At Nicolayevsk it is half a mile from the anchorage to the shore. A
sand spit projects from the lower end of the town and furnishes a site
for government workshops and foundries. Above this tongue of land the
water is shallow and allows only light draft and flat bottomed boats
to come to the piers. All sea-going vessels remain, in midstream,
where they are discharged by lighters. There is deeper water both
above and below the town, and I was told that a change of site had
been meditated. The selection of the spot where Nicolayevsk stands was
owing to the advantages of the sand spit as a protection to river
boats.
After dining on the Morje we went on shore, and landed at a flight of
wooden steps in the side of a pier. The piers of Nicolayevsk are
constructed with ‘cribs’ about twenty feet apart and strong timbers
connecting them. The flooring was about six feet above water, and wide
enough for two teams to pass.
Turning to the left at the end of the pier, we found a plank sidewalk
ascending a sloping road in the hillside. The pier reminded me of
Boston or New York, but it lacked the huge warehouses and cheerful
hackmen to render the similarity complete. “This is Natchez,
Mississippi,” I said as we moved up the hill, “and this is Cairo,
Illinois,” as my feet struck the plank sidewalk. The sloping road came
to an end sooner than at Natchez, and the sidewalk did not reveal any
pitfalls like those in Cairo a few years ago. The bluff where the city
stands is about fifty feet high, and the ascent of the road so gentle
that one must be very weak to find it fatiguing. The officers who
came on shore with me went to the club rooms to pass the evening. I
sought the residence of Mr. H.G.O. Chase, the Commercial Agent of the
United States, and representative of the house of Boardman. I found
him living very comfortably in bachelor quarters that contained a
library and other luxuries of civilization. In his sitting-room there
was a map of the Russian empire and one of Boston, and there were
lithographs and steel engravings, exhibiting the good taste of the
owner.
Rising early the next morning, I began a study of the town.
Nicolayevsk was founded in 1853 in the interest of the Russian
government, but nominally as a trading post of the Russian American
Company. Very soon it became a military post, and its importance
increased with the commencement of hostilities between Russia and the
Western powers in 1854. Foundries were established, fortifications
built, warehouses erected, and docks laid out from time to time, until
the place has attained a respectable size. Its population in 1866 was
about five thousand, with plenty of houses for all residents.
Nicolayevsk is emphatically a government town, five-sixths of the
inhabitants being directly or indirectly in the emperor’s employ.
“What is this building?” I asked, pointing to a neat house on the
principal street. “The residence of the Admiral,” was the reply.
“And this?”
“That is the Chancellerie.”
“And this?”
“The office of the Captain of the Port.”
So I questioned till three-fourths the larger and better
establishments had been indicated. Nearly all were in some way
connected with government. Many of the inhabitants are employed in the
machine shops, others in the arsenals and warehouses, and a goodly
number engage in soldiering. The multitude of whisky shops induces the
belief that the verb ‘to soldier’ is conjugated in all its moods and
tenses. The best part of the town is along its front, where there is
a wide and well made street called ‘the Prospect.’
The best houses are on the Prospect, and include the residences of the
chief officials and the merchants. On the back streets is the
‘_Slobodka_,’ or poorer part of the town. Here the laborers of every
kind have their dwellings, and here the _lafka_ is most to be found.
Lafkas are chiefly devoted to liquor selling, and are as numerous in
proportion to the population as beer-shops in Chicago. I explored the
‘_slobodka_,’ but did not find it attractive. Dogs were as plentiful
and as dubious in breed and character as in the Sixth Ward or near
Castle Garden.
The church occupies a prominent position in the foreground of the
town, and, like nearly all edifices at Nicolayevsk, is built of logs.
Back of it is the chancellerie, or military and civil office, with a
flag-staff and semaphore for signalling vessels in the harbor. Of
other public buildings I might name the naval office, police office,
telegraph house, and a dozen others.
On the morning after my arrival I called on Admiral Fulyelm, the
governor of the Maritime Provinces of Eastern Siberia. The region he
controls includes Kamchatka and all the seacoast down to Corea, and
has an area of nearly seven hundred and fifty thousand square miles.
He had been only a few months in command, and was busily at work
regulating his department. He spoke English fluently, and was well
acquainted with America and American affairs. During my voyage on the
Variag I heard much of the charming manners of Madame Fulyelm, and
regretted to learn she was spending the summer in the country.
