PERM TO CALAIS.
THE _Perm_ was a large and comfortable vessel, replete with every modern
appliance, even to a piano and electric bells, and I doubt whether one
would have found a better cuisine on a Cunarder or White Star Liner.
But, despite her gorgeous fittings, she was filthily dirty, and her
cabins infested with vermin, so much so, that sleep at night was out of
the question. This was probably due to the large number of deck
passengers she carried, among them a large number of Kirghiz Tartars,
fine, well-built fellows, and a striking contrast to their squat, stumpy
brothers in Mongolia. Many wore the native dress: a kind of woollen
night-cap, which can be pulled down over the ears and neck in cold
weather, and loose baggy trousers, stuffed into short butcher-boots. A
loose coat worn over the shirt, open at the neck and wide at the
sleeves, with a belt round the waist, completed the costume. In winter a
short pelisse of sheep’s wool (called Poloushouba), is also worn, the
wool inwards. The Kirghiz Tartars are Mahometans, and their grave,
reserved demeanour was a strange contrast to the buffoonery and
skylarking proclivities of our merry little friends of the Gobi Desert.
The ordinary daily life of the Kirghiz, however, differs but little from
that of the latter. The tents of the former are exactly the same shape,
and of the same material, as those we saw in Mongolia. The Kirghiz, too,
is quite as gluttonous and filthy in his habits as the Mongolian Tartar,
and, unlike most Mahometans, is given to getting drunk on the sly. In
one point only do they differ: the zealous and watchful eye that a
Kirghiz keeps upon his womankind would be ridiculed by the
happy-go-lucky, trusting Mongol, and yet I fancy, with all his care,
that the wife, or wives, of the former are really not a whit more
virtuous than the ladies of Mongolia, for all their yashmaks and assumed
modesty.
We experienced cold and rainy weather all the way to Kazan, which was
reached on the 3rd of October.
The scenery of the Kama and Volga rivers differs little from that of the
Obi, and though the latter would be called a fine river in Europe, it
appeared dwarfed, in our eyes, into insignificance after the huge
lake-like Yenisei and Obi. The navigation of the Volga is in parts
extremely dangerous, but the risk small, for dangerous channels are well
marked with buoys, and after dark by barges, on board of which huge
bonfires are kept blazing all night. On clear nights this had a pretty
effect, and the avenues of fire reflected in the dark water, the green
and red lights of passing steamers, towing huge, shadowy lighters up or
down stream, the dark, starlit sky, and voices of distant boatmen, as
they trolled out some river-song, was impressive and picturesque. But
the nights were getting very cold, and we did not spend much of our time
on deck, preferring even the stuffy saloon, with its smoky atmosphere
and smell of stale food, to the cutting north-easter outside.
We stayed at Kazan six hours. This city, which may be called the true
boundary between European and Asiatic Russia, is about seven versts from
the landing-stage, with which there is communication by tramway. As a
town, Kazan is unique. The ancient Tartar capital, it has outwardly kept
up many of its oriental customs and all its Eastern appearance. The
veiled faces of the women, the fierce, swarthy Tartars in wild, barbaric
costume, bristling with daggers and cartridge-belts, the mosques,
minarets, and oriental-looking houses, mingling in strange incongruity
with the modern stone houses of the Russian population, _à la mode de
Paris_, four stories high, with balconies, _porte cochères_, and carved
façades, made one almost wonder whether the long journey from China had
not turned one’s head and indelibly mixed Europe and Asia in our minds,
even to the objects around us. But the streets of Kazan are,
notwithstanding their varied architecture, regular, well-built, and
gas-lit. There is not much trade, the exports being principally hides,
tallow, and iron. Costly weapons are made by the Tartars, swords,
pistols, and scimitars, with hilts and barrels inlaid with gold and
silver.
The best society in Kazan is equal to that of Moscow or Petersburg, some
Russian families having settled here since the days of the expulsion of
the Tartar dynasty. A charming person, Madame ————, who was proceeding
to Vienna on a visit to her sister, joined us here. She had been married
four years, and had during that time only once left her husband’s
château in the environs of Kazan.
Madame ———— was a native of Moscow, spoke French like a Parisian, and
sang like an angel. From this point to Nijni Novgorod was pleasant
enough, for we managed, by dint of bribery, to get the piano removed
from the crowded saloon to a smaller cabin on the lower deck, and had a
couple of pleasant musical soirées together, the quartette consisting of
our three selves and the captain, who sang Volga boat-songs in a sweet
tenor voice, and was, though Siberian, a charming and well-educated man.
Madame ————, though she had been banished for so long from the civilized
world, was a delightful companion. Her knowledge of England and English
literature was, however, somewhat limited. I asked her, on one occasion,
if she liked English authors as well as French. “No,” she replied, “I
can’t say I do. There is such a sameness about English writing; though
it is true, I have only read two English books.” On asking her which,
she replied, “‘The London Journal’ and ‘Bow Bells’!” No wonder she had
not the highest opinion of British authorship!
I was quite sorry, when we reached Nijni Novgorod, to bid the little
lady adieu. One is not often blessed with such a pleasant travelling
companion in civilized regions, much less in these unfrequented byways
of Europe. Nor did she seem the least dismayed at the long journey
before her alone and unprotected; but Russian women are the best
travellers in the world.
We passed, just before reaching Nijni Novgorod, a large white
paddle-steamer, built on the American principle, bound for Astrakhan, on
the Caspian. She was going full seventeen knots an hour, and churning up
the muddy water in a way that made the _Perm_ roll uncomfortably till
she was far astern of us. We also passed at least fifty barges between
Kazan and Nijni, laden with petroleum, from the Baku oil-wells on the
Caspian.
The Great Fair[19] was just over at Nijni Novgorod, and we had no
difficulty in getting rooms at the Hôtel de la Poste, an excellent inn,
which but ten days before had been crammed from basement to attic with
tourists from Moscow and Petersburg.
