When we left Verkne Udinsk we crossed the Selenga before passing the
municipal limits. Our ferry-boat was like the one at Stratensk, and
had barely room on its platform for our tarantass. A priest and an
officer who were passengers on the steamer from Blagoveshchensk
arrived while we were getting on board the ferry-boat. They had been
greatly delayed on the way from Stratensk, and waited two days to
cross the Nercha.
The Selenga was full of ice, some cakes being larger than the platform
of our boat. The temperature of the air was far below freezing, and it
was expected the river would close in a day or two. It might shut
while we were crossing and confine us on the wretched flat-boat ten or
twelve hours, until it would be safe to walk ashore. However, it was
not my craft, and as there were six or eight Russians all in the same
boat with me, I did not borrow trouble.
The ice-cakes ground unpleasantly against each other and had things
pretty much their own way. One of them grated rather roughly upon our
sides. I do not know there was any danger, but I certainly thought I
had seen places of greater safety than that. When we were in the worst
part of the stream two of the ferrymen rested their poles and began
crossing themselves. I could have excused them had they postponed this
service until we landed on the opposite bank or were stuck fast in the
ice. The Russian peasants are more dependant on the powers above than
were even the old Puritans. The former abandon efforts in critical
moments and take to making the sign of the cross. The Puritans
trusted in God, but were careful to keep their powder dry.
[Illustration: OUR FERRY BOAT.]
A wide sand bank where we landed was covered with smooth ice, and I
picked my way over it much like a cat exercising on a mirror. The
tarantass was pushed ashore, and as soon as the horses were attached a
rapid run took them up the bank to the station.
A temporary track led across a meadow that furnished a great deal of
jolting to the mile. Eight versts from Verkne Udinsk the road divides,
one branch going to Kiachta and the other to Lake Baikal and Irkutsk.
A pleasing feature of the route was the well-built telegraph line, in
working order to St. Petersburg. It seemed to shorten the distance
between me and home when I knew that the electric current had a
continuous way to America. Puck would put a girdle round the earth in
forty minutes. From China to California, more than half the circuit of
the globe, we can flash a signal in a second of time, and gain by the
hands of the clock more than fourteen hours.
From the point of divergence the road to Kiachta ascends the valley of
the Selenga, while that to Irkutsk descends the left bank of the
stream. I found the Kiachta route rougher than any part of the way
from Chetah to Verkne Udinsk, and as the yemshick took us at a
rattling pace we were pretty thoroughly shaken up.
At the second station we had a dinner of _stchee_, or cabbage soup,
with bread and the caviar of the Selenga. This caviar is of a golden
color and made from the roe of a small fish that ascends from Lake
Baikal. It is not as well liked as the caviar of the Volga and Amoor,
the egg being less rich than that of the sturgeon, though about the
same size. If I may judge from what I saw, there is less care taken in
its preparation than in that of the Volga.
The road ascended the Selenga, but the valley was so wide and we kept
so near its edge that the river was not often visible. The valley is
well peopled and yields finely to the agriculturalist. Some of the
farms appeared quite prosperous and their owners well-to-do in the
world. The general appearance was not unlike that of some parts of the
Wabash country, or perhaps better still, the region around Marysville,
Kansas. Russian agriculture does not exhibit the care and economy of
our states where land is expensive. There is such abundance of soil in
Siberia that every farmer can have all he desires to cultivate. Many
farms along the Selenga had a ‘straggling’ appearance, as if too large
for their owners. _Per contra_, I saw many neat and well managed
homesteads, with clean and comfortable dwellings.
With better implements of husbandry and a more thorough working of the
soil, the peasants along the Selenga would find agriculture a sure
road to wealth. Under the present system of cultivation the valley is
pleasing to the eye of a traveler who views it with reference to its
practical value. There were flocks of sheep, droves of cattle and
horses, and stacks of hay and grain; everybody was apparently well fed
and the houses were attractive. We had good horses, good drivers, and
generally good roads for the first hundred versts. Sometimes we left
the Selenga, but kept generally parallel to its course. The mountains
beyond the valley were lofty and clearly defined. Frequently they
presented striking and beautiful scenery, and had I been a skillful
artist they would have tempted me to sketch them.
The night came upon us cold and with a strong wind blowing from the
north. We wrapped ourselves closely and were quite comfortable, the
dog actually lolling beneath our sheepskin coverlid. Approaching
Selenginsk we found a few bits of bad road and met long caravans laden
with tea for Irkutsk.
These caravans were made up of little two-wheeled carts, each drawn by
a single horse. From six to ten chests of tea, according to the
condition of the roads, are piled on each cart and firmly bound with
cords. There is one driver to every four or five carts, and this
driver has a dormitory on one of his loads. This is a rude frame two
and a half by six feet, with sides about seven inches high. With a
sheepskin coat and coverlid a man contrives to sleep in this box while
his team moves slowly along the road or is feeding at a halting place.