The machine shops, foundries, and dock-yard are described in Russian
by the single word ‘port.’ I visited the port of Nicolayevsk and found
it more extensive than one might expect in this new region. There were
machines for rolling, planing, cutting, casting, drilling, hammering,
punching, and otherwise treating and maltreating iron. There were
shops for sawing, planing, polishing, turning, and twisting all sorts
of wood, and there were other shops where copper and brass could take
any coppery or brassy shape desired. To sum up the port in a few
words, its managers can make or repair marine and other engines, and
produce any desired woodwork for house building or ship repairing.
They build ships and equip them with machinery ready for sea.
The establishment is under the direct supervision of Mr. Woods, an
American citizen of Scotch birth. Mr. Elliott, a Massachusetts Yankee,
and Mr. Laney, an Englishman, are connected with the affair. Mr.
Elliott had become a permanent fixture by marrying a Russian woman and
purchasing a commodious house. The three men appeared to take great
pride in what they had accomplished in perfecting the port.
It was a little curious to see at the mouth of the Amoor a steam fire
engine from the Amoskeag Works at Manchester, N.H. The engine was
labelled ‘Amoor’ in Russian characters, and appeared to be well
treated. A house was assigned it, and watchmen were constantly on
duty. The whole town being of wood it is highly important that the
engine should act promptly in case of fire. The supply of hose was
ample for all emergencies.
Several heavy guns were shown me, which were hauled overland from the
Ural Mountains during the Crimean war and brought in boats down the
Amoor. The expense of transporting them must have been enormous, their
journey by roads to the head of the river being fully three thousand
miles.
I spent a morning with Mr. Chase in calling upon several foreign
merchants and their families. The most prominent of the merchants is
Mr. Ludorf, a German, who went there in 1856, and has transacted a
heavy business on the Amoor and in Japan and China. Mrs. Ludorf
followed her husband in 1858, and was the first foreign lady to enter
Nicolayevsk.
The most interesting topic to Mr. Chase and the ladies was that of
cooks. Within two weeks there had been much trouble with the _chefs de
cuisine_, and every housekeeper was in deep grief. Servants are the
universal discomfort from the banks of the Hudson to those of the
Amoor. Man to be happy must return to the primitive stages of society
before cooks and housemaids were invented.
The hills around Nicolayevsk are covered with forests of small pines.
Timber for house building purposes is rafted from points on the Amoor
where trees are larger. Formerly the town was in the midst of a
forest, but the vicinity is now pretty well cleared. Going back from
the river, the streets begin grandly, and promise a great deal they do
not perform. For one or two squares they are good, the third square is
passable, the fourth is full of stumps, and when you reach the fifth
and sixth, there is little street to be found. I never saw a better
illustration of the road that commenced with a double row of shade
trees, and steadily diminished in character until it became a
squirrel-track and ran up a tree. There is very little agriculture in
the vicinity, the soil and climate being unfavorable. The chief supply
of vegetables comes from the settlements on the south bank of the
river up to Lake Keezee, and along the shores of the lake. All the
ordinary garden vegetables are raised, and in some localities they
attain goodly size.
Every morning there was a lively scene at the river’s edge in front of
the town. Peasants from the farming settlements were there with
articles for sale, and a vigorous chaffering was in progress. There
were soldiers in grey coats, sailors from the ships in the harbor,
laborers in clothing more or less shabby, and a fair sprinkling of
aboriginals. To an American freshly arrived the natives were quite a
study. They were of the Mongol type, their complexions dark, hair
black, eyes obliquely set, noses flat, and cheek bones high. Most of
them had the hair plaited in a queue after the Chinese fashion. Some
wore boots of untanned skin, and a few had adopted those of Russian
make. They generally wear blouses or frocks after the Chinese pattern,
and the most of them could be readily taken for shabby Celestials.
Their hats were of two kinds, some of felt and turned up at the sides,
and others of decorated birch bark shaped like a parasol. These hats
were an excellent protection against sun and rain, but could hardly be
trusted in a high wind. All these men were inveterate smokers, and
carried their pipes and tobacco pouches at their waists. Most had
sheath knives attached to belts, and some carried flint, steel, and
tinder. They formed picturesque groups, some talking with purchasers
and others collected around fires or near their piles of fish.
