KHABAROVSK
We approach Khabarovsk, which, like ancient Rome, is built on seven
slopes divided by deep ravines. Each slope has its own principal street,
cut by transversal lanes which descend to the ravines. Khabarovsk stands
at the joining of two grand rivers, the “Amour” and the “Oussouri.” In
about ten minutes a large building came to view. It was the so-called
“Castle,” our future residence, an imposing red-brick house with the
General-Governor’s flag waving from the roof.
We were received at Khabarovsk with much display of military pomp,
and cheered by the entire population, which was on the pier to see us
land. The quay was spread out with red cloth and decorated with flags.
All Khabarovsk appeared to turn out: men, women, and children. There
was a salute of one hundred and one cannon-shots from the batteries to
welcome us. My husband was received on the quay by the authorities and
the Municipality of the town. After a speech of welcome, they presented
him with “Bread and Salt” on a silver salver. The Mayor of the town, an
exiled Pole, addressed a few flattering words to me, saying that great
things were expected from me. I was very much embarrassed, and stood
there with burning cheeks.
I entreated Sergy, just the same as at Vladivostock, to walk on to the
“Castle.” We made quite an imposing procession. The town was dressed all
over with flags and the balconies ornamented with draperies. The streets
were lined with people all the way down to the “Castle.” The windows of
the houses were full of faces gazing at us. A double row of soldiers
were placed on each side of the road. All along the way we were loudly
greeted by the people, and showers of flowers fell at my feet when we
passed through the streets. On our way we entered the cathedral. The
church was crowded. The bishop, in full sacerdotal costume, waited to
receive us and to officiate a solemn mass. Baron Korff, my husband’s
predecessor, is buried inside the cathedral. Sergy laid upon his tomb a
large silver wreath which he had brought up from Moscow. The schools of
Khabarovsk stood in a line from the cathedral right up to our house. The
school girls strewed roses in my path. Then we went into the “Castle.”
The first arrival in my new home was not encouraging, thanks to the
awkwardness of one of my husband’s secretaries, who gave me a very
unpleasant piece of information, breaking to me the news that the boat
_Nijni-Novgorod_ with all our household, had been wrecked on the coast
of Aden. I could scarcely keep from bursting into tears. I departed to
the privacy of my room and fell into a chair without taking off my hat. I
sat and wondered how I would take to this life. Here I was in a foreign
land, a fearful distance from home! I felt utterly desolate in this great
strange house and looked a picture of forlorn misery. I could control
myself no longer, and burying my face in my hands, I wept and sobbed
unrestrainedly. But I must put a good face upon things before Sergy. I
must and I will!
In the evening there was a display of fireworks which we admired from
our verandah. In front of the entrance blazed an immense shield with
“Welcome” in transparencies, and the initials “B. S.” (Barbara, Sergius)
on it. A military band was playing in the pavilion of the assembly
just opposite us. The idea came to me to go for a stroll incognito as
far as the monument of Count Mouravieff-Amourski, the conqueror of the
Provinces of the Amour. The statue stands in front of the river on a huge
pedestal dominating the whole plain of the “Amour.” My incognito was
soon discovered, and people made way to us as we walked past the row of
curious eyes, on the boulevard all flaming with garlands of fire. I hate
nothing so much as exhibiting myself. It was very creepy to be stared at
like that!
On the next day Sergy sent a telegram to Vladivostock to the agent of the
Volunteer Fleet with inquiries about the fate of the _Nijni-Novgorod_ and
received on the same night a reassuring answer that the boat was safe and
sound, and had just left Colombo.
Our house is so large that we can easily be lost in it. One of the
immense halls is decorated with life-size portraits of our Emperor and
the Heir to the throne, under which, on a silver plate, was engraved that
His Imperial Highness had stopped in the house during his recent visit to
the Orient. From my windows I could look at the “Amour,” flowing along
deep and broad. I enjoyed seeing the ships crowded with tourists go past.
The first days at Khabarovsk were hard to me. I thought nothing could
make me like the country; nothing except duty would make one come here!
My new home put me in mind of a gilt cage. For everybody I was the wife
of the Governor-General, and treated, therefore with a deference which
I abhor. A new life began for me. I had duties to perform: official
dinners, official receptions—a duty which was not particularly enjoyable
to me. I had to follow my husband everywhere with outward pleasure and
inward rebellion—a martyr to politeness.
In my quality of President of the Committee of Benevolent Ladies, I had
to send invitations to all the members asking them to attend a meeting
in our house. It was for the first time in my life that I had assisted
at a committee, and being new to my work, I began to get awfully shy,
and stupidly got very red. The flush on my cheek was scarlet when I was
called upon to make a little speech. I felt so shy that I seemed entirely
to have lost the use of my tongue, and forgot all the words I had learnt
by heart. It is terrible that feeling when people are expecting you to do
something and you are sure to disappoint them. The committee lasted three
hours at least. Colonel Alexandroff, the secretary of the Benevolent
Society, began by reading aloud the account of the previous month. It is
concerts, theatricals, and lotteries which form the essential income of
the Society. The lady-patronesses were long in dividing the poor of the
town by districts between themselves; differences of opinion arising, and
the sitting lasted three hours at least. At the second one I was over my
first fit of shyness, and even gave a short discourse when opening the
meeting. I was chosen President of the “musical and dramatic circles”
that day.
