THE COLD ON THE WAY TO TOMSK.
The intense cold--Its inconveniences--The fine effects of light
at a very low temperature--The baptismal fête of Christ on the
Obi--Tomsk--Its commerce--An evening on the banks of the Tom.
I left Omsk on the 17th of January at one in the afternoon. This day
was intensely cold; the thermometer indicated almost fifty degrees! I
could hardly open my _bachelique_ when I wished to do so, in order to
admire the fine effects of light that invariably accompany so low a
temperature.
The snow, through some optical effect I am unable to explain,
presented, from certain points of view, reflections so dark as to
be almost black; and then, in contrast to these, innumerable little
crystals, reflecting the sun’s rays, sparkled with such resplendence,
that one might fancy he was admiring particles of diamonds scattered
over a rich velvet cloth. After a few hours of this journeying, we
came to a part of the steppe called the long grass, on account of an
abundance of it in these parts reaching a great height.
When I saw it, it was quite covered with a hoar frost. Towards evening,
when the sun was disappearing in the horizon, the mass received the
expiring rays and became dazzling white. The snow at the same time,
disposed to take its hue from the sky, presented a dark blue tint.
This fine spectacle, unfortunately, was of short duration. The sun had
now gone down, and a feeble, mystic twilight began spreading over this
immense plain, which presently became illumined by the aurora borealis,
suffusing the whole with its rosy hue.
It would be impossible to depict in words the diverse and ever-varying
tints I have witnessed, from time to time, beautifying Siberian
landscapes. When the cold is very intense, the play of light that
enters on the scene is far too subtile for art to give any conception
of it. It is during some of these beautiful transformations I have
mentioned that the light vapour in the air freezes; at these times,
I have seen shoals of fine crystals, almost imperceptible, swimming
in the air, glittering in the sunbeams, and casting their rainbows
superimposed on the horizon. As we see these colours in France,
generally in a more sombre sky, they are dull in comparison with the
lively, fascinating, and mystic hues presented here on an azure of
infinite purity.
A cold so rigorous is not without serious inconvenience to poor human
beings who venture to brave it. The part of the face around the nose
and mouth disappears completely, in a few moments, under a thick icy
coating, formed from the moisture of the breath; and as it is necessary
to remove this glacial crust from time to time, the operation occasions
much suffering.
To prepare at night for sleep, the Siberian wanderers are accustomed
to moisten their _bacheliques_, which speedily freeze and stiffen,
and thus present a solid partition or case, at a few inches from the
face. The respiration then congeals against the inner surface of this
improvised wall. But in spite of these precautions, when I awoke in the
morning, I found my eyelids completely sealed up with little icicles
around the lashes, which I was obliged to dissolve between my warm
fingers before I could open my eyes to the daylight.
Another strange effect of cold so intense may be seen on entering a
village, at an early hour, when the inhabitants are just lighting their
fires. The hot smoky air rising from the chimneys ascends straight up
to a certain point, where, becoming rapidly cooled and condensed and
meeting with a stratum of equal density, it commences spreading out
horizontally, on every side, like a kind of ceiling or canopy, and
this, increasing in thickness, obstructs radiation, and thus forms a
protecting cloud for the whole village.
Between Kolivan and Diorosno, two little towns, standing face to
face on opposite hills, the telegraph wires extending to Kiachta are
encased in a cable underground, an expedient adopted to avoid repeated
destructions of the communication by floods which occurred when
formerly placed on poles.
The Obi freezes in the same manner as the Oka; the protuberances are
so exaggerated in magnitude, that it is difficult to realize that they
cover the bosom of a river; they form, in fact, hills and valleys,
obliging the traveller to ascend and descend.
We arrived at Diorosno at eight in the morning, on the anniversary
of the baptism of Christ. A hole, about a yard in diameter, had been
made through a thick flooring of ice; and, through this aperture, the
Obi might be seen flowing rapidly towards the north, as if seeming to
make sport of the cold trying to arrest its course on the surface.
The clergy of the village, followed by a crowd of devotees, came in
great pomp to this hole to bless the water of this river. When the
ceremony ended, all the inhabitants drew near with their buckets,
vases, and vessels of all kinds, to fill them and then carry away to
their dwellings the water that had just been blessed. When they had all
taken what they desired, three or four fanatics divested themselves of
their clothing in the twinkling of an eye, plunged into the freezing
water, and dressing themselves again as hurriedly, hastily ran home to
warm themselves at their fires. These people consider it a miracle if
one escapes without perishing from the consequences of an act of such
rashness. I think that the short duration of the bath and the reaction
subsequently produced by the violent run are the chief safeguards
against danger.
