]

It was along the Zeya that the first Russians reached the Amur in
1643. Since the Russian occupation, 5,000 peasants have been settled
along the river, which is said to be navigable for steam three or four
hundred miles from its mouth. It is, I believe, owing to the immense
volume of water at times discharged by this river that Blagovestchensk
is liable to serious inundations. At the time of my visit the town
stood from 20 to 30 feet above the river, but in the course of a few
weeks, news reached the Lower Amur that Blagovestchensk was so deeply
flooded that the water had risen to the telegraph wires, and that
there were several feet of water in the houses of the town. I heard,
subsequently, of a flood higher by five feet that took place in 1872.

Beyond Blagovestchensk we experienced a decided rise in the
thermometer. This town is on about the same parallel as London, and has
a summer temperature not very different; but its winter climate is much
more severe.[2] So far as my own experience is concerned, I was highly
favoured in the weather, for the only day on which any rain worth
noticing fell was the last of July, on the Shilka. At the commencement
of the voyage, at night, I put my maximum and minimum thermometers
out of the cabin window; but, having broken the latter on the 2nd of
August, I am unable to say more than that the nights became very much
warmer. On August 6th I noted that the heat was very great, and was
doubly thankful in the morning for a cold bath. My cabin was about the
size of an old-fashioned oblong church pew, with seats on the longer
sides. These were too narrow to sleep upon, so I inflated my air bed
and placed it on the floor; then in the morning it was necessary merely
to remove the bed and unfold my bath previous to calling for water.
I nowhere found in Russia or Siberia the use of “the tub” as English
people now use it; and when on one occasion in Moscow I asked the
landlord whether in the morning I could have a _cold_ bath, he said he
had never been asked for such a thing in his life!

Time on board hung by no means heavily upon my hands; for, having
received several papers of statistics and official information written
in Russ, I was glad to get them translated by some of the ladies who
spoke French. I thus had opportunities of receiving explanations upon
points not quite clear, and of correcting wrong impressions. With
this writing-up books I alternated letter-writing, both private and
official, though it seemed to be not much use writing to England,
since I expected to get there by crossing the Pacific in less time
than a letter could do so by crossing Siberia. The captain, however,
expected to meet a steamer that would take mails to Stretinsk, and
I therefore wrote a number of “open letters,” as the Russians call
them, if only that my friends might receive a penny post-card from the
land of my temporary exile. Among them, I remember, was one to Miss
Frances Ridley Havergal, to whom I had written the previous year during
my Archangel tour. I little thought at the time I was writing she
had passed away, and that when crossing America I should read of her
death.[3]

Thus, what with translating and writing, reading some small manuals
I had brought on botany and geology, and gathering information on
Russian affairs, the days passed happily enough. My fellow-voyagers
were pleasant, and, after being thrown together for nearly a
fortnight, we became quite sociable. The afternoon samovar was a great
rallying-point, for Russians dearly love their tea--and not a little
of it either. When two Moscow merchants have concluded a satisfactory
bargain, they retire to a _traktir_, or tea-shop, where they call for a
samovar, drink so many potations and make themselves so hot, that they
call for a towel to wipe off the perspiration, and then--“begin again.”
Our cook replenished his pantry at Blagovestchensk, and so did I, for
I bought up all the white bread I could find, and Mr. Peko kindly gave
his parting guest both butter and cheese. On the first day we travelled
340 miles, to Ekaterino-Nicolsk. When we started, the river was 1,200
yards in width, with soundings of 15 feet. At Aigun, 14 miles lower,
it had increased to 1,866 yards wide, and to 30 feet deep. The scenery
during the early part of the day displayed an extensive plain, with no
visible limit on the left hand, and bounded on the right by low ranges
of hills. The soil of this prairie is clayey, with an upper stratum of
rich black mould, which is covered with luxuriant grasses, attaining
often the height of a man. Among them may be seen Manchurian panic
grass, and succulent, broad-bladed kinds of which I do not know the
names; also grape and pea vines, and many varieties of flowers, among
which the lily of the valley is so abundant as to fill the air with its
fragrance. Small shrubs of cinnamon-rose are hidden everywhere by the
grass, and, with vetches and other climbing plants, render travelling
over these prairies, as Mr. Collins testifies, extremely difficult.

[Illustration: RUSSIAN PEASANT, WITH SAMOVAR.]

Below Aigun, the country on the north continues flat, and is covered
with a rich black soil, in places fourteen inches thick. About 30
miles below Aigun, the river divides into many channels, and the
right bank in several places is scooped out and steep. On the left
are extensive shallows and sandbanks--some barren, others covered
with grasses and willows. Of this last there are nine species on the
river. The natives use the bark for making ropes. At Skobeltsina,
160 miles below Blagovestchensk, the Bureya comes in from the north,
after a course of 703 miles. This river flows through a level prairie
country, diversified by clumps of oaks and maples. At its mouth it has
a breadth of half a mile. Beyond this stream the south bank rises,
and toward the latter part of the day we found ourselves not far from
the Bureya mountains, where the hills approached close to the river.
Coal seams from three to four inches thick, resembling cannel coal,
have been discovered in this district. The lower portions of the hills
were wooded with small oaks, and on more elevated parts were denser
forests of young oak and black birch. In shady ravines are found groves
of white birch and aspen, and in open situations, and on the islands,
various kinds of willows, limes, bird-cherry trees, small Tatar apples,
elms, the Manchu ash, the Mongol oak, and a few cork trees of small
size. Hazels also grow here, and at the skirt of the forest may be
found the vine climbing the trees to the height of 15 feet. The most
characteristic shrub of these forests is the Manchurian virgin’s bower,
the numerous white blossoms of which contribute not a little to its
beauty.

We were favoured with a delightful evening for our journey through the
Bureya mountains, the scenery of which reminded me forcibly of some
parts of the Danube.[4]

The Bureya, or Little Khingan, mountains cross the valley of the Amur
at nearly right angles. They are of mica schist, clay slate, and
granite. Porphyry has been found in one locality, and there are said
to exist indications of gold. As we journeyed down the stream in the
evening light, the tortuous course of the river added much to the
beauty of the scene. Almost every minute the picture changed, hill,
forest, and cliff giving variety to the prospect as we wound our way
through the defile. Here and there were tiny cascades breaking over
the steep rocks to the edge of the river, and occasionally a little
meadow nestled in a ravine. At times one seemed completely enclosed in
a lake, from which there was no escape visible save by climbing the
hills, and it was impossible to discover any trace of an opening half a
mile ahead. And thus we travelled on, till at dusk we arrived for the
night at Ekaterino-Nicolsk, a settlement of 300 houses, standing on
a plateau 40 feet above the river. Here I found a church, which was
approached through an avenue of trees in a public garden. I afterwards
learned that specimens of all the trees in the region were planted
there; but when I entered it, the light was too far gone to allow of my
seeing more than that we had come to beauties of vegetation superior to
anything I had yet beheld in Siberia.

The arrival of a steamer at Ekaterino-Nicolsk is not an event that
takes place daily throughout the year, and the whistle draws a large
proportion of the population to the river’s bank--some to sell garden
produce, some to meet friends, and some to look on. These little
crowds afforded me excellent opportunities for distributing my tracts,
and selling or giving away the Scriptures. A large proportion of the
Russian colonists get their living by supplying fuel for the steamers.
In 1866 the Government used wood to the value of £6,000, and private
firms £1,200; and as we had frequently to stop at these wood stations,
I was able to go on shore, and leave my printed messengers in the most
out-of-the-way places, where they were always thankfully received, and
often gladly purchased.[5]

This attracted the attention of the passengers, who wished also to
purchase. One day, on the Shilka, I sold more than 30 copies, some
of them to very poor-looking persons. A merchant on board wished to
invest largely, but I was unwilling to sell wholesale, preferring
rather to scatter my stock over as wide an area as possible. I
found, moreover, that travelling merchants in Siberia ask a shilling
for the books I was selling at sixpence; and though, considering
the difficulties of carriage from Petersburg, this was not perhaps
exorbitant, yet I wished rather to bring my wares directly within
reach of as many purchasers as possible, and even to _give_ them, if
necessary, in lonely and far-off places. We reached some out-of-the-way
spots on the Obi by sending parcels of books to the priests, with a
letter, but this I was unable to do on the Upper and Middle Amur.

The curiosity of my fellow-passengers was of course aroused by what
appeared to them my strange proceedings, and they hit upon various
conjectures as to who and what I might be. It has not unfrequently
been my experience to find, after curiosity has subsided, that my
distributing religious literature has secured for me many attentions
and acts of kindness from those who, before reading the tracts,
were disposed to be prejudiced and perhaps opposed. I found this
particularly the case in Siberia, though I was hardly prepared to
learn that the intelligence of what I had done three years before
in Finland had reached the Amur. On the second day, however, between
Blagovestchensk and Khabarofka, a passenger, who had come on board
the previous day, espied my name on my luggage, and, coming on deck,
he asked if I had travelled round the Gulf of Bothnia. On receiving
a reply in the affirmative, he said he had read of my tour, which
had been translated by my Finnish friend for a paper called the
_Helsingfors Dagblad_. He thus remembered what I had done, and was
abundantly willing to be of service if he could. His name was M. Emil
Kruskopf, an inspector in the telegraph service, and he performed
several kindnesses for me unasked. He had been flattered as a Finn by
the way I had spoken of the Scandinavian steamers, and thus I found
that a kind word was bearing its fruit after many days, and far from
the place where it was spoken.

Among the crowd who came to look on at Nicolsk was the priest, to whom
I gave some pamphlets and some copies of the _Russian Workman_. Next
morning we departed, hoping by nightfall to reach Khabarofka. After
proceeding a short distance the mountains receded on the left, and, a
little lower, on the right also. Then appeared two islands, the one on
the right being about half a mile long and a few yards high, covered
with birches and elms, in the shade of which grasses grow to the height
of six feet. The second island is a steep rock. The depth of the river
continued to be 70 feet.[6]

The country in this part is the most desolate along the whole course of
the Amur; though, with us, the monotony of the afternoon was enlivened
by a cry that a bear was swimming across the river. And, surely enough,
there was the head of _some_ animal above the water, not very far from
the steamer, though I confess it did not appear to me to be that of a
bear. Some of the passengers went below for their revolvers and rifles,
and began to fire, much to the excitement of every one on board. The
captain stopped the ship, and as the animal came nearer, the shot
entered the water so close to his nose that he raised himself to see
what was the matter. At last a bullet struck him in the head, and the
discolored water proclaimed a fatal shot. A boat was lowered, and some
of the crew put off, but only to find that all the excitement had been
bestowed upon an unfortunate dog!

We passed the mouth of the Sungari, on the southern bank of the Amur,
992 miles below Ust-Strelka.[7] The Sungari, with its affluents, drains
the larger portion of Manchuria. Very little is known about it, though
its valley is said to be tolerably well peopled and fertile.[8]

We had now reached the most southerly bend of the Amur, and had entered
a somewhat different climate from that of the Bureya range, for these
mountains are cooler than either of the prairies above or below them.[9]

Below the Sungari the level prairie continues along the left bank of
the Amur. On the right bank a range of hills accompanies the river for
a distance of 20 miles, and at the villages of Dyrki, Etu, and Kinneli
are bold cliffs. The hills are covered with an open forest. Underneath
them a luxuriant herbage shoots up to the height of five feet, and
in July are seen the numerous red flowers of the Lespedeza, the blue
blossoms of vetches, large white umbels of the Biotia, and catkins of
the Sanguisorba. On the shores of the islands in the river are heaped
up the bleached trunks of fallen trees and driftwood.

As we drew towards the end of our voyage, we were approaching likewise
the confines of the Amur province, which is at once the smallest and
least populous of the provinces of Siberia.[10] There are 31 stations
between Blagovestchensk and Khabarofka, the distance is 560 miles, and
I paid for first-class fare £2 10_s._ The largest of the stations and
the most important is Michael Semenovsk, about 17 miles below the mouth
of the Sungari, so named in honour of a Governor-General of Eastern
Siberia. It is a military post, and rejoices in the possession of two
iron guns pointing over the river in the direction of China, though
they are said to be utterly useless for purposes of war, and can only
be employed for firing salutes.

At this place we put off some of our passengers, and among them the
wife of the artillery officer whom we had first seen as far back as
Kansk, and with whom we had been brought in contact on the Baikal, and
again on the Shilka. It looked as if our acquaintance was now to cease,
but it was not so; for when I reached Vladivostock this lady appeared
again, at a distance of more than 3,000 miles from where we first met.
I had made another acquaintance also since leaving Blagovestchensk,
one Baron Stackelberg. This gentleman had been sent to the Amur to
put the screw on in the matter of excise. At the annexation of the
country, the Government was so anxious to people it that they promised
emigrants immunity from taxes for 20 years, and this time was nearly
up. The Baron had, therefore, to put things in order, and had been
doing so since 1875, when he crossed Siberia by land and happened to
fall in and travel with Mr. Milne, to whose journey across Europe and
Asia I have alluded in a previous chapter. The Baron spoke pleasingly
of his journey with his English friend, as he called him, and he was
evidently disposed to give a second Englishman a welcome. He spoke
French fluently, and gave me some interesting statistics about alcohol,
which is the principal source of the Government revenue both in Russia
and Siberia.[11] I hesitate, from my own experience, to endorse the
opinion sometimes expressed, that the Russians, as a people, are more
intemperate than the English. Among them, it is true, the vice seems
to pass for less sin and for less shame than with us; but England has
the unenviable notoriety of arresting in one year 203,989 persons
for crimes in which drunkenness is entered as part of the charges! I
can present no statistics on the number of drunkards in Russia. One
does see a great many, certainly, on a festival. I was lamenting this
to a Russian lady, when she acknowledged its truth, but reminded me
that with them the evil is confined chiefly to men; and without doubt,
whatever comparison may be instituted between the two countries with
regard to drunkenness among the male sex, they have no town in Russia
which has more drunken women than men--that apprehends in a single
year 6,276 females to 5,537 males, or 32 drunkards a day! For this,
alas! we must look to England--to Liverpool. Still, drunkenness is a
most fruitful cause of crime in Russia, as witnessed by what I saw and
heard in the prisons at Tiumen, Tobolsk, and Barnaul; and it may very
well be questioned whether the evil habits among Russians of gambling,
drunkenness, and idleness are not in part to be traced to the very
large number of holy days in their calendar, on many of which they
abstain from work more completely than on Sundays. They fast rigorously
and long, and then, at the close, break out in excess.

Teetotalism has not yet made much way among the Russian people or
clergy. I chanced, indeed, to be dining in Petersburg in company with
a gentleman, who said that the priest of his country parish was an
abstainer, whom he sometimes invited to dinner; and when he would give
him a little red wine for his stomach’s sake, the priest declined,
saying that if he did not abstain altogether he might soon become a
drunkard, because invited so often to drink by his parishioners.
This case, however, was sufficiently uncommon to cause a lady present
to observe that she had never heard of an abstaining priest before.
Accordingly, it is with great satisfaction I have observed from the
newspapers that the matter has been under the consideration of the
present Emperor, and that his Majesty has called in certain experts to
advise on the subject. God send them help against this national curse,
the demon of intemperance!

My meeting with Baron Stackelberg had an important bearing on my
wanderings; for I had intended, on arriving at Khabarofka, to leave the
Amur, and proceed direct up the Ussuri to Vladivostock. But so it was
not to be, and in less than 24 hours I found myself going 1,250 miles
out of my way, and in the opposite direction. But before leaving the
Chinese border I must say something of the southern bank of the Amur,
concerning which and its inhabitants I have hitherto been almost silent.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] This river rises in the Yablonoi range, and pursues a course of
700 miles to the south-east, receiving several affluents from the east
before it flows into the main stream. At its mouth it is nearly a mile
wide, and in some places 35 feet deep. Its swift, turbid, yellowish
waters are no mean addition to the black waters of the Sak-hah-lin, as
the natives call the Amur. For some distance below the junction the two
colors are distinctly visible; but finally the black dragon swallows up
his yellow neighbour, and flows on majestically towards the ocean.

[2] The greatest heat, in July 1877, at Blagovestchensk was 89°·2,
and at Greenwich 88°·2; but the greatest cold, in December, at
Blagovestchensk was 32° below zero, as compared with 28°·7, the
greatest cold at Greenwich. Speaking generally of the weather at
Blagovestchensk, Mr. Ravenstein remarks that in the winter of 1859-60
it was fine until the middle of October. On the 4th November snow fell,
and soon after the river was frozen. During December and January it was
fine though cold, the temperature falling occasionally to 45° below
zero, and at one time to 49°, and never rising more than 9°·5 above
it. Violent storms occurred during November, and again in February. On
the 2nd of April was the first thaw. Between the 6th and 9th of May
the river became free of ice, and the last snow fell on the 12th, but
without remaining on the ground. The greatest heat during the summer
was 99°. The district of the Middle Amur enjoys a more favourable
climate than the Upper Amur, though only so far as the summer months
are concerned. These are free from hoar-frost, which, on the upper
part of the river, is often destructive to the harvest. The winter is
quite as long, and the Amur at Blagovestchensk is frozen over from the
beginning of November to the commencement of May; and the Zeya some
three weeks longer. The quantity of snow, however, is not too great
to allow of the Manyargs keeping their horses throughout the winter
pasturing in the open air.

[3] I wrote also to General Kaznakoff, the Governor-General of Western
Siberia, at Omsk, requesting that the Scriptures, which I had arranged
for the interpreter to take to Tiumen to be forwarded thence, might be
distributed through the provinces of Akmolinsk and Semipolatinsk; so
that, with what I hoped to do in the Sea-coast province, I began to
look upon my plans for the supply of the Siberian prisons as all but
completed. The boxes containing these books did not reach Tiumen till
the autumn; they were some time on the road to Omsk; but when I last
heard of them, they had reached their destination, and were about to be
distributed.

[4] At the entrance of the defile, 783 miles below Ust-Strelka, and on
the north bank, is situated the station Pashkof. On the opposite bank
rises the bold promontory of Sverbeef, projecting far into the river.
From a breadth of two miles the Amur suddenly decreases to 700 yards,
the depth in many places reaching to 70 feet, and thus it flows for 100
miles to Ekaterino-Nicolsk. The current sweeps along at the rate of
three miles, and in some places attains as much as 5½ miles an hour.

[5] Another opportunity had occurred on the Upper Amur, on our meeting
a steamer lugging an immense two-decked barge laden with seamen, who
had finished their term of service in the Pacific, and were returning
homewards with their wives and children. Their barge had the appearance
of a huge Mississippi steamer loaded with passengers above and below,
and as we approached they hailed us. Our captain was not then out of
shallow water, and as he knew the commander of the approaching steamer
he deemed it advisable to drop alongside and ask about the condition
of the river, exchange a few kindly words, and perhaps drink with his
brother navigator a glass of tea, or something stronger. I, too, went
on board, and sold 20 New Testaments in as many minutes, distributing
also several papers and books. I wished to make the captain a present
of some New Testaments for the use of the crews of his two boats, but
he preferred to buy them, and gave me 3½ roubles for 14 copies, to
which I added some placards, etc. The captains, too, of the _Zeya_ and
the _Ingoda_ bought some for their crews in preference to my giving
them. I had, however, already nailed up some of my pictures in both
cabins of the two boats, and placed in each a copy of the New Testament
for the use of the passengers, as was done also for the boats by which
we travelled on the Obi and the Kama.

[6] From this part to the mouth of the Sungari the prairie extends as
far as the eye can reach, and the banks of the river are in many places
swampy. The stream increases in breadth, and has numerous islands
covered with willows and other trees. The islands do not interfere with
the navigation, as they are ranged along the two banks of the river,
and leave an open channel between.

[7] The color of the Sungari is lighter than the Amur, and Mr. Collins,
who tasted the water, pronounces it insipid and warm, as coming from
a southern source. The force of the current is about two knots, that
of the Amur here being four knots. The Sungari is a mile and one-third
in breadth at the mouth. It rises on the eastern slopes of the great
Khingan, or Shan-alin, or White Mountains, and, being joined by many
tributaries, runs in a southerly direction, till, meeting another
affluent from the mountains which border on the Corea, it turns to the
north-east, and, after a course of 1,000 miles, falls into the Amur.

[8] The first large town up the river is San-sin, which Mr. Maximowicz
the naturalist, in 1859, endeavoured to reach, but he was compelled to
return on account of his hostile reception by the jealous and exclusive
Chinese villagers. I met at Khabarofka a Russian merchant, who had
proceeded up the river some distance to purchase corn; an attempt,
however, in which he only partially succeeded,--and that little, I
understood, through the mediation of a Roman Catholic missionary. By
the Chinese treaty with Russia the Sungari is declared to be open for
the purposes of commerce. It thus presents an unoccupied field for some
enterprising pioneer who will thus push his way into Manchuria.

[9] In the Bureya district in August thick fogs rest on the river in
the morning, and the nights are cold. The amount of snow throughout the
winter is about 4½ feet or more. The climate, however, on the Amur,
which is most favourable, is that found between the mouths of the
Sungari and Ussuri, though even here the river is ice-bound during five
or six months. At Khabarofka it freezes about the end of November and
opens in the beginning of May. Snow covers the ground to the depth of
a foot or a foot and a half, and even 2½ feet in exceptional winters.
Below the mouth of the Sungari the Amur divides into several streams,
and many islands have been formed in its bed. The river, too, changes
its course, and runs to the north-east, which seems to be a direct
continuation of the Sungari. In fact, this river has been claimed by
some as the parent river. The Russians, however, could well afford to
allow the Chinese to establish this relationship, for then the Tsar
would be entitled to the greater part of Manchuria, the treaty giving
Russia all the land “north of the Amur,” to which John Chinaman would
probably object.

[10] It has an area of 173,000 square miles, and is about the size of
Spain, its population amounting to only 22,000 persons. In this last
respect it contrasts favourably with the neighbouring province of
Yakutsk, which is eight times as large, but has only about 1,200 more
inhabitants. The one town of the province is Blagovestchensk, where the
Governor resides. The other habitations form mere villages situated on
the banks of the river.

[11] “Alcohol” is spirit obtained from corn and potatoes, and has 95
degrees of strength; “vodka” is the same spirit weakened by water to
40 degrees, and filtered. A bottle of alcohol costs at Vladivostock
2_s._ 6_d._; a bottle of vodka 1_s._ 3_d._ The Baron was an Esthonian
by birth, and he pointed out the remarkable fact that, whilst Esthonia
relatively produced more brandy than did other Russian provinces, yet
it had the smallest number of shops for its sale. Whether any moral
could be drawn from this tale I know not; but I subsequently find on
the same opening of my journal two noteworthy entries respecting the
Amur. One is that the excise taxes for the Sea-coast province amounted
in 1878 to rather more than 20 times the amount realized by all the
remaining taxes put together; and the other is the official return
to the Emperor, that “the chief causes of crime in the province are
gambling and drunkenness.” Comment is needless, and I do not here stay
to make any, except to observe how humiliating it is that any country
which calls itself Christian, be it Russia or England, should derive
its largest revenue from that which most demoralizes its subjects.

CHAPTER XLIII.

_THE MANCHURIAN FRONTIER._

I have said very little on what we saw in descending the Amur of the
Daurians and Manchu, because I thought it better to reserve a separate
chapter for these extra-Siberian people. Manchuria is bounded on the
north by the Amur, on the east by the Ussuri, on the west by Dauria and
Mongolia, and on the south by Corea and the Yellow Sea. It is, in fact,
the country north of Peking, from which city the territory is governed,
and with which its history is closely connected.[1]

A few words should be said, perhaps, first of the Daurians, whose
territory we passed whilst on the Upper Amur. Of old they were settled
along both banks of the river, and doubtless may here and there be
found still on the northern bank; but for the sake of clearness I have
preferred to treat of them on the southern bank in their proximity to
the Manchu, from whom they can scarcely be distinguished in appearance,
and with whom they have more in common than with the natives of the
north. The Daurians and Manchu, Mr. Howorth says, are of the same
stock in every way. The division is a political one only. The Daurians
probably represent the section who paid tribute to the Chinese Court,
and the Manchu those who were free. Mr. Wahl says that “Daours” is a
name given to the Tunguses of the Amur by the Buriats. The Daurians
are taller and stronger than the Orochons, the countenance is oval
and more intellectual, and the cheeks are less broad. The nose is
rather prominent, and the eyebrows straight. The skin is tawny, the
hair brown. The lower classes do not shave the head, and their hair
resembles an ill-constructed haystack, around which they twist their
pigtail. The higher classes shave the head in front and over the
temples, but wear a tail.

The Daurians carry on agriculture successfully, and cultivate
vegetables and tobacco. They live in houses made of earth, thatched
with reeds or thin bamboos, and have the walls whitewashed inside. The
houses are not divided into compartments, and the fireplace is outside,
near the door, the smoke from it passing through a pipe into the house.
Two iron kettles always form part of the household utensils, one of
them for heating water for tea, the other for cooking the food. The
windows are large and square, of paper soaked in oil. They are hinged
at the top, and are propped open for ventilation. The religion of the
Daurians is Shamanism. We saw their canoes from time to time when
stopping at wood stations on the Upper Amur, but recognized few of the
people themselves.

We saw many Manchu from the Zeya to the Khingan mountains. The southern
shores of the Amur are inhabited by Manchu and Chinese, the latter
being either exiles or their descendants.[2] On the south bank of
the Amur, opposite Blagovestchensk, is a small Manchu town, called
_Sakhalin-Ula-Hotun_ (City of the Black River). The Manchu and Chinese
formerly called the river above the Sungari “Sakhalin-Ula.” The Goldi
called the Amur “Mongo,” and the Gilyaks “Mamoo.” The name Amur was
given by the Russians, and is considered a corruption of the Gilyak
word. I paid a visit to Sakhalin-Ula on the evening our steamer stayed
in the vicinity. It is said to have less than 2,000 inhabitants.
I was accompanied by Mr. Niellsen, from the telegraph office at
Blagovestchensk, who was slightly known to one of the Manchu merchants.
The town stretches a mile along the bank, but extends only a few paces
back from the river. It consists of a single street, and is anything
but picturesque; for the fences, made of log-frames and covered with
board, shut out the view of the gardens, in which are grown millet,
maize, radishes, onions, leeks, garlic, Spanish pepper, and cabbages.
The walls of the houses are of log plastered with mud, and the windows
usually of paper, but occasionally of glass.

The roofs of the buildings are covered with thatch of wheaten straw,
and the town is embowered in elms, birches, maples, poplars, and wild
apple-trees. This contrasts favourably with the Russian town, where
there are few trees except those in the park. Timber, for use of both
Russians and Manchu, is cut in the forests 60 miles up the river, and
rafted down. They keep plenty of fowls and pigs, and a few horned
cattle used for ploughing. Sakhalin-Ula abounds in gardens, which
supply the market of Blagovestchensk. Once a month, during the full
moon, the Manchu cross the river and open a fair, which lasts seven
days. They sell the Russians wheaten and buckwheat flour, barley,
beans, oats, eggs, walnuts, vegetables, Ussuri apples, fowls, pigs,
cows, and horses. Thus the Russians usually lay in a month’s supply;
but should they require anything out of fair-time, the Manchu are not
only ready to supply it, but do so at lower prices than the sums asked
by the Russian merchants.

As we walked along the street we met a solitary woman, who ran quickly
out of the way, as if afraid of us; and having made a long _détour_
from the road, regained it, and continued her journey behind us. The
Manchu women dress like the Chinese, in a blue cotton gown, with short
loose sleeves, above which the well-to-do wear a cape or mantle of
silk, reaching to the waist. The hair is brushed up, fastened on the
top of the head in a bunch, and is secured by a comb ornamented with
beads and hair-needles, and decked with gay ribbons, with real or
artificial flowers. The earrings, finger-rings, and bracelets exhibit
much taste. The women are in the habit of carrying their youngest
children about with them, tied on the back. The girls, on being
released from swaddling-clothes, are dressed like their mothers; but
the boys, up to six or seven years of age, wear only a pair of loose
pantaloons.

The costume of the men is a long blue coat of cotton, loose linen
trousers fastened at the knee or made into leggings, and Chinese boots
of skin. They wear also a kind of vest and a belt, to which is attached
a case containing a knife, Chinese chopsticks, tinder, a small copper
pipe, and tobacco. Both sexes are fond of smoking, and, as in China,
constantly carry a fan.

As we passed one of the houses, we saw a Manchu, sitting out in the
cool of the evening, enjoying his music, which he produced by scraping
a stringed instrument of the violin order, though it is no compliment
to the fiddle to mention the two together. At Khabarofka I saw other
musical instruments, coming nearer to the shape of the banjo. One, with
three strings, had a long handle of rosewood, and a drum about six
inches in diameter. The drum was covered on either side with serpents’
skin, but if its sound was no more pleasing than that of the instrument
at Sakhalin-Ula, I fear it would generally be thought trying to English
ears.

By dint of inquiry, we found the merchant to whom my companion was
known, and, on entering his yard, saw some Mongolian sheep, with their
enormous tails. It was not difficult to understand particularly fat
Thibetan sheep needing a little carriage upon which to support this
appendage. One could wish them better conveyances, however, than the
Manchu carts, which are of a very clumsy description. They have two
wheels fixed to the axletree, all turning together. They are drawn by
oxen, and move slowly, creaking along. The Manchu have besides a rough
kind of travelling carriage for persons of distinction, a two-wheeled
affair, not long enough to allow one to lie at full length, nor with
covering high enough to permit one to sit upright. It has no springs,
the frame resting on the axle. The sides are curtained with cloth,
having little windows or peep-holes. A few cushions and hard pillows
inside serve to diminish the effect of jolting. The shafts are like
those of a common dray, with a sort of shelf to support the driver
sitting sideways about ten inches behind the horse. The wheel tires
are of surprising breadth and thickness, and cogged as if made for use
in a machine. In fact, a “machine” is exactly the word for the whole
concern; and on coming out of the said machine after a long journey,
and its accompanying jolting over execrable roads, it may well be
doubted whether one would not feel bruised “all over alike.”

Our merchant friend gave us a hearty welcome, and bade us be seated in
his house, which closely resembled the house of the merchant with whom
we dined at Maimatchin. Usually, when a guest enters a Manchu dwelling,
one of the women fills and lights a pipe, and having taken a few puffs
herself, and wiped the mouthpiece with her hand or apron, presents it.
The people in the house we visited were perfectly ready to show us
anything and everything we desired to see. One of them was writing,
with Indian ink and pen of split reed, or pencil of squirrel’s hair,
when, upon observing that I watched him closely, he wrote my name in
Chinese on a piece of paper, and gave it me as a souvenir, whilst I did
the same in English, and so returned the compliment. They presented me
also a bundle of joss-sticks for making a perfume, and which they burn
before their idols.

Adjoining the room in which we sat was the shop, where they arrayed
me in silk dressing-gowns of splendid quality. Among the articles
the Manchu sell to the Russians are silk stuffs, peltry, artificial
flowers, felt shoes, matting, etc.; but I saw nothing that so tempted
me as the silk dressing-gowns. I forbore to purchase one only because
my companion told me that I should get them better and find a larger
selection in Japan. We contented ourselves, therefore, with admiring
them, to the amusement, apparently, of the Manchu, for they repeatedly
imitated not only our speaking but our words and exclamations of
surprise, and even our manner of laughing.

I heard in this town of a strange method of treatment of the dead, for
Mr. Niellsen told me they were kept in the house for several days; they
are then half buried in a funereal hut in the garden or field. The
corpse is daily visited by the relatives, who bring all sorts of food
and drink. The food is put to the mouth of the deceased with a spoon,
and the drink is placed in small cups outside the hut. A few weeks pass
in this manner, and then the decomposed corpse is buried deeper.

Steaming away from Sakhalin-Ula, we passed several kinds of Manchu
boats, which present a lively appearance on the river. The junks for
heavy merchandise are about 60 feet long, from 12 to 14 feet wide,
with high bows and sterns, and a large mast, 40 feet high, amidships.
Most of them are built on the Sungari, and have a small hut-like
construction at the stern. They draw from three to four feet of water,
and are manned by a crew of ten,--eight for pushing at the poles, one
to steer, and a pilot on the bows to sound and announce the depth of
water. Smaller than the junks are the merchants’ boats, with an awning
over the state-room, in which the merchant lives, whilst his crew and
cargo are stowed in the forepart of the craft. A good deal of valuable
merchandise is sometimes carried on board. I remember going to one of
them at a stopping-place where the owner showed me a gold watch, said
to be of English make, about which, however, when asked for an opinion,
I was bound to express my doubts. I thought perhaps the man of business
might be disposed to purchase my revolver, for which I had had no use,
and found it somewhat in the way. I offered it, therefore, to him for
what it cost me. He was accustomed only to the prices of the common
Russian revolvers, whereas mine was of good English make. The figure,
therefore, alarmed him, though, perhaps, after an hour’s patience, we
might have come to terms; but the whistle sounded, and I had abruptly
to close our negotiations and make for the steamer.

A Manchu fishing-boat is made of the trunk of a hollowed-out tree, cut
in two pieces, fastened with wooden pegs, and secured from leaking with
pitch. The small ones are propelled by one man, with a double-bladed
paddle. They also make flat-bottomed boats of planks. Most of them
carry flags or streamers, and some have dragons’ heads on their bows.

The traveller sometimes sees a novel method of fishing by the Manchu,
who sit perched on a tripod of tent-poles, ten feet high, placed at the
edge of the river. Here the fisherman waits, like a heron, watching
for fish, which he catches with pole, net, or spear, according to
circumstances. One would suppose the seat must be very uncomfortable,
but these tripods, tied at the top, are seen on many sandbars and
shoals, showing it to be one of the recognized methods of fishing. I
saw also, below Sakhalin, another curious fishing machine, something
like a hand-cart, with two small wheels and long handles. A frame over
the axle sustained a long pole, from which was suspended a net about
the size of a shrimp net. The machine could thus be wheeled into the
water, and the snare lowered, after which the net was lifted again
with its catch. During winter, when the river is covered with ice, the
Daurians practise a third method of fishing, known to the Cossacks as
_chekacheni_, or “malleting.” Where the ice is transparent, the fish
may be seen almost immovable near the surface of the water beneath
it. A few blows on the ice with a mallet stun the fish, a hole is then
made, and they are taken out with the hand or a small net.

The Manchu are excellent archers. At the military stations trials of
skill take place periodically in the presence of the Mandarins and
others.[3] “To know how to shoot an arrow,” writes a Manchu author,
“is the first and most important knowledge for a Tatar to acquire.”
I presume, however, this was written before the introduction of the
clumsy Manchu matchlock.

Fourteen miles below the Zeya, and a few hours after leaving
Blagovestchensk, our steamer arrived at Aigun, the chief town of the
Manchu on the Amur, and once possessing considerable strength. It was
formerly the capital of the Chinese province of the Amur, but the seat
of government was transferred, some five-and-thirty years ago, to
Tsi-tsi-har. It has now a population estimated at 15,000. The town is
built on a bank some 8 or 10 feet above high-water mark. The tableland
behind the town extends to mountains in a serrated chain, which show
themselves as a background to the picture upon the southern horizon.

The Government buildings and several temples are surrounded by a
double row of palisades, in the form of a square; and outside this
are several hundred mud houses. The town has a gloomy appearance. The
houses are nearly all of but one storey, and stand in square yards
surrounded by fences of stakes or wickerwork. The only relief to the
eye is produced by the gaily-painted temples, which are surrounded with
trees, apparently sacred groves, the more noticeable as growing timber
is scarce in this region. The temples are square buildings erected
with rather more care than private houses. The walls are made of thin
poles set up side by side, with the interstices filled with clay, and
smoothened. The sloping roof is thatched with straw. As you enter you
find yourself in an ante-room, separated from the inner compartment by
a curtain running along the width of the temple, and suspended from
slender pillars. The curtain being drawn aside, there is seen a table
against the wall, upon or over which is a picture of a deity; and on
the table lie dried stems and leaves of Artemisia, and some Chinese
coins. There is also a semi-globular vessel of metal, with three holes
on each side, which is struck by the worshipper, after he has made his
obeisance, to attract the notice of the god.[4]

I observed at Aigun, as at Maimatchin, the proximity of the temple
and the theatre, and noticed poles standing in front of the
Government houses and temples. But I am not clear whether they are
merely flag-poles or whether they are for a purpose mentioned by Mr.
Ravenstein, who alludes to poles fixed on the screens facing the doors
of private houses, the upper parts of which poles are ornamented by the
Manchu with the skulls of beasts of prey, small flags, and horsehair,
and during prayer are hoisted whilst the worshippers lie prostrate.

Very few foreigners have succeeded in gaining admittance to Aigun. Mr.
Collins, with Captain Fulyhelm, made a resolute but fruitless endeavour
to do so.[5]

This exclusiveness, however, appears to have abated in after years; for
in 1866 Mr. Knox had no difficulty in visiting the town, even when the
Governor happened to be absent. He speaks of the streets as having some
dry spots, but that otherwise, by reason of the mud, he should describe
the measurement of the “broadway” of Aigun as about two miles long,
50 feet wide, and “two feet deep.” The shops in one of the principal
streets have open fronts. Here the merchandise is exposed, and the
merchant, attired in silks, gravely smokes his pipe till a purchaser
enters. Dragons and other figures, cut in paper, are fixed to poles
surmounting the shops, and paper lanterns hang across the street. The
town has a guard-house and military quarters, and there was pointed out
to me, from the deck of the steamer, the fortress and gateway leading
to the Government quarter. Over the gateway was a small room, like the
drawbridge room in a castle of the middle ages. Twenty men could be
lodged there to shoot arrows or throw hot water on an invading foe.

I was not fortunate in getting into the city--not, however, through
any difficulty with the authorities (as Baron Stackelberg offered to
telegraph to the Chinese Governor to give permission for me to enter),
but, owing to delays, our boat was so behind time that the captain
could not be induced to lose a couple of hours for the purpose. We
stopped, therefore, only a few minutes to take in passengers. Crowds
of Manchu and Chinese came to the bank, some of the women having very
remarkable head-gear. Men with a cloth about the waist were washing
their plump little Manchu horses in the river; and we saw a number
of junks drawn up on the banks. These represent some of the Chinese
naval force on the Amur,--but only _some_, I suppose--because, when
the Russians obtained the river, the Chinese transferred their navy to
the Sungari. Towards this river we proceeded, after leaving Aigun, and
arrived, as I have said, on the following day at Khabarofka, which may
now be called the military capital of the Sea-coast province.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] The Chinese applied to the eastern Mongols the name of _Dun-Khu_,
whence the name _Tunguses_. And wild they must have been in early
times, if the account be true that during the winter they lived in
subterraneous dwellings, and smeared their bodies with pigs’ fat to
protect themselves from cold. The first amelioration in their condition
is said to have been due to the conquests of the Coreans, who, in
their wars with China, made use of these northern neighbours. When,
however, the Coreans fell under the sway of the Chinese, in 677 A.D.,
the Tungusians, who were subsequently known as the Manchu, retired
northwards to the Shan-alin mountains. With the help of many Coreans,
they founded the empire of the Bokhai, and the country became one of
the most flourishing kingdoms on the eastern sea. The heirs of the
power of the Bokhai were the Jurjis, who founded the empire of Kin,
and were known as Kin, or Golden Tatars. They dominated over Northern
China in the 12th century, and were the ancestors of the Manchu. It is
not necessary to follow the vicissitudes of this kingdom through the
centuries that followed; but in 1618 the power of the Manchu was so
well established, that their king made war with China, and repeatedly
defeated the emperor. Some years later, a revolution broke out in
China, in the midst of which, in 1643, the emperor committed suicide;
whereupon the imperial party called in the aid of the Manchu, who
drove the rebels out of Peking. The Chinese general was then left to
pursue them further south, whilst the Manchu chief, finding the throne
vacant, took it for himself and kept it, and the Manchu dynasty reigns
in China to this day. These events were followed by very remarkable
consequences to the Manchu country and people; for though by conquest
they had gained a neighbouring throne, yet the Chinese managed so to
fuse their conquerors with themselves, and to get possession of their
country, that the Manchu, during the two centuries they have reigned
in China, may be said to have been working out their own annihilation.
Their manners, language, their very country has become Chinese, and
some maintain that the Manchu proper are now extinct.

[2] This part of the Amur was erected into a penal colony by the
Chinese Government soon after the evacuation of Albazin by the
Russians in 1680. Above and below Aigun are 25 or 30 clusters of
Manchu dwellings, some of the villages having from 10 to 50 or even
100 houses. In other cases the houses stand solitary, like the Cossack
picket-posts I afterwards passed on the Ussuri; and I presume they
serve the Chinese for the same purpose in watching the frontier. A
noticeable feature about these pickets is that, if there be only
a single habitation, there is in the corner of the garden a small
building like a sentry-box, which is a temple containing an idol or
picture, and where worship is offered.

[3] Three straw men of life-size are placed in a straight line, at
distances of 20 or 30 paces the one from the other. The mounted archer
is on a line with them about 15 feet from the first figure, his bow
bent, and his shaft upon the string. The signal being given, he puts
his horse to a gallop, and discharges his arrow at the first figure;
without checking his horse’s speed, he then takes a second arrow from
his quiver, places it to the bow, and discharges it at the second
figure, and so with the third; and all this while the horse is going at
full speed. From the first figure to the second the archer has barely
time for drawing his arrow, fixing, and discharging it; so that when
he shoots he has generally to turn somewhat on his saddle, and as to
the third shot he discharges it altogether in the old Parthian fashion.
Yet for a competitor to be deemed a good archer, says M. Huc, it is
essential that he should fire an arrow into every one of the three
figures.

[4] Mr. Knox was shown one of the temples of Aigun, which he describes
as a building 15 feet by 30 feet, with a red curtain at the door,
and a thick carpet of matting over a brick pavement. The altar being
veiled, the covering was lifted to allow him to see the inscription.
Several pictures adorned the walls, and there were lanterns painted in
gaudy colors. Outside also were paintings over the door, representing
Chinese landscapes. The windows were of lattice work, the roof had a
dragon’s head at each end of the ridge, and a Mosaic pavement extended
round the interior of the building. On the exterior of the Buddhist
temple we visited near Kiakhta, I observed a symbol in the form of two
deer standing on either side of a tree, but I did not notice it again
elsewhere.

[5] Their landing caused a great sensation, and the people gathered
in crowds. The Governor received them in a pavilion, and was dressed
in richly-figured silk robes, with the cap surmounted by a crystal
ball and peacocks’ feather. Refreshments were offered, and among them
small cups of samchoo or rice wine, and all they said was taken down by
scribes; but they were not permitted to visit the city. Previously to
this, Admiral Putiatin, of the Russian navy, defied the authorities,
and entered the city, as it were, sword in hand; for, permission having
been denied him on the pretence that he would not be safe against the
insults of the people, the admiral took with him four armed men, and
went through the streets. It was on a similar pretence that Mr. Collins
was diverted from his purpose.

CHAPTER XLIV.

_THE PRIMORSK OR SEA-COAST PROVINCE._

A story is told of a certain preacher who, on mounting his afternoon
pulpit, discovered he had brought again the manuscript from which
he preached in the morning, whereupon, rising to the occasion, he
announced his intention to redeliver the morning’s discourse; and,
said he, “_I have a particular reason for doing so._” History does not
relate what followed; but I would advertise the reader that I purpose
to treat more fully of the Primorsk than of the other provinces of
Siberia, and “I have a particular reason for doing so”; the “particular
reason” in my case being that I know, personally, a great deal more
of this province than of the rest. Through other regions I passed as
rapidly as possible, never continuing long in one place; but on the
sea-coast I lived, moved, and had my habitation for several weeks. I
was stationary simply because I could not get forward, and used my
leisure to read up Siberia and arrange notes. Moreover, I had the great
advantage of staying with persons who spoke English, who had lived in
Asiatic Russia for many years, who knew the country well, and could
therefore inform me upon Russian affairs. Nor was this all, for I
was brought in frequent contact with military and naval officers who
spoke French and English, and during my stay at Vladivostock was almost
a daily guest at the Governor’s house, and so was enabled to gather
information respecting the condition of the province from official
sources.

The Littoral, or Sea-coast province, which the Russians call “The
Primorsk,” is a strip of seaboard, beginning on the frontier of Corea,
and continuing northwards along the coast of Manchuria, round the Sea
of Okhotsk and Kamchatka, and terminating at the Chaunskaia Bay in
the Arctic Ocean, about 700 miles west of Behring’s Straits.[1] The
general aspect of the country is mountainous throughout. Along the
Manchurian coast, at a distance of from 25 to 80 miles of the sea, runs
the Sikhota-Alin range, a continuation of the Shangan-Alin mountains.
The western slope is the birthplace of many streams, which run into the
Lower Amur and Ussuri. The eastern slopes drain into the channel of
Tartary, those rivers entering the sea having a short course, and being
navigable only near the mouth. These mountains attain an elevation of
from 4,000 to 6,000 feet. West of the Okhotsk Sea runs the Stanovoi
range, which is a continuation of the tableland lying to the north of
the Amur, and is estimated, according to Mr. Ravenstein, as having
an elevation of from 1,000 to 2,000 feet, the highest peaks reaching
perhaps to 5,000 or 6,000 feet. Besides these ranges, there are in the
peninsula of Kamchatka nearly 40 mountains, evidently volcanic, though
not more than a dozen volcanoes now throw out scoria.

On the sea-coast are several bays suitable for harbours, which might
become of commercial importance if the district were sufficiently
colonized, and good means of communication opened over the mountains
and forests of the Littoral.[2]

The principal rivers of the province are the Ussuri, the Lower Amur,
with its largest tributary the Amgun, and in the far north the Anadir,
which runs into Behring’s Sea. The Primorsk has one or two lakes on the
Arctic Circle, also Lake Kizi, which almost connects the Lower Amur
with the Gulf of Tartary at Castries Bay, and Lake Khanka, the largest
of them all, out of which flows the Sungacha, an important affluent of
the Ussuri. What marshes there are in the province are found on the
left bank of the Amur.

The variations of climate must of course be very considerable over
a tract of country which in the north lies within the Arctic Circle
to the 70th parallel, whilst its most southerly point is nearer the
equator than the Pole, being situated in latitude 43°, as far south,
that is, as the Pyrenees. Of the 14 meteorological observatories
in Siberia, two are situated in the Primorsk, at Nikolaefsk and
Vladivostock. For meteorological information from further north we
are indebted to travellers, especially to Baron Nordenskiöld.[3] The
climate of Nikolaefsk cannot be recommended to those in search of a
mild one.[4] During the eight months of winter keen winds prevail,
bringing snowstorms of such violence and density that I heard of a
man losing himself in crossing the street from the club to his own
house. The snow lies frequently from four to five feet deep. I stayed
at Nikolaefsk from the 13th to the 30th August, during which time the
summer was unusually cold. On several days it rained, and, when taking
an evening stroll, I did not feel an Ulster coat too warm.[5]

Descending ten degrees further south to Vladivostock, we find the
summer extending to six and a half months, but with an annual
temperature about ten degrees lower than at Marseilles, which is on the
same parallel.[6]

Thus it will be seen that even in the most southerly portion of the
Primorsk the winter climate is severe. The Bay of Peter the Great, it
is true, is not frozen at a certain distance from the shore at any
period of the year; yet ice is formed upon its creeks and inlets at
the beginning of December, and for more than a hundred days ships are
locked in the port of Vladivostock. On the other hand, the summer heat
on the Manchurian coast is very great, and rises in the port of Olga to
more than 96°.

The climate of the Lower Primorsk is more than commonly dependent on
two influences: that of the prevailing winds, and of the temperature
of the neighbouring seas. The warm Kuro Scivo, or Japan current, soon
after it passes the Loo Choo islands, divides, and a small part enters
the Sea of Japan, and, skirting its eastern shore, passes out through
La Perouse Strait to reunite itself with the main stream that has kept
to the eastward of the Japan archipelago. Under the name of “the North
Pacific drift,” this Japan current afterwards passes a little south
of the Kurile and Aleutian Isles, and then turns southward along the
western coast of North America. From the north-east corner of the Sea
of Okhotsk two cold currents start and run--the one along the coast of
the mainland of Siberia, the other down the west side of Kamchatka.
Sakhalin is thus on both shores washed by these cold waters, which
continue their course southward along the western shore of the Sea of
Japan, round the Corea, past the entrance of the Yellow-Sea, until,
near the island of Formosa, they mingle with the monsoon drifts of the
China Sea. The effect of this body of cold water along the Siberian
coast is obvious, and we find the winter climate far more severe
than in corresponding latitudes on the western side of the Pacific
or in the Niphon, and the southern islands of Japan. The prevailing
winds in winter are from the north and east, and, passing as they
do over this same cold sea-water, they get chilled, and add to the
rigour of the season. In summer the winds are generally from the west
and south-west, and in July the south-west monsoon even extends to
the Sea of Okhotsk; and the temperature is abnormally above that of
corresponding latitudes. If, however, the climate of the Lower Primorsk
and of Eastern Siberia is remarkable for its extremes of cold and heat,
drought and humidity, it has at least the advantage of regularity in
its yearly progress, and has none of the abrupt changes of temperature
met with in Western Siberia. The dry cold of winter, the humid heat of
summer, are maintained without sudden changes.[7]

To the phenomena of the particular climate of the sea-coast correspond
naturally the distinctive features of its fauna and flora. The forests
one passes through in the basin of the Amur are not, like the _taigas_,
sloping towards the Frozen Ocean, composed uniformly of the same
species of conifers; but the kinds of trees are very diverse, though
their distribution is little varied. With the fir, pitch pine, cedar,
and larch are mixed not only the Russian birch, but also the oak,
elm, hornbeam, ash, maple, lime, and poplar, some of which grow to
the height of 100 feet, with trunks more than a yard in diameter.
The bark of the larch is almost as valuable to the tanner as that of
oak, and also produces the substance called Venice turpentine, which
flows abundantly when the lower parts of the trunks of old trees are
wounded. A kind of marrow also exudes from its leaves in the shape
of white flakes, which are ultimately converted into small lumps.
In the southern parts of the Ussuri country, and on the slopes of
the Sikhota Alin, deciduous trees outnumber the conifers. The forest
pines are often draped with wild vines, whose grapes ripen, though
the cultivation of the vine has not yet been successful. On the Upper
Ussuri the Chinese have plantations of ginseng. In the woods grow
hazels, peach trees, and wild pears; and what orchards there yet are
about the villages show that the Ussuri district might become, for the
product of fruits, one of the richest countries in the world.

But the glory of the Lower Primorsk is the wealth of herbaceous plants
which grow on the alluvial soils on the banks and the islands of its
rivers. Umbelliferous plants, mugwort, roses, cereals of various kinds,
form a mass of vegetation to the height of 8 or 9 feet, penetrable only
axe in hand, or along the track of some wild animal. The wild boar, the
stag, the roebuck hide themselves in these tall herbs better even than
in the forest. The tiger as well as the panther inhabit the bushy
herbage of the Ussuri, and there meet also the bear and the sable. Thus
the representatives of the south mingle with those from the north in
this rich fauna, belonging at once to Siberia and to China.

[Illustration: THE SIBERIAN LARCH.]

As regards the inhabitants of the Sea-coast province, in the south are
Chinese, Manzas, Tazas, and Coreans, who are constantly travelling,
and so cannot well be counted; but, calculating from the registers
of births and deaths, their number is estimated at 62,000. North of
these, on the Ussuri, are the Goldi, and, on the Lower Amur, another
race called Gilyaks, of whom I shall hereafter speak particularly.
Proceeding round the Sea of Okhotsk, we come to the territories of the
Lamuti, Tunguses, and Yakutes; and then reaching the north-east corner
of Siberia, we have three other peoples--the Kamchatdales to the south
of the peninsula, with the Koriaks above them, and furthest north the
Chukchees. Besides these might be mentioned a few Orochi about the
mouth of the Amur, and the Aïnos of Sakhalin and the Kurile islands.
Owing to the wandering habits of these tribes, no census can be
obtained, but from the church books their number, including both sexes,
is estimated at 44,000.[8]

The province is divided into seven uyezds, and the principal towns,
beginning from the south, are Vladivostock, Khabarofka, Sophiisk,
Nikolaefsk, Ayan, Okhotsk, and Petropavlovsk. The Littoral was erected
into a province in 1857, and placed under a Governor who was at once
Admiral of the Fleet, Commander of the military forces, and Head of
Civil Affairs; and this was the condition of things in 1879--Admiral
Erdmann being Governor, and residing at Vladivostock. The military
command, however, has since been separated, and given to General
Tichmeneff, who resides, I am told, at Khabarofka.

Proceeding now to the natural products of the Primorsk, and the sources
of sustenance to its population, we find that agriculture holds a very
different place in the upper, middle, and lower parts of the country.
The Upper Primorsk extends from Behring’s Straits down to Nikolaefsk,
and produces no corn. The inhabitants live by hunting, the fur trade,
or on grain supplied by the Government.

The Middle Primorsk extends from Nikolaefsk to Khabarofka, which means
virtually the basin of the Lower Amur. Only the Russian subjects till
the ground, the total cereal produce for the year 1878 being 327 tons,
together with 811 tons of potatoes. The cost of meat in this district
is from 5_d._ to 9_d._ per English pound, according to the season.
The Lower or Southern Primorsk is populated by Ussuri Cossacks, and
by voluntary and involuntary settlers. This is the most productive
part of the province, the yield for 1878 being more than 1,000 tons of
corn and 800 tons of potatoes. Meat costs from 4_d._ to 6_d._ per lb.
Three qualities of wheaten flour are used throughout the Primorsk--the
first and second of which are imported from America. About 15,000
fifty-pound bags (say 330 tons) are sold yearly in Nikolaefsk, the best
costing from 4_d._ to 6_d._ per lb., the second from 3_d._ to 3½_d._,
and the third quality, grown at home, from 1½_d._ to 2½_d._ per lb.
The price of rye-flour at Nikolaefsk and Sophiisk varies from 1½_d._
to 2_d._ per lb. On the Ussuri it costs rather less, and north of
Nikolaefsk 2_d._ per lb. is asked.

[Illustration: A DVORNIK, OR RUSSIAN HOUSE-PORTER.]

Throughout the province the price of fish is from 9_s._ to 24_s._ per
cwt.; butter (not fresh) costs from 10_d._ to 1_s._ 1½_d._ per lb.;
black tea from 2_s._ to 4_s._ the Russian pound, and brick tea from
10_d._ to 1_s._ 2_d._ The price of sugar varies from 6_d._ to 8_d._
per lb. Labour throughout the Littoral is scarce. The cost for a man
and horse in summer is 6_s._ per day, but in winter 30_s._ a month and
hay for the horse. At Nikolaefsk a man earns 3_s._ as a day’s wage;
a _dvornik_, or night-watchman, gets as much as £3 10_s._ a month
without board, and a man-servant £2 10_s._ a month and his food. At
Vladivostock, convict women for domestic servants are paid from 16_s._
to 30_s._ a month board wages; mechanics earn from 3_s._ to 4_s._ a
day, and common labourers 2_s._ This last is a decided advance on the
18_s._ or 20_s._ a month paid to the wharf-porters at Nijni Novgorod,
who live, however, on 8_s._ a month, eating little but bread and
_stchee_, the latter being made of good beef, with an allowance of one
pound of meat for each person. A half-drunken man at Nijni told me
boastfully that in good times he could earn nearly 2_s._ a day; but
just then he could get no regular work, and so he said he had taken to
drink!

In addition to the home produce of the Primorsk, the Government also
imports largely in anticipation of bad seasons and famine, and for the
military.[9] They have, too, in this province a fund for loan to the
aborigines to the annual amount of nearly £3,000, and rather more than
this sum as a reserve fund for famine purposes.

I gathered from an official report in manuscript, which I was
courteously permitted to see, some account of the taxes of the
province. Personal taxes are paid in the north in money or in furs. In
money, in 1878, was paid £28, and in furs the value of nearly £800.
The whole of the settlers in the Amur district were to be free from
personal taxes, land taxes, and recruiting up to 1881. Hence the land
taxes of the province amounted to only £90.[10]

The report above quoted also treated of the health of the people, from
which I noticed that vaccination throughout the province had not been
wholly successful, partly for want of good vaccine, and partly from the
lack of persons qualified to perform the operation. This latter was not
greatly to be wondered at, seeing that the yearly remuneration attached
to the appointment of district vaccinator was only two guineas, while
the work involved much and difficult travelling. In the _towns_ from
which reports had come, it appeared that of 375 persons vaccinated,
only seven cases had failed.

The total number of (I presume _civil_) patients through the province
in 1878 was 319 (215 males and 104 females), of whom 247 recovered,
40 died, 32 were still under treatment; the average time spent in the
hospital by each completed case being 31⅓ days.[11]

The Siberians generally are said to be remarkably strong and robust,
for which the reason has been suggested that all the weakly babies are
killed by the climate. What truth there may be in this I know not, but
in a table given me by the priest of Vladivostock, showing at what ages
had occurred the 102 deaths in his parish, for 1878, it was seen that
58, or more than one-half, died under five years of age; and of these,
37 attained to less than the age of 12 months. Further, 24 died between
the ages of 25 and 40, and only four exceeded the age of 50.

The report went on to speak of the civil affairs of the province, its
public institutions and communications, the morality of the people and
their religious dissensions, the prisons[12] and statistics concerning
fire[13] and floods; but I need enlarge no further upon the Primorsk
as a whole. It has been already pointed out that the country can be
best described in three sections,--the Upper or Northern portion, the
Lower or Southern portion, and the Middle Primorsk, corresponding
roughly to the basin of the Lower Amur, to the description of which
last I shall now proceed.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] From this point its inland border runs along the crests of
the Stanovoi range to the 55th degree of latitude, then continues
southwards to the Little Khingan mountains, thence in a line to the
Ussuri and Sungacha, through Lake Khanka, and so to Corea. The length
of the province from north to south exceeds 2,300 miles. Its widest
part, taken at right angles from the shore, does not exceed 400 miles,
whilst at its narrowest, on the Sea of Okhotsk, the western border in
some places is not more than 30 miles inland. The area of the province
is 733,000 square miles, or about six times as large as the British
possessions in Europe.

[2] Thus there are, beginning in the south, Vladivostock and
Paseat, and continuing up the Manchurian coast past Olga, Vladimir,
and Barracouta Bays, we have De Castries Bay, 135 miles south of
Nikolaefsk. De Castries was discovered and surveyed by La Perouse in
1787. It affords good and safe anchorage, and is a kind of ocean port
to Nikolaefsk. Other ports further north are Ayan and Okhotsk, and
Petropavlovsk in Kamchatka, Olga, Vladivostock, and Paseat are called
“open ports,” but all of them in winter are ice-bound, unless it be
Paseat, which is not much frozen, nor for long.

[3] Where the Vega was frozen in, west of Behring’s Straits, the
temperature sank before the 28th November to 14°·8 below zero, and
the newly-formed ice was already two feet thick. On Christmas Day the
temperature fell to 31°, and in January to 50°·8, both below zero;
whilst the average temperatures for October, November, December,
and January were 22°·6 and 2°·1 above, and 9° and 13°·2 below zero
respectively.

[4] At Nikolaefsk, in August 1877, the temperature reached no higher
than 82°·8, and sank to 45°·5, the mean temperature of the month being
61°·9. The greatest heat of the year was 88°·2, and occurred in July,
and the greatest cold registered was in February, when the thermometer
fell to 26°·9 below zero. The mean temperature for the year was only
30·2.

[5] On the night of August 19th, the thermometer registered 45°·5, and
during the preceding day had not risen above 50°. At Greenwich, on the
same date, the thermometer registered 49°·7 in the night, and 70° on
the preceding day.

[6] The maximum temperature at Vladivostock, in August 1877, was 89°·1
(the highest of the year); and the minimum was 57°, the mean for the
month being 68°·7. In January the degrees of cold registered were 10°·8
below zero, and the mean temperature for the year was 41°·5.

[7] In the least rainy month, for instance, February, the
precipitation, whether of snow or rain, represents at Nertchinsk Zavod
only one fifty-eighth part of the rainfall of the wet season. So again
at Vladivostock the difference between the snowfall of winter and the
rainfall of summer is still greater, the snow representing a quantity
about 840 times less than the rain. In 1858, Venyukoff experienced
on the Ussuri 45 consecutive wet days, and the annual rains drench
the harvests of the Cossacks of the Ussuri, who have not yet learned
to imitate the Chinese in accommodating their agriculture to the
alternations of the seasons.

[8] These statistics are taken from the Government books, and they
refer to the native population. The Almanack for 1880 gives to the
province 76 populated places, and the number of the Russian inhabitants
was handed to me at Nikolaefsk, from Government sources, as 20,000,
made up of 10,000 naval and military, 1,200 Government officials,
1,800 townspeople, and 7,000 peasants. In the whole province in
1878 the number of (Russian) marriages was 223, excluding those of
soldiers and convicts. The number of births was 1,322, of which 96 were
illegitimate; and the number of deaths 545 males and 447 females, in
all 992, giving a net increase of 330 to the Russian population.

[9] In 1878, salt, rice, and millet were imported to the value of
£25,000. To the southern part of the province salt comes from China.
The northern part is supplied by a Government contract with a merchant
who has a monopoly up to 1887 for rye, salt, gunpowder, and lead. For
the supply of the soldiers, the Government imported also overland 636
tons of rye; of oatmeal, 285 tons; and by sea 1,400 tons of rye, and
280 tons of oatmeal. The average cost of flour to the Government is at
Sakhalin 4_s._ 3_d._ and at Vladivostock 3_s._ 9_d._ the pood.

[10] For municipal taxes, police, roads, etc., were paid at Nikolaefsk,
£1,582; Vladivostock, £1,500; Sophiisk, £140; Petropavlovsk, £70;
Okhotsk, £15; and Ghijiga, £11; that is, about £3,320 together. The
excise taxes, however, were far higher--namely, for imported liquors,
£9,500; home-made beer, etc., £37; home-made liquors, £569; licences,
£1,569; fines, £52; duty for _growing_ tobacco, 6_s._, and for selling
it, £269; and tobacco fines, £20. This shows an excise income from the
province of £12,000, being a decrease on foreign liquors, compared with
the previous year, of £4,600, and an increase on home-made liquors of
£439; but an increase for licences of £150, and £15 for fines.

