As we entered the city a Cossack delivered a letter announcing that I
was to be handed over to the police, who had a lodging ready for me.
On learning of my presence at Kiachta the Governor General kindly
requested an officer of his staff to share his rooms with me. Captain
Paul, with whom I was quartered, occupied pleasant apartments
overlooking the _gastinni-dvor_. He was leading a bachelor life in a
suite of six rooms, and had plenty of space at my disposal. That I
might lose no time, the Chief of Police stationed the Cossack with a
letter telling me where to drive.
I removed the dust and costume of travel as soon as possible, and
prepared to pay my respects to the Governor General. My presentation
was postponed to the following day, and as the Russian etiquette
forbade my calling on other officials before I had seen the chief,
there was little to be done in the matter of visiting.
The next morning I called upon General Korsackoff, delivered my
letters of introduction, and was most cordially welcomed to Irkutsk.
The Governor General of Eastern Siberia controls a territory larger
than all European Russia, and much of it is not yet out of its
developing stage. He has a heavy responsibility upon his shoulders in
leading his subjects in the way best for their interests and those of
the crown. Much has been done under the energetic administration of
General Korsackoff and his predecessor, and there is room to
accomplish much more. The general has ably withstood the cares and
hardships of his Siberian life. He is forty-five years of age, active
and vigorous, and capable of doing much before his way of life is
fallen into the sere and yellow leaf. Like Madame De Stael, he
possesses the power of putting visitors entirely at their ease. To my
single countrywomen I will whisper that General Korsackoff is of about
medium height, has a fair complexion, blue eyes, and Saxon hair, and a
face which the most crabbed misanthrope could not refuse to call
handsome. He is unmarried, and if rumor tells the truth, not under
engagement.
[Illustration: GOV. GEN’L KORSACKOFF.]
The Governor General lives in a spacious and elegant house on the bank
of the Angara, built by a merchant who amassed an immense fortune in
the Chinese trade. On retiring from business he devoted his time and
energies to constructing the finest mansion in Eastern Siberia. It is
a stone building of three stories, and its halls and parlors are of
liberal extent. Furniture was brought from St. Petersburg at enormous
cost, and the whole establishment was completed without regard to
expense. At the death of its builder the house was purchased by
government, and underwent a few changes to adapt