After having passed the Obi, we entered on a country of most singular
aspect; it was still flat, but inclined, an inclined plane, in fact,
that rose gradually, seemingly without end, to the horizon. I think
that the magnitude of the rivers in Siberia arises, in the first place,
from the vastness of their basins, and then from these prolonged
inclined planes, that facilitate so much the descent of accumulating
waters. Whatever it may be produced by, this strange sloping land gives
rise to wonder, and at first brings on giddiness, especially when
one is gliding downwards. Although the slope is not very steep, the
sensation of slipping down gently into some distant, unknown abyss is
unpleasantly suggestive of danger. As the ground sinks under you, the
world might easily be imagined to have broken loose from its moorings,
and to be floating away to some inconceivable destination. One is
instinctively urged to put out his hand to seize something, but since
there is nothing but the bare ground in view, he is thrown back on
himself more completely, and this singular impression becomes all the
more vivid and painful.
We had now been three days journeying from Omsk, when, about five in
the morning, we were roused by some violent jerking from the rugged
ice of the Tom, which announced our approach, accomplished not without
difficulty, to the city of Tomsk. It is always a great relief in
Siberia, after a long journey, to have a resting place in view, and
then to arrive there. I made up my mind to stay a while in this city,
where the inn, by comparison, appeared relatively comfortable.
The chamber they gave me contained nothing more than is usual
elsewhere, but considered here completely furnished; still the room was
lighted by four great windows, and the floor was well swept. Finding
it therefore rather inviting, I opened all my trunks, and begged
Constantine to keep me company for a little time in this important
centre of Siberian commerce.
The city is divided into two parts, the lower city lying in the valley
of the Tom, and the upper perched on a hill, running along the right
bank of this river. The first is the business quarter; there are found
the bazaars and warehouses. The other, on the contrary, is composed of
elegant dwellings, at least elegant for the country, occupied by those
who have either acquired large fortunes, or are on the way to this
enviable object.
In order to have a good idea of the nature of the commerce of Tomsk
and its importance, it is necessary to have been an eye witness of
that disposition of the inhabitants of Western Siberia for a _far
niente_ existence on the one hand, and on the other, to know that
absorbing passion with which the Eastern Siberians devote themselves to
gold-hunting and the working of gold mines.
At Irkutsk, the centre of this second part of Siberia, the land is
fertile, and yet not a grain of wheat is put into it; the city is at
the confluence of three rivers, but, for all that, not a fish is taken
from them. Although there are in the neighbourhood iron mines, and
china clay of excellent quality for the manufacture of porcelain, all
these raw materials are neglected, and the material for building is
brought from the Ural, and domestic utensils from Moscow and even St.
Petersburg.
The inhabitants of Tomsk make profit out of the indolence of the
Western Siberians and the gold fever of the Eastern, and become corn
merchants, forage providers, butchers, and--what is surprising--the
fishmongers for nearly the whole of Siberia. The enormous distance
between Tomsk and other important cities, of which I have spoken,
might throw doubt on the soundness of such a view; but this commerce
is rendered quite possible from the curious effects of extreme cold on
aliments.
[Illustration: MARKET-PLACE AT TOMSK.]
One day, on dining on a plump fowl that had been placed before me,
I asked, from curiosity, how long it had been since the bird was
killed; they replied, in order to diminish the natural repugnance of
a Frenchman for anything not fresh, “Two months only; not more.” For
beef, no precautions are required to preserve it; it takes care of
itself. Nearly all the butchers kill, for a stock of fresh provisions,
at the commencement of the cold, a quantity sufficient for the
winter. There is no fear of any fresh aliment changing under such a
temperature. It is the same with the fish, which become so solid and
stiff, that they are set up on their tails against the walls of the
markets, be the tail ever so long and the fish ever so heavy.
The climate of Siberia has also very marked effect on the germination
and growth of grain: the sowing is done in May only, and in July the
corn is ripe for harvesting.