My husband works very hard from morning till night; he rarely had a
moment he could call his own, and hadn’t a second for me, except at
meal-times, and then there was always somebody present.
With what impatience we are awaiting the _Nijni-Novgorod_ with all our
household. In the meantime we are served by convicts who, at the end of
their penal servitude in the Isle of Sakhalin, had been transferred to
Khabarovsk, their place of exile. The head-gardener, who was sent to
the galleys for having drowned his sweetheart, lives here as man and
wife with our laundress, who has poisoned her husband (a pretty couple
indeed!) The principal barber of the town, when shaving my husband one
day, tried to raise his pity, calling himself a poor orphan bereaved of
father and mother, and it turned out that it was the poor orphan who had
sent both parents _ad patres_. The locksmith who had been called to mend
my trunk, appeared to have been with Sergy at the military school. The
man was deported to Siberia for having strangled his wife.
My husband happening to visit a prison, saw a man who had stolen a
sturgeon. The law-suit had been going on for three years, and it is
only now that he was sentenced to three months’ imprisonment. During
this long lapse of time his wife had died, leaving him as legacy four
little children who were wearing away in the close atmosphere of the
gloomy prison cell, which they shared with their father, having no other
shelter. In one of the sittings of the “Benevolent Society” we found
means to give the poor brats a more comfortable home.
My husband has promulgated a new regulation. The soldiers who were sent
here to serve terms of three years, have the right—after having ended
their terms, to remain at Khabarovsk for another three years engaged
in diverse works—to be sent, after the lapse of this time, to Russia,
on account of the Government. By these means the convicts and Chinese
servants can easily be supplanted.
The richest shop at Khabarovsk, situated in a street called “Straight,”
which isn’t straight at all, belongs to a rich Chinese merchant named
Tifountai, where you can buy everything necessary and desirable,
beginning with clothes down to furniture, and all sort of provisions
which are of a fabulous price here, milk products especially: a pint of
cream costs two roubles (four shillings.) We had to buy three cows and
grow vegetables ourselves in hot-houses, and have thus vegetables all the
year round.
Settlers who went out to seek fortune in the Far East, were beginning
to arrive at Khabarovsk. Thirty families of emigrants, coming from the
south of Russia, are quartered in barracks a few miles from the town.
My husband wants to stock with inhabitants the outskirts of Khabarovsk,
flattering himself with the hope that they will supply the town with
provisions. In spring portions of ground will be distributed to them. In
Russia the peasants receive one acre of land and in this country they
will get forty acres of good land.
There is a good dress-maker in Khabarovsk, the widow of an officer, who
after the death of her husband was left absolutely destitute, and to
support herself took in sewing, making dresses for Khabarovsk belles.
I lead a regular life: music and books fill up my time. In the evening
I played duets with Mr. Shaniavski, who is an accomplished musician. A
young officer of the garrison, playing the violin, comes frequently to
make up a trio. Our performance lasted sometimes till after midnight, and
Sergy assured me that my partners, thoroughly tired out, were visibly
growing thinner and thinner, and became real spectres at the end of the
performance. Mr. Shaniavski offered to teach me Italian and Spanish; he
is a fine linguist, speaking fluently several languages. I need music and
work to drive away my blue devils, and have decided to keep friends with
Mr. Shaniavski without paying attention to evil tongues. People are so
interested in what I do, that a hundred-eyed Argus would not be enough
to look after me. Wicked things will be said of me, I am sure, but the
calumnies of the world do not trouble me a bit. What are they really
worth?
News from Russia arrives only three times a week. As soon as the
mail-post is perceived from the belfry, one flag is hoisted to signal
the mail from Vladivostock (_via_ America), two flags the post coming
from Blagovestchensk (_via_ Siberia) and three flags the courier from
Nikolskoe (the small local mail). It took long for letters to come; by
the time you get an answer to the questions you made, you may forget
what you were asking about. In October I got mother’s letter written in
July. Only far echoes come of what is going on in the world outside.
I hadn’t got the patience to read the belated accounts that arrive by
post weeks after the events. Here is an example of how long it takes for
news from the civilised world to reach Khabarovsk. Captain Olsoufieff,
Baron Korff’s _aide-de-camp_, had been sent by the Baron on business
to a remote part of Siberia, and has learnt only now, on returning
to Khabarovsk, that Baron Korff is dead, and that my husband was his
successor! In October the rivers began to freeze, and the mails were
delayed for some weeks. We got our correspondence by land across the
snow-covered mountains by means of pack-horses, and in what a state can
well be imagined. Our letters were all torn and wet, and it was difficult
to decipher the contents.
Sergy received one day a curious letter from Hackenberg, a small town in
Prussia, from an individual named Wilhelm Doukhow, who informed Sergy
that his grandfather had entered the Russian military service in 1812,
during the retreat of Napoleon, and had disappeared without vestige.