The city stands on a high hill, at the confluence of the Volga and Oka
rivers, and in fair time presents a strange and unique spectacle. The
fair is held on the left-hand bank of the Oka river, being connected
with the town by a long floating bridge, but at this season the river
itself is so covered with boats and barges, anchored for the sale of
goods, as to look like dry land.
“The scene from the town heights opposite,” says an eye-witness, “is at
the time of the fair indescribable.” There, embraced within the compass
of a glance, is the great fair of Nijni Novgorod. A huge flat sandy
plain, flanked by two great rivers, is covered over with houses of
different colours, mostly red and yellow, made of brick, wood, and
matting; millions of this world’s richest merchandise, stored or strewn
in every direction; churches, mosques, and theatres, rising in their
midst, three hundred thousand human beings more or less engaged in
buying, selling, trafficking, pushing, jolting, hurrying in every
direction; barges warped along the quays of two rivers, still busily
engaged in unloading their exhaustless cargoes. The river at your base
is the Oka, and running at right angles to it, at the point exactly
opposite to where you are, the still mightier Volga mixes its waters
with it. On reaching the quays below a low wooden bridge, very much like
that which spans the Rhine at Mayence, crosses the Oka at a point about
a verst distant from its embouchure. This is the only means of
communication, except by water, between the town and the fair. Behold
crowds on foot, in carriages, and on horseback; droves of bewildered
cattle driven by bearded, wild-looking men in gaudy coloured barbaric
dress, carts heavily laden with jars, casks, sacks, boxes, and unwieldy
lengths of timber; grave-looking orientals with flowing robes and
Astrakhan hats, alone imperturbable in the midst of the thronging crowd;
the din, the trampling, the confusion, all vastly aggravated by the
mounted Cossacks, who, placed at intervals along the line on their
restive little horses to keep order, add greatly to the general
confusion. Add to all this that after it has been raining all day——and
it often does rain at Nijni Novgorod——the roads are not ankle deep nor
knee deep, but hip and thigh deep in slush and mud, and a picture of
this strange city during fair time is before you.
“I was struck,” says the same writer, “with the number of ‘Traktirs’ or
eating-houses of the poorer sort. It is no light matter to supply the
daily wants of two to three hundred thousand people. Formerly this was
left to private enterprise, but whilst the caterers grew rich, the
people suffered. Not a year passed without an epidemic of some sort
breaking out among the throng which attended the fair. This was owing
partly to the food, which was notoriously bad, and partly to the air,
which in the absence of drainage or any sanitary arrangements was
pestilential. The Russian Government grappled boldly with this double
evil. To meet the danger of unwholesome food, they established in
different parts of the fair cheap eating-houses, where for the sum of
eight kopeks (about twopence three farthings) the poorer classes could
obtain a substantial meal, consisting of ‘Shtchi’ or cabbage soup, black
bread _ad libitum_, and a favourite porridge called ‘Kasche.’ They can
also obtain for three kopeks (about a penny) enough tea to give them
half a dozen cups of that national beverage and three pieces of sugar.
Since these precautions have been taken, no serious epidemic has broken
out at the Nijni ‘Yarmark.’
“Although one can scarcely mention an article great or small, European
or Asiatic, that may not be purchased at Nijni Novgorod during the
months of August and September, the staple commerce is in tea, sugar,
iron, cotton, silk, and furs of all kinds. Most of the tea sold at Nijni
is black tea, yellow and white teas are also sold, but in retail, and an
enormous quantity of brick tea is also annually imported. This is called
‘Kirpitchni’ and is largely drunk by the Kalmuks and Kirghiz. The duty
on Canton tea is heavier than that on Kiakhta or ‘overland’ tea by a
considerable amount. Probably if it were not for the popular prejudice
that sea-transported tea loses its flavour, the amount of overland tea
would be considerably less than it is. With reference to this opinion
the following is the current doctrine held by the most experienced
Russian merchants on the subject. They hold not exactly that the sea
voyage injures the tea, but that the preparation of the tea for the
voyage, viz., the extra drying and exposure to the air which it has to
undergo in order that it may not be deteriorated by the damp atmosphere,
does undoubtedly affect its flavour, so that indirectly it comes to the
same thing. “The tea depôt,” says Mr. ————, “is certainly the most
picturesque part of the fair; it would be still more so if the Chinaman
with his pigtail could be seen. But there are no Chinamen at Nijni; the
tea and the Chinamen part company at Maimachin, near Kiakhta, and from
that point the trade is entirely in the hands of Russians.”
The fur quarter is perhaps the next most interesting part of the fair,
long galleries of booths, where miles of bear skins, wolf skins, fox
skins, beaver skins, and even sheep skins hang up on either side of your
passage. The more valuable skins and furs are carefully packed away in
drawers and not exposed to the vulgar gaze. Among these are the
beautiful blue and silver fox and beaver. The silver fox so called
because its coat is sprinkled with white silvery hairs, is, next the
beaver and sable, the most costly fur that can be bought. A single
perfect belly of the silver fox will fetch (at Nijni) as much as one
hundred roubles. Among the skins sold for warmth and not show, that of
the reindeer is perhaps the most popular. They are brought mostly from
the northern districts of Vologda and Archangel, and are of three
degrees of merit and value. The “Pijick,” or skin of the animal at one
month old, is the best; that of the “Oleni,” above nine months old, is
the least valuable.
Two other fairs are held at Nijni Novgorod, but they are small and
uninteresting. The one held in the month of January, on the ice, at the
mouth of the Oka river, is devoted to the selling and buying of wooden
wares, such as toys and boxes. Great numbers come in on this occasion
from the neighbouring villages, and it is looked upon by the peasants
more as an occasion of feasting and merry-making, than one of business.
In 1864 the ice on which the booths and “Traktirs” were constructed,
gave way, and a number of men, women, and children, and horses were
drowned. The other fair is held on the 6th of July, and is exclusively
for the sale of horses.