[11] The most frequent maladies were inflammation of the lungs, bowels,
and womb, and heart disease. Under the head of epidemics it seemed that
during the year typhoid fever broke out at Nikolaefsk and carried off
21 men. A like visitation, lasting for 18 days, in the Khanka district
caused about the same number of deaths. At Sophiisk and Udskoi 248
men were struck down, of whom, however, 244 recovered. The deaths by
accident and suicide in the province amounted to 21, ten more than in
the preceding year.

[12] Criminals and their crimes in the Sea-coast Province for five
years, 1874-1878.

1874. 1875. 1876. 1877. 1878. Total.
Male. Fm. Totl.

Sacrilege or ecclesiastical
offences 1 2 3 3

Offences against the Government
and insubordination to
authorities 4 2 6 1 13 24 2 26

Breaking prison bounds, running
away, and liberating others 9 8 38 43 13 109 2 111

Offences against excise laws 12 3 1 2 2 20 20

Offences against mercantile
laws 4 4 5 11 2 13

Vagrancy, harbouring vagabonds,
and offences against passport
laws 13 10 80 22 38 157 6 163

Murder 3 8 14 7 12 37 7 44

Wounding and other kinds of
violence 2 2 15 3 11 30 3 33

Personal insult and assault 10 2 5 8 12 35 2 37

Robbery 8 6 62 28 28 127 5 132

Rascality 3 3 11 6 16 36 3 39

Embezzlement and fraud 1 1 4 1 7 7

Forgery, or counterfeiting notes 8 7 1 8

Bigamy 5 3 2 5

Offences against marriage laws 2 1 1 2

Arson 1 1 1
---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ----
Totals 64 50 239 129 162 608 36 644

[13] The three fire-engine establishments, maintained at a cost of £534
per annum, are situated at Petropavlovsk, Nikolaefsk, and Vladivostock,
their plant consisting of three steam and three manual engines, 26
horses, and 13 water-carts.

CHAPTER XLV.

_THE LOWER AMUR._

Approaching Khabarofka on the evening of August 8th, I thought that my
journeys on the Amur were ended. I had refused advice that I should
go on to Nikolaefsk, my great object being to reach Vladivostock as
quickly as possible, there embark for Japan, and thence proceed to
America. As to how this could be accomplished no definite information
was forthcoming. Something was said at Blagovestchensk about a
steamer called the _Dragon_, and her periodical trips between China,
Japan, Vladivostock, Sakhalin, and Nikolaefsk. Merchant ships also
were reported to leave the Siberian ports from time to time, as also
men-of-war, returning southwards after spending the summer months out
of the heat of the tropics. My friends, therefore, at the telegraph
station promised to inquire what ships were to leave Vladivostock,
and I was to learn the reply on arriving at Khabarofka. A new factor,
however, was added to my calculations by Baron Stackelberg, my
fellow-passenger, who understood that his friend, Professor Milne,
was staying at Vladivostock. The Baron had telegraphed thither to his
agent to inquire of the professor if he were “_plein de voyage_,” and
if so, whether he would proceed by sea to meet him at Nikolaefsk for a
pleasure tour, and then accompany him to Kamchatka. The Baron expected
to find a telegram at Khabarofka, and then, said he, “If Mr. Milne come
by the _Dragon_ to Nikolaefsk, it will be better for you to go there
with me, and take the boat on its return to Sakhalin, Vladivostock,
and Japan, or you may otherwise have to wait at Vladivostock until the
_Dragon_ returns.”

Such were our thoughts as we approached Khabarofka, where, on arriving,
I found, to my dismay, that the Ussuri boat had grown tired of waiting
for us, and had gone, and that another would not start for three
days.[1] No message awaited me at Khabarofka, and from the Baron’s
telegram it seemed that Mr. Milne was not at Vladivostock, but that the
_Dragon_ had just left, or was about to leave, for Nikolaefsk, to which
port, however, there was no steamer proceeding from Khabarofka for
several days. I was, therefore, in a dilemma. If I went south, I might
have to wait a month for the _Dragon_; and if I stayed for the river
steamer to Nikolaefsk, I might lose the _Dragon_, and thus go 1,250
miles out of my way. I fell asleep that night not knowing what to do,
hoping that with morning light the way might be clearer. On waking, I
learned that the Baron had been to the agents and taken them to task
because the steamer going north to Nikolaefsk had also not waited the
arrival of our boat as announced. So successfully had he stormed,
according to his own account, that the agent had ordered the _Zeya_,
instead of going back, to go forward to Nikolaefsk.

At no previous point in my journey had I felt it so hard to decide
what to do for the best. On leaving England, my tour had been planned
to last three months, a period I had already exceeded, while more
than half the globe remained to be traversed. I had, moreover, left
in the hands of others editorial duties that called for my return,
and now there seemed the possibility of prolonged delay. I looked up
most earnestly for wisdom, and determined to be guided by the Baron’s
advice. Gloomy rumours had reached me of the sad condition of the
Sakhalin prisoners, and I asked the Baron whether he thought it at
all likely that if I went to the island, and afterwards sent a report
to the authorities, it might tend to better the prisoners’ condition.
He first asked me gravely, though somewhat to my amusement, whether
what I was doing was likely to bring the governments of our respective
countries into collision, and then, on being assured that I was acting
simply as a private individual, he told me that at Vladivostock I
should get no information or statistics respecting Sakhalin, since
the books were kept at Nikolaefsk, to which place, therefore, he
recommended me to go. Accordingly, fortified with the hope of being
useful, I decided to do this; but it was not without many misgivings,
though out of that decision sprang results for which afterwards I was
deeply grateful. I did not find the _Dragon_, and had ultimately to
retrace my steps to Khabarofka; but my going to Nikolaefsk led to the
better distribution of more than 12,000 tracts and several Scriptures,
and afforded me glimpses of heathen life for which I shall ever be
thankful.

The boat was not to start till noon, and this gave me leisure to see
something of our stopping-place. Khabarofka stands on a promontory, at
the junction of the Amur with the Ussuri, and overlooks both streams
from the top of the bluff, in which, in this direction, the Khoekhtsi
hills, running at right angles from the coast, terminate. The position
is well chosen for a military post, and the town is not without
importance commercially. There are several stores, and the merchants
trade with the aborigines of the north in furs to the value of £30,000
a year. Whilst calling on a merchant with whom I had travelled, there
entered a Chinaman with what looked like a number of dried rabbit-skins
hung on his arm. They proved to be sable-skins, almost as they come
from the animals’ backs, turned inside out. In this condition the
natives barter them to the Chinese, who, in turn, sell them to the
merchants, some of whom are agents for large firms in Petersburg and
Moscow. On this occasion the Chinaman asked seven silver roubles,
or a guinea, for each skin, which showed that they were not of high
quality.[2]

Besides the stores in Khabarofka there is an establishment where
they employ 50 men and build steamers, etc., to the value of £10,000
yearly. One of the principal agents of the Steamboat Company lives in
the place, drawing a salary of £500 a year, which is thought there a
handsome income; but he told me he could not remain, since there was
no school near for the education of his children. On entering the
post-office, there were to be seen in a large chest, bags, not to say
sacks, full of silver roubles, the guardianship of which seemed fully
to justify the presence of an armed Cossack, one of whose cloth is
always found keeping watch in the post-office and over the mail-bags in
transit. The post-office, in fact, is a quasi bank, for on arriving at
Nikolaefsk I found that my host kept his banking account 6,000 miles
distant, at Petersburg. He paid in his money at the local post-office,
and then telegraphed to the capital, upon which his bankers gave him
credit for the deposit. There are State banks in Siberia, at Tomsk,
Krasnoiarsk, and Irkutsk; but, from the narrow escape I had at Tomsk of
being delayed in getting my cash, I was thankful for having exchanged
my money in Petersburg for a number of hundred-rouble notes, which I
carried in a pocket-girdle.[3]

At Khabarofka I visited the garden of one of the merchants, said to
be the best in the place. It was 10 years old, full of apple and pear
trees, but they were wild ones, transplanted eight years before. None
of the apples were so large as a good English crab, and the “Bergamot”
pears were as small. The latter tasted something like the quince, and
were useless except to preserve for eating with roast meat. Among
other trees were the walnut, the acacia, the bird-cherry, a thorn with
a berry larger than is commonly seen in England, called _résan_; the
_boyarka_ or service tree, with bunches of berries like grapes (called
_calina_), and the beech. Among the shrubs, plants, and flowers were
maize, wild white lilac, raspberries, currants, and strawberries,
dahlias, verbenas, wild pæonies, stocks, carnations, and pinks; and
among climbers the wild pea, and the Siberian vinegar plant. These,
with other flowers, of which I did not know the names, made a fair show
for Khabarofka, where the cold winds begin in the middle of September,
and snow covers the ground from November to March. In the neighbourhood
were abundance of trees common to a temperate region, such as the oak,
maple, alder, larch, pine, poplar, willow, and lime. Some prettily
overhung the river’s bank, which was enlivened with boats drawn up by
Manchu and Chinese, some of whom were selling excellent French beans,
whilst others were engaged in making and mending shoes.

Having thus made the most of my time at Khabarofka, I once more boarded
the _Zeya_, on Saturday noon, for a voyage of 626 miles to Nikolaefsk,
in the course of which we were to pass, though not necessarily to stop
at, 52 stations. Some were native villages, the names of which had been
adopted by the Russians; others were Russian settlements with Sclavonic
names; whilst other stations bore double titles, both Russian and
native.

The basin of the Lower Amur is bounded on the west by the Bureya
mountains, between which and the river lies a flat and partially
swampy country; whilst on the east its limit is the coast range
already referred to as the Sikhota Alin. The course of the river is
north-east. Its principal tributaries flowing in on the left or western
bank are the Kur, Girin, and Amgun; on the right bank, the Dondon and
the Khungar. The largest of these on the left bank is the Amgun; the
largest on the right is the Dondon, which is 500 yards wide at its
mouth. At Khabarofka, the Amur has a width of 900 yards; and as we
steamed away, the right bank stood out in contrast to the left, which
was flat; but after proceeding 20 miles, the character of the scenery
changed. Both banks became flat, islands were numerous, and the stream
widened to five miles. This kind of scenery continued for the rest of
the day, and our evening progress was highly enjoyable, varied now and
then by the appearance of the summer yourts of the natives, or the
lonely post-stations, deserted in summer, where horses are kept in
winter, when the river is frozen and transformed into a road. At the
confluence of the Dondon, the river has soundings up to 37 feet, and
the channel measures three miles in breadth. This is the widest part
of the river without intervening islands, though 17 miles lower, where
the left bank is marshy and dotted with lakes, the entire width extends
to 12 miles.[4]

At Viatskoy, 50 miles from Khabarofka, I stayed on my return journey,
and was offered a sturgeon a yard long, which a man had caught, and
was keeping in the river tied by a string beneath the gills. Of the
fish caught on the Lower Amur, the Russians think very highly of
the sterlet, and the sturgeon is costly. For this small specimen at
Viatskoy was asked 2_s._ 6_d._, but in Moscow they said it would fetch
£1. They sometimes catch sturgeon weighing from 200 to 300 lbs., and
the dried bones and cleansed gelatinous entrails of this fish form a
prominent article of commerce between the natives and the Manchu. The
bones cost in Manchuria, for culinary purposes, nearly 4_s._ per lb.,
and the gelatine in Moscow 7_s._ per lb.

In latitude 50° N., the Amur receives on the left bank, from Lake
Bolan, an affluent 900 yards wide and 30 feet deep. Hills now rise on
both banks, and at Perm (or Milku) the depth of the river increases
to between 50 and 60 feet. At Tambofsk, 280 miles from Khabarofka,
the banks become mountainous on either side, the river contracts to
an average width of a mile and a third, and soundings often reach to
90 feet; and thus the river continues, for a distance of 60 miles,
to Zherebtsofsk. From Zherebtsofsk to Sophiisk, the scenery changes
again, the river enlarges, runs between numerous islands and several
sandbanks, and at Sophiisk its depth is nearly 50 feet.

Our company on board was small in number, which was to be expected,
seeing that the boat was a “special.” In the first-class there were
only three persons besides the Baron and myself, namely, M. Kruskopf,
the telegraph inspector, an advocate, and with him a young man dressed
like a Russian shopkeeper. The last two I had observed among the
second-class passengers from Kara. We were now brought into closer
contact. The advocate spoke French, and I gathered from him that the
young man was his client, whose father had recently died, leaving him
£20,000. They were come from Central Russia to realize the money, for
which the advocate, since he would be occupied at least all the summer,
was to have the modest fee of £3,000.[5]

On the morning after leaving Khabarofka, M. Kruskopf left the boat to
visit the station at Troitzkoy, but he did not forget me; for, unasked,
he telegraphed to Nikolaefsk to his friends, told them I was coming,
and requested them to look after my welfare. The day was Sunday, and
I enjoyed a quiet morning in my cabin; and in the afternoon we had
steamed 170 miles--to Malmejskoy. Here we saw on the bank some Goldi,
who called to my mind pictures I had seen of North American Indians.
Some of them had a cross suspended from the neck, which in their
case had a meaning; for those who wore it thus were baptized, and so
distinguished from the pagan Goldi. I gave a few tracts among these
people, and in return received, in one of the villages, a curious
salutation. Offering an illuminated text to a little girl, her mother
directed her to express her thanks by crossing her hands with the palms
uppermost, and then go down on all-fours at my feet with her head to
the ground.

At Tambofsk, or Girin, 280 miles further, was a village where, on the
return journey in the beginning of September, I bought melons and ripe
black currants, the latter good, but with less taste than those grown
in England. Other berries, tart but juicy, were offered for sale.
Here, too, were lying on the bank some drunken gold-miners, whom the
captain refused to take on board in that condition, leaving them till
he should call again three weeks later, by which time possibly they
might be sober and wiser. I met gold capitalists both at Nikolaefsk and
at Vladivostock; but from the report sent to the Emperor concerning the
Primorsk, it appeared that in 1878 only 600 lbs. of gold were washed
throughout the province, the small quantity being set down to the lack
of workmen. At Tambofsk we passed out of the district inhabited by the
Goldi, and entered that of a distinct though somewhat similar tribe,
called the Gilyaks, of both of whom I shall speak hereafter.

The next place of note to which we came, 412 miles from Khabarofka, was
Sofiisk, from which there is a road 33 miles long by the shore of Kizi
Lake to the coast at De Castries Bay. Light draught steamboats can go
within 12 miles or less of De Castries; and as the navigation of the
mouth of the Amur is difficult, it was at one time proposed to make a
canal, or a railway, to connect the lake with the sea. Surveys were
made by Mr. Romanoff, but the plan is not likely to be carried out.
The steamer passed Sofiisk on my first journey, but in returning we
stayed for a couple of hours; and as there was a prison in the place,
I presented my letters, and requested to be allowed to see it. Also
I gave to the Commandant of the 5th East Siberian battalion, Colonel
Ussofovitch, who was stationed there, a box of books and tracts,
with a letter in French, asking that they might be distributed among
his soldiers. The colonel did not know French, and a young officer,
who called himself the “procureur” of the battalion, was called in
to interpret. What this gentleman’s precise office was, I could not
exactly make out, but it seemed to be something between that of a judge
and a military head police-master. He took me to see the building,
where, to my surprise, were 150 prisoners, many of whom, however, were
on their way to Sakhalin. The wooden planking of the footways in the
town was miserably out of order, and I hinted to the procureur that
since they had insufficient work for the prisoners, it would be well to
employ them in repairing the pavements. This idea seemed never to have
struck him, and he replied at once that he would consider the matter.
The procureur spoke French fluently, though with a Russian accent,
and he knew something also of the dead languages, Hebrew among them.
He said that he had studied this language in prospect of becoming a
priest; but that, when he could not see his way to £200 a year in the
church, he had entered the army, which, he said, “paid” better. In this
case, it seemed to me, the Russian Church, by reason of its miserable
emoluments, had lost to her clergy a youth of greater intellectual
culture than the majority of her priests. The population of Sofiisk
was given me as 700 military and 300 civilians, amongst whom I found
a ready sale for the Scriptures. At the telegraph office complaints
reached me, as at Khabarofka, that they had no means of educating their
children, there being no local school.

The Amur at Sofiisk is nearly two miles wide; seven miles lower it
expands to upwards of four miles. Thirteen miles beyond, the banks
are low, flat, and marshy; but the land is good, and is cultivated
by Russian settlers. Here, too, is the town of Mariinsk, the oldest
Russian settlement, next to Nikolaefsk, on the Lower Amur, and situated
on the right bank of the river, at the entrance to the Kizi Lake.[6]

[Illustration: A RUSSIAN PRIEST IN WINTER DRESS.]

Mariinsk was founded by the Russian-American company in the same
year with Nikolaefsk, and was a trading post until the military
occupation of the river. Difficulties of navigation diminished its
military importance, and the post was transferred to Sofiisk, founded
in 1858. On an island opposite Mariinsk is the trace of a fort,
built by Stepanof, the Cossack adventurer, who descended the Amur in
1654. During the winter he remained here he collected nearly 5,000
sable-skins as tribute. On our return journey we took in at this place,
as passengers, a priest, his wife, and son; the lady being the daughter
of the late Metropolitan Innokente of Moscow, the wonderful priest who,
travelling 8,000 miles, crossed Siberia with his translations of a
portion of the New Testament into the language of the Kuriles, and then
took them back in print. This lady seems to have inherited something
of her father’s enterprise, for I have heard recently from a friend
that he met her travelling in Western Siberia.

Mr. Collins mentions that from Mariinsk is seen, to the south-west,
a very high mountain, with much snow upon it; and Mr. Ravenstein
observes that a few miles below Tambofsk, or Girin, may be seen the
craggy summits of mountain ranges, at greater or less distance from
the river, covered, in places, as late as June with snow. It was
after June when I passed down the stream, but I saw mountains to the
left with what looked like snow-drifts, or corries filled with snow.
My fellow-passengers, however, and especially the Baron, stoutly
maintained that I was mistaken, and that what we saw was either chalk
or an effect of light. The formation of the rocks on some of the
mountain crests was very remarkable, and they were arrayed in such
straight lines, here and there, that they looked like the building of
Titans rather than Nature’s handiwork.

Passing Mariinsk we reached Mikhailofsky, a distance of 526 miles from
Khabarofka, on Monday afternoon,--that is to say, in about 48 hours,
which was more rapid travelling than the captain had accomplished on
the Shilka and Upper Amur. A merchant afterwards whispered to me,
however, that it was reckless navigation. The captain had not made the
passage before; so, placing a man in the bows with the measuring-rod,
and rising above all questions as to where the channel lay, he just
shot ahead, suspecting no ill where no ill seemed. Fortunately we ran
on neither rocks nor shoals, but I was exhorted to be thankful that
we had not come to grief. Had we been allowed to proceed at this rate
we should have reached Nikolaefsk in another 24 hours, but a telegram
awaited the captain at Mikhailofsky to say that another boat of the
company was coming up from Nikolaefsk, for which he was to wait, then
exchange cargoes and passengers, and return. This involved a delay of
30 hours, which gave me an opportunity of visiting a settlers’ village,
the priest of which informed me that he had in his parish 400 persons,
of whom only 15 could read. The forest in the neighbourhood has been
cleared, and rye, barley, and oats are successfully cultivated. So,
too, are vegetables on the river’s bank, for the market at Nikolaefsk.
Cucumbers were just coming in, and the people were eating them like
apples. When the Baron and I made a morning call at one of the houses,
they simply brought forth cucumbers and salt wherewith to regale us.
I saw, too, in this village a curious specimen of Russian economy.
Not able to purchase whole panes of window-glass, the peasants had
used fragments of any form they could get, and fixed them with pieces
of birch bark, cut to the shape. Mikhailofsky, however, was not a
flourishing village, and it must be added that the colonies of the
Lower Amur are generally the least prosperous in the country.

Late on Tuesday evening the promised steamship _Onon_ arrived, and
I left the _Zeya_, in which I had spent the previous 16 days, and
travelled 1,900 miles. Next morning we arrived at a Gilyak village,
called Mukhal, near to some hot springs which are said to be beneficial
in cases of rheumatism, syphilis, diarrhœa, and goitre. The Polish
exile, in whose charge they are, is allowed their monopoly, and the
Government gives him a grant of £50 a year. About mid-day we passed
another Gilyak village called Tyr. The Amur here contracts to 900
yards, and from a bold cliff, 100 feet high on the right bank, a fine
view is obtained up stream. The river’s banks spread to a width of
five miles, and well-wooded islands lie between. To the south are
dark forests and mountain ridges, and at the back of the cliff is a
tableland several miles broad. On the opposite bank enters the river
Amgun, which rises in the Bureya mountains, and, after a course of not
less than 700 miles, flows into the Amur through a delta covered with
forest.

The cliff at Tyr is interesting to the archæologist by reason of
its Tatar monuments with inscriptions, the history of which appears
somewhat doubtful.[7]

I went ashore to examine these monuments, of which Mr. Ravenstein
mentions four--one with a granite base, and the upper portion of grey,
fine-grained marble, and another of porphyry resting on an octagonal
pedestal. Unfortunately, I could stay only a very short time, as the
steamer did not wait. I found two monuments near the edge of the cliff,
with characters cut thereon. A third is about 400 yards to the east,
on a more elevated point, and on a bare rock foundation. The principal
one, which I examined most, resembles a thick upright tombstone, about
five feet high. The Archimandrite Avvakum says everything proves
that the spot where the monument is standing was once the site of
a temple devoted to the worship of Buddha, and in Chinese language
was called “_Youn-nen-se_”--that is, the “Temple of Eternal Repose.”
The two inscriptions on either side--one in Chinese and the other in
Mongolian--were written, he thinks, by some illiterate Mongol lama, not
thoroughly acquainted with Chinese grammar. On the left-hand side are
the Sanscrit words, “_Om-mani-badme-houm_” in Thibetan letters; and
beneath, in Chinese, “_Dai Yuan shouch hi-li-gun-bu_”--that is, “The
great Yuan spreads the hands of force everywhere.” In a second line on
the same side the words, “_Om-mani-badme-houm_” are written in Chinese
and Nigurian. The inscriptions on the right side contain the same in
Chinese, Thibetan, and Nigurian. “And then,” says the Archimandrite,
“there is nothing more”; about which statement, however, with all
deference, I venture to express my doubts; for although I do not read
Chinese, and could only examine the monuments for a very few moments,
yet I came to the conclusion that whether the interpretation first
given be correct or not, it is inadequate, and far from exhaustive.
I saw clearly on the stone some large Chinese characters, perhaps two
inches high, and some of the Chinese passengers were able partially to
decipher them; but the general appearance of the stone reminded me of a
palimpsest manuscript which had been, in the first place, covered with
small characters, about half an inch square or less, over which the
larger characters had been written. Beside the monumental stone, which
was mounted on a pedestal, there were lying near five flat stones, cut
across the centres from side to side with transverse grooves, about an
inch wide and deep. Mr. Collins says they are supposed to have been
altars of sacrifice, once elevated and within the temple, and that
the grooves served to conduct the blood of the victim into the proper
vessel. Whether this be so or not I cannot say, but they looked to me
much more like the capitals or bases of pillars, with the grooves for
keeping them in place.[8] It is much to be wished that the spot should
be visited, and the monuments examined by a competent scholar.

Towards evening we passed another Gilyak habitation called the
“white village,” and afterwards found the banks of the Amur becoming
abrupt, the islands low and to a great extent exposed to inundation.
We had long been passing out of the region of foliferous trees, and
in approaching Nikolaefsk they were almost entirely supplanted by
conifers, fir-trees prevailing, birches and some few other leafy trees
occurring only in favoured localities. The Amur at Nikolaefsk reaches
in some places to a depth of 15 feet, is a mile and three-quarters
wide, with a current of from four to five knots. The river enters
the sea at a distance of 26 miles from the town, the Liman, or gulf,
measuring more than nine miles at its widest.[9]

Thus, on Tuesday evening, the 13th of August, I arrived at Nikolaefsk,
having completed the passage of the Lower Amur. I have said almost
nothing, however, of its curious heathen inhabitants, whose
acquaintance I am so glad to have made, and to whose description I
shall now proceed.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] This was bad enough, but not all. There was no inn, post-house,
or hotel in the place; the only lodging that offered was a room
constructed on a floating barge, without beds or bedsteads, and in
which might sleep, on the seats or the floor, Russians, Chinese,
Manchu, or anyone else that chose. Here, however, my Finnish friend,
M. Kruskopf, came to my aid, and volunteered to get me a bed at the
telegraph station, an offer I should thankfully have accepted, but the
captain of the _Zeya_ consented to my sleeping on board till morning,
when he expected to go back.

[2] On returning to Khabarofka I found one of my fellow-passengers had
bought eight skins, for which he had paid 50_s._ each, and for one for
his wife’s hat £4. I heard subsequently that the best sable-skins are
from the neighbourhood of the Okhotsk sea, and are worth £4 each. My
informant, an old sea captain, said that in 1857 he bought 2,000 in
Kamchatka at 30_s._, and that they commanded in New York from £5 to £6
each. Among them were 22 skins for a lady’s set of trimmings, which,
when made up, cost her £200. The skins of the younger sables, he said,
were blacker than those of the older, which are apt to be more or less
grey. The former sell better in Berlin, and the latter are highly
esteemed in Paris.

[3] Besides these hundred-rouble notes I took, to pay for horses, £30
in one-rouble notes, the same amount in three and five-rouble notes,
small silver coin to the value of 100 roubles, and a bag of copper
kopecks, for at the post-houses they are not bound to give change,
and the clerks gladly pocket the difference when smaller money is not
forthcoming. In the peopled parts of the Sea-coast government there
is a postal delivery once a week, at Okhotsk once a month, and at one
happy place in the far north, I was told, the postman arrives but once
a year! They have a “parcel post” in Siberia, by which packets must not
exceed £500 in value, nor weigh more than 1 cwt. The rates are, for 200
miles, ¾_d._ per Russian pound, and ¼_d._ per pound extra for every 60
miles up to 1,600, Beyond that distance it costs ¼_d._ per pound for
every 160 miles.

[4] Mr. Ravenstein, in his admirable and generally accurate work (page
187), gives the Amur below the Dondon a breadth in one bed of six
miles, and further on a width of 15 miles, including the islands; but
I have been unable to confirm these figures from either the chart of
the captain of the steamer, or from a well-executed Russian survey of
the Amur river at the India Office, which was politely shown me by Mr.
Trelawney Saunders.

[5] After this I thought the profession of an advocate profitable,
and readily believed him when he told me that he possessed in Russia
on the Volga nearly 8,000 acres of land, which cost about £1 an acre.
It was the best land, he said, in all Russia; 600 acres he used for
growing wheat, and the rest for rye, selling his corn to the merchants
of Samara. He told me that in forensic matters things are reversed as
between Russia and England, that whereas in England a barrister looks
forward to being a judge, in Russia a judge (who is paid only £300 to
£400 a year) looks forward to being an advocate, which he can become
only after spending five years in court.

[6] This lake seems to be an overflow from the river, which here
divides into several channels, and looks as if one day in the remote
past it would fain have ended its wanderings, and turned off eastwards
through the sea-coast range into Castries Bay. The distance from the
head of the Kizi Lake to Castries Bay is only 8½ miles. The lake
occupies an area of 93 square miles, being 25 miles long and 12 broad.
Of the two islets in the lake, one is a rock about 50 feet in diameter.
The crevices are full of fox-holes, and the Gilyaks regard it as
sacred, assembling there from time to time for their Shaman rites.

[7] Réclus quotes Von Middendorf to the effect that on the map of
Remezov, which appeared in the seventeenth century, a town is marked
on this spot as the limits of the conquests of the Tsar Alexander of
Macedon, who hid his arms and left there a bell. Such was the tradition
of the Cossacks. Again, Ravenstein quotes Witsen to the effect that
Russian warriors, 30 or 40 years ago, found a bell weighing 660 lbs.
at a place which seems to have been dug round, and near which stood
several stones bearing Chinese inscriptions; and he adds that a
manuscript of 1678, in the library of the Siberian department, mentions
the same facts. My fellow-passengers spoke of the monuments as dating
back to the time of Ghengis Khan, and erected to mark the limit of his
conquests. Once more, Mr. Ravenstein asserts that one of the emperors
of the Yuen dynasty (which flourished in China from 1234 to 1368,
A.D.) went by sea to the mouth of the Amur, in commemoration of which
he built at Tyr the monastery of “Eternal Repose.” To come to our own
times, Mr. Collins relates that the inscriptions on the monuments were
translated by the Archimandrite Avvakum, who for several years was
connected with the Russian Mission at Peking, and who descended the
Amur about 1857 as interpreter to Count Putiatin’s embassy, then on its
way to China. Mr. Collins obtained from an officer a translation from
the Russian into English of the Archimandrite’s interpretation.

[8] Mr. Collins speaks of excavations, or pits, within and without
the remains of a wall, and mentions also his finding the monuments
decorated with wreathed garlands of finely-worked splint, or the
stripping of a tree, bound together at intervals with willow twigs.
The bases of the monuments also were dressed with shavings of wood,
worked to represent flowers, thickly planted around in the earth.
These he conjectured to have been, as they probably were, offerings of
the natives, who still use the place, I understood, for Shamanistic
practices.

[9] A mile below the town there are sandbanks, and a bar which prevents
the entrance of ships drawing more than 13 feet of water. In fact, from
the Continent to the Island of Sakhalin are sandbanks, among which
wind the navigable channels, which are liable to change during heavy
tempests, so that the pilots are obliged to trace them, sounding-rod in
hand. I heard, too, that for strategic purposes some of these channels
at the mouth of the river could be filled up, or diverted.

CHAPTER XLVI

_THE GILYAKS._

The Gilyaks perfect heathens.--Their habitat, number, and
form.--Diseases, generation, and character.--Habitations.--Living
on fish.--Winter and summer clothing.--Methods of fishing.--Dirty
habits.--Domestic animals.--Boats.--Marriage customs.--Price
of a wife.--Foreign relations.--Fair at Pul.--Manchu
merchants.--Conversation with Gilyaks.--Gilyak and Goldi
languages.--Education.--Superstitions.--Idols and charms.--Method
of bear catching and killing.--Alleged worship of the
bear.--Shaman rites.--Gilyak treatment of the dead.--Romanist
mission to the Gilyaks.--Martyrdom of the missionary.

The Gilyaks were the most thorough heathens I saw in Siberia.[1] I
visited two of their villages--Mukhul and Tyr--saw some of them at
Nikolaefsk almost daily, and met a former starosta of the “white”
village. I conversed also with an American and an Englishman who had
known them for many years; with a French trader among them; with a
telegraph engineer whose business took him through the Gilyak country
and into their houses; and, further, with three Russian priests, who
as missionaries labour among them and the Goldi. From all of these I
gathered more or less information, which has since been supplemented
by reading; yet it must be owned that, as to all save what meets the
eye, we are still very little informed in regard to this people; whilst
of their religion (if they have any) next to nothing is known. Few
Russians learn the Gilyak language, and few Gilyaks learn Russ.

The Gilyak country extends from Tambofsk (or Girin), about 350 miles
south of Nikolaefsk, to the sea-shore near the mouth of the Amur,
as well as over the northern half of the island of Sakhalin. The
subdivisions of the people on the island are, on the west coast the
Smerenkur, and on the east the Tro. To state accurately their numbers
is not easy. When I asked a former starosta of the white village what
was its population, he replied, “We have 60 men and more women, but the
children are not counted.” Mr. Collins passed on the Amur 39 Gilyak
villages, the population of which he estimated at 1,680.

In stature these aborigines are diminutive, usually below rather than
above five feet; their eyes are elongated; the color of the skin tawny,
like that of the Chinese; the hair black, and not luxuriant.[2] The
Gilyaks tie up the hair in a thick tail, but do not, like the Manchu
and Goldi, shave or cut it; hence they were called by the Chinese “long
hairs.”

They do not cause malformations of body by pressure, mutilation, or
incision. Their diseases, in common with the Goldi, are rheumatism,
ophthalmia (produced by hunting in the snow), and syphilis, the last
having been originally introduced by Manchu merchants. In hereditary
cases it is no doubt aggravated by their filthy manner of living. The
Gilyaks resort for cure to the hot springs at Mukhul; but the Goldi,
having no such springs, frequently die of the disease. Insanity is
rare among them. Their women have few children; six is thought a very
large family. They strap their babies in wooden cradles very much like
a butcher’s tray, and suspend them from the roof, as I saw at Mukhul,
where the poor little creature was unable to move hand or foot. I
gathered from a Russian missionary that the Goldi are thought to be
slightly on the increase; but the Gilyaks, from the time the Russians
first knew them, have been dying out.[3]

The winter habitations of the Gilyaks and Goldi are erected in clusters
of from two or three to perhaps a dozen. In the 39 villages mentioned
by Collins he counted 140 houses. The first Gilyak dwelling I entered
was at Mukhul. It was about 40 feet square, built of small posts or
stakes, and plastered with mud. The roof was supported by heavier
posts at the corners, with cross-pieces on which the rafters rested,
and upright timbers supported the covering of larch bark, kept in its
place and from warping in the sun by stones and heavy poles. Among the
cross-beams and joists were nets, skins, dog-sledges, light canoes,
hunting implements, fish-baskets of birch or willow twigs, dried fish,
herbs, and, in fact, the wealth and working tools of the half-dozen
families to whom the house was evidently a comfortable home during a
long and severe winter. Around three sides of the interior was a raised
divan for a seat and dining and sleeping place, with a flue running
underneath, and a fireplace at either end. At the vacant side of the
interior were cooking utensils, pots, kettles, knives, and wooden pans;
and there were hung to dry various skins and fish, entrails, etc. The
house had only this one room, and in the centre was a raised platform,
under which in winter are tied the dogs, and sometimes the family bear.
The windows were of fish-skin, or thin paper, over a lattice. Besides
this kind of dwelling-house for winter, I entered at Tyr a thatched log
building, supported and raised on posts several feet above the ground,
and out of the reach of floods, dogs, and vermin. The verandah was
approached by climbing a notched log. The floor consisted of poles,
between which daylight was visible; and in the centre was a box full of
earth for the fireplace. The building was used probably in winter for
a storehouse; but I found it inhabited as a summer residence. The most
prominent objects, both indoors and out, were large racks and poles,
on which fish were hung to dry; and the combined odour of fish and
fish-oil made it little short of an act of heroism to stay long in a
Gilyak’s house.

These people do not cultivate the land, but subsist almost entirely on
fish. Occasionally they eat the animals taken in the chase, and their
dogs, when they die; while pork and other flesh, with a little millet,
are reserved for festivals.[4]

The favourite winter dress of both Gilyaks and Goldi is made of
dogs’ skins, or of fox or wolf, as being the next warmest. In summer
they wear fish-skin, hence the Chinese called them “Yupitatze,” or
“fish-skin strangers,” though the well-to-do among the Goldi get from
the merchants cotton goods, and sometimes even silk. The fish-skin
is prepared from two kinds of salmon. They strip it off with great
dexterity, and, by beating with a mallet, remove the scales, and so
render it supple. Clothes thus made are waterproof. I saw a travelling
bag, and even the sail of a boat, made of this material. I had hoped,
when leaving Kara, to have found at Ignashina the dress of a Tunguse
shaman, but I was disappointed. I succeeded, however, in purchasing at
Tyr a fish-skin coat. It is handsomely embroidered, and colored on the
back.[5] The Gilyak hats are made of fur for the winter with lappets;
and the Goldi, by sewing together squirrels’ tails, make a round fur
like a “boa,” about five inches in diameter, which, being joined at
the ends, serves either for the neck or to encircle the head like a
coronet. Their summer hat, of depressed conical shape, is made of
birch-tree bark, ornamented on the top by strips of colored wood sewn
in patterns. It has inside a wooden ridge, and is kept in place by a
string under the chin.

[Illustration: SALMON-SKIN COAT AND BIRCH-BARK HAT.]

The occupations of the Gilyaks and Goldi are fishing and hunting. They
use _gill_-nets and seines in some localities, and _scoop_-nets in
others. I more than once saw a fence of poles built at right angles
to the shore, extending 20 or 30 yards into the Amur. This fence is
fish-proof, except in a few places where holes are purposely left
for the salmon, which the natives lie in wait to catch with spears
or hand-nets. When the fish are running well, a canoe can soon be
filled.[6] Ropes and nets they make from hemp and from the common
stinging-nettle, the stalks of which are treated like flax. This
latter material is preferred, and makes cordage equal to that of
civilized manufacture, though sometimes not quite so smooth. I obtained
a specimen of very fine sewing-thread of native manufacture, and
exceedingly strong; but colored threads for embroidery are purchased
from the Russians or the Manchu.

The habits of the Gilyaks are dirty beyond description. They are said
never to wash. A telegraphic engineer told me that he one day gave a
Gilyak a piece of soap, which he put in his mouth, and, after chewing
it to a lather, pronounced “very good.” Both Gilyaks and Goldi have
a liking, reverence, or fear for animals. They formerly domesticated
ermines for catching rats, the high price of cats confining their
possession to the wealthy. On the Lower Amur they find, besides
those mentioned elsewhere, the elk, roebuck, reindeer, and fox; the
racoon-dog, wild boar, and lynx; the polecat, hedgehog, ermine, sable,
and striped squirrel.[7] They are fond also of seeing swallows build
in their houses, and to induce them to do so they fasten small boards
under the roof, by which these birds have access to the house. The
Goldi keep the horned owl (for catching rats), the jay, the hawk, and
the kite--the last for no particular use, unless it be for the sake
of their feathers for arrows.[8] The eagle is sometimes seen fastened
near their houses, and so are the dogs, which, in winter, are their
principal means of locomotion. I saw a large number of them at Mukhul.
A team may consist of any odd number from 7 to 17, a good leader being
worth 50_s._ and an ordinary dog from 8_s._ to 10_s._ The sledge is
made of thin boards five or six feet long, and 18 inches wide, convex
below, but straight on the upper edge. A team of nine dogs draws a man
and 200 pounds of luggage an entire day, each dog receiving a piece
of fish a foot long, and about two inches square, the same in size as
suffices for his master. The mode of summer communication is by boats
made of pitch-fir or cedar. Besides these the Goldi make canoes of
birch-bark. The native sits in the centre, and propels himself with a
double-bladed paddle. The canoes are flat-bottomed, and very easily
upset. When a native sitting in one of them spears a fish, he moves
only his arm, and keeps his body motionless. The larger boats are
usually rowed by women, the lords of creation sitting in the stern to
steer and smoke their long-stemmed, amber-tipped, Chinese pipes. There
is one marked difference, however, between the rowing of the Gilyaks
and Goldi, for whereas the latter, taking two oars, pull them together,
the former pull them alternately--a seemingly clumsy way, but in
practice efficient.

Women occupy a low position among the Gilyaks and Goldi, who are
polygamists. Mr. Ravenstein quotes a statement of Rinso, a Japanese
traveller, that among the Smerenkur Gilyaks polyandry prevails.
Betrothal dates from childhood. The father chooses the bride for his
infant son, a rich Gold paying from £5 to £20 for a girl five years
old. At Mukhul the price of a wife was given me as from £10 to £50,
often paid in silk stuffs and other materials, whilst a telegraph
engineer named as the selling price for a Gilyak bride, from eight to
ten dogs, a sledge, and two cases of brandy, though, if she have “a
good nose,” she fetches rather more. The bride elect is brought into
the house of her future father-in-law, and when the girl is 12 or 13,
and the boy 18, they are married.[9] Should a Gold who has many wives
desire to be baptized the Russian missionaries compel him to elect one,
and be canonically married to the object of his choice; the rest being
sold, or, by a happy arrangement, returned to their respective fathers
at half price. Notwithstanding such matrimonial drawbacks, I heard that
among these interesting people there are no unmarried ladies.

The amusements of the Gilyaks are of the nature of gymnastics, such as
throwing heavy irons and fencing. They begin early to shoot with bow
and arrow, and are good archers. Their foreign relationships are of a
very limited character.[10]

There was formerly at Pul an annual fair, which lasted for 10 days, and
was like that of Nijni Novgorod in miniature.[11] The navigation of the
Amur by the Russians has caused this fair to be discontinued, but the
Manchu merchants still descend the river, though not in such numbers
as formerly, when one voyage sufficed to realize enough for the wants
of a year. I was informed that they fleece the natives sadly, giving
the Gilyaks, for instance, a pint of millet or half a pint of brandy
for a sable-skin; and when the natives are made drunk, then, of course,
skins are bartered for very much less. The Russian barges, fitted like
floating stores, and towed on the river, must have interfered greatly
with the Manchu traders, whose sway, it is to be hoped, is nearly
at an end. The Gilyaks now come to the Russian towns, especially to
Nikolaefsk, and not only sell their fish, but begin to purchase Russian
articles; whereas, for a long time, they gave the preference to goods
of Chinese make.

I met a family of Gilyaks in a shop at Nikolaefsk, with whom I
endeavoured to exchange ideas, through one who spoke a little Russian,
and I thought they seemed a people the lowest in intellect of any I had
met. The company consisted of a father, mother, two daughters, and a
deaf and dumb boy. The man did not know his daughters’ age, nor even
his own, saying that they kept no account. When asked whether he would
sell me his daughter to wife, he replied at first that they did not
sell their girls to Russians, not approving the alliance. When pressed
further, however, he said that she was already sold (she was about 10
years old, and was smoking a pipe), and he added, “I sold her dearly!”
It was difficult, however, in Russ to convey to their minds any but
the simplest ideas. Neither Gilyaks nor Goldi have any written signs.
The missionary living at Khabarofka has translated into Goldi parts of
the Scriptures and the Greek liturgy, using, if I mistake not, Russian
characters. The Goldi language, he told me, was much like the Manchu,
and that, speaking the former, he could make himself understood in
the latter. Both, Mr. Howorth says, are Tunguse languages. M. de la
Brunière writes that Goldi stands to Manchu much as Provençal does to
French or Italian.[12]

The Russians have made some attempts to educate the Gilyaks. When Mr.
Knox visited Mikhailofsky, he found a merchant farmer who was acting
as superintendent of a school opened at the cost of the Government for
the education of Gilyak boys. The copy-books exhibited fair specimens
of penmanship, and on the desks were Æsop’s fables translated into
Russ. Close at hand was a forge, where the boys learned to work, and
a carpenter’s shop, with tools and turning lathe. The school at that
time was in operation ten months a year, and the teacher belonged to
one of the inferior ranks of the Russian clergy. I called on the priest
at Mikhailofsky and inquired about the Gilyaks, but heard nothing of
the existence of the school, and I am under the impression that it is
discontinued. The Russians have two mission schools, however, on the
Lower Amur, attended by 30 children--one at Troitzka for the Goldi,
and another for the Gilyaks at Bolan, near Malmuish. I heard of one
Gilyak boy who had made sufficient progress to qualify him to become a
psalmist, or _dïechok_, in the Russian Church.

Like other heathen tribes, the Gilyaks have many superstitions. They do
not allow fire to be carried in or out of a house, not even in a pipe,
fearing such an act may bring ill luck in hunting or fishing. The same
superstition is found in many parts of Russia. They appear, too, to be
fatalists; for an Englishman at Nikolaefsk told me that if one falls
into the water, the others will not help him out, on the plea that they
would thus be opposing a higher power, who wills that he should perish.
A Russian officer and his family were drowned some time since near the
town, within easy reach of the boats of the Gilyaks, who could have
saved them, but they did not attempt to do so.[13]

The Gilyaks believe in wooden idols or charms as antidotes to disease.
I had practical illustration of this at Tyr, where I wished to buy some
of the little amulets belonging to the head of a household; but he was
at first unwilling to sell them, saying that he had found the wearing
of them very efficacious in sickness. The offer of a silver piece,
however, changed his mind;[14] and he afterwards sold me not only
his own, but those of his baby, one of them like a doll in a sitting
posture; and after I had left the house, he sent after me a fish rudely
cut in wood, and meant for a sturgeon, with a little god seated on his
back. This had been used, apparently, not long before, on a fishing
expedition, for there was gelatine and fresh blood in the mouth of the
fish and the god. Sometimes poles shaped like idols are placed before
the houses. Another kind is carried as companion to the native on his
journeys, whilst some are placed upon the summits of the mountains.

[Illustration: GILYAK IDOLS OR CHARMS]

Other idols are in the form of the tiger, bear, etc., which animals
are closely connected with their superstition, if not their religion.
The tiger is said to be feared much more among the Gilyaks than the
Goldi, and its appearance portends evil. If the remains are found of a
man killed by a tiger, they are buried on the spot without ceremony.
On the other hand, if a cow is found killed by a bear, it is eaten
with great glee and rejoicing. It is said that neither Gilyaks nor
Goldi attempt to kill the tiger. Neither do they hunt the wolf, to
which they attribute an evil influence. With the bear, however, things
are very different. There is in each Gilyak village a bear cage. I
saw them at both Mukhul and Tyr. They speak of the captive as _Mafa_,
that is, “Chief Elder,” and to distinguish him from the tiger, who is
_Mafa sakhle_, that is, “Black Chief.” In hunting the bear they exhibit
great intrepidity. In order not to excite his posthumous revenge, they
do not surprise him, but have a fair stand-up fight. When it is not
desired to secure the animal alive, the natives use a spear, such as I
saw at Krasnoiarsk, the head of which is covered with spikes. It lies
upon the ground, having cord attached to the centre, and held by a
man, the spear-point being towards the bear. As Bruin advances to the
man, the spear-head is raised from the ground, and the beast throws
himself upon it, but finds the chevaux-de-frize a disagreeable object
to embrace. He is then set upon by the huntsmen and killed. It is much
more interesting sport to catch a bear alive. A party of ten men or
more enter the forest provided with straps, muzzle, and a collar with
chain attached. Having discovered the whereabouts of the bear, he is
surrounded, and one of them, jumping upon his back in the twinkling
of an eye, seizes hold of his ears. Another quickly fastens a running
knot round the neck of the beast, and almost suffocates him. He is then
muzzled, the collar passed round his neck, and he is led in triumph to
the village to be put in the cage, and fattened on fish.[15] Bruin is
not imprisoned, however, to be treated like the sacred bulls of Egypt.
On festivals he is brought out, his paws tied, an iron chain put in his
mouth, and he is bound between two fixed poles, an involuntary witness
of the natives frolicking around him. On very grand occasions he takes
a more direct share in the festival by being killed with superstitious
ceremonies.[16] The people then go home, their chiefs staying to cut up
the bear, the flesh of which is distributed to every house, and eaten
with great zest, as food calculated to inspire and bring courage and
luck. The head and paws, however, are treated with great reverence.[17]
These ursine ceremonies have, no doubt, given rise to the statement
that the Gilyaks worship the bear. Mr. Collins goes so far as to
say that they consider the bear an incarnated evil spirit; and the
missionary at Mikhailofsky, in answer to my question, was not sure,
but he thought it quite likely that they worshipped the animal. It is
only proper to say, however, that when I met at Nikolaefsk the former
elder of the White village, and asked him whether it was true that they
worshipped the bear, he denied it, and said that they killed it as we
should do any other animal for a feast; and that each village was bound
in turn to provide a bear, on which occasion other villages assembled
and joined in the banquet. I then inquired what was the religion of
the Gilyaks. He said they had none, but upon being asked to whom they
prayed, he looked up to the skies. He acknowledged that they practised
Shamanism, but added that that was a mystery.

[Illustration: GILYAK FISH-GOD OR IDOL.]

Thus far I have frequently used the word Shamanism, but have deferred
explaining it till I treated of the Gilyaks, some of whose Shamanistic
practices were described to me by an eye-witness--the telegraph
engineer, to whom I have before alluded. The Gilyaks and the Siberian
natives generally believe in the existence of good and bad spirits; but
as the former perform only good, it is not thought necessary to pay
them any attention.[18]

The shamans, or priests, who may be male or female, are regarded as
powerful mediators between the people and the evil spirits. The shaman,
in fact, combines the double functions of doctor and priest. When
a man falls sick, he is supposed to be attacked by an evil spirit,
and the shaman is called to practise exorcism. There is a distinct
spirit for every disease, who must be propitiated in a particular
manner. The performance was thus described to me. The shaman puts
on a huge bearskin cloak, which jingles with bells, pieces of iron,
brass, or anything which will help, when shaken, to make a noise; the
whole sometimes weighing as much as 100 lbs. He begins by singing
in a monotonous murmur, and drinks brandy. Both patient and doctor
are usually decorated with strips of wood or shavings, hanging round
the waist and head. By the side of the patient are placed idols and
brandy. The shaman sits on one side and the audience on the other. He
approaches, drinks more brandy, begins to sing and jingle his bells,
and gives brandy to the spectators. On the table are placed idols,
fish, a squirrel’s skin, millet and brandy, and a dog is tied under
the table. The eatables are offered to the idols, and then distributed
to be consumed by all present. Meanwhile the shaman contorts his
body, and dances like one possessed, and howls to such an extent that
Chinese merchants, who have come out of curiosity, have been known to
flee in very terror. He also beats a tambourine, and sometimes falls
prostrate, as if holding communion with the spirits; and this kind of
thing sometimes goes on for three days and nights, as long, probably,
as provisions and spirits hold out, after which the patient is left to
believe that he will get well; and the shaman receives his fee, which
may be a reindeer, a dog, fish, brandy, or whatever the patient can
afford. The shamans possess great power over their deluded subjects,
though they are said to be somewhat held in check by the belief that,
should they abuse their authority over evil spirits, to the detriment
of a fellow human being, they will hereafter be long and severely
punished. Their punishment is supposed to await them in a nether hell,
dark and damp, filled with gnawing reptiles. A good shaman, however,
who has performed wonderful cures receives, after death, a magnificent
tomb to his memory.

The treatment of the dead among the Gilyaks would seem to vary. Réclus
and Collins say that some tribes burn the dead on funereal pyres, and
build a low frame over the ashes, and that others hang the coffins
on trees, or place them on a scaffolding near the houses. The French
trader at Nikolaefsk told me that in winter they wrap up the dead and
put them in the forked branches of trees, out of the reach of animals,
till the ground is thawed, and then, he supposed, the corpse was
buried. The soul of the Gilyak is supposed to pass at death into his
favourite dog, which is accordingly fed with choice food; and when the
spirit has been prayed by the shamans out of the dog, the animal is
sacrificed upon his master’s grave. The soul is then represented as
passing underground, lighted and guided there by its own sun and moon,
and continuing to lead there, in its spiritual abode, the same manner
of life and pursuits as in the flesh.

The Russians have missionaries among the Gilyaks, but the Greek Church
cannot claim the honour of bringing Christianity first among them.
This belongs to a Roman missionary, M. de la Brunière, who perished
in his endeavour.[19] On April 5th, 1846, he addressed a letter to
the directors of the Seminary for Foreign Missions, telling them of
his plans, and how strongly a Chinese friend tried to dissuade him,
“representing to me the troops of tigers and bears which filled these
deserts; and, whilst relating these things, he sometimes uttered such
vehement cries that my two guides grew pale with horror. Being already
a little accustomed to the figures of Chinese eloquence, I thanked him
for his solicitude, assuring him that the flesh of Europeans had such
a particular flavour that the tigers of Manchuria would not attempt to
fasten their teeth in it.”[20]

Then follows a touching portion, in which he writes:-- “About the 13th
or 15th of May, I will buy, if it please God, a small bark, in which I
may descend the Amur to the sea to visit the ‘long hairs.’ I shall go
alone, because no one dare conduct me. I am well aware how difficult
it will be to avoid the barges of the mandarins who descend the river
from San-sin; but if it is the will of God that I arrive where I design
going, His arm can smooth every obstacle, and guide me there in safety;
and if it please Him that I return, He knows well how to bring me back.”

He went, and at the White village was murdered.[21] I passed the spot a
few hours before reaching Nikolaefsk, and the bay was pointed out where
the missionary was put to death. My fellow-passengers said that De la
Brunière reached the place with a baptized Mongol, whom he sent back on
the day of his arrival, after which he proceeded to show the Gilyaks
his watch, crucifix, spoons, etc.; and that two days after his arrival,
they killed him on a small island where he had taken up his abode.
One of my fellow-passengers was the Russian Lieutenant Yakimoff, who
in 1857, with the Governor of the province, visited the village, and
found the Gilyaks who had committed the murder. They had still in their
possession the watch, crucifix, and spoons, which the Russians bought.
During my stay at Nikolaefsk I met, as I have said, a former starosta
of the White village, who told me that he had heard from his father the
story of the missionary. Thus perished the first man who attempted to
carry Christianity to the Gilyaks. What the Russians are doing among
them I shall refer to when speaking hereafter of their missions to the
neighbouring Goldi.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Their name is variously spelt Gee-laks, Giliaks, Ghiliaks, and
Gilyaks. Living near and resembling in many points the Goldi, the two
tribes, for ethnographical purposes, are sometimes classed together as
branches of the Tunguse family. But M. Réclus is right when, speaking
of the “Giliaks” or “Kilé,” he calls them “frères de ceux qui vivent
dans l’île de Sakhalin et parents de ces mystérieux Aïnos qui sont
l’objet de tant de discussion entre les ethnologistes”; and Mr. Howorth
says that the Ghiliaks, called “Fish-skin Tata” by the Chinese, are no
doubt sophisticated Aïnos, while the Goldi are Tunguses.

[2] As Réclus observes, they have not the open and clear physiognomy of
the majority of the Tunguses, and their little eyes sparkle with a dull
brilliance; they have squat noses, thick lips, prominent cheekbones,
and, he adds, “thick beards”; which last I can hardly confirm, but
would rather say, with Mr. Ravenstein, that the beard is stronger with
them than with the Tunguses, which is not saying much.

[3] Dwelling further from the Manchu than the Amur Tunguses, they are
wilder; and Réclus observes that they have a greater idea of liberty,
acknowledge no master, and are governed only by custom, which regulates
their festivals, and determines their hunting and fishing affairs,
their marriages and burials. They are certainly courageous in the way
they catch and kill the bear, though oddly enough they never willingly
get into water, and do not swim.

[4] They are beginning now to use tea, salt, sugar, and bread; but all
of these seem to have been unknown to them before the advent of the
Russians. I heard it mentioned, as a good trait in their character,
that if a Gilyak receives a piece of bread, after eating a portion he
takes home the remainder as a treat for his family. During my stay at
Mikhailofsky the natives came to barter wild fruit for bread. They
are said to have no stated hours for meals, and knives and forks are
of course unknown to them. Noticing one day some Manchu and Goldi
at a meal, I observed they had boiled millet in basins, which they
raised to the lips, and then whipped the millet into their mouths with
chop-sticks.

[5] The men and women dress very much alike. A number of small metal
pendants about the size of a sixpence round the bottom of the blouse
distinguishes the gentler sex. I purchased, too, at Mukhul some pieces
of embroidery on fish-skin, the workmanship of which is thought good
in England; whilst at Tyr was given me a kind of fish-skin open work
or lace. The blouse of the men is fastened in front, and confined
round the waist by a belt, to which is suspended a number of articles
of daily use. They consist of a large knife, a Chinese pipe, an
iron instrument for cleaning it, steel for striking a light, a bone
for smoothing fish-skins and loosening knots, a bag of fish-skin
for tinder, and a tobacco pouch, a specimen of which last, somewhat
tastefully made of sturgeon’s skin, was given me at Nikolaefsk by the
chief civil authority.

[6] In places I saw square pens of wicker-work fixed, to enclose the
fish after they pass the holes in the fence. For catching sturgeon
they use a circular net, of 5-feet diameter, and shaped like a shallow
bag. One part of the mouth is fitted with corks, and the opposite
with weights of lead or iron. Two canoes in mid-stream hold this net
vertically between them across the current. The sturgeon descending the
river enter the trap, and the fishermen divide the “net proceeds.”

[7] “Cats,” says Mr. Knox, “have a half-religious character, and are
treated with great respect. Since the advent of the Russians, the
supply is very good. Before they came, the Manchu merchants used to
bring only male cats, and those mutilated. The price was sometimes a
hundred roubles for a single mouser, and by curtailing the supply, the
Manchu kept up the market.”

[8] The birds known to them belong generally to the species found in
the same latitudes of Europe and America, but there are some birds
of passage that are natives of Southern Asia, Japan, the Philippine
Islands, and even South Africa and Australia. Seven-tenths of the birds
of the Amur are found in Europe, two-tenths in Siberia, and one-tenth
in regions further south. Some birds belong more properly to America,
such as the Canadian woodcock and the water-ouzel, and there are
several birds common to the east and west coasts of the Pacific. The
number of stationary birds is not great. Maack enumerates 39 species
that dwell here the entire year. The birds of passage generally arrive
in April or May, and leave in September or October. It is a curious
fact that they come later to Nikolaefsk than to the town of Yakutsk,
nine degrees further north. This is due to difference of climate.

[9] Weddings, however, are expensive, for all the relatives expect
to be invited, and they sometimes drink several gallons of Chinese
_khanshin_. The drinking of this, I am told, causes not only
intoxication, but among these people violence akin to madness. It
is sold by weight, and costs tenpence per Russian pound, but its
importation is strictly forbidden by Russian law.

[10] Before the Russian occupation the Manchu came down the river to
collect tribute and dispose of their merchandise. These Mandarins are
charged with abuse of power, and with having made extortionate demands
upon the natives, who hailed the Russians as their liberators. On
the other hand, the Mandarin was supposed to make a small present of
tobacco or silk to every one paying him tribute; and among the Gilyaks
this present appeared to be reckoned of greater value than the tribute
demanded. The Gilyaks, however, living so far off from the Manchu, do
not seem to have been much oppressed by them, nor indeed to have been
very frequently visited. Sakhalin was visited still less often, but I
heard among the Goldi that they decidedly preferred the Russian to the
Manchu rule.

[11] Manchu and Chinese merchants met Japanese from Sakhalin, Tunguses
from the Okhotsk coast, and from the head waters of the Zeya and Amgun.
Besides these were the Orochi, or Orochons, from the mountains east
of the Lower Amur, and Manguns; to say nothing of smaller tribes,
speaking nearly a dozen languages, and conducting business in a
_patois_ of all the dialects. The goods imported were coarsely printed
calicoes, Chinese silk materials, rice and millet, also bracelets,
earrings, tobacco and brandy, cloth, powder, lead, and knives. These
were exchanged for furs, isinglass, and the dried backbones of the
sturgeon--the last being highly prized in Chinese cookery.

[12] I found that the priest was compiling a Goldi lexicon and grammar,
and that, for his linguistic labours, he has received a medal from the
Imperial Geographical Society. I am indebted to him for some of the
words in the following short vocabulary, which will give an idea of
the Manyarg, Manchu, Orochon, and Goldi tongues (which are Tunguse)
compared with the Gilyak and Aïno dialects, which seem to belong to
another family.

_English._ _Manyarg._ _Manchu._ _Orochon._ _Goldi._ _Gilyak._ _Aïno._

One omun emu omu omu niun chine
Two zur juo dhjou dhjour morsh tu
Three ilan ilan ulla ellan chiorch che
Four digin duin dii duyin murch yne
Five sunja tungha tongha torch ashne
Dog inda inda kan sheta
Sable nossa seppha
Fox solaki solli

[13] These aborigines do not bear a favourable character. Schrenk
says that the Gilyaks of the mainland are avaricious and covetous in
their commercial transactions, but that among those of Sakhalin this
propensity seeks satisfaction in theft and robbery. I shall presently
relate a case in which they murdered a missionary apparently for the
sake of getting the little merchandise he possessed.

[14] Sometimes they wear amulets fashioned like the part afflicted. A
lame or injured person carries a small leg of wood, an arm, a hand,
reminding one of the wax and silver arms, legs, hands, and hearts seen
in churches on Roman images, and on the pictures of Russian saints. The
missionary at Tyr gave me, in exchange for tracts, a charm to which is
attached a stone, and also two rough wooden fish gods--one with a tail,
the other without. The Gilyaks use these images or idols also in their
Shaman worship.

[15] When secured as a cub, he is frequently kept for three or four
years. The natives are often seriously wounded in these encounters,
but to this they do not object, since such wounds are thought to be
marks of prowess, and to be killed by a bear is deemed a very happy
death. Most of the writers on the Gilyaks mention this extraordinary
procedure; and I heard it confirmed at Mikhailofsky by the missionary.

[16] The day falls in January of each year, and an Englishman at
Nikolaefsk, who had been an eye-witness of the spectacle, described it
to me thus: “The bear is led from his cage, dragged along and beaten
with sticks, and presented at every house in the village; thus he gets
exasperated to a high degree. He is then led to the river to a hole in
the ice, where they try to make him drink water, and from a platter to
eat food, though only a spoonful, both of which in his excited state he
refuses, and which is precisely what they desire. He is then dragged
back with shouts to the place of sacrifice, where, having been fastened
to a post and allowed to repose awhile, he is shot through the heart
with an arrow.”

[17] Among the Gilyaks the head is kept by the patriarch of the
village, and prayers are said to be offered to it for the space of a
week. I was told at Nikolaefsk that the Gilyaks often bring bears’
skins to sell; but by no chance do they bring, or can they be induced
to bring, a hide with the head or paws attached. The ears, jaw-bones,
skull, and paws are sometimes hung upon trees to ward off evil spirits.
Occasionally the skull is split, and suspended in their houses; and Mr.
Knox observed in a Goldi house that part of one wall was covered with
bear skulls and bones, horse-hair, wooden idols, and pieces of colored
cloth.

[18] Mr. Collins does indeed say that the true God is adored without
the shamans in autumn, and then by the whole community in mass, but I
am unable to confirm this from anything I have read or heard. It would
seem rather that all their efforts are directed to induce the evil
spirits not to act; for these evil spirits are supposed to have power
over hunting, fishing, household affairs, and the health and well-being
of animals and men. Accordingly I inferred that Shamanism, so far as it
can be called a religion, is one of fear, and not of love; that it is
something for times of sorrow, such as death, sickness, and calamity,
and not for occasions of joy or thanksgiving, as a birth or a wedding.

[19] Mr. Ravenstein states that the efforts of the Roman Catholic
missionaries in Manchuria may be said to date from 1838; and in May
1845 M. de la Brunière left Kai Cheu with the intention of seeking
the conversion of the “long-haired” people--that is, the Gilyaks of
the Amur. This was before the Russian occupation of the river, and
at a time when thus to wander, without permission, was contrary to
Chinese law and full of danger, to say nothing of the difficulties of
locomotion.