Having learnt by the papers that the family name of the newly appointed
General-Governor of the Amour provinces was Doukhovskoy, he begged my
husband to inform him if he was not a descendant of his ancestor.
The agents of the Volunteer Fleet gave us constant news of the
_Nijni-Novgorod_. The last news were rather alarming. The boat had left
Hong-Kong on the 28th September and hadn’t arrived at Nagasaki at the
end of October. Days rolled on and nothing further was heard of the
missing ship. At last we had a satisfactory telegram from Vladivostock,
announcing that our household and trunks had arrived in safety. The
unloading of the boat was done at once, and our servants took the train
to Nikolskoe. A boat named the _Khanka_ was waiting for them on the
“Oussouri” river. Our servants must hurry as fast as possible in order
to arrive at Khabarovsk before the “Amour” was frozen. In the beginning
of November our trunks had not yet reached Krasnoyarsk, and the “Amour”
was beginning to get covered with ice; in a short time all communication
with this Cossack settlement, which is three hundred miles away from
Khabarovsk, will be interrupted. Sergy wired to the captain of the
_Khanka_ offering the sum of one hundred roubles to his crew, if they
managed to arrive at “Novo-Michailovsk” before the river was altogether
frozen, but the captain did not manage it however, and we got news that
the _Khanka_ with its thirty-five passengers, was caught by the ice
within a few miles of a small village called Kroutoberejnaia, where the
boat will be obliged to winter. Some of the passengers, a travelling
dramatic company going to act at Khabarovsk among them, managed to make
their way to that village. The passengers could find only one cottage to
shelter them all. My parrot, who travelled with our household, helped to
keep everybody in good temper, repeating his favourite cry “stuff and
nonsense!” And thus, thanks to “Polly” good-humour was re-established,
but not for very long, for no supplies could be got in the surroundings
of Kroutoberejnaia, and the provisions on the boat coming to an end,
the passengers had the prospect of starvation, as well as the danger of
being attacked by “hounhouses” (Chinese bandits.) My husband sent a dozen
Cossacks to protect them. It was with great difficulty that these men got
to the village where the passengers of the _Khanka_ were sequestered, the
roads being almost impracticable. However my husband succeeded in sending
a hundred carts to bring over our luggage. The first transport had
arrived at last, but instead of our pelisses, for which we waited with
such impatience, the trunks contained only our summer things, and in what
a lamentable state! The band-boxes containing my hats were completely
turned into pancakes. On the 29th November the last transport arrived
with 120 big cases. All day long the unpacking was going on, the work of
convicts, while joiners and upholsterers were busy mending our furniture.
Many valuable things were completely ruined.
Every year in October, during the full moon, the Chinese aborigines of
Khabarovsk feasted that planet. They thrust into the “Amour,” from the
top of a mountain, lanterns of all the colours of the rainbow. Bands of
Chinamen walked about the streets perched on high stilts, shouting and
gamboling, to the great joy of the populace.
Every Sunday I go to church, where I try to hide myself behind one of
the pillars, having the uncomfortable sensation of being stared at. The
deacon of the cathedral is a legendary personage. He was born in America
from a Russian colonist and a negress. In his early youth he embarked
as ship-boy on board an American vessel which was wrecked on the shores
of Vladivostock. One day, as the boy sat on the beach-seat overlooking
the sea, forming plans for his future, dressed in rags and famished, he
attracted the attention of a rich Austrian merchant, who took him to his
house and employed him as aid to his cook. But the castaway, hearing the
silent call of the sea, ran away to America, where he became a sailor
and ultimately an officer. His second escape from shipwreck was still
more romantic. The current sent him with two comrades on a block of ice
on which they passed eight days. Being famished, they began by eating
their boots, and then decided that one of them should be sacrificed to
be devoured by his companion, they drew lots and that terrible fate fell
upon the poor castaway who offered up a prayer for preservation, and
vowed that if this miracle was vouchsafed, he would become a priest. He
had given himself up for lost and was about to blow out his brains, when
they perceived, quite close, a black mass. It was an enormous seal which
they killed on the spot, and which served as a sumptuous feeding-ground
until they were rescued by a passing ship. The future deacon, in
gratitude, carried out his promise.
One Sunday morning, before Mass, a group of strange wild people,
belonging to the “Golde” tribe, dressed in seal-skins presented my
husband with a stag’s head. These “Goldes” are a curious tribe—pagans to
the bottom of their hearts. They are baptised twice sometimes, because
it is the custom to give them a shirt and a small sum of money when they
pass through the ritual of Christianity. The priests, therefore, have
to make minute inquiries to be quite sure that the new candidate had
not been baptised before. The “Goldes” have prominent cheek-bones, a
broad nose, and very coarse and straight hair. Their faces long remain
hairless, a scanty beard grows only in their old age. They are dirty
people like all nomads, and smell awfully bad; the atmosphere in our
apartments was filled with the perfume of their persons. These malodorous
men examined everything with great curiosity; the parquet-floors,
especially, attracted their attention. We offered tea to the “Goldes,”
who carried away the remains of the bread and sugar; it is lucky they
didn’t take away the tea-things. I saw from my window two pairs of dogs,
harnessed to sledges, being driven at full gallop across the ice to the
other side of the Amour. It will be a difficult task for my husband to
tame these savages, who camp in winter in the woods, and live on what
they hunt, killing the animal with their arrows. As the “Goldes” have no
ready-money in their commerce they pay with sable-furs instead of coins.