[Illustration: BOAT LOAD OF SALMON.]
As I stood on the bank, a Gilyak boat came near me with a full cargo
of salmon. The boat was built very high at bow and stern, and its
bottom was a single plank, greatly curved. It was propelled by a woman
manipulating a pair of oars with blades shaped like spoon-bowls,
beaten flat, which she pulled alternately with a kind of
‘hand-over-hand’ process. This mode of rowing is universal among the
Gilyaks, but does not prevail with other natives along the Amoor.
Whenever I approached a group of Gilyaks I was promptly hailed with
‘_reba! reba!_’ (fish! fish!) I shook my head and uttered _nierte_
(no,) and our conversation ceased. The salmon were in piles along the
shore or lying in the native boats. Fishing was not a monopoly of the
Gilyaks, as I saw several Russians engaged in the business. They
appeared on the best terms with their aboriginal neighbors.
Salmon are abundant in the Amoor and as much a necessity of life as in
Northern Siberia. They are not as good as in Kamchatka, and I believe
it is the rule that the salmon deteriorates as one goes toward the
south. Possibly the quality of the Amoor salmon is owing to the time
the fish remain in the brackish waters of the Straits of Tartary. The
fishing season is the only busy portion of the year with the natives.
[Illustration: AN EFFECTIVE PROTEST.]
The town is supplied with water by carts like those used in many
places along our Western rivers. For convenience in filling the driver
goes into the stream until the water is pretty well up his horse’s
sides. A bucket attached to a long handle is used for dipping, and
moves very leisurely. I saw one driver go so far from shore that his
horse protested in dumb but expressive show. The animal turned and
walked to land, over-setting the cart and spilling the driver into the
water. There was a volley of Russian epithets, but the horse did not
observe them. At a photographic establishment I purchased several
views of the city and surrounding region. I sought a watch dealer in
the hope of replacing my broken time piece, but was unsuccessful. I
finally succeeded in purchasing a cheap watch of so curious
workmanship that it ran itself out and utterly stopped within a week.
One evening in the public garden a military band furnished creditable
music, and I was told that it was formed by selecting men from the
ranks, most of whom had never played a single note on any instrument.
Writers on Russia twenty years ago said that men were frequently
assigned to work they had never seen performed. If men were wanted for
any government service a draft was made, just as for filling the army,
and when the recruits arrived they were distributed. One was detailed
for a blacksmith, and straightway went to his anvil and began. Another
was told to be a machinist, and received his tools. He seated himself
at his bench, watched his neighbor at work, and commenced with little
delay. Another became a glass-blower, another a lapidary, another a
musician, and so on through all the trades.
I have heard that an Ohio colonel in our late war had a fondness for
never being outdone by rivals. One day his chaplain told him that a
work of grace was going on in the army. “Fifteen men,” said he, “were
baptized last Sunday in Colonel Blank’s regiment, and the reformation
is still going on.” Without replying the colonel called his adjutant.
“Captain,” was the command, “detail twenty men for baptism at once. I
won’t be outdone by any other —— regiment in the army.”
Near the river there are several large buildings, formerly belonging
to the Amoor Company, an institution that closed its affairs in the
summer of 1866. After the opening of the Amoor this company was formed
in St. Petersburg with a paid up or guaranteed capital of nearly half
a million pounds sterling. Its object was the control of trade on the
Amoor and its tributaries, and the general development of commerce in
Northern Asia. It began operations in 1858, but was unfortunate from
the beginning. In 1859 it sent out three ships, two of which were lost
between De Castries and Nicolayevsk. Each of them had valuable
cargoes, and the iron and machinery for two river steamers. The third
ship arrived safely, and a steamer which she brought was put together
during the winter. It struck a rock and sunk on its first voyage up
the river. The misfortunes of the company in following years did not
come quite as thick, but their number was ample.
The company’s dividends were invariably Hibernian. It lost money from
the beginning, and after spending two and a half million dollars,
closed its affairs and went up in a balloon.
The Russian government has been disappointed in the result of opening
the Amoor. Ten years ago it was thought a great commerce would spring
up, but the result has been otherwise. There can be no traffic where
there are no people to trade with, and when the Amoor was opened the
country was little better than a wilderness. The natives were not a
mercantile community. There was only one Manjour city on the bank of
the Amoor, and for some time its people were not allowed to trade with
Russians. Even when it was opened it had no important commerce, as it
was far removed from the silk, tea, or porcelain districts of China.