[20] M. de la Brunière then describes his fatigues, his only food being
millet boiled in water. “You must cut and drag trees, light fires
(necessary against the cold and tigers), prepare your victuals in
wind and rain, and all this in the midst of a swarm of mosquitoes and
gad-flies, who do not suspend their attacks till about 10 or 12 in the
evening. Water and wood were abundant at first, ... but 30 leagues from
the Ussuri, the springs became so scarce that we were compelled to do
like the birds of heaven, and eat the millet raw.”

[21] Four years after, M. Venault was sent to the Lower Amur partly, if
possible, to clear up the fate of De la Brunière. On arriving at what
is now called the White village, he found no difficulty in ascertaining
how matters had gone. M. de la Brunière, it seemed, was preparing his
meal in a small bay, when ten men, attracted by the prospect of booty
from the strange priest, went towards him, armed with bows and pikes.
Having hit him with several arrows, seven of them struck him with their
pikes, and the last stroke fractured his skull and proved mortal. This
act consummated, the assassins divided the spoil.

CHAPTER XLVII.

_NIKOLAEFSK._

My arrival.--Visit to prisons and hospitals.--Health
statistics.--Siberian hospitals in general.--A Sunday service
arranged.--Visits to inhabitants.--Russian customs, superstitions,
and amusements.--Dancing.--Nikolaefsk town, arsenal, and
commerce.--Mr. Emery.--Russian bribery.--Cost of provisions and
labour.

Nikolaefsk, founded in 1853, rapidly grew into importance, but
gradually waned after the removal of the “port”; and as our steamer
approached on a cloudy evening, I seemed to have arrived at a very
dismal and out-of-the-way part of the world. My spirits, however,
had risen appreciably during the day. The perplexity in which I left
Khabarofka, and my uncertainty as to how to reach San Francisco, have
been alluded to; but on boarding the _Onon_ I met Mr. Enoch Emery, an
American merchant of Nikolaefsk. After almost disusing my native tongue
for three weeks, I was able to speak again in English, and I now learnt
that for £90 a first-class ticket might be taken from Yokohama in Japan
to Euston Square in London, including food whilst traversing the two
oceans, an allowance of 250 lbs. of luggage, and railway tickets for
America and England. It was not so clear, however, how Japan was to be
reached. The _Dragon_ was not expected at Nikolaefsk, I heard, nor was
there any regular means of getting away other than by retracing my
steps to the Ussuri and Vladivostock. A Russian gunboat had been lying
at the mouth of the Amur, the previous day, with provisions for Dui in
Sakhalin, by which it was suggested that I might get a passage to the
island, and perhaps be trans-shipped to Japan or China on some chance
vessel calling for coal. But when we reached Nikolaefsk this gunboat
had started a few hours before; and thus I landed--with regard to my
future movements--as full of uncertainty as ever.

I had fallen, nevertheless, into good hands; for, in talking to Mr.
Emery, it transpired that we had common friends in Petersburg, one
of whom had spoken to me of the Amur, and would gladly have given me
introductions, had I not persisted in saying that I did not intend to
go so far. Mr. Emery invited me to be his guest--an invitation doubly
welcome in a place where was no better hotel than a beershop, and
because with him I should have the advantage of conversing in English.

Baron Stackelberg was lodged near me, and in the morning we went to
the chief civil authority, M. Andreyeff, to whom I was introduced as a
person desirous of information about the prisons of Sakhalin, and of a
passage, if possible, to the island. To my surprise M. Andreyeff also
was acquainted with some of my friends in Petersburg, and he at once
promised the information; but it was uncertain, he said, when a ship
would leave again with provisions.

The police-master was sent for to take me to see the prisons of
the town. The police-station was the first building we entered; it
contained a few rooms for temporary accommodation. In one of them
were flogging instruments I had heard of at Kara and elsewhere, and
had vainly inquired for more than once. I have no reason to suppose,
however, they were hidden from me in other places, a lawyer having told
me that the troichatka, or plète, was used only at Kara, Nikolaefsk,
and Dui. What they were like shall be told hereafter. I will only say
for the present they were the most terrible things of the kind I had
ever seen. There was a guard-room in the station where Cossacks were
sitting on the floor, eating with wooden spoons from a common saucepan,
and other rooms occupied by clerks and officials. I was then taken
to the town prison, containing 68 prisoners in half-a-dozen rooms.
Some of the men had just come from the bath, the advantages of which
were patent. But I do not recollect seeing accommodation in any of
the Siberian prisons for washing the hands and face except at Tomsk,
where was a sort of caldron mounted on a tripod, and from which,
through four tiny pipes, water was forced, in Russian fashion, to
trickle on the hands. I fancy, however, that not only with prisoners,
but among the lower classes generally, minor ablutions between the
weekly or fortnightly steaming of the bath are regarded more or less as
supererogatory.

In the western suburb of the town was the _étape_, a prison in which
150 persons could be lodged on their way to Sakhalin. Detached, but not
far distant, was the kitchen, in which were convicts of good behaviour,
allowed the run of the town by day, though compelled to sleep in the
building at night. They could thus earn money if they chose.[1] Both
prisons in the town were reported to the Emperor as “old, and built
of bad material, wanting proper sanitary arrangements, and inconvenient
for their purpose.”

[Illustration: THE ÉTAPE PRISON, NIKOLAEFSK.]

A similar description would have been not far wrong of the Nikolaefsk
hospitals, of which there were three--two military and one civil. In
the civil hospital, partly supported by voluntary contributions, they
were sadly cramped for room--so much so that, in one chamber, alongside
of other patients was a boy suffering from small-pox. The chief doctor
had, on his own account, opened an extra room for the blind and the
infirm.[2] In the hospital of the 6th East Siberian battalion were 24
beds only, whereas by law there should have been 48. Happily only five
beds were occupied at the time of my visit, and the list of diseases
treated in the hospital during the preceding 18 months appeared to show
that the medical staff were doing their work successfully. The chief
physician was a German, as are many of the doctors in Russia, and he
took great pains to acquaint me with all I wished to know.[3] I found
some large hospitals for the navy at Vladivostock, with 108 patients
at the time of my visit; but the hospital that pleased me most in the
province, not to say in all Siberia, was that at Khabarofka, built on
the newest principles, and leaving nothing to be desired.[4]

They have in the Sea-coast province no madhouses, properly so called;
but lunatics are treated in a ward of the Nikolaefsk hospital. Of
eight cases during 1878, four recovered, two remained, and two died.
Besides these hospitals I have named, there is in the province one
each at Petropavlovsk, Ghijiga, and Okhotsk. Looking at the Siberian
hospitals with an unprofessional eye, I may say that they struck me as
fairly good. I have twice met Englishmen in Russian hospitals,--one at
Archangel, and the other in the Urals,--and they both said they had
every attention. The hospitals of the country are supported by the
Government, by the army, navy, and civil departments respectively. None
are supported entirely by voluntary contributions. Government servants,
being poor, pay nothing. Civilians pay, and one of the good features of
the Russian hospitals is that persons of the middle classes may enter,
and by a small extra payment receive medical attendance and superior
accommodation.[5] The Siberian towns seemed fairly well supplied with
medical men; but it was rather appalling on the Ussuri to hear from a
telegraph official that he had no medical man within 200 miles to the
south, and 300 to the north.[6]

My coming to Nikolaefsk did not long remain unknown, for it was
suggested that on the Sunday I should conduct a service, there being
no resident Protestant minister, though they had a Roman chapel in
the town. The pro-Governor, Mr. Andreyeff, readily gave his sanction,
offered his house for a place of meeting, and sent round by the police
a notice requesting all to sign who purposed to attend. More than 30
signed, and before Sunday several called on me. I was invited to a
dinner on my first Friday in Nikolaefsk. It happened to be the birthday
of Mr. Schenk, the worthy manager of the principal store. The shop was
closed, and his friends called in the morning to felicitate him, and
to drink and eat nick-nacks from a sideboard. In the evening a capital
dinner was served with asparagus and preserved fruits, which it was
hard to realize we were eating in one of the most dreary parts of
Siberia, where they have seven months’ winter, and where the navigation
does not open till the end of May. Several at table spoke English,
and near me sat a merchant who had lived in the Sandwich Islands and
in Kamchatka. Mr. Emery the same week had a party to lunch; and Mr.
Andreyeff gave a dinner in his garden to some of my fellow-passengers,
myself, and the military commandant. The dinner began with “schnapps,”
and among the dishes was a salmon pie, with rice on the top, the dinner
ending with cream and wild raspberries, of which last there were
bushels growing outside the town.

I made the acquaintance also of some of the naval officers, such
as the captain of the _Ermak_, to whom I gave books for his men,
and Lieutenant Wechman, the captain of the port. The latter was a
Protestant, who invited me on the second Sunday to hold the service
in his house, which I did, and sent books for the barracks of the men
under his command. These social occasions gave me opportunities to
see something of Russians at home, their customs, superstitions, and
amusements. Tea was usually offered whenever a call was made; and as
lemons were not to be had so far away in summer, a spoonful of jam
was often put in the glass instead. They have a custom in Russia of
addressing friends, or those to whom they wish to be polite, by their
Christian name plus their patronymic, or Christian name of their
father, which in the case of Mr. Emery sounded odd to me to hear a lady
ask, “Enoch, son of Simeon, may I give you a glass of tea?”[7]

Among the superstitions of the Russians may be mentioned the not liking
to begin a journey on a Monday. The Governor-General of Western
Siberia told me he usually chose that day expressly, in order to avoid
the crowd of fellow-passengers. Nor do they like to take edge-tools
from another person’s hand, nor to pass the salt, or, if it be done,
the person who receives must smile blandly to break the spell. Again,
when a man is starting upon some special business, he thinks it very
unlucky if the first person he meets in the street should be a priest;
and if the eyes of one dying are not closed by a friend, it is imagined
that there will soon be another death in the family.

The Russians struck me as a people exceedingly ill-provided with manly
amusements. They have nothing to correspond to our cricket, boating,
or football. Their young men seem incapable of rising to any greater
exertion of mind or body than that demanded for billiards, cards,
drinking, and smoking. I saw some soldiers, however, playing with a
large, heavy steel pin, like a tenpenny nail with a heavy head.[8] An
outdoor game played by girls is called “_skaka_” (to jump), something
like the English game of see-saw, only that the two parties do not
sit but stand on the plank, which is only some four feet long, and is
jumped upon with sufficient force that when one person reaches the
ground the other springs into the air, and so on alternately. Swings,
too, are in great demand at fairs and such gatherings. I was treated
to one on the Sukhona, suspended from a cross-beam not less, I should
judge, than 40 feet high.

Dancing is one of the most popular of indoor amusements, and I had
a good opportunity of witnessing the peasants’ performance of it at
Mikhailofsky; for on the evening of our enforced stay a _soirée_ was
extemporized. The dancers were the young men and girls of the village,
dressed in their heavy boots and cotton gowns, but washed and brushed
up for the occasion. The manner in which the girls sat in a row at
the commencement, and the men hung together in an outer room, struck
me very much like a piece of human nature which is seen all the world
over. The music consisted of a fiddle, accordion, and tiny bells;
and in the first dance, two youths having nodded condescendingly to
partners, the four stood up and figured before us, one feature of the
dance being that the men from time to time stamped heavily with their
feet.[9] At an early stage of the proceedings cigarettes were handed
round, and men, girls, and old women all began to smoke--a sure sign
that they were not Starovers, or Old Believers, for they turn out their
sons if they smoke, and call them “pogani,” or “nasty,”--the practice
having been introduced into some parts of Siberia, I was told, within
the last quarter of a century.[10] After dance No. 3, which was by four
girls only, two plates were handed round--one of sweets, the other of
cedar nuts. The latter, from the monotonous gaps they so often fill
at parties, are called by a word which means “Siberian conversation.”
Other refreshments followed in the shape of black bread and cucumbers,
the whole affair looking very formal and solemn; but I am not sure
whether this was normal, or whether the peasants were overawed by the
strange company. I heard that at Nikolaefsk, in winter, they have
frequent balls at the club, but in the summer the evenings are given to
the promenade.

[Illustration: RUSSIAN PEASANT GIRL.]

At this time of day I usually took my constitutional, and searched
about into every hole and corner of the town. Its population stands in
the Almanack at 5,350, which probably was right some years ago, but it
was estimated to me as having decreased to 3,500. The houses extend a
mile and a half along the left bank of the river on a wooded plateau
about fifty feet high. The landing-place is available only for small
craft. Larger vessels lie in the middle of the river, and there is
a wooden pier from which stairs lead to the plateau. The visitor is
then opposite the church, built of wood, having one large cupola and
four small ones. Behind the church stands what was the “Admiralty,”
but is now the police-station, having a flagstaff with semaphore
for signalling vessels in the harbour. To the west of the church is
the officers’ club, and a few minutes’ walk to the east is situated
the admiral’s house, the palace of the town, having around it a few
flowers struggling for existence. In 1866 Mr. Knox found at Nikolaefsk
machine-shops, foundries, and dockyard, into which last I wandered
one evening, and thought of the time when nations are to learn war no
more; for whereas there had been 800 men employed in the place a dozen
years before, I found it covered with weeds, the workshops closed, and
rusty iron lying about in all directions. Here and there were heaps of
bombshells and cannon-balls, with a few grape-shot. Except the sentinel
at the entrance, I met not a soul in the place, from which the glory
had plainly departed. So it was, in fact, with the town generally.
The boarded pavements are fast rotting, and allow the unwary
foot-passenger to step through into the drains. There is sufficient
grass in the streets for cows to graze, and pigs are occasionally seen
there looking about for food. The Governor’s house is falling into
decay, and its grand rooms are looking and smelling dusty, musty, and
old. Again, the buildings erected for the higher Government officials
are inhabited by smaller and feebler folk, and some of the shops are
closed.

Nikolaefsk, nevertheless, from its position at the mouth of a river
which is navigable so far into Asia, will probably continue its present
commercial standing.[11]

There was a medical officer at Nikolaefsk, whose duty it was to examine
the articles sold for food, and who during my stay lodged a complaint
against a merchant for selling damaged flour, although he sold it as
such, and at a reduced price. I heard Russia and Siberia spoken of
as a country where capital can be placed out to great advantage. One
merchant said he could easily get 6 per cent. for his money in Russia,
on security which he deemed satisfactory. I have quoted in an earlier
chapter the 30 or 40 per cent. given for capital at the gold-mines, and
one man I met told me that in Western Siberia he made as much as 100
per cent. on a considerable portion of his capital.

My host, Mr. Emery, had come to the Amur as a boy, and began at the
bottom of the ladder; but at the age of 20 he was able to count his
gains by thousands. He was but 27 when we met, but was looking forward
in a year or two to retire.[12]

One of the drawbacks to honest trading in Russia is the bribery which
officials expect when purchasing Government supplies. An instance of
bribery practised on the rivers was described to me thus: A shipping
agent, for example, carries 5,000 poods of freight, for which the
sender pays him at a certain rate for Government duty. At the
custom-house the agent makes out his bill as having only one-tenth the
real freight, and gives ten roubles each to the officers, who make out
a false bill to correspond with his own. It is then signed by the head
official, who receives no bribe on the spot, but occasionally drives
to the agent’s office, says that he is short of money, and asks for
the loan of 300 roubles or more. The agent “lends” them, not dreaming,
however, to see them again. At the end of the year the agent finds
himself several thousands of roubles in pocket, the higher official
drives his carriage on a surprisingly small stipend, and the lower
officials, having been put into their office by the higher, do not even
ask for their salary, and yet manage to live in houses of their own
procuring.[13]

Again, gambling and drunkenness are two principal snares besetting
foreign traders in Siberia, whose time in winter hangs heavily, and
where, in seaport towns, officers and large consumers expect to be
frequently _fêted_ and invited to drink. Immorality is the third snare,
which leads many astray who are removed from the restraints of home,
and who otherwise hold their heads above gambling and insobriety.

The trade customs of Nikolaefsk were, in some respects, superior to
those in the interior,--due, no doubt, to the influence of the Germans
and Americans. In the bazaars of Petersburg one has to bargain for
everything. A shopman asked me, for instance, 10_s._ for a box, for
which he afterwards “touted” to me, and took 7_s._ At Nikolaefsk
business is done at fixed prices, and I was glad to find that, though
compelled to close their stores for many hours on the greater Russian
festivals, the foreign merchants, for the most part, did not open at
all on Sunday.

The weather during my stay on the Lower Amur was chilly and
disagreeable, and the season for garden produce was about a fortnight
late. On August 19th we ate new potatoes. They cost 2½_d._ per lb.,
but eight days later they cost but 1_d._ per lb. Cucumbers were ready
on the 10th of August, and on the 27th they were selling for 3_s._
per hundred. Eggs cost 5_s._ per hundred, fresh butter 2_s._ 3_d._ per
pound, and beef from 7_d._ to 8½_d._ On August 27th we had our first
spring cabbage made into little pies and eaten with soup. The price of
these cabbages, to a “friend,” was 5_d._ each, but they were expected
shortly to fall to 16_s._ or 20_s._ per hundred. I do not remember
tasting mutton, but was informed that a good sheep weighs about half a
cwt., and costs alive, at Nikolaefsk, from 22_s._ to 30_s._

In Western Siberia, about Tomsk, a sheep can be bought for 2_s._ I
am told that Russians in general abhor mutton, and my informant’s
housekeeper wonders the English can eat it, for _she_ would as
willingly eat cat, dog, or rat as such “garbage.” Game and fish were
surprisingly plentiful. I bought in the streets at Nikolaefsk a
capercailzie (called _glukhar_, or deaf bird) for 10_d._, which was
thought by no means cheap; and a blackcock was offered for a similar
price. The cost of salmon, however, was most surprising. Up to the 20th
August, salmon trout, weighing from 10 to 12 lbs., cost as much as
5_d._ each, but they were then said to be _dear_. On the 15th August
a large salmon, the first fish of the season, and weighing perhaps 15
lbs., was offered to me for 7½_d._, but this was considered quite “a
fancy price.” From the 1st September to the 17th, during which period
the large fish are caught, weighing from 15 lbs. to 25 lbs., they may
be bought for 10_s._ per hundred, or 1_d._ each![14]

I was fortunate in finding at Nikolaefsk some English books, and among
them the travels of Collins, Knox, and Ravenstein, on the Amur. The
reading of these occupied much of my time, and I sometimes wandered
down to the river-side--especially in the morning--to the pier, to
watch the Gilyaks sell their fish.[15] Moored alongside the pier were
some lighters of English build, which were failures for the particular
purpose for which they had been constructed, though they made admirable
landing-places. There were also several barges converted into floating
shops, one of which was the property of a Frenchman, who had been a
tutor in England. He dealt largely with the Gilyaks, and offered me a
live eagle, obtained from them, for 6_s._; a fish-skin coat for 8_s._,
and a tiger’s skin for £3 10_s._ For bear-skins he asked from 10_s._
upwards, whereas in Krasnoiarsk they sell from 10_s._ down to 3_s._
each.

Thus passed by my enforced stay at Nikolaefsk, and, after trying in
vain to get a passage to Japan, I determined to retrace my steps by the
post-boat, which I started to do on Saturday, 30th of August. Before
proceeding southwards, however, I must give some account, in the next
two chapters, of what I have been able to learn concerning Kamchatka
and the island of Sakhalin.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] So rare is it for them to see a visitor to the prison in these
parts, that some of the men supposed I was sent by some foreign
Government to inquire into their condition; and I heard that they
subsequently came to seek me with a written paper, but I was not in the
house when they called. My position having been explained to them, they
declined to leave the paper, and so I heard no more of the matter.

[2] They received from Government only £15 per annum for a clerk,
paper, and ink, and so were unable, they said, to get books for the
patients. I was glad therefore to send, and they were thankful to
accept, 50 copies of the New Testament--two for every room, and the
remainder to be given to departing convalescents who could read.

[3] In 1878 there entered the hospital 347 cases, suffering from 39
diseases, of which the principal were: bronchitis, 46; syphilis, 42;
fevers, 39; pleuritis, 26; internal cold, 18; rheumatism, 14; and so
on in diminishing numbers. During the six months immediately preceding
my visit they had received but 83 patients, whilst for the entire year
and a half 13 patients only had died. Besides these they had treated a
large number of slight ailments of out-patients, and given advice to
promiscuous applicants to the number of nearly 3,000.

[4] It was fitted for 100 male and five female patients, with superior
rooms for officers, and a separate apartment for syphilitic diseases,
in which last was a mad Russian soldier, who in early life had been
a travelling acrobat, and who inveighed to me in French against the
doctor, who, he said, kept him there in confinement. Hereditary
syphilis was reported to the Emperor to be the most dangerous disease
in the province, for an inquiry into which a commission of four
persons, with the whole medical staff, had been appointed. In a
hospital in Ekaterineburg I found half the patients, at Vladivostock
one-third, and in Krasnoiarsk one-fifth, suffering from syphilis, and
in Kamchatka they have a barrack for the treatment of this disease only.

[5] Thus at Perm, whilst a poor patient was received into the hospital
at the rate of ten days for 5_s._, better accommodation could be
secured for 1_s._ 4_d._ a day. At Vladivostock civilians paid 1_s._
9_d._ a day, the price being fixed on a three years’ average.

[6] This probably is worse towards Kamchatka; for in 1878 there were
four medical posts vacant--that of chemist at Nikolaefsk, and doctor
at Sofiisk, Ghijiga, and Okhotsk respectively--not a matter for much
wonder, seeing that the salary at the best was but £40 a year!

[7] This is a Semitic custom which has been retained by the Russians.
Even the Emperor and all members of the Imperial family are so
addressed--one reason given for the preference of the Christian to the
family name being, that to be a Christian is a greater honour than to
be an earthly noble.

[8] They raised it above the shoulders, holding the head of the nail
in the palm, and threw it down, making the point pass through a ring,
about an inch and a half in diameter, lying on the ground. The person
throwing it sometimes buried it to the head in the soil, whence another
had to unearth it, or it was driven through a piece of wood, from which
it was another’s business to extricate it. The feat appeared very easy,
but in the few attempts I made I did not succeed in sticking the pin in
the ground.

[9] Perhaps it was akin to the Mazourka, which had its birthplace
in Poland, for I remember witnessing a similar performance in the
salt-mines of Cracow. The second dance was a national one, by a single
pair, and something like a Scottish hornpipe, the man occasionally
sinking down almost to the ground. Then the pair waved handkerchiefs
to each other. I was told that this dance is made to represent the
various stages of courtship, and that a good dancer does not go through
the same figure twice. Another dance was by four couples, in which the
ship’s machinist figured prominently in his heavy boots. One man also
crawled on all fours, and twice passed through the extended legs of
another, and so they continued till the cotton shirts of the men showed
they were getting wet, and the company were growing tired.

[10] The Starovers object to smoking upon the literal meaning of the
text, “That which cometh out of the mouth, this defileth a man.”
According to Dr. Pinkerton, an ukase was issued in 1634 condemning
those who took snuff, or sold or even possessed tobacco, to be knouted,
to have their nostrils torn open, or ears cut off, and to be sent into
exile.

[11] There came to it, in 1878, 12 merchant vessels, bringing
manufactured goods to the value of £52,781; alcohol, £4,705; and
wines, beer, and porter, £1,604. I was told by one of the merchants
that Hamburg is the cheapest market for goods for a new country, there
being more imitations made there than elsewhere, which perhaps accounts
for the complaint made to the Russian Government that the imported
manufactures are of the lowest quality. The same merchant told me,
however, that when he imported good articles, the Russians merely
admired them; but that when he imported cheap ones, they _bought_ them.

[12] He had, indeed, already retired in a fashion; for the winter
season at Nikolaefsk had become to him so insupportably dull, that
for the last few years he had posted off in autumn to Petersburg and
other European markets, and then, chartering a schooner of 350 tons
with merchandise, he had either accompanied it round the remainder of
the globe, or crossed the Atlantic to America to see his parents, and
then sailed over the Pacific by the following spring. In this way he
had several times made the circuit of the world, going west or east,
as business or inclination decided. He allowed 18 days in winter for a
sledge journey of 3,300 miles, from Moscow to Irkutsk.

[13] These and similar practices are not confined to merchants, but go
down even to the isvostchiks, who come to Petersburg from the country
and hire themselves to their masters by the month, having to bring in
5_s._ a day. At the end of their term the master is said to do his best
to swindle the cabmen, whilst they, taking their food and scanty wages,
do their best to make a picking from their fares. Sometimes, however,
the biter is bitten; for driving in the capital one day my isvostchik
pointed to a large building, and said that he had just brought there
a well-dressed woman, who had asked him to drive at the side of the
pavement, because the road was better there, she said; and then, when
opposite the door, she had sprung off the low vehicle, and run in
without paying.

[14] About 500 tons of them are salted yearly at Nikolaefsk, for winter
use, the Government having, annually, two contracts for 16 tons, and
others besides. For the most part, however, the fish of the province
is consumed where it is caught, and it is only quite recently that
exportation in small quantities has commenced.

[15] The plentiful season commenced on August 25th, and salmon were
sold for five roubles per hundred. These were commonly used for
salting, but I found that they sold pieces of dried salmon and other
fish a foot long, at the rate of 1_s._ per hundred, as winter food for
dogs. Among the less valued fish of the Amur are the dolphin, trout,
and others, known by the name of _sazan_, _karass_, and a white fish
called _suig_--the last being esteemed in Petersburg a delicacy.

CHAPTER XLVIII.

_KAMCHATKA._

The Upper Primorsk.--History of north-eastern maritime
discovery.--Travellers in the Upper Primorsk.--The Sea of
Okhotsk and fisheries.--Bush’s journey.--Okhotsk and its
natives.--Kamchatka.--Its volcanoes, earthquakes, springs.--Garden
produce and animals.--Kamchatdales.--Their number and
character.--The Koriaks.--Their warlike spirit.--Houses of
settled and wandering Koriaks.--Food.--Herds of deer.--Marriage
customs.--Putting sick and aged to death.--The Chukchees.--Their
habitat.--Diminution of fur animals.--Vegetation.--Intoxicating
plants.--Nordenskiöld on the Chukchee coast.--Onkelon antiquities.

North-eastern Siberia, or the Upper Primorsk, is to be the subject
of this chapter, for which I have chosen the title of Kamchatka as
best recalling the locality. Unlike the Amur, of which we have been
treating, this portion of the Sea-coast province cannot be spoken of
as new; for its discovery dates back more than a century. Of late
years, all eyes have been turned in this direction by the maritime
achievements of Professor Nordenskiöld, who, having completed his
wonderful travel by water, was being fêted at Yokohama, whilst I was
lying weather-bound off the coast.[1]

During my stay at Nikolaefsk, I was further north than the capital
of Kamchatka, and Petropavlovsk was distant only a few days’ sail.
Intervening, however, was the Sea of Okhotsk, the mention of which so
often recurs in connection with the north-eastern parts of Siberia.[2]
Formerly it was much frequented by whales. The captain of the _Tunguse_
told me at Nikolaefsk that, as a young man, he used to go to the
Okhotsk Sea in a whaler; but so many of these animals had been killed,
he said, that during one season they caught only three of them, which
he thought poor. At Vladivostock, however, I met with Mr. Lindholm,
who has a steamer and a sailing-ship engaged in the whale trade, and
from him I gathered that at the present high price of whalebone, it
answers well if, during a season, a boat takes two large whales.[3]
The whales feed on the molluscs of the Okhotsk Sea, some of which
Erman mentions as being eaten by the Chinese.[4] Whether the molluscs
are less abundant than of yore, or whether so many whales have been
killed that few remain, the diminution of the trade was impressed on my
mind by meeting in the Primorsk several Finlanders who had left their
fatherland in the expectation of speedily making their fortunes by
whaling in the Okhotsk Sea; but their project proved a bubble.[5]

The only man, I believe, other than an aboriginal, who has travelled
round the Okhotsk Sea, starting from Nikolaefsk, by land, is Mr.
Bush, the author of “Reindeer, Dogs, and Snow-shoes,” all three of
which he certainly had ample opportunity of becoming acquainted with.
Nothing, perhaps, in his journey would appear more remarkable to those
unacquainted with the records of Arctic travel than his sleeping,
night after night, in the open air of a Siberian winter, between a
couple of ordinary blankets, lined with deerskin, between which, on
awaking, he sometimes found himself buried, as were his dogs, beneath
recently-fallen snow. Proceeding round the coast, the first village we
approach after leaving the Amur is Udskoi, with 150 inhabitants. It is
situated on the river Ud, and was one of the earliest Cossack stations.
Further north is Port Ayan, to which, in 1844, the American Company
transferred their station for trading in fish and furs.

On the Okhota, further north, is the town of Okhotsk, which has given
its name to the adjoining sea. Its population was never large, though
it had a certain amount of activity before 1807, when the burdens of
many thousands of horses passed through to the Russian settlements on
the Pacific. It is a sorry-looking place of 200 inhabitants, though
many a traveller has been glad to reach it after a severe journey from
Yakutsk. The only animals kept at Okhotsk, says Mr. Knox, are cows
and dogs. In summer the dogs are shrewd enough to go into the water
and catch their own salmon, wading into the stream and standing, like
storks, till the fish appear. The natives living on this western coast
are the Lamuti, a seafaring Tunguse tribe, said to be uncorrupted
from their primitive simplicity, either by the tricks of the Russian
merchants or those of the aboriginal Yakutes. From Okhotsk to
Nikolaefsk is a voyage of 400 miles, but there is no road by land:
hence the remarkable nature of Bush’s journey.

The traveller who, from Okhotsk, wishes to visit Kamchatka may reach
Petropavlovsk by sea through the Kuriles, or continue round the coast
by road. The latter course takes him through Yamsk to Ghijiga, at the
north of the bay, a distance of 1,100 miles. He then descends along
the western coast of Kamchatka to Tigil, 760 miles further, at which
point he strikes inland to a valley lying below active volcanoes, and
so reaches Petropavlovsk, on the shore of the North Pacific, a land
journey from Okhotsk of 2,540 miles, accomplished by deer, horses, and
dogs.

Kamchatka is so called after the name of its principal river. The
peninsula is 800 miles long, and from 30 to 120 miles wide; its total
area being about 80,000 square miles, or five times the size of
Switzerland. The southern extremity, called Cape Lopatka, is a low,
narrow tongue of land, which, as it proceeds northwards, widens and
rises into rocky and barren hills, with small valleys timbered with
willow and stunted birch. Two degrees north the range divides, one
portion running nearly due north and the other taking a north-easterly
direction. In the fork formed by these two chains lies the valley of
the river Kamchatka. The western chain rarely rises above 3,000 feet,
but the eastern chain has many high volcanoes, among them Kluchevsky,
which is somewhat higher than Mont Blanc, and not far from the sea.[6]

Earthquakes are more frequent, perhaps, in Kamchatka than in any other
country. The number of shocks felt at Petropavlovsk averages eight
annually.[7]

The climate of Kamchatka is much milder than in the eastern parts of
the mainland. The frost sets in about the middle of October, but up to
December the temperature rarely falls 10° below the freezing point of
Fahrenheit, though in severe winters the thermometer sometimes sinks to
25° below zero. Snow-storms with wind, called _poorgas_, are prevalent
in February and March. They sometimes take up whole masses of snow, and
form drifts several feet deep in a few minutes, burying, it may be,
travellers, dogs, and sledges, who remain thus till the storm is over.
Dogs begin to howl at the approach of a poorga, and try to burrow in
the snow if the wind is cold or violent.

About 50 miles west of Petropavlovsk is a remarkable warm spring, into
which when you enter, says Mr. Collins, the sensation is as if the skin
would be removed, whilst the stones and mud on the bottom fairly burn
the feet, added to which the steam and gas, ascending from this natural
caldron, fairly take away the breath. In a short time, however, bathers
become red like lobsters, and find the temperature enjoyable. The water
is very buoyant. It is used by the natives for all sorts of diseases.

The valley watered by the Kamchatka is composed of fine mould, and
has abundant natural productions--fir, birch, larch, poplar, willow,
cedar, and juniper, and that of larger size than in the same latitude
elsewhere in Asia. Raspberries, strawberries, whortleberries, currants,
and cranberries abound; and flowers are seen in spring in almost
tropical luxuriance. There is much grass in the lower lands, and
Mr. Hill records an extraordinary phenomenon in a place he visited
respecting the growth and preservation of potatoes.[8] There grows,
likewise, a plant in the country called by the natives _krapeva_, from
which they make a coarse but very durable cloth. It resembles our
stinging-nettle, but is of larger growth and stronger fibre.

Among the animals of Kamchatka there is none with which the traveller
becomes more familiar than the dog, which is found wild on the hills.
The color is usually buff or silver-grey, and in nature and disposition
he resembles the mastiff and the wolf, sleeping, like the latter, more
by day than by night. He is intelligent as regards his work, but not
affectionate, as may be said of the steppe dogs, and has to be ruled
by the rod. It is not usually safe to leave these dogs loose, for they
kill fowls, deer, smaller dogs, and sometimes even children.[9] As
on the Amur, they are usually fed on fish, particularly the salmon,
besides which there are caught in Kamchatka, or off its coasts, the
cod, herring, smelt, as also whales, walruses, and seals. The country
abounds with geese, ducks, and a variety of wild fowl.

The southern part of the peninsula is inhabited by the Kamchatdales,
which is the name the Russians give them; but they are called
_Konchalo_ by their neighbours the Koriaks. They have large round
faces, prominent cheek-bones, small sunken eyes, flattened noses,
black hair, and tawny complexions. Their language, very guttural, is
largely inflexional, or composed of invariable root forms modified by
prefixes. The poverty of the language may be inferred from their having
but one word for the sun and moon (_khiht_), but still more from the
circumstance that it has scarcely any names for fish or birds, which
are merely distinguished by the moon in which they are most plentiful.
The language is spoken in the south among the Kuriles, and in the
extreme north about Penjinsk. Otherwise it is fast dying out, as is
also the race. In certain parts the people are almost Russified. When
Captain Cochrane travelled in Siberia, he surprised his friends by
taking home a Kamchatdale wife, but this did not surprise me after
meeting at Nikolaefsk, at dinner, a Kamchatdale lady who had married a
Russian officer. I saw, too, at Khabarofka, and on the steamer, another
Kamchatdale, of less presentable appearance--a cleric, wearing his
hair in a queue, perhaps for convenience in travel. He was taken, as a
boy of 10 years old, to Irkutsk to be educated; afterwards sent to be
minister in a church in Russian America, and subsequently became priest
of Okhotsk. He is now near Blagovestchensk, and when I saw him was
sick. He looked a poor miserable creature, and was pointed out to me by
Baron Stackelberg, of whom he had openly asked an alms, as “_ce pauvre
diable_.” He appeared much pleased with some books I gave him, but was
altogether about the poorest specimen of a priest I saw in Russia.

The number of the Kamchatdales, strictly so called, is estimated at
3,000. Their capital is Petropavlovsk, the only town on the eastern
coast of the peninsula.[10] The little town points with pride to its
two monuments, erected, one to Behring and the other to La Perouse, and
its old fortifications, now covered with grass and flowers, serve to
recall the defeat of the English and French allies, who attacked this
village during the Crimean War.

The Kamchatdales are a people of much amiability and honesty. Their
houses are always open to the stranger, whom they never weary of
waiting upon, and from whom they soon forget an injury.[11] They have
given up, to a large extent, their Shamanism, though they still take
care, when hunting an animal, not to pronounce its name, lest they
should be visited by ill luck. The Kamchatdales have not the heroic
character of their neighbours the Koriaks. Their plaintive songs do not
celebrate battles, but love, sledge travels, fishing, and hunting. In
their dances they mimic admirably the movements of animals, bounding
like the deer, running like the fox, and even entering the water to
swim like the seal.

The northern half of the peninsula, and the mainland up to the 65th
parallel, are inhabited by the Koriaks, their district extending
laterally from the 130th meridian to Behring’s Sea, and north of this
region to the Frozen Ocean live the Chukchees.[12]

The Anadir is the one river of this region worth mentioning; but
flowing as it does on the polar circle, and near the limit where
trees cease to grow, it traverses only solitudes without towns. The
Russian garrison was obliged to abandon the small fort of Anadirsk,
constructed on its banks for a fur depôt, at the beginning of the
eighteenth century, and the Chukchees set it on fire. It is now
replaced by four little villages, with a united population of about
200, consisting of aborigines and Cossacks living a half-savage life,
though speaking Russ. The Anadir, like the rest of the rivers in the
Chukchee and Kamchatdale countries, is so full of fish at the breeding
season that the water seems alive with them. When the shoals of salmon
mount the river, the water rises like a bank, and the fish are so
pressed together that they can be taken by hand. The water ceases to be
drinkable, and its smell and taste become intolerable, by reason of the
millions of its inhabitants in a state of decomposition.

The Koriaks seem to be related to the Chukchees, and speak a dialect
approaching theirs. They are divided into settled and wandering
Koriaks, the former occupying themselves in fishing, the latter as
reindeer keepers and hunters. Their southern limit in Kamchatka is
the village of Tigil, whither they go once a year to exchange their
commodities. Travellers do not speak well of the settled Koriaks.
Deprived of their herds of reindeer, they have no resource but fishing
and traffic with foreign sailors and Russian dealers. The first are
said to have taught them drinking and debauchery, and the second lying
and stealing. They are eaten up with misery and vice, and are the most
degraded of the Siberian tribes. Only the women tattoo their faces,
thinking thereby to arrest the ravages of time. Their winter yourts
may be classed among the most extraordinary of human habitations.
They are built somewhat like a huge wooden hour-glass, 20 feet high,
in the shape of the letter X, and are entered by climbing a pole on
the outside, and then sliding down another through the “waist” of the
hour-glass, which waist serves for door, window, and chimney. Holes
are cut in the logs for climbing, but they are too small for the
heavily-clad fur boots of a novice, who has, therefore, amid sparks
and smoke, to hug the pole, slide down, and as best he can avoid
the fire at the bottom. The interior presents a strange appearance,
lighted only from above. The beams, rafters, and logs are smoked to
a glossy blackness. A wooden platform, raised about a foot from the
earth, extends out from the walls on three sides, to a width of six
feet, leaving an open spot 8 or 10 feet in diameter in the centre
for the fire, and a huge copper kettle of melting snow, in which is
usually simmering fish, reindeer meat, dried salmon, or seals’ blubber
with rancid oil; these make up the Koriaks’ bill of fare. When any
one enters the yourt, the inmates are apprised of the fact by a total
eclipse of the chimney hole. Among the wandering Koriaks an entrance
to the tent is effected by creeping on the ground through a hole into
a large open circle, which forms the interior. A fire burns upon the
ground in the centre, and round the inner circumference of the yourt
are constructed apartments called _pologs_, which are separated one
from another by skin curtains, and combine the advantages of privacy
with warmth and fugginess! These pologs are about four feet high and
eight feet square. They are warmed and lighted by a burning fragment of
moss floating in a wooden bowl of seal oil, which vitiates the air and
creates an intolerable stench.

Mr. Kennan gives a humorous description of his first supper among the
wandering Koriaks, and their substitute for bread, called _manyalla_,
of which the original elements are clotted blood, tallow, and
half-digested moss taken from the stomach of the reindeer, where it
is supposed to have undergone some change fitting it for second-hand
consumption. These curious ingredients are boiled with a few handfuls
of dried grass, and the dark mass is then moulded into small loaves and
frozen for future use. As a mark of special attention, the host bites
off a choice morsel from a large cube of venison in his greasy hand,
and then, taking it from his mouth, offers it to his guest.

The wandering Koriaks necessarily move their habitation frequently;
for a herd of 4,000 or 5,000 deer (Mr. Bush mentions one Koriak as
possessing 15,000 of them) paw up the snow, and in a very few days eat
all the moss within a mile of the encampment. This independent kind of
life has given to the Koriaks the impatience of restraint, independence
of civilization, and perfect self-reliance, which distinguish them
from the Kamchatdales and other settled inhabitants of Siberia. They
are most hospitable, and the best of husbands and fathers. Mr. Kennan,
during his sojourn of 2½ years among them, never saw a Koriak strike
any of his belongings. They treat their animals with kindness, and will
on no account sell a deer alive. A slain deer may be had for a pound
of tobacco. Among the Koriaks the animal costs 10_s._, at Okhotsk from
20_s._ to 30_s._, and on the Amur £5.

Like the Kamchatdales, the Chukchees are obliged to earn their
wives by working a year or more in the service of the prospective
father-in-law, and even then the lover may be refused. In any case,
at the wedding ceremony he has to pursue the object of his devotion
through the pologs of a tent, the bridesmaids doing all they can
to facilitate the passage of the bride, and, by keeping down the
curtains and whipping him with switches, to hinder the progress of the
bridegroom. The lover usually overtakes the maiden, however, in the
last polog but one, and there they remain together for seven days and
seven nights.

The treatment of the sick and aged in these regions is remarkable,
for they put them to death to avoid protracted suffering. I heard the
same alleged of the Gilyaks, but it was afterwards contradicted. The
Koriaks look upon this as the natural end of their existence; and when
they think the time come, they choose in what manner the last office
of affection shall be rendered. Some ask to be stoned, and some to be
killed by the hatchet or knife. All the young Koriaks learn the art of
giving the fatal _coup de grace_ as painlessly as possible.

Sometimes the younger request the old to wait a bit; but in any case
immediately after death the corpse is burnt, to allow the spirit to
escape into the air. Formerly, infanticide was common among them, and
of twins one was always sacrificed. None of the Siberian tribes have
shown such bravery in resisting the Russians as have the Koriaks and
Chukchees, and some of these still retain their independence.

The Chukchee coast extends from Chaunskaia Bay, round Behring’s
peninsula, to the Anadir river. The fauna of this part of Siberia is
richer than in the west. Probably some of the American animals have
crossed the ice of Behring’s Straits, and are mingled with those of
Asia. The Alpine hare, the bear, the marmot, the weasel, the otter,
are common, and wild deer roam in herds of thousands. Snakes, frogs,
and toads are not found in North-Eastern Siberia nor in Kamchatka. In
the latter country, however, are lizards, which are regarded as of
evil omen, and when found are cut up in pieces, that they may tell
no one who killed them. The country teems with lemmings, which from
time to time migrate in myriads, crossing in a straight line rivers,
lakes, even arms of the sea, though decimated on the way by shoals of
hungry fish. Travellers are sometimes stayed for hours, waiting the
marching-past of these huge armies.[13]

Many fur-bearing animals in Kamchatka and the Chukchee country have
greatly diminished in number since the advent of the Russian hunters,
as is the case in the neighbouring seas, where some of the species have
altogether disappeared.[14]

The aspect on the two sides of Behring’s Straits is very different.
America is wooded, whilst the Chukchee country has no vegetation but
lichens and mosses, and from a distance looks completely bare. Among
the flora, however, of North-Eastern Siberia is a peculiar mushroom
spotted like a leopard, and surmounted with a small hood--the fly
agaric, which here has the top scarlet, flecked with white points.
In other parts of Russia it is poisonous. Among the Koriaks it is
intoxicating, and a mushroom of this kind sells for three or four
reindeer. So powerful is the fungus that the native who eats it
remains drunk for several days, and by a process too disgusting to be
described, half-a-dozen individuals may be successively intoxicated
by the effects of a single mushroom, each in a less degree than his
predecessor. The natives dig for roots and tubers, which serve for food
or making intoxicating drinks. They eat also the green bark of the
birch mixed with caviar.

In certain valleys, especially in those of Kamchatka, the grass exceeds
the height of a man, and the Russian settlers make hay three times a
year. The culture of cereals is of little profit; oats thrive best.
Hemp has been grown, but not in sufficient quantities to replace the
nettle as a textile thread. In fact, gardening has succeeded better
than agriculture, and now the natives cultivate in hundreds of gardens
cabbages, potatoes, beetroot, turnips, carrots, and other vegetables
introduced by the Russians in the last century. All these, however,
added to their other kinds of food, barely give sustenance enough to
the Kamchatdales and their dogs, without which it would be almost
impossible for them to leave their huts at certain times of the year.
During the four months of summer they must lay up dry fish to provide
for eight months of winter, and the normal amount of winter food for
a pack of half-a-dozen Kamchatdale dogs is 100,000 herrings. Besides
this the owner’s family must be nourished, and hence, if a bad season
comes, and the fishing or hunting fails, death is certain; for to the
greater part of the natives who have no deer, winter and want are
synonymous terms.

It was on the Chukchee coast that the vessel of Professor
Nordenskiöld--the _Vega_--was frozen in. The ship had continued her
eastward course to the 28th September, and had arrived to within a few
miles of the open water of Behring’s Straits. New ice had, however,
begun to form, and the ship had passed into a narrow and shallow
channel, where the crew made fast for the night, hoping to disentangle
themselves in the morning without difficulty, especially as whalers
had sometimes remained in these parts till the middle of October.
They were disappointed, however. For at least a month the wind blew
from the north, and by the 25th of November the new ice was two feet
thick, so that there was no hope of getting free till the following
summer. The _Vega’s_ winter harbour was at the northernmost part of
Behring’s Straits, a mile from land, and only about two miles from
the point where the straits open into the Pacific, for the passage of
which a single hour’s steam at full speed would have sufficed. This
was disappointing to the professor’s party, but they built a magnetic
observatory, made what discoveries they could in the interest of
science, and formed acquaintance with the Chukchees. They describe
the natives’ tents as kept at so great a heat that the children were
usually naked. The women wore only a girdle, and the children sometimes
ran from one tent to another without shoes or clothing in a temperature
below freezing point.

Some of the party made excavations in the neighbourhood of
dwelling-places of a race that was driven by the Chukchees hundreds of
years ago to islands in the Polar Sea. The people were called Onkelon.
Their houses were in groups, and built, or at least partly so, of
whale-bones and driftwood, covered with earth, and connected by long
passages with the open air and with one another. The kitchen middens
contained bones of whale, walrus, seal, reindeer, etc., together with
stone and bone implements, fastened by leather thongs to wooden handles.

The language of the Chukchees and Koriaks has not been reduced to
writing, nor do these people attempt to express ideas by signs or
pictures. The Russians, however, have attempted something towards
Christianizing them, and the first missionary arrived so far back as
1704, though baptism did not become general among them till 1800.
Some of the Chukchees, notwithstanding their savage and independent
spirit (which has become somewhat softened in the few who have received
baptism), are just and honest; and though implacable to an enemy, are
staunch and true to a friend. They are only nominal subjects of Russia,
and it will apparently take long before the Russian Government can hope
to Christianize and civilize them.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Among early sources of information concerning voyages to the
north-eastern seas, we have the “History of Kamchatka and the Kurile
Islands,” translated from the Russian by Dr. Grieve in 1764. In 1802
Martin Sauer wrote an account of a geographical and astronomical
expedition to the north parts of Russia, the mouth of the Kolima, to
East Cape, and islands in the Eastern Ocean, performed by Commodore
Joseph Billings from 1785 to 1794; and within 20 years afterwards
Captain Burney published a chronological history of north-eastern
voyages of discovery, and of the early eastern navigation of the
Russians; but these brought us no further than 1819. The admirable
“Géographie Universelle” of M. Réclus (by far the best geographical
work on Siberia I have met with) gives a map showing the routes not
only of the principal travellers by land, but also furnishes an
excellent account of Siberian maritime discoveries down to the present
day.

To confine ourselves more particularly to Kamchatka, we have the
travels in 1787-8 of M. de Lesseps, Consul of France, and interpreter
to the Count de la Perouse, who landed in the peninsula, and thence
made his way by land round the northern coast of the Okhotsk Sea,
and crossed Asia and Europe to Paris. A quarter of a century later,
Peter Dobell followed the same route, and was deserted by his Tunguse
guides in the vicinity of Okhotsk, which town, however, he at length
reached, and crossed Siberia to Europe. Accounts of remarkable travels
in this part of the country have been written by two Americans--Messrs.
Bush and Kennan--who went, in 1865, to make preliminary surveys for
a proposed route for telegraph wires intended to traverse Behring’s
Straits from America, continue across the peninsula, and round the
Sea of Okhotsk to Nikolaefsk, and thence to the Chinese frontier. The
enterprise was ultimately abandoned, but not till the country had
been surveyed from the straits to the mouth of the Amur, in doing
which these authors passed through portions of country untravelled by
foreigners before.

For a short account of the early exploration of Siberia by sea and
land, _see_ Appendix E.

[2] It is a great gulf shut in from the North Pacific Ocean by the
promontory of Kamchatka, and a chain of islands reaching down to Japan
It measures from 1,200 to 1,400 miles from north to south, and from 700
to 800 miles from east to west, the greatest depth being 700 yards.

[3] It was curious to hear that whales are now more shy than formerly,
and that the whalers dare not row their boats, but must sail them to
the monsters, who are then sometimes frightened away even by the baling
out of water. I learned, too, that in the Sea-coast province they have
great difficulty in procuring a sufficiency of suitable sailors for the
trade; for although ordinary seamen will do for a part of the crew,
there ought to be about eight of the officers and men who are experts.

[4] I saw a considerable number of dried _trepangs_, or sea-snails, at
Vladivostock, worth in China 30 dollars the pickle of 133 lbs., say
1_s._ a lb. The Chinese employ them in the preparation of a nutritious
soup in common with sharks’ fins, edible birds’ nests, and an esculent
seaweed, or cabbage, of which last 3,000 tons are taken yearly from the
bays of the Sea-coast province.

[5] They sailed round Cape Horn to Siberia, but met with foul weather,
which delayed them for a whole season, and initiated their failure. Not
having the means to return to Finland, they were getting their living
as best they could. The commander of the _Onon_, Captain Stjerncreutz,
was one of them. I discovered that he was a cousin of Miss Heijkel,
my fellow-passenger in Finland in 1876, who, to help me in procuring
a horse, introduced me to the family I have mentioned at Wasa. This
was the third Finlander I chanced to meet in Siberia with whom I could
claim a sort of acquaintance.

[6] Many ranges of terraces and secondary summits surround the mountain
as with an enormous pedestal, so that its base has a circumference
of not less than 200 miles. The fissured summit constantly smokes,
and twice or thrice a year throws out cinders. Ashes and dust have
sometimes been carried to a distance of 180 miles, and covered the
ground many inches deep, preventing the Kamchatdales from sledging. An
eruption in 1737 ejected much lava, and this, dissolving the glaciers,
poured into the neighbouring valleys a deluge of waters. In 1854
another stream of fire descended from Mount Kluchevsky. From the crater
of the Avasha, immediately behind Petropavlovsk, have been thrown at
the same time stones, lava, and water. The following are some of the
active volcanoes: Korakovsky, 11,200 feet; Chevelutch, 10,529; Jupanof,
8,478; Avatcha, 8,344; and the Great Tolbach, 7,618; whilst, of the
extinct volcanoes, Uchkin is the highest, with an elevation of 10,977
feet.

[7] Mr. Hill describes one lasting no less than eight minutes. During
the whole of this time rumbling and loud noises were heard beneath the
ground, and the earth trembled violently. Some of those who experienced
it said they thought at one moment that the earth was sinking beneath
them, and the sea about to rush in upon the land, and the next that
they were rising upon the crust of the crater of a volcano in terrible
eruption beneath the ground.

[8] Admiral Ricord, a former governor of Kamchatka, imported potatoes
for seed, and they were planted, but not taken up the following autumn.
The next year, being found abundant and good, they were allowed to
remain, where, dying and propagating continually, they yielded more
than were locally required. Mr. Hill accounts for the phenomenon by the
fact that neither damp nor frost could reach the potatoes; for though
in winter the snow covers the surface of the frozen ground, yet so
great in this vicinity is the internal volcanic heat that the earth is
quite dry, and never frozen below a few inches from the surface.

[9] They love sledging, and upon a journey of four or five days will
work from 14 to 16 hours out of the 24 without tasting food, the idea
of their masters being that, when travelling, the less food the dogs
receive, short of starvation, the better. The travelling sledge weighs
about 25 lbs. (a freight sledge is heavier), and a good team will
travel from 40 to 60 miles a day. When running, they must be paired
with dogs known to each other from puppies; and, should they happen
to cross the scent of a deer, so fond are they of its flesh that they
sometimes become utterly unmanageable, upset the sledge (or _nartee_,
as it is called), and leave the driver, it may be, to perish in the
snow.

[10] It is situated on the right shore of the splendid Bay of Avatcha,
which may claim with Rio Janeiro and San Francisco to be one of the
finest harbours in the world. It is perfectly protected from the winds,
and, transplanted to a more favourable position, it might be one of
the greatest of markets; but since the fishery of the whale in the
surrounding seas has lost its importance, Petropavlovsk has sunk from a
place of 1,000 inhabitants to one of 500. Mr. Dobell, who lived in the
peninsula five years, says that he found there many dykes and mounds,
from the existence of which he argues that the country was once thickly
populated.

[11] Their hospitality is carried even to excess. They visit one
another, for instance, during a month or six weeks, until the generous
host, finding his stock exhausted, gives the hint by serving up a
dish called “_tolkootha_,” a hodge-podge, composed of meat, fish, and
vegetables; upon which the guests depart the following day.

[12] The Russian calendar gives the following numbers to these peoples:
Kamchatdales, 4,360; Koriaks, 5,250; and Chukchees, 12,000. Mr.
Kennan, however, doubts this, and thinks that they do not exceed 5,000
altogether.

[13] The industrious little creatures store up their grain and roots
underground, covering them, _it is said_, before their migration,
with poisonous plants, to hinder other animals from eating them. The
Kamchatdales, in times of necessity, help themselves to these stores,
but do not fail to replace what they take by _caviar_, or remains of
fish, that they may not alarm such benevolent purveyors.

[14] Whalers have now to go much further north for their prey; the
sea-otter, with its precious skin, and the sea-lion are rarely seen on
the strand and rocks of Behring’s isle, and the sea-cow is completely
exterminated. The sea-bear, as Réclus calls it, but which I suspect
is that we know as the seal, was threatened also with extermination,
until the Americans purchased the monopoly of taking them on Russian
territory.

CHAPTER XLIX.

_THE ISLAND OF SAKHALIN._

Sakhalin (or Saghalien), an island nearly as large as Portugal, was
not generally known to be an island until a century ago.[1] A gloomy
interest now attaches to it, because of late years the Russians have
been deporting thither a large proportion of their criminal convicts,
so that it promises to be the Siberian prison of the future.

As Sakhalin extends over eight degrees of latitude, the climate varies
considerably; but at the best, in Aniva Bay, it cannot be called other
than severe, for while the latitude is the same as that of Lombardy,
the average temperature is that of Archangel. Besides this low
temperature, the climate is one of great humidity. At Kusunai, in the
south of the island, 250 days in the year are foggy or rainy, and the
east coast is worse.

The vegetation of the island resembles that of the neighbouring Manchu
mainland, with the addition of some of the species common to the
Japanese archipelago, and among them a sort of bamboo, which, attaining
to the height of a man, covers whole mountains. Certain American
species also mingle with the Asiatic flora, so that out of 700 kinds of
phanerogamous plants, not more than 20 belong specially to Sakhalin.
The plants on the lowest grounds resemble those of the opposite
continent. The mountain slopes to the height of 500 yards are clothed
with conifers, and higher are birches and willows, above which are the
thick dark branches of creeping shrubs. The animals found on the island
resemble those of the continent, and the tiger at times crosses the ice
on the Mamia Strait to the northern portions; though no specimen has
been seen in the south, nor did the Aïnos at the advent of the Russians
know that animal even by name.

The population of the island is reckoned at 15,000. To the north are
about 2,000 Gilyaks. In the centre are the Oroks, or Orochi--Tunguses
of the same stock as the Manguns and Orochons of the Lower Amur; and
in the south are the Aïnos. These last are thought to have been the
aboriginal population, not only of Sakhalin and of the Kuriles, but
of the Japanese islands also. They have been driven to their present
locality by the Gilyaks and Oroks from the north, and by the Japanese
from the south, and the slavery to which the Japanese fishermen have
reduced them has contributed alike to their diminution and their moral
degradation.[2]

Judging from a photograph I chanced to procure of an Aïno, they have
large and wide cheeks, a narrow forehead, and eyes not so elongated
as with the Chinese races, and their appearance is more European. The
Aïno’s ample beard and moustache are worthy of a Russian. The Japanese,
representing, with the Russians, the “upper classes” in Sakhalin, have
established fishing-stations along the southern coast of the island,
managed by a population who live there for the season without their
families. On the south-eastern shore live 700 Chinese, engaged in
gathering trepangs and sea-cabbage. Réclus mentions a trade in this
last from the Bay of Paseat, in the south of the province, of £400 in
1864, £13,500 in 1865, £40,000 in 1866. The natives subsist on fish,
and eat no bread. I was told at Khabarofka that the Aïnos contrive to
make an intoxicating drink called _sakhe_--probably that described
by Miss Bird as obtained from the root of a tree--which, to attain
their highest notion of happiness, they drink to beastly intoxication.
As for the Russians in Sakhalin, nearly all are in the military or
prison service, and are supplied with provisions by the Government, the
resources of the island being utterly inadequate. I heard that a large
proportion of the convicts are employed in farming on a considerable
scale, but the cultivation of cereals and vegetables, and the raising
of cattle, have not yet, I think, made much progress. Whether they
can ever thrive in more than a certain number of sheltered valleys is
doubtful.

[Illustration: THE MILITARY POST AND PENAL COLONY AT PORT DUI IN
SAKHALIN.]

The Russian military posts are all by the sea. Dui is the principal,
situated about the middle of the western coast. On the shores of Aniva
Bay are the Korsakoff barracks, with a garrison of 500 soldiers.
Muravieff, near this, is a military post, and its port is perhaps the
best, or rather the least bad, in the island; for along a coast of
1,200 miles Sakhalin has not a single harbour where vessels can anchor
in real safety.

The island was held for a time jointly by Russia and Japan, and the
latter was not altogether disposed to give up her portion; but the
importation of convicts soon brought the Japanese to terms, and the
Russians are now sole masters. I am not aware that it has any metals,
though I heard of a surface iron-mine on the opposite coast near to
Nikolaefsk, belonging to Mr. Boutyn of Nertchinsk, which it was said
might be worked for scores of years without exhaustion, the mine being
similar in character to that which I saw in the Urals. The one mineral
production of Sakhalin is coal, of which 70,000 tons were raised in
1878. I heard the coal spoken of as good, but small. Recently it has
been described as “dusty nut-coal, suitable for smithy work, but not
for steaming.” Coal at Sakhalin costs more than in Japan or Australia.
The mines are let out by the Government to a company, which from the
first has seen small prosperity.[3]

The mention of the mines, and of those who work them, leads me to
speak of the prisons, about which I have official statistics. I
obtained information from several military and naval officers; also
from a soldier, a prison officer, and a civilian, all of whom had
been to Sakhalin, and most of whom spoke as eye-witnesses. At Dui, it
would seem, there are four large prisons. I heard of them, from one
who had lived in the island, as insufficiently heated in winter, and
over-crowded. Another report, sent secretly by a prisoner to my exile
informant, corroborated the alleged want of space. They said, however,
that additional buildings were in course of erection.[4]

The number of prisoners in the island in 1879 was about 2,600; half
were reported to be in prison, the remainder comparatively free. The
Sakhalin convicts are for the most part murderers, vagabonds, and
runaways, there being no “politicals” among them.[5]

Dui is one of the three places where the authorities may use, in
addition to the birch, the troichatka or plète, which I have described
(vol. i., p. 92). I have no trustworthy information as to the frequency
with which flogging is inflicted. At Tiumen the prison director said
that, of 80,000 exiles who had passed through his hands in four
years, he had flogged only one. This, perhaps, is an extreme in one
direction. An exile, purporting to give information he had received
from a prisoner at Dui, and also translating into French what was
supposed to be addressed to me by a Russian soldier from Sakhalin,
said that Tuesday and Saturday were flogging days at Dui, and that
they flogged from 40 to 50 a week. This, I afterwards learned, was
very much exaggerated; and I had strong suspicions at the time that
my interpreter was making up a story for my note-book, which he saw
me writing. It is, in fact, difficult to know what is the truth, as
so much exaggeration has been used concerning the flogging of Russian
prisoners.[6]

I saw at Nikolaefsk the wooden _kobyla_, or “mare,” on which the
culprit is laid; it is preferable, I should think, to the birching
“horse” in the Middlesex prison, Coldbath Fields, though, of course,
there can be no comparison between the birch and the plète. The latter
is a truly fearful instrument, but it is right to remember that the
Russians use it for the more part on such as we should hang outright.
Corporal punishment cannot be inflicted in Russia on a free man for a
first offence. Only the worst offenders are sent so far east as the
localities where the plète exists; and according to the law (Article
808) this punishment is reserved for those who, condemned to hard
labour, have committed further crime in Siberia, where it would seem
there are not wanting some desperate characters.

When we passed through Ekaterineburg, for instance, a horrible incident
had occurred only four days previously. A man had entered brandy-shops,
ordered drink, and then presented a revolver to the salesmen if they
dared to require payment, and had treated isvostchiks in a similar
manner. He was summoned before the court, but through some technicality
got off, and subsequently told one of his prosecutors that he would
kill the lot of them; whereupon a number of isvostchiks set upon him,
and wounded him with 30 stabs. Some four or five were awaiting trial
at the time of my visit. Again, a murder took place during my stay at
Nikolaefsk, at a small drinking-shop in the town, kept by a man and
his wife. Two soldiers were in the habit of going there, and at night
one said, “Let us go and kill those two and get what brandy we want.”
Accordingly, very early in the morning, they went, knocked at the door,
and, on the man opening it, one of the soldiers stabbed him. The other,
after some difficulty, killed the wife, and all but cut off her head. A
serving woman narrowly escaped stabbing, but rushed out of the window
and told the police. The soldiers were called out, and the two men
identified, whereupon they both confessed their crime, and were taken
to the guard-house to await legal proceedings, which would consign
them, not to death, but to hard labour, it was supposed, in Sakhalin,
for 15 or 20 years.

I think the worst thing I heard of Dui was about the prisoners’ food.
From two or three independent sources I was told that they did not
get enough. For some weeks one year they were reduced to a pound and
a half of bread a day, in consequence of an insufficient quantity of
flour having been sent to the island,--or, rather, by reason of the
ice breaking up that season so late that a fresh supply could not
be forwarded. Again, a naval officer told me that he had seen the
convicts, when bringing coal to his vessel, pick up and eat the scraps
which the seamen had thrown away. I should not think much of this,
however, for when I was on board a Russian man-of-war I saw fragments
of seamen’s biscuit tossed overboard such as any hungry man might well
be thankful for, and which, being of superior flour, a convict would
naturally relish in preference to his ordinary rye bread.