On the following day the “Goldes” were celebrating their “Feast of the
Bear.” They bring up all the year round a young bear and devour it on
that day. After lunch a “Golde” brought his two wives to be presented to
me. They offered me a model of their national costume, richly embroidered.
Mme. Beurgier has invented a new pastime. Having become a strong adept
of spiritualism, she occupies herself with table-turning, and is always
discovering some new occult genius, who promises to show her some
wonderful manifestations from spirit land. At night she frightens out
of her wits poor Mrs. Serebriakoff, whose apartment was next to hers,
by conversing with the spirits of the defuncts, who guide her in every
smallest action of her life. She had been very sulky and cross for some
time past, and said that the spirits advised her to leave Khabarovsk
as fast as possible. I did not try to detain her, most certainly. Her
luggage was already sent to the railway station, when she came up to bid
me good-bye, and when I asked her if she would write to me from time
to time, she replied “No,” curtly. And that was her last word to me.
Nevertheless I rushed after her, racing downstairs and kissed her warmly,
which softened the poor old lady. She began to weep and went to announce
to Sergy that it was beyond her power to leave me. She left us for good,
however, a week afterwards.
We have now been three months at Khabarovsk. I can’t get accustomed to
this life. If I could but follow the example of Mme. Beurgier and fly
away from here! All my brightness has gone and my nerves are put out of
order. I don’t know what is the matter with me at all; for no reason on
earth I suddenly burst into tears and cry for hours. Sergy tried to rouse
me from the apathy into which I was falling deeper and deeper every day.
I shook myself at last, and am getting back my spirits and my colour. I
certainly was not going to let myself grow into a moping misanthrope.
The winter is splendid at Khabarovsk; the sky always clear of clouds
and no wind whatever, and for that reason one does not feel the cold so
much, though the thermometer shows over twenty degrees of frost every
day. The snow falls only once, in the beginning of winter, and keeps
white until spring. But the weather has no effect whatever upon me, and
very often when the sky is of azure blue, black thoughts overwhelm me;
and vice versa. The air in the apartments is excessively dry. I am often
awakened at night by the creaking of the furniture. We have to suspend
wet blankets in our bedroom as it is impossible to sleep otherwise.
We have learned by a newspaper-telegram from St. Petersburg that an
earthquake, preceded by a formidable underground noise, had shaken
Khabarovsk. It is very strange that nobody had felt it here. It comes
out that it is from a writing in a local paper, describing an earthquake
at the distance of 800 miles from Khabarovsk, but the correspondent of
St. Petersburg had omitted the 800 miles, and it is thus that the false
report spread out.
Every Sunday we give a grand dinner with a military band playing during
the meal. Our head-gardener is a veritable artist in the arrangement of
the dinner-table. There were always pretty bunches of flowers before each
plate. At the sound of a drum the gentlemen offered their arms to their
respective ladies and marched to the dining-room. One Sunday my cavalier
was a Chinese General, who had just arrived from Pekin. He watched the
way his neighbours were eating but made, nevertheless, fearful blunders,
and did everything wrong with his knife and fork. The French proverb
that “Nul n’est prophete dans son pays,” has no hold over that important
personage of the Celestial Empire, who is reckoned as an oracle in Pekin.
He has learnt thoroughly the mystic sciences from Indian fakirs. When
drinking my health he congratulated me, through his interpreter, at the
forthcoming birth of a son. He said he could read it in my eyes. Foolish
man! The mandarin gave me his visiting-card printed on a piece of red
paper on which was stated, in Chinese hieroglyphics, that he was the
bravest man in the army, and his wife, the most important lady in the
land. He was not very modest, the maggot.
Another day we had to dinner Mr. De Windt, an English writer, who
came for a few days to Khabarovsk, after having visited the Island of
Saghalien. In remembrance of our short acquaintance, he sent me his last
work from London, a very interesting novel.
A great Charity Bazaar was planned for Christmas. The biggest prizes were
to be a horse, a cow, a baby-bear, twelve suckling pigs and a couple
of rabbits. We made a great deal of money at the bazaar. I was doing
splendidly, and in about an hour or two there were no more tickets in my
wheel.
On the third day of the Christmas week, the Goldes organised dogs’ races
on the ice. Five pairs of dogs dragged the sledges. The fancy took me to
experience that mode of polar locomotion. I established myself sideways
on the shaft with my legs projecting over the sledge, and was afraid all
the time of the dogs who ran behind me biting at my heels; they really
looked as if they contemplated making their lunch off my legs.