It is quite clear, besides, that the spring here in Siberia makes
its effects felt much more rapidly than in England or France. If one
watches the trees, their leaves and twigs, he will perceive very
sensible differences in the development from day to day. This arises
in part from the increased vigour of a sap long dormant under the
snow, but more particularly from the great length of the days, and
consequent increase of sunshine, whereby vegetation enjoys not only
considerably more heat and longer periods of diurnal activity, but from
the shortness of the nights, suffers a proportionately less share of
refrigeration and retardation of its development.[10]
[10] See note 3.
The inhabitants of Tomsk being always occupied, and principally in
the cultivation of the soil, have, on this account, preserved, more
scrupulously than elsewhere, the ancient Siberian customs. I will
mention only a few of them. In every house and even every room, one
or several lamps may be seen burning before some picture, some object
of piety, according to the day or religious solemnity. When a visitor
presents himself he bows two or three times, at the same time making
the sign of the cross before the picture; then, but not before, he
salutes his host in a manner according to his occupation at the
moment. If he is eating, they say: “Tea and sugar,” which signifies:
“I hope you will be able to put sugar in your tea.” This luxury here
is not given to everybody. On leaving the room, they say: “Rest in
peace!” When the inhabitants of Tomsk enter a shop, they make use of
an expression of this meaning: “I wish you may make a bargain with me
quite to your own advantage.”
Great quantities of merchandise are brought from China and the
Trans-Baikal and discharged at Tomsk during the summer, to be conveyed
hence by steamboats to Tumen, and this additional traffic adds
considerably to the wealth of the former city.
Tomsk is, it appears, one of the coldest spots in all Siberia.
During certain winters, the thermometer has been known to descend to
fifty-five degrees and remain for some time at this temperature, and
one is known even so low as fifty-eight degrees!
When I was here, the temperature, on the contrary, was less rigorous
than during my sojourn at Omsk. It snowed heavily for some days,
and that induced me to confine myself to my room, which I in no way
regretted, with the discomfort of so many long days and nights, just
passed in the open air, still fresh in my memory.
One night only, urged by some motive for exercise, and perhaps
adventure, I went out alone afoot, and took my way, musing, along the
banks of the river. The night was very dark, and heavy clouds veiled
the stars; but the ground was lighted up with the snow fallen during
the day. The frozen surface of the Tom was nowhere even, and I was
able to account for the joltings we had experienced in the sledge on
crossing this river. Blocks of ice were rising one above the other,
sometimes to a great height, presenting their edges upwards, and the
aspect of having struggled with tremendous force to escape from the
crushing embrace of the solid mass on which they rested. It might be
said to have been the result of a terrific combat between two great
forces of nature--between the river and the frost--the one visible and
vanquished, and the other invisible and victorious. Now, however, this
struggle was suspended till the time would come for the victory to be
reversed, and meanwhile all was motionless and silent.
I stood regarding it with awe for some time, like the pale visage of
death on whose features the convulsions of agony told some dreadful
tale. The night was too dark to distinguish the other bank of this
great river; and what was before me, in its chilling inhospitable
state--total estrangement from the world in this white solitude as
far as the eye could reach through the gloom--made me shudder in my
loneliness. It was the first time I felt myself so entirely abandoned,
so utterly cut off from the world, exiled from my country and home
and all that was dear to me. To think of taking to the sledge again,
and continuing my journey through this chilling air and darkness,
made me shrink with repugnance and fear. To struggle against such a
force as had stopped this gigantic river in its course seemed to me
foolhardiness. It was indeed a true picture of the extreme North I had
come so far as Siberia to see; and although I had gratified my longing
as a tourist to see wonders, I wended my way home overwhelmed with this
aspect of nature, and it required all the brilliant sunshine of the
morrow to brighten my mind with more cheerful thoughts, and give me
some courage to resume my journey.
One thing I noticed peculiar to Tomsk was the great number of Corean
servants, male and female, that are there met with. I asked the
governor the reason of this, and he informed me that many natives of
this land took refuge among the Russians to escape from the severe laws
in force there. “They know well enough that they will be well received
among us, for we have already a protectorate over their country.”
This announcement of a protectorate afforded me some matter for
reflection. The Corea, it is known, is only tributary to China. The
sovereign of this territory is opposed to Europeans, who are not only
not allowed to establish themselves there in any way, but are often
persecuted by this tyrant with extreme cruelty. The conquest of the
Corea by the Russians--a conquest quite imminent according to the views
of the governor of Tomsk--might, if accomplished, occasion important
modifications in our trading depôts of the extreme East. It would be an
important step towards the complete conversion of China and Japan to
modern ideas.