In May, the Volga frequently overflows its banks to a depth of several
feet, and covers the site of the 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. This may account for a good deal of the sickness that exists in
a very hot summer or early autumn. The fine for smoking in the streets,
during fair time, is twenty-five roubles. This is rigidly enforced, and
a second offence means imprisonment without the option. The arrangements
for protection against fire are excellent. Not only on land, but on the
river also, powerful fire-engines are stationed, and numerous little
hand-engines are posted at the most inflammatory quarters. In case of
fire, within three minutes of the alarm-bell, a dozen large engines
could be on the spot at any part of the fair, and being surrounded by
the Volga and Oka rivers, there is no lack of water.
The town of Nijni itself is well built, and its broad, steep streets
paved with asphalte in many places. They are lit by gas, and some of the
principal thoroughfares by electric light. Altogether, we were well
pleased with the city, the first we had yet seen without a single wooden
building to mar the beauty of stone buildings, that would not have
disgraced London or Paris, and yet forty years ago there were scarcely a
dozen stone houses in the place!
Leaving Nijni Novgorod on the evening of the 5th October, the following
morning saw us in Moscow, and comfortably installed at that luxurious
but expensive hotel, the “Slavenski Bazar,” an establishment almost
equal in comfort to the Hôtel Bristol in Paris, but about twice as dear
in its charges. The restaurant is, perhaps, one of the finest in the
world. In the centre of the latter is a large round tank covered with
white water-lilies, and fringed by reeds and riverside flowers, in which
swim lazily to and fro huge sturgeon and sterlet, brought daily from the
Volga, and which are chosen and picked out by divers with a small net a
couple of hours before they are eaten, thus ensuring perfect freshness.
The plan or general panorama of Moscow is not unlike that of Paris, the
city having its nucleus in the celebrated “Kremlin,” which I was
somewhat disappointed in, perhaps because it had so often been thrust
down one’s throat as a beautiful sight. The word “Kremlin” is derived
from the Tartar language, in which it means “fortress,” every town of
importance in Russia having its “Kremlin,” great or small. The walls of
the Moscow Kremlin are about seven thousand three hundred feet in
circumference, and enclose the Imperial palace, arsenal, and treasury,
besides three cathedrals, a monastery, a convent, and the tower of Ivan
the Great, which latter is about three hundred feet in height, and
commands, on a clear day, one of the finest views in the world. At the
foot of the tower stands the “Tsar Kolokol,” or “king of bells,” which
weighs nearly two hundred tons, stands twenty-six feet high, and has a
circumference of sixty-eight feet. This bell dates back as far as the
year 1674, when it was suspended from a wooden beam at the foot of the
tower, from which during a fire it fell in 1706. Its fragments lay on
the ground until the reign of the Empress Anne, by whose orders it was
again recast in 1733. By the falling of some heavy rafters during
another fire, in 1737, or, according to some accounts, owing to an
imperfection in the casting caused by jewels and other treasures having
been thrown into the liquid metal by the ladies of Moscow, a piece in
the side was knocked out; and the bell remained buried till the year
1836, when it was placed on its present pedestal by order of Nicholas I.
Moscow is essentially a city of bells and churches. Among the former are
some of the sweetest toned ones I have ever heard. This is due in a
great measure to the large amount of gold and silver used in the alloy.
Morning, noon, and night the bells of Moscow are never silent. Wake up
at four in the morning, and you will hear at least a dozen churches
(there are over four hundred) tolling for some religious service, or the
repose of a soul.
There are three cathedrals within the Kremlin: the Annunciation, where
the Czars are baptized and married; the Assumption, where they are
crowned; and the Archangel Michael, where they are interred. The latter
is, perhaps, though not the richest, the most curious, for it contains,
ranged round the walls, the coffins of all the Czars reigning between
1333 and 1696. Entering suddenly from the sunshine, it was some time
before we discovered that we were surrounded by some forty coffins, each
covered with a dark crimson velvet pall, bearing a gold embroidered
cross. Near the centre altar stood the bier of little Prince Dimitri,
murdered by order of the Czar Boris. Part of the face, which looks of
the consistency of dark leather, is exposed, and this is kissed daily by
many thousands of the faithful. A service was going on, at one of the
smaller chapels, the bright gleam of light around the Ikonostase and
white and gold vestments throwing the rest of the building into deeper
gloom, while the melancholy dirge which the priests were droning out for
the repose of some dead monarch, heightened the effect of the gloomy
scene.
The richest church in Moscow, if not the handsomest, is the Cathedral of
the Assumption, which dates from A.D. 1479. This cathedral was pillaged
by the French in 1812. It still contains, notwithstanding, treasure and
relics of fabulous wealth. Some of the pictures are literally covered
with diamonds and other precious stones; one, a picture of the Holy
Virgin, having attached to it jewels worth thirty million roubles. Among
the relics is one of the nails used at the crucifixion, and a portion of
the garment worn by our Saviour.
The Kremlin may be described as a town within a city, and a very quiet
dull town, for there is but little life or movement in its cobbled
grass-grown streets. To a student of architecture, however, it must be
interesting, for the Byzantine, Gothic, Arab, and even Chinese styles
are there mixed in glorious confusion. The palace, though it contains
magnificent reception-rooms, and millions of roubles have been spent on
its restoration, is an ugly, commonplace building, and detracts a good
deal from the picturesque appearance of the churches and buildings
around it, while the arsenal and treasury are positively hideous. Ranged
along the walls of the former are the cannon taken from the French.
There are eight hundred and seventy-five pieces in all, each bearing a
name upon their breech thus: “Le Valliant,” “La Ravissante,” “L’Eclair,”
&c. It was then, apparently, customary to christen cannon like ships in
the present day.
On leaving or entering the Kremlin by the Spasskoi Gate, every one must
uncover. The Russians are tetchy on this point, and a stranger
infringing the rule would have a bad time of it. The legend runs that
Napoleon I. is the only man that ever dared ride through the gate with
his hat on; but that, even in his case, a gust of wind sent it flying
before he was well through, much to the rage and discomfiture of “Le
Petit Caporal.”