I have been starved of music for long, and was enchanted when Kostia
Doumtcheff, a boy violinist, gave a concert at Khabarovsk. He is only
thirteen years old and has already toured the world as a “Wunderkind.”
His execution is quite extraordinary for so young a performer.
With the Chinese every month begins with the new moon. This year the
14th January was their New Year’s day. The Chinese quarter of the town
was brilliantly illuminated, and a procession of monsters made of
paste-board, marched through the streets. An enormous dragon made of
paper, a nightmare beast, was carried by Chinamen hidden from view,
giving the complete illusion that it was creeping along. The monster is
so long that a score of men is required to carry it. Behind the dragon
came Chinamen oddly arrayed, carrying garlands of coloured paper-flowers
and chains of fantastical form hanging on long poles, bearing huge
banners with different religious devices. All this was accompanied by a
loud flourish of trumpets, and the gongs made all the time an infernal
noise.
Towards the middle of April, when the weather became milder, a military
band played three times a week in the square. I listened to it lying back
on a rocking-chair on the veranda, feeling quite safe from observation.
We have a veritable menagerie in our garden. General Kopanski sent me a
pair of beautiful white swans from Nikolskoe; Tifountai presented me with
a deer; and a Golde brought me two sables, very wicked little animals,
who watched for every opportunity to snap at the legs of the passers-by
through the bars of the cage.
At the end of the month of May, Mrs. Kohan, my singing mistress, arrived
from Moscow with her two little daughters. Her husband has recently been
appointed military doctor at Khabarovsk.
In June Sergy went to inspect the troops beyond the Baikal mountains.
He will be away about two or three weeks. I dreaded to let him go so
far away, and decided to rejoin him on his way back at Sretensk, a town
situated at 2,500 miles from Khabarovsk.
10th July.—Except Mrs. Serebriakoff, who accompanied me on my voyage
to Sretensk, there were only two passengers on our steamer; one of the
directors of the Navigation Companies on the Amour, and a German pastor
from Vladivostock. We started at noon. A brilliant welcome was given me
at our first stopping place, a rich Cossack settlement; but I didn’t
leave my cabin, for I hate to share my husband’s honours when I am
travelling with him, and hate it still more when I am alone. Directly the
darkness came, we dropped anchor before another settlement, awaiting the
rising of the sun.
July 11th.—We started at dawn. The banks are very picturesque. We are
passing the green mountains of Hingan, which are clearly outlined on the
blue sky. Beyond these mountains one comes upon rich gold mines.
July 12th.—Towards night we dropped anchor on the coast of a Chinese
village on the left bank of the river.
13th July.—Early in the morning we passed Argon, a dirty Chinese town
with big pools of water here and there; one would need stilts to walk
across the unpaved streets full of children, pigs and evil smells.
Towards noon, we arrived at Blagovestchensk, a large and populous town.
Declining the honours the authorities of Blagovestchensk wished to
bestow on me, I telegraphed to General Arsenieff, the governor of the
town, that I could receive no one on board, having decided to play the
invalid, and was disagreeably surprised to see that a great crowd awaited
me on the quay. Mrs. Arsenieff forced my cabin door open and transmitted
to me three big bouquets tied with broad ribbons, sent by her husband,
the chief of the Cossack regiment quartered at Blagovestchensk, and the
Prefect of the Police.
July 15th.—The weather is lovely. We glide rapidly on the calm water. The
banks are deprived of life. I have the impression of travelling in the
land of the “Sleeping Beauty,” not a sound around us.
July 16th.—We stopped at midday before a Cossack settlement. The steps
leading to the quay were covered with red cloth and strewn with flowers;
a triumphal arch was erected, bearing at the top my monogram. Under the
arch stood two “atamans.” A group of young girls, dressed in their best,
came to offer me flowers.
July 17th.—This morning we met a steam-launch carrying on board the
Archbishop of Blagovestchensk, going to inspect his diocese. Towards
night, we saw a raft, twice as large as our boat, transporting emigrants.
A wooden fire was burning in the middle of the raft, around which horses
and peasant-carts were piled. We came to grief at night, running on the
bank in the dark, and had to drop anchor on the Chinese shore before a
small town, having broken the screw. Navigation is difficult in these
parts because of the strong current.
July 18th.—At dawn my maid came to wake me. She told me that a Chinese
General, the Governor of the town before which we were anchored, was
standing on the quay, sword in hand, waiting to be presented to me. But
our interview didn’t take place. We sent a rocket by way of compliment
to the warrior of the Celestial Empire, and glided past him. After
dinner, we came alongside a large Cossack village where we were to halt.
A number of girls with their school-mistress and a platoon of Cossacks
were standing on the quay. The chief of the platoon sent up a loud cheer
for me, and his men threw up their caps in the air and shouted themselves
hoarse.
July 19th.—We are passing the whole day before the stations named “The
Seven Capital Sins.” Towards night we stopped before the “Fourth Sin.”
These stations have been fitly named: their aspect takes away every
desire to sin. I never saw such God-forsaken places!