All the freight between Kiachta and Lake Baikal is carried on carts in
summer and on one-horse sleds in winter. From Kiachta westward tea is
almost the only article of transport, the quantity sometimes amounting
to a million chests per annum. The tea chests are covered with raw
hide, which protects them, from rain and snow and from the many thumps
of their journey. The teams belong to peasants, who carry freight for
a stipulated sum per pood. The charges are lower in winter than in
summer, as the sledge is of easier draft than the cart.
The caravans travel sixteen hours of every twenty-four, and rarely
proceed faster than a walk. The drivers are frequently asleep and
allow the horses to take their own pace. The caravans are expected to
give up the whole road on the approach of a post carriage, and when
the drivers are awake they generally obey the regulation. Very often
it happened that the foremost horses turned aside of their own accord
as we approached. They heard the bells that denoted our character,
and were aware of our yemshick’s right to strike them if they
neglected their duty. The sleeping drivers and delinquent horses
frequently received touches of the lash. There was little trouble by
day, but at night the caravan horses were less mindful of our comfort.
Especially if the road was bad and narrow the post vehicles, contrary
to regulation, were obliged to give way.
[Illustration: EQUAL RIGHTS.]
It was three or four hours before daylight when we reached Selenginsk,
and the yemshick removed his horses preparatory to returning to his
station. I believe Selenginsk is older than Verkne Udinsk, and very
much the senior of Irkutsk. The ancient town is on the site of the
original settlement, but frequent inundations caused its abandonment
for the other bank of the river, five versts away. New Selenginsk,
which has a great deal of antiquity in its appearance, is a small town
with a few good houses, a well built church, and commodious barracks.
During the troubles between China and Russia concerning the early
occupation of the Amoor and encroachments on the Celestial frontier,
Selenginsk was an important spot. It was often threatened by the
Chinese, and sustained a siege in 1687. A convention was held there in
1727, and some provisions of the treaty then concluded are still in
force. Mr. Bestoujeff, one of the exiles of 1825, was living at
Selenginsk at the time of my visit. There were two brothers of this
name concerned in the insurrection, and at the expiration of their
sentences to labor they were settled at this place. Subsequently they
were joined by three sisters, who sacrificed all their prospects in
life to meet their brothers in Siberia. The family was permitted to
return to Europe when the present emperor ascended the throne, but
having been so long absent the permission was never accepted.
The river was full of floating ice and could not be crossed in the
night, and we ordered horses so that we might reach the bank at dawn.
Both banks of the river were crowded with carts, some laden and others
empty. A government officer has preference over dead loads of
merchandise, and so we were taken in charge without delay. To prevent
accidents the horses were detached, and the carriage pushed on the
ferry-boat by men. The tamed unfiery steeds followed us with some
reluctance, and shivered in the breeze during the voyage. We remained
in the tarantass through the whole transaction. The ice ran in the
river as at Verkne Udinsk, but the cakes were not as large. Our chief
ferryman was a Russian, and had a crew of six Bouriats who spoke
Mongol among themselves and Russian with their commander.
From Selenginsk to Kiachta, a distance of ninety versts, the road is
hilly and sandy. We toiled slowly up the ascents, and our downward
progress was but little better. We met several caravans where the road
was narrow and had but one beaten track. In such cases we generally
found it better to turn aside ourselves than to insist upon our rights
and compel the caravan to leave the road. The hills were sandy and
desolate, and I could not see any special charm in the landscape. I
employed much of the day in sleeping, which may possibly account for
the lack of minute description of the road.
The only point where the cold touched me was at the tip of my nose,
where I left my _dehar_ open to obtain air. The Russian dehar is
generally made of antelope or deer skin, and forms an admirable
defence against cold. Mine reached to my heels, and touched the floor
when I stood erect. When the collar was turned up and brought together
in front my head was utterly invisible. The sleeves were four or five
inches longer than my arms, and the width of the garment was enough
for a man and a boy. I at first suspected I had bought by mistake a
coat intended for a Russian giant then exhibiting in Moscow.
This article of apparel is comfortable only when one is seated or
extended in his equipage. Walking is very difficult in a dehar, and
its wearer feels about as free to move as if enclosed in a
pork-barrel. It was a long time before I could turn my collar up or
down without assistance, and frequently after several efforts to seize
an outside object I found myself grasping the ends of my sleeves. The
warmth of the garment atones for its cumbersome character, and its
gigantic size is fully intentional. The length protects the feet and
legs, the high collar warms the head, and the great width of the dehar
allows it to be well wrapped about the body. The long sleeves cover
the hands and preserve fingers from frost bites. Taken as a whole it
is a mental discomfort but a physical good, and may be considered a
necessary nuisance of winter travel in Siberia.