The name of the latter is, strange to say, revered by all, and loved by
some in the Holy City, and it is rare to hear a Russian display
animosity towards France. There is rather a feeling of pity for the
thousands of unhappy soldiers who perished, frozen to death, on the
bleak plains around Moscow, during the retreat from that city, a
disaster that gave rise to the Russian expression, “I feel as cold as a
Frenchman!” The Muscovite excels even the Parisian in politeness. No one
ever dreams of entering a shop or restaurant covered, and the very
beggars in the streets salute each other with the air of nobles. On the
whole I have seldom seen a city I liked more on a short acquaintance
than Moscow, perhaps for the reason that it is utterly unlike any other
I have ever beheld. It is fairly clean, for Russia, but although the two
principal thoroughfares are asphalte-paved, the smaller streets would
disgrace a third-rate country town in England, and are in summer ankle
deep in dust, in winter a sea of mud and mire.
But although this city is, next to Constantinople, the earthly paradise
of the sight-seer, I will not trouble the reader with our peregrinations
round a city which has been so often and so graphically described. It
may be heresy to say so, but I must confess that the sight which
impressed me most was the poorly furnished room, with its camp-bedstead
and two rough wooden chairs, in the hotel, where brave Skobeleff
breathed his last, and under what deplorable circumstances!
We were not anxious to prolong our stay, for winter arrived with
unpleasant suddenness, on the 10th of October. The barometer, which had
at 2 p.m. been up to 70°, had sunk at 7 p.m. to only two degrees above
zero, and by nine o’clock snow was falling in thin white flakes. The
next morning it was nine or ten inches deep, and gangs of men were at
work in the streets flattening it down for sledge traffic.
I look back on Warsaw as the one bright spot in our journey. It will be
long ere I forget the bright sunny morning that we came upon its white
palaces and gardens, its squares and boulevards, after a tedious railway
journey from Moscow. Apart from the cheerful look of the town and
population, one felt one had reached Europe at last. The first thing
that strikes one on arriving at this so-called down-trodden city is the
preponderance of the female element; the second, how unusually
good-looking that element is. I think one sees more pretty women in five
minutes in Warsaw than in half-an-hour in any other European capital,
London thrown in. An ill-dressed Warsaw woman is an anomaly. Even the
lower orders seemed to know how to put their clothes on, for the Polish
woman has a _cachet_ of her own; has the “chic” of a Parisienne, with
the beauty of a Viennese, for nearly all are tall and well-made, with
good figures and graceful carriage. It is apparently the fashion among
the “smart” ladies of Warsaw to let small pieces of metal into the heels
of their boots, which make a clear ringing sound as they walk, and the
effect (on a pretty woman) is not unpleasing.
As Moscow follows Petersburg in fashions and customs, so does Warsaw
Vienna. The Russian tongue in Warsaw is seldom heard. No longer is the
sacred _ikon_ seen in apartments and bedrooms. Tea is drunk in cups,
_not_ glasses; but coffee is the favourite beverage of all classes. We
had evidently done with Russia for good, though the town swarmed with
the Czar’s troops in their ugly pea-soup-coloured coats and white caps.
Here, unlike most Russian and Siberian towns, the soldiers are
encouraged to walk about and show themselves, but I do not think I saw a
dozen uniforms the whole time I was in Moscow.
Reaching Vienna the 17th of October, ten days later sees us rattling
along in the eleven o’clock train from Paris for London, _viâ_ Calais. A
thick haze hangs over the Channel as we approach the coast. The sea is
of a dirty grey, and presents a very different appearance to when we
last saw it, blue and sparkling, in the Gulf of Pechili! It is with a
queer but pleasant feeling of rest and relief that we leave land at last
to step on to the broad white deck of the steamer _Victoria_, at Calais.
“Would you care to do it again?” says a casual acquaintance to whom we
have narrated our adventures, if such they may be called.
“Not for ten thousand pounds,” says Lancaster, emphatically. And yet, as
a ray of sun shines out of the mist, lighting up the white cliffs of
England, bright augur of the comfort and civilization we are nearing, I
cannot help thinking that to experience such a moment as this is well
worth even the discomfort and privations that have attended our long,
weary voyage from _Pekin to Calais by land_.
—————
Footnote 19:
The transactions at the fair of Nijni Novgorod are said to amount
yearly to over four millions sterling.
THE END
[Illustration: Map]
————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————
INDEX.
———————
Abukansk, 360.
Airak, 197.
Alexandrites (precious stones), 620.
Amherst in China, Lord, 91.
Amur, steamer on the, 106.
Angara River, the, its current, 367; its breadth, 481.
Antelope, the Gobi, 219.
Army, the Chinese, 75, 117.
Atchinsk, 561; its cheerful look, 562; the blacksmiths’ quarter, 563.
Atkinson, the English traveller, 369.
Axle, a broken, 558.
“Babington’s Curse,” 204.
Baikal, Lake, 362; the Holy Sea, 366; hurricanes, 368; steam
communication, 370.
Bain-Gol Pass, the, 301.
Balanskaya; the axle on fire, 551.
Bandits, Siberian, 459 to 463; 484 to 486.
Barge, a Prison, 614.
Batouyeff, M., 145.
Beetles, edible, 168, 203.
Beggars, Chinese, 52, 53.
“Bell with the ear torn off,” the, at Tobolsk, 606.
Bell of Moscow, the Great, 640.
Bell, John, the English traveller, 2, 368.
Berries, Siberian, as food, 497.
Biriousinsk, discovery of gold near, 540.
Black Nihilists, 363, 404.
Bogdanovitch, M., his collection in the Irkoutsk Museum, 426.
Bogotolsk, the boundary between Eastern and Western Siberia, 564.
Bokovskaya, post-station, 477.
Bolshoi-Kosoul, the boundary between Eastern and Western Siberia, 564.
Boris Godorinoff, the Czar, 606; the iron exile, 608.
Botolskaya, post-station, 552.
Boundary between Inner and Outer Mongolia, 217; between Eastern and
Western Siberia, 564; between Europe and Asia, 618.
Bouriattes, the, 442; their civilization, religion and language, 443;
conquered by the Cossacks, 603.