July 20th.—We glide through districts completely submerged by the recent
overflowing of the rivers. Whole villages disappeared under the waters.
There was great distress and great poverty everywhere; my heart ached
for the poor inhabitants. Steadily the waters ascended and the raging
torrent tore off the trees, breaking them away. It was a scene of
desolation like the deluge. The houses, the cattle, the fields, all were
destroyed. Now a window, now a door tore past; chimneys, slates, tiles,
whirled about like so much paper.
July 21st.—We passed this morning before a Cossack settlement without
stopping. On the quay a platoon of Cossacks was ranged. The men started
running after our boat along the bank, shouting hurrahs to me as to a
queen. Indifferent to all their honours, I only counted the hours which
separated me from my husband.
Towards midday we approached Sretensk. Sergy was waiting for me on the
quay, surrounded by a large suite and a group of ladies, who came up to
greet me. I immediately went over to Sergy’s boat on which I received
many visitors. During dinner we suddenly heard loud shouts of alarm. It
was a big raft full of emigrants which had broken loose from the shore
and was drifted straight on to us. It had been rather a bad moment. In
less time than it takes to write, I had jumped out on the quay, and just
in time, for a collision took place; the raft struck against our boat and
was carried away further by the torrent. A steam-launch was sent after
it, which brought it back safe and sound to the port. In the evening
there were fireworks on the quay.
July 22nd.—A Te Deum has been performed this morning on the square before
the church, after which my husband reviewed the troops. Before leaving
Blagovestchensk, Sergy gave a grand lunch to all the military chiefs on
board.
We started back to Khabarovsk in the afternoon. A large company of ladies
and officers accompanied us in a steam-launch to the first stoppage. We
landed and walked through the village and visited a Cossack one hundred
years old.
July 23rd.—We are going swiftly down the “Amour.” Towards evening
we landed at Mokho, a large Chinese town, where we were invited to
dinner by a Chinese General, the chief of the district. We saw him
advancing towards our boat with measured steps, accompanied by his
suite. He greeted us with great dignity, and when the usual ceremonies
were terminated, after much bowing and scraping, according to Chinese
fashion, the Mandarin conducted us to his abode, a small cottage with
a dilapidated-looking roof. Before the cottage my husband was received
by a Chinese guard of honour, who after having presented arms, threw
themselves face downwards on the ground. At the sound of an enormous
drum they stood up, shouting piercingly, and raising up their halberds
in the air, whilst all around rifles were being fired. Chinese soldiers
were standing in groups, carrying signs of their rank on their back
and chest, written on disks of white stuff. We entered a square room
and took our place at long table set with Asiatic dishes, amongst
which a sucking-pig occupied the first place. I sat on the right of
our host, who was very attentive to my wants; he piled my plate high
by means of small ivory sticks. The table was spread with all sorts of
curious looking foods. This wonderful dinner did not come in courses,
but the whole of it was placed on the table at once—a Gargantuan meal:
soft-shell crabs, sausages of mouse-meat, little fried animals looking
like spiders and other horrid things stood in a long procession. Every
dish was unfamiliar; I didn’t know at all what I was eating. Having at
last discovered a dish to my taste, I helped myself with a fresh portion
of it, and oh, horror! it appeared to be dog’s meat. The Chinese General
clinked his empty goblet with my glass full to the brim, which signified
that I had to drink the whole contents of it. Our host never cuts his
nails as it seems, for they were of phenomenal length, veritable claws. I
was told afterwards that the length of the nails of a Chinaman are a sign
of aristocracy: it means he never works. Through the half-opened door we
saw a crowd of Chinese soldiers straining their necks to peep over each
other’s heads and satisfy their curiosity. At parting, our host bade us a
courteous farewell, and presented me with several pieces of silk.
24th July.—We travelled to-day from sunrise to sunset without stopping.
25th July.—We arrived at Blagovestchensk in the afternoon, and will leave
to-morrow at dawn. The Governor and his family came to dine on board.
26th July.—It was about three o’clock in the afternoon when we arrived at
Khabarovsk. A great crowd was on the quay to greet us. I was glad to find
old friends and bowed and smiled from right to left, shaking hands with
people as we passed. I received a whole harvest of flowers.
The railway between Khabarovsk and Vladivostock is opened. Vladivostock
can be reached now in four days.
In September Sergy had to go up to Vladivostock, where he had some
business to attend to. He sent me news regularly. On the 11th September,
the anniversary of our sojourn at Khabarovsk, Sergy thanked me by wire
for having shared his exile during a whole year.
The inauguration of the gymnasium for young ladies took place on the
30th August. The head-mistress and the architect who constructed the
gymnasium, met us at the door at our arrival, followed by one of the
youngest pupils, a pretty little girl, who recited an ode composed in
favour of my husband, with a little complimentary address to me, after
which the bishop performed a Te Deum before the image of St. Barbara, my
Patroness, which was painted from my portrait.