The soldier who came from Sakhalin told me that the prison fare
consisted, on four days a week, of 3 lbs. (Russian) of bread and ¼ lb.
of meat, and on three days, of 3 lbs. of bread and 1 lb. of fish, which
is the quantity of bread allowed to the soldiers there, and exceeds the
weight of bread given to English prisoners. It should be added that
one of my informants said the prisoners gambled. Cards, with brandy
at an exorbitant price, they manage to smuggle into the prison, and
then play for their food. Goryantchikoff draws a vivid picture of this
practice carried on at night. When all are supposed to be asleep, a
piece of carpet is spread, a candle lighted, and a sentinel posted.
The card-playing then begins, and often does not cease till morning;
and the prisoners, having no money, stake their food and clothes.
It is not matter for surprise, therefore, if some of the prisoners
find themselves with insufficient or very bad clothing, the frequent
cause of which should be borne in mind in connection with the reckless
statements sometimes published respecting the clothing of Russian
prisoners.

Making due allowance for exaggeration, however, I am disposed to think
that there is real cause for complaint regarding the food at Dui, as
to quality, if not quantity.[7] There are certain local circumstances
which would render it likely that the prisoners’ food in the Sea-coast
province, and especially Sakhalin, would not be so satisfactory as in
Western Siberia. The cost of provisions is very much higher in the
east, and the Government does not appear to allow proportionately
increased payment.[8]

Testimony went in the opposite direction as regards the prisoners’
labour, and all seemed of opinion that they were not overworked. The
agricultural convicts, from the great length and severity of the
winter, are idle the greater part of the year. The Polish exile said,
indeed, that the work was harder than at Kara, and that if the allotted
amount of work were unfinished, the miners were flogged; but when the
yearly output amounts to only 70,000 tons, it speaks for itself that
the getting of this quantity and loading the ships therewith is a mere
trifle for 1,000 or 1,500 men; and as in the other penal colonies of
Siberia, convicts suffer more, I judge, from inactivity than from
overwork. The miners spend 11 hours a day in the mine, from eight to
noon and one till eight; and then return to their barracks or houses,
not working, a German told me, so hard as English miners. One officer,
who had been much in Dui, said that the daily task of a prisoner was
not more than he himself could do in a couple of hours of really hard
work, and that the men are idle and spin out the work.

Another, in answer to my question, replied that there was no difference
perceptible in the general health of the convict miners and farmers;
and the traveller I have quoted from the _North China Herald_ goes so
far as to say, “The conclusion we arrived at was, that contentment
prevailed throughout, even the convicts giving no evidence of
discontent.”

To escape from the prisons of Dui has been comparatively easy, but
it is almost impossible to get far away, owing to the scarcity of
provisions and the nature of the country; and the difficulty will no
doubt be increased when the cable is laid[9] from De Castries Bay
to Dui. From this spot the runaway must first walk 200 miles along
the coast, and this through a country where he can get no provisions.
He dare not show himself to the natives, since there is a price on
his head, and they receive 6_s._ for taking him to the police, dead
or alive; and even if he should succeed in crossing the six miles of
ice to the continent, he is often compelled to give himself up to get
food. Thus, out of 100 who were reported to have run away the winter
before my journey, 32 were caught by the Gilyaks, and one case of
cannibalism was said to have taken place among the starving fugitives.
A terrible instance of the difficulty of procuring food in the Amur
region occurred in 1856, when a battalion of soldiers was dispatched
in September from Nikolaefsk up the river to Shilkinsk Zavod. They
were overtaken by winter, and were compelled to draw lots as to who
should be eaten. The survivors walked on the ice and arrived in safety.
Mr. Emery told me he had more than once seen hungry runaways give
themselves up to the authorities. Runaways when caught are flogged; but
this does not prevent others from making the attempt to escape. During
my stay at Nikolaefsk a rumour spread that a third of the prisoners
landed by the _Nijni Novgorod_ had escaped, having in their possession
30 revolvers; and as the small Cossack station on the island opposite
the mouth of the Amur had only 15 men, it was feared they would be in
a plight. Within a day or two the reported numbers sank to one-half,
and I have since learned that 40 was the number--some newly arrived and
others older convicts, and that 27 were caught.

With regard to the prison executive, there is a resident priest
in Sakhalin; and since my visit a schoolmistress has been sent for
the convicts’ children, who are kept in prison. I sent a supply of
Scriptures and tracts for the prisoners and soldiers at Dui and Aniva
Bay. In the _Nijni Novgorod_, too, there came out a priest and an
assistant bringing with them a number of ecclesiastical books. The
assistant and books had been sent, I believe, by the Consistorium,
from which the priest at Vladivostock, at the time of my visit,
was expecting £40 worth of ecclesiastical literature. To every 100
prisoners in Dui there are one superior and two under officers, all
of whom are miserably paid. The usual charges of peculation and using
for their own advantage the prisoners’ work are brought against them;
but with what amount of truth I cannot say. The most shameful abuse I
heard of concerning Sakhalin was that formerly the female prisoners
were allowed clandestinely to go on board the ships whilst coaling,
and were expected, on their return, to share with the warders their
licentious gains. This came from a prison official, but I cannot answer
for its truth; though when I asked a Russian doctor if it was at all
likely to be true, he thought it not improbable, and said that he had
no doubt female prisoners could, by payment to under officers, get
release for an occasional promenade. To what depths of rascality some
of the prison authorities may descend, I know not; but one officer, of
whom I thought highly, told me that he had been sometimes appointed to
inspect Siberian prisons, and in one of them, which he named, he found
the director had committed such frauds that, could he have hanged him,
he would have done so. As it was, he reported him to his chief, and
the man was removed. On the sea coast they say the heaven is high and
the Tsar is far off; and a bribe goes a long way in diverting the hand
of justice. For instance, one merchant declared that released convicts
had sometimes stolen his goods, but that he could not get them punished
because the offenders bribed the police. At Nikolaefsk they testified
that one convict, a murderer, who ought to have been fast in prison,
was allowed, for handsome payment, the run of the streets; though,
like John Bunyan in Bedford Gaol, he was obliged to be in prison when
inspectors came. This may be sufficiently shocking to English readers,
but not less so, perhaps, the following from nearer home. When visiting
one of the largest and best-managed prisons of England, and pointing to
the warders in broadcloth, I said to the gentleman conducting me, “Do
you think these men can be reached by a bribe?” To which he replied, “I
have not the smallest doubt of it; they bring in tobacco and eatables
to the cells, and we are powerless to prevent it. A prisoner, for
instance, informs his warder as to the whereabouts of his friends, and
perhaps asks him to call. On doing so the warder can inquire, ‘What
would you like me to do for your friend who is under my charge? and
what will you give me for doing it?’” A simple-minded woman, in her
innocence, came one day to the chaplain of a prison I know, complaining
that it “cost her so much to get little comforts to her incarcerated
husband”; and then came out the story of the warder’s exactions, which
at last had exhausted her means and patience!

The reader will have observed that, in speaking of Sakhalin, I have
only given the testimony of others, as I did not go to the island. I
entered one prison only after leaving Nikolaefsk--that of Vladivostock,
and I may here, therefore, sum up my personal experience of Siberian
prisons.

I have met with a deep and almost universal conviction that the prisons
of Siberia, compared with those of other countries, are intolerably
bad. This I cannot endorse. A proper comparison would be between the
Russian sent to Siberia and the English convict as formerly transported
to Botany Bay; but, comparing the convicts of the two nations as they
now are, and taking the three primary needs of life--clothing, food,
and shelter--the Russian convict proves to be fed more abundantly, if
not better, than the English convict; and the clothing of the two,
having regard to the dress of their respective countries, is very
similar. The floors of Siberian cells are not of polished oak, as in
Paris, nor are the walls of stone slabs, as in York. Siberian prisons
have not fittings of burnished brass, with everything neat and trim,
as at Petersburg; but then, neither have the houses of the Siberian
people. The average peasant, taken from his _izba_ to prison, need
experience no greater shock than does the average English criminal when
confined in jail. A convict’s labour in Siberia is certainly lighter
than in England; he has more privileges; friends may see him oftener,
and bring him food;[10] and he passes his time, not in the seclusion of
a cell, nor under imposed silence, but among his fellows, with whom he
may lounge, talk, and smoke.

I am now looking at things from a prisoner’s point of view, and
referring more especially to his animal requirements. When we look at
his intellectual, moral, and religious nature, then it must be allowed
my former comparison, as between Russian and English prisons, no
longer holds good. The English convict, if unlettered, is compelled to
attend school; the Siberian is left in ignorance. In the case of the
English prisoner, some attempt, at all events, is made at his moral
reformation. When he enters the prison, and on subsequent occasions,
it is the chaplain’s duty to see him privately; and having learned,
if possible, his moral condition, to point out the cause of his fall,
and to show him the way to rise; and these efforts are attended with
more success than is known to the general public. Once more, the
English prisoner has opportunity of daily religious worship--in some
establishments twice a day, religious instruction twice a week or
oftener, and this sometimes ends in the happy result that going to
prison proves the turning-point of a life.

But I can hardly conceive this happening to a Siberian prisoner.
Chaplains, in our sense of the word, are unknown; and even if the
criminal be softened at the thought of leaving home or friends, or
otherwise, he is turned loose among a herd of sinners more wicked
perhaps than himself, with the imminent probability that he will
speedily become as abandoned as they. If condemned to hard labour, he
is robbed of the Sunday and attendance at church; there is none to
point him to higher and better things, and hence he too often becomes
a wreck both for this world and the next. Once more, there are in
England voluntary agencies meeting the prisoner on his release with
an endeavour to minister to his temporal and spiritual good, so that,
if he desire to lead a reformed life, he is helped to do so; and
there are hundreds of former inhabitants of our prisons who to-day
are respectable members of society. But in regard to the spiritual
good of the Siberian prisoner, the Russian system is sadly deficient.
The exile, it is true, is settled in a village, in possession of land
where, if he chooses to work, he may satisfy his wants, and, as regards
material things, begin life anew; but he is known as a convict, and
too often does not care to retrieve his character. A doctor, holding a
high position in Siberia, told me that he thought the convicts, when
released, did not as a rule become reformed. They find difficulty,
he said, in persuading peasants to give them their daughters in
marriage; and if they marry released female convicts, these have
almost always been women of bad character, who bear no children. Hence
the men, having no home, often work during the week only to supply
immediate wants, and to save enough for a drink on Sunday. Such was his
testimony, from which it would appear that Siberia furnishes another
illustration of the truth that reformation, to be worthy of the name,
except on a religious basis, is impossible.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] This is to some extent indicated by its name, “_Sahalin ula hota_,”
that is, “Rocks at the mouth of the Black River,” in keeping with which
idea, on Cook’s map of 1784. Sakhalin is but a small islet near the
Gulf of the Amur. Other maps, published later, represent Sakhalin as a
peninsula. It was left to the Russian Admiral Nevilskoy, 30 years ago,
to lay down with accuracy the shores of the island and the Strait of
Mamia Rinso, by which it is separated from the continent. Sakhalin is
about 600 miles long, with an estimated area of 32,000 square miles,
and traversed length-wise by a mountain chain with craggy summits.
The coast is for the most part rocky and steep, but opposite the mouth
of the Amur it consists of sandy downs. Similar downs are found, too,
on the eastern side of the island. None of the mountains reach the
line of perpetual snow, but several lift their bare grey summits above
the limit of vegetation. The island has two large indentations--one
on the eastern coast, called the Bay of Patience, and another at the
south, called Aniva Bay; also two rivers, each about the length of the
Thames, and some smaller streams flowing through arable valleys. It has
likewise three lakes, the largest of which is 50 miles long.

[2] I am not aware that any efforts have been made for the educational
or spiritual improvement of the Aïnos of Sakhalin. Veniaminoff reduced
to writing the language of the neighbouring Kuriles, published a
grammar, and translated the Gospel of St. Matthew, which was printed at
Moscow in 1840. When at Hakodate I was informed that the missionaries
contemplated work among the Aïnos in Yesso, the northern island of
Japan, and I found this, on my return, to be desired by the late Henry
Wright, Honorary Secretary of the Church Missionary Society, but I am
not aware that any efforts have yet been put forth for the Aïnos of
Sakhalin.

[3] It has the right to employ 400 convicts, for which they pay to the
Government, says Mr. Réclus, from 9_d._ to 1_s._ 6_d._ per man per day;
but I heard that it was at a certain rate per pood of coal obtained.
The company are supposed to supply the Government ships with 5,000 tons
yearly, if required, at 18_s._ a ton; but in 1878 less than 700 tons
were so disposed of.

[4] A traveller writing in the _North China Herald_ of August 5th last,
describing what he saw of the convicts in Sakhalin, says: “They lived
in barracks which from the outside appeared to be large, airy, and
commodious. One evening we went to one of them, in which about 1,000
convicts were ranged in the courtyard. We passed round the building
and saw that, for ventilation and comfort, arrangements of the most
complete kind had been made.” But I think he speaks of Korsakovsk,
south of Dui, where there were in 1881, as I learn from official
sources, 450 male and female convicts with their families.

[5] The following list gives, for the five years preceding my visit,
the number of persons condemned to hard labour and sent from European
Russia by road to the Sea-coast government and Sakhalin, and who, on
their arrival, were distributed to Nikolaefsk, Dui coal-mines, Dui
farm, and in small numbers to Aniva Bay. It shows the number remaining
over annually from the previous year, the number of additions, of
departures by death, finished terms, or removal elsewhere, and the
number remaining:--

| From | | |
| last year.| Arrivals.| Departures. | Remaining.
1874 | 962 | 759 | 1,011 | 710
1875 | 710 | 1,919 | 1,503 | 1,126
1876 | 1,126 | 2,412 | 2,039 | 1,499
1877 | 1,499 | 1,494 | 1,429 | 1,564
1878 | 1,564 | 1,116 | 988 | 1,692

Taking a rough average, I find a proportion of 18 women convicts to
100 men. Further details respecting these convicts for 1878 will give
some idea as to their crimes. There were sent to Nikolaefsk 476 men and
62 women. Of the men, 98 were removed to Dui, and 378 remained on the
continent--300 on the Upper Amur, and 70 in the Primorsk province.

These 378 men were convicted of the following crimes:--

Murder 155
Vagrancy and assuming false names 55
Running away 52
Highway robbery 39
Theft 17
Robbery with violence 9
Arson 4
Insubordination to authorities 13
Counterfeiting money 3
Seduction 3
Incest 3
Removing railway irons 1
Crimes not mentioned 24

The crimes of the 62 women were as follows:--

Murdering husbands 28
Murdering illegitimate children 6
Murdering other persons 17
Arson 7
Theft 1
Highway Robbery 1
Counterfeiting money 1
Vagrancy 1

[6] Goryantchikoff, in “Buried Alive,” says a good deal about flogging,
but some of his writing refers to the condition of things 50 years ago,
and some of it is, to say the least, questionable; as, for instance, he
_had heard_ a story of an executioner giving 50 strokes or so more than
was decreed, because the culprit was stubborn and did not ask pity.
When I witnessed a birching at Nikolaefsk, a Cossack stood by, counting
aloud every stroke; and when the plète is administered, a medical
officer and others are obliged to be present. It is very unlikely,
therefore, that a lictor would dare to give 50 extra strokes, even if
he wished to do so. But, further, Goryantchikoff says, “400 or 500
strokes of a birch rod are almost sure to kill a man, and 1,000 strokes
will kill the strongest man; but the same number of strokes with a cane
will hardly injure a man of moderate constitution.” And yet I have
quoted the case of a soldier at Nikolaefsk birched with 1,100 strokes,
who, a fortnight afterwards, saucily declared that he would receive
them again for a bottle of brandy!

[7] A civil officer, whom I know, was told of complaints about the
food, to which he replied, “What can I do? They now get the supply of
fish by contract, and allow so small a sum that I know it cannot be
good. I can only bring the matter before my superiors, and, if they
do nothing, I am powerless. I cannot pay it out of my own pocket!”
Again, a naval officer told me that, in taking across provisions to the
island, the smell of the fish on board was almost insupportable. The
fish, he said, were bad, and the salt meat bad, though the bread was
good.

[8] Thus I met with a gentleman who was elected director of the local
committee for the prison at Nikolaefsk, to whom, for many years,
the Government allowed only 13 kopecks per day to provide food for
each prisoner. The committee petitioned for 25 kopecks a day, and it
received 17, at which rate he believed it now stands. At that time 17
kopecks represented about 6_d._ a day, now they represent only 4½_d._
But three pounds of rye bread at Nikolaefsk cost 15 kopecks, and thus
there was less than 1_d._ left for other kinds of food. The result, in
the case of my informant, was that he often put his hand in his own
pocket to the extent of £20 or £30 a year; but it is not likely that
many can be found thus to act, especially in such a place as Sakhalin,
where there is no colony, and the free inhabitants are very few. There
is no philanthropic committee there at all, so that the management
of the exiles is left solely to the administrative authorities. My
informant said that the corn sent to Dui was good, but that the meat
and fish were always bad, and that, in fact, the convicts scarcely ever
got meat at all.

[9] Alluded to in the _North China Herald_ of August 5th, 1881.

[10] The best conduct of an English convict would not entitle him to a
visit from friends oftener than once in three months, and they may not
bring him anything.

CHAPTER L.

_THE USSURI AND SUNGACHA._

From Nikolaefsk to Khabarofka.--Proposal to move the port.--Military
forces in the province.--Departure for Kamen Ruiboloff.--The
Ussuri.--Visit to a parish priest.--The native Goldi.--Missions
of the Russian Church.--Pay of missionaries.--Head waters
of Ussuri.--The Sungacha.--Cossacks.--Visit to a Cossack
stanitza.--Chinese houses.--Lake Khanka.--Arrival at Kamen
Ruiboloff.

On Saturday night, August 30th, I left Nikolaefsk for Khabarofka,
pleased with the prospect of travelling 700 miles where no English or
American author had gone before. By Sunday morning we reached Tyr, and
Mariinsk and Sophiisk were passed on Monday.[1]

As we approached Khabarofka, on Thursday evening, summer appeared to
have returned. The small steamer bound for the Ussuri did not start for
24 hours after our arrival, and so I had another day in Khabarofka,
which just then was in a state of excitement. General Tichmeneff was
there, with a commission sent to the Sea-coast government, to consider
whether or not it was desirable to move the port from Vladivostock.
In early years Ayan, and next Petropavlovsk, was the Russian port
in the Pacific; then it was removed to Nijni Kamchatka, afterwards
to Nikolaefsk, and from thence, in 1865, to Vladivostock. From a
strategic point of view the situation of Vladivostock was considered
unsatisfactory, and when it looked possible, in 1878, that England
and Russia might go to war, the apprehensions of the authorities were
aroused, and some of the foreign merchants of the port, preferring not
to run the chance of a siege, decamped to Japan. The question then
was whether the Government should spend some £300,000 or £400,000 in
the defence of Vladivostock, to make it a military as well as a naval
stronghold, or move to another harbour that could be more easily
fortified. This was the talk of the province during my stay, and steam,
telegraph, and postal services seemed busy in doing the behests of the
commission. I caught sight of the general as he and his staff embarked
on the _Onon_ for Nikolaefsk; and I have since heard that he has been
appointed military governor of the province, to live at Khabarofka,
whilst Vladivostock continues as the head-quarters of the fleet, and
Admiral Erdmann has been recalled to Russia, and is now Governor of the
Port of Reval.

I made it my business to call upon Major Evfanoff, the commandant,
as I wished to place Scriptures in the barracks, and to give other
reading material for distribution among soldiers and Cossacks. At
Nikolaefsk I had entrusted upwards of 1,200 books and tracts to Colonel
Ossipoff, which he distributed during my stay; also at Sophiisk I left
a parcel of 500 with Colonel Ussufovitch.[2] The major expressed his
willingness to carry out my wishes at Khabarofka, though he did not
see how the books could be allowed to lie safely in the barrack-rooms
for every one’s use. I was therefore obliged to ask him to carry out
my intentions in the way that was most feasible, and he subsequently
told me that the soldiers were highly pleased, and thankful for the
distribution.

Besides the books left for the barracks and hospital, I did a stroke
of business with the merchant Plusnin, selling him a bundle of 250
tracts, hoping thereby to get them distributed; and had not my stock
failed, I would gladly have sold to him, or sent to Blagovestchensk,
some copies of the Scriptures for the Molokans, who, I heard, are the
largest purchasers, as I suppose they are the greatest readers, of the
Scriptures on the Amur. Thus, having done what I could for Khabarofka,
I prepared to leave it on Friday night, September 5th.

The steamboat agents and officials were exceedingly kind to me,
apparently out of regard to what I was doing. A man said at Nikolaefsk
that the chief director had been staying with him, and had he known
that I was coming on such an errand, he should certainly have asked
for me a free passage. As it was, the clerk would not hear of taking
anything for the carriage of “the holy books,” and a first-class
cabin was given for my sole use at a second-class fare, and this was
repeated on the Ussuri.[3] The great General Tichmeneff had been the
last occupant of my cabin, and it was draped with Brussels carpet,
apparently new, the stately proportions of the room being 6 feet long
by 4 broad and 7 high, which I feared his Excellency, who was bigger
than I in more senses than one, must have found exceedingly small.

The Ussuri, after the Sungari, is the most considerable of the rivers
which join the Amur from the south. It flows from the south-west to the
north-east in the valley that separates the two parallel ridges of the
Shan-alin and the Sikhota-Alin mountains. At Khabarofka it measures
nearly two miles wide, having at its mouth three islands and two
sandbanks, with an ordinary depth of 10 feet, though after the summer
rains it rises to 19 feet. Ascending 25 miles, the width diminishes to
a mile and a half, the depth never exceeding 20 feet. The Ussuri was
chosen in 1860 for a frontier, so that we now had Russian territory on
the left, and Chinese territory on the right. The Chinese bank is for
the most part flat, but the horizon is bounded by low mountain peaks.
The Russian bank is mountainous and richly wooded, being formed of
the western slopes of the coast range, which give birth to a number
of streams, the Chirka, Bikin, Por, and others, which flow in on the
eastern bank of the Ussuri. The largest of the streams flowing in on
the western bank are the Nor, Muren, and Sungacha. At the confluence
of the Chirka the river is a mile and a quarter wide. For 30 miles
further the mountains retire, and the bottom land thus left is richly,
though not thickly, wooded with aspens, willows, oaks, and elms.
Opposite the mouth of the Por, which flows in on the Russian bank, were
a few Chinese houses called Sunchui. We had passed a similar group on
the first day’s travel, and subsequently came to three others, one
of which, opposite Graphskaya, was called Vikul Uima. The right bank
was almost uninhabited. Within 70 miles from Khabarofka we passed,
on the Russian bank, six stations, and among them Kazakevich (where
was a military post, at which I gave some books to Colonel Glen);
Dyachenkova, a village of seven houses; and Trëkh-svyateeteley, or the
“station of three saints.” Another euphonious name was given further on
to a collection of houses called Vidnaya, or “the beautiful,” where the
Ussuri divides into three channels.

On Sunday morning we arrived at Kozloffskaya, or the Goat station,
having a telegraph office and a church. Service was over, and I called
on the priest, John Voskresenskie (which means resurrection), a man
who, if not--

“To all the country dear,
Was passing rich on _sixty_ pounds a year!”

His parish extended along the river’s bank, 30 miles to the north and
50 to the south, and he ministered to 10 villages. To the most distant
he goes eight times a year, to the others once a month.[4]

Most of the houses at Kozloffskaya had gardens, in some of which maize
was growing. There was also a private chapel, erected by one of the
tradesmen. At the next station, Vasilyeva, the Bekin flows in on the
Russian bank, and the mountains here reach their highest.

On Sunday evening we passed a deserted village of 10 log houses,
called Pashkova, from which the inhabitants had migrated in a body
further south. On the Chinese bank the hills, well wooded to the top,
approached the river. In the course of Sunday night we were delayed
nine hours by fog, and during the next day stopped for a chat with a
steam launch, used, if I mistake not, for the telegraph service. This
was the only craft, excepting the canoes of the natives, that we met.
Seven stations more were passed, and on Monday evening we arrived at
Krasnoiarskaia, having completed half our voyage.

The principal natives of the Ussuri are the Goldi. In addition to what
I read and saw of these people, I acquired a great deal of information
from Alexander Protodiakonoff, the priest of Khabarofka, who has been
a missionary hereabouts for 23 years. At Malmuish a missionary, who
had 3,000 Goldi in his district, came on board the _Onon_, from whom I
gathered that he had been a priest only a year, during which time he
had baptized 50 persons. This man called one of the Goldi passengers to
explain to me the use of my Gilyak idols.

The Goldi are of the Tunguse family, and belong to the Mongolian race.
Their number was estimated by Collins at 2,560, but a missionary gave
it me as about 6,000. Their habitat extends along the Amur to the
country of the Gilyaks on the north, and on the south to the Upper
Ussuri, whilst laterally it extends from the mouth of the Sungari to
the sea coast. The mortality among them, as among the Gilyaks, is
great, but they are, nevertheless, thought to be on the increase. Their
physiognomy is distinctly Mongolian. They imitate some of the customs
of the neighbouring Manchu, amongst others that of shaving off the
hair, with the exception of a tail, which they wear on the top of the
head. They do not, as a rule, cultivate the ground, even for garden
produce; and such vegetable food as they use, millet or rice, they
get in exchange for furs. We did, however, pass two or three Goldi
huts where millet was under cultivation, and where the natives looked
unusually dirty. Their houses and clothing I have already spoken of as
resembling those of the Gilyaks.

Their communications with the outside world are extremely limited. The
only foreigners they know are Russians and Chinese. When, therefore,
the natives asked who I was, it was exceedingly difficult to make
them understand, as they had never seen an Englishman before.[5] The
Goldi, long used to dealing with the Manchu, still use their money,
weights, and measures, also their musical instruments. I was told they
do not sing. Each village has its chief or elder, as formerly, under
Manchu rule, but they are gradually becoming Russianized. Twenty years
ago they used to have drunken fights, village with village, but this
practice is now abandoned, and their treatment of the dead is growing
more decent; not that they used, like their Mongolian congeners, the
interior of their dogs for burying-places, the corpse being cut up
and eaten, but they had in each village a house for the dead, which,
in summer, stank so horribly as fairly to drive the people away. In
these buildings the clothes and arms were placed with the corpse, and
children and friends entered from time to time to mourn. A missionary
told me he had seen one of these houses within the past 10 years, but
that now the Goldi bury their dead, as do the Russians.

[Illustration: GOLDI IN WINTER DRESS.]

I spent part of my last evening at Khabarofka at the house of Peter
Alexander, protodiakonoff, or arch deacon, of that town and two
neighbouring villages, with a population of 260. He told me that the
missionary district he superintended, in addition to his parish,
extended from Orlofsk to Ekaterin-Nicolsk on the Amur, and from Busse
on the Ussuri to Khabarofka, a river line of about 700 miles. At
the time of my visit the priest and his brother were engaged on a
translation of the Gospels, and as he did not appear to know how to
get it printed, I recommended him to apply to the British and Foreign
Bible Society, whose obliging and energetic agent in Petersburg,
Mr. Nicolson, had desired me to be on the look-out for new Siberian
translations. The Russian liturgy had been already translated into
Goldi. The priest gave me a photograph of a group of Goldi Christians,
wearing ear and nose rings, and embroidered garments of fish-skin. I
set great store by the picture, for it is a rarity. The natives have
not yet become vain of their faces, and do not like to be photographed.
This group had been taken for the priest who baptized them. In the
background is the village starosta, and in front the patriarch of the
group, whilst a large number of the other figures are women. I know
not whether many of them were the patriarch’s wives, of whom, before
baptism, he intended to have a sale. If so, he must have been rich,
for one of the Goldi, of whom I inquired the price of wives, said that
if paid in money they cost from £50 to £70; and if in goods, then from
four to seven pieces of “stuff,” but he did not say whether it was to
be silk, linen, or blue nankeen.

Peter Alexander, the archdeacon, in 23 years up to October 1878, had
baptized 2,000 natives; 403 were Orochons (he computed them at 3,000 in
his district), and 1,501 were Goldi.[6]

I had heard it stated that the Russian missionaries _pay_ the heathen
to be baptized. One of the missionaries told me that he believed there
were priests who gave rewards to their converts, though he had not done
so, and he thought it possible that a few natives presented themselves
more than once to different priests for baptism, hoping to gain
thereby. Another allegation, that of a nobleman, was that the converts
were “bribed.” But this kind of statement is so frequently made by
those who look coldly on mission work that I did not regard it as
proven. My informant said that he had seen at Irkutsk that they gave to
the Buriats shirts, crosses, and a few roubles; and that often the same
Buriats came again for baptism the following year. Also an Ispravnik,
interested in the Buriat missions, told me they sometimes gave converts
five roubles or so when poor and privately persecuted. Accordingly, I
inquired concerning this of the archdeacon, and he explained by telling
me that the last 400 he had baptized had received nothing, but that
previously each candidate had been supplied, at the expense of the
Missionary Society at Blagovestchensk, with a new shirt, a cross to
hang on the neck, and an ikon. The reason for this would be evident
to any one who knows Siberia. There would be no towns near, where the
Gilyaks, for instance, could buy crosses or ikons, and without the
possession of these I suppose it is doubtful whether a Russian could be
persuaded that he was a Christian at all. Again, the new shirt might
represent the chrisom, or baptismal robe; and even if not, the people’s
ordinary garments (of fish-skin and dog-skin) are so filthy that it
would be only becoming that for once in their lives, at their baptism,
they should look decently clean. The Protodiakonoff told me that on his
journeys he used to take two or three hundred shirts and crosses, stay
in a village for two or three days, and then sometimes baptize as many
as 40 at once, especially when he could bring over a rich man, for then
the poorer ones followed.

I came, therefore, to the conclusion that the charge of bribery on
the part of the missionaries was not well founded; but, on the other
hand, it was equally plain, upon their own showing, that the Russian
missionaries differ widely from the English as to what constitutes
proper qualification for baptism.[7] I asked the priest at Khabarofka
concerning the pay of missionaries, to which he replied that he to
whom I had spoken from Malmuish received £25 per annum, and he himself
received £30 as a missionary, and 241 roubles 62 kopecks, or about
£24, from another source--say £55 in all. Others had represented to
me that he received £250 a year; so perhaps this was exclusive of his
offerings, which I heard might vary from 6_d._ to £1 for baptisms,
and from 6_s._ to £5 for a wedding. Also it is usual to call in the
priest after a death to say a “panychid,” or office, the name of which
suggests a prayer all night long, but which lasts an hour, and for
which it is usual to give from 6_d._ up to £1. Offertories, too, are
collected each Sunday for the priest, orphans, church, etc., according
to the object, for which each of several plates is carried. I gathered
that the support given by the natives to their pastors and the church
consists of the purchase of candles to the extent of a few pence and
an occasional sable-skin. The house and library of the Protodiakonoff
did not look as if its owner had an income of £250 a year; but his home
was neat and clean, though simply furnished, and his wife and daughters
were becomingly dressed. I was glad to hear an excellent report of
this missionary, who was said to be a good man and learned. It was his
custom actually to preach or read a sermon every Sunday, and he had a
crowded church in consequence. I suppose he did not profess that his
sermons were all original; for when, on board the _Onon_, he caught
sight of a tract I had given to the steward’s boy, he immediately
seized it, and wrote thereon “for a sermon.”

I thought this missionary the most hard-working priest I met in
Siberia, and I was very glad to have obtained from him what I
consider such trustworthy information concerning the Goldi. The
last representatives of this race I saw at the little village of
Krasnoiarskaia, 260 miles from Khabarofka, where a man and woman were
standing on the banks. The man had a Manchu matchlock with no butt, but
having a handle something like that of a pistol. It had a flint and
hammer, pulled by a very clumsy trigger. Of the woman I bought her ear-
or nose-ring.

On the fourth day, Tuesday, we arrived early in the morning at Busse,
where was another telegraph station. Up to this point we had passed
on the river 10 tributaries on the right bank, and 17 on the left.
About an hour before noon, we changed our course from the Ussuri to the
Sungacha; but, before leaving the Ussuri, I would observe that its head
waters are formed by the confluence of the Daibecha and the Ulache,
together with several smaller streams. One of them, the Sandugu, rises
only about 50 miles from the coast at Olga Bay, and on the banks of
the Daibecha gold has been found. I learn, too, from the _North China
Herald_, that a few miles from Vladivostock (in what direction is not
stated) coal-mines on a large scale are being opened up by Mr. S.
Morris, whom I met, if I mistake not, and that they promise to yield
well. The Ussuri is navigable several miles higher than Busse, and
could a railway be constructed (to which the country offers, I am told,
no special obstacle) from Vladivostock to the most southern navigable
point of the Ussuri, a means of communication would be made for the
carriage of merchandise and passengers, which would be of the utmost
importance to the Ussuri valley, the only military and commercial route
leading from the Amur to the southern parts of Russian Manchuria.[8]

On the morning of Tuesday, the 9th of September, we entered the
Sungacha. It enters at right angles on the western bank of the Ussuri.
The Sungacha, flowing out of Lake Khanka, is the largest of the
Ussuri tributaries, and the most tortuous river on which I have been.
A straight line from its source to its mouth measures but 60 miles,
whereas along its channel it measures nearly 180 miles, and I do not
think we traversed a single half mile without a bend. Great skill,
therefore, was required in steering both steamer and barge. So sharp
were some of the curves that, when the former had turned the bend,
the two crafts appeared to be proceeding in opposite directions. The
steamer at such times slackened speed, but even then, on the first day,
the barge twice ran into the muddy bank, and temporarily stuck fast.
The Sungacha is from 20 to 60 feet deep, from 100 to 110 feet wide,
with a current of two knots. In some parts it is barely 100 feet wide,
and in two places only from 8 to 12 feet deep.

Black and turbid as was the water of the Ussuri, it was limpid compared
with that of the Sungacha, which was unusable for cooking. A supply
of Ussuri water was therefore taken on board, and this implies a good
deal, since the Siberians are not too nice in this respect, and are
accustomed to the use of river and surface water only. I saw turtles in
the Sungacha, and learned that this river, as well as Lake Khanka and
the Ussuri, abounds with all kinds of fish, especially carp, sterlet,
and salmon.[9]

There joined us at Busse a telegraph officer named Adamson, who spoke
German, and with whom I was able to employ my smattering of that tongue
to good effect. Hitherto I had not exchanged many ideas with my four
fellow first-class passengers, one of whom was a veterinary surgeon,
and two others Russian and Polish officers. The horse-doctor and the
Pole seemed to have no mental resources whatever; and regarding them
as types of Siberian “society,” it was not difficult to understand
the dismal complaint of a physician I met, that he had no congenial
companions, there being nothing cared for in the town above the level
of wine or cards. These two passengers played incessantly, and,
excepting at meals and during sleep, I doubt if cards were out of their
hands for a couple of hours during the passage. One night the Pole,
even after he had gone to bed, got up to play another game. The captain
was very obliging, and gave me a chart he had made of the Ussuri,
which is valuable, there being only two original writers, as far as I
know, on any considerable portion of this river--namely, Venyukoff and
Prejevalsky.[10]

On the day we entered the Sungacha, we came to one station
only--Markova, which was the last collection of houses that could be
dignified with the name of a village. All the stations beyond were
Cossack pickets, and consisted of one or perhaps two houses, at which
horses are kept for the postal service in winter. There were six of
these pickets beyond Markova, making a total of 36 stations between
Khabarofka and Kamen Ruiboloff. Among them are four villages only with
a church--namely, Kazakevich, Ilyinska, Kozloffski, and Venyukova, with
a resident priest to each of the first three. Among the stations were
likewise 21 Cossack stanitzas or settlements, containing from one to a
hundred houses each. Also, between Kamen Ruiboloff and Vladivostock are
ten stanitzas and three churches. Markova was a Cossack stanitza, and
as we stayed there for an hour or two, I enlisted the services of Mr.
Adamson, and peeped at Cossack life.

Cossacks of old were warlike people, who lived a free-and-easy life
on the border, frequently ravaging their neighbours’ herds, whom the
Russians reduced to subjection, but left them many privileges. When
the Amur came into the hands of the Tsar, it became necessary that the
Russian frontier should be guarded, and, if possible, settled. General
Muravieff therefore took many of the children of convicts, called them
Cossacks, and placed them, together with voluntary emigrants from the
Trans-Baikal province, in stations, about 10 miles apart, along the
Amur and the Ussuri. Land was allotted to them, and they were supplied
with cows, horses, farming-stock, and provisions for a year, after
which time they were expected to take care of themselves.[11] The
mounted Cossacks are employed to keep the boundaries, and many of the
foot Cossacks act as police. When not engaged in service they are free
to farm, rear cattle, hunt, or, in fact, turn their hands to what they
please, though they are liable to be called up in time of war, almost
to the depopulation of a whole neighbourhood.[12] This accounted for
the deserted village of Pashkova, and I learned that the service is not
unpopular; for when the Government wanted 800 men wherewith to found a
colony on the shores of Lake Khanka, there was no lack of volunteers--a
circumstance sufficiently explained by the fact that in such cases they
get new farming stock and provisions.[13]

On the Ussuri the Cossacks are expected to keep off the Chinese
smugglers, and even traders, who are not allowed to settle on the
Russian bank except under proper restrictions. Cossack habitations,
therefore, represent the utmost bounds of Russian life.

Markova consisted of rather more than a dozen houses, of which only
seven were inhabited. I entered some of them, and was struck with their
cleanly and orderly arrangement, as compared with the houses of the
Russian peasantry. In the first the floor was strewn with hay, the
walls were whitewashed, and on one of them was displayed a quantity
of table ware, consisting of seven forks, four spoons, and a ladle.
On a plate-shelf stood a teapot, slop-basin, two dishes, and four
plates, a mug, cup, and two glasses. Near the door hung two bundles
of squirrel-skins, and a sheepskin coat, whilst in the corner was a
well-known feature in every Cossack’s house,--a handmill for grinding
corn, worked by the Cossack’s wife. A larger mill in the village was
turned by horse-power, but with the slender result of grinding only
3 cwt. of meal a day. I saw, too, rope made of lime-tree bark, good
for use in the water, and large fish-hooks on which the fish of the
Sungacha hook themselves whilst playing with the float. In another
house was a Cossack’s hunting gun, with a two-legged rest and a flint
lock, which is said still to be preferred to more modern kinds. In a
third house I bought some hazel-nuts. I had been unable to procure any
fruit since leaving Khabarofka, nor could I succeed at Krasnoiarskaya
in getting cucumbers.

After leaving Markova the banks of the Sungacha continued flat, and
were all but uninhabited. Our ceaseless windings on the river continued
till Wednesday evening, when we arrived at Lon Mayo, on the edge of
Lake Khanka, where, on the Chinese bank, were two small houses. They
were inhabited, apparently, by men only, and those very dirty. Within
the house I entered there was an inner compartment, where, among other
objects, I observed a heavy stone for grinding corn, a well-made wicker
shovel, and a huge brandy bottle, or cask, made of a sort of coarse
_papier-maché_. The building was thatched, and at a distance of two
or three yards stood the chimney, constructed of the hollowed trunk
of a tree, and plastered with mud at the bottom. In the yard was a
cart, with clumsy Chinese wheels, and troughs for cattle, hollowed,
like canoes, from the trunks of trees. Bricks, made of mud and rushes,
were drying in the sun, and men were busy pulling hemp into threads.
In the garden was a small heathen temple, the size of a sentry-box,
into which they did not object to my looking. Two poles stood in front,
and inside, a table, with a picture over it, a pan and vase, with
joss-sticks and some fish-hooks. Not far distant I noticed a field of
“buddha” or millet growing, and attempted to approach it by crossing a
boggy plot, but was compelled by mosquitoes to beat a speedy retreat.
The Ussuri and Sungacha are famous for these insects, as was suggested
by the mosquito blinds of the steamer; but a slight breeze and the
comparative lateness of the season delivered us.

The Khanka Lake might be called a “Mediterranean,” for such is the
meaning of the Chinese word “Khan-Kaï,” which the Russians have changed
into Khanka, spelt also Khinka, Hinka, and Kenka.[14] Its superficial
extent is more than 1,200 square miles, but, notwithstanding its size
and high-sounding name, it is little more than a huge inundation, for
its depth is in no part more than seven feet. In early summer one
can sometimes walk into the lake, half a mile from the bank, without
finding more than 10 inches of water. Hence I had been warned that the
steamer might possibly not be able to cross, in which case it would
be necessary to proceed 40 miles through Chinese territory, round the
north of the lake, by a road on which there is but one post-station,
and so to re-enter Russian territory at a point on the north-west
shore; for the frontier does not skirt the lake, but crosses it from
Lon Mayo, at an angle of 45 degrees. My host at Nikolaefsk on one
occasion was obliged to accomplish this journey on the back of a cow.
This, however, I was spared, for the thunderstorms of June and July,
with the south-east winds, had brought their usual supply of rain, and
caused the lake to enlarge, so that it assumed the proportions of an
inland sea. At ordinary times the Khanka is divided into two parts,
the “great lake” and the “little lake,” which latter is also called
“the Dobuka.” From the captain’s chart I calculated it to be 20 miles
long by three wide. The two lakes are separated by a sandy strand,
of regular proportions, bending towards the north in such a manner
as to continue with exactness the curves of the banks from the east
and west. This strand, developing its arc with geometrical precision,
is only like many others found on the shores of the ocean; but few
similar cases occur on the banks of a lake of such comparatively small
extent. Such strands, for the most part, are formed when the locality
is sheltered from the winds, which do not come regularly from the same
quarter.[15]

I suppose that the water is sometimes rough, for the good-natured
captain kindly inquired whether I should be afraid if the boat rocked
about. I had not at that time traversed two oceans, but was able to
assure him, nevertheless, that I hoped for the best. The windows were
as solemnly closed and battened as if we were about to cross the
Atlantic; and towards night we steamed into the lake, to find it as
calm as a mill-pond. After steering south-east for about 50 miles we
arrived, at dawn, at Kamen Ruiboloff, or the Fisherman’s Stone, thus
finishing a voyage from Khabarofka of 466 miles, or 510 if we had gone
to the stations on the shores of the lake.

We had made a quicker passage than was expected; perhaps partly to
be accounted for by an “attraction” which no doubt influenced the
captain. He spoke a little French, and communicated to me that on the
day after our arrival he was to be married to the niece of the merchant
Plusnin, of Khabarofka. They have certain domestic and semi-religious
preliminaries to a Russian wedding, as I have stated, which I was
anxious to see, for we have nothing corresponding to them in England;
but unfortunately I missed the opportunity at Kamen Ruiboloff, for
although I rose soon after daylight, the captain had fled, and I
hastened to proceed, remembering well that the foremost traveller at
the post-house gets the untired horses.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] At all of these places I distributed tracts or sold my books,
some of the latter at a shilling each; but the people purchased them
so readily that I had not a sufficient supply. In this work I had a
willing helper in Captain Stjerncreutz, who in his university days
had learned a little English from a lady at Helsingfors. At our
stopping-places he usually became the medium through whom I gave a
bundle of books to the local priest, to be distributed to the Russians.
Some of these priests worked also as missionaries to the Gilyaks. I met
one at Tyr, and another, Peter Logimof, at Mikhailofsk. The last told
me he had baptized 200 aborigines in seven years.

[2] I learned that in the Primorsk were 6 battalions of infantry,
namely, at Nikolaefsk, Sophiisk, Khabarofka, Sakhalin, Kamen-Ruiboloff,
and Vladivostock; and 8 batteries of horse-artillery, namely, at
Nikolaefsk, Khabarofka, Sakhalin, Nicolsk, and Paseat. From the
“Russian Officers’ Handbook,” published at Petersburg by the Ministry
of War, it appeared that the number of soldiers in East Siberia,
in 1878, was 17,610, with 130 guns; namely, 10,640 infantry, 1,300
artillery, 270 sappers and miners, and 5,400 irregular cavalry. More
particularly they read as follows:--

Infantry.--Blagovestchensk, 400; Irkutsk, 900; Chita, 300; Stretinsk,
240; Yakutsk, 700; Kara, 470; Kiakhta, 470; Nertchinsk, 470; Sakhalin,
1,100; Olga Bay, 180; Paseat, 340; Vladivostock, 1,000; Kamen
Ruiboloff, 1,000; Sophiisk, 1,000; Khabarofka, 800; Nikolaefsk, 800; De
Castries Bay, 400; Barracouta Bay, 70.

Heavy artillery.--Chita, 250; Khabarofka, 250; Nikolaefsk, 800.

Field artillery.--16 batteries, of which 8 were in the Primorsk, of 8
guns, having 12 horses to each gun, and 2 mountain batteries.

Sappers and miners.--30 torpedo men and 240 engineers.

Irregular cavalry.--9 Cossack regiments of 600 each.

In war time the Cossacks of the Amur and Ussuri send 6 mounted
regiments, of 560 each; 9 foot regiments, of 920 each; and 2 batteries
of horse artillery. Of these, 500 are in constant service.

On the frontier service were 2 regiments, each of 400 mounted Cossacks;
and 15 companies, of 133 each, of foot.

For the service of the Étape prisons of Eastern Siberia were employed,
from the Yakutsk regiment, 400, and the Kamchatka regiment, 200. It
is from these last two, I suppose, are supplied the Cossack posts I
heard of from Behring’s Strait round the Sea of Okhotsk, serving as
police, and distributed thus: Anadir, 13; Petropavlovsk, 59; Tigil, 17;
Ghijiga, 42; Yamsk, 7; Okhotsk, 32; Ayan, 12; Udskoi, 10.

The following is the constitution of an infantry _regiment_, which is
divided into 3 or sometimes 4 battalions, of 1,000 men each, in war
time or on the frontier. Superior officers: 1 commander, 1 adjutant,
1 treasurer, and 1 commissariat. To each battalion 1 commandant, 1
adjutant, 1 treasurer. Each battalion has 4 companies, No. 1 being
called “skirmishers,” and consisting of a fixed number of 240 men,
1 captain, 2 lieutenants, 2 sub-lieutenants and non-commissioned
officers, 1 field assistant, and 1 under officer to every 5 men.
Companies 2, 3, and 4 have not a fixed number of men, and there is an
under officer to every 10 men only.

In the book quoted above appeared the military officers’ pay; but they
get several additional allowances, everything being provided for them
except food. The pay of officers is:--

Generals from £152 to £254 per annum.
Colonels ” 58 ” 103 ” ”
Captains ” 54 ” 66 ” ”
Staff Captains ” 50 ” 68 ” ”
Lieutenants ” 40 ” 60 ” ”
Sub-Lieutenants ” 37 ” 54 ” ”
Cornets ” 34 ” 51 ” ”

[3] The _Onon_, from Nikolaefsk, was smaller than the _Zeya_, in which
I travelled from Kara, but cleaner and better managed. She was about
20 years old, had Belgian engines of 30 horse-power, and carried 5
machinists and 8 sailors. My fare and steward’s bill to Khabarofka cost
3 guineas. The _Sungacha_, about to ascend the Ussuri to Lake Khanka,
was a still smaller boat, 90 feet long, and drawing 3 feet of water.
Her engines were of 40 horse-power, and 15 years old. Towing a barge
with third-class passengers and cattle, she could make 5 or 6 miles an
hour against the stream, and 8 with it; but without the barge she could
go 10 miles against the stream, and 16 with it. I hoped accordingly to
accomplish the 500 miles to Kamen Ruiboloff in 5 days, for which I paid
as fare 35_s._

[4] Help came to me once more from the telegraph station--this time
in the person of the wife of the manager, and through her I gave the
priest some tracts, but he declined to purchase New Testaments, even
at a reduced price; at which I was not surprised when he subsequently
told me that he occasionally preached to the people for five minutes
on Sunday, but that they complained of the sermons as “too long.” What
he would not buy, however, the third-class passengers on the barge
speedily did, and I then gave some copies to the captain for the use of
the passengers of the _Sungacha_, as I had done to Captain Stjerncreutz
for the _Onon_.

[5] Perhaps it was as well that I had no malformation or physical
peculiarity about me, for Prejevalsky relates his meeting a Mongolian
who had seen but one Englishman in his life, who lived at Kiakhta, and
who had, unfortunately, lost one of his legs, whereupon the man of the
desert had come to the conclusion that all the English had wooden legs!

[6] Since the previous October he had baptized an additional 50 Goldi,
and he thought that what Gilyaks there were in his district were all
baptized. Formerly, he said, natives when willing were baptized, though
they understood nothing of what was being done, but in his own case he
required them to know certain prayers. After baptism they were expected
to attend church when there was one near, and to come to communion
once a year. I learned that some of the native Christians, as might
be expected, relapse into heathenism, especially in time of sickness,
when, having perhaps no doctor near, they send for the shaman. It did
not appear, however, that the profession of Christianity exposed them
to persecution.

[7] Their work seemed very nearly a repetition of the wholesale
baptism at Kieff by command of Vladimir, or of the baptisms by Roman
missionaries of whole villages at a time. The first missionary whom
I questioned thought it enough if, before baptism, the candidates
could say the short prayers of the Russian Church; the second appeared
content with less than this. Further south, however, I met a parish
priest who was not a missionary proper, but who in ten years had
baptized ten persons; and in his case he said he had usually kept his
candidates under instruction for a year or more.

[8] The entire length of the Ussuri, between 43½° and 48½° N. Lat., is
497 miles. The upper part of the river has a rapid current, and it is
swift below the confluence of the Sungacha to the Muren; but for its
remaining 300 miles it has a current of two miles an hour only, which
is slow compared with the three miles of the Amur, and the four miles
of the Shilka. The stream, frequently divided by islands, presents no
peculiar difficulties to navigation. Its scenery has a quiet English
park-like beauty that never wearies, though it cannot boast the
grandeur of the Amur, which combines the beauties of the Rhine and the
Danube, and is, taken all in all, the finest river I have travelled.

[9] It is said that during the floods, when the Ussuri becomes a series
of lakes connected by shallows, the traveller can with his hands, in
spawning time, lift off salmon by the dozen from the banks, and in
certain confined places may even hear the rippling of the water caused
by their fins. The turtles in the Sungacha are eaten by the natives,
but not by the Russians. They lay their eggs on the margins of the
stream, and one of our crew amused himself by shooting the animals as
they basked in the sun.

[10] I learned that the three steamers by which I had travelled on the
Amur and Ussuri belonged to the same Company, the managing director of
which receives £1,200 a year. The captain of the _Sungacha_ received
£21 per month, the second captain £10, the steersman £4, the other
sailors £3, and the machinists from £4 to £5 per month each; but during
a large part of the year, when the river is frozen, they have little or
nothing to do.

[11] It not infrequently happened, however, that they came at the end
of the year begging for further assistance, which was given, and the
result has been in many cases to make them idle. Captain De Vries told
me that he had seen grass and weeds growing six inches high in their
corn, which, owing to bad cultivation, stood only six inches higher.
Cossacks enjoy to a certain degree the privilege of self-government.
They elect, for instance, their own officers, who, after a service of
35 years, receive rank as if in the regular army. On the other hand,
they have to supply a certain number of fighting men, of whom 10 per
cent. must be engaged in active service continually each for two years,
and all are drilled for one month in every year.

[12] When settled in a locality they cannot leave it at will, though,
if they can raise themselves to the position of merchants, they acquire
greater liberty. Sometimes a whole village is moved to a new colony,
and the inhabitants find themselves in a strange district, but with
their old comrades and neighbours.

[13] A Cossack’s pay ranges from 10_s._ 6_d._ to 13_s._ a year, which
is less than that of infantry soldiers, whose monthly pay I learned
at Vladivostock was for recruits, 1_s._ 6_d._; soldiers, 4_s._; under
officers, 10_s._ 9_d._; and field assistants, 30_s._; whilst cooks,
tailors, bootmakers, and barbers each receive about 1_d._ a month from
every soldier in the company. Every soldier also subscribes 6_d._ a
year for religious purposes. Whether Cossacks, when called up, have the
same food as soldiers of the line I know not, but the latter in time
of peace have as follows:--Per day 3 lbs (Russian) of rye bread, ¾ lb.
meat, vegetables 1½ lb. in summer and 1 lb. in winter; also, per month,
37 lbs. oatmeal, 4 lbs. peas, 2 lbs. butter, ⅓ lb. sugar, ⅙ lb. each of
brick tea and salt, and ½ pint of vinegar. These, too, are the rations
of Russian sailors on shore. The clothing for soldiers I learned was
as follows:--Yearly, 2 caps, 2 pairs of cloth trousers, and 2 of
linen, 2 linen shirts for gymnastics, and 3 for ordinary use, 3 pairs
linen drawers, 2 pairs high boots, 1 pair shoes, and 2 pairs of cloth
gloves. Every other year, a thick cloth coat, long overcoat, hood, and
skull-cap. A belt is expected to last 3 and a set of buttons 5 years.
What proportion of this clothing is supplied to Cossacks I do not know.
It may very well be that they receive less, seeing that they give to
the Government less time and less labour than the ordinary soldiers.

[14] It measures, according to Réclus, 62 miles long, 46 in the widest
and 31 in the narrowest part; but the Russian captain gave me its
measurement as 67 miles long by 21 miles at the narrowest and 26 at the
widest parts.

[15] The Khanka is completely exposed to the winds on the south, which
blow during a great part of the year, rushing in through an open gap
in the Sikhota-Alin chain. Thus there is found on the surface of its
water a regular swell, which is carried from the south to the north,
and which delineates with nicety the circular outline of the shore.
This is the theory of M. Réclus, and he usually writes very carefully
and correctly; but I ought perhaps to add that in the chart given me
by the captain this regularity of outline of the north shore is not so
observable as in the map of M. Réclus.

For five months of the year ice covers the lake to the thickness of a
yard. The north-east and north-west shores are level and wooded. The
south-west shore is also wooded, but not so the shores in the south and
south-east. Swampy tracts exist at the mouths of the eight rivulets
which enter the lake; the Toor-balenkhe flowing in from the north-west,
and the largest, the Lifu, from the south. About ten villages and
post-stations are dispersed along the shores, and roads lead away to
the Manchu towns Ninguta, Hun-chun, and Furden.

CHAPTER LI.

_LAKE KHANKA TO THE COAST._

Difficulties in prospect.--Appearance of the
country.--Vegetation.--Garden produce.--Medicinal
plants.--Ginseng.--Country almost uninhabited.--A serious
loss.--Remarkable landscape.--Distribution of animals in
Siberia.--Little-Russian settlers.--Peasant affairs and
taxes.--Travelling by night.--Arrival at Rasdolnoi.--Clerical
functions in request.--War in the post-house.--Summary of tract
distribution.--Russia as a field for Christian effort.--The
Suifun.--Cheap travelling.--Baptizing children.--Arrival at
Vladivostock.

From Kamen Ruiboloff I had before me a drive of nearly 100 miles to
Rasdolnoi, on the river Suifun, and this comparatively short journey I
feared might present greater difficulties than any I had encountered
since leaving my interpreter. In towns, or on the steamer, some
one could be found with whom to exchange ideas in one of the three
principal languages of Europe; but now I was to go alone through a
district where even Russians are comparatively strangers, and where,
if my half-dozen words of Sclavonic failed, I expected to be quite
at a loss in communicating with the Manchu. Besides this I had heard
uncomfortable accounts of the Manzas, Coreans, and other congeners
of the Chinese, many of whose culprits had been expatriated to these
regions as to a Botany Bay, and were giving the authorities trouble,
not from political causes, but by forming themselves into banditti and
plundering Russians and Chinese alike. At Khabarofka Major Evfanoff
informed me that quite recently a number of these robbers had committed
depredations on the Russians, and that Cossacks were gone in search of
them. I also heard further on that they had entered an officer’s house,
murdered his wife, hung her up by the heels, and carried away her
child. Again, tigers were said to infest the district.[1]

I was so delighted, however, with the thought of reaching the coast,
and with the hope of getting from thence to Japan, that I hastened to
depart notwithstanding. A letter of introduction had been given me from
Nikolaefsk to Colonel Vinikoff, stationed at Kamen Ruiboloff, and the
prospect held out that he would perhaps show me the wonderful manœuvres
of his cavalry Cossacks; but, hearing that he was away, I contented
myself with sending to him by the captain of the steamer a letter, and
a box of books for his men, and by 8 o’clock I was ready to start. The
weather was charming, like that of a sunny English September--a morning
without clouds.

The district through which I was to travel, south of Lake Khanka, is
about 100 miles from north to south, and the Chinese frontier is a few
miles west of the post-road. Extensive plains constitute a prominent
feature of the country, which is sufficiently hilly, however, to
render the landscape pleasing. The soil, loamy and black, is covered
with rich vegetation. These Manchurian plains are like enormous
limitless meadows and heaths, from which the herbage has never been
cut, and where pasture is ready for cattle by thousands. The country
was fairly but not thickly wooded until I crossed the hills, south
of which flows the Suifun. Water in some places was scarce, and I
had to wait at one station at least an hour whilst a man fetched a
supply. The climate resembles that of the Ussuri. On the 5th and 6th
of September, at Khabarofka, I found it decidedly hot. The mean annual
temperature is 48°, which allows of the cultivation of the cereals of
Northern Europe, and of some of the hardier fruit-trees. Wild grapes
I saw in abundance, but none cultivated. On the coast the Governor
had recently planted some fruit-trees, and Madame one day, during my
visit, brought to table her fruit harvest, which consisted of less
than a dozen apples. Vegetables, however, thrive well. My host told me
that near Vladivostock, on his island, he had raised potatoes twice
from the same ground, between the middle of April and October.[2] He
had grown cart-loads of tomatoes, but, being unable to sell them to
his satisfaction, salted them for his cows. Carrots and parsnips grow
wild, and in the market at Vladivostock I observed, in addition to
what have been mentioned, pumpkins, celery, turnips, beetroot, the egg
plant, and Chinese onions and radishes. The missionary Huc mentions
three treasures of Manchuria. One is the sable, another a grass called
_oula_, the peculiar property of which is that, when put into the
boots, it communicates to the feet a soothing warmth even in the depth
of winter.[3] The third treasure is “Ginseng.” The Chinese call it
_Orhota_, that is, “the first of all plants.” They consider it the most
costly produce of the earth, diamonds excepted, and ascribe to it the
most wonderful healing properties. It is said to be a specific in all
kinds of bodily ailments, to cure consumption when half the lungs are
gone, and to restore to dotards the fire of youth. Huc says the Chinese
physicians think it too heating for the European temperament, already
in their opinion too hot.[4]

Other medicinal plants of the district are the yellow rhododendron
and marsh wild-rosemary, of which the natives use an infusion against
stomach-ache; also the root of the _tokose_ herb is used for diarrhœa,
produced by feeding on fish. The burnt heads of burdock are laid
on ulcers as in Peking, wounds are covered with agaric, the root of
“Solomon’s seal” is applied for pains in the throat, and that of the
hand-shaped bulb of an orchid for ulcers. The Goldi, however, as I have
said, often attempt another method of cure, by making a wooden model
of the part afflicted, which they carry about; but authorities do not
record the comparative values of the two modes of treatment. It is said
that the enlightened portion of the native community despise vegetable
medicine, and more frequently resort to the services of the shaman and
his brandy-drinking performances, which no doubt are popular with all
parties concerned.

[Illustration: CHINESE MERCHANTS IN THE PRIMORSK IN WINTER COSTUME.]

On leaving Kamen Ruiboloff the country was almost uninhabited. On the
first stage I met one vehicle and three men, but passed not a single
house. On the second stage two men only were seen.[5] On arriving
at the fourth station--Dubininskaya--I discovered that I had lost a
large pocket-book, or paper wallet, in which were my most valuable
documents, including the letter from the Minister of the Interior, my
podorojna, and other official papers. This alarmed me, for without
the podorojna I could not claim post-horses to go either backwards or
forwards; and the situation was the more serious because none of the
post-people could speak anything but Russian. I made them understand
by signs that I had lost my letter-case, and that I must go back with
the yemstchik to see if I had left it at the previous station. Giving
my heavy luggage in charge to the post-mistress at Dubininskaya, I
mounted the returning vehicle. It was now nine o’clock, and quite dark,
and I journeyed in anything but a pleasant mood. I remembered, too,
with appreciation, the luxury I had had further west, in Mr. Cattley’s
tarantass, for here I had nothing but a wretched post-tumbril, without
springs, seat, or hood. One of the horses went lame, which retarded
progress, and I lay on my bear-skin, with only a shawl to cover me,
for six hours of the night, gazing up into the heavens. The moon arose
in her beauty, and the number of stars visible might have delighted
the eye of an astronomer, but I could think of nothing but my loss. At
three o’clock in the morning we reached the station, where they knew
nothing of the pocket-book, and where the guest-room was occupied by a
Chinese packman and his assistant, with whom I did not at first relish
passing the remainder of the night. One, however, got off the bedstead
and offered it me, and the other wished to give me tea, which, to say
the least, was civil. So I spread my bearskin on the wooden couch, and
the candle was extinguished. In less than two minutes I had kicked
out the tester-board of the rickety bedstead, and it came down with a
clatter, causing my room-fellows to start. “_Ladna! ladna!_” said I,
thinking this was the Russian for “all right”; and then we recomposed
ourselves. On awaking, and after further search, I ascertained that
my difficulties were increased, for I now discovered, to my dismay,
that beside the important papers alluded to in the wallet, there were
also two volumes of manuscript notes, taken in coming across Siberia.
I was now in an agony; and if crying would have availed I could well
have done it, so distressed was I at the thought of losing information
that had cost so much. It occurred to me that I might have left the
wallet at the station still further back, and, seeing a Cossack saddle
in the post-house, I pointed at it, intimating that the yemstchik
should mount, and ride courier to inquire for the lost treasure. But
he did not welcome the task, though he intimated I might have the
saddle if I chose to go myself. Thinking to quicken the post-master
into further exertion I offered a reward of five roubles if the book
could be found. Meanwhile the two Chinamen evinced great kindness and
sympathy with me in my loss, and the more so when they discovered I
was an Englishman. At breakfast they offered me rice and onions, and I
returned the compliment by inviting them to partake of bread and jam.
They were travelling to Kamen Ruiboloff, and offered me a place for two
stages in their vehicle. I resolved at first to go back, but afterwards
determined to send a note by the Chinamen to Colonel Vinikoff, asking
him to make inquiries for the wallet, and then continue my way, and to
look very narrowly on the road for what I had lost. The yemstchik was
not a good specimen of his profession, being fonder, if I mistake not,
of drink than of work, and my slender knowledge of Russian led me to
suspect that he was congratulating himself on the extra money he was
exacting from me, which, in my suppliant condition, I was ready enough
to pay if only the books could be found. At last we started, and I was
scanning the road with the eyes of a lynx when about a mile from the
station we met a post-vehicle, in which was a lady traveller whom I
had seen the previous evening at Dubininskaya. We pulled up, and she
placed her hands at distances apart, showing the length and breadth of
something that had been found, and spoke to the yemstchik, from which
I was able to make out that my troubles were over. I clapped my hands,
and pushed forward with a light heart to the station, and there was my
wallet, well hauled over, but with nothing missing. The yemstchik had
told a peasant of my loss, and of the promised reward, and he had found
the article lying in the road. I then remembered that, in the cool of
the evening, I had put on my ulster, standing up in the conveyance,
without stopping the horses, and so had jerked the wallet out of my
pocket. Never did I pay ten shillings with greater pleasure than to the
finder, after which I set forward, truly grateful, and prepared with
reanimated spirits to enjoy the prospect before me.