Bread, Siberian, 509.
Breakfast in Siberia, a, 349.
Brick tea, 151, 191, 298, 635; see Tea.
“Brousniki,” a kind of bilberry, 498, 594.
Burroughe’s Straits, in the Frozen Ocean, 465.
“Cage,” the Chinese punishment of the, 49.
Cairo, 9.
“Called Back,” Siberia as described in, 387, 491.
Camel, the Mongolian, 23, 221, 223, 250, 301.
Canal, a leviathan, 464; M. Siberakoff, 465; the railway as a rival,
466.
“Cangue,” the, a Chinese punishment, 49.
Caviare, fresh, 575.
Chaman religion, the, 429, 440, 444.
Champagne in Siberia, sweet, 414.
Chang-Chia-Kow, see Kalgan.
Chefoo, a Chinese watering-place, 25.
Cherkoff, Captain, of the Cossacks, 335.
Chiarini’s travelling circus at Tientsin, 31.
China, 1; a tea-garden, 20; fortune-telling, 22; salt-mills, 27;
coal-mines, 28, 141; life on a house-boat, 31 to 40; population, 38;
an execution, 47; punishments, 49; beggars, 52; roads, 64, 93, 120;
examinations, 74; the army, 75, 117; a funeral, 78; the women, 80;
pigtails, 81; coinage, 82; intoxication, 83; food, 84; gambling, 84;
cricket fighting, 85; a doctor, 85; a medical prescription, 86;
porcelain, 86; the Emperor, 88; the Queen Regent, 89; the Great
Audience Question, 91; the Imperial harem, 92; a railway, 95; the
Great Wall, 110, 126, 144, 148, 169; a mule litter, 115; an inn, 121;
a stove-bed, 122; irrigation, 125; an open-air theatre, 127; poppies,
140; religions, 159; see Pekin, Shanghai.
Ching-Ming-Ting, 140.
“Chow” dogs, 84.
Chukchee tribe, the, 434.
Chulim River, the, Siberakoff’s waterway, 465.
Cigarettes, Russian, 598.
Circus, a travelling, 31.
Clocks, sham, in Siberia, 477.
Coal-mines, Chinese, 28, 141.
Coinage, Chinese, 82.
Confucius, the temple of, at Maimachin, 296.
“Conversation Sibérienne,” 594.
Convicts in Siberia, 363; political prisoners worse off than criminals,
364, 406, 408, 448, 449, 556; a convict barge, 371, 614 to 616;
criminals from all parts, 372; a forger, 373; prison songs, 374, 532;
a remarkable story, 379; a dangerous character, 380; a Polish exile,
401, 553; fixing dates of past events, 402; letters for Europe, 403;
the English idea of Siberia, 404, 406; the mines, 404, 405, 412, 454,
540; a convoy, 406, 408, 411, 452, 532, 559; prisons, 363, 409, 447,
449, 488, 491, 492; no chance of escape, 410, 489; well treated, 411;
food, 412, 447; costume, 412; punishment, 413; a dreaded spot, 436,
609; comparative liberty, 448; female exiles, 450, 452, 453, 532,
559, 560, 592; pioneers and colonizers, 451; “exile by administrative
process,” 453; runaway convicts, 459 to 462, 480, 485, 507, 511, 517;
_Katorgi_, 480; a prisoner’s wife, 534, 536, 539; a sad story, 536 to
539.
Cossacks, the, 130, 263, 264, 346, 407, 424, 428, 532.
Courier, a Russian Government, 130, 362.
Cricket-match in Shanghai, a, 15.
Cricket-fighting, 84.
Custom House, a Siberian, 375.
Czar, a courier of the, 130.
Da-Hun-Go, 179.
Death Lamas, 292.
De Staal, M., 3.
Dickens, the works of Charles, 157.
Dimitri, Prince, 606, 608, 641.
Dinner party in Siberia, a, 335, 337, 399.
Doctor, a Chinese, 85.
Dogs, edible, 84; Mongolian, 206; wild dogs of Kamchatka, 433; Ostiak,
586.
Dombrowski, M., a Polish exile, 553.
“Droshki,” a, 416, 577.
Eclipse of the sun, an, 422.
Eggs, stale, 414.
Ekaterinburg, 619; minerals, 620.
Evening party in Siberia, an, 335, 399, 549.
Executions in China, 47; a “substitute,” 49.
“Exile by administrative process,” 453.
Exiles, Siberian, see Convicts.
Feet of Chinese women, the, 80.
Ferry over the Tola, 263; the Irul, 317; the Selenga, 355; the Oka,
505; the Uda, 527; driving on board, 545.
Flogging; the “knout” and “pléte,” 412, 413.
Fortune-telling in China, 22.
Fruit-growing soil, a, 364.
Funeral, a Chinese, 78.
Fungus, an intoxicating, 431.
Furs; 463, 636.
Gadolovitch, M., the Whiteley of Siberia, 557.
Globe Trotters, 4, 109.
Gobi Desert, the Great, i. 22; “Shamo,” 186; scarcity of water, 188;
monotony, 193; sheep, 202; rats, 203; mole-hills, 204; the Russian
mail, 204; a Lama, 206, 255; the Mongol tongue, 208; the snuff
bottle, 210; Mongol tea, 211; a _souvenir_, 213; Mongol women, 214,
257; horsemanship, 216; the boundary, 217; sand grouse, 218;
antelope, 219; sport, 220; death of a camel, 221; thirst, 224;
sunstroke, 225; a sandstorm, 229; lost, 235; transparent stones, 238;
a freak of nature, 241 to 244; a storm, 246; a runaway camel, 250;
palmistry, 256; beautiful scenery, 262; a land of milk and honey,
263; we reach Ourga, 267.
Gold in Siberia, 396; 540.
Great fair at Nijni Novgorod, the, 632 to 636.
Great Wall of China, the, 110; offshoot at Nankow, 126; at Kalgan, 144,
148; its dilapidated appearance, 169.
Gribooshin, M., tea-merchant, 324.