There is a museum at Khabarovsk in which, amongst other local
curiosities, I saw horrid busts of different murderers who had died at
Khabarovsk during their penal servitude. The most repulsive bust is that
of a convict who had killed and devoured his comrade. I could not have
believed it possible to put such a thoroughly ferocious creature into wax.
A steamer has just come in, towing a large barge with about one hundred
women sentenced to penal servitude, who are to be taken to the Island of
Saghalien, where women are in a minority, in order to cohabit with the
male convicts.
We were dreadfully struck and grieved to hear of my brother’s death,
and soon after came a telegram from St. Petersburg announcing that our
Emperor had departed this life. His Majesty fell dangerously ill during
his stay in the Crimea, and died in October. The oath of loyalty to
Nicholas II., who succeeded to the throne, was given in the cathedral
by all the military and civil functionaries serving in Khabarovsk. The
town is in mourning; there is not a yard of crape left in the shops. In
November the betrothal of Nicolas II. with Princess Alice of Hessen, the
granddaughter of Queen Victoria, took place.
The “hounhouses” (Chinese bandits) cause a great panic amongst the
officials serving on the railway line. Quite recently the brigands
attacked a railway station, and murdered the station-master and his
family. It was found out that the bandits were Chinese soldiers, by a
standard that they had dropped at the station.
On Christmas Eve the village children came up from the nearest villages
to sing their carols under our windows. On Christmas night a giant
Christmas-tree was set up in our hall for the school children. It was
sparkling from top to foot with decorations of fringed and coloured paper
and glittering glass-balls; the dark green boughs were hung with gilded
apples, pears, walnuts, etc. On the table round the Christmas-tree lay
the gifts to the children, who walked into the hall by twos and twos. I
handed out the presents to the girls, and Sergy to the boys. Every girl
received a present adapted to her wants and her wishes. On Christmas
Eve the head-mistress of the gymnasium had disguised her porter into
Santa Claus, the children’s friend, who looked a real Father Christmas
with a large white beard. The girls had to write a letter to the good
saint, and to explain in it what they wanted Santa Claus to send them
for their Christmas present. The pupils of the small classes asked for
dolls, except one little girl, a premature coquette, who had chosen a
looking-glass for her Christmas gift.
On Easter night a group of emigrants, who were returning home after
midnight service, whilst crossing the cemetery, heard a voice screaming
pitifully for help. The cry was repeated at short intervals. They stared
at one another perplexedly. “What’s that?” they called out loudly. “It’s
I!” said someone close at hand. It was a vagabond who had fallen into
a newly-dug grave, together with a goat which he had just stolen. The
emigrants knotted their sashes and slipped down the improvised cord,
ordering the man to recite the Lord’s prayer to be convinced that it
was not the evil spirit who was playing tricks with them. The vagabond
had the unhappy thought to tie his goat first to the rope, and when the
emigrants perceived a long beard and a pair of horns, they took to their
heels and ran away, leaving the vagabond to his sad fate, persuaded that
they had seen the devil. It was only at daybreak that the vagabond was
hoisted up, in a very pitiful state.
At last we are going to have some good music. A travelling opera-troup,
making a tour in Siberia, has just arrived at Khabarovsk to give a series
of performances. The lady who substituted the orchestra and accompanied
the artists on the piano, came to invite us to assist at their first
performance, given in the Social Club. She told us how she despaired
because she was unable to find black tights for Siebel, which had been
torn on the way. No such thing was to be procured in Khabarovsk. We went
to hear “Faust.” Sitting in a corner of our box I listened to Gounod’s
divine music, and the thought of my pleasant life at Moscow came upon
me with a sharp pang. I was on the point of bursting into tears. The
performers were all second-rate artists. Faust had no great voice,
Margaret looked rather clumsy, Mephistopheles was always in danger of
degenerating into a buffoon, and Siebel, in darned tights, had a fine
mezzo-soprano, but was too fat. (There is nearly always something too
much or too little with everybody.)
The baritone of the opera-troup was at the same time a piano-tuner, and
came to tune our “Erard.” It was only once a year that a professional
tuner came from Blagovestchensk to repair pianos for 25 roubles per
instrument. We have an amateur tuner at Khabarovsk, a colonel, who
repairs the pianos for three roubles only, for the benefit of the
Benevolent Society, but it is true that in his tuning there is more
benevolence than skill.
I was not in very good health for the present time and had fits of
depression and apathy at the thought of all the dear ones left in Russia.
Sergy, who was terribly worried about me, decided that I needed daily
exercise, and made me walk up and down our large hall, counting all the
time I went round, to make one mile. But I didn’t become rosier for all
that, because it is not exercise I wanted, but cheering up.
Rumours of strained relations between China and Japan spread about.
A colonel of the general staff, sent by my husband to Tokio, gave us
alarming news. Complications burst out between the two countries and
soon war broke out. At the first combat of the outposts the Japs put
to defeat the sons of the Celestial Empire. It was a headlong flight;
twenty thousand Chinese soldiers went over to the enemy, abandoning
their rifles. The Japs have sunk several Chinese cruisers, and have
invaded Manchuria, where everything is put to fire and sword. There
was an armistice of three weeks between China and Japan, during which
Likhoundjan, the viceroy of China, was sent to Japan as Ambassador
for negotiations of peace. He was wounded by a pistol-shot by a Jap.