Leaving Dubininskaya, the post-road lay over a range of low hills, the
top commanding a view such as I had never before seen. The distant
horizon was bounded by pointed hills, and between were enormous plains
of tall, brown, luxuriant pasture, waving like fields of corn--a land
of plenty, at all events, if not flowing with milk and honey. No cities
were visible, nor a human being, nor a habitation. There were just one
or two spots where the grass had been cut and piled in heaps, but the
abundance that remained seemed to mock such puny efforts. The hills
were wooded with oak, and the plains with aspens, elms, lime trees,
ashes, black and white birches, maples, and walnuts.[6] In young
forests of this district are vines, roses, and a great many lilies. In
the grass land there is much wormwood and pulse, the marsh ranunculus,
and field-pink-clover. This last I saw in such abundance as to remind
one of an English clover-field. There were also wild sun-flowers, and,
growing at the roadside, wild millet, and what looked like bastard
wheat or darnel.

Nor is this richness confined to the vegetable kingdom. To the 20,000
sable-skins sold annually at Khabarofka, Southern Manchuria contributes
its quota; but I heard more of its abundance of deer, the flesh of
which sells in Vladivostock in winter from 1½_d._ to 2_d._ per lb.[7]
Wild turkeys are found in the district. Ducks and water-fowl we caused
to fly up without number on the Ussuri, and pheasants, like those in
England, rose before me as I drove to the south. At the station I was
now approaching, woodcocks cost from 10_d._ to 1_s._ each, riabchiks
or black grouse 5_d._ each, and pheasants 6_d._ each. So plentiful
were pheasants in 1875, that they could be bought for 7½_d._ a brace,
and at Paseat for 2½_d._ each.[8] This was in strong contrast to what
the telegraph inspector told me of the prices of butchers’ meat at
Vladivostock. He had been asked nearly £3 for the half of a calf, and
beef, he said, cost 5_d._ per lb.

I now and then saw large herds of cows grazing, and learned that in
1878 there were imported to the Ussuri districts 80 horses, 600 sheep
and pigs, and 1,000 head of cattle.

On arriving at the next station, Nicolsk, there was a good-sized
village, with a church, barracks of the 3rd Ussuri battalion, and, what
was better to me, a telegraph station. It was now Friday afternoon, and
I was anxious, if possible, to reach Vladivostock on the following day,
so as to be ready for Sunday. I had heard that they had been building
there a Lutheran church, and it was suggested to me at Nikolaefsk that
I might open it, as there was no resident pastor. I knew also that
steamers served on the Suifun only for the mail service, and that
when travellers required a passage, a telegram had to be sent to the
Governor. I had heard that he was absent; but as his wife spoke English
I telegraphed from Nicolsk, and said that if I could reach Vladivostock
in time I should be happy to conduct a Sunday service. In the telegraph
office I met Captain Alexander Jdanoff, to whom I gave some reading
material for his soldiers, and then went to the post-house.

I noticed in several of the houses at Nicolsk that the chimneys were
built of lattice work like English hurdles, plastered with mud. These
erections told a tale to those who could read it, the builders being
emigrants from Little Russia. So long as serfdom continued, the Russian
peasantry were rooted to the soil, and often in great poverty;[9] but
when the serfs were liberated they came in some cases to the Government
in numbers, and said, “We are poor; please send us to colonize in
Siberia, or make us Cossacks.” And the Government, desiring to populate
the Ussuri, had sent them hither, freed from taxes, and with the usual
privileges granted to colonists.[10]

The telegraphist at Nicolsk strongly advised me to push on to the
Suifun without delay, so as that night to reach the steamer, which
was to leave Rasdolnoi early on the morrow. I therefore started after
tea for a drive of 14 miles, the first stage being to Baranofskaya,
or the “sheep” station. On arriving I thought more of wolves than of
sheep, and of tigers than either. The post-house was in the middle of a
wood, and near it were burning large fires to keep away the mosquitoes
and, as I supposed, beasts of prey. It was now night, and I certainly
should have preferred proceeding by day; but I remembered the advice
just received, and told the men to put to the horses. A sailor youth,
travelling to Vladivostock, apparently on foot, and speaking a few
words of English, made himself officious on my behalf, and then wanted
to be allowed to mount my vehicle. It was too dark for me to see
what he was like, but I consented, thinking that if we did have any
encounter with wild animals or robbers, it might be an assistance to
have some one who understood if only a word or two of my mother tongue.
I sincerely hoped that we should not meet a supperless tiger, though I
think I should have been really uneasy had I known what I learned on
the morrow--that several of these animals had been killed during the
summer at the very village to which I was going.[11]

It was nearly midnight when we reached Rasdolnoi. On the way my
fellow-traveller showed that he had been drinking, and his stock of
English words proved to be very small and by no means choice. I went
to the telegraph office and ascertained that the steamer, lying a few
miles off in the river, would leave at seven next morning; accordingly,
I took up my quarters at the post-house, and at midnight was writing
up my diary when, the news having spread that a clergyman had come, a
Finnish shopkeeper, named Rosenstrom, presented himself and asked if I
would baptize his little girl. The request came at an awkward moment,
for I had ordered the horses for five. At half-past three, however,
I sallied forth, arrayed in my cassock, with the Finn to conduct me,
lantern in hand. His house was not far, though approached by a rough
road; and, passing through the shop, I found a room nicely arranged
and brilliantly lighted, with some half-dozen persons present--the
telegraph officer and his wife or sister (who had communicated my
arrival), and a Finnish friend, besides the father and mother of the
child. After the service and breakfast, dawn appeared, and by five I
was ready to depart. Much to my chagrin, however, the smoke from the
funnel, among the distant trees, showed the vessel to be moving, and
I was left behind. I telegraphed to Vladivostock to this effect, and
received a reply that the steamer would return and bring me on Monday
morning.

I had abundance of time, therefore, to inspect the little station of
Rasdolnoi.[12] Had I not felt impatient at losing the boat, I might
have enjoyed the view from the post-house, for it was exceedingly
pleasing. The country was well wooded, and the curves of the Suifun
added much to the beauty of the picture. It was in this post-house, and
only here, that I had a desperate battle with thousands of cockroaches
or _tarakans_. By day they hid themselves, but at night they came out
on to the table, the couch, and everywhere, great grandfathers and
grandmothers with their offspring to the third and fourth generation.
To wage general warfare against them was hopeless; therefore I set my
wits to work to keep the table free. I recalled a visit paid to Messrs.
Huntley and Palmer’s Biscuit Manufactory at Reading, where, on the
floor, were thousands of little insects running about. Let no lover
of Huntley and Palmer’s biscuits, however, be dismayed, for none of
these creepers are allowed to mount the tables, the legs being made to
stand each in a little pan of water; and as the emmets will not take
to swimming, they have to be content with the crumbs on the floor.
This plan I adopted with modifications. My friends had strongly urged
me to take from Petersburg a box of Persian powder, supposed to be an
abomination to B flats and F sharps. I had not used it once, but now I
surrounded each leg of the table with an embankment of the said powder,
and great was my delight to see the enemy advance, evidently thinking
to scale the ramparts and mount as usual, but, instead, suddenly stop,
hold a council of war, wave feelers, and then beat a retreat!

I was enjoying my tea on Saturday afternoon from a clean table when
two officers, a wife, and child arrived from Vladivostock. Then was
cleared up the mystery of the boat having left so early; a telegram had
been sent that it should depart at five to meet these travellers, one
of whom was merely accompanying his friends for a few miles in Russian
fashion, and was to return next day. They spoke French and a little
English, and, having started in a hurry, they asked if I could sell
them some quinine, which I thought I might venture to do, seeing that
I had not once opened my store. Arnica had been needed for the sprain
of the interpreter’s foot, but as for myself I am not sure that I had
taken so much as a pill since leaving London, so that the counsel of my
medical adviser had proved to be sound; for when I proposed to take a
lot of medicines, he strongly urged me not to carry too much, “lest,”
he said, “you should be tempted to excess.”

Though Rasdolnoi was so small a place, yet, when it became known that I
had good books in possession, several came from I know not where to buy
them. I now had time to reckon up my “takings,” and found that sales
amounted in all to about £18--not a large sum truly, but a good deal to
make up in kopecks, of which 100 equal only 2_s._ My receipts covered,
I suppose, about a fourth of the cost of the transport of books and
tracts, and as these had been given me, with grants toward their
carriage, by the Bible and Tract Societies of London and Petersburg, I
subsequently divided among them the proceeds. From Nikolaefsk I sent
to the Governor of the Primorsk 1,000 New Testaments, 10,000 tracts,
and 200 copies of the “Life of Christ,” requesting that they might be
distributed from Vladivostock to Kamchatka, to the prisons, hospitals,
soldiers, Cossacks, schools, and the seamen of the Siberian fleet; and
it has gratified me to hear, during the present year, that this was
thoroughly and carefully done. Thus I distributed in all by proxy--that
is through the authorities--about 44,000 publications, and personally
about 12,000, the exact total being 55,812 of all kinds.[13]

On my return to England I wrote to the Director of the Central
Administration of Prisons, saying what I had done, and enclosing a list
of the persons to whom and for whom the books had been given. I also
stated my “strong conviction that a wider and better knowledge of the
Holy Scriptures would do much both to lessen crime and also to reform
the criminal. Hence I wished that a copy of the New Testament might
always remain within reach of every prisoner and hospital patient in
Siberia, and I cherished the hope that some who might perhaps take
up the book to while away time might read to profit and subsequent
reformation.” To this end I asked the administration to do anything
they could to forward the successful completion of my work; and this
letter I enclosed to the Minister of the Interior, when writing to
thank his Excellency for the great kindness and attention his letter
had secured for me.[14]

My “work” was now almost done, and I looked forward with hope, for
I regard the Russian people as presenting a promising field for the
diffusion of a more spiritual religion than they now possess. Many, it
is true, do not cease to speak of Russian bribery and untruthfulness,
gambling and dishonesty. But, however that may be, there seemed to
me to be a general willingness in Russia to learn better things.
The sceptics we met were few and far between. In Western Siberia a
Polish veterinary surgeon--a Romanist--argued as if he would like to
upset Christianity, but he ended by giving money for a New Testament,
and acknowledged that he envied the experience of his antagonist.
In Eastern Siberia I met a Protestant gentleman who said that most
educated people in Siberia were materialists; but I had afterwards
reason to suspect he was measuring by his own bushel, for so material
was his creed that, though holding a high position in the Government,
with a large salary, he was not above suspicion of asking a bribe. I
ought, however, to add that a Russian critic, by no means unfriendly,
lamented to me that, owing to the want of teaching power in the
priests, men of the educated classes in Russia are, as a rule,
perfectly _indifferent_ to religion, and therefore tolerant to all
and every creed, though jealous of the orthodox Church as a national
institution.

A good type of a religious gentleman--a devotee perhaps some would
say--was an officer I met, who goes to mass every morning at five; or,
again, a lady of high rank, who, whilst continuing strictly “orthodox,”
learns to look at the errors of her Church in their least objectionable
form, and to separate the good from the bad. Another educated man, an
advocate, was typical, I should judge, of many in his rank of life.
All are required to attend church on certain occasions, and beyond
this he acknowledged that he did so very little; but it was because he
got no teaching there. He went, he said, on the festivals, from six
to twelve times a year, and oftener whilst his children were young;
but he was ready to go every Sunday if something could be learned
thereby. As for the uneducated Russians, the distances they will go,
amounting to literally thousands of miles, for religious purposes,
manifests at least something intensely earnest about religious affairs.
Never--certainly, in any other country--have I met with such eagerness
to get Scriptures and good books. This extends to both clergy and
laity. When, on one occasion, my friend who edited the _Russian
Workman_ thought of giving it up, some of the priests sent their
subscriptions again, and implored that it might be continued; and some
of those interested in the religious societies at work in the empire
have told me that, in spite of the obstacles put in their way, they
have far more opportunities of usefulness than they can use. I agree,
therefore, with those who look upon Russia as a promising field for
Christian effort.

On Sunday afternoon the officer returned to Rasdolnoi, and I began
immediately to question him. There was no ship sailing to Japan, he
said, for a fortnight; and then, by way of preface to information
respecting Vladivostock, he asked my standing, and whether I was rich
or poor. Having classed myself with those who have neither poverty
nor riches, he said that, as for himself, he was a man of means, and
that he took the journeys to the Caucasus and Egypt (of which he had
told me) because he had money in pocket, and so on--tall talk which
sank down wonderfully when I searched him out at Vladivostock.[15]
He appeared well posted, however, in his professional studies, and
willing to give me information; so, as we were to start very early in
the morning, we boarded the steamer towards sunset. The Suifun is 120
yards wide. It varies in summer from 30 inches to 7 feet in depth,
and in winter rises 20 feet. Our vessel was named _Suifun_, after the
stream, and drew 2 feet of water, and could steam 8 or 10 miles an
hour. Vladivostock was only 50 miles distant, but the boat was not
suited for the sea, and therefore, on reaching the mouth of the river
at Richnoi, 30 miles distant, we were to be transhipped to a sea-going
steamer, the _Amur_, and so landed at Vladivostock. The _Suifun_ was
not a passenger vessel in the ordinary sense of the word, but belonged
to the Government. It was used for bringing the mails from Khabarofka,
and if there happened to be passengers accompanying them, they
travelled the 50 miles free. They were, moreover, so obliging, that, if
travellers arrived and telegraphed to the post as I had done, the two
ships were put in motion; and as if that were not enough, an allowance
was made to the officers to feed hungry passengers free of expense, so
that, on the whole, this was the cheapest 50 miles I travelled.

I did not know of these arrangements at first, and heard that there
were no provisions to be had on board, and no sleeping accommodation.
My fellow-passenger slept in the open air, on deck, and I thought
I should be compelled to do the same; but the captain gave me an
excellent cabin, with plenty of room, which the officer, however,
would not share. I had not been long on board when my clerical
services were asked for a second time. We were to pass a saw-mill
where lived a Protestant family, and the captain, knowing that the
children were unbaptized, thought my coming very opportune, and asked
whether, if he stopped the steamer, I would go ashore and officiate.
As we approached Richnoi we came in sight of the mill, built, as I
afterwards ascertained, by Captain de Vries, and subsequently sold to
the Government. There are three such mills near Vladivostock, employing
39 workmen, chiefly Chinese, who earn £4,500 a year. The manager was
a Swede, named Lovelius, his wife, if I mistake not, being one of the
whaling community who had come from Finland. The father spoke a little
English, calling me “parson”; and after I had christened his three
children he placed a fee in my hand. When I demurred to take it, he
said he wished to stand indebted to no man, and added that I had saved
him a “lot of trouble,” for otherwise he must have brought all the
children into Vladivostock, when there chanced to arrive a minister or
chaplain.[16]

The saw-mill was prettily situated, and the manager received good
remuneration, but he was not much in love with his position; for one
thing, the mosquitoes troubled him, as on the previous evening they
did me.[17] Fear of the Manza robbers, however, troubled the manager
more, and he pointed to a house across the river where they had lately
murdered an old man of seventy.

On reaching the mouth of the Suifun we met the _Amur_, and the two
vessels exchanged passengers, whereupon I discovered, to my surprise,
that some of our new officers were those I had travelled with on the
Shilka. I had breakfasted that morning, not very comfortably, in the
open air, and was, therefore, ready for dinner in the officers’ cabin,
after which it was I learned that I had eaten at the expense of the
Emperor; and then, steaming down the Amur Gulf, and rounding the
promontory into the Golden Horn, we dropped anchor before Vladivostock.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] The merchant Plusnin had on one occasion been attacked in his
sledge by one of these animals; and Mr. Emery told me that, when
a tiger had been seen on the road, he had sometimes found it very
difficult to make the post-boys set out on a journey.

[2] When he left America he brought eight of a choice sort in his
portmanteau, and in three years had as many as he needed, and so fine
that they weighed 1 lb. each. The Chinese have since planted them, but
cultivate them so badly that their size has greatly diminished. On the
same land the captain sowed maize, and from one grain grew a stalk with
three heads and 900 grains. This he thought exceptional, but considered
500 grains for one an average return. He sowed in drills, and cleaned
the land with a cultivator drawn by an ox. This plan in the Western
States of America, he said, yielded six bushels an acre more than
ordinarily.

[3] This reminds me of what Mr. Emery said at Nikolaefsk, that if I
put hay into the soles of the Yakute boots I purchased, I should never
suffer from cold feet.

[4] Ginseng is found chiefly in the valleys of the Upper Ussuri, where
it is cultivated in beds, planted in rows. The earth must be a rich
black mould, and loose; and when the plant has attained the height of 4
or 5 inches, it is supported by a stick. The beds are carefully weeded
and watered, and protected from the sun by tents or sheds of wood. Wild
ginseng is said to be the best. From May to September, hundreds go out
to seek the plant; and when I asked for the Goldi natives at some of
the stations on the Ussuri, I learnt that many of them were gone to
seek for ginseng. The prices named by the French missionaries for this
root were almost fabulous, a single root being valued in Manchuria at
from £250 to £300. The plantations belong to Chinese merchants living
at a distance, and Venyukoff found the guards strictly forbidden to
sell it. He was able, however, by stealth to procure 12 roots for £4,
and his native interpreter subsequently procured 20 for 30_s._ I was
told on the river that ginseng sells for £30 per Russian lb., but that
in a bad year the Chinese count it as valuable as gold, and give up to
£40 per lb. If, therefore, these prices be paid to those who find it,
no doubt it is very expensive when sold in China, where no chemist’s
shop is without it. The root is straight, spindle-shaped, knotty, and
up to half an inch in diameter, and 8 inches in length. The leaves are
cut off, and the root is boiled in water, apparently to remove some
injurious quality; and when it has undergone fitting preparation its
colour is a transparent white, with sometimes a slight red or orange
tinge; its appearance then is that of a stalactite. It is carefully
dried, wrapped in unsized paper, and sent to market. On the Ussuri it
is used, boiled, for cold, fever, headache or stomach-ache.

[5] The first three stations--Mo, Vstrechni, and Utosni--were single
post-houses, with no other habitation in sight. The accommodation was
of the poorest; the couch at Vstrechni consisting of three boards, and
the table-cloth of linen tick. I gave the children some nuts, but not
one said “thank you,” and none could read.

[6] Mr. Ravenstein speaks of the walnut of the Ussuri as seldom bearing
fruit, and he suggests that the whole growing power may be absorbed by
the trunk and leaves; but I saw walnuts on the trees at Khabarofka,
and, when speaking of them to Baron Stackelberg, heard nothing of their
failure in fruit.

[7] The Chinese employ men in the interior to slaughter these animals,
simply for the sake of their antlers. These soft horns are exported
yearly to China in large quantities. Captain de Vries told me that on
one occasion he carried on his little schooner a load of them to the
value of £2,000, one extra good pair being worth £60. Erman states that
the jelly made of these horns is much esteemed by Chinese gourmands,
whilst Ravenstein quotes their medicinal use by the Chinese as a remedy
in female diseases. A Russian doctor, to whom I spoke upon the subject,
however, knew only of their general sedative properties, the jelly
being used, he thought, as a comforting medicine in weakness.

[8] How long this abundance of game will last is an interesting
problem, for it is a well-known fact, says M. Réclus, that the
distribution of animals over Siberia has been markedly affected by the
advent of Russian hunters. The region of the reindeer, for instance,
ought to impinge upon that of the camel; and the reindeer used to be
found on the mountains of Southern Siberia, but it now runs wild only
in the low forests and tundras of the north. The argali, or wild sheep,
is no longer found in the plains and mountains of Siberia, as it was in
the last century, but has fled southwards into Mongolia. The antelopes
and wild horses, driven from the steppes of the Gobi by cold and lack
of pasture, descend in troops in autumn towards the plains of Siberia,
followed by tigers and wolves, and hunted by men; and the slaughter
lasts till the spring allows their return to the solitudes of Mongolia.
Neither animals nor birds need a map to show them the frontier of the
two countries. It has been remarked that the same birds which permit
a stranger to approach them without fear in Mongolia, flee in terror
at the least noise on Siberian soil. Especially is this the case with
water-fowl, for the Mongols never allow birds to be shot upon the
sacred element, believing that, if the blood of a bird mixes with the
water, the flocks that drink it will speedily die.

[9] A lady in Petersburg told me that the peasantry near her country
house live for a large part of the year almost without bread, weave in
winter by the dim flame of a piece of lighted wood, and often go to bed
supperless. With a sufficiency of rye bread all the year round they
think themselves rich.

[10] I heard on the Kama in European Russia, from a Belgian, that
whereas he, as a foreigner, was free from taxation, having to pay only
1_s._ 3_d._ a year for his passport, some of the peasants have to
pay as much as 28_s._ Servants of the Crown, including priests, pay
no taxes, though their children begin to do so at the age of 21. In
Western Siberia no man (except convicts deprived of all their rights)
is free from direct taxation, the manner of collecting the tax being
similar to that followed in Russia. A census is taken every 20 years
or oftener, and a number of villages are classed together into a _mir_
(a world), from which a certain tax has to be raised. The _mir_ settle
among themselves in a kind of local parliament the proportion each
family shall pay, and then, whether the members of a family increase or
diminish, this fixed proportion goes on till the next census is taken.
This causes great inequalities. Thus a father with a large family will
be made liable for a large sum, which, so long as he has children at
home to work, he can pay; but should his sons be drawn for soldiers,
or be cut off by death, he is in a different position; though, on the
other hand, a man with a family of small children at the time of taking
the census is lightly taxed, whereas, when his children grow up and
work, he could well afford to pay more. In European Russia the census
is taken every seven or nine years, and the tax to be paid by each
family is revised oftener.

Each village receives land according to the number of its inhabitants,
but so that each “soul,” or able-bodied male or head of a family, gets
about 15 acres, a space which, properly cultivated, should suffice
for his support; but if not, land in the Primorsk government costs
only 2_s._ an acre; in fact, at Nikolaefsk, the government _gave_
land under certain restrictions for building, and up to 1875 charged
no property-tax, nor even for licences during the first ten years of
Russian occupation. When this land has been allotted to a man in Russia
with its accompanying tax, he cannot get quit of the bargain so far as
the tax is concerned. Should he find the land unprofitable he may give
up its cultivation, but he must continue to pay the tax, and hence it
often happens that a man leaves his commune and goes to a neighbouring
town for employment, but still pays taxes for the land in some remote
village he has left.

[11] In the early days of the Russian occupation tigers used to come
into the town of Vladivostock, and my host had a horse eaten by them.
His young boy once came home saying that he had seen “such a pretty
calf,” but that he could not hold in his pony, such haste did it make
to get away. Sixty-five tigers were said to have been killed in the
district the year before my arrival, and Captain de Vries told me that
on the road by which I travelled he was proceeding, early one morning,
with a farmer and his dog, when the royal beast appeared on the road a
few yards before them, at which they shouted, and the animal retired
into the forest. They went forward, the dog preceding them, whereupon
the tiger sprang out and seized the dog and bore it away. The farmer
began to mourn his loss, but the captain said, “Why, you donkey! if
the tiger had not taken the dog for his breakfast he might have taken
_you_!” I heard these things, however, _after_ my journey; and the only
tangible reminders of tigers I saw were some of their skins, offered at
Khabarofka and Vladivostock from £2, for that of a cub, to £5 for those
of full size. Prejevalsky speaks of the tiger of the district as being
equal to the royal tiger of Bengal, but, judging from the skins I saw,
it is not so handsomely marked.

[12] It being the furthest navigable point on the Suifun from
Vladivostock, the Russians in the early days of their occupation had
posted soldiers here and built barracks. They subsequently removed the
military to Nicolsk, and with them had migrated all the inhabitants
except Mr. Rosenstrom and the people at the telegraph-office and
post-house. There were plenty of log-houses still standing, to one
of which my attention was directed, and I was told that my informant
had purchased it for 10_s._--the cheapest house I had ever seen. Mr.
Rosenstrom and his friend, I discovered, were of the party of Finns
who had come to these parts to catch whales, so that he knew Captain
Stjerncreutz with whom I had travelled. I was puzzled to know how a
living could be made from a tiny shop near which there were but two
inhabited houses visible, but I found that a small trade was done with
travellers passing to and from Vladivostock, by hawking, and with
workmen building a shed at the river side.

[13] The governors of Tobolsk, Tomsk, Akmolinsk, and Semipolatinsk,
of Yeneseisk, Irkutsk, and Yakutsk, were requested to apportion
the Scriptures to prisons, hospitals, poor-houses, and similar
institutions, and to disperse the tracts in schools, as widely
as possible. The governors of the Za-Baikal, Amur, and Sea-coast
provinces, in addition to this, were asked also to distribute extra
supplies to the army, navy, and Cossacks.

[14] I would take this opportunity of expressing my thanks to the
Religious Tract Society of London and its colleagues in Russia for the
gracious way in which the Committee has always accepted my offers of
service, and for the kind manner in which I have been trusted to act
in concert with their local agents as seemed best on the occasion. Not
a little of my success (if it may be so called), especially in Russia,
has been traceable to this; and my holiday distribution of more than
100,000 of their publications, I hope, I shall always remember with
gratitude and pleasure. An extensive work is done in Russia by the
Religious Tract Society. About 1,000,000 tracts were sold from 1875 to
1878 which is an indirect testimony that we hold more truth in common
with the Russian Church than many are aware of. In Russia, as is well
known, every book, every pamphlet, every leaflet, before it can be
published and circulated, must receive the approval of the censor; and
if the doctrine of what is printed, whether political or religious, be
objectionable, its publication is forbidden. Further, it is pretty well
known what kind of doctrine, and what kind only, the Committee of the
Religious Tract Society approves. Hence, if these two things be put
together, and it be remembered that tens of thousands of tracts are
circulated in the empire which the Committee approves, and to which the
Synod does not object, then surely it is pretty clear that the Russians
and ourselves have in religious matters a great deal of common ground.

[15] My travels in Russia have led me to the conclusion that in the
interior of that country it is not always wise to be too modest about
divulging one’s income. An English officer in plain clothes, passing
lonely through Kiakhta, was asked by a merchant, who had shown him some
attention, what was his income; whereupon the officer told him that
of a captain of Royal Engineers in full pay on foreign service, which
greatly astonished the Siberiak. He said he would mention it to the
chief man of the town, who, he felt sure, would call upon him. And so
he did, and the captain received a marked increase of attention. Again,
before starting last year for the Caucasus, I was told of the potency
there of wearing arms and insignia of office, and of the difference it
makes at the post-stations in getting horses, whether the traveller
wears a plain hat, or one adorned with gold, or bearing the tchinovnik
cockade. Accordingly, I so far profited by this information as to put
on certain splendid array which I possess as I approached the stations,
and (I will not say _therefore_) I obtained my horses.

This is further illustrated by the treatment received by an able
correspondent of the _Times_, who has recently been in the Caucasus. On
arriving at a station, he was informed that he could not have horses
because they were detained for an English general, whose arrival was
expected every minute. Somewhat chafed, the correspondent took to
his legs, being anxious to secure a certain view before nightfall;
and it was not till he reached the next station, tired and enraged,
that his vexation was turned into mirth by discovering that the
horses had all the while been intended for himself. The préfet had
politely telegraphed to the post-masters to have horses ready for “a
distinguished” Englishman; and as the one idea of distinction in the
mind of a Russian peasant is the rank of a general, the post-master was
expecting an officer in uniform, and the correspondent in plain clothes
not coming up to this, he refused him the horses.

[16] I did not grasp the full meaning of this till some days after,
and then I learned that every child in Russia must have a certificate
of baptism, wanting which sundry civil difficulties may arise. It was
well, therefore, that I chanced to give certificates on these two
occasions, of which I sent notice, 6,000 miles off, to Moscow, to be
copied into the register of “the nearest parish church.” The Russian
certificate of baptism gives the sponsors’ names, and is signed over
a 15_d._ stamp by the officiating priest and deacon. The certificate
is then sent to the bishop’s registry for another stamp of like value,
in addition to which, to expedite the matter, it is customary to add a
rouble or two for the bishop’s clerk.

[17] I had been recommended sundry remedies against these insects,
and small vermin generally,--such as the burning of incense, a
mosquito mixture of _pyretum roseum_, and another, the essential oil
of cloves. I was prevailed upon to take some of the last-named, and
offered the bottle to the officer travelling with me to try the first
experiment. It made his hands and face tingle, but not in vain; and
I followed suit, to find that the little nuisances approached one’s
skin, evidently with malicious intent, and then changed their minds and
sailed away.

CHAPTER LII.

_VLADIVOSTOCK._

Situation of town.--Lodged with Captain de Vries.--Chinese
labourers.--Chinese convicts.--Coreans.--Inhabitants of
Vladivostock.--Presented at the Governor’s house.--Admiral
Erdmann’s improvements.--Visit to barracks.--Boys’ high
school.--Education in Russia, its cost and method.--Vladivostock
Girls’ Institute; and Free School.--Statistics of
crime.--Telegraph companies.--Sunday services.--Protestantism
in Siberia.--Village of exiles.--General remarks on
exiles.--Preparations for departure.

Vladivostock derives its lordly name from its supposed “command of the
east.” The town overlooks an inlet, sheltered by islands, at the end
of a promontory jutting out from the middle of the bay of Peter the
Great. Behind the harbour rises a lofty hill, crowned by a watch-tower,
to which I climbed during my stay, and was rewarded by a remarkably
fine view. Northwards stretched the well-wooded Muravieff promontory.
East and west lay the gulfs of the Amur and the Ussuri, down the former
of which I had steamed from the Suifun; whilst to the south were
mountainous islands with rocky headlands, separated from the mainland
by the eastern “Bosphorus.” Descending from this elevated spot, and
looking from the verandah of the Governor’s house, a less extensive
view is obtained, but a very pretty one, comprising the entrance to the
harbour called the “Bay of the Golden Horn,” with its two headlands
forming the west and southern shores. The depth of water within the
harbour is from 30 to 60 feet, and, at the entrance, about double these
soundings. The “Bosphorus” is from 60 to 120 feet in depth, and after
passing Kazakevich Island, this increases to 200 feet and upwards.

As I steamed into the harbour on Monday afternoon, the 15th September,
it was well filled with the ships of many nations, including Chinese
junks with their clumsy sails. A German gunboat had just replaced an
English line-of-battle ship, and an Italian man-of-war arrived during
my stay. There were Russian ships from the Siberian and Pacific fleets,
merchant vessels (of which 50 a year visit the port), and a number of
boats, many of which ply between Vladivostock, Olga, and Paseat bays. I
found, however, no regular service to Japan, but was told that I could
probably leave in a Russian man-of-war within a fortnight.

I sought a lodging with Captain de Vries, a Heligolander by birth,
who, when in command of a passenger ship plying between England and
New York, had become an American subject, and had again changed his
nationality to Russian on settling in Siberia at the time of the
annexation of the Amur. He had travelled over Siberia, and had a
minute knowledge of the Amur and Russian Manchuria; so that from him I
acquired a great deal of information, whilst his kind-hearted English
wife spared no pains to make me comfortable. In fact, I found the 15
days of my stay at Vladivostock the pleasantest of my tour; for not
only had I time to rest and write and acquire information, but I was
almost daily received as a guest at the houses of the Governor, or of
some of the many inhabitants who spoke English.

The population of Vladivostock in the Almanack is stated to be 8,431,
but was estimated to me on the spot at 5,000. The births for 1878 were
given by the priest as 184, marriages 13, and deaths 102, of which last
66 were males. The population, however, must fluctuate greatly, for
during the previous year 8,000 troops had been quartered in and about
the town; and I saw the earth batteries they had thrown up to receive
the English, in case the treaty of Berlin had been settled the wrong
way. Happily it went the right way; and when H.M.S. _Iron Duke_, on a
northern cruise, steamed into Vladivostock, instead of being injured
by torpedoes or fired upon, the officers were invited to dine at the
admiral’s house. I judged the party must have been a pleasant one,
for the commander of the Siberian fleet told me he had been immensely
pleased with the English admiral, and the Governor’s wife and family
had nothing to say of the officers but what was gracious and kind.

A large number of the inhabitants of Vladivostock are Manzas, Coreans,
and Chinese, whose presence is looked upon in different lights. My
host, for instance, thought their numbers a hindrance to Russian
progress, because they outbid the Russians, work cheaper, and undersell
them. In fact, this was one of the subjects upon which the captain used
to wax warm. Accustomed to the high prices of American markets, he was
sorely offended at the insignificant profits proposed to him by the
Chinese, and, after speaking of their miserable offers for his goods
or services, he used to wind up his orations by telling me, in not
quite classical English, “There ain’t no footur for this country.” The
Governor’s wife and other Russians thought differently, for, apart from
the larger exports and imports,[1] they had the Chinese to thank for
the vegetable market and the performance of a great deal of local work
at a cheap rate, which otherwise would possibly not have been done at
all.[2]

Emigrants from the Corea take refuge on Russian soil, in spite of
the Corean death penalty attached. In 1868 there were 1,400 of these
fugitives; but in the following year, when floods in the Corea drove
additional multitudes to seek refuge on neighbouring soil, their
further immigration was forbidden by the Russians, and some of the
fugitives were sent back, and, on their return, decapitated.[3]

Sad accounts of the Manzas were heard at Vladivostock. My host
employed, he said, an old man whom he one day missed, and found that
he had been murdered, to be robbed of £10. The Manzas are pirates
also. In their transactions with the Russians the Chinese demand to be
paid in silver money, and this they take home by sea. Hence I saw more
silver roubles in the Sea-coast province than I had observed in any
other part of the empire. I saw too, at Khabarofka, a considerable sum
of silver money in Mexican dollars. The Manza robbers, accordingly,
watch for the boats, murder the crews, and secure the booty.

The Coreans were described as very industrious. They dress in white,
and tie up their hair in the shape of a horn. Their summer hats
resemble those of the Gilyaks, except that they are hexagonal instead
of circular. I went into some of their houses, the walls of which were
of mud, plastered on a framework of straw. The floor was of beaten
earth, with a mud fireplace in the centre, and a divan round the walls.
In the best houses, the wife had a separate apartment. Fire burns in
the centre by day, and the flues, under the divan, are heated morning
and evening. The people live on millet and rice, and use a spoon of
bronze, with a nearly circular flat bowl. Taking one from a man who
was eating, I presented the spoon in one hand and a silver coin in the
other, intimating that I wished to buy; and when he had taken the coin
the master of the house came up, and, receiving from me the spoon and
from the man the coin, he graciously returned them both, implying that
he _gave_ me what I desired.

The Russian inhabitants of Vladivostock consist almost entirely of
officers and persons connected with the army and navy, and there are
several foreign inhabitants besides,--some of them Germans, Finns, and
Americans. England was represented by an engineer, who went there, I
believe, as a mechanic, and whose son-in-law, at the time of my visit,
was mayor of the town.[4]

In 1878 there were in Vladivostock 80 merchants of the first guild, who
pay in Russia a tax of £50 per annum; 185 of the second guild, who pay
£6 per annum; 228 temporary merchants, and 99 street-hawkers; also 215
first-class and 209 second-class clerks.[5]

The junks of the Chinese, their little houses of wood, their sheds
and implements, give to Vladivostock a different aspect from that of
ordinary Siberian towns. The Russian houses are chiefly of wood, and
among the public buildings are both barracks and winter quarters for
the seamen of the fleet. To these must be added the Admiralty, an
officers’ club, two high-class schools for boys and girls, a library,
two free schools, a Russian and a Lutheran church, two telegraph
stations, a dockyard, and the Governor’s house.

At this last I was presented, on the day after my arrival, by Captain
Naumoff, the captain of the port. The Governor was away on a tour of
inspection, but I was introduced to Madame Erdmann, who spoke excellent
English, and had all the manners and charm of an English lady. She
was a German-Russian from the Baltic provinces, and both she and her
husband were Protestants--and zealous ones, too, for they had come
out to Vladivostock with the intention of effecting some good in the
place, and were evidently doing it. My host, Captain de Vries, bore
testimony to the material improvements which had been made by the
Governor; for, said he, until the admiral came, “we had no road for the
buggy.” His Excellency made also a pretty pleasure-garden at his own
cost, for which, now that it is finished, the Government allows a grant
for maintenance. Admiral Erdmann, who combined the three offices of
Admiral of the Fleet, Chief of the Military, and Civil Governor of the
province, drew a stipend of about £2,000 a year, kept an establishment
of 15 servants, and seemed to take pleasure in entertaining in
vice-regal style the officers of men-of-war of all nations visiting the
port.

But Admiral and Madame Erdmann have left other monuments than these
to testify to their endeavours to promote the welfare of the town.
When they arrived there was no system of poor relief, whereupon her
Excellency called together the ladies of the place, and organized
a society which has been an immense benefit. She proposed, in the
first place, to build a free school, which was done. The institute or
boarding-school for girls also was enlarged, and Madame had been the
prime mover in another effort to build a Lutheran church and manse. The
means by which funds were raised for these charitable objects were, in
part, concerts and fancy fairs. One that took place during the first
week I was there was described to me as resembling those in England,
and I heard that by two such fêtes within a fortnight they cleared the
sum of £500.

I was invited to dine at the admiral’s house soon after my arrival,
and met there the officers of the Russian clipper _Djiguitt_, in which
I afterwards left Siberia. A band performed during the evening, and
fairly surprised me by its excellence; for I had met with nothing to
equal it in Russia, and had heard little music of any kind in crossing
Siberia. This dinner-party brought me into contact with several
naval people, and I subsequently met a Commander Terentieff, who was
exceedingly kind in translating for me. He accompanied me one morning
to the temporary barracks of the first battalion, whose chief is the
Grand Duke Alexei. Its standard was presented by Peter the Great, and
the Commandant informed me with pride that it was this battalion that
escorted the Russian Ambassador across the Mongolian desert to Peking
in the seventeenth century. The barracks were shown me as something
noteworthy, in that they were built of mud-bricks not burnt, after
the fashion of the new ones at Tashkend. All inside was orderly, but
the bedsteads were somewhat close together. Some of the extras in
furniture, such as here and there a bright counterpane or quilt, had
been purchased by the economies of the regiment. I tasted their soup,
and found it excellent. The men varied in age from 22 to 26. Barracks
of ordinary bricks for 200 men were in course of construction. Usually
the Russian soldiers are their own builders, but in this instance
accommodation, including a room for gymnastics convertible into a
chapel, was being erected by Chinese labourers at a cost of £6,000.

From the barracks we went to the lock-up, where were 20 military and
21 civil prisoners, the latter being for the most part Manza brigands.
At our entrance they went down on all-fours, and continued in that
posture whilst one was deputed to ask how their trial was going on; and
another, thinking, I suppose, to expedite matters, said that he wished
to be baptized. They were a sorry-looking lot; but I must give them
credit for keeping their chamber cleaner than the Russian prisoners
did. The hide upon which each of them slept was neatly rolled up, and
all was arranged in order.

The commander took me to visit the boys’ pro-gymnasium or high-class
school for 45 scholars, established four years previously. It was
modelled on precisely the same plan as all the schools of its class
throughout Russia. Hence two boys in the same grade of school, though
one may be at Moscow and the other at Vladivostock, go through the
same studies, and keep the same hours to each subject. The scholars
dress in a blue and white uniform, and a boy, after passing through
the preparatory class, goes on through the various grades up to the
sixth, or, for a higher education, to the seventh and eighth classes.
He may then go to the university, or to the Lyceum, to study philology
and jurisprudence; or, again, to one of the academies, with a view to
special studies, such as medicine, mineralogy, divinity, etc.

The cost of education in Russia, as compared with England, is low.[6]
The Russian curriculum looks very formidable on paper, and I have
heard from an English tutor in Russia that the boys are obliged to
work exceedingly hard to pass their examinations. He thought they
were worked harder than English boys, and acquired more theoretical
knowledge, though the education is of a less practical character than
in England.[7] Corporal punishment is forbidden, and is replaced by
impositions; and when these are inflicted the scholar receives a note
stating his fault, which he must take home and bring back signed by
his parents. Should a boy fail to pass his examination in each of his
classes, he is usually turned out of the gymnasium, which is a serious
loss to him, because a boy gains military exemptions according to the
class he is in on leaving school.[8]

Besides the boys’ school at Vladivostock I visited the girls’
institute for the daughters of naval officers, and witnessed the
opening religious ceremony of blessing the house after the long
vacation. Each child as she came up to kiss the Gospels was sprinkled
with holy water, as were also the visitors; after which the priest and
his assistant went over the building, sprinkling in all directions. The
inspector subsequently declared what children were to be advanced to
higher classes. The subjects taught were in keeping with those of the
boys’ gymnasium, from which the institute differed in that the children
were lodged, clothed, and boarded; 12 free, the rest on payment of £20
per annum. The Government gives a grant of £1,000 per annum towards
this school, and the remainder is made up by the children’s fees and
voluntary contributions. The cleanliness and good arrangement of this
building were striking, not to say luxurious. A great deal, no doubt,
was due to the fact that the Governor’s wife visited one of the schools
every day. The senior class had two girls of 15 and 16 years of age. To
my questions in geography they gave good answers, and in the Gospels
fair. They had not read the Epistles, but were expecting so to do that
year. One girl was from a peasant home, the other the daughter of a
foreign merchant, but they appeared throughout to stand on a level
with the officers’ daughters. They had a custom of posting up on a
red board for a year the name of the best girl in the school. At the
time of my visit the same maiden had held this “blue ribbon” for five
years consecutively. Whether it was for excellence of intellect or
conduct I know not, but I amused them by offering a prize, such as I
had seen given in the schools of the Irish Church Missions, called the
“best beloved” prize. The girls were ranged in a line, and each came
and whispered in the ear of the teacher the name of the schoolfellow
she loved best, and the girl who gained the highest number of votes
received the prize. The idea was new to them, and they said the
whispering was like going to confession.

There was yet another school the Governor’s wife took me to see--the
little free school--built by the society she had founded, and of which
it is not too much to say that it was the neatest and best-built house
in the town. It was furnished in a manner that would be thought too
good for a ragged school in England, and it struck me, as did the
institute, that it was somewhat over-provided with teachers.[9]

There were 30 children on the books, of whom one class came in the
morning, and the other in the afternoon. The religious instruction
consisted in learning the 10 principal prayers of the Russian Church
from a small primer, the contents of which would be as much or, I was
told, rather more religious knowledge than the average Russian peasant
would know. The children received at Christmas presents of clothing,
and a marked increase of attendants takes place as the time for the
gifts draws near--a phenomenon not confined to Siberian schools!

Madame Erdmann told me of an industrial school in the town for boys,
where they are paid 6_d._ a day for their work. It must not, however,
be inferred from these remarks about the educational condition of
Vladivostock that things so prevail throughout the province. On the
contrary, there are only 15 elementary schools throughout the Primorsk,
attended by 215 boys and 66 girls; and the low condition of education
was alleged to the Emperor as one of the principal causes of crime in
the district.[10]

The foreign communications of Vladivostock are in summer tolerably
numerous. Ships from various nations come northwards to avoid the heat
of the tropics, or to get coal at Dui, and put in at Vladivostock
for provisions, the prices of which, in the meat and vegetable
markets, immediately rise on the arrival of a large ship. Again, the
inhabitants of this town in the far east have the advantage of two
telegraph stations, by one of which they can send a message to London
through Siberia, and by the other _viâ_ China and India. The latter
wires are those of the Great Northern Telegraph Company, opened in
1871, and passing through Hakodate and Nagasaki, thence to Shanghai and
Amoy, and so on to India and Suez. The latter wire goes by the route I
followed as far as Khabarofka, there meeting wires from Nikolaefsk, and
then continues across Siberia by the route I travelled. The number of
messages sent in 1878 from Russia to China was 595, and to Japan 515,
or 1,100 in all.

Of the two Siberian wires, one, I found, is reserved for international
correspondence. Of 20,000 messages passing from the south through
Vladivostock, no less than 15,000 were in English. Of the remaining
5,000, those in the French and German languages absorbed the larger
proportion.[11]

The director of the Great Northern Company was Mr. Russell, at whose
house I dined, and whose wife played the harmonium at the Sunday
service. I have already mentioned the heartiness with which Russians
and foreigners alike assisted these services in the Primorsk. At
Nikolaefsk, not only did the authorities send round notice of what was
to take place, but they seemed to vie with one another in offering
assistance. The military commandant offered the use of a room at the
club; the captain of the port, being a Protestant, seemed almost
aggrieved that his house from the first had not been chosen, and the
chief civil authority lent the best room in the Governor’s residence,
and attended the service with other dignitaries in full uniform. There
were present on the first Sunday 33 persons, Greeks, Romans, and
Protestants, representing Russia, Poland, England, America, Finland,
Germany, and Sweden. Some came, doubtless, out of curiosity to see the
first English service on the Amur, but many were able to understand;
and on the second Sunday, which was wet, there were 20 persons present,
all men but one. At Vladivostock the service was held in the new
Lutheran church. The congregation numbered 27 persons, representing
quite as many nationalities as at Nikolaefsk, and some Swiss besides.
So few were familiar with the offices of the English Church that I was
compelled to make the service of an irregular character; but it was
pleasant, after the sermons, to have one and another grasping one’s
hand, and expressing their thanks for what they had heard. Some of them
had not had such an opportunity for a long time. I was greatly struck
with one thing that reached me in connection with these services. Some
of the Russians had never attended a Protestant service before, and
more than one remarked upon its solemnity. This I thought remarkable as
coming from persons who from childhood had been accustomed to an ornate
and very elaborate ritual, and none other. They were plainly struck
by the quietness that prevailed and by the appeal to the intellect as
manifest in the sermon, in contrast to their service of worship only,
with persons moving hither and thither; and a well-educated officer,
commenting upon the solemnity of the service, said that he had never
before been impressed by a sermon in his life.

The offertory at Vladivostock was given to the building fund, for the
church was not quite finished. A resident pastor was expected to arrive
in the course of a few months, which would make four Lutheran ministers
in Siberia, instead of the former three living in or near Omsk, Tomsk,
and Irkutsk, their general superintendent, Pastor Jürgenssen, living at
Moscow. The number of Protestant churches in Siberia is five, and of
Protestants about 7,000. At Ekaterineburg are living some 300 German
Protestants, but nine persons, we heard, was considered a large Sunday
congregation. In the vicinity of Tobolsk some of the Lettish peasants
were said to have joined the Russian Church, and some to have fallen
away from religion altogether. The account, however, of 1,800 Finns
living at Ruschkova was better. They had petitioned for, and were
awaiting, a pastor.

At Vladivostock I took my farewell of Siberian exile life at an
experimental penal colony called “First River” village. Accompanied
by the German captain of the _Cyclop_, Captains Boris and Charles de
Livron, and a lady, we proceeded thither on horseback, by a pretty
ride through a partially-cleared forest, till, from the top of a hill,
we saw a brewery, brick-fields, and, not far distant, nestling among
the trees, the exiles’ village. It consisted of about 20 log houses,
occupied by 15 convicts and five others who had served their time,
and who might have removed elsewhere, but they so far liked their
quarters that they chose to remain. Two naval men lived in the village
for the purpose, ostensibly, of keeping order, and a few Chinese had
been attracted to settle in the place. Four of the convicts were under
sentence of 15 years’ hard labour, one for 20 years, and one for life.
They were condemned to Sakhalin, but, seeing that their wives had
accompanied them, and that there was not enough work in the coal-mines,
the kind-hearted Governor had obtained permission to place them in the
little colony as an experiment. The men had built their own houses, and
took it in turns to go into Vladivostock, from eight to twelve, to do
night work. They might earn what they could by day, and the wives were
able to add to the store by laundry work. One wife had by this means
possessed herself of two cows.

Besides this, they might take as much land as they chose to cultivate.
They were growing potatoes, pumpkins, cucumbers, and cabbages, but the
soil was said to be unsuitable for corn. Pigs and poultry were running
about; and though, according to their own account, one of them with
seven children found it difficult to make a living, yet the others did
so easily.

One of the convicts, thinking I was a Government official, informed
me that he had not yet received his new clothes, whereupon I learned
that, when they begin to colonize, they receive monthly 72 lbs. of
flour and 5_d._ a day. Every year they received a _shuba_, or sheepskin
coat, underlinen, two pairs of winter boots, three pairs of summer
shoes, and, once in three years, a long coat. In one of the best of
the houses we found a clean, orderly room, with a good samovar, and
plenty of pictures and photographs. The owner possessed two cows and
a horse; so we were told, at least, by a fellow-convict, who took us
into his garden and seated us beneath a bower of wild vines. Milk and
wild grapes were afterwards brought for our refreshment. This man had
been in the Imperial Guard, and had finished his military service,
when, having invited some friends to his house, he killed one of
them in a drunken quarrel. I tried to get at the relative positions
of some of these convicts before the committal of their crimes and
after, and found in one case that in Russia the man was a drunkard and
poor, whereas in this village he could live well, and could not get
intoxicated so easily, by reason of his distance from Vladivostock.
There were but one man and one woman in the village who could read, and
one had friends who corresponded with him from Russia. The children
were educated at the industrial school at Vladivostock. Thus my last
specimen of Siberian exile life was the most favourable of all.

I had now followed the exiles from Moscow all across Siberia, and, with
the exception of the mines at Nertchinsk and Dui, had seen them under
the varying circumstances in which they live. Looking at the matter
calmly and dispassionately, I am bound to say that “exile to Siberia”
no longer calls up to my mind the horrors it did formerly. I am quite
prepared to believe that instances have occurred of bad management,
oppression, and cruelty. I have already quoted some cases; but that the
normal condition of things has been exaggerated I am persuaded. Taken
at the worst, “condemned to the mines” is not so bad as it seems, and
in the case of peasant exiles, willing to work, I cannot but think
that many of them have a better chance of doing well in several parts
of Siberia than at home in some parts of Russia. English people are
accustomed to think of exiles like the parents of “Elizabeth,” banished
to a region in the far north where scarcely anything grows; but a
little consideration would show this to be, in the great number of
cases, extremely unlikely, for the Government would then have to keep
them, whereas in the south they can keep themselves. On the sea coast,
women convicts get excellent places as servants. One hardship connected
with their lot is that, until they have served their time or gained
their good conduct class, they cannot marry; and even then the husband,
if a free man, must undertake not to quit Siberia and so leave his wife
behind. This law is rigidly enforced. I heard of one case of a woman
who had behaved particularly well, and whose husband wished to return
to Russia, for which even the Governor of a province petitioned, but
the request was refused.

A lady told me at Vladivostock that some of her convict servants had
recently said to her, “We have such a good time of it here in Siberia,
that, had we known it, we would certainly have committed a crime before
to get here; and now we mean to write to our relations and tell them
to do something to get sent here too,”--a speech that will probably
strike the reader as the foolish saying of a servant girl, but the
truth of which, _in this particular case_, I do not doubt. The servant
had the good fortune to be taken into the service of Madame Boris de
Livron, who had spent many years in America, and of whose home I can
speak, because I dined therein; and one had only to contrast with it
some wretched _izba_ in European Russia, from which, perhaps, the woman
came, and her laborious work in the fields, to render it exceedingly
likely that she spoke, after all, only the sober truth. That this was
an exceptional case may very well be, and so also the exile village was
in a manner exceptional, for the exiles are usually planted, on their
release, among colonists, rather than put into villages by themselves;
but I have quoted these instances as the least repulsive forms of exile
life that came under my notice, and to show that, once set free from
prison, the prosperity of the banished is pretty much in their own
hands.

Before leaving Vladivostock I called upon the priest, who gave me
information about the church, and I likewise made the acquaintance of
several of the merchants, among them Mr. Lindholm, who had whaling
vessels in the Sea of Okhotsk. With him I exchanged my paper money, at
the rate of two roubles four kopecks per Mexican dollar, taking with me
a draft on his partners, Messrs. Walsh, Hall, and Co. of Yokohama. Thus
prepared I awaited the return of the Governor, and on Monday afternoon,
September 29th, the admiral’s flag appeared in the harbour; the naval
captains and military officers assembled to present their reports, and
I got my luggage on board the _Djiguitt_. Madame Erdmann insisted on
my coming, however, the same evening to be introduced to the admiral,
which I thought very kind, immediately after his prolonged absence, and
the weariness of his journey. A warm reception was accorded me by the
Governor, a lively interest manifested in my plans, and I left _terra
firma_ to sleep in the ship.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Réclus gives these statistics concerning Russian trade with China:--

Average of 1827-31, £120,000 exports, £20,000 imports, £140,000 total;
_i.e._, 1 per cent. of total Russian trade.

” 1842-46, £650,000 exports, £650,000 imports, £1,300,000 total;
_i.e._, 8 per cent. of total Russian trade.

” 1864-68, £580,000 exports, £450,000 imports, £1,030,000 total;
_i.e._, 2·5 per cent. of total Russian trade.

The year 1876, £250,000 exports, £1,410,000 imports, £1,660,000 total;
_i.e._, 2 per cent. of total Russian trade.

[2] The number of Chinese and their congeners in the Russian littoral
was estimated, in 1873, at from 3,000 to 7,000; and this would be
multiplied a hundredfold if free emigration were permitted. In 1861,
after the cession of the Sea Coast to the Russians, the Chinese
Government forbade its subjects any longer to colonize in the country
with their wives. The rich, therefore, returned home, leaving the poor;
and these were joined by Manchu brigands and vagabonds, generically
called Manzas, or Freemen--so named in reproach by the Chinese as
outlaws, though the Manzas call themselves _Pao-toui-tzi_, that is,
“walkers” or “couriers.”

[3] In 1873 there were about 3,500 Coreans in the Primorsk, of whom,
says Réclus, more than half permitted themselves to be baptized--the
correctness of which latter statement I am disposed to doubt. I heard
nothing of any such number of Corean Christians, and the priest at
Vladivostock told me that in ten years he had baptized only about 10
pagans. He was not a missionary, it is true, nor did I hear of one so
far south.

[4] In Russian towns having not less than 5,000 inhabitants there
are 30 supervisors, three more being added for each 1,500 of the
population; and it is over these the mayor presides. Other civic
arrangements, applying to towns, are an _uchastok_, consisting of from
10 to 20 houses; a _quartal_, or square, or block; a chast, consisting
of from five to ten quartals; and a _government_ town of three chasts
and upwards. The police-master is at the head of affairs; under him is
a _chastny pristaf_ for each chast, under whom are chiefs of quartals,
with uchastok officers under them.

[5] Manufactured goods were brought to the town to the value of
£100,000, of which £40,000 worth were transported into the interior,
and the increase of trade was reported to be 20 per cent. on that of
the previous year; but I am not aware to what departments of trade
this increase is to be apportioned, or whether it was due to the
abnormally large garrison. Réclus gives the commerce of Vladivostock in
1879:--Imports, £218,495; and exports, £10,452.

[6] For instruction and books the first three classes pay 18_s._ a
year, the three higher classes £3 2_s._ a year. In certain places
only they can board and lodge, in which case they pay £24, or, with
clothing, £32 per annum. The average total cost of a boy’s education,
exclusive of food and clothing, up to the age of 21, in high-class
schools in Russia, is £240, and for special schools for army, navy,
etc., £300.

[7] The subjects of Russian study are as follows: Prayers learnt
_memoriter_; explanation of most important chapters in Old and New
Testaments; Old and New Testament history; principles and doctrines
of the Orthodox Church; catechism; Divine revelation, sacred legends,
and holy writings; ancient and modern books; faith, hope, charity:
Greek and Russian Church histories; Sclavonic and Russian language
and literature: Latin, Greek; arithmetic, algebra, geometry, plane
trigonometry, and physical geography: natural sciences, electricity,
galvanism, light, heat, motion, meteorology, chemistry: natural
history, geology, botany, zoology: history, ancient, modern, Oriental,
Greek, and Roman: geography: German, and one other modern language at
choice, except that in certain seaport towns (as at Vladivostock) it
_must_ be English. This course applies to boys’ gymnasia throughout
Russia, and all the principal subjects are compulsory. Others may be
studied out of the gymnasium, such as music, languages, technology,
practical chemistry, etc.

[8] Thus, whilst 7 years’ service is exacted from a recruit who is
uneducated, and 3 years from one who has passed through an elementary
school, a boy who goes from the 5th class of a gymnasium serves as a
soldier only 2 years; from the 6th class only 1 year; and from the 7th
class, or the university, only 6 months, after which he can be examined
for an officer’s commission, or may retire into the first reserve
during 10 years, and then into the second reserve up to 40 years of
age, after which he is altogether free from military service.

[9] I learnt something of Russian teachers’ salaries. At the institute
the directress received £150 per annum; two teachers £100 each; an
assistant £60; linen custodian £25; housekeeper £30. They had 42
scholars; and in the building they employed 8 male and female servants,
at a salary of £1 per month each. Beside this home staff there were 15
outside teachers, amongst whom the priest received £70 a year. At the
boys’ gymnasium the teacher of English received £7 10_s._ per month,
and the teacher of German £25; or, to put it in another way, teachers
of languages and of the four higher classes received 10_s._ a lesson,
and those of the lower three classes 6_s._ The teachers elect from
their own number an inspector, who receives an additional £60 per annum
and a house rent free. Further, the Government appoints a director, at
a salary of £250 per annum. All teachers in Siberia appointed by the
Government receive an increase of 25 per cent. of their salary every
five years; and after ten years’ service have an annual pension of half
their salary.

[10] Thus the official report dealing with the morality of the people
called attention to the fact that many are convicts and soldiers sent
to the district for punishment, to the unusually large importation
of alcohol and Chinese brandy, to the high price of necessaries, the
insufficient number of free marriageable women, and, lastly, to the
low condition of education. The chief causes of crime were given as
gambling and drunkenness; and the crimes committed in 1878 were:
insubordination to authorities 13, breaking prison bounds 4, vagrancy
31, murder 5, personal violence 11, libel and assault 12, theft 27, and
highway robbery 11.

[11] A comparison of the salaries of the clerks shows the English
company to pay a higher rate. The English company has 25 European
clerks, independently of Japanese, Chinese, and Portuguese
subordinates. The European clerks begin at a salary of £320 a year, and
go on to £420, after which they ascend to higher offices and shorter
hours as superintendents, etc., and rise to £800 a year or more. In the
Russian service a clerk begins at £2 12_s._ a month if speaking only
Russian, and receives £2 10_s._ a month extra for each new language
acquired. A first-class clerk has about £120 a year, with a house and
perquisites; and even a superintendent receives only £280, with the
like additions, part of which consist of rye meal or flour. I heard
one man say he bought up this meal of his fellow-clerks to give to his
horse and chickens. They also receive travelling-money periodically. I
was favourably impressed with the bearing of the telegraph officials
throughout Siberia. In some cases they live a most secluded life. At
Busse, for instance, I met one who had been shut off from the world
in that tiny place on the Ussuri for nearly ten years, hoping to
realize a pension of £36 a year. The English company gives a pension,
three-tenths of salary after 10, one-half after 20, and seven-tenths
after 30 years’ service.

CHAPTER LIII.

_RUSSIANS AFLOAT._

Reflections on leaving Siberia.--Departure.--The Russian
navy.--The _Djiguitt_.--Seamen’s food, clothing,
work.--Relation between officers and men.--Received as
captain’s guest.--Progress.--Hospital arrangements.--Arrival
at Hakodate.--Divine service.--Religious professions of
seamen.--Inspection of ship.--A “strong gale.”--Russian sentiments
towards Englishmen.--Cause of dislike.--Misrepresentations by
English press.--Russian writings.--Transhipped to American
steamer.--Arrivals at San Francisco and London.

“_The sailor sighs as sinks his native shore_

* * * * *

_And climbs the mast to feast his eyes once more._”

Siberia was not my native land, and I did not climb for a last fond
look; yet I confess to drawing half a sigh as I was borne away from
Vladivostock. At all events I was not unmoved, and various thoughts
presented themselves--some, I hope, of thankfulness that I had been
permitted to cross the Old World without scratch or bruise.[1]

But my happiest reflections were connected with what has been called my
work. I entered the country very much in the dark as to what could be
done, and what I did was little enough to boast of; yet, to me, it was
a source of gratitude that I had been permitted to place within reach
of at least every prisoner and hospital patient in Siberia a portion of
the Word of God. A few opportunities also for the exercise of clerical
functions had presented themselves, such as the services at Nikolaefsk
and Vladivostock, as also some others of a private character, which
linger pleasingly in the memory. Since my return, news has come from
Archangel that the books I left in 1878 have caused inquiry and demand
for the Scriptures. Again, more than one who has followed me in
Northern Asia has told of the manner in which the books left at the
post-houses are treasured, and, last winter, two gentlemen, travelling
over a large portion of Western Siberia, found the tracts I had left
in great demand. One of them writes that they have been a boon and a
pleasure at many a peasant’s fireside. If, then, the result were no
more than this, it would be something to have ministered gratification
to tens of thousands of readers. But I had higher aims; for I believed
that in those Scriptures and tracts there were germs of new life and
thought and hope. I remembered what reading the Scriptures had done for
men in other lands,--for Luther in his cell, and Bunyan in prison; and
having sown the seed, I was content to leave it with Him in Whose name
I went forth. Then I sailed away with the thought that I had done what
little I could. Those who labour in similar fields will understand and
sympathize with my feelings, and some perhaps will breathe a prayer
that in the great day of account the harvest may be plenteous.