Haircutter, a juvenile, 425.
Haldiéva, post-station, 567.
Hares, enormous, 310, 482.
Heart-rending story, a, 536 to 540.
Honeymoon in Siberia, a, 483, 499.
Hong Kong, 12.
Honour amongst escaped convicts, a point of, 518.
Horsemanship, Mongol, 216.
Hotel bill, a monstrous, 579.
House-boat, a Chinese, 31; nearly upset, 35; our crew, 36; rats and
cockroaches, 37; a thunderstorm, 40.
Ignatieff, General, Governor of E. Siberia, 386, 552. ———— the
Countess, 502.
Ilinskaya, wheel on fire at, 543.
Inn, a Chinese, 121 to 124.
Irkoutsk, 385; the Government, 386; the climate, 387; the “Moskovskaya
Podovorié,” 388, 393; the streets and pavements, 389; the shops, 390;
costume, 391; the ladies, 392, 400; military band, 393; rudeness and
vulgarity, 394; the gold-mining millionaires, 395; the tradespeople,
400; the _Jeunesse Dorée_, 402; the watchmen, 403; evening
amusements, 414; the market-place, 415; the “droshki,” 416; the
boulevard, 417; the eclipse of the sun, 422; a barber’s, 425; the
Museum, 426; a custom of the country, 455; police magistrates, 456;
morals, 457; the Opera, 468; moderate hotel bill, 469.
“Iron exile of Boglitch,” the, 608.
Irtish, the river; dangerous navigation, 595; desolate scenery, 596;
landslips, 599.
Irul, the river, 301, 313.
Ivan II., the conquests of, 600.
Ivanoff, M., tea-planter, 145.
“Kalatchi,” oatmeal cakes, 582.
Kalgan, 144; Russian hospitality, 146; comfort, 148; caravans, 150;
resembles an Arab town, 152; a street scene, 155; the mission, 157;
locked in, 161; partridge shooting, 166; wolves, 175.
“Kamaoulie Koloko,” the, 606.
Kamchatdales, the, 429 to 431.
Kamchatka, 426 to 428.
Kansk, 447, 549.
Karra, 363, 436.
“Kasche” porridge, 634.
_Katorgi_, see Convicts.
Kazan, 627; boundary between European and Asiatic Russia, 628; its
Eastern appearance, 629.
_Kazanetse_, the, 580, 582.
Kharra, the river, 301, 305.
Kiakhta, 320; the inn, 322; the town, 325; the bells, 326; the college,
331; the cathedral, 332; tea-merchants, 333; gambling, 334; a dinner
party, 336; the market, 344; the barracks, 349; drink, 352.
Kirghiz Tartars, the, 526.
“Kirpitchni,” brick-tea, 635.
Kluchevski, Mount, the highest volcano in Kamchatka, 427.
“Klysti,” or Flagellants, the, 419.
“Knout,” abolition of the, 412.
Kolestnikoff, M., postmaster at Kalgan, 166.
Koo-ash, the village of, 120 to 125.
Kootchoom Khan, 600, 601.
“Koo-Too,” the, 52.
Kootookta, the, 187, 268, 270, 285, 288.
Koriaks, the, 429 to 432.
Koumiss, 294.
Koutoulik, a pleasant evening at, 482; the ostrog, 493.
Krasnoiarsk, 447; red cliffs, 556; fire brigade, 557; founded by the
Cossacks, 603.
Kremlin of Moscow, the, 639; the cathedrals, 641; architecture, 642;
cannon, 643.
Kuriles, the, 432; queer customs, 433.
Kwang-Su, the Emperor, 88.
Kwi La Shai, 132.
Lady Missionaries in China, 157.
Lama, a, 206 to 209, 255.
Landslips in Tobolsk, 599.
Langtry, a portrait of Mrs., in a Siberian post-house, 359.
Lassa, the capital of Tibet, 270.
Lemmings, a migration of, 434.
Lew Buah, Captain, 163; his adventures, 164; we say good-bye, 178.
“Ling Chi,” death by the, 47.
List of post-stations between Irkoutsk and Tomsk, 571.
Listvenitz, a port on Lake Baikal, 362; the Custom House, 375; a
watering-place, 378.
Listvinskaya, post-station, 507.
Malta, 8.
Manchin Tartars, the, 75.
“Michel Strogoff,” 2, 387.
“Midshipman Easy,” the triangular duel, 339.
Missionaries in China, ladies as, 157.
Mole hills, 204.
“Molokani” or milk-drinkers, the sect of the, 419.
Monastery of St. Innocent, 477.
Mongols, the, 153; on a journey, 181; population, 187; lazy and filthy,
194, 198; the women, 195, 214, 283; a yourt, 196; gluttony, 197;
head-dress, 199; dogs, 206; a Lama, 207, 255; the language, 208;
interior of a tent, 209; the snuff-bottle, 210; a cup of real Mongol
tea, 211; a conversation, 212; a superstition, 213; wooden guiding
rods, 224; revolting specimens, 240; tobacco, 248; cleaner and better
mannered, 252; a belle, 257; disposal of the dead, 259, 290;
“Moo-moo,” 260; fear of death, 261; few people know anything of the
Mongols, 266; in Ourga, 282; grotesque appearance, 283; Golgotha,
290; our new drivers, 302; wakeful at night, 304; water-supply, 306;
a contented race, 309.
Monshafskaya, the village of, 363; wild fruit, 364.
Moonlight target-practice of the Russian troops, 346.
Moscow, 638; the “Slavenski Bazar,” 639; the “King of bells,” 640; the
cathedrals, 641; the Kremlin, 642; politeness, 643; the room where
Skobeleff died, 644; snow, 645.
“Moskovskava Podovorie,” the, at Irkoutsk, 388, 468.
Mosquitoes, 304, 314, 436, 530.
Mount Lavinia, 11.
Mule-litter, a Chinese, 115, 190.
Music, Siberian, 495.
Musketry by moonlight, 346.
Nankow, 125, 128.
“Napoleonists,” the sect of, 418.