Plainly the dependence must be upon colonization.
The Amoor was peopled under government patronage, many settlers coming
from the Trans-Baikal province, and others from European Russia.
Nearly all were poor and brought very little money to their new homes.
Many were Cossacks and soldiers, and not reconciled to hard labor.
During the first two years of their residence the Amoor colonists were
supplied with flour at government expense, but after that it was
expected they could support themselves. Most of the colonies were half
military in their character, being composed of Cossacks, with their
families. On the lower part of the Amoor, outside the military posts,
the settlers were peasants. Flour was carried from St. Petersburg to
the Amoor to supply the garrison and the newly arrived settlers. The
production is not yet sufficient for the population, and when I was at
Nicolayevsk I saw flour just landed from Cronstadt. The settlers had
generally reached the self-sustaining point, but they did not produce
enough to feed the military and naval force. Until they do this the
Amoor will be unprofitable.
On the upper Amoor flour was formerly brought from the Trans-Baikal
province to supply the settlements down to Habarofka. In 1866 there
was a short crop in that province and a good one on the upper Amoor. A
large quantity of wheat and rye,—I was told fifty thousand
bushels,—was taken to the Trans-Baikal and sold there. On the whole
the Amoor country is very good for agriculture, and will sustain
itself in time.
The import trade is chiefly in American and German hands, and
comprises miscellaneous goods, of which they told me at least fifty
per cent. were wines and intoxicating liquors! The Russian emperor
should make intemperance a penal offence and issue an edict against
it.
A Boston house was the first foreign one opened here, and then came a
German one. Others followed, principally from America, the Sandwich
Islands, Hamburg, and Bremen. Most of the Americans have retired from
the field, two were closing when I was at the Amoor, and Mr.
Boardman’s was the only house in full operation. There were three
German establishments, and another of a German-American character.
All the cereals can be grown on the Amoor, and the yield is said to be
very good. When its production is developed, wheat can be exported to
China and the Sandwich Islands at a good profit. Until 1864 the
government prohibited the export of timber, although it had
inexhaustible quantities growing on the Amoor and its tributaries. I
saw at Nicolayevsk and elsewhere oak and ash of excellent quality. The
former was not as tough as New England oak, but the ash could hardly
be excelled anywhere, and I was surprised to learn that no one had
attempted its export to California, where good timber for wagons and
similar work is altogether wanting. Pine trees are large, straight,
tough, and good-fibred. They ought to compete in Chinese ports with
pine lumber from elsewhere.
[Illustration: NOTHING BUT BONES.]
There is a peculiar kind of oak, the Maackia, suitable for cabinet
work. Some exports of wool, hides, and tallow have been made, but none
of importance. One cargo of ice has been sent to China, but it melted
on the way from improper packing. A Hong Kong merchant once ordered a
cargo of hams from the Amoor, and when he received it and opened the
barrels he found they contained nothing but bones. As the bone market
was low at that time he did not repeat his order.
Flax and hemp will grow here, and might become profitable exports.
There is excellent grazing land and no lack of pasturage, but at
present bears make fearful havoc among the cattle and sheep. In some
localities tigers are numerous, particularly among the Buryea
Mountains, where the Cossacks make a profession of hunting them. The
tiger is not likely to become an article of commerce, but on the
contrary is calculated to retard civilization.
With increased agriculture, pork can be raised and cured, and the
Russians might find it to their advantage to introduce Indian corn,
now almost unknown on the Amoor. At present hogs on the lower Amoor
subsist largely on fish, and the pork has a very unpleasant flavor.
The steward of the Variag told me that in 1865, when at De Castries,
he had two small pigs from Japan. A vessel just from the Amoor had a
large hog which had been purchased at Nicolayevsk.
The captain of the ship offered his hog for the two pigs, on the plea
that he wished to keep them during his voyage. As the hog was three
times the weight of the pigs the steward gladly accepted the proposal,
and wondered how a man who made so absurd a trade could be captain of
a ship. On killing his prize he found the pork so fishy in flavor that
nobody could eat it. The whole hog went literally to the dogs.