As the _Djiguitt_ steamed out of the harbour we fired a salute of
seven guns, and, gliding past the admiral’s house, saw his Excellency
and Madame Erdmann waving their handkerchiefs from the verandah. Our
captain, Charles de Livron, is the admiral’s son-in-law, so that there
were hearty farewells passing. Madame Erdmann had kindly expressed to
me a wish that our acquaintance thus begun might be continued, and, on
leaving, I felt that I was parting from pleasant friends, not only in
the Governor’s house, but in the town and country too. As I had applied
to Captain de Vries for lodgings, I asked, of course, for my bill; but
Mrs. de Vries would not hear of one, and the old captain said, “Well,
write me a letter, and tell me how you get home, and then come again as
soon as you can.”

We had hardly lost sight of land before I began to inquire about the
Siberian fleet, which I understood to consist of 12 ships, divided
into four classes, some being of iron and some of wood; 1 is for the
China station, and there are besides 5 transports, 2 cruisers, and 4
gunboats, the last with 3 guns each; the whole being manned by 208
officers and 2,240 seamen. Of these about 380 are employed on shore for
mechanical and building purposes, and a far larger number live ashore
in winter. Their pay is much higher (nearly double, I heard) than that
of sailors in the Baltic fleet.[2]

And now a word about the _Djiguitt_ (pronounced “Jee-geet,” and
meaning “a horseman”), on board which I was favoured with a passage
from Vladivostock to Japan. The clipper had been built four years
previously, at a cost of £62,500, and measured 218 feet long, was
of 1,300 tons burden, and fitted with engines of 250 nominal, but
1,200 registered, horse-power. She carried 200 men, with three large
guns in the middle of the deck, and four small ones at the sides. The
captain said he relied less upon his guns than upon his torpedoes,
the apparatus connected with which fired 30 for defensive and 5 for
offensive purposes. By means of wires the torpedoes--a kind supposed
to be in possession only of the Russian navy--could be moved about
under the water, and caused to explode automatically or at will. I
am incapable of judging how far this information was correct, but I
observed subsequently, from one of the English newspapers describing
the _Djiguitt_, and some of her sister ships, that they were said to be
well fitted to damage merchant shipping; and there is no doubt that,
had England and Russia declared war in 1878, this clipper would have
done her best to cripple the English commercial navy in the Pacific.

The _Djiguitt_ had three masts, could spread 15,000 square feet of
canvas, and, under sail and steam, was supposed to make 13 knots an
hour. We were not fortunate enough, however, to get up to anything near
this speed, nine knots on the first day being, if I mistake not, our
best travelling. Often it was not more than six knots, and one day we
made only 103 miles. Everything on board was scrupulously clean. The
same thing struck me at Vladivostock, when steering the boat of the
chief of the staff, in which I was rowed to the end of the harbour.
The boat was manned by six men with 18-feet oars. According to Russian
regulations, the men row up to 42 strokes a minute, and I noticed that
when their arms were outstretched the men simultaneously bobbed their
heads, but whether for obtaining more pulling power, or for appearance’
sake, I did not make out.

The sailors in the Imperial navy are now shorter than formerly. The
Russian plan was to give from recruits, taken from all parts of the
country, the tallest men to the navy, the next to the artillery, and
the next to the infantry; but now they have made an alteration, and the
navy takes the shortest.[3]

The food of the seamen on shore I have already alluded to. At sea, each
man gets 1 lb. of beef per day and plenty of biscuit. As I saw them
eating their meals, sitting at tables, or on deck in circles round a
common soup-bowl, they appeared to have enough and to spare, for a
good deal of broken victuals was at times thrown overboard; and if,
moreover, they do not eat all their allowance (which is usually the
case), they may economise and purchase extras for holidays. Rum was
served out at least once a day (for the notion that this benefits the
men is not yet exploded in Russia), but a man might forego this if he
pleased, and receive a trifling pittance instead.[4]

It was difficult sometimes on so small a ship to find work for 200
men; consequently, a large number of them were employed in labour
of a time-killing character, polishing the fittings of the ship and
guns, making them in some parts as bright as silver plate. Others were
weaving stays, or binding fine wire on telegraph lines for use with the
torpedoes. Once or twice I saw them at gun drill. The smaller guns were
breech-loaders, firing 15-lb. shot, worked by five men each; and the
larger were 90-lb. muzzle-loaders, each worked by 19 men.

There seemed to me to exist an excellent feeling between officers and
men. The captain, on leaving Cronstadt, hinted to his crew that, as he
was proceeding to Siberia, he might leave some of them there if they
misbehaved. He gave them, however, an excellent character, and said
that, on arriving in Japan, he told an officer to let him know the
number of men whose conduct since leaving port had been immaculate, and
out of 180 men more than 100 were found without a bad mark. These, by
way of encouragement, he treated to a special performance in a circus.
On another occasion the captain paid some Chinese jugglers to come
on board and give the men an exhibition, whilst, in the tropics, the
officers had given the men lectures on scientific subjects, illustrated
by a magic lantern.

On boarding the _Djiguitt_ I had as usual “fallen on my feet.” There
was a small berth in the vessel set apart for a chance passenger; but
the captain honoured me with a place at his table in his own cabin,
where things were more than comfortable. My host spoke excellent
English, to say nothing of several other languages; and so well
educated in this respect were the officers that, although the captain
usually invited two of them to dine with us daily, there was seldom or
never an occasion when they could not converse with me in English or
French. Among the officers were some of the Russian nobility, one a
prince, another a baron, and so on; and after sailing with them for 12
days, I came to the conclusion that they were gentlemen and officers
of whom any navy might be proud. The doctor played the violoncello, a
second officer accompanied on the piano, and others sang part songs. A
young baron in Siberia had told me that the officers of the army were
badly educated, and worse “elevé”; but this certainly was not the case
with the officers of the _Djiguitt_.

On Sunday the captain and I were invited to lunch in the officers’
cabin, where I was reminded of the smallness of the world by the
discovery that the first lieutenant sitting next me had been to the
Greenwich Observatory, and as he had gained scholastic distinction in
Russia, and had the privilege of spending two years in foreign study,
he thought of coming again to Greenwich to the Naval College.

We left Vladivostock on Tuesday, the 30th of September, for Yokohama,
and made fair progress till, next morning, a slight derangement of the
machinery caused us to lift the screw and depend on sails. This piece
of brass machinery, weighing nearly five tons, was heaved up by two
lines of seamen on either side of the deck, which operation interested
me, as did also some of the manœuvres for setting the sails, of which
11 were one day hoisted on the foremast, thereby spreading to the wind
about 5,000 square feet of canvas. I accompanied the captain once or
twice on his rounds of inspection, and was surprised at the stock of
carpenters’ tools and stores on board. In the kitchen, divided into two
compartments for officers and men, was a Chinese cook, who received
excellent wages (the Chinese cook at Madame Erdmann’s at Vladivostock
received £60 a year); and to him I paid the ordinary passenger’s tariff
for food of 4_s._ a day. In the fore part of the clipper were two small
compartments almost dark, used, when needed, for a prison.[5] There was
a lazarette on board, and I found that the doctor was obliged to keep
a daily report, showing the number of patients in the ship, the number
of cases standing over, new cases, cured, sent to hospital, remaining,
and dead.[6]

We sighted Japan on Friday, October 3rd, and early on Saturday morning
reached Hakodate, where the ship stayed to get coal. I went on shore,
not dreaming that I should know a creature, but soon found a missionary
with whom, as a student, I had played football and cricket; and then,
walking along the streets, a second surprise awaited me on meeting a
youth whom I had known as a boy in Sussex. We stayed only a few hours,
but I had time to visit the prison with Mr. Dening, the missionary; and
then, getting on board, we steamed away on Saturday afternoon.

On Sunday morning, at half-past nine, a white sail with a red cross
was run up to the mast-head, the bugle and drum sounded, and the crew
assembled on deck for Divine service. Two men, uncovered, reverently
brought an ikon, which was fastened by an officer to the captain’s
bridge. It was a new ikon (about two feet square) of silver gilt,
lately presented by the captain and officers of the ship at a cost of
£20. It had been purchased in Petersburg, been sent to Vladivostock _by
post_, and was used on this particular Sunday for the first time.[7]

When all was ready the officers and choir were ranged in front and the
men behind, and the Commander (in place of Captain de Livron, who is
a Lutheran) read prayers and a psalm, the men responding and singing.
The service was of short duration, but highly impressive, and very
reverential. So, too, was their daily evening prayer, just before going
to their hammocks at dusk, when the men, drawn up in double lines
facing each other, at a signal doffed their caps, and chanted the
Lord’s Prayer.[8]

After Divine service the captain proceeded officially to inspect the
ship, which he did in a very thorough manner, looking into every hole
and corner for the least speck of dust or disorder. Here a cloth had
been left in a recess, and there a piece of biscuit remained on a
shelf. Both were ordered to be removed, and the attention of an officer
was drawn to the broken hook and eye which attached the hen-house to
the bulwarks. The captain even complained because, putting his hand on
the polished brass of a gun, he found it somewhat dusty.

This, however, was fine-weather inspection, and we were to have a
taste of something different. On Tuesday and Wednesday all had been
bright. About two o’clock on Thursday morning a sudden squall struck
the ship from right ahead, and caused a commotion, but did no harm,
and for the remainder of the day the wind blew coldly from the north.
On Friday and Saturday the temperature rose, and on Wednesday, 8th
October, we passed through a warm stream with a temperature of 77°,
whilst the thermometer on deck indicated only 70°. I had frequently
asked how soon we should arrive at Yokohama, and the captain had
prudently declined to say; but on Sunday afternoon he volunteered the
remark that he was able to assure me that we should be at Yokohama in
four days. Luckless boast! for the words had not been long spoken when
there came on a tempest such as I had never experienced. Towards sunset
the wind whistled and blew “a strong gale,” that would be marked 9 in
the Beaufort notation (the remaining three degrees being 10, “a whole
gale”; 11, “a storm”; 12, “a hurricane”). The topmasts were lowered,
the sails furled, and the heavy guns, lest they should break away, were
fastened by two extra lashings. Then followed great running about on
deck, and climbing the rigging, at which I was looking on amused rather
than otherwise. The captain, perceiving this, said, “Ah! we shall soon
have the water rough!” And so it came to pass; there was a pendulum
on the deckhouse to indicate the careen of the ship, the scale being
marked up to 35°, and when I say that the ship heeled over to 32°, the
reader will be prepared for the statement that in the captain’s cabin,
where I was writing, the heavy table and myself behind it quitted
our respective bases, in a very undignified manner, in favour of the
opposite side of the cabin. The carpenter was called, and the table
screwed down, after which, by tucking my knees tightly between it and a
chair, I managed to hold my own. I know not whether the jolting of the
tarantass across Siberia had rendered my nerves sea-proof, but, to my
agreeable surprise, I found myself able to write during three severe
storms on the Pacific and Atlantic. On Monday there ran “a high sea,”
which the captain marked “7” (“8” standing for “very high,” and “9”
for “tremendous,” beyond which my figures to indicate the disturbance
of the water do not go). After the storm came a calm wind with rough
waves. We dropped the screw, used steam, and to some extent steadied
the ship; but, with all our efforts, made little progress, and burnt
a great deal of coal, so that we had not sufficient to steam the
remainder of the voyage. The captain said he had never known, in so
short a space of time, so many changes of wind, barometer, and weather.

I had learned that the steamer left Yokohama for San Francisco on
Saturday, the 11th of October, and as the mail-packet makes the passage
from Hakodate to Yokohama in 64 hours, my hope was that I might land in
the early part of the week, take a peep at the capital, and then embark
for California; but the storm and the calm upset our calculations
completely, and I had nothing to do but to submit, and make the best of
my ebbing opportunities of gaining Russian information, and of getting
my statistics translated.

Being brought into such close proximity with Russian gentlemen for
several days, we naturally became somewhat intimate; restraint wore
off, and I learned more fully than I had done before the feelings of
educated Russians towards England. When passing through Petersburg
a general had said to me, “_J’adore les Anglais, mais je hais leurs
conseils_,” which, in 1879, was natural enough. Also the _Djiguitt_
had left Europe during the Russo-Turkish war, and I discovered that
her officers had brought away with them unpleasant feelings towards my
nation. One of them observed, though not unkindly, that the English had
interfered most rudely with Russian affairs, for which, he thought,
the English Government was deeply hated by the Russian people, though
Englishmen, he said, were not so. He was ready to discuss, very keenly,
the probability of war between our two nations; and did not attempt
to hide the disappointment of the Russians at being foiled of their
purpose to enter Constantinople. He thought that, if war did break out,
it would, on the Russian side, be intensely popular.

I set myself to discover, if possible, the cause of the alleged
dislike, whereupon I found that, among other reasons, he was extremely
sore about the frequent misrepresentation of Russia in English
newspapers. He complained that there were certain journals always
ready to exaggerate Russian defects; and, to be honest, I could
not help allowing there was a measure of truth in what he said.
Misrepresentation, however, may arise from two different sources--from
ignorance or from malevolence. When passing through the northern
capital, I myself saw, in some of the best English newspapers,
statements to the effect that Petersburg was then in such a state that
it was penal for anyone to stir out after nine without a certificate;
that no evening party might be given without leave from the police;
that no student might burn the midnight oil; and that a curfew law
forbade a light to be seen in a dwelling after ten: all of which I read
with amazement, for I myself was out as I pleased till past midnight,
and burned a light in packing nearly all the night through. When I
returned to London I said so to the editor of one of the papers, and
found that his statements had been due to wrong information.

But complaint was made not merely of mistakes arising from ignorance or
wrong information. It was urged that false statements were frequently
put forth, and not properly and honorably rectified, when it afterwards
became manifest that they were wrong.[9] I had not up to that time
realized to what an extent this was true; but, after reading various
books and papers for the present work, I cannot but acknowledge that
some of the writers upon Russian affairs do, to put it in the mildest
form, make the most extraordinary statements. Some of these, as I have
said, arise from ignorance, and are pardonable; but others, it is to
be feared, arise from something far worse, which I prefer not to have
to name. What, for instance, will the reader think of the following
extract from an article in the _Sheffield Daily Telegraph_ of December
6th last, which has come to my hand just before going to press?--“The
Russian Government does a regular and an important business with
Sheffield. Our Russophiles will be charmed. The Government of ‘the
Divine figure from the North’ takes from Sheffield five tons per week
of horseflesh. The horses killed for Holy Russia are those which,
through decay or disease, are worthless. The dogs’ meat thus obtained
is bought as food for human beings in Siberia, and, having to travel so
far, it is often in a putrid condition when it arrives there, and in
all its horrible putrescence it is so served out.”

This is remarkable information. The cheapest cost of carriage known
to me from Petersburg to the Siberian _frontier_ is £5 a ton, taking
12 months in transit (no wonder that the meat is putrid!); and if to
this sum be added the cost of the horseflesh and its conveyance from
Sheffield, and salt (for the _Telegraph_ is kind enough to say, on
Dec. 3rd, that the meat is salted, although it becomes putrid!), then
how strange it will seem that the Russian Government should come to
Sheffield to buy meat, when live stock, as I have already stated, can
be purchased in Western Siberia at less than ½_d._ per pound! This,
with a vengeance, is “carrying coal to Newcastle”! But the article
goes on to speak of the prisoners working “in quicksilver-mines, where
the mercury produces an artificial leprosy that rots blood, bones,
and skin”; and then the writer pathetically adds that this “is the
unspeakable fate of thousands of Russians in whom education and a
disposition and temperament naturally brave have aroused thoughts too
deep for tears, and a devoted courage worthy of the Christian martyrs.”
These “martyrs,” moreover, are fed with “flesh swept up from English
knackers’ yards”--that is to say, with horseflesh carried overland
8,000 miles!--I suppose to Nertchinsk, for the writer wisely abstains
from naming the locality of his mines. O wonderful information from
the _Sheffield Daily Telegraph_! Would that I could be informed where
there exists in Siberia a quicksilver-mine at all, that I might hasten
thither if only to clear up this mystery about--Sheffield horseflesh!

To return, however, to serious writing. Is it surprising if Russians
feel annoyed at calumnies so gross? and ought one who knows them to
be so to abstain from giving such statements the lie? Few Englishmen,
one trusts, will be proud to read misstatements like these, and the
exposure of them, it is to be hoped, may lead the unimpassioned to
reflect on such injustice, and to call it by its proper name. For my
own part (humiliating as it is to acknowledge), I have learned to
expect from certain quarters exaggerations and misstatements respecting
Russian affairs. If any complain to me of the character of Russian
diplomacy I reply that I do not defend it. I say nothing of Russians
as politicians, and so long as human nature remains as it is there
will probably not be wanting writers to fan national jealousies and
misgivings to a flame; but no right-minded persons will ever look upon
misstatements like those I have quoted, other than with shame and
disgust. Such misrepresentations carry also their own Nemesis, for the
uninformed, led astray thereby, when they see themselves duped often
espouse the opposite cause. Such unfairness has taught me at least
to sympathize with Russians who are thus misrepresented; and perhaps
I ought to confess that this feeling had something to do with my
resolving to write this book.

It does one an immensity of good sometimes to have to listen calmly
to an opponent, and I was thankful for the plain speaking I heard on
the _Djiguitt_. I am indebted for other similar thoughts to various
writings by Russians, among them to Madame Novikoff’s “Russia and
England--a Protest and an Appeal” (by “O. K.”); all the more forcibly
put because so politely written. I have said in my preface that of
politics I know next to nothing, and it is not in this connection that
I agree or disagree with what that accomplished lady has published;
but I perceive that “O. K.” has found in England what I have found in
Russia--a number of warm and generous friends, between whom one would
desire that only the best of feelings should exist. If Russia were
but better known, a similar feeling would grow, I feel sure, between
Englishmen and Russians generally, and both would be gainers thereby.
There are many who wish to know the truth respecting Siberia, and to
form an unbiassed opinion, and if what I have written should tend in
any degree to this end, I shall be thankful indeed.

On Saturday morning, October 11th, the _Djiguitt_ was creeping along,
without coal and almost without wind, when a five-masted steamer
was seen on the horizon, coming away from Yokohama. “That,” said
the captain, “is your steamer. Shall I ask them if they will take a
passenger?” I quickly decided in the affirmative, packed my luggage,
and embarked in a gig. The commander of the _City of Peking_ did not
stay to read the signals, but, seeing a boat put off from a man-of-war,
concluded that it could be nothing short of an officer with important
dispatches, and came to a standstill, to discover, however, that it was
only to pick up a man “escaped from Siberia.” San Francisco was reached
in sixteen days. From thence I visited the Yo-Semite Valley, Salt Lake
City, Chicago, and Niagara; and then, pushing on to New York, crossed
the Atlantic to Liverpool, and on November 25th re-entered London,
having compassed the world in nearly a straight line of 25,500 miles.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] For the Author’s itinerary round the globe, _see_ Appendix F.

[2] The pay of sailors in the Siberian fleet, afloat and on shore,
per month, is as follows:--Deck sailors, 4_s._; rigging sailors,
4_s._ 4_d._; steersmen and gunners, 4_s._ 9_d._; cooks, firemen,
carpenters, divers, and assistant clerks, 9_s._; quartermaster,
machinists, and head firemen, 15_s._; boatswain’s mate and foreman of
machine room, 18_s._; boatswain and clerks, 54_s._ Some have extras
as perquisites, thus:--Hospital servants, per month, 9_d._; chief
gunners, 1_s._; and torpedo men, 9_s._ The pay of officers, per month,
is as follows:--Midshipmen from £7 10_s._ to £14 14_s._; lieutenants,
£7 10_s._ to £17 10_s._; commander, £13 to £80; captain of second
rank (frigate), £15 10_s._ to £100; and captain of first rank (ship),
£17 4_s._ to £100. Seamen have all found for them. Officers provide
themselves with everything except cabin and furniture, the captain
having one man from the ship’s company for a servant, the higher
officers having one servant for two cabins, and the midshipmen one
servant for four cabins. The mess on the _Djiguitt_ cost each officer
about £6 a month, including holiday wines, and entertainment to guests
in port. The officers gave an entertainment before leaving Vladivostock.

[3] The method of Russian conscription is as follows:--The empire is
divided into districts, each of which has annually to send a number of
men according to the requirements of the Government. Lots are drawn
from the men of 21 years of age, and those thus taken are examined as
to size of chest, eyes, ears, teeth, pulling force and general health;
and the faulty ones rejected. If sound, they have to serve seven,
three, two, one, or half a year, according to their education; after
which they pass into the first reserve. Those who escape the lot fall
at once into the first reserve. They may then marry; and, if following
certain callings, are free from further conscription, and in any case
are liable to be drawn again only in time of war or emergency. At 28
these escaped ones fall into the second reserve, which is called up
only in case of home invasion. There are besides for those upon whom
the lot falls several exemptions, by reason of which they are either
free or their service may be postponed.

[4] The clothing served out to the men was similar in character to
that of the soldiers already referred to, with the following yearly
additions: a flannel shirt and two blue flannel jerseys, two pairs
white shoes, two pairs white trousers, and three white shirts with
collars, also five yards of towelling and two white cap-covers for
hot climates. There is allowed them also 1_s._ for ribbons, 4_s._ for
bed-linen, 1_s._ for spoon and knife, and the quartermaster 4_s._ for
whistles. The machinists and firemen have each a further addition of
two pairs of shoes and a black canvas coat.

With regard to work, Russian sailors usually lift half-a-ton a day. In
harbour they work eight hours, and on shore 12 hours, with two hours
for rest. On the _Djiguitt_ the men rose soon after five, breakfasted,
stowed away hammocks, washed the decks and got all clean before 8
o’clock. They then worked till 11, at which hour they dined and
rested till 2; then worked again till 5.30, supped, and at 7 retired;
but this programme varies, of course, according to time, place, and
circumstances. The watches for the men were divided into two of six
hours each by day, and three of four hours each by night; but the
officers took in rotation five watches of four hours each.

[5] I met at Vladivostock the officer who had to do with the legal
affairs of the Siberian fleet, acting as judge (aided by three or four
others), but whose sentences had to be approved by the admiral.

[6] The form to be filled up for a patient was something to this
effect:--Name of patient, To what duty assigned, Number of his ship at
Cronstadt, Age, How long in service, From what province, How often in
hospital before, How often ill on board before, Name of disease, When
taken ill, When cured or died, How many days ill; and beneath this was
a form for showing diagnosis of the disease, heat of body, internal and
external treatment, and food. A monthly report also had to be forwarded
by the medical officer to Petersburg.

[7] Each ship has, I believe, its particular ikon, as I found at Kara
was the case with each company of Cossacks, who carry the picture in a
special carriage. Some of the ikons that have accompanied Tsars to the
battlefield are treasured very highly in Russia. Private individuals,
when travelling, frequently carry with them ikons, before which in
their lodging they light lamps, as I saw in the case of a merchant at
Tomsk.

[8] The religious professions of the seamen (excluding officers) in the
Russian fleet I gathered from the Naval Almanack for April, 1879, to be
as follows:--

BALTIC. BLACK.
| Afloat.|Ashore.|Afloat.|Ashore.|
Orthodox Russian Ch. | 16,669 | 289 | 4,729 | 31 |
Gregorians | | | 1 | |
Protestants | 759 | 16 | 8 | 7 |
Roman Catholics | 51 | 8 | 13 | |
Jews | | | | |
Mohammedans | 47 | | 5 | |
Sects {Molokans | | | | |
{Pomorski | | | | |
Pagans | | | | |
| ------ | ---- | ----- | ---- |
| 17,526 | 313 | 4,756 | 38 |
\-------v------/ \------v------/
17,839 4,794

CASPIAN. ARAL. SIBERIAN. TOTAL.
|Afloat.|Afloat.|Afloat.|Ashore.|
Orthodox Russian Ch. | 1,281 | 291 | 2,028 | 308 | 25,626
Gregorians | 3 | | | | 4
Protestants | | 8 | 7 | 3 | 808
Roman Catholics | 1 | 9 | 3 | | 85
Jews | | | 2 | | 2
Mohammedans | 43 | 19 | 4 | 1 | 119
Sects {Molokans | 3 | | | | 3
{Pomorski | 3 | | | | 3
Pagans | | 3 | | | 3
| ----- | ---- | ----- | ----- | -------
| 1,334 | 330 | 2,044 | 312 | 26,653
\--v--/ \--v--/ \------v------/ \---v---/
1,334 330 2,356 26,653

[9] As a flagrant instance, they complained of the falseness of the
_Daily Telegraph_, respecting the carriage of convicts by the _Nijni
Novgorod_, to which I have alluded in my first volume (page 45). I
learn from the same paper of November 16th, 1881, that the Russians
have been further annoyed by some untrue statements published by the
_Daily Telegraph_ on June 28th of this year, concerning “judicial
and administrative abuses in Russia.” These misrepresentations were
copied by other papers, from which Mr. Tallack, compiling his report
for the Howard Association, and falling into the pit, reproduced
the matter thus: “Yet even an Imperial commissioner has recently
reported atrocious cruelties to prisoners in Central Russia, including
the torture of women with red-hot tongs; the killing of numbers by
imprisoning them in dark dungeons; other prisoners reduced to almost
naked skeleton figures in hideous caverns; inhuman floggings, 125
lashes being inflicted even for addressing warders in the old peasant
style of ‘thou’ instead of ‘you’; and other brutalities.” When I read
these charges I felt sure they were untrue, but as I had not visited
the prisons of Orenburg, where the atrocities were alleged to have
occurred, all I could say was that I had seen prisons nearly all over
Russia, and had witnessed nothing answering to such abominations. I
ventured, however, to write to the editor of the _Daily Telegraph_
for information respecting the Russian paper, the _Sjeverny Viestnik_
(suppressed, I have since learnt, at least three years ago), from which
the statements were said to have come, and I received a polite reply
that the writer of the article was travelling in Russia. I then wrote
to Mr. Tallack, who inquired concerning the matter of Mr. Kokovtzeff,
one of three inspectors-general of prisons, who denied the truth of
what had appeared. Accordingly Mr. Tallack (whose zeal in the cause of
prison reform is well known), finding that he had been deceived, wrote
to the _Daily Telegraph_ to say so; but I was sorry to see that, though
this paper had given a whole column in bold type to the misstatements,
which had been multiplied therefrom by hundreds of thousands, yet all
the space they could spare for contradiction was 15 lines in very small
type!

GRATIAS DEO.

APPENDIX A.

THE HISTORY OF THE RUSSIAN CHURCH.

(_From page 162._)

The history of the Russian Church may be treated under the four periods
of its foundation, consolidation, transition, and reformation. Its
foundation period extends from the end of the tenth century to the
beginning of the fourteenth. In the year 957 a Russian princess,
named Olga, visited Constantinople, was baptized, and returned with
the Christian name of Helena. About thirty years afterwards there
came to her grandson, Vladimir, envoys from the different religious
communities of the known world,--from the Mussulmans, the Pope, the
Jews, the Greeks,--inviting him to adopt their respective creeds. To
these he replied by sending elders and nobles to examine their various
religions; and shortly afterwards, in 988, he was baptized and joined
the Greek Church. Vladimir then gave orders for a wholesale baptism of
his docile subjects at Kieff. A church was built there, and the work of
conversion advanced rapidly. The Holy Scriptures had been translated
into Sclavonic a century before for the nations on the Danube; so that
the Greek priests, on going to Russia, had this powerful lever ready to
hand in the language of the people.

The period of the _consolidation_ of the Russian Church dates
from the beginning of the fourteenth century to the middle of the
seventeenth, during which time the local centre of ecclesiastical
history was transferred from Kieff to Moscow, and three great powers
came prominently forward--the Tsars, the Metropolitans, and the
Monks. The Tsar, in his ecclesiastical position, represented the
laity of the Church, and received the unbounded veneration of the
people; and the Metropolitans, second only to the Tsar, almost without
exception supported the authority of the Sovereign. In the middle of
the fifteenth century the Metropolitans became independent of the See
of Constantinople; and in 1589, Job, the Metropolitan of Moscow, was
elevated to the dignity of a patriarch. Again, the hermits and monks
acquired an immense influence. In 1338 was founded the famous Troitza
monastery--a seminary, cathedral, church, and fortress all in one--the
monks and clergy of which have more than once taken an active part in
the deliverance of their country from the Tatars and Poles.

The _transition_ period of the Russian Church extends from the middle
of the seventeenth to the beginning of the eighteenth centuries,
during which time lived Nikon, the famous Patriarch of Moscow. He has
been called a Russian Chrysostom, a Russian Luther, a Russian Wolsey.
Ivan the Terrible, in his own savage way, had done something towards
rectifying the abuses of the Church. The Patriarch did more; he took
in hand the Russian hierarchy, whom he found idle and drunken. He
set them a good example, on one hand, by founding hospitals, feeding
the hungry, visiting prisons, and, above all, after the silence of
many centuries, by preaching; but, on the other hand, he administered
clerical discipline with uncommon severity. He was perpetually sending
his officers round the city, with orders that, if they found priest
or monk in a state of intoxication, they were to imprison, strip, and
scourge him; and numbers of dissolute clergy he banished to Siberia.
His name, however, is chiefly remembered by reason of his innovations,
or perhaps resuscitation of forgotten details in ritual. Finding that
copyists’ errors had crept into the service books, which were in
manuscript, he sent deputations to Mount Athos, and throughout the
Eastern Churches, for correct copies, put the printing press to work to
circulate new rubrics, and set on foot a work of revision, which met
with frantic opposition on the part of the ignorant among the people,
and was ultimately made the occasion of the secession of a large part
of what are now known as the Russian _raskolniks_, or dissenters.

The fourth period, which has been called--though, alas! in only a
very limited sense--the _reformation_ of the Russian Church, extends
from the time of Peter the Great to our own day. The patriarchate had
attained to a position of great power, and the great Peter was not
the man to brook such a rival as Nikon had been to his father Alexis;
accordingly, on the death of the Patriarch Adrian, in 1700, his chair
was allowed to remain vacant for twenty years, at the end of which
time Peter abolished the patriarchate and appointed a synod. He also
carried out many reforms and improvements, which he had the good sense
to see were sorely needed. He established schools for the children of
the clergy, abolished anchorites, reformed the monasteries, and issued
regulations enjoining bishops to read the Scriptures carefully, and not
to be absent from their dioceses without permission of the synod. Many
of his changes, however, excited great dissatisfaction. The measures of
Nikon had sadly perturbed the orthodox Russians; those of Peter drove
them to desperation and to further schism. Among the charges brought
against the Tsar were such as these: that he had introduced into the
churches pictures by Western artists; and this was said to be a mortal
sin. Besides this, at the opening of the eighteenth century, Peter
changed the calendar, gave his people the 1st of January for their
New Year’s Day, and began to reckon the year from the birth of Christ
instead of from the creation of the world. This, among other like
things, was regarded as the very sign of Antichrist, inasmuch as he was
“to change times and laws”; and Peter the Great is still designated
Antichrist by a large proportion of the Russian dissenters. Since the
time of the great reformer the Russian Church has gone on very much as
he left it, the few minor reforms introduced by the Emperors Alexander
the First and Second being in the right direction.

APPENDIX B.

THE DOCTRINES OF THE RUSSIAN, ROMAN, AND ENGLISH CHURCHES.

(_From page 163._)

The doctrines of the Russian Church are not set forth in any one
public document like the “Thirty-Nine Articles of Religion,” but must
be sought in its creeds, councils, Church services, and catechisms.
Generally speaking, it may be said that the Bible and tradition form
the Russian rule of faith, and excommunication is the penalty of
heterodoxy. The Nicene Creed we know the Russians receive, with the
exception of the clause relating to the procession of the Holy Ghost
from the Son; and the Athanasian Creed finds a place in their Church
books, though it is not read in the public services. There are likewise
certain works by eminent Russian divines which have been promulgated or
received with more or less authority by councils or the general consent
of the Eastern Church. Such are the treatise of St. John Damascene
on the Orthodox Faith; the Answers of the Patriarch Jeremiah to the
Lutherans, 1574-1581; Peter Mogila’s Orthodox Confession of Faith of
the Catholic and Apostolic Church of the East, 1643-1662; the Eighteen
Articles of the Synod of Bethlehem, 1672; and the Orthodox Doctrine
of Platon, 1762. We get a better insight, however, into the doctrines
of the Russian Church, as they are taught in the present day, from
Mr. Blackmore’s translation of the Russian Primer, the Catechisms,
and the Treatise on the Duty of Parish Priests--a perusal of which
last seems to me to bring the Russian Church nearer to the English,
and further from the Roman, than is generally supposed. Some idea of
the divergences of the three Churches will be obtained by briefly
enumerating their differences, thus:--

1. The principal differences between the Russian and English Church are
upon--

(1) The number of the Œcumenical Councils.
(2) The number of the sacraments.
(3) Confirmation by priests.
(4) Marriage of clergy after ordination.
(5) Consecration of married priests to the episcopate.
(6) Transubstantiation.
(7) Invocation of saints.
(8) Reverence to sacred pictures and relics.
(9) Prayer for the faithful departed.
(10) The procession of the Holy Ghost.

2. The differences between the Russian and English Churches on one
side, and the Roman on the other, are upon--

(1) Papal supremacy.
(2) Purgatory.
(3) Communion in one kind.
(4) Celibacy of priests and deacons.
(5) Indulgences.
(6) Works of supererogation.
(7) Judicial absolution.
(8) The doctrine of intention in priestly acts.
(9) The Apocrypha.
(10) Service in an unknown tongue.
(11) Withdrawal of the Scriptures from the laity.
(12) Use of unleavened bread in the Eucharist.
(13) The immaculate conception of the Virgin Mary.
(14) Papal infallibility.

3. Once more, the differences between the English Church and the
Russian and Roman combined are upon--

(1) The number of the sacraments.
(2) Married bishops.
(3) Invocation of saints.
(4) Reverence of pictures and relics.
(5) Prayer for the faithful departed.
(6) Compulsory confession.

These are some of the principal differences between the three branches
of the Catholic Church, besides which there are others connected with
usage and ritual.

APPENDIX C.

THE SCHISMS OF THE RUSSIAN CHURCH.

(_From page 163._)

It cannot be denied that there is a very considerable amount of
toleration of foreign religions in the Russian Empire. The Tsar does
not emulate the Roman Pontiff, who, as long as he could prevent it,
which was up to about 12 years ago, would not allow a Protestant
place of worship to be built within the walls of his capital. On the
contrary, at the fair of Nijni Novgorod, the Mohammedan mosque and the
Armenian church stand side by side with the orthodox cathedral, and
I am not sure that I did not see in the Chinese quarter a Buddhist
temple. Notwithstanding all this, however, the religious toleration of
the Tsar is of a somewhat one-sided character. A man is usually left
in peace to practise the religion in which he was born, so long as he
does not try to proselytize. Again, should an English Churchman, or any
one else living in Russia, be convinced that the Greek Church is more
scriptural and catholic than his own, the Greek Church will receive him
into her communion. But not _vice versâ_. On the contrary, should a
Russian Churchman living in Russia be convinced that the English Church
is more scriptural and catholic than his own, and should he attempt to
carry out his convictions, he would thereby render himself liable, I
believe, to expatriation, confiscation of property, and other pains and
penalties too dreadful to mention; and to receive the convert into the
English Church would be more than the Chaplain at Petersburg or Moscow
dare do. Again, in mixed marriages--that is, when either father _or_
mother is “orthodox”--the children _must_ be orthodox, and follow the
religion of the State. Russians abroad sometimes change their religious
profession, in which case they remain Russian subjects, but are not
permitted to return to their country unless they recant.

The matter therefore stands thus, that whilst the Russian Church is
ready to receive from all, she gives to none--that is, if she can
help it. Consequently, what she will not give, there are some who
choose to take. The rich, who are possessed of broad acres, be they
ever so convinced that some of the doctrines of the Greek Church are
unscriptural and uncatholic, naturally think twice before they render
their estates liable to confiscation. But there are others, who have
less to lose, for whom confiscation has no such terrors; or, if it has,
dare to face them, and bid the law do its worst.

Persecution, however, such as we have known in England, has never
been a characteristic of the Church of Russia. I do not mean that
her repressive measures have never taken a form which can with
difficulty be distinguished from persecution. But she has never had
an Inquisition; neither Petersburg nor Moscow has a Smithfield; and
the plains of Russia have never heard such cries as once resounded
through the valleys of Piedmont. On the whole, I am disposed to think
that, in religious matters at all events, the hug of the bear is not so
bad as might be expected from his growl; and that the powers that be,
when they see a religious point cannot be carried, meet the difficulty
half-way.

I left Siberia in a Russian man-of-war, and heard a story that will
illustrate this. Formerly the law obtained in the Russian navy that
all the seamen should have shaven chins. Now, at the Council of Moscow
in the seventeenth century, to shave the beard was pronounced “a sin
which even the blood of martyrs could not expiate”; and some of the
Russian dissenters still believe that to cut the hair or the beard is
altogether unscriptural and unorthodox. Accordingly, one fine day two
recruits appeared in the navy with flowing beards. They were ordered
to cut them off, but they obstinately refused. Their insubordination
was reported to higher quarters, and an order was returned that the
men must shave or be shaved. The men still refused, and in consequence
were shaved, to the saving of their consciences, but the loss of their
beards. But nature gave them new ones, and the difficulty came up
again, the men once more refusing to obey orders. Their obstinacy was
again reported, this time to very high authorities--to one of the Grand
Dukes, if not to the Emperor himself--when it occurred to one of them,
in his wisdom, to ask _why_ these men should be made to shave; and, no
satisfactory answer being forthcoming, another question followed--why
should _any_ of the men be made to shave? and shortly there went forth
a regulation that, throughout the whole of the navy, men should be left
to do as they liked with their beards. So in many things respecting
religion: when the Government of the present day cannot carry a point,
they not unfrequently give it up, or cease what looks like active
persecution.

The Russians have, however, certain fanatical sects to deal with,
whose tenets are so outrageous that no enlightened Government could
do otherwise than try to repress them. Some of their ideas are
sufficiently ludicrous. “Cursed be the man,” said one of these people
to an acquaintance of mine--“Cursed be the man who presumes to pray to
God in a pair of trousers!” from which, I suppose, we are to infer that
in public worship these individuals think it right to divest themselves
of their nether garments. I am not aware, however, that persons such as
these are persecuted. Among the fanatical sects also are the Scoptsi,
some of whom are banished to a village on the Yenesei. There are
certain sectarians also who have no settled home, but wander about as
strangers and pilgrims. We met some of them in the Siberian wilds.
The great mass, however, of the Raskolniks, or Russian dissenters,
estimated at eight millions in number, are very different from those I
have mentioned.

When, in the seventeenth century, the Patriarch Nikon began to have
the Church books revised and corrected, he met with fierce opposition.
He was charged with interpolating instead of correcting the books, and
nothing would persuade many of the ignorant people to the contrary.
Many thus became unsettled and broke away--not, they would say,
because they were leaving the Church, but because the Church, with
its new-fangled notions, was leaving them. Then when, in addition to
Nikon’s changes, Peter the Great introduced others, things were looked
upon as becoming worse than ever. There was, accordingly, a large
section of the most ultra-Conservative Russians, both of priests and
people, who clung to old books, old pictures, and old ways, under the
impression that thus only could they worship God according to the
customs of their forefathers; and it is from these secessionists that
the great mass of the _Staroveri_, or Old Believers, are descended. We
heard, at Tiumen, that some are very strict in their habits of living;
that, for instance, they will not drink tea or wine, and will not drink
out of the same vessel with one who is not of their sect. The Staroveri
are split into two principal parties. They had a bishop with them at
the time of their secession, and he ordained many priests; but as these
priests died they asked, How shall we fill their places? They had no
second bishop to ordain more. Some decided that they would do without
priests, and these are called _Bezpopoftschins_, or priestless. The
others for a time got priests from the Established Church as best they
could, but eventually came to a compromise with the Government, and,
by certain concessions made to them, saved their scruples and obtained
their priests. These are called _Popoftschins_. The differences,
however, between both parties on the one side, and the Established
Church on the other, were not questions of doctrine, but such points
as these: the Starovers gave the benediction holding up two fingers,
the established clergy holding up three, which latter practice was
regarded by the Old Believers as a mortal sin. The Starovers’ form of
the cross had three transverse beams, instead of the Russian two or the
Latin one. Again, to say the name of Jesus in two syllables instead of
three (as in Greek) was condemned by the Starovers, as was also the
repetition of the hallelujah in the service thrice instead of twice. It
became also an alarming innovation to read or write, for ecclesiastical
purposes, a word in modern Russ. I had a reminder of this in 1878 on
the Dwina, where Old Believers exist, for I sometimes found my tracts
objected to because not printed in Sclavonic.

But there are many among the Raskolniks of Russia who dissent from
the Established Church on points less diminutive than those of the
Starovers; as the _Dukhobortsi_, or “wrestlers with the Spirit,” who
spiritualize to a high degree both doctrines and sacraments. Also they
reject pictures, do not cross themselves, nor observe the appointed
fasts. In their meetings they pray for one another, sing psalms, and
explain the Word of God. They call themselves “Christians,” and their
great dogma is to worship God in spirit and in truth. They have no
magistrates, but govern their own society; they practise brotherly
love, have all things common, and are remarkable for the orderly and
cleanly manner in which they live. An officer whom I met last year in
the Caucasus spoke to me in the highest terms of their blameless lives.

There are many other sects of the Russian Church, many followers of
which are found in Siberia, either because banished or born there, or
having migrated by their own choice for the sake of greater liberty.
Not the least interesting among them are the _Molokans_, some of whom I
found on the Amur, and others more recently in the Trans-Caucasus.

APPENDIX D.

THE DISCOVERIES OF WIGGINS AND NORDENSKIÖLD.

(_From page 196._)

From various papers in the Proceedings of the Society for the Promotion
of Marine Enterprise and Trade in Russia, together with information
gathered by Mr. Oswald Cattley, it seems that Mr. M. K. Sidoroff of
Petersburg was the agitator, and, in a certain sense, the originator,
in modern times, of sea-trading adventure in the north of the Russian
empire. He was largely interested in gold-mining in the Yenesei, and
his efforts to open up marine communication with the north date from
1841. In 1860, thanks to his enterprise, the first foreign vessel
entered the Bay of Petchora. At the Universal Exhibition of 1862, in
London, Mr. Sidoroff exhibited, and obtained two medals for, products
from the Turukhansk district--graphite, skins, coal, salt, mammoth
tusks, etc.--all of which he presented to the South Kensington Museum.
In 1867 he began agitating the possibility of communicating with Europe
by sea _viâ_ the Yenesei and Obi rivers and the Arctic Ocean. In 1868
he communicated with the Norwegian whalers, and at his initiative
Captains Foyne, Carlsen, and others ventured into the Kara Sea, but
none reached to the mouth of either of the two great rivers. This
success was to be reaped by Captain Wiggins, of Sunderland, who fitted
out, at his own expense, a small steamer, the _Diana_, in which he
reached the mouth of the Obi in 1874. He was resolved upon repeating
the voyage in 1875, and to that end invited capitalists to assist him
in organizing a trade between Siberia and England. These overtures were
not successful to any considerable extent, though two gentlemen came
forward with subscriptions in Sunderland, and the captain added more
from his own means; but the whole amounted to less than was needed
for efficient operations. Determined, however, not to be baffled,
Wiggins purchased a small cutter, the _Whim_, that might have been
put in a good-sized drawing-room (it was only 45 feet long, and of
27 tons register!), and in _that_ he sailed direct for the Kara Sea.
The weather was adverse, and he was compelled to return in the autumn
of 1875. Another explorer, however, had followed suit, for Professor
Nordenskiöld, seeing what Wiggins had done in 1874, took the same track
in 1875, and reached the mouth of the Yenesei. Thence he sent back his
walrus sloop to Hammerfest, ascended the river, and returned overland
to Petersburg.

Captain Wiggins was now asked to meet his brother explorer,
Nordenskiöld, at Petersburg, where they both addressed crowded
audiences; after which the Russian merchants offered subscriptions
towards the equipment of another expedition, under the command of
Captain Wiggins, who was to return at once to England and secure a
steamer suitable to the work. But jealousy of a “foreign element”
subsequently seized some of the Russian merchants, and they desired
that a Russian naval officer should head the expedition--in other
words, that Captain Wiggins should be pilot, which he declined. Many
of the Russian subscriptions were in consequence withheld, but not
that of Mr. Sibiriakoff, who placed his money in the hands of the
editor of the _Times_. This money, with the assistance furnished by Mr.
Gardiner, of Goring, enabled Wiggins to attempt a third voyage, and
he now purchased the screw-steamer _Thames_--doing so, however, under
protest, for she was not the vessel he ought to have had. In this, in
1876, he started for the mouth of the Obi, and reached it; but, owing
to the unsuitability of his ship, he could not ascend the river. He
lay, therefore, in the Baidaratsky Gulf of the Kara Sea, employing
himself usefully in making nautical surveys, dredging, etc. He then
directed his course to the Yenesei, entered the river, and reached
the village of Dudinsk, about 400 miles from the ocean. Here he was
informed that the nearest port or river of safety was the Kureika. I
have since been told, by one in Siberia, that this was a mistake, the
river not being a suitable place for winter quarters. But the captain
proceeded without chart, without pilot; time was of importance; and he
had not got his steamer into the Kureika more than two or three days
before the ice formed, and she was locked up for eight months. This had
been anticipated; and the captain now returned overland, post-haste to
London, which he reached in January 1877.

Meanwhile Professor Nordenskiöld had also been following up his
discoveries, in proceeding again to the Yenesei, in 1876, with an
object mostly, but not entirely, scientific. It was arranged that his
expedition, consisting of Swedish geologists, botanists, zoologists,
and men of science, should be divided into two parties; one going with
the Professor, in the steamship _Ymar_, through the Kara Sea, was to
enter the mouth of the river and ascend to Mesenkin; whilst the other
party, under the direction of M. Théel, was to proceed overland to
Krasnoiarsk, and then descend the river to meet their comrades. The
Professor ascended to Mesenkin, but M. Théel could not get so far. The
two parties therefore failed to effect a meeting; but they added much
valuable information to what had been hitherto known of the natural
history of the Yenesei, and which was printed in two reports--the one
from Professor Nordenskiöld, and the other from M. Théel, addressed to
Messrs. Oscar Dickson, of Gothenburg, and Alexander Sibiriakoff, at
whose joint expense the expedition had been sent.

In the spring of 1877 Wiggins went overland from England through
Siberia, and down the Yenesei to the _Thames_, intending to steam back
to Europe. But the vessel was damaged by the breaking-up of the ice,
and became a wreck; and Wiggins was once more compelled to return by
land. He had been accompanied on the outward journey by Mr. Henry
Seebohm, who proceeded to the Yenesei to study its ornithology, and who
has since published some of the results of his researches, as well as
a book called “Siberia in Europe,” on the ornithology of North-eastern
Russia and part of Siberia. Besides these travellers and their
journeys, there have been several voyages undertaken, with a view to
bring Siberia into maritime contact with Europe. The _Newcastle Daily
Chronicle_ for November 28th, 1878, records several voyages as having
been made up to that time, with more or less success; and thus from the
years 1875 to 1878 we learnt more than had ever been previously known
of these two ancient rivers, the Obi and the Yenesei--to which latter,
another vessel has made its way during the present year.

That Western Siberia is capable of being made to play an important
part in the supply of European markets seems certain. The country
possesses immense stores of minerals, from gold down to excellent
coal, and agricultural produce both of fibre and cereals, the latter
including wheat, to be purchased at from 12 to 15 shillings per
quarter, first hand, which in England commands from 45 to 50 shillings.
A thousand miles of land between the Tobol and the Obi is capable of
producing an almost unlimited supply of wheat, oats, barley, rye, hay,
linseed, flax, and hemp; and to these might be added for export, to
be purchased very cheaply, hides, tallow, wool, and other products.
Already, on the rivers of the Obi system alone, there are no less
than 46 passenger and tug steamers plying annually, and ranging from
30 up to 120 horse-power. If, then, two central warehouses could be
established, at, say, Tiumen and Tomsk, it would be easy from thence
to purchase and carry produce to the mouth of the Obi. The difficult
part of the navigation lies between the mouth of the Obi and the Kara
or the Waigatz Straits, west of the Kara Sea; and what is required is
a powerful steamer, adapted for working among ice if needed, to ply
between the Obi Gulf and a depôt, say, on Waigatz Island, or even at
the North Cape, whence ordinary vessels could bring the produce away.
The ice steamer might then, in her last voyage for the season, return
with foreign merchandise, to be sold at the establishments in the
interior, and, in February, at the annual fair of Irbit where merchants
congregate from all parts of Siberia. Mr. Seebohm goes so far as to
say that, could the talked-of canal be formed from the Obi Gulf across
the Yamal peninsula, it might prove almost as important as that across
the Isthmus of Suez. Captain Wiggins thinks the canal impracticable,
but is sanguine as to the possibilities of trade on the Obi; and it
has been computed by Mr. Oswald Cattley that with a strong steamer, a
tug, six barges, and a couple of lighters, there might be exported from
Siberia, in a single navigation season, 6,000 tons of wheat; but, of
course, this would involve the outlay of considerable capital, and the
location of responsible agents in the country.

APPENDIX E.

THE EARLY EXPLORATION OF SIBERIA BY SEA AND LAND.

The north-east passage to China was attempted as far back as the
16th century, after the discovery of America had given such zest to
geographical exploration. Willoughby, Chancellor, and Burroughs started
on a route indicated to them by Sebastian Cabot, but with the result
that Willoughby perished in 1554; Chancellor landed in the White Sea
and laid the foundation of Anglo-Russian commerce; and Burroughs was
stopped before entering the Kara Sea. Thinking that China might,
perhaps, be reached by way of the Obi gulf, thence up the river, and by
a fabulous lake of Kitaï (or China) marked upon the map of Herberstein,
the English renewed their efforts. In 1580 two English ships, commanded
by Pet and Jackman, sailed towards the Russian Polar Seas, their
navigators being counselled by Hakluyt and Mercator, the foremost
geographers of their day; but both were baffled by the ice of the Kara
Sea. The Dutch were not more fortunate, and in the three voyages, in
which the illustrious Barentz took part, 1594-1597, no progress was
effected beyond the Seas of Spitzbergen and Nova Zembla. In 1608, the
Dutch Hendrick Hudson, sailing in the English service, endeavoured but
in vain to pass the limits where his predecessors had been stopped, and
after his name should be mentioned those of Wood and Flawes, bringing
us to 1676. There was subsequently a lull in the efforts made by the
navigators of Western Europe for two centuries, and then we have the
voyage in the _Tegetthoff_, under Payer and Weyprecht. The fishermen
and Russian merchants from the White Sea, however, knew perfectly the
route to the gulfs of the Obi and Yenesei. Of this there is proof in
the map of Boris Godunof in the year 1600, although it is true that
to travel by this route was forbidden sixteen years later under pain
of death, lest the Russians should pilot foreigners to the coasts of
Siberia.

Cut off thus by a frozen sea, the sailing of which was considered by
the navigators and geographers of Western Europe an impossibility,
the exploration of the North Siberian littoral could go on only from
Siberia itself, which was done by means of river craft. In 1648,
the Cossack Dejnev, leaving the mouth of the Kolima in command of a
little fleet of seven boats, had succeeded in rounding the extreme
northern point of Asia, and in clearing, long before Behring was
born, the strait which bears the name of that navigator. Stadoukhin
also traversed the seas of Eastern Siberia, looking for islands
covered with fossil ivory, of which the natives had told him. In 1735
Prontchichtchev and Lasinius descended the Lena to examine its delta
and coast along to the east and west. The former proceeded round Cape
Cheliuskin (so named after his pilot), but did not reach the Yenesei
Gulf, and the expedition brought back their leader’s corpse. Again, an
expedition set out in 1739 under Laptev, and, after being shipwrecked,
crossed overland the most northern cape of the Old World, and explored
the Taimur peninsula. The littoral between the estuaries of the Obi and
Yenesei was discovered two years previously by Ovtzin and Minin.

Navigation towards the Siberian Sea had already commenced, however, by
way of the Pacific. In 1728 Behring, a Dane in the Russian service,
crossed Siberia by land, and, embarking on the Pacific, penetrated the
famous straits which bear his name, and it was through him that the
geographers of Western Europe learned the existence of this passage,
already known for eighty years to the Siberian Cossacks; but the
archives of Yakutsk had so closely kept the secret that the great Peter
himself did not know it when he charged Behring to go and explore the
coasts of Eastern Siberia.

The explorations of Cook, in 1778, confirmed the points laid down by
Behring, and added much to our knowledge of these north-eastern waters.
After the voyage of Cook, only the seas about Sakhalin, Yesso, and the
Kuriles remained to be explored. La Perouse laid down the first tracing
of the islands and the shores of the continent, and he recognized the
insular character of Sakhalin and the existence of a passage uniting
the seas of Japan and Okhotsk.

Thus all the coast lines of Siberia were mapped out as to their
principal features, and there matters remained until, at the instance
of Mr. Sidoroff, in 1868, some Norwegian whalers ventured to the Kara
Sea, which, however, was not successfully navigated, I believe, by an
_ocean_ craft till 1874, when Captain Wiggins accomplished it by steam.
He reached the gulf of the Obi, and would willingly have steamed on to
“the land of Kitaï,” but he was unsupported by such enterprise as sent
out Willoughby, Chancellor, and Burroughs, and the rose was honorably
snatched from the Englishman’s hand by Nordenskiöld, the Swedo-Finn,
whose voyage may, in a manner, be said to have closed the maritime
discovery of Siberia.

The scientific exploration of this vast country by land can hardly
be said to have commenced till the 18th century, with Messerschmidt.
Some years later, Gmelin, Müller, and Delisle de la Croyère, during
an absence of nine years, from 1733 to 1742, recorded valuable
observations on the physical geography of the country. In those days,
however, the Russian Government regarded with considerable jealousy
the publication of documents relative to the resources of the empire.
Pallas travelled over Siberia to the Baikal and beyond, with several
scientists, and brought back much valuable information, especially
concerning geology and natural history. Scientific travels in Siberia
were then suspended till after the political events of 1815. In
1828 the Norwegian Hansteen, accompanied by Erman, went on those
travels which proved of such importance to the study of terrestrial
magnetism, whilst Erman’s astronomical determinations were of great
use in correcting the maps which hitherto had been only approximately
correct. Humboldt went to Siberia when Hansteen and Erman were there;
and though his visit, by reason of its shortness, was not very fruitful
in observations, it proved important in the history of science, because
he brought back documents which proved valuable for his work on Central
Asia. The explorations of Middendorf in Northern and Eastern Siberia
had considerable importance, and in 1854 Schwartz, Schmidt, Glehn,
Usoltzoff, and their companions made a remarkable expedition, which
explored the immense region stretching from the Za-Baikal to the Lena,
including the northern affluents of the Amur.

These are some of the prominent names connected with the scientific
exploration of Siberia in general. Several specialists also have pushed
their way to various parts of the country--Castrén the philologist
to the Samoyede country, 1842-3; Maack, Venyukoff, and Radde, to the
Amur and Ussuri, 1854-9; Müller and Czekanovski to the country of the
Chukchees, 1869-70, and to the Yenesei in 1873-4. Two years later
Seebohm, the ornithologist, descended the Yenesei, as also did the
Swedish expedition under Professor Théil; and in the same year Finsch,
Brehm, and Zeil explored the basin of the Irtish and Obi. For the names
of other travellers in Northern Asia the reader is referred to the
Bibliography of Siberia, and list of works consulted, in the following
appendix.

* * * * *

P.S.--This appendix was written before the publication of “The Voyage
of the _Vega_ round Asia and Europe, with an Historical Review of
Previous Voyages along the North Coast of the Old World. By A. E.
Nordenskiöld,” whose book will doubtless be regarded as a standard
work, and to it, accordingly, the reader is referred for fuller
information on the maritime coast of Siberia.

APPENDIX F.

THE AUTHOR’S ITINERARY ROUND THE WORLD.

The following shows the dates of the Author’s arrivals and departures,
with distances in miles travelled by rail, water, and road, together
with the number of post-horses employed:--

DATES. | PLACES. | RAIL. | WATER. | ROAD. | HORSES.
| | | | |
April 30 | London to Petersburg | 1,683 | 23 | |
to May 3 | | | | |
| | | | |
May 12 | Petersburg to Moscow | 402 | | |
to May 13 | | | | |
| | | | |
May 16 | Nijni Novgorod to Kasan | | 266 | |
to May 17 | | | | |
| | | | |
May 19 | Kasan to Perm | | 686 | |
to May 22 | | | | |
| | | | |
May 22 | Perm to | 312 | | |
to May 24 | Ekaterineburg | | | |
| | | | |
May 27 | Ekaterineburg to Tiumen | | | 204 | 74
to May 29 | | | | |
| | | | |
May 30 | Tiumen to Tobolsk | | | 172 | 65
to June 1 | | | | |
| | | | |
June 3 | Tobolsk to Tomsk | | 1,601 | |
to June 10 | | | | |
| | | | |
June 12 | Tomsk to Barnaul | | | 238 | 51
to June 15 | | | | |
| | | | |
June 16 | Barnaul to Tomsk | | | 238 | 51
to June 18 | | | | |
| | | | |
June 19 | Tomsk to Krasnoiarsk | | | 369 | 165
to June 24 | | | | |
| | | | |
June 26 | Krasnoiarsk to | | | 24 |
to June 27 | Gold-mine and back | | | |
| | | | |
June 27 | Krasnoiarsk to Irkutsk | | | 671 | 267
to July 6 | | | | |
| | | | |
July 4 | Telma to Alexandreffsky | | | 32 |
to July 5 | and back | | | |
| | | | |
July 10 | Irkutsk to Kiakhta | | | 312 | 80
to July 14 | | | | |
| | | | |
July 15 | Kiakhta to Cheelantoui | | | 54 |
| and back | | | |
| | | | |
July 16 | Kiakhta to | | | 148 | 35
to July 18 | Verchne-Udinsk | | | |
| | | | |
July 18 | Verchne-Udinsk to Chita | | | 294 | 112
to July 21 | | | | |
| | | | |
July 21 | Chita to Stretinsk | | | 242 | 78
to July 24 | | | | |
| | | | |
July 24 | Stretinsk to Khabarofka | | 1,345 | |
to Aug. 8 | | | | |
| | | | |
July 25 | Kara | | | 46 |
to July 28 | | | | |
| | | | |
Aug. 9 | Khabarofka to | | 628 | |
to Aug. 13 | Nikolaefsk | | | |
| | | | |
Aug. 31 | Nikolaefsk to | | 628 | |
to Sept. 4 | Khabarofka | | | |
| | | | |
Sept. 6 | Khabarofka to | | 510 | |
to Sept. 11 | Kamen-Ruiboloff | | | |
| | | | |
Sept. 11 | Kamen-Ruiboloff to | | | 88 | 27
to Sept. 12 | Rasdolnoi | | | |
| | | | |
Sept. 15 | Rasdolnoi to | | 66 | |
| Vladivostock | | | |
| | ----- | ----- | ----- | -----
| | 2,670 | 5,753 | 3,132 | 1,005
| | | | |
| | | SEA | |
| | | MILES.| |
| | | | |
Sept. 30 | Vladivostock to | | 553 | |
to Oct. 4 | Hakodate | | | |
| | | | |
Oct. 4 | Hakodate to Yokohama | | 645 | |
to Oct. 11 | | | | |
| | | | |
Oct. 11 | Yokohama to | | 5,261 | |
to Oct. 27 | San Francisco | | | |
| | | | |
Oct. 29 | San Francisco to Ogden | 883 | | |
to Nov. 5 | | | | |
| | | | |
Oct. 29 | Lathrop to Yo-Semite | 182 | | 170 |
to Nov. 3 | Valley and back | | | |
| | | | |
Nov. 5 | Ogden to Salt Lake City | 74 | | |
to Nov. 6 | and back | | | |
| | | | |
Nov. 6 | Ogden to Omaha | 1,032 | | |
to Nov. 8 | | | | |
| | | | |
Nov. 8 | Omaha to Chicago | 502 | | |
to Nov. 9 | | | | |
| | | | |
Nov. 10 | Chicago to New York | 961 | | |
to Nov. 13 | | | | |
| | | | |
Nov. 15 | New York to Liverpool | | 3,482 | |
to Nov. 25 | | | | |
| | | | |
Nov. 25 | Liverpool to Blackheath | 207 | | 3 |
to Nov. 25 | | | | |
| | ----- | ------ | ----- | -----
| | 6,511 | 15,694 | 3,305 | 1,005
\________ __________/
\/
25,510

From the foregoing it will appear that the total distance travelled was
25,510 miles, of which 3,305 miles were accomplished by the hire of
1,005 post-horses. The whole time occupied was 210 days, of these, 50
days were stationary; thus leaving 160 days, during which was covered
an average of 159 miles per day.

APPENDIX G.

BIBLIOGRAPHY OF SIBERIA,

AND LIST OF WORKS CONSULTED OR REFERRED TO IN THE FOREGOING VOLUMES.

_Adams, A. L._, Travels of a Naturalist in Japan and Manchuria, 1870.

_Agar, Mrs._, Adventures of a Serf’s Wife. _London_, 1866.

Amur and Adjacent Districts. “Royal Geographical Society’s Journal,”
vol. xxviii. _London_, 1858.

Amur River Explorations. _Washington_, 1859.

_Andreoli, M. Emile._ De Pologne en Sibérie: Journal de Captivité,
1863-1867. “Revue Moderne,” August and September, 1868.

_Atkinson, T. W._, Oriental and Western Siberia. _London_, 1858.

_Atkinson, T. W._, Travels in the Regions of the Upper and Lower
Amoor. _London_, Hurst, 1861.

_Author of_ “Member for Paris,” The Russians of To-day. _London_,
Smith and Elder, 1878.

_Banished Lady, A_, Revelations of Siberia. 1853.

_Barry, H._, Ivan at Home; or, Pictures of Russian Life. _London_,
1872.

_Bax, B. W._, The Eastern Seas. _London_, Murray, 1875.

Bible of Every Land; a History of the Sacred Scriptures in every
Language and Dialect. _London_, Bagster, 1851.

_Blackmore, W. R._, Doctrines of the Russian Church, being the Primer,
or Spelling Book, the Shorter and Longer Catechisms, and a
Treatise on the Duty of Parish Priests. _Aberdeen_, 1845.

_Blackmore, W. R._, Mouravieff’s Doctrines of the Russian Church.
_Oxford_, Parker, 1842.