At Ust Kiachta, the last station before reaching our journey’s end, we
were waited upon by a young and tidy woman in a well-kept room. It was
about nine in the evening when we reached Troitskosavsk, and entered
town among the large buildings formerly occupied as a frontier custom
house. As there was no hotel we drove to the house of the Police
Master, the highest official of the place. I had letters to this
gentleman, but did not find him at home. His brother took us in charge
and sent a soldier to direct us to a house where we could obtain
lodgings.
It is the custom in Siberian towns to hold a certain number of lodging
places always ready for travelers. These are controlled by the Police
Master, to whom strangers apply for quarters. Whether he will or no, a
man who has registered lodging rooms with the police must open them
to any guest assigned him, no matter what the hour. It was ten o’clock
when we reached our destined abode. We made a great deal of noise that
roused a servant to admit us to the yard. The head of the household
came to the door in his shirt and rubbed his eyes as if only half
awake. His legs trembled with the cold while he waited for our
explanations, and it was not till we were admitted that he thought of
his immodest exposure.
I would not wish it inferred that no one can find lodgings until
provided by the police. On the contrary, it is rarely necessary to
obtain them through this channel. Travelers are not numerous, and the
few strangers visiting Siberia are most cordially welcomed. Officers
are greeted and find homes with their fellow officers, while merchants
enjoy the hospitalities of men of their class.
We ordered the samovar, and being within Parrott-gun range of China we
had excellent tea. I passed the night on a sofa so narrow that I found
it difficult to turn over, and fairly rolled to the floor while
endeavoring to bestow myself properly. While finishing my morning
toilet I received a visit from Major Boroslofski, Master of Police,
who came to acknowledge General Ditmar’s letter of introduction. He
tendered the hospitalities of the place, and desired me to command his
services while I remained.
We had two rooms with a bedstead and sofa, besides lots of chairs,
mirrors, tables, and flower pots. Then we had an apartment nearly
thirty feet square, that contained more chairs, tables, and flower
pots. In one corner there was a huge barrel-organ that enabled me to
develop my musical abilities. I spent half an hour the morning after
our arrival in turning out the national airs of Russia. Molostoff
amused himself by circulating his cap before an invisible audience and
collecting imperceptible coin. While dancing to one of my liveliest
airs he upset a flower pot, and the crash that followed brought our
concert to a close. Two sides of the large room were entirely
bordered with horticultural productions, some of them six or eight
feet high.
[Illustration: AMATEUR CONCERT IN SIBERIA.]
Troitskosavsk and Kiachta have a sort of husband and wife singleness
and duality. They are about two miles apart, the former having five or
six thousand inhabitants and the latter about twelve hundred. In
government, business, and interest the two places are one, the Master
of Police having jurisdiction over both, and the merchants living
indifferently in one or the other. Many persons familiar with the name
of Kiachta never heard of the other town. It may surprise London
merchants who send Shanghai telegrams “via Kiachta” to learn that the
wires terminate at Troitskosavsk, and do not reach Kiachta at all.
The treaty which established trade between Russia and China at Kiachta
provided that no one should reside there except merchants engaged in
traffic. No officer could live there, nor could any person whatever
beyond merchants and their employees and families remain over night.
No stone buildings except a church could be erected, and visits of
strangers were to be discouraged. Kiachta was thus restricted to the
business of a trading post, and the town of Troitskosavsk, two miles
away, was founded for the residence of the officials, outside traders,
and laborers. Most of the restrictions above mentioned exist no
longer, but the towns have not quite lost their old relations. There
is an excellent road from one to the other, and the carriages, carts,
and pedestrians constantly thronging it present a lively scene.
The police master tendered his equipage and offered to escort me in
making calls upon those I wished to know. Etiquette is no less rigid
in Siberian towns and cities than in Moscow and St. Petersburg. One
must make ceremonial visits as soon as possible after his arrival,
officials being first called upon in the order of rank and civilians
afterward. Officers making visits don their uniforms, with epaulettes
and side arms, and with all their decorations blazing on their
breasts. Civilians go in evening dress arranged with fastidious care.
The hours for calling are between eleven A.M. and three P.M. A
responsive call may be expected within two days, and must be made with
the utmost precision of costume.
Arrayed for the occasion I made eight or ten visits in Kiachta and
Troitskosavsk. The air was cold and the frost nipped rather severely
through my thin boots as we drove back from Kiachta. After an early
dinner we went to Maimaichin to visit the _sargootchay_, or Chinese
governor. We passed under a gateway surmounted with the double-headed
eagle, and were saluted by the Cossack guard as we left the borders of
the Russian empire. Outside the gateway we traversed the neutral
ground, two hundred yards wide, driving toward a screen or short wall
of brick work, on which a red globe was represented. We crossed a
narrow ditch and, passing behind the screen, entered a gateway into
Maimaichin, the most northern city of China.