Navigation of the River Irtish, 595.
Nempshinof’s mausoleum, 333.
Nertchinsk gold-mines, 363.
Neviansk, the watering-place of Ekaterinburg, 622.
Nicolaievsk to Tashkent, a journey from, 521.
Nihilists, see Convicts.
Nijni Novgorod, 630; Hôtel de la Poste, 631; the Great Fair, 632;
eating-houses, 634; overland tea, 635; furs, 636; two smaller fairs,
637; fire engines, 638.
Nijni Tagilsk, dining-room at the railway station, 621.
Nijni Udinsk, 447; the post-house, 527; the town, 529.
Obdorsk, the canal to, 465.
Obi river, the, 581 to 594.
Oka, the river, 504; the ferry, 505.
Okhotsk, “the end of the world,” 435.
“Oleni,” the skin of the reindeer above nine months old, 637.
Ostiaks, the, 442, 585.
Ostrogs, 363, 409, 447, 488 to 493.
Oural Mountains, the, 618.
Ourga, 267; the Mecca of Mongolia, 269; the Russian Consulate, 271; the
European cemetery, 277; depression, 280; Mongol women, 282; dogs and
beggars, 284; a Buddhist temple, 285; the huge figure of Buddha, 286;
Golgotha, 290; the death-chamber, 292; Maimachin, 295; the Temple of
Confucius, 296.
Ourouni, 213.
Outfit, our, 4.
“Palikao,” the bridge of, 46.
Palmistry in the Desert, 256.
Partridge shooting, 167.
Peiho, the river, 26; landslips, 37; a thunderstorm, 40.
Pekin, 53; dust, 54, 65; we lose ourselves, 55; insolence of the
Pekinese, 57, 83; the “Legation de France,” 58; the Hôtel, 58; the
capital of China, 60; the Roman Catholic Church, 62; the gates, 63;
the roads, 64, 93; the climate, 66, 99; small-pox, 67; dirt, 68; the
English Embassy, 69, 96; the Russian Minister, 70; the Tartar wall,
72; the observatory, 73; the Board of Examinations, 74; Mancha
soldiery, 75; a native cab, 76, 97; a street scene, 77; a funeral,
78; the _Pekin Gazette_, 79; the women, 80; the coinage, 82; the
“Jeunesse Dorée,” 83; cricket-fighting, 84; a doctor’s shop, 85; the
porcelain shops, 86; the Summer Palace, 87; the dogs, 97; no insect
pests, 97; the European population, 98; Jubilee Day, 100; a
disappointment, 104; our departure, 113.
Penang, 12.
Perm, 623.
_Perm_, the, 623, 626.
Petchora River, the, Siberakoff’s canal, 465.
Petroff, Colonel, 278, 280.
Petropaulosk, earthquakes at, 428.
Philipitch, founder of the Flagellants, 419.
Photography in Siberia, 579.
Piatko, at the junction of the Obi and Chulim rivers, 465.
Pigtails, 81.
“Pijick,” the skin of the reindeer at one month old, 636.
Pike, the Siberian, 278.
“Plète,” punishment by the, 413.
Podarojna, a, 445.
Poll-tax, a, 496.
Polovilnaya, post-station, 482.
Poloushouba, the, a pelisse of sheep’s wool, 627.
Ponies, Mongolian, 102, 118, 139, 154, 199, 201, 216, 234.
“Poorgas,” or Kamchatka snowstorms, 428.
Poppies, 140.
Porcelain, Chinese, 86.
Port Said, 9.
Posting in Siberia, 353; our “Troika,” 354; a strain on the nerves,
355; a ferry, 356; inadequate number of horses, 524; the post-horses,
346.
Postmaster, a Siberian, 348, 475.
Prayer-wheels, 209, 281, 287, 385.
Prescription, a Chinese, 86.
Prisons, see Ostrogs, Convicts, &c.
“Privatne,” or ordinary podarojna, the, 446.
Punishments, Chinese, 49, 50.
“Quass,” 323, 495.
Quicksilver in Siberia, mines of, 405.
“Rabchick,” the, a Russian partridge, 593.
Radovitch, M., 360, 376.
Railways in China, 95; in Siberia, 466, 575, 612; in Russia, 621, 623.
Rasgonnaia, ostrog at, 492.
Rats, edible, 84; Gobi, 203; Lemmings, 434; Siberia, 501.
Red Sea, the, 10.
Reiff’s Russian Grammar, 463.
Reindeer skins, 636.
_Reutern_, the, 597.
Ribinskaya, post-station, 551.
Route, our, 3; an alternative, 105.
Russian language, the, 463.
Russians, the, 145, 146, 294, 300.
“Russians of To-day,” the, 406, 491.
Sakhalien, the most dreaded prison in Siberia, 363; convicts sent by
sea, 409; formerly belonged to Japan, 429; climate, 436.
Salt, Ostiak hatred of, 588.
Salt-mills, Chinese, 27.
Samoyédes, the, 442, 588.
Sandflies, 304, 314.
Sand-grouse, 218.
Sand-storm, a, 229.
“Scotch woodcock,” 165.
Seals in Lake Baikal, 368.
Sects, religious, in Siberia, 418.
Selenga river, the ferry over the, 355, 357.
Shanghai, 12; the club, 14; sport, 15; hospitality, 16; the bund, 17,
18; the electric light, 18; the native city, 19; a tea-garden, 20,
21; fortune-telling, 22.
Sheep, Gobi, 202.
Shishmaroff, M., 264, 275, 278.
“Shtchi,” or cabbage soup, 624, 634.
Siberakoff, M., 144; his waterway, 145.