_Burney, James_, Chronological History of North-Eastern Voyages of
Discovery, and of the Early Eastern Navigations of the Russians.
_London_, 1819.

_Bush, R. J._, Reindeer, Dogs, and Snow-Shoes; Siberian Travel in
1865-7. _London_, Low, 1871.

Calendar (Russian) for 1880. _Petersburg_, Hoppe, 1880.

_Chappé d’Auteroche_, Journey into Siberia, made by order of the King
of France in 1761. Translated. _London_, 1770.

_Chester, H. M._, Russia, Past and Present, adapted from the German of
Lankenau and Oelnitz. _London_, Society for Promoting Christian
Knowledge, 1881.

_Cochrane, J. D._, Narrative of a Pedestrian Journey through Russia
and Siberian Tartary from the Frontiers of China to the Frozen Sea
and Kamchatka. _London_, 1825.

_Collins, P. M._, Siberia to Japan. _New York_, 1860.

_Collins, P. M._, A Voyage Down the Amoor. _London_, 1860.

_Cottin, Madame de_, Elizabeth; or, the Exiles of Siberia. Translated.
_London_, 1808.

_Cottrill, Herbert_, Recollections of Siberia in the Year 1840-1.
_London_, Parker, 1842.

_Covel, John, D.D._, Some Account of the Greek Church compared with
Goar’s Notes on the Greek Ritual. _Cambridge_, 1722.

_De Foe, Daniel_, Life and Adventures of Robinson Crusoe. _London_,
Cadell, 1820.

_De Lagny, G._, The Knout and the Russians. _London_, Bogue, 1854.

_Dobell, P._, Travels in Kamtchatka and Siberia. _London_, Bentley,
1830.

Documents of the United States Senate about Alaska. _Washington_, 1876.

_Dostoyeffsky, F._, (A. P. Goryantchikoff) Buried Alive; or, Ten
Years’ Penal Servitude in Siberia. Translated from the Russian.
_London_, Longmans, 1881.

_Eden, C. H._, Frozen Asia. _London_, Society for Promoting Christian
Knowledge, 1879.

Education, Plan of, in the Boys’ Gymnasia (in Russ). _Petersburg_,
1872.

_Erman, Adolph_, Travels in Siberia. _London_, Longmans, 1848.

_Finsch, O._, Reise nach West Sibirien, im Jahre 1876. _Berlin_, 1879.

_Fowkes, F._, The Greek and Latin Churches. _London_, Whittaker, 1854.

_Gayarin, Father_, Russian Clergy. Translated from the French by
Charles du G. Makepeace. _London_, Burns, 1872.

_Gordon, Peter_, Fragment of a Tour through Persia in 1820, containing
Voyages to and from Ochotsk in Siberia. _London_, 1833.

_Goryantchikoff, A. P._, Buried Alive; or, Ten Years’ Penal Servitude
in Siberia. Edited by Dostoyeffsky. Translated. _London_,
Longmans, 1881.

_Grant, C. M._, Gold Mines of Eastern Siberia. From the “Mining
Magazine.”

Greek and Eastern Churches. _London_, Religious Tract Society.

Greek Church, Articles on:--
“Bibliotheca Sacra,” vol. xv.
“British and Foreign Review,” vol. ix.
“Christian Examiner” (American), vol. lix.
“Church Quarterly Review” (American). _New York_, 1859.

Greek Church: A Sketch. _London_, Darling, 1850.

_Grieve, James_, History of Kamchatka and the Kurilski Islands.
Translated from Russian, 1764.

_Hansteen_, Travels in Siberia. _London_, “Leisure Hour,” 1879.

_Hardy, Mrs._, Up North; or, Lost and Found in Russia. _London_,
Nimmo, 1878.

_Hertzen, A._, My Exile in Siberia. _London_, Hurst, 1855.

_Hill, S. S._, Travels in Siberia. _London_, Longmans, 1854.

_Hovgaard, A._, Nordenskiöld’s Voyage around Asia and Europe:
a popular account of the North-East Passage of the _Vega_.
Translated by H. L. Brækstad. _London_, Sampson Low and Co., 1882.

_Huc, Abbé_, Life and Travels in Tartary, Thibet, and China.
Translated by W. Hazlitt. _London_, 1867.

_K. O._ (Madame Novikoff), Russia and England from 1876-80: a Protest
and an Appeal. _London_, Longmans, 1880.

_Kennan, G._, Tent Life in Siberia. _London_, Low, 1870.

_King, John G._, Rites and Ceremonies of the Greek Church in Russia.
_London_, 1772.

_Knox, T. W._, Overland Through Asia. _Hartford_, Connecticut, 1871.

_Kotzebue, Augustus Von_, The Most Remarkable Year in the Life of,
containing an account of his Exile into Siberia. Translated.
_London_, 1802.

_Latham, R. G._, Native Races of Russian Empire. _London_, Baillière,
1854.

_Leslie, Alexander_, Arctic Voyages of A. E. Nordenskiöld. _London_,
Macmillan, 1879.

_Lesseps, M. de_, Travels in Kamchatka during the years 1787 and 1788,
2 vols. Translated. _London_, 1790.

_Littledale, R. F._, Holy Eastern Church, a Popular Outline of its
History. _London_, Hayes, 1872.

_Littledale, R. F._, Offices from the Service Books of the Holy
Eastern Church, with translations. 1863.

_Lover of Truth, A_, The Antidote; or, The Inquiry into the Merits of
a Book entitled “A Journey into Siberia made in 1761,” by the Abbé
Chappé. Translated. _London_, 1772.

_Maack, R._, Travels on Amur (in Russ.). _Petersburg_, 1859.

_Maistre, X. de_, Jeune Sibérienne, and Index. _London_, Dulau, 1878.

_Masson, E._, Apology for the Greek Church. _London_, Hatchards, 1844.

_Mayhew, H._, Criminal Prisons of London, and Scenes of Prison Life.
_London_, Griffin, 1862.

_Michie_, Siberian Overland Route from Peking to Petersburg. _London_,
Murray, 1864.

_Middendorff, A. T. Von_, Siberie Reise. _Petersburg_, 1860.

_Milne, J._, Journey Across Asia. “Transactions of Asiatic Society of
Japan,” vol. vii. _London_, Trübner, 1879.

_Mouravieff_, Harmony of Anglican and Eastern Doctrine. 1846.

_Muller, G. F._, Conquest of Siberia. 1842.

_Neale, J. M._, History of the Holy Eastern Church. _London_, Masters,
1850.

_Nordenskiöld, A. E._, Arctic Voyages of. By Alexander Leslie.
_London_, Macmillan, 1879.

_Nordenskiöld, A. E._, The Voyage of the _Vega_ round Asia and Europe,
with an Historical Review of previous voyages along the North
Coast of the Old World. Translated by Alexander Leslie. _London_,
Macmillan, 1881.

“Oriental Church Magazine,” Quarterly. _New York_, from 1878.

_Overbeck, J. J._, A Plain View of the Claims of the Orthodox Catholic
Church as opposed to all other Christian Denominations. _London_,
Trübner, 1881.

_Palmer, Adam H._, Memoirs, Geographical and Political, The Amur,
etc., 30th Congress, 1st Session, etc.

_Palmer_, Patriarch and Tsar. _London_, Trübner, 1871.

_Pietrowski, R._, My Escape from Siberia. _London_, Routledge.

_Pietrowski, R._, Story of a Siberian Exile. _London_, Longmans, 1863.

_Pinkerton, R._, Russia; or, Miscellaneous Observations on the Past
and Present State of that Country, etc. _London_, Seeleys, 1833.

_Pinkerton, R._, Present State of the Greek Church in Russia; or, a
Summary of Christian Divinity. _Edinburgh_, 1816.

_Platon_, Present State of the Greek Church. Translated by Pinkerton.
_Edinburgh_, 1815.

Post-Book of Russian Empire. _Petersburg_, 1875.

_Prejevalsky, N._, Mongolia, etc. Translated from Russian, by E. D.
Morgan. _London_, Low, 1876.

_Prinsep, H. T._, Thibet, Tartary, and Mongolia. _London_, 1852.

_Rae, Edward_, Land of the North Wind; or, Travels among Laplanders
and Samoyedes. _London_, Murray, 1875.

_Ravenstein, E. G._, The Russians on the Amur. _London_, Trübner, 1861.

_Réclus, E._, Nouvelle Géographie Universelle VI. L’Asie Russe.
_Paris_, Hachette et Cie, 1881.

_Reisen in Russ Asien II._ _Leipzig_, Otto Spamer, 1866.

Report, Meteorological, “Annalen des Physikalischen
centralobservatoriums” (in Russ and German). _Petersburg_, H.
Wild, 1878.

Report of the Orthodox Missionary Society for 1876 (in Russ).
_Moscow_, 1878.

Report of Directors of Convict Prisons for 1877. _London_, Eyre and
Spottiswoode, 1878.

Revelations of Russia, 2 vols. _London_, H. Colburn, 1844.

_Romanoff, H. C._, Liturgy of St. John Chrysostom. _London_, 1871.

_Romanoff, H. C._, Rites and Customs of the Græco-Russian Church.
_London_, Rivington, 1868.

_R[osen], Baron_, Russian Conspirators in Siberia. Translated from the
German. _London_, Smith and Elder, 1872.

Russia, Recollections of. By _A German Nobleman_, during 33 years’
residence. 1855.

Russian Church, History of. “Christian Remembrancer,” vol. x.

Russians of To-day. By the Author of “The Member for Paris.” _London_,
Smith and Elder, 1878.

_Sauer, M._, Account of a Geographical and Astronomical Expedition to
the North Parts of Russia, the mouth of the Kolyma to East Cape,
and Islands in the Eastern Ocean, performed by Joseph Billings,
1785-94. _London_, 1802.

_Seebohm, Henry_, Contributions to the Ornithology of Siberia. The
“Ibis,” April, 1878.

_Seebohm, Henry_, A Visit to the Valley of the Yenesei. _London_,
Clowes, 1879.

_Shaw, Robert_, Visits to Chinese Tartary. _London_, Murray, 1871.

_Shepherd, Captain W._, Homeward through Mongolia and Siberia. “Royal
Engineers’ Journal,” 1880.

Siberia, Article on. “Contemporary Review,” September, 1879.

Siberia, Article on. “Revue de deux Mondes,” September, 1879.

Siberia, Revelations of. By _A Banished Lady_. 1853.

_Smith, Thomas_, Doctrines of the Greek Church, 1680.

_Spalding, Captain_, Venyukoff’s “Saghalien.” “Royal Geographical
Society’s Journal,” vol. xlii. _London_, 1872.

_Stanley, A. P._, History of the Eastern Church. _London_, Murray, 2nd
ed., 1862.

_Strahlenberg, P. G._, Description of North and East of Europe.
_London_, 1738.

_Théel, M._, Rapport de, sur les Expéditions Suédoises de 1876 au
Yéneséi. _Upsal_, Edquist, 1877.

_Ure, A._, Dictionary of Arts, Manufactures, and Mines. _London_,
Longmans, 1863.

_Venyukoff_, Saghalien. Translated by Captain Spalding. “Royal
Geographical Society’s Journal,” vol. xlii.

_Waddington, G._, Present Condition and Prospects of the Greek or
Oriental Church. _London_, Murray, 1854.

_Wahl, O. W._, Land of the Czar. _London_, Chapman and Hall, 1875.

_Wallace, D. Mackenzie_, Russia. _London_, Cassells, 1877.

_Whyte, W. H._, Land Journey from Asia to Europe. _London_, Low, 1871.

_Wiggins, J._, The Austro-German Polar Expedition. Translated.
_Bishopwearmouth_, Wm. Carr, 1875.

_Williamson, A._, North China, Manchuria, Corea. _London_, 1870.

INDEX.

Åbo, Prison of, 63

Aboriginal population of Siberia, 52

Aborigines’ love of drink, 102

---- of Manchuria, 547

---- of the Yenesei, 205

Accident on tarantass journey, 251

Account of a Russian prison, 380

Across Europe, 9
Lake Baikal, 309

Adamson, Mr., the catechist, 229

Advocate, Profession of an, 582

Afloat with Russians, 732

Aged prisoners at Kara, 470

Agriculture of the Daurians, 549

Aigun, Difficulty of entering, 558

---- Government buildings at, 557

---- Population of, 556

---- Temple at, 558

---- Theatre at, 558

---- Town of, 495, 556

Aïno, Appearance of an, 650

---- language, 650

---- mission, 650

---- Translation into, 650

Akatuya, Prisoners in irons at, 421

Akmolinsk, Distribution of tracts in province of, 186

---- Dr. Finsch in, 159

Albazikha River, 515

Albazin, Country surrounding, 515

---- Sieges of, 515

---- Trees in vicinity of, 515

Alcohol and _vodka_, 544

Alcoholic liquors at Irkutsk, Price of, 265

Alexander, Peter, Protodiakonoff of Khabarofka, 673

---- Baptisms of Goldi by, 674

---- House of, 677

---- Translation of Gospels by, 673

---- Visit to, 673

Alexandreffsky, Inquiries concerning Author at, 249

---- Journey to, 243

---- Photography at, 250

---- Prison, 70, 245
Amusements, 83
Book for description of prisoners, 76
Books for, 249
Brickmaking, 247
Cigarette-paper making, 247
Convicts, Number of, 70
Director of, 244
Ethnography of, 246
Food, 79
Formerly a factory, 245
Gardening, 248
Hospital, 248
_Petchka_, 246
Prisoners in irons, 248
---- Number of, 246
---- seeing friends, 246
_Scorbutus_ among prisoners, 249
Secret cell in, 245
Shoemaking in, 247
Work, 82, 446
---- Lack of, 247

Altai mountains, boundary of Russia in Asia, 19

---- Discovery of metals in, 153

---- Extent of, 148

---- Minerals in, 104

---- silver-mines, 411

Altars of sacrifice, 591

American animals, 644

Amur, Arrival on the, 503

---- Atkinson, Mr., on the, 440

---- Chernigovsky’s expedition, 492

---- Collins on the, 499

---- Colonists, 502

Amur, Cucumbers on the, 588

---- Difficulties with China, 501

---- History of the, 489

---- _Ingoda_ steamer on the, 510

---- Khabarof’s expedition, 490

---- Length of the, 504

---- Lower:
Animals, 599
Boundary of, 580
Cats, Price of, 600
Cliff at Tyr, 589
Depth of, 580
Fish, 581
Flowers, 579
Fruit, 583
Gilyak habitation, 591
Hotsprings, 588
Ravenstein on the, 581
Religious services on the, 725
Scenery, 580
Settlers’ village, 588
Temperature of, 579
Trees of, 579
Weather, 627
Width of, 580-85

---- Middle:
Climate of, 532
Manyargs on, 507
Province, Area of, 543
Scenery of, 535
Scripture distribution, 538

---- Military Governor of the, 500

---- Muravieff, the Governor, 496

---- Pashkof’s expedition, 492

---- Population of province, 543

---- Poyarkof’s expedition, 490

---- Route through Siberia, 52

---- Russian conquests on the, 489

---- Source of the, 19

---- Stepanof’s expedition, 491

---- Territory of the, 504
Tribes’ appeal to China for help against Russia, 493

---- Upper:
Cliffs on the, 516
Flora of, 516
Peoples on Chinese bank, 506

---- Ust-Strelka, The river at, 514

---- Venyukoff’s mission, 494

---- _Zeya_ steamer aground, 511

Amusements of the Chinese, 342

---- Dancing, 622

---- Gilyak, 602

---- Prison, 83

Amusements, Russian, 621

---- Swings, 621

Anadir River, 639

---- Fish in the, 640

Anadirsk, Fort of, 640

Andreoli, M., Exile of, 43

---- on flogging, 93

---- on the _knout_, 91

Andreyeff, M., Introduction to, 615

Anecdote concerning an “equipage,” 439

Angara River, Rapids of the, 311

---- Temperature of the, 310

Anglo-Chinese War, Influence of the, 501

Animals, American, 644

---- Asiatic, 644

---- Distribution over Siberia, 697

---- of chase in Yeneseisk, 207

---- of Sakhalin, 649

---- on Lower Amur, 599

---- Wild, 188

Aniva Bay, Scriptures for, 660

Annexation, Russian, of Siberia, 109

Antiquities, Bulgarian, 13

Appeal, Court of, 73

Apple-tree mountains, View of, 360

Archangel, Distribution of Scriptures at, 733

---- tour of Author, 4

“Archangel Gabriel” mine, 218

Archbishop of Irkutsk, Interview sought with, 274

---- of Tobolsk on tract distribution, 183

Archery in Manchuria, 556

Area of Russia in Asia, 18

---- of Tobolsk, 97

---- of Trans-Baikal province, 400

_Argols_ as fuel, 368

Army officers, Pay of, 668

Arrests for drunkenness, Number of, 545

Arrival at Kamen-Ruiboloff, 686

---- at Petersburg, 9

Arrows and bows of Ostjaks, 126

Art in Siberia, 433

Asia and Europe, Frontier of, 18

---- Ethnography of Russia in, 19, 52

Asiatic animals, 644

---- boundary-line, 49

---- Russia, Population of, 20

Assaying gold at the mine, 223

Assizes, Court of, 73

Asylum at Krasnoiarsk, 229

---- for prisoners’ children, 77

Atchinsk, Ispravnik of, 195

Atkinson, Mr., on the Amur, 440

---- on Buriat missions, 375

---- on Kirghese, 159

---- on Nertchinsk climate, 425

Atmosphere of prisons, 381

Author, Dilemma of, at Khabarofka, 574

---- Distance travelled by, 770

---- Farewell of exile life by, 726-8

---- Impressions of, concerning exile life, 726-8

---- Inquiries concerning, at Alexandreffsky, 249

---- Itinerary of, round the world, 770

---- Object of journey of, 1

---- Opinion of, on prisons, 662

---- Religious services of, 701, 709, 725

---- Work of, in Western Siberia, 733

---- Works consulted by, 772

Awaking a Russian at Nijni Udinsk, 241

Baikal, Lake, 19

---- Area of, 312

---- Basin of, 312

---- Destination for political prisoners, 37

---- Fish of, 312

---- Flora of neighbourhood, 315

---- Storms on, 312

Bail found by prisoners, 74

Bank at Khabarofka, 578

---- Siberian State, 578

Bankova River, Fair held by Cossacks, 488

Baptism, Author’s administration of, 701, 709

---- Certificate of, 709

---- in the Russian Church, 167

---- of Goldi, 674

---- Service of, 167

Barge transport of exiles, 29, 120

Barnaul, Cemetery at, 152

---- Flora in district of, 149

---- Hospital at, 153

---- Journey to, 148

---- Land at, Cost of, 158

---- Museum at, 157

---- Poor-house at, 153

---- Population of, 152

---- Provisions at, Cost of, 158

---- Silver-smelting at, 156

---- Tatars at, 62

---- _Usine_ at, 153-6

Barracks at Blagovestchensk, 526

---- at gold-mines, 223

---- at Kara, 452

---- at Nikolaefsk, 620

---- at Vladivostock, 718

Bath-room in Petersburg Model Prison, 66

Battle with cockroaches at Rasdolnoi, 702

Bays in the Primorsk, 562

Bazaar at Tomsk, 128

Bears, Mode of capturing, 209

---- venerated by Gilyaks, 606, 608

Beds in Siberia, 444

Beef at Irkutsk, Cheapness of, 265

Beggars at Krasnoiarsk, 228

---- at Tomsk, 228

_Beljetchenko_ steamer, 117

---- Card-playing on the, 119

Bell exiled, 113

Bells of Russian churches, 332

Benediction of water, 169

Betrothal of Gilyaks, 601

Beverages of gold-miners, 224

_Bezpopoftschins_, Sects of, 759

Bible distribution on the Shilka, 539

---- possessed by priest at Krasnorechinska, 195

---- Russian Church and the, 181

---- Society:
Finnish grant of, 3
Irkutsk, Contemplated depôt at, 268
Kansk, 238
Roumanian grant, 3
Russian Scriptures printed for the, 8
Tomsk, Depôt at, 237

Bibliography of Siberia, 772

Bigotry of the Russian Church, 756

Biisk, Prison at, 133

Billings, Joseph, on Kamchatka, 631

Birching of prisoners, 89

---- Effects of, 473

Birch-trees on the Upper Amur, 515

Birds known to the Goldi, 600

---- of prey in Western Siberia, 189

---- of the Yeneseisk province, 202

---- on Mongolian frontier, 357

---- on the Yenesei, Seebohm on, 763

Bishop, Consecration of a, 167

“Black” Nihilists, 34

Blagovestchensk, Cossack barracks at, 526

---- Flood at, 532

---- Foundation of, 500

---- Government establishments at, 526

---- Meaning of, 518

---- Merchants’ stores at, 526

---- Meteorology of, 532

---- Missionary effort at, 518-19

---- Prison at, 525

---- Provisions at, Cost of, 527

---- Seminary for priests, 523

---- Students’ education at, 523

---- Temperature of, 532

Board at post-houses, 141

Boats of the Goldi, 600

---- of the Manchu, 554-5

---- on the Lena, 285

Bogotol, Hospitality at, 194

Bolan, Mission school at, 604

Books at Irkutsk hospital, 276

---- Church, Revision of, 758

---- English, on Siberia, at Nikolaefsk, 629

---- for prison, 113

---- for prisoners at Irkutsk, 277

---- for the Trans-Baikal, 400
Letters concerning them, 401, 402

---- left with Gen. Ismailoff, 279

---- left with M. Lochwitzky, 279

---- for Alexandreffsky prison, 249

---- on Siberian prisoners, 379

---- Stock of, at Irkutsk, 280

Boot-making in prison, 247

Bothnian tour of Author, 540

Boundaries of Siberia, 49

---- of the Yeneseisk province, 199

Boundary of Russia and China, 323

Bows and arrows of the Ostjaks, 126

Boys’ Industrial School at Vladivostock, 723

Branding prisoners abolished, 464

Bread, A substitute for, 642

---- Black, 141

Bribery by prisoners, 39

Bribery in trading transactions, 626

---- of guards by exiles, 39

---- of prison officials, 277

Brickmaking at Alexandreffsky, 247

_British Workman_ in Russ, 7

Brunière, De la, missionary to Gilyaks, 612

Buddhist praying machine, 373

---- temple at Maimatchin, 344

Building a Siberian prison, 70

Buildings at Nikolaefsk, 625

Bulgarian Antiquities, Museum of, 13

Bureya district, Climate of, 542

---- mountains, Coal in the, 536

---- Scenery of, 537

Burial service of the Russian Church, 152

Buriats as drivers, 356-69

---- attitude towards exiles, 40

---- Conversion of, 374

---- feast of boiled mutton, 367

---- Fuel of, 368

---- habitations, 366

---- lamasery, or monastery, 335

---- method of salutation, 356

---- Missions to the, 357
Atkinson, Mr., on, 375
Cochrane, J. D., on, 375
Hill, Mr. S. S., on, 375

---- _Obos_ of the, 405

---- Occupation of the, 369

---- opposition to invasion, 281

---- Physiognomy of, 364

---- Population of, 369

---- Possessions of the, 369

---- Religion of the, 370

---- Respect of, for Lamas, 371

---- treatment of escaped convicts, 40

---- Women’s head-dresses, 365

“Buried Alive,” by Goryantchikoff, on flogging, 654

---- on political prisoners, 384

Burney, Capt., on Kamchatka, 631

Burning of Irkutsk, 253

Bush, Mr., on Kamchatka, 633

Busse, General, Military Governor of the Amur, 500

Butter, Siberian, 188

---- Cost of, 317

Butterflies on the Alexandreffsky route, 240

Camels, Caravan route by, 351

---- on Mongolian frontier, 357

Candidates for holy orders, Lack of, 171

Candle worship, 164

Caravan transport in Siberia, 354

Card-playing at Sakhalin, 656

---- by prisoners, 388

---- on the _Beljetchenko_, 119

---- on the Ussuri, 680

Carriage, Siberian, Cost of, 105, 746

Carts of the Manchu, 552

Catechist at Krasnoiarsk, 229

Cathedral at Kiakhta, 332

---- at Krasnoiarsk, 230

---- singing, 165

Cats, Price of, on Lower Amur, 600

Cattle in the Primorsk, 697

---- of the Manchu, 550

---- of the Yeneseisk province, 204

Cattley, Oswald, Loan of tarantass by, 27

---- on Obi trade, 27, 108, 761

Cavalry, Mongolian, in Kiakhta, 326

Cells at Blagovestchensk, 525

---- Dark, in Model Prison at Petersburg, 66

---- in Kara prison, 469

---- Solitary, 88

Cemeteries, Russian, 152

Cemetery at Barnaul, 152

Certificate of baptism, 709

Chains worn by prisoners, 154

Changing horses, 140

Chapel in Model Prison at Petersburg, 67

---- Lutheran, at Krasnoiarsk, 228

Chaplain for prisoners at Kara, 458

Chaplains of prisons, 663

Character of Koriaks, 640

Cheese-making, 188

Cheliuskin, Cape, Discovery of, 767

---- rounded by Nordenskiöld, 292

Chernigovsky’s expedition on the Amur, 492

Children of prisoners’ asylum, 77

China, Boundary of, 323

---- Difficulties with, on Amur question, 501

---- Ethnography of empire, 206

---- High road to, 52

---- North-east passage to, attempted, 766

---- Population of, 206

---- Travellers on Mongolian route, 349

---- Treaties with Russia, 323

Chinese amusement, 342

---- appealed to by Amur tribes, 493.

---- chopsticks, 347

---- clerks at Maimatchin, 340

---- demand for silver money, 715

---- dinner at Maimatchin, 345

---- exports into Russia, 341

---- in the Primorsk, Number of, 714

---- junks and houses at Vladivostock, 716

---- merchant at Maimatchin, 339

---- method of salutation, 356

---- _samovar_, 347

---- use of tea, 340

Chita, 70

---- Cucumbers at, 426

---- Flora in neighbourhood of, 404

---- _Plète_ at, 94

---- Population of, 361

---- Prison at, 362
The “Black-cart” at, 362

---- Situation of, 361
Baron R[osen] on, 425

Christian Goldi, Photograph of, 674

Christmas presents to scholars at Vladivostock, 723

Chukchee coast, Fauna of, 643
_Vega_ frozen in on the, 646

---- country, Flora of, 644

---- language, 647

Chukchees, Marriage customs of the, 643

---- Number of the, 639

Church affairs in province of Irkutsk, 273

---- at Kozloffskaya, 670

---- at Nikolaefsk, 624

---- Baptism, 167
Certificate of, 709

---- Bells, 332

---- Bigotry, 756

---- Bishop, Consecration of a, 167

---- books, Revision of, 758

---- Candles, 164

---- Cathedrals, 165

---- Clergy, 163

---- committees, 163

---- Confession, contrition, and communion, 169, 237

---- “Consistory,” 164

---- Consolidation of the, 751

---- Dioceses, 163

---- “Directory,” 163

---- discipline, 175

---- Doctrines of Russian, Roman, and English, 754

---- Eastern, Greek, and Russian, Distinction between, 162

---- Fanatical sects, 758

---- Fasting, 177

---- Foundation of, 751

---- History of the, 751

---- Holy oil, 169

---- Images, Worship of, 164

---- Journal of priest, 174

---- knowledge, Sources of, 161

---- Liturgy, 166

---- Lutheran, at Vladivostock, 717

---- Metropolitans, 176

---- Missionary collections, 520

---- Monasteries, 163-77
Clergy of, 176

---- music, 165

---- Nunneries, 179

---- Obligation of clergy to be married, 524

---- Orders, 166

---- Ordinations, 166

---- Parish priest: Position, pay, and tithes of, 172-3

---- Parishioners, 163

---- Penance, Sacrament of, 169

---- Picture worship, 164

---- Priests, Social disadvantages of, 173

---- processions, 174

---- Protestants in Siberia, Number of, 726

---- Reformation period, 753

---- Registers, 174

---- Relation of Greek to English, 181

---- Ritual, 166

---- Rural deaneries, 163

---- schisms, 756

---- Seminary for priests at Blagovestchensk, 523

---- Sermons, 460, 671
Number of, yearly, in Petersburg, 460

---- Services:
Burial, 152
Commemoration of the Virgin, 165
Marriage, 168

---- Transition period, 752

---- Unction, Sacrament of, 169

---- Vestments, 163-4

Churches at Irkutsk, 265

Churching of women, 167

Cigarette-making at Alexandreffsky, 247

City on fire, 253

Civic arrangements in Russian towns, 716

Classification of exiles, 29, 33

---- of prisoners, 72, 450

Clergy of Siberian Church, 163

---- Fasting of, 177

---- Monastic, 176

Clerical vestments, 164

Cliffs on the Upper Amur, 516

---- on the Shilka River, 483

Climate of the Middle Amur, 532

---- of Bureya district, 542

---- of Kamchatka, 635

---- of Kansk, 240

---- of Lake Khanka district, 690

---- of Nertchinsk, 426
Atkinson, Mr., on, 425

---- of Nikolaefsk, 563

---- of the Lower Primorsk, 564

---- of Tomsk, 127-46

Clothing, 50

---- of Cossacks, 683

---- of prisoners, 80, 455

---- of seamen, 737

Club, Officers’, at Nikolaefsk, 624

Coal at Dui, 81

---- at Sakhalin, 651

---- at Vladivostock, 678

---- in Bureya mountains, 536

Coat of fish-skin, 597

Cochrane, Capt., on Buriat missions, 375

---- Travels of, 282-5

---- Visit of, to Nertchinsk, 412

Cockroaches at Rasdolnoi, Battle with, 702

Coldest town--Yakutsk, 296

Collections at church doors for missions, 520

Collins, Mr., Descent of, in a silver-mine, 412

---- on the Amur, 499

---- Visit of, to Nertchinsk, 417

---- Voyage of, down the Shilka, 441

Colonies of Finns in Siberia, 131

Colonists, Exile, in Eastern Siberia, Number of, 451

---- “Little” Russians as, 32

---- on the Amur, 502

---- Penal, at Vladivostock, 726

---- Privileges granted to, 698

Colonization of the Lower Amur, 500

Commandant of Kara Prison: Government allowance to, 474

---- Hospitality of, 480

---- Namesday of, 479

---- Salary of, 461

Commemorations of the Virgin, 165

Commerce of Tiumen, 27

---- of Vladivostock, 716

---- Russo-Chinese:
Kiakhta as a centre of, 324

---- The Obi as an outlet for, 51

Commercial school at Tiumen, 28

Committees in connection with prisons, 77

Communication by Siberian roads, 51

Confession and Communion, 237

---- Priestly, 169, 237

Confinement, Solitary, 88

Conquests of Russia on the Amur, 489

---- of Yermak, 57

Conscription, Russian, Method of, 736

Consecration of a Bishop, 167

Consolidation of the Russian Church, 751

_Contemporary Review_ on political exiles, 413

Contraband articles in Model Prison of Petersburg, 67

Conversion of a learned lama, 521

---- of Buriats, 374

---- of the Yakutes, Tzar’s ukase for the, 305

Convict clothing and chains, 155
exiles as servants, 730

Convicts at Alexandreffsky, Number of, 70

---- at Kara, Freedom of, 448
Number of, 445

---- in the mines, 462

---- labour compared with English, 662

---- opinions of Tobolsk prison, 115

Convicts, Runaway, hunted down by Buriats, 40

Cooking not usually needed, 512

---- “Rob Roy” cuisine, 145

Copper-mine, Descent of a, 21

---- at Nijni Tagilsk, 138

---- Malachite in, 21

Corean fugitives, 714

---- houses, 715

Corporal punishment, 423

Correspondence with exiles, 38

Cossacks, Barracks for, at Blagovestchensk, 526

---- Buriats’ opposition to, 281

---- Clothing of, 683

---- combing goats, 26

---- fair on Shilka, 488

---- Food of, 682-3

---- Houses of, 683

---- in Lower Primorsk, 568

---- on the Ussuri, 681

---- Pay of, 682

---- Summer barracks at Kara, 452

Cost of carriage in Siberia, 105, 746

---- of salmon at Nikolaefsk, 628

---- of Siberian butler, 317

Costume of a Tunguse _Shaman_, 158

---- of the Kirghese, 158

---- of the Manchu, 551

---- The _Mala-Russiá_, 250

Cottin, Madame de, “Story of Elizabeth,” 379-83

Country of the Daurians, 548

---- of the Samoyedes, 98

---- round Albazin, 515

Courier travelling, 134

Courts of law, Russian and Siberian, 73

Cows near Tomsk, 188

Creed, Religious, of exiles, 29

Crime attributed to drunkenness, 29

---- in district of Kansk, 235-6

Crimean war, Influence of the, 497

Crimes of exiles, 34

---- of prisoners at Kara, 448

Criminals at Nikolaefsk, Birching of, 89

---- Desperate, 655

---- Statistics of, 72

---- Zavod work for, 82

Cucumbers at Chita, 426

---- on the Amur, 588

Curiosity of fellow-passengers concerning Scripture distribution, 539

Custom at leave-taking, 353

---- of addressing friends, 406, 620

Customs of Goldi, 672

---- Trade, 627

_Daily Telegraph_ on number of political prisoners, 396

Dancing at Mikhailofsky, 622

Daurians, Agriculture of the, 549

---- Country of the, 548

---- Howorth, Mr., on the, 548

---- Religion of the, 549

Dead, Gilyaks’ treatment of the, 611

---- Manchurian treatment of, 554

Deaneries, Rural, of the Russian Church, 163

Decembrists, Sympathy of Russians for, 32, 378

Decocq’s hotel at Irkutsk, 254

Deer in Southern Manchuria, 696

---- of the Koriaks, 642

De la Brunière, Missionary to Gilyaks, 612

De Lagny on Siberian political prisoners, 380

---- on the _knout_, 380

De Lesseps on Kamchatka, 631

---- travels in Siberia, 282

Demidoff hospital at Tagil, 24

---- mines at Nijni Tagilsk, 21

---- works at ditto, 21

Demidoffs, Riches of the, 23

Deportation of exiles, Localities, 37

---- Modern plan of, 42

---- of political prisoners to the Trans-Baikal, 377

---- of vagrants to Sakhalin, 37

Depôt for sale of Scriptures at Krasnoiarsk, 232

Description of a Siberian village, 190

---- of the _plète_, 90, 92

Deserted village at Pashkova, 671

Desperate criminals, 655

Destination of exiles, Walking to, 44

Destruction of property by fire at Irkutsk, 263

De Vries, Capt., of Vladivostock, 712

Dialect of Koriaks, 640

Diet of prisoners at Kara, 453

Dinner among Chinese at Maimatchin, 345

---- at a Siberian hotel, 431

---- at Nikolaefsk, 619

Diocese of Irkutsk, Number of churches, 274

Dioceses of Siberian Church, 163

Director of Alexandreffsky prison, 244

---- Pay of, at Irkutsk prison, 277

Directories of Siberian Church, 163

Discipline, Ecclesiastical, 175

Discoveries of Nordenskiöld and Wiggins, 761

Discovery of the Shilka River, 492

Dissent, Exiled for, 34

---- _Scoptsi_ village of, 205

Dissenters, Efforts to reclaim, 518

---- Number of, 519-27

Distance travelled by Author, 770

Distress at Irkutsk after fire, 269

Distribution of exiles, 43

---- of Scriptures and tracts, 3, 7, 8, 11, 121-9, 183-6, 401, 538,
665-6, 703-33

_Djiguitt_, Divine Service on board the, 740

---- in a squall, 742

---- Inspection of the, 741

---- Officers of the, 738

---- Prison on board the, 739

---- Speed of the, 735

Dobell, Peter, Travels of, 283

Doctors in Siberian towns, 619

Doctrine of the _Scoptsi_, 205

Doctrines of the Russian, Roman, and English Churches, 754

Dogs of Kamchatka, 636

---- used by Gilyaks and Goldi, 600

---- Yakute, Breeding of, 304

Dostoyeffsky’s “Buried Alive” and political prisoners, 384

_Douga_, Description of the, 137

Dress of Gilyaks in winter, 597

---- of penal colonists at Vladivostock, 728

---- of the Samoyedes, 99

---- of the Yakutes, 302

---- The _Mala-Russia_, 250

Drink, Aborigines’ love of, 102

---- and its follies, 225

---- Madness through, 229

---- Murder under influence of, 155

Drivers, Buriats as, 356

Drunkards exiled by Russian villagers, 34

Drunkenness: Alcohol and _vodka_, 544

---- Arrests for, Number of, 545

---- as a cause of crime, 29

---- at social leave-taking, 118

---- Comparison of Russian with English, 544

---- Effect on trade, 627-30

---- of gold-miners, 225

---- of _yemstchik_, 252

---- on board the _Zeya_, 506

Dubininskaya, Arrival at, 692

Dui coal-mines, 81

---- _Plète_ in prison at, 653

---- Prison food at, 656
Officers at, 660

---- Prisons at, 652

---- Scriptures for, 660

_Dukhobortsi_, Sect of, 760

Dutch explorers, 766

Duty of Priests, Treatise on the, 181-2

Dwellings of the Manchu, 549

---- Yakutes’, 500

Eagles tamed by Kirghese, 189

Earthquakes in Kamchatka, 635

Eastern and Western Siberia, 51, 188

---- Greek, and Russian Church, Distinction between, 162

Ecclesiastical discipline, 175

_Echo_ on exiles’ march, 415

Eden, C. H., on quicksilver, 410

Education in Russia, Cost of, 719
Subjects of study, 720

---- in Western Siberia, 150

---- of exiles, 32

---- clerical, at Blagovestchensk, 523

Ekaterineburg, Englishmen at, 25

---- Prisoners, Money allowance to, 78

---- Railway to, 17

---- Town of, 25

---- Transport of exiles to, 43

Ekaterino-Nicolsk, Distribution of Scriptures at, 538

---- Garden at, 537

“Elizabeth, Story of,” by Madame de Cottin, 379-83

Elk, Hunting of the, 209

Emeralds of the Odon Tchelon mountain, 407

Emery, Mr. Enoch, 614

Employment of prisoners in ship-yards, 420

Engineering firm at Tiumen, 27

Engines, Fire, 573

English and Russian drunkenness compared, 544

---- books at Nikolaefsk, 629

---- graves at Selenginsk, 319

---- mission to Buriats, Story of the, 318

---- newspaper accounts of exiles’ passage, 45

---- suspected at Petersburg, 329

Englishmen at Ekaterineburg, 25

“Equipage,” Description of an, 439

Erdmann, Admiral, Governor of Vladivostock, 717

---- Madame, Introduction to, 717

Erman on the valley of the Lena, 284

Escape of prisoners at Kara, 465

Étape prisons, 44, 69, 616

---- Number of soldiers employed for, 667

Ethnography in Kasan government, 14

---- of Alexandreffsky prisoners, 246

---- of Russia in Asia, 19, 52

---- of Russian and Chinese empires, 206

---- of Tobolsk province, 98

Europe and Asia, Frontier of, 18

---- Weather in crossing, 24

Exchange of money, 731

Exchanging names and punishments, 75

Excitement at Petersburg, 328

Exile convict servants, 730

---- life, Author’s farewell and impressions of, 726-8

Exiles accompanied by wives, 36

---- as colonists, 451

---- bribing guards, 39

---- Buriats’ attitude towards, 40

---- Classification of, 29, 33

---- Correspondence, 38

---- Crimes of, 33

---- Deportation, Localities of, 37
Modern plan of, 42

---- destination, Walking to, 44

---- Distribution of, 43

---- Education of, 32

---- Étape prisons for, 44

---- for dissent, 34

---- Fund for, at Moscow, 43

---- Gilyaks’ attitude towards, 40

---- in Kansk, 32

---- Lemke on treatment of, 413

---- March of, _Echo_ on, 415

---- Marriage rites of, 35

---- Number of, 32, 39

---- on the march, 48

---- Passage of, English newspapers on, 45

---- passing through Tiumen, 395

---- _Perisylnie_ prisons for, 44

---- Political:
_Contemporary Review_ on, 413
Whyte, Mr., on number of, 394

---- Presents to, 42

---- Proportion condemned to hard labour, 37

---- _Raskolnik_, 32

---- receiving the _plète_, 35

---- Réclus, M., on the first, 31

---- Release, A, 38

---- Religious creed of, 29

---- Religious scruples respected, 460

---- Returned, Number of, 729

---- route, _viâ_ Suez Canal, 44

---- Runaways, Capture of, 40

---- Sentences of, 35

---- Social ties of, 41

---- Transport by barge and rail, 29, 42, 43

Expedition of Chernigovsky on the Amur, 492

---- of Khabarof, 490

---- of Pashkof, 492

---- of Poyarkof, 490

---- of Stepanof, 491

Explorations, Early, by sea and land, 766

---- of Nordenskiöld, 51, 107, 292

---- Scientific, in Siberia, 768

Export of furs from Siberia, 295

Exports at Vladivostock, 714

---- Chinese, into Russia, 341

---- from Siberia, 341

---- Probable future of, 105

Extravagance of gold-miners, 225

“Fabric” work, 82

Fair at Nijni Novgorod, 12

---- on the River Bankova, 488

Fanatical sects, 758

Fasting of clergy, 177

Fasting of prisoners, 79

Fauna of Chukchee coast, 643

---- of Sakhalin, 649

---- of the Primorsk, 565

Feast of mutton by Buriats, 367

Female prisoners at Kara, 467-8

Ferry, A Siberian, 139

Fertility of Tobolsk, 104

Finland: Grant of Bible Society, 3

---- Prisons in, 63

Finnish colonies, Transport of prisoners to, 131

---- pamphlets, Gift of, 53

Finns at Ruschkova, 5

Finsch, Dr., in Akmolinsk, 159
in Semipolatinsk, 159

Fire at Irkutsk, 253

---- at Perm, 16

---- engines, 573

Fires due to incendiarism, 269

Fish eaten by Gilyaks, 596

---- Gilyak mode of catching, 598

---- in Lake Khanka, 679

---- in Primorsk, Price of, 569

---- in River Sungacha, 679

---- in River Ussuri, 679

---- in the Anadir, 640

---- Manchurian method of catching, 555

---- of Lake Baikal, 312

---- of the Yenesei, 201

---- on the Lower Amur, 581

---- pie a Siberian luxury, 432

---- skin coat, 597

---- trade at Nikolaefsk, 628

Fisheries of the Obi and Taz, 123

Fishing in Manchuria, Method of, 555

---- boat of the Manchu, 555

Fleas and vermin in prisons, 363

Fleet, Siberian:
Officers, Pay of, 734
Sailors, Clothing of, 736
---- Food of, 736
---- Pay of, 734
---- Religious professions of, 741

Flight of inhabitants from Irkutsk fire, 257

Flogging prisoners, Andreoli on, 93

---- Goryantchikoff on, 654

Flood at Blagovestchensk, 532

Flooding of the Yenesei, 198, 219

Flora at Kansk, 239

---- between Tomsk and Barnaul, 149

---- in Kamchatka, 636

---- in neighbourhood of Chita, 404

---- in private houses, 231

---- of Chukchee country, 644

---- of Lake Baikal vicinity, 315

---- of North-east Siberia, 645

---- of Sakhalin, 649

---- of the Primorsk, 565

---- of the Upper Amur, 517

---- of the Yenesei, 219

Flour sold at Nikolaefsk, 569

Flowers at Khabarofka, 579

Food of Cossacks, 682-3

---- of Gilyaks, 596

---- of miners, 419

---- of natives at Sakhalin, 650

---- of prisoners, 78, 276, 453, 656
Cost of, 80
Difficulty in procuring, 659
Horseflesh reported as, 746

---- of sailors in Siberian fleet, 736

Forçats, Classification of, 449

---- Escape of, 466

---- Meaning of, 449

Forests near Krasnoiarsk, 220

---- of Yeneseisk, 200

Formation of the Shilka River, 482

Fort of Anadirsk, 640

Fortress of Sibir, 110

Fortunes of gold-miners, 226

Foundation of Krasnoiarsk, 112

---- of Mariinsk, 585

---- of Nikolaefsk, 615

---- of Russian Church, 751

---- of town of Yakutsk, 112, 281

Foxes, Hunting of, 209

Franklin, Sir John, and his “equipage,” 439

Free colonists, Privileges of, 698

---- school at Vladivostock, 722

Freedom of convicts at Kara, 448

Frontier of Europe and Asia, 18

Frozen butchers’ meat, 265

Fruit at Vladivostock, 690

---- in Kamchatka, 636

---- on Lower Amur, 583

---- Siberian, 149

Fuel, _Argols_ used as, 368

Fugitives, Corean, 714

Furniture of Siberian prisons, 71

---- of Yakutes’ houses, 301

Furs from Siberia, Export of, 295

Gambling, Effects on trade, 627

---- of Russians, 119

Game, Abundance of, 696

Garden at Ekaterino-Nicolsk, 537

---- at Vladivostock, 717

Gardening by prisoners, 248

_Gaulois_ on number of political prisoners, 396

Gems in neighbourhood of Nertchinsk, 407

---- in Trans-Baikal province, 378

_General Korsakoff_, On board the, 314

“Géographie Universelle” of M. Réclus, 631

Geological Museum at Barnaul, 157

Gilyaks, Amusements of the, 602

---- attitude towards exiles, 40

---- Bears, Veneration for, 606, 608

---- Betrothal of, 601

---- Children of, 595

---- Country, Extent of, 594

---- Dead, Treatment of the, 611

---- Dogs used by, 600

---- dress in winter, 597

---- Etymology, 593

---- Family of, 603

---- Fish eaten by, 596

---- Fishing, 598

---- Food of, 596

---- Foreign relationships, 602

---- habitations on Amur, 591

---- Habits of, 599

---- Hotsprings at village of, 588

---- Idols of, 606

---- Mission schools for, 604

---- Missionaries to the, 612-66

---- Occupation of, 598

---- Polygamy among, 601

---- Population, 594

---- Religion of, 609

---- Shamanism, 609

---- Stature of, 594

---- Superstitions of, 605

---- Tigers, Fear of, 606

---- Villages of the, 593

---- Winter habitations of, 595

---- Women, Estimation of, 601

Ginseng of Manchuria, 691

---- on Upper Ussuri, Plantations of, 566

Girls’ Institute at Vladivostock, 721

Glaisher, Mr., Introductions from, 10

---- Meteorological instruments, 147

Gluttony of the Yakutes, 301, 307

Goats of the Kirghese, 26

Goitre, Siberians afflicted with, 285

Gold deposits, 213

---- digging, 214

---- found in the Trans-Baikal province, 378, 428

---- in the Primorsk, 583

---- in the Za-Baikal, 462

---- in Yakutsk, 295

---- mine, The “Archangel Gabriel,” 218

---- miners at Irkutsk, 264
Drunkenness of, 225
Extravagance of, 225

---- mines, 223
Beverages for workmen, 224
Subterranean work of, 216
Wages at, 223
(_See also_ “Mines”)

---- mining, Season for, 462

---- Prospecting party, A, 213

---- Russian, 211

---- seekers, 212-13

---- washing, 477, 583

Goldi, Appearance of, 583

---- Baptisms of, 674

---- Birds known to, 600

---- boats, 600

---- Customs of, 672

---- Dogs, Use of, 600

---- language, 604

---- lexicon, 604

---- Missionary to, 671

---- Number of, 672

---- Photograph of, 674

---- Physiognomy of, 672

---- Polygamy among, 601

---- weddings, 601, 674

---- wives, Price of, 601, 674

---- women, Estimation of, 601

Gordon, Peter, Travels of, 284

Goryantchikoff on flogging of prisoners, 654

Gospels translated by Archdeacon of Khabarofka, 673

_Gostinnoi Dvor_, or Bazaar, at Tomsk, 128

Government allowance to Commandant of Kara, 474

Government buildings at Aigun, 557

---- establishments at Blagovestchensk, 526

---- grant to Vladivostock Girls’ Institute, 721

“Governments” in Siberia, 50

Governor of a province, 51

---- of Tobolsk, 113

Governors-General, 51

---- Houses of, 192

Granite rocks on the Shilka, 487

Graves of English missionaries at Selenginsk, 319

Greek Church, Penance in, 169
Relation of, to English Church, 181

---- Russian, and Eastern Church, Distinction between, 162

Guards bribed by exiles, 39

Habitations of Buriats, 366

---- of Gilyaks, 591-5

---- of Koriaks, 641

Habits of Gilyaks, 599

Hakodate to Yokohama, 743

Harbour of Vladivostock, 712

Hard-labour prisons at Tobolsk, 70, 82

---- of exiles, Proportion condemned to, 37

Hardships of gold-miners, 216

---- of _isvostchiks_, 627

Harness of Siberian horses, 137

---- The _douga_, 137

Head-dress of Buriat women, 365

---- of Tatar women, 58

Hearthrugs for tarantass travelling, 136

Heathen rites at Kasan, 13

Hellman, Miss Alba, 5

---- Gift of pamphlets by, 53

_Helsingfors Dagblad_, Author’s Bothnian tour in the, 540

Herbaceous plants in the Lower Primorsk, 566

Hertzen, Alex., on political prisoners, 380

High school at Vladivostock, 719

Hill, Mr., on Buriat missions, 375

---- on the Lena, 284

---- Travels of, 230

History of the Amur, 489

---- of the Russian Church, 751

Holy Oil in Church service, 169

Holy Orders in the Russian Church, 166
Scarcity of candidates, 171

---- Unction, Office of the, 169-70

Honesty of the Ostjaks, 102

---- of the Samoyedes, 102

Horns of the reindeer, 209

Horse-eating by the Yakutes, 301

---- flesh reported as food for prisoners, 746

Horses, Changing of, 140

---- Harness of, 137

---- Orochons’, 508

---- Shoeing of, 232

---- Siberian, 123

---- Yakutes’ treatment of, 308

Hospital at Alexandreffsky, 249

---- at Barnaul, 153

---- at gold-mine, 223

---- at Irkutsk, Books for, 276

---- at Kara, 471

---- at Tagil, 24

---- at Tomsk, 229

Hospitality at Bogotol, 194

---- at Krasnoiarsk, 232

---- in Siberia, 353, 431

---- of Commandant at Kara, 480

---- of Kamchatdales, 639

Hospitals at Nikolaefsk, 617

---- at Vladivostock, 617

---- Impressions of, 618

Hotel at Irkutsk, 254

---- at Krasnoiarsk, 228

---- Siberian, Method of dining, 431

Hot-springs at Gilyak village, 588

Hours of labour at a gold-mine, 224

Houses at Kozloffskaya, 671

---- at Krasnoiarsk, 230

---- at Maimatchin, 339

---- Flora in, 231

---- of Buriats, 366

---- of Chinese, 716

---- of Coreans, 715

---- of Cossacks, 683

---- of Gilyaks, 595

---- of Governors-General, 192

---- of Kamchatdales, 639

---- of Manchu, 550

---- of Siberians, 190

---- of Yakutes, 301

Howard Association Report, Mistake of Mr. Tallack in, 745

Howorth, Mr. on Daurians, 548

---- on the Manchu, 548

---- on the Samoyedes, 98

Hunting by the Orochons, 509

---- Eagles trained for, 189

---- Methods of, 207

---- of foxes, 209

---- the elk, 209

Idols, Gilyak, 606

---- of the Yurak-Samoyedes, 103

---- Tchuvash and Tcheremisi, 14

Ignatoff, Mr., at Tiumen, 29

---- Influence of, 118-60

Ikons, Worship of, 331

Image-worship, 164

Immorality, Effects on trade, 627

Importation of tea into Russia, 325

Imports at Vladivostock, 714

---- of the Primorsk, 570

Impressions of exile life, 726-8

Incendiarism in Siberia, 269

Income of a _tayoshnik_, 217

Indictment of a prisoner, 75

Industrial school for boys at Vladivostock, 723

Influence of the Anglo-Chinese war, 501

---- of the Crimean war, 497

Ingoda, Collins’s descent, 482

---- Gold-mines on the, 212

_Ingoda_ steamer on the Amur, 510

Inhabitants of the Primorsk, 567

---- of Vladivostock, 713

Inmates of Irkutsk prison, 275

Innokente, St., Shrine of, 274

Inquisitiveness about Author, 249

Inspection of the _Djiguitt_, 741

Inspector of schools of Eastern Siberia, 11

Institute for girls, 721

Institution for prisoners’ children at Tomsk, 130

Institutions for training schoolmasters, 278

Instruments, Meteorological, 147

Insubordination of prisoners, 393

Interpreter a necessity, 4

---- Joined by, 13

---- Parting with, 439

Introductions, Numbers of, 11

Invasion of Cossacks opposed by Buriats, 281

Irkutsk, Alcoholic liquors at, 265

---- Archbishop of, Interview sought, 274

---- Bible Society at, 268

---- Books at, Stock of, 280

---- Churches, 265

---- Decocq’s hotel at, 254

---- Deputy-Governor of, 267

---- Diocese, Churches of, 274

---- Distress, Relief of, 269

---- on fire, 253
Firemen’s arrangements, 259
Flight of inhabitants, 257
Museum burnt, 268
Origin, Supposed, 269
Procession at, 260
Property destroyed, 263
Provisions, Procuring, after the fire, 309
Ruins of the city, 267
Salvage, Articles of, 258
Spectacle of burning city, 260-62

---- Founding of city, 264

---- Gold-miners, Resort for, 264

---- hospital, 268

---- Larsen, Mr., Introduction to, 265

---- Limit (Proposed) of travel, 253

---- Markets at, 265

---- prison:
Director, Pay of, 277
Food for hospital and, 276
Inmates of, 275
Library of, 77

---- prisoners:
Books for, 276-7
Money allowed to, 276

---- Provisions at, 265

---- Roads of, 139

---- School at, 278

---- Shrine of St. Innokente, 274

---- _Usine_ at, 268

---- Winter at, 264

Iron in the valley of the Tom, 104

---- ore in Yenesei valley, 210

---- Smelting of, by Yakutes, 304

---- Tons cast in 1879, 156

---- works at Petrovsky Zavod, 355

Irons on prisoners, 85, 248, 421-63

_Irtish_, barge for prisoners, 120

---- Tract distribution on the, 121

Island of Sakhalin, 648

Ismailoff, Gen., Deputy-Governor of Irkutsk, 267

Ismailoff, Gen., Books left with, 279

_Ispravniks_, 29, 51, 195, 234

---- Pay of, 235

_Isvostchiks_, Hardships of, 627

Itinerary round the world, 770

Jail at Tomsk, 128

Japan, Russian Missions in, 358

Jews at Kara, 455

---- at Tiumen, 460

Journal, A priest’s, 174

Journey by rail from Petersburg to Moscow, 25

---- of an exile from Petersburg to Tobolsk, 42

---- of Author, Extent of, 770
Object of, 1

---- of 2,670 miles by rail, 24

---- to Alexandreffsky, 243

---- to Barnaul, 148

Journeys of previous travellers, 282

Juchova, Price of provisions at, 120

Judges of the Peace, 73

Junks of the Chinese, 716

Jury, Trial by, 73

Kachugskoe, Width of Lena at, 287

Kama River, 16

---- Steamers on the, 29

Kamchatdales, Appearance of, 637

---- Hospitality of, 639

---- Houses of, 639

---- Number of, 638

Kamchatka, Anadir River, 639

---- Area of, 634

---- Billings, Joseph, on, 631

---- Burney, Capt., on, 631

---- Bush, Mr., on, 633

---- Capital of, 638

---- Climate of, 635

---- De Lesseps on, 631

---- Dogs of, 636

---- Earthquakes in, 635

---- Flora of, 636

---- Fruit in, 636

---- Language of, 637

---- Locality of, 630

---- Sledging in, 637

---- Vegetables of, 645

---- Volcanoes in, 635

---- Wildfowl of, 637

Kamen Ruiboloff, Arrival at, 686

Kansk, Bible Society and, 238

---- Climate of, 240

---- Crime in district of, 235-6

---- Exiles in, 32

---- Flora of, 239

---- Ispravnik of, 234

---- Priests at, 236

---- Prison at, 235

---- School at, 237

Kara, Barracks for Cossacks in summer, 452

---- Commandant, Government allowance to, 474
Hospitality of, 480
Namesday of, 479
Salary of, 461

---- Gold-washing at, 477

---- Hospitals at, 471

---- Murderers sent to, 37

---- Police-master at, 485

---- prison:
Cells in, 469
Diet, Scale of, 453
Photography by priest, 458
Plète at, 464

---- Prisoners at:
Aged, 470
Branding abolished, 464
Chaplain for, 458
Classification of, 450
Clothing of, 455
Crimes of, 448
Female, 467-8
Forçats classification, 449
---- Escape of, 466
Freedom of, 448
Irons on, 85, 463
Jewish, 455
Labour of, 463-4
Money from friends for, 83
Number of, 445
Politicals, 396
Provisions for, Cost of, 80
Scurvy among, 472
Sentences of, 450
_Starostas_ among, 454
Work of, 446

---- Reputation of, unenviable, 473

---- Sea, Wiggins on the, 51, 768

---- Storehouse at, 455

Kasan, Founding of city, 57

---- government, Ethnography, 14
Tatars in the, 15

---- Heathen rites at, 13

---- Seminary at, 14

Kazakevich, Admiral, 500

Kaznakoff, Governor-General, 185

Khabarof’s expedition on the Amur 490

Khabarofka, Author’s dilemma, 574

---- Bank at, 578

---- Flowers at, 579

---- Military post at, 577

---- Musical instruments at, 552

---- Plusnin, merchant, 668

---- Post-office at, 578

---- Priest, Visit to, 673-7

---- Sable-skins at, Sale of, 577

---- Scriptures for, 667

---- Silver money at, 715

---- Temperature of, 579

---- Tichmeneff, General, and the port, 666

---- Tigers at, 689

---- Town, Situation of, 577

---- Trees at, 579

Khamenoff, General, and his footman, 273

Khanka Lake, Area of, 685

---- Depth of, 685

---- District of, 689
Climate of, 690
Medicinal plants of, 691

---- Fish of, 679

---- Winds on, 686

Kiakhta cathedral, 332

---- Commerce of, 324

---- Mongolian cavalry in, 326

---- Prison at, 327

Kirghese, Atkinson on the, 159

---- Costumes of the, 158

---- Eagles used by the, 189

---- goats, 26

---- _Koumis_, a beverage of the, 159

Kizi Lake, Area of, 585

_Knout_ abolished, 85, 91

---- “A German Nobleman” on the, 380

---- Andreoli, M., on the, 91

---- De Lagny on the, 380

Knox, Mr., on the Shilka, 441

“K., O.” on number of exiles in 1876, 39

---- on “Russia and England,” 748

Koecher, Mr., at Troitzkosavsk, 323

Koriaks, Bread of, 642

---- Character of, 640

---- Deer of the, 642

---- Dialect of the, 640

---- Habitations of the, 641

---- Language of the, 647

---- Number of the, 639

---- Sick and Aged, Treatment of, 643

---- Wandering, 642

_Koumis_, Love of Kirghese for, 159

Kozloffskaya, Church at, 670

---- Houses at, 671

---- Priest at, 670

Krasnoiarsk, Asylum at, 229

---- Beggars at, 228

---- Catechist at, 229

---- Cathedral at, 230

---- Forest near, 220

---- Founding of, 112

---- Gold-mining district of, 212

---- Hospitality at, 232

---- Hotel at, 228

---- Houses at, 230

---- Lutheran chapel at, 228

---- Peacock, Dr., of, 212

---- _Perisylnie_ prison at, 229

---- Province of, Scriptures for, 233

---- “Rotten Row” of, 231

---- Scriptures at, Depôt for sale of, 232

---- Town of, 227

Krasnorechinska, Bible of priest at, 195

Kruskopf, M. Emile, 540

Kureika River, _Thames_ laid up in the, 103

_Kvas_ at Tomsk, 224

Labour, Hours of, in mines, 423

---- of convicts compared with English, 662

---- of prisoners, 80, 114, 463-4, 658

Lagny, De, on prisoners, 380

Lakes of Sakhalin, 649

---- of the Yeneseisk province, 200

Lama, Conversion of a, 521

Lamas, 348

---- forbidden to take life, 372

---- respected by Buriats, 371

Lamasery for Buriats, 335-71

Land at Barnaul, Cost of, 158

Landscape scenery of Siberia, 189

Language of Aïnos, 650

---- of Chukchees, 647

---- of Goldi, 604

---- of Kamchatka, 637

---- of Koriaks, 647

---- of Manchu, 604

---- of Manyargs, 604

---- of Orochons, 604

---- of Russians, 441

---- of Yakutes, 305

Larsen, Mr., Introduction to, 265

Latham on the Turkish race, 206

---- on population of Russia and China, 206

---- on “Races of Russian Empire,” 57

Lavra monastery, 177-8

Law, Courts of, Russian and Siberian, 73

Lead, Scarcity of, 156

Leave-taking in Siberia, 353

Ledyard, John, Travels of, 283

Lemke on treatment of political exiles, 413

Lemmings, 644

Lena River, 19

---- as an outlet, 51

---- at Kachugskoe, Width of, 287

---- Boats on the, 285

---- Course of the, 286

---- Gold-mines, 211

---- Mammoth on the, 288

---- Merchandise on the, 285

---- Rhinoceros on the, 289

---- Travellers on the, 282

---- Tributaries of the, 288

_Lena_ rounding Cape Cheliuskin, 292

Length of the Ussuri, 679

Lesseps, De, on Kamchatka, 631

---- Travels in Siberia, 282

Letters concerning Scripture distribution, 401-2

---- posted at Verchne-Udinsk, 354

Lexicon, Goldi, 604

Library at Irkutsk prison, 77

Lichatcheff’s Museum of Bulgarian Antiquities, 13

“Little” Russians as colonists, 32

Littoral, Russian, Number of Chinese in, 714

Liturgy of Russian Church, 166

Location of prisons, 69

Lochwitzky, M., Books to, 270

---- Interview with, 275

Lodging at post-houses, 141

Loss of pocket-book, 692

Love of Russians for tea, 534

Lutheran chapel at Krasnoiarsk, 228

---- church at Vladivostock, 717

Machine for praying to Buddha, 373

Madhouses exceptional in Primorsk, 618

Madness from drink at Tomsk, 229

Maimatchin, Buddhist temple, 344

---- Chinese dinner at, 345
Merchant at, 339

---- Clerks at, 340

---- Houses at, 339

---- Plays at, Licentious, 344

---- Population of, 337

---- Streets of, 339

_Mala-Russia_ costume, 250

Malachite in copper-mine, 21

Maladies of the Primorsk, 571

Mammalia inhabiting Siberia, 188

Mammoth remains, 288

Manchu boats, 554-5

---- carts, 552

---- Cattle of the, 550

---- Dwellings of the, 549-50

---- guests, Reception of, 553

---- Howorth, Mr., on the, 548

---- language, 604

---- people, 207

---- shop, 553

---- temples, 549

Manchuria, Boundary of, 547

---- Costume of the men, 551

---- Ginseng of, 691

---- Southern, Deer in, 696

---- Town of, 550

Manchurian archers, 556

---- dead, Treatment of the, 554

---- fishing, Method of, 555

---- sable-skins, 696

Manufactories at Telma, 242

---- in Siberia, 241

Manyargs, Language of the, 604

---- on Middle Amur, 507

Manzas, Robberies by, 715

Mariinsk, Foundation of, 585

---- Scripture distribution at, 665

Market at Troitzkosavsk, 327

Markets at Irkutsk, 265

Markova, Scenery at, 684

Marriage compulsory on clergy, 524

---- customs of Chukchees, 643
of the Ostjaks, 126

---- rites of exiles, 35

Marriage services, 168

Martyrdom of a missionary, 612

Materialism in Siberia, 705

Mayor of Tiumen, 27

Mayors of Siberian towns, 716

Meals on board a steamer, 513

Meat at Irkutsk, Cheapness of, 265

---- in the Middle Primorsk, Cost of, 568

Medicine, Author’s stock of, 703

---- Plants for, 691

Medvedsky, School at, 150

Merchandise on the Lena, 285

Merchant, Chinese, 339

---- Russian, Specimen of a, 118

Merchants’ stores at Blagovestchensk, 526

Metals in the Za-Baikal, 378

----- Precious, 153, 211

Meteorological instruments, 147

---- observatory at Nertchinsk, 425

Meteorology of Blagovestchensk, 532

Metropolitan of Moscow, 10

Mexican dollars at Khabarofka, 715

Mica and gold at Yakutsk, 295

Middle Primorsk, Area of, 568

Mikhailofsky, Dancing at, 622

Miles travelled by Author, 24, 770

Military exemptions, 720

---- hospitals at Nikolaefsk, 617

---- post at Khabarofka, 577

Mills at Vladivostock, 709

Mine, Copper, Descent of a, 21, 138

---- Magnetic iron, 22

Mineral springs on the Shilka, 488

Minerals in Altai mountains, 104

---- of the Yeneseisk province, 240

Miners, Gold:
Beverages of, 224
Drunkenness of, 225
Extravagance of, 225
Food of, 419
Wages of, 223