Fearing to be poisoned by the enemies of his country, he refused to be
treated by Japanese doctors, and a German physician had to be sent to
him from Berlin. For some time uncertain news arrived from the seat of
war. At last we were informed that peace had been signed, when a second
despatch was received, telling us that the Emperor of Japan had refused
to ratify peace. Russia, together with France and Germany, insisted that
the Japanese troops quit Manchuria, but the Japs insist on remaining and
become more and more arrogant.
They say that Russia is going to occupy Manchuria, but they say such a
lot of things! Sergy has received a cipher telegram from St. Petersburg,
from the chief-commissary, asking him what is the quantity of provender
necessary for the Siberian army, in case of war. Sergy is very much
disturbed; the feeling of his responsibility weighs upon him. If our
troops are sent out to Manchuria we shall remain quite helpless and
unprotected here!
Japan having taken a menacing attitude towards Russia, my husband has
received the order to prepare his troops to be ready for battle. The
mobilisation must be completed in the month of April. At the thought that
war was about to be proclaimed, my courage failed me. When I called to
mind all the hardships I had to endure during the Russo-Turkish war, I
could do away with myself.
A subsidy has been given to the officers in order they might supply
themselves with saddle-horses. We have organised a committee of Sisters
of Mercy. The three Governors subordinated to my husband are now at
Khabarovsk. Every night they deliberate in our house on different
preparations for war, together with a great number of generals and
officers.
As soon as the misunderstanding with Japan began, a great number of
functionaries sent out their families to Russia, by land; one couldn’t
travel by sea for the moment, because Japanese men-of-war swarmed in the
neighbourhood of Vladivostock. Sergy wanted to follow their example, and
send me away, but I would not part with him now, and announced positively
that I should not move from here.
The Chinese inhabitants of Khabarovsk, fearing the invasion of the Japs,
sell their houses, their furniture, their shops. The Bishop performed a
Te Deum on the square before the cathedral to the troops quartered at
Khabarovsk. When the service was over, my husband said a few words to
the soldiers concerning the war that was going to break out. Our brave
warriors shouted in chorus “We are ready to fight to the last drop of our
blood!”
Our fleet started for Tchifou, to cut all communications with the
Japanese army, in case the Japs would not consent to our proposals for
giving up Manchuria to China. We are waiting for the decisive answer to
Japan concerning the ratification of peace. God grant that it may be
satisfactory!
Hurrah! On the 20th of April the Minister of War sent a telegram to my
husband announcing that Japan had consented to our terms. I could jump
for joy!
Though peace was signed, the Embassies and Consulates continue to be
guarded by the troops in Japan.
At last we are completely tranquillised. My husband has received orders
to clear away all the mines from the Japanese Sea.
A false report has been spread at St. Petersburg, that Sergy had ordered
all the Japs to leave the Provinces of the Amour. He hastened to inform
the Minister of War that, on the contrary, six hundred Japanese workmen
had just arrived to construct the Manchur railway-line.
Hot weather has set in. Swarms of mosquitos and midges fill the air.
When sitting after dinner on our terrace, we hear the drums beating for
the evening retreat. At nine o’clock punctual, three rockets are fired;
a military band begins to play and march, and the musicians walk all
round the Public Gardens; on returning to the music-kiosque they sing
the Lord’s Prayer and our anthem. One night a retreat on the water was
organised. The musicians were placed in a large barge towed by a steamer.
The Amour, lighted by the full moon, and the barge decorated with
different-coloured lanterns, gliding smoothly on the water, producing a
fairy-like scene.
Two Frenchmen, who were passing through Khabarovsk on their way from
Japan, were invited to dinner by Sergy: Mr. Lallo, a correspondent of the
“Illustration,” and the Vicomte de Labry, the military agent of Tokio,
who was resplendent in his uniform of the “Chasseurs d’Afrique.”
An Italian yacht, the “Christopher Columbus,” bearing the Prince of the
Abruzzes, the nephew of King Humbert, has arrived at Vladivostock, but
the Prince didn’t proceed further on to Khabarovsk.
A body of a thousand soldiers, was sent back to Russia, _via_ India
and Odessa, on a ship belonging to the Volunteer Fleet. It is for the
first time that they have been sent by water; they had to travel before
through the whole continent of Oriental Siberia. At the moment when the
boat was to start, one of the soldiers was arrested. His crime had just
been discovered: he had poisoned his wife, wanting to return solo to his
native land. He was already shouting hurrah in chorus with his comrades,
when he was seized and conducted to prison.
There came an urgent telegram calling my husband to St. Petersburg on
business. It was too good to be true! I felt like an escaped prisoner,
and counted the hours when we should start to Russia.
On my last reception-day, Colonel Alexandroff, the secretary of the
Benevolent Society, addressed a panegyric to me, and presented an album
with the photographic group of all the members of the Benevolent Society
with their signatures.