Siberia, 33, 70, 322; a dinner party, 335; a tarantass, 341; a
post-master, 348, 475; breakfast in barracks, 349; a farewell, 351;
posting, 353, 524, 546; a ferry, 355, 505, 527, 545; criminals,
exiles, &c., 364, 401, 448, 488, 493, 517, 530, 560; discomfort, 383;
climate, 385; books of travel, 387; wealthy gold-miners, 391 to 397;
dress, 391; washing appliances, 392, 576; gold, 396, 540; the ladies,
400; champagne, 414; eggs, 414; religious sects, 418; tribes, 426,
444; bandits, 459 to 486; scenery, 471; post-houses, 474, 500, 566;
telegraphs, 476; sham clocks, 477; a supper in the wilds, 483;
village prisons, 363, 488; eternal delay, 493, 525; monotony, 498,
525, 564; a cottage, 494; a swinging cradle, 495; music, 495;
berries, 497; a honeymoon, 499; rats and vermin, 501; lady
travellers, 502; our troubles commence, 503; timekeeping
extraordinary, 508; bread, 509; refreshment for escaped convicts,
517; wild flowers, 529; gold and silver, 540; reckless apathy, 565;
posting a letter, 574; photography, 579; the steamer on the Obi, 580;
the eternal _menu_, 593; “Conversation Sibérienne,” 594; meals, 598;
Ivan II., 600; conquest, 601 to 603.
Silver Fox, the, 636.
Singapore, 12.
Skobeleff’s room, 644.
Skopti, the, 418.
Small feet of the Chinese women, 80.
Small-pox, 67, 439, 516, 609.
Snuff-bottle, the, 210.
Soldiers, Chinese, 75, 117.
Sourikoff, M., the painter, 590, 619.
Sport; partridges, 165, 167; antelope, 220; wildfowl, 302, 314, 589,
610.
Squirrels, 586.
Staal, M. de, 3.
Stanley, reported murder of the explorer, 469.
Sterlet, 575.
Stone pillar near Ekaterinaberg, the, 618.
Stove-bed, a Chinese, 122.
“Substitute,” a, 49.
Subterranean passages at Tobolsk, 609.
Summer Palace at Pekin, the, 87.
Sun, an eclipse of the, 422.
Sunstroke, a, 225.
Taku, 26; the forts, 27.
“Tamerlan, the Target of,” 179.
Taoutinsk, post-station, 560.
Tarantass, a, 342, 561.
Target practice by moonlight, 346.
_Tasmania_, the wreck of the, 10.
Tchuan-Ha-Ho, 139.
Tea, 29, 45, 150, 211, 326, 493, 543, 575, 635.
Telegrams, low tariff in Siberia for, 345.
“Teliatina,” 593.
Theatre, an open-air, 127.
Thunderstorm on the Peiho river, a, 40.
Tielminskaya, the waiting-room at, 478.
Tientsin, 28; trade, 29; the hotel, 30.
Timoffeef, Yermak, 601 to 604.
Tiretskaya, post-station, 503.
Tiumen, 611; the railway station, 612; the town, 613; a convict barge,
614; a cheap place to live in, 617.
Tobolsk, 599; the province, 600; monument to Yermak, 603; the city,
604; precautions against fire, 605; the “Kamaoulie Koloko,” 606 to
608; very unhealthy, 609; subterranean passages, 609.
Tola, the river, 263, 278, 297.
Tomsk, 570, 573; cheerless appearance, 574; the Hôtel d’Europe, 575;
washing appliances, 576; carriages and horses, 577; smart gowns, 578;
hotel bill, 579.
Toogoorook, 214.
Tornado in the Gobi, 229.
Touloung, adventures at, 508 to 522.
“Tow-ists,” the sect of the, 159.
“Traktirs,” or eating-houses at the Great Fair, 634.
Trapeznikoff, M., a millionaire of Irkoutsk, 397.
Triangular duel in “Mr. Midshipman Easy,” 339.
Troitzkosavsk, a suburb of Kiakhta, 325; see Kiakhta.
Trout-fishing, 297.
“Tsar Kolokol,” the King of Bells, 640.
Tsiang-Shai-Poo, 141; the women, 142; Kentish scenery, 143.
Tungchow, 42.
_Tungchow_, the, 24.
“Tungouses,” the, 441.
“Tutinza,” the Cave Town, 178.
Uda, the river, 527.
Urga, 187; see Ourga.
Valentine’s meat juice, 192.
Vegetation of the Gobi, 204.
Verne, Jules, 2, 463.
Vultures, enormous, 246, 284.
Wall of China, the Great, 110, 126, 144, 148, 169.
Warsaw, 645.
Washing appliances in Siberian hotels, 392, 576.
Watches, the Emperor of China and his tutor’s, 90.
Watchman, a Siberian, 402.
Waterway, between Petersburg and Irkoutsk, 464.
Wheat in Tiumen, price of, 617.
“White Doves,” the sect of the, 419.
Wiggins, Captain, arctic explorer, 558.
Wild dogs of Kamchatka, 433.
Wild flowers, 204, 320, 415, 530.
Wild fowl, 302, 314, 589, 611.
“Wire shirt,” the punishment of the, 50.
Women; Chinese, 80; Mongolian, 195, 214, 283; Koriaks, 431; Kuriles,
433; Siberian, 496; Kirghiz, 627.
Wormoff, Professor, 334.
Yakouts, the, 435 to 438.
Yakoutsk, 436, 603.
Yellow tiles, the Imperial, 62.
Yemstchiks, 354 to 356, 416, 545, 548, 569.
Yeneseisk, founded by the Cossacks in 1619, 603.
Yenisei, the river, 552, 527.
Yermak Timoffeef, 601 to 604.
“Yourt,” a, 196, 206, 256.
Yurakis, the, 442.
Zalarinsk, post-station, 496.
Ziminskaya, post-station, 507.
GILBERT AND RIVINGTON, LIMITED, ST. JOHN’S HOUSE,
CLERKENWELL ROAD, LONDON.
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Transcriber’s notes
1. Silently corrected typographical and printer's errors; retained
non-standard spelling. Improperly spelled words in languages other
than English have been retained.
2. Adjusted two page number references in the List of Illustrations.
3. Italic text in the original is delimited by _underscores_, except
those that are only decorative.
4. Bold text in the original is delimited by =equal signs=.
End of Project Gutenberg's From Pekin to Calais by Land, by Harry de Windt