---- Testimonies from, 418

---- Wiggins, Captain, on, 225

Mines at Kara:
Female prisoners at, 467-8
Gold-washing at, 477
Work, Leaving off, 464

---- at Nertchinsk, 30
Inaccessibility of, 412

---- at Nijni Tagilsk, 20

---- Coal, at Vladivostock, 678

---- Gold, 211
“Archangel Gabriel,” The, 218
Assaying, 223
Barracks at, 223
Districts of, 211-12
Hospital at, 223
Ingoda River, 212
Krasnoiarsk district, 212
Manager of, 226
Mohammedans at, 224
Nertcha River, 212
Olekma River, 212
Onon River, 212
Proprietors of, 226
Registration of, 217
Stables at, 223
Washing the gold, 222
Work, Hours of, 224
Working the metal, 221

---- in Altai district, 156

---- Manganese iron ore, 22

---- Private, 81

---- Punishment in the, 456

---- “Quicksilver,” 411
Nertchinsk, Baron R[osen] on, 409
---- _Newcastle Daily Chronicle_ on, 409
---- None heard of at, 409
_Sheffield Daily Telegraph_ on, 747

---- Silver:
Altai region, 411
Collins’s descent of, 412
Food at, 419
Formation of, 422
Labour, Hours of, 423
Rozguildieff, Cruelty of, 419
Women _not_ working in, 417

---- Unhealthy fumes reported, 408

---- Work in, 82

Mining district, Principal centre of, 420

---- Gold, Season for, 462

Minister of the Interior, 9

“Miracle” at Troitzkosavsk, 330

Miraculous ikons, 331

Misadventures of tarantass travelling, 193

Misrepresentations of newspapers, 744-5

---- of various writers, 379-83, 413, 416-68, 744

Mission at Blagovestchensk, 518-19

---- converts, Charge of bribery, 676

---- Conversion of a lama, 521

---- English at Selenginsk, Story of the, 318-20

---- Offertories, 677

---- school at Bolan, 604
at Troitzka, 604

---- schools for Gilyaks, 604

---- to Aïnos, 650

---- to Burials, 357
Atkinson, Mr., on, 375
Hill, Mr., on, 375

---- to Gilyaks, 612-65

---- to Goldi, 671-4

---- to Japanese, 358

Missionaries, Pay of, 676

Missionary collections at church doors, 520

---- Martyrdom of a, 612

Missions: Results of Orthodox Missionary Society’s work, 520

Model Prison at Petersburg, 64

Mohammedan mosques in Tatar villages, 59

---- workmen at gold-mines, 224

Molokans, 386

---- Doctrines of the, 528

---- Manner of living, 529

Monasteries, 163

---- Clergy of, 176

---- Three kinds of, 177

Monastery for Buriat priests, 335

Monastic life at Yuryef, 178

Money allowance to prisoners at Irkutsk, 276

---- exchanged, 731

---- Prisoners’, 78

---- received by prisoners from friends, 83

---- Silver, Chinese demand, 715

---- taken by Author, 578

---- Tea used as an equivalent for, 343

Mongolian camels, Caravan route by, 351

---- cavalry in Kiakhta, 326

---- frontier, Birds on, 357
Herds of camels on, 357

---- race, Dr. Latham on the, 206

---- route, Travellers on the, 349

---- salutation, Method of, 356

---- sheep, 552

Morality at Vladivostock, 723

Moscow fund for exiles, 43

---- Metropolitans of, 10, 586

---- Stay at, 12

Mosques, Mohammedan, in Tatar villages, 59

Mosquitoes on Sungacha, 684, 710

Mountain of Odon Tchelon, 407

---- Volcanic, 562

Mountains, Altai range of, 19

---- of Sakhalin, 649

---- Sikhota-Alin, 561, 669

---- Ural, 17

Muravieff, Count, Governor of Eastern Siberia, 496

Murder at Nikolaefsk, 655

---- Trial for, 74

---- under influence of drink, 155

Murderers sent to Kara, 37

Museum at Irkutsk destroyed, 268

---- of Bulgarian Antiquities, 13

---- of Geology at Barnaul, 157

Music, Church, 165

Musical instruments at Khabarofka, 552

Mutton, Russian dislike of, 628

---- the staple feast of Buriats, 367

Narim, Population of, 123

Native belief in Shamanism, 405

Natives of Sakhalin, Food of, 650

Naval hospitals at Vladivostock, 617

Navigation, Early, of Siberia, 767

---- of Kara Sea by Wiggins, 768

Needs of the Russian Church, 182

Nertcha, Gold-mines on the, 212

Nertchinsk, Climate of, 425
Atkinson, Mr., on, 425

---- Cochrane’s visit to, 412

---- Gems in neighbourhood, 407

---- Meteorological observatory at, 425

---- Mines, Mr. Collins’s visit to, 412-17
Inaccessibility of, 412

---- Mining region of, 30

---- Prison at, 70

---- Prisoners’ work at, 446

---- “Quicksilver”-mines:
Baron R[osen] on, 409
None heard of at, 409

---- Silver-mines at, 411

---- Situation of, 430

---- Temperature of, 426

---- Tobacco cultivation at, 425

---- Treaties at, 324, 428

---- Vegetation at, 426

_Newcastle Daily Chronicle_ on “Quicksilver”-mines, 409

Newspapers, English:
Account of exiles’ passage in, 45
Misrepresentations of, 744

Nihilists, “Black,” 34

---- Opinions concerning, 328

---- Transport, Mode of, 46

Nijni Novgorod, Fair at, 12
Steamboat to Perm, 16
Transport of exiles to, 43

---- Tagilsk, Copper-mine at, 138
Mines and works at, 20

---- Udinsk, Awaking a Russian at, 241
Prison at, 241

Nikolaefsk, Amusements at, 621

---- Andreyeff, M., of, 615

---- Author’s religious services at, 725

---- Barracks at, 620

---- Birching criminals at, 89

---- Buildings at, 625

---- Church at, 624

---- Climate of, 563

---- Dinner at, 619

---- Emery, Mr. Enoch, of, 614

---- English books at, 629

---- Étape prison at, 616

---- Fish-trade of, 628

---- Flour sold at, 569

---- Foundation of, 615

---- Hospital at, 617
Government grant to, 617
Scriptures for, 617-66

---- Murder at, 655

---- Officers’ club at, 624

---- _Plète_ used at, 616

---- Police-station at, 624

---- Population of, 624

---- Prison, 615

---- Prisoners’ food at, 79
Preference for, 277

---- Rise of, 498

---- Salmon at, Cost of, 628

---- Scripture distribution at, 666

---- Service at, 619

---- Town, Aspect of, 624

---- Trade of, 625

---- Wages at, 590

Nikon, Patriarch, Revision of Church books by, 758

Ninagai tribe of Orochons, 507

Nordenskiöld, Discoveries of, 761

---- Explorations of, 51, 107, 292

_North China Herald_ on Sakhalin prisoners, 652-8

North-east passage to China attempted, 766

Novgorod, Transport of exiles to, 43

Nunneries of the Siberian Church, 163-79

Obdorsk, School at, 103, 150

Obi as an outlet for commerce, 51

---- Cattley, O., on trade, 108, 761

---- Commercial value of the, 103

---- district, Tundras of the, 105

---- Fisheries of the, 123

---- gulf, Capt. Wiggins in the, 106

---- Length of the, 19

---- Ostjaks on the, 124

---- Steamers on the, 29

---- Temperature of the, 50

---- Tract distribution on the, 184

Object of Author’s travel, 1

_Oblasts_ of Siberia, 50

_Obos_ of the Buriats, 405

Observance of the Sabbath by prisoners, 422-55

Observatory at Nertchinsk, 425

Occupation of Buriats, 369

---- of Gilyaks, 598

Odon Tchelon, Mountain of, 407

Offences by prisoners, 84

Offertories for Missions, 677

Office of the Holy Unction, 169-70

Officers’ club at Nikolaefsk, 624

---- in the army, Pay of, 668

---- of the _Djiguitt_, 738

---- of Dui prison, 660

---- of Siberian fleet, Pay of, 734

Oil, Holy, in Church service, 169

Okhotsk, Sea of, Whales in the, 631

Olekma gold-mines, 212

---- Sables of, 295

Omsk, Prison at, 70

---- School at, 150

Onkelon people, The, 647

Onon River, 482

---- Gold-mines on the, 212

_Onon_ steamboat, On board the, 669

Orders in Russian Church, 166

---- Lack of candidates for, 171

Ordinations in Russian Church, 166

Orenburg shawls, 26

---- Souvenirs from villages, 26

Orochons as hunters, 509

---- Horses of, 508

---- in Sakhalin, 649

---- Language of the, 604

---- Population of tribes, 507

---- Tents of, 509

---- Women’s hair, 508

Orthodox Missionary Society’s work, 520

Ostjaks and Tunguses, Resemblance between, 207

---- as fishermen, 123

---- Bows and arrows of the, 126

---- Honesty of, 102

---- Marriage customs of the, 126

---- on the Obi, 124

---- Wiggins, Capt., and the, 103

---- _Yourts_ of the, 124

_Ostrog_ prison, An, 69

Outdoor amusements of the Russians, 621

Pamphlets for distribution, 53

“Paris, Member for,” Author of, on Prisons, 380

---- on the mines, 413-62

---- on women miners, 468

Parishioners of the Russian Church, 163

Pashkof on the Amur, Expedition of, 492

Pashkova, Deserted village at, 671

Pay-day at a gold-mine, 225

---- of Cossacks, 682

Peace, Judges of the, 73

Peacock, Dr., on the current of the Yenesei, 197

---- visiting the gold-mine, 212

Peasantry, Russian--how they live, 698

Peasants on the River Zeya, 531

Penal colony at Kara, 70

---- at Vladivostock, 726

Penance in the Greek Church, 169

_Pericladnoi_ travelling, 135

_Perisylnie_ prison at Krasnoiarsk, 229

---- prisons, 44, 69

Perm, Fire at, 16

---- to Ekaterineburg by rail, 17

---- Transport of exiles to, 43

_Petchka_ at Alexandreffsky, 246

Petersburg, Arrival at, 9

---- English suspected at, 329

---- Excitement at, 328

---- Prisoners, Places of worship for, 65

---- Prisons of, 2

---- Sermons in, Number, 460

---- to Moscow by rail, 25

Petropavlovsk, 638

Petrovski, State prison at, 387

Photograph of Goldi Christians, 674

Photography at Alexandreffsky, 250

---- by Kara priest, 458

---- Russian, 434

Physiognomy of Buriats, 364

---- of Goldi, 672

Picture-worship, 164, 331

Pigs, Siberian, 188

Plantations of ginseng, 566

Plants, Herbaceous, in Lower Primorsk, 566

---- Medicinal, of Lake Khanka district, 691

Plays, at Maimatchin, 344

Pleasure-garden, Vladivostock, 717

Plète at Chita, 94

---- at Dui, 653

---- at Kara, 464

---- at Nikolaefsk, 616

---- Description of the, 90

---- Exiles receiving the, 35

---- used at three places only, 94

Plusnin, M., Business with, 668

Pocket-book, Loss of, 692

_Podkeedovate_, a Siberian custom, 353

_Podorojna_, A Crown, 143, 314

---- permit for posting, 134

Police-master at Kara, 485

---- of Siberian towns, 269

---- station at Nikolaefsk, 615-24

Political divisions in Siberia, 50

---- exiles:
_Contemporary Review_, 413
Lemke on treatment of, 413
Whyte on number of, 394

---- prisoners and Dostoyeffsky’s “Buried Alive,” 384
Author of “Member for Paris” on, 380

Polygamy among Gilyaks, 601

---- among Goldi, 601

Poor of Vladivostock, 717

---- house at Barnaul, 153

_Popoftschins_, Sect of, 759

Population of Aigun, 556

---- of Amur province, 543

---- of Upper Amur on Chinese bank, 506

---- of Barnaul, 152

---- of Buriats, 369

---- of China, 206

---- of Chita, 361

---- of Gilyak country, 594

---- of Maimatchin, 337

---- of Narim, 123

---- of Nikolaefsk, 624

---- of Orochons, 507

---- of Russia, 206

---- of Russia in Asia, 20

---- of Sakhalin, 649

---- of Siberia, Russian and aboriginal, 52

---- of Sophiisk, 585

---- of Surgut, 123

---- of the _Za-Baikal_ province, 400

---- of Tiumen, 27

---- of Tomsk, 127

---- of Verchne-Udinsk, 317

---- of Vladivostock, 712

---- of Yakutsk, 294

---- of Yeneseisk, 203

Possessions of Buriats, 369

Post, Russian and Chinese, 352

---- office at Khabarofka, 578

Postal communication, 52, 578

---- letter, A, 143

Posting--An “equipage,” 439

---- “Book for complaints,” 55

---- Distances between verst-posts, 436

---- in Siberia, 134

---- Official, 437

---- Post-houses, lodging at, 141
Tariff of, 141

---- Travelling, Manner of, 135

---- Wrong road, The, 144

Potatoes at Vladivostock, 690

Poyarkof’s expedition on the Amur, 490

Prayers, A Tatar at, 61

Praying-machine, Buddhist, 373

Preaching, Lack of, 459

Precious stones in neighbourhood of Nertchinsk, 407

Presents to exiles, 42

Price of meals on a steamer, 513

---- of tea in Russia, 325

Priest at Khabarofka, Visit to, 673-7

---- at Kozloffskaya, 670

---- at Krasnorechinska, Bible of, 195

---- at Vladivostock, 730

---- Journal of a, 174

Priests at Kansk, 236

---- Seminary for training, 523

---- Social disadvantages of, 173

---- Stipend of, 172

---- Treatise on the Duty of, 181-2

Primorsk, or Sea-coast province, 561

---- Bays in the, 562

---- Cattle in the, 697

---- Divisions of province, 567

---- Fauna of the, 565

---- Fish in the, Price of, 569

---- Flora of the, 565

---- Gold-washing in the, 583

---- Health of inhabitants, 571

---- Imports of, 570

---- Inhabitants of the, 567

---- Lower:
Climate of, 564
Herbaceous plants in, 566
Populated by Ussuri Cossacks, 568

---- Madhouses exceptional in, 618

---- Maladies of the, 571

---- Middle:
Area of, 568
Meat, Cost of, 568

---- Rivers in the, 562

---- Schools, Number of, 723

---- Scriptures distributed in, 703

---- Soldiers in the, 667

---- Taxes in the, 571

---- Trees in the, 566

---- Tribes in the, Number of, 567

---- Vaccination in the, 571

---- Volcanic mountains in the, 562

Prison affairs at Tomsk, 128

---- Ameliorating influence in, 77

---- at Åbo, 63

---- at Alexandreffsky, 70, 245
Amusements at, 83
Books for, 249
Director of, 244
Hospital at, 248

---- at Biisk, 133

---- at Blagovestchensk, 525

---- at Chita, 70
The “Black-cart” at, 362

---- at Dui, Officers of, 660

---- at Irkutsk:
Director’s pay, 277
Inmates of, 275
Library, 77

---- at Kansk, 235

---- at Kara, 70

---- at Kiakhta, 327

---- at Krasnoiarsk, 229

---- at Nijni Udinsk, 241

---- at Nikolaefsk, 615-16

---- at Omsk, 70

---- at Petrovski, 389

---- at Sakhalin, 70

---- at Schlüsselburg, 68

---- at Troitzkosavsk, 327

---- at Verchne-Udinsk, 317

---- at Wiborg, 63

---- Books in, 113

---- chaplains, 663

---- on board the _Djiguitt_, 739

---- ethnography, 246

---- food compared with English prison diet, 79

---- furniture, 71

---- gardening, 248

---- labour compared with English, 662

---- officials, Bribery of, 277

---- _Ostrog_, An, 69

---- Petersburg Model, 64
Bath-room in, 66
Chapel in, 67
Contraband articles in, 67
Dark cells in, 66

---- Russian, Account of a, 380

---- school at Tomsk, 128

---- Smuggling spirits into, 67, 317

---- _Starostas_, 454

---- statistics, 69

---- storehouse at Kara, 455

---- Tragedy in, 154

---- _Travaux forcés_, 113

---- work:
Cigarette-paper making, 247
Lack of, 247

Prisoners, Aged, 470

---- Asylum for children of, 77

---- Authors on, 379-88-94

---- Bail, 74

---- Barge, the _Irtish_, 120

---- Birching of, 89, 473

---- Books for, 276-7

---- Branding of, 464

---- Bribery by, 39

---- buying Scriptures, 121

---- Card-playing among, 388, 656

---- cells, 469, 525

---- chains, 154

---- changing destinations and names, 75

---- Chaplain for, 458

---- children, School for, 278

---- Classification of, 72, 450

---- Clothing of, 80, 455, 728

---- complaint, Causes of, 393

---- Courts, Judges, and modes of trial, 73

---- Crimes of, 448

---- descriptions taken, 76

---- Escape of, 465

---- Fasting of, 79

---- Female, 467-8

---- Flogging of, 654
Goryantchikoff on, 654

---- Food, 77-9, 82, 276, 453, 656
Cost of, 80
Difficulty in procuring, 659
Horseflesh reported as, 746

---- _Forçats_, 449-66

---- in irons, 85, 248, 421-63

---- in Yakutsk government, 37

---- Insubordination of, 393

---- Labour of, 80, 114, 463-4, 658

---- Money allowance to, 276
Received from friends, 83

---- Number at Alexandreffsky, 246
At Kara, 445
At Sakhalin, 652-3

---- offences, 84

---- Polish, 122, 390

---- Political, 396
Baron R[osen] on, 387
_Daily Telegraph_ on number of, 396
De Lagny on, 380
Deported to Trans-Baikal province, 377
Destination of, 37
_Gaulois_ on number of, 396
Lemke on, 413
Living to be earned, 398
Lodging of, 395
Number of, 394
---- in 1879, 396
Position of, 398
Present condition of, 390
Tiumen, Passing through, 395

---- preference for Nikolaefsk, 277

---- Punishment of, 84, 129, 421-3

---- Reformation doubtful, 664

---- Religious professions of, 72

---- Russian, Condition of, 64
English and, Comparison between numbers of, 478

---- Sabbath, Observance of, 455

---- Scurvy among, 472

---- seeing friends, 246

---- Sentences of, 450

---- shipyard at Sivakoff, 420
At Stretinsk, 420

---- _Starostas_ among, 454

---- Statistics concerning, 72

---- Sundays, Refusal to work, 422

---- ticket of indictment, 75

---- to Finnish colonies, 131

---- Treatment of, 728

---- Wives of, 388

---- work, 82, 446

---- Worship, Places of, 65

---- writing to friends, 84, 236

Prisons, Atmosphere of, 381

---- Author’s interest in, 1
Opinion on, 662

---- at Dui, 652

---- at Nertchinsk, 7

---- at Tobolsk, 70, 82

---- at Uleaborg, 41

---- Books for _Za-Baikal_, 400

---- Building of, 70

---- Étape, 44, 69, 667
Soldiers employed for, 667

---- Fleas and vermin in, 363

---- Furniture of, 71

---- Kinds of, 68

---- Local committees in connection with, 77

---- Location of, 69

---- _Perisylnie_, 44, 69

---- Petersburg, Visitation of, 2

---- Russian and Finnish, 63

Private mines, 81

Privileges to free colonists, 698

Procession at fire of Irkutsk, 260

Processions, Church, 174

“Prodigal Son” for distribution, 7

---- Hammering up the, 190, 238

Profession of an advocate, 582

Proprietors of gold-mines, 226

Protestant churches in Siberia, 726

Protestants in Siberia, 726

Protodiakonoff of Khabarofka, 673

Province, Governor of a, 51

Provisions aboard steamboats, 512

---- at Barnaul, Cost of, 158

---- at Blagovestchensk, Cost, 527

---- at Irkutsk, 265

---- at Juchova, Price of, 120

---- at Kara, Cost of, 80

---- at Surgut, Price of, 120

---- at Tobolsk, Cost of, 105

Punishment in the mines, 456

---- of prisoners, 84, 421

Quass (or _kvas_) at Tomsk, 224

---- for miners, 224

“Quicksilver”-mines, 409

---- Baron R[osen] on, 409

---- Eden, Mr., on, 410

---- _Newcastle Daily Chronicle_ on, 409

---- _Sheffield Daily Telegraph_, 747

---- Supposed deadly fumes, 412

“Races of Russian Empire,” by Dr. Latham, 57

Railway, A new line of, 17

---- journey of 2,670 miles, 24

---- Petersburg to Moscow by, 25

---- transport of exiles, 42

Railways in Russia, 25

Rain in the Primorsk, 565

Rapids of Angara River, 311

Rasdolnoi, Cockroaches at, 702

_Raskolnik_ exiles, 32

Rates for telegrams in Siberia, 522

Ravenstein on the Amur, 581

Réclus, M., “Géographie Universelle” of, 631

---- on the first exiles, 31

---- on the Yurak-Samoyedes, 103

Reformation of Russian Church, 753

Registers, Church, 174

Registration of gold-mines, 217

“Reign of Terror” described in _Daily Telegraph_, 45

Reindeer, Horns of, 209

---- riding, 306

---- taken in chase, 209

---- Yakutes’ use, in travelling, 306

Release of exile, 38

Religion of Buriats, 370

---- of Daurians, 549

---- of Gilyaks, 609

---- of prisoners, 72

---- of sailors, 741

Religious scruples of exiles respected, 460

---- services of Author at Vladivostock, 725

---- Tract Society in Russia, 705

Revision of Church books by the Patriarch Nikon, 758

Rhinoceros on the Lena, 289

Riches of the Demidoffs, 23

Riding in the _taiga_, 212

Ritual of Russian Church, 166

Rivers of Sakhalin, 649

---- in the Primorsk, 562

Roads of Irkutsk, 139

---- of Siberia, 51-2

---- in Yeneseisk, 139

Rob Roy cuisine, 145

Robberies by the Manzas, 715

Rooms in Siberian houses, 192

_Rooski Rabotchi_ for distribution, 7

---- Subscribers to, 184

Rosaries, Russian and Roman, 61

R[osen], Baron, on “quicksilver”-mines, 409

---- on political prisoners, 387

---- on situation of Chita, 425

“Rotten Row” of Krasnoiarsk, 231

Roumanian grant of Bible Soc., 3

Route of exiles _viâ_ Suez Canal, 44

---- _viâ_ the Shilka, 52

Routes across Siberia, 281

Rozguildieff, Cruelty of, 419

Ruins of Irkutsk after the fire, 267

Runaway exiles, Capture of, 40

---- prisoners at Kara, 465

Ruschkova, Finns at, 5

Russ, _British Workman_ in, 7

Russia and China, Boundary, 487
Difficulties between, 501
Ethnography of, 206
Treaties between, 323

---- Appeal by Amur tribes for Chinese help against, 493

---- Asiatic boundary line, 49

---- Author’s previous tours in, 2

---- Chinese exports into, 341

---- Church bells of, 332

---- Early Chinese frontier, 323, 487

---- Education in, Cost of, 719
Subjects of study, 720

---- Ethnography of, 206

---- in Asia:
Area of, 18
Ethnography of, 19, 52
Population of, 20

---- Population of, 206

---- Railways in, 25

---- Tea in, Price of, 325

Russian annexation of Siberia, 109

---- cemeteries, 152

---- Church:
Bible, The, and, 181
Burial services, 152
Foundation of the, 751
Reformation of the, 753
Rural deaneries of the, 163
Schisms of the, 756
Transition of the, 752

---- conquests on the Amur, 489

---- conscription, Method of, 736

---- courts of law, 73

---- custom of addressing friends, 406, 620

---- dislike of mutton, 628

---- drunkenness compared with English, 544

---- gold, 211

---- Greek, and English Church, Distinctions between, 162

---- Judges, 73

---- Littoral, Number of Chinese in, 714

---- peasantry--How they live, 698

---- photography, 434

---- politicians, 748

---- prison, Account of a, 380

---- prisoners, Condition of, 64

---- salutation, Mode of, 406

---- Scriptures printed for Bible Society, 8

---- sea-trading adventure, 761

---- trade, Effects of gambling, 627

Russians afloat, 733

---- Amusements of, 621

---- at home, 620

---- Gambling of, 119

---- “Little,” as colonists, 32

---- Superstitions of the, 620

---- Sympathy of, for Decembrists, 32, 378

Russo-Chinese commerce, Kiakhta as a centre of, 324

Sabbath, Prisoners’ observance of, 422-55

Sables of Olekma, 295

---- of Vitim, 295

---- skins of Manchuria, 696
Khabarofka, Sale at, 578, 696

Sacrament of Penance, 169

---- of Unction, 169

Sacred pictures as objects of worship, 331

Sailors of Siberian fleet:
Clothing of, 736
Food of, 736
Pay of, 734
Religion of, 741

Sakhalin: Aïnos, 650

---- Card-playing at, 656

---- Coal at, 651

---- Fauna of, 649

---- Flora of, 649

---- Food of natives, 650

---- Island of, 648

---- Lakes of, 649

---- Mountains of, 649

---- Orochons in, 649

---- Population of, 649

---- Prisoners at, Labour of, 658
_North China Herald_ on, 652-8
Number of, 652-3

---- Rivers of, 649

---- Trade in trepangs, 650

---- Ula-Hotun, Town of, 550

---- Vagrants’ deportation to, 37

Salaries of telegraph clerks, 724

Salary of Commandant of Kara prison, 461

Salmon at Nikolaefsk, Cost of, 628

Salt-works at Telma, 243

Salutation by Buriats, 356

---- Chinese method of, 356

---- Russian mode of, 406

Salvage from Irkutsk fire, 258

_Samovar_ required and _not_ required, 145, 221

Samoyedes, Country of, 98

---- Dress of the, 99

---- Honesty of the, 102

---- Howorth, Mr., on the, 98

---- Idols of the, 103

---- Seebohm on the, 98

---- Yurak, Réclus on the, 103

Scenery of Bureya mountains, 537

---- of the Lower Amur, 580

---- of the Middle Amur, 535

---- of the Shilka River, 483

---- of the Sungacha River, 684

Schisms of Russian Church, 756

Schlüsselburg prison, 68

School at Kansk, 237

---- at Medvedsky, 150

---- at Obdorsk, 103, 150

---- at Omsk, 150

---- at Tiumen, 150

---- at Tobolsk, 150

---- at Tomsk, 130

---- for Gilyaks, 604

---- for prisoners’ children at Irkutsk, 278

Schools at Vladivostock, 719-21-23

---- in the Primorsk, Number, 723

---- Inspection of, 11, 278

---- Teachers’ salaries, 722

---- Training institutions for masters, 278

Scientific explorations in Siberia, 768

_Scoptsi_ as a fanatical sect, 758

---- Doctrine of the, 205

---- village of dissent, 205

_Scorbutus_ in Alexandreffsky hospital, 249

Scripture depôt at Krasnoiarsk, 232

---- distribution at Archangel, 733
at Mariinsk, 665
at Nikolaefsk, 666
at Sophiisk, 665
at Tiumen, 184
at Tomsk, 185
at Tyr, 665
by Author, 3, 703
Curiosity of fellow-passengers, 539
in Akmolinsk, 186
in Semipolatinsk, 186
in the Primorsk, 703
Letters concerning, 401, 403
on Upper Amur, 538
Total up to Tomsk, 186

Scriptures on steamboat, 668

---- for Aniva Bay, 660

---- for distribution on Siberian tour, 7

---- for Dui, 660

---- for Khabarofka, 667

---- for Krasnoiarsk province, 233

---- for Nikolaefsk hospital, 617

---- for Verchne-Udinsk, 318

---- in Russ, printed for Society, 8

---- purchased by prisoners, 121

---- Reception of, in Siberia, 185

---- taken for distribution, 11

---- Turkish, read by Tatars, 61

---- Wish of Bible Soc. for new translations, 673

Scurvy among prisoners, 472

Sea-borne exiles, 45

---- coast province (_see_ Primorsk)

---- communication with Europe, 107

---- of Okhotsk, 631
Whales in the, 631

---- trading adventures of the Russians, 761

Seamen, Clothing of, 737

Season for gold-mining, 462

Sect of _Dukhobortsi_, 760

Sects of _Bezpopoftschins_, 759

Seebohm on ornithology of Yenesei, 763

---- on the birds of the Yeneseisk province, 202

---- on the Samoyedes, 98

---- on the Yenesei, 198

---- with Capt. Wiggins, 763

Selenginsk, English mission at, 318

Seminary at Kasan, 14

Semipolatinsk, Distribution of tracts at, 186

---- Finsch, Dr., in, 159

Senate a Court of Appeal, 73

Sentences of exiles, 35

---- of prisoners at Kara, 450

Serfdom, A remnant of, 272

Serfs, Former condition of, 23

---- Riches of the Demidoffs, 23

Sermons, 460, 671

---- in Petersburg, yearly, 460

Servants, Exiles as, 730

---- wages at Vladivostock, 570

Service, Church, 165-6

---- at Nikolaefsk, 619

---- on board the _Djiguitt_, 740

Services, Author’s religious, 701, 709-25

---- of the Russian Church for Buriats, 152

Settlement of peasants on the Zeya, 531

Shaman Buriats, Conversion of, 374

---- Costume of a, 158

Shamanism, Belief in, 405

---- of the Daurians, 549

---- of the Gilyaks, 609

---- “Priest’s Stone,” The, 311

---- Victims of, 311

Shan-Alin mountains, 669

Shawls, Orenburg, 26

Sheep, Mongolian, 552

---- of the Yeneseisk province, 204

---- Russian dislike of mutton, 628

_Sheffield Daily Telegraph_, Extraordinary statement of, 746

---- on “quicksilver”-mines, 747

Shilka--Boundary of Russia and China, 487

---- Cliffs on the, 483

---- Collins’s voyage down the, 441

---- Fair on the, 488

---- Formation of the river, 482

---- Granite rocks on the, 487

---- Knox, Mr., on the, 441

---- Mineral springs, 488

---- Scenery on the, 483

---- Shipyards on the, 420

---- Siberian route _viâ_ the, 52

---- Territory, Discovery of, 492
Occupation of, 492

Shipyard at Sivakoff, 420

---- employment for prisoners, 420

Shoeing horses, Method of, 232

Shologon tribe of the Orochons, 507

Shop of a Manchu tradesman, 553

Shrine of Innokente at Irkutsk, 274

Siberia--Amur route, 52

---- Animals, Wild, 697

---- Bed a novelty, 444

---- Bibliography of, 772

---- Books on, 629

---- Boundaries of, 49

---- Caravan transport in, 354

---- Carriage, Cost of, 105, 746

---- Cossack conquerors of, 281

---- Eastern: Number of exile colonists, 451

---- Explorations of, 766

---- Exports from, 105, 341

---- Finnish colonies in, 131

---- Fish pie a luxury, 432

---- Furs exported from, 295

---- “Governments” in, 50

---- Journeys of previous travellers, 282

---- Landscape scenery of, 189

---- Manufactories of, 241

---- Materialism in, 705

---- Navigation, Early, 767

---- Nordenskiöld, Discoveries, 761

---- North-east, Flora of, 645

---- Political divisions of, 50

---- Population of, 52

---- Prison-life in, Misrepresentations of, 379-83, 413-16, 468, 744

---- Prisoners in, Trial of, 73

---- Protestants in, Number of, 726

---- “Quicksilver”-mines of, 409

---- Roads of, 52

---- Routes across, 281

---- Russian annexation of, 109

---- Scientific explorations in, 768

---- Sea communication with Europe, 107

---- Steamboat passengers in, 118

---- Temperature of, 50

---- Towns of, 192

---- Western and Eastern, 51, 188

---- Wiggins, Discoveries of, 761

Siberian butter, 188

---- cathedrals, 165

---- cheese-making, 188

---- Church:
Knowledge, Sources of, 161
Nunneries of, 163-79

---- churches, 163, 332

---- courts of law, 73

---- ferry, 139

---- fleet, 734

---- fruit, 149

---- horses, 123

---- hospitality, 194, 353, 431

---- hospitals, Impressions of, 618

---- hotel-dining, 431

---- houses, 190-2

---- leave-taking: the _podkeedovate_, 353

---- posting, 134

---- prison, Building of, 70

---- prisoners, Books on, 379

---- rooms, 192

---- sailors, 741

---- State bank, 578

---- tour, Scriptures for distribution on, 7

---- village, Description of a, 190

Sibir, Fortress of, 110

Sick, Visitation of the, 169

---- and aged among the Koriaks: Treatment of the, 643

Sidoroff, M.K., and Russian sea-trading adventure, 761

Sieges of Albazin, 515

Sikhota-Alin range of mountains, 561, 669

Silovanoff, _Scoptsi_ village at, 205

Silver found in the Za-Baikal, 378

---- mine, Collins’s descent, 412

---- mines at Nertchinsk, 411
Cruelty of Rozguildieff, 419
Food at, 419
Formation of, 422
Labour, Hours of, 423
of Altai region, 411
Women not working in, 417

---- money at Khabarofka, 715
Chinese demand for, 715

---- smelting at Barnaul, 156

Singing in cathedrals, 165

Situation of Khabarofka town, 577

---- of Tiumen, 27

---- of Vladivostock, 711

Sivakoff, Punishment at, 421

---- Shipyard at, 420

_Skaka_, an outdoor game, 621

Sledging in Kamchatka, 637

Sleeping in a tarantass, 187

Smelting of iron by Yakutes, 304

Smuggling spirits into prison, 67, 317

Sokoloff, Mr., Inspector of schools, 278

Soldiers, Educated, exempt from military service, 720

---- in East Siberia, Number of, 667

---- in the Primorsk, Number of, 667

---- Officers, Pay of, 668

Sophiisk, Amur at, Width of, 585

---- Population of, 585

---- Scripture distribution at, 665

“Souls” in Russia, 23

Souvenirs from Orenburg, 26

---- from Yakutsk, 303

Spectacle of Irkutsk fire, 260

Speed of the _Djiguitt_, 735

Stables at gold-mine, 223

Stallybrass, Mr., and the Selenginsk mission, 320

_Starosta_ of a prison, 454

---- of a village, 51

_Staroveri_, Sect of the, 759

State prison at Petrovski, 387

Statistics of criminals, 72

---- of prisoners in Siberia, 69

---- of Russo-Chinese trade, 714

_Stauropegia_ monastery, 177-8

Steamer aground on the Amur, 511

Steamers, Arrival of, uncertain, 117

---- Carriage of Scriptures, 668

---- Departure of, uncertain, 117

---- Exiles conveyed by, 42
Conveyance _viâ_ Suez, 14

---- Journeys on board, 16, 118-19, 314, 505-11, 669, 708-43

---- Meals on board, 513

---- on the Kama, 29

---- on the Obi, 29

---- on the Yenesei, 203

---- Passengers on board, 118

---- Provisions on board, 512

Stepanof’s expedition on the Amur, 491

Stipend of priests, 172

Stones, Precious, in neighbourhood of Nertchinsk, 407

Storehouse at Middle Kara, 455

Storms on Lake Baikal, 312

“Story of Elizabeth,” by Madame de Cottin, 379-83

---- of English mission at Selenginsk, 320

Strahlenberg on the Yakutes, 305

---- Travels of, in Siberia, 282

Streets and houses of Maimatchin, 339

Stretinsk, Shipyard at, 420

---- Town of, 438

Students’ education at Blagovestchensk, 523

_Subbotniki_, Sect of, 451

Subscribers to the _Rooski Rabotchi_, 184

Suez Canal route for exiles, 44

Suifun River, Width of the, 708

_Suifun_ steamer, Travelling on board the, 708

Sundays, Refusal of prisoners to work on, 422

Sungacha River, Fish of the, 679

---- Mosquitoes on the, 684

---- Scenery at Markova, 684

_Sungacha_, On board the, 669

Sungari River, Mouth of the, 541

Superstitions of Gilyaks, 605

---- of the Russians, 620

Surgut, Population of, 123

Surgut, Provisions at, Price of, 120

Swan, Mr., and the Selenginsk mission, 320

Tagil, Hospital at, 24

---- Temperature at, 24

_Taiga_, Gold-seeking in the, 213

---- Riding in the, 212

Talking by signs, 442

Tallack, Mr., Mistake of, in Howard Association Report, 745

Tarantass, Cost of, 136-40

---- Description of the vehicle, 135

---- Loan of, by Mr. O. Cattley, 27

---- travelling in spring, 55
Clothing for, 50
Hearthrugs for, 136
Manner of progress, 138
Mishaps, 193, 251
Sleeping, 187

Tariff at post-houses, 141

Tatars, Ancestors of the, 57

---- Appearance of, 58

---- as coachmen or servants, 58

---- at Barnaul, 62

---- at prayers, 61

---- Head-dress of women, 58

---- Houses of, 59

---- in the Kasan government, 15

---- Mohammedan mosques, 59

---- Monuments of the, 589

---- of the Yeneseisk province, 205

---- Turkish Scriptures read by, 61

---- Worship of the, 14, 59

Taxes in the Primorsk, 571

_Tayoshnik_, Income of a, 217

---- Work of a, 213

Taz River fishery, 123

Tcheremisi idols, 14

Tchuvashi idols, 14

Tea, a traveller’s requisite, 142

---- Buriat invitation to drink, 366

---- caravans in Siberia, 354

---- Chinese use of, 340

---- consumed at mines, 224

---- Importation of, into Russia, 325

---- in Russia, Price of, 325

---- Love of Russians for, 534

---- used as coin, 343

Teetotalism in Russia, 545

Telegraph clerks, Pay of, 724

_Telegraph, Daily_, and the “Reign of Terror” in Russia, 45

---- Misrepresentations of the, 745

---- on number of political prisoners, 397

---- _Sheffield Daily_, Misrepresentations of, 746

Telegraphic communication at Vladivostock, 724
Rates for telegrams, 522

Telma, Salt manufactory at, 243

Temperature, Difference between London and four Siberian towns, 427

---- of Blagovestchensk, 532

---- of Khabarofka, 579

---- of Nertchinsk, 426

---- of the Obi, 50

---- of Siberia, 50

---- of Tagil, 24

---- on the Vega, 563

---- of Vladivostock, 50, 563

---- of Yakutsk, 296

---- of the Yeneseisk province, 200

Temple at Aigun, 558

---- Buddhist, at Maimatchin, 344

Temples of the Manchu, 549

Tents of the Orochons, 509

_Thames_ in the Kureika, 103, 198

Theatre at Aigun, 558

Théel, M., on the Tunguses, 207

---- on the Yenesei, 197

---- on the Yuraki, 207

Tichmeneff, General, 666

Tigers at Khabarofka, 689

---- Gilyaks’ fear of, 606

---- in Vladivostock, 700

“Tips” to _yemstchiks_, 140

Tiumen, Commerce of, 27

---- Exiles passing through, 395

---- Ignatoff, M., at, 29

---- Ispravnik of, 29

---- Mayor of, 27

---- Population of, 27

---- Prisoners’ food at, 78
Irons at, 85
Jewish, 460

---- Schools at, 28, 150

---- Situation of, 27

---- Tract distribution, Plan for, 184

---- Wardropper’s firm at, 27

Tobacco grown at Nertchinsk, 425

Tobolsk, Area of, 97

---- as a capital, 109

---- Ethnography of province, 98

---- Exiles’ journey to, 42

---- Fertility of, 104

---- Governor of, 113

---- Hard-labour prisons at, 70, 82

---- Lakes of, 97

---- prison, Convicts’ opinions of, 115

---- Prisoners’ labour at, 114

---- Provisions at, Cost of, 105

---- School at, 150

---- Surface of, 97

---- Tract distribution at, 183
Archbishop’s opinion of, 183

Tom, Iron in the valley of the, 104

Tomsk, Bazaar at, 128

---- Beggars at, 228

---- Bible Society’s depôt at, 237

---- Climate of, 127-46

---- Cows near, 188

---- Departure from, 186

---- Flora in vicinity of, 149

---- hospital, 229

---- Jail at, 128

---- Madness through drink at, 229

---- Population of, 127

---- Prison school at, 128

---- Prisoners at, 78

---- Province of, 127

---- Punishment of prisoners at, 129

---- _Quass_ at, 224

---- School at, 130

---- Scripture distribution at, 185-6

---- Towns of, 128

---- Tract distribution at, 129

---- Vegetation south of, 146

Topaz and emeralds of the Odon Tchelon mountain, 407

Town of Aigun, 495, 558

---- of Ekaterineburg, 25

---- of Krasnoiarsk, 227

---- of Nikolaefsk, 624

---- of Verchne-Udinsk, 317

---- without women, 338

Towns, Manchurian, 550

---- Siberian, 192
Civic arrangements, 716
Doctors in, 619

Tracts:
Distribution at Tiumen, 184
---- at Tomsk, 129
---- Archbishop of Tobolsk on, 183
---- Author’s work in Western Siberia, 733
---- for Akmolinsk, 186
---- for Semipolatinsk, 186
---- on the _Irtish_, 121
---- Total up to Tomsk, 186

---- Gift of, by Miss Hellmann, 53

---- People’s reception of, 185

---- Religious Tract Society’s work in Russia, 705

---- taken for distribution, 8

---- Total number distributed by Author, 704

Trade at Nikolaefsk, 626

---- Bribery in, 626

---- customs, 627

---- Drunkenness, Effect of, on, 627

---- Gambling, Effect of, on, 627

---- Immorality, Effect of, on, 627

---- in trepangs, 650

---- on the Obi, Oswald Cattley on, 27, 108, 761

---- Russian and Chinese, 714

Tragedy in prison, 154

Training institutions for schoolmasters, 278

Trans-Baikal province, Area of, 400
Destination of political offenders, 377
Gems found in the, 378, 428
Gold found in the, 378, 428
Population of the, 400
Silver found in the, 378, 428

---- prisons, Books for, 400

Transition period of Russian Church, 752

Translations into Aïno, 650

Transport of Exiles by barges, 29
By rail, 42
To Ekaterineburg, 43
To Nijni Novgorod, 43
To Perm, 43

---- of Nihilists, Mode of, 46

---- of prisoners to Finnish colonies, 131

_Travaux forcés_ in prison, 113

Travellers on the Lena, 282

---- on the Mongolian route, 349

Travelling, Courier, 134

---- in winter, Difficulties of, 306

---- Manner of, 135

Travels in Siberia, De Lesseps’, 282

---- of John Ledyard, 283

Treaties at Nertchinsk, 324, 428

---- between Russia and China, 323

Treatise on the Duty of Priests, 181-2

Treatment of penal colonists, 728

Trees at Khabarofka, 579

---- in Kamchatka, 636

---- in the Primorsk, 566

---- in the Yenesei valley, 105

---- in vicinity of Albazin, 515

---- on the Lower Amur, 579

---- on the Upper Amur, 515

Trepangs, Trade in, 650

Trial by jury, 73

Tribes in the Primorsk, 567

Tributaries of the Lena, 288

_Troichatka_, Description of, 90, 92

Troitzka, Mission school at, 604

Troitzkosavsk, A “miracle” at, 330

---- Koecher, Mr., at, 323

---- Market at, 327

---- Prison at, 327

Tundras of the Obi district, 105

---- of the Yeneseisk province, 200

Tunguses--A _Shaman’s_ costume, 158

---- fair on the Shilka, 488

---- Latham, Dr., on the, 206

---- of the Yeneseisk province, 206

---- Yuraki, M. Théel, on the, 207

Tura River, 27

Turkish race, Dr. Latham on, 206

---- Scriptures read by Tatars, 61

Types of Russian religious gentlemen, 706

Tyr, Cliff at, 589

---- Scripture distribution at, 665

Tzar’s ukase for conversion of Yakutes, 305

Uleaborg, A female prisoner at, 41

Unction, Holy, Office of the, 169-70

Ural mountains, 17

---- Gold-washing in the, 211

Usine at Barnaul, 153-6

---- at Irkutsk, 268

Ussuri, Card-playing on the, 680

---- Cossacks in Primorsk, 568
Warlike nature of, 681

---- Course of the, 669

---- Fish in the, 679

---- Length of the, 679

---- Upper, Ginseng plantations of the, 566

Ust-Strelka, The Amur at, 514

Vaccination in the Primorsk, 571

Vagrants, Deportation of, 37

_Vega_ frozen in, 646

---- rounding Cape Cheliuskin, 292

---- Temperature on the, 563

Vegetables of Kamchatka, 645

Vegetation at Nertchinsk, 426

---- at Sakhalin, 649

---- at Vladivostock, 690

---- south of Tomsk, 146

Venyukoff’s mission to Peking, 494

Verchne-Udinsk, Population of, 317

---- Posting letters at, 354

---- Prison at, 317
Scriptures for, 318

---- Town of, 317

Vermin in Siberian prisons, 363

Verst-posts, Distances between, 436

Vestments of clergy, 163

---- Splendour of, 164

Victims of Shamanism, 311

Village church procession, 174

---- deserted at Pashkova, 671

---- education, 150

---- of the Gilyaks, 593

---- of the _Scoptsi_, 205

---- settlers on the Amur, 588

---- Siberian, Description of a, 190

---- _Starosta_, or chief man, 51

Virgin, Commemorations of the, 165

Visit to a Chinese merchant, 339

---- to a gold-mine, 211

---- to a Kara mine, 463

Visitation of the sick, 169

Visits to prisoners, 246

Vitim, Sables of, 295

Vladivostock, Author’s religious services at, 725

---- barracks, 718

---- Boys’ Industrial School, 723

---- Chinese houses at, 716
Junks at, 716

---- Coal-mines at, 678

---- Commerce of, 716

---- De Vries, Capt., Lodging with, 712

---- Exports at, 714

---- Foreign communications, 723

---- Fruit-trees at, 690

---- Girls’ Institute, 721
“Best-beloved” prize, 722

---- Harbour of, 712

---- High-class school at, 719

---- Imports at, 714

---- Inhabitants of, 713

---- lock-up, 719

---- Lutheran church at, 717

---- Mills at, 709

---- Morality at, 723

---- Naval hospitals at, 617

---- Penal colony at, 726
Dress of prisoners, 728
Treatment of convicts, 728

---- Pleasure garden at, 717

---- Poor relief at, 717

---- Population of, 712

---- Port of, 666

---- Potatoes at, 690

---- Priest of, 730

---- Rain at, 565

---- Russian inhabitants of, 715

---- Situation of, 711

---- Telegraphs in, 724

---- Temperature at, 50, 563

---- Tigers in, 700

---- Wages of convict women servants at, 570

_Vodka_ and alcohol, 544

Voguls, 98

Volcanoes, 562, 635

Volga, Voyage on the, 16

Voyage down the Shilka by Collins, 441

---- of Knox on the Shilka, 441

Wages at Nikolaefsk, 590

---- of convict servants, 570

---- of gold-miners, 223

Walking of exiles to destination, 44

War, Anglo-Chinese, Influence of, 501

---- Crimean, Influence of, 497

Wardropper’s engineering firm at Tiumen, 27

Water, Benediction of, 169

Weather in crossing Europe, 24

---- on Lower Amur, 627

Weddings among the Goldi, 601-74

Western and Eastern Siberia, 51, 188

---- Siberia, Author’s work in, 733

Whales in the Sea of Okhotsk, 631

Wheelwright, An extortionate, 193

Whyte on number of political exiles, 394

Wiborg prison, 63

Wife-beating, 270

---- Goldi’s price of a, 601-74

Wiggins, Capt., accompanied by Seebohm, 763

---- dealing with Ostjaks, 103

---- Discoveries of, 761

---- in the Obi gulf, 106

---- Navigation of the Kara Sea, 51, 768

---- on Siberian miners, 225

---- The _Thames_ in winter quarters, 198

Wild-fowl of Kamchatka, 637

Winter climate at Irkutsk, 264

---- dress of Gilyaks, 597

---- habitations of Gilyaks, 595

Wives accompanying exiled husbands, 36

---- of prisoners, 388

Women, Churching of, 167

---- criminals at mines, 467

---- Gilyaks’ estimation of, 601

---- in silver-mines a myth, 417

---- Town without, 338

Work at Alexandreffsky prison, 446

---- “Fabric,” 82

---- in mines, 82

---- of a _tayoshnik_, 213

---- of prisoners, 446

---- Prison, Lack of, 247

Working hours at a gold-mine, 224

Works at Nijni Tagilsk, 20, 21

---- consulted or referred to, 772

---- Iron, at Petrovsky Zavod, 355

World, Itinerary round the, 770

Worship: Altars of sacrifice, 59

---- Candles used at, 164

---- Gilyak idols, 606

---- “High places,” 405

---- of images, 164

---- of pictures, 164, 331

---- of prisoners in Petersburg, 65

---- of Tcheremisi, 14

---- of the Tatars, 14, 59

Writing to prisoners’ friends, 84, 236

Yablonoi mountains, View of, 360

Yakute dogs, Breeding of, 304

Yakutes: Tsar’s ukase for their conversion, 305

---- Description of the, 299

---- Dress of the, 302

---- Dwellings of the, 300

---- Furniture of houses, 301

---- Gluttony of, 301, 307

---- Horseflesh eating, 301

---- Horses, Treatment of, 308

---- Iron-smelting by, 304

---- Language of the, 305

---- Reindeer, Use of, 306

---- Strahlenberg on, 282-99, 305

Yakutsk, Foundation of, 112, 281

---- Gold and mica found at, 295

---- government, Prisoners in, 37

---- Population of, 294

---- Souvenirs from, 303

---- Temperature at, 296

---- Travelling, Difficulty of, 306

_Yemstchiks_, 138

---- Buriats as, 369

---- Drunkenness of, 252

---- “Tips” to, 140

Yenesei, Current and proportions of, 197

---- Fish of, 201

---- Floods, 198, 219

---- Flora of, 219

---- Length of, 19

---- Outlet to Europe and Japan, 51

---- Peacock’s description of, 197

---- Seebohm on the, 198
On ornithology of, 763

---- Settlement of Tunguses on the, 206
Yuraki, on the, 206

---- Sources of the, 196

---- Steamers on the, 203

---- Théel’s description, 197

---- valley, Iron ore in the, 210
Trees in the, 105

Yeneseisk, Animals of, 209

---- Birds of, 202

---- Boundaries of, 199

---- Cattle of, 204

---- Forests of, 200

---- Founding of, 112

---- Lakes of, 200

---- Population of, 203

---- Roads in, 139

---- Tatars of the province, 205

---- Temperature of, 200

---- Town of, 205

---- Tundras of, 200

---- Tunguses, 206

Yermak, Conquests of, 57

_Yourts_ of the Ostjaks, 124

Yukaghirs, 298

Yule, Mr., and the Selenginsk mission, 320

Yurak-Samoyede idols, 103

Réclus, M., on the, 103

Yuraki settlement on the Yenesei, 206

---- Théel, M., on the, 207

---- Tunguses, M. Théel on the, 207

Yuryef monastery, Life in the, 178

Za-Baikal, Gold found in the, 462

---- Metals in the, 378

---- Silver found in the, 378

Zavod work for criminals, 82

Zemski post, 239

Zeya, Course of the, 531

---- Mouth of the, 531

---- Peasants on the, 531

_Zeya_, Drunkenness on board the, 506

---- Travelling on board the, 505, 511

Hazell, Watson, and Viney, Printers, London and Aylesbury.

NOTICES OF THE PRESS.

=The Times.= (_One column._)

“The reader who will follow this long Odyssey, with all its episodes
of considerable hardships, and not without dangers, will find in Mr.
Lansdell’s volumes all that can interest him about Siberia--a country
which was once looked upon merely as a place of durance and banishment,
with weeping and gnashing of teeth, but which begins now to be better
known as a land in many parts of prodigious fertility and transcendent
beauty.... Mr. Lansdell appears to have been delighted with almost
everything he saw.... He lays claim to the character of an impartial
writer, and if his mind was in any way biased it can only have been by
those warm chivalrous sympathies which prompted him to an enterprise
of charity and humanity, and by a sense of gratitude for the great
kindness and hospitality with which he seems to have been welcomed at
every stage of his progress.”

=The Athenæum.= (_Five columns._)

“With the exception of Mr. Mackenzie Wallace’s ‘Russia,’ the best book
on a Russian subject which has appeared of late years is Mr. Lansdell’s
‘Through Siberia.’ It is a genuine record of a remarkable expedition,
written by a traveller who has evidently eyes with which to see
clearly, and a mind free from prejudice or bias, whether political or
theological.... Mr. Lansdell may be congratulated on having rendered a
great service to the convict population of Russia.... But the service
which he has rendered to English readers is of a more signal nature....
Mr. Lansdell’s book will now enable every one to judge for himself.”

=The Illustrated London News.=

“We can promise the readers of Mr. Lansdell’s book a great deal of
entertainment, combined with instruction, in the survey of such an
immense field of topography, natural history, and ethnology, and in the
plentiful anecdotes of wayside experience and casual observation....
His statements are characterised by an imposing air of precision, and
are fortified by official statistics, which claim due attention from
those candidly disposed to investigate the subject.”

=Proceedings of the Royal Geographical Society.=

“Mr. Lansdell’s work contains much incidental detail likely to be
of practical utility to other travellers, apart from its special
philanthropic and economical aspects, and the convenience of its
collected descriptive matter. The observations on the various races met
with, especially in the extreme eastern part of the journey, are of
considerable interest, as are the accounts of the actual conditions of
the country at the present time.”

=Church Missionary Intelligencer.= (_Four pages._)

“Mr. Lansdell has spared no pains or labour to make his book as
complete as possible. It is altogether different from even the
higher class of books of travel. It teems with information of every
possible kind; ... the footnotes are quite a remarkable feature for
the minuteness of statistical detail with which every subject touched
upon--geographical and ethnographical, economic and commercial,
ecclesiastical and literary, imperial and municipal--is illustrated.”

=The Record.= (_One column._)

“The interest of ‘Through Siberia’ is varied, and the revelations of
the book will attract various minds. The Christian will find herein
much which will move his pity for souls; the ecclesiastic will note
with attention many striking passages which will assist his studies
in comparative religion, and supply links between different ages
and differing Churches; the philanthropist will engage himself with
existing human wrongs, and seek for suggestions as to methods for
redressing and removing them; the statesman may find light, lurid,
indeed, and terrible, cast on pressing questions of State policy and
relation of classes; while the man of science will not search these
pages in vain for facts in ethnology, geography, geology, climatology,
sociology, and philology, which will enrich his stores and supply
missing links in his world of study.”

=The Field.=

“The utmost commendation must be given to the reverend author, not
only for his personal work, but for the good taste that has impelled
him to describe his religious labours in language understanded of the
laity.... His observations on the varied aspect of the country, its
products and capabilities, the actual condition of cities and villages,
society, means of travel and accommodation, and the many tribes and
races met with, will be perused by the general reader with the greatest
interest; whilst a good index enables the student of ethnology,
mineralogy, and other physical sciences, etc., to discover the many
special notes scattered throughout the book.”

=The Globe.= (_One column._)

“In addition to a large amount of valuable information respecting
convict life in Siberia, the author gives many interesting details
of the semi-barbarous countries through which he travelled.... The
illustrations and maps will be found very serviceable in elucidating
the text, and the work as a whole deserves no slight measure of praise.”

=The Rock.= (_One column._)

“The volumes are got up with great care, and remarkably well
illustrated. The books will amply repay perusal; and to all who desire
to obtain an insight into Russian manners and customs we confidently
recommend them.”

=The Academy.= (_Four columns._)

“His book is full of interesting, valuable, and amusing information....
Mr. Lansdell is never tedious; and we are of opinion that ‘Through
Siberia’ is much more entertaining, and certainly more readable, than
many novels.”

=The United Service Gazette.= (_Three columns._)

“There is plenty of real novelty in Siberia without troubling the
novelist any more. Certainly no more entertaining book of the kind,
combined with usefulness, has been issued from the press for a long
time.... Everywhere there is something new to tell us, and we wonder
why in the world it is that Siberia has been left out in the cold so
long.”

=Paper and Print.= (_One column._)

“‘Through Siberia’ is a book which every Englishman ought to read....
Mr. Lansdell’s book will create a lasting sensation, and will also
provide food for reflection for all who take an interest in the affairs
of their fellow-creatures.”

=The St. James’s Gazette.= (_One column._)

“Mr. Lansdell has made a point of avoiding politics; nor does it form
part of his plan to inquire why the exiles, imprisoned or confined to
particular districts in Siberia, were sent there. He deals only with
their actual condition; and this he certainly shows to be much better
than is generally supposed.”

=The Pall Mall Gazette.= (_Two columns._)

“In some ways Mr. Lansdell has a better right to speak about Siberia
than any previous western traveller. He went right through the country,
from Tiumen on the Ural boundary, to Nikolaefsk on the Pacific
coast.... His views upon the Russian penal system are undoubtedly
founded upon honest personal conviction.... Apart even from its main
subject, it teems with useful information about the country and the
people, some tribes of which Mr. Lansdell has perhaps been the first so
fully to describe.”

=The Fireside.= (_Three pages._)

“As a work of rare interest, we commend to our readers Mr. Lansdell’s
charming traveller’s story, a book of which three-fourths of the
first edition were sold before it had fairly reached the publishers’
counter.... That he has succeeded in gathering a mass of reliable
information is evident; for a Russian Inspector of Prisons writes
respecting the proof-sheets of the work: ‘What you say is so perfectly
correct, that your book may be taken as a standard even by Russian
authorities.’”

=Fraser’s Magazine.= (_Thirteen pages._)

“It is no more than the simple truth which Mr. Lansdell speaks when
he claims that he is in a unique position among all those who have
written on the subject. He has gone where he pleased in Siberia.... His
testimony, therefore, is simply the best that exists.... Of course it
is difficult to hope that his testimony will be accepted by everyone;
there are too many who, as a popular proverb says, ‘love truth, but
invite the lie to dinner.’ But I have faith that the majority of
Englishmen will perceive the untrustworthiness of Nihilistic and Polish
sources. If I am wrong, it would only prove that public opinion, even
in England, has lost its value.”

O. K. (a _Russian_ writer.)

=Harper’s Monthly Magazine.= (_One column._)

“Since the time of Howard, no one has given us so full and fair an
account of Russian prisons as is now presented to us by Mr. Lansdell,
and like Howard, he finds the Russians far less cruel jailers than they
are generally credited or discredited with being.”

=The Baptist.= (_Two columns._)

“The effect of Mr. Lansdell’s laborious investigations from one end of
the country to the other cannot but be salutary, and cannot, we are
disposed to think, fail to promote a good understanding between Russia
and other countries.... It is strange, but none the less true, that no
government in the world has been so ludicrously misrepresented as the
Russian, and a man who undertakes to set matters in a true light before
the eyes of the world deserves the gratitude of all parties. This Mr.
Lansdell has done, and his book will rank as a leading book of the
season.”

=The Saturday Review.= (_Three columns._)

“Mr. Lansdell is an acute and eager traveller, as well as an ardent
philanthropist.... His journey ... was one of great interest, great
adventure, and great endurance. The numerous and clever illustrations
with which the volumes are adorned add very much to their value. We
take leave of our author in the hope that, on the one hand, neither
his philanthropy nor his love of travelling is exhausted; and that, on
the other hand, his first venture in the world of letters may be so
favourable as to tempt him to a second venture, though perhaps on a
somewhat smaller scale.”

Transcriber’s Notes

• Italics represented by surrounding _underscores_.

• Small caps converted to ALL CAPS.

• Obvious typographic errors silently corrected.

• Variations in hyphenation and spelling kept as in the original.

• Corrected the spelling of Adolf Erik Nordenskiöld throughout.

• Footnotes renumbered consecutively within each chapter and moved to
the end of their respective chapters.

• Images relocated close to related content. Page references from
original captions removed.

• The table in Appendix F has been reformatted to fit a vertical
rather than a horizontal format.

• At the end of the Bibliography is “_To the foregoing should be added
the following work, on the eve of publication_” and an entry for
Hovgaard. This entry has been moved to its alphabetical location in
the Bibliography and the note removed.

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