Nicolayevsk is a free port of entry, and there are no duties upon
merchandise anywhere in Siberia east of Lake Baikal. Since the opening
of commerce, in 1865, the number of ships arriving annually varies
from six or eight to nearly forty. In 1866 there were twenty-three
vessels on government, and fifteen on private account. The government
vessels brought flour, salt, lead, iron, machinery, telegraph
material, army and navy equipments, and a thousand and one articles
included under the head of ‘government stores.’ The private ones,
(three of them American,) brought miscellaneous cargoes for the
mercantile community. There were no wrecks in that year, or at any
rate, none up to the time of my departure.
At the Amoor I first began to hear those stories of peculation that
greet every traveler in Russia. According to my informants there were
many deficiencies in official departments, and very often losses were
ascribed to ‘leakage,’ ‘breakage,’ and damage of different kinds. “Did
you ever hear,” said a gentleman to me, “of rats devouring
window-glass, or of anchors and boiler iron blowing away in the wind?”
However startling such phenomena, he declared they had been known at
Nicolayevsk and elsewhere in the empire. I think if all the truth were
revealed we might learn of equally strange occurrences in America
during the late war.
The Russians have explored very thoroughly the coast of Manjouria in
search of good harbors. Below De Castries the first of importance is
Barracouta Bay, in Latitude 49°. The government made a settlement
there in 1853, but subsequently abandoned it for Olga Bay, six degrees
further south. Vladivostok, or Dominion of the East, was occupied in
1857, and a naval station commenced. A few years later, Posyet was
founded near the head of the Corean peninsula, and is now growing
rapidly. It has one of the finest harbors on the Japan Sea, completely
sheltered, easily defended, and affording superior facilities for
repairing ships of war or commerce. It is free from ice the entire
year, and has a little cove or bay that could be converted into a dry
dock at small expense.
In 1865 Posyet was visited by ten merchant vessels; it exported
fifteen thousand poods of _beche de mer_, the little fish formerly the
monopoly of the Feejees, and of which John Chinaman is very fond. It
exported ten thousand poods of bean cake, and eleven times that
quantity of a peculiar sea-grass eaten by the Celestials. Ginseng root
was also an article of commerce between Posyet and Shanghae. Russia
appears in earnest about the development of the Manjourian coast, and
is making many efforts for that object. The telegraph is completed
from Nicolayevsk to the new seaport, and a post route has been
established along the Ousuree.
From San Francisco to the mouth of the Amoor I did not see a wheeled
vehicle, with the exception of a hand cart and a dog wagon. At
Nicolayevsk there were horses, carts, and carriages, and I had my
first experience of a horse harnessed with the Russian yoke. The
theory of the yoke is, that it keeps the shafts away from the animal’s
sides, and enables him to exert more strength than when closely
hedged. I cannot give a positive opinion on this point, but believe
the Russians are correct. The yoke standing high above the horse’s
head and touching him nowhere, has a curious appearance when first
seen. I never could get over the idea while looking at a dray in
motion, that the horse was endeavoring to walk through an arched
gateway and taking it along with him.
The shafts were wide apart and attached by straps to the horse’s
collar. All the tension came through the shafts, and these were
strengthened by ropes that extended to the ends of the forward axle.
Harnesses had a shabby, ‘fixed up’ appearance, with a good deal of
rope in their composition. Why they did not go to pieces or crumble to
nothing, like the deacon’s One Horse Shay, was a mystery.
Before leaving Nicolayevsk I enjoyed a ride in one of its private
carriages. The vehicle was open, its floor quite low, and the wheels
small. We had two horses, one between the shafts and wearing the
inevitable yoke. The other was outside, and attached to an iron
single-tree over the forward wheel. Three horses can be driven abreast
on this kind of carriage.
The shaft horse trotted, while the other galloped, holding his head
very low and turned outward. This is due to a check rein, which keeps
him in a position hardly natural. The orthodox mode in Russia is to
have the shaft horse trotting while the other runs as described; the
difference in the motion gives an attractive and dashy appearance to
the turnout. Existence would be incomplete to a Russian without an
equipage, and if he cannot own one he keeps it on hire. The gayety of
Russian cities in winter and summer is largely due to the number of
private vehicles in constant motion through the streets.
[Illustration: TAIL PIECE—NATIVE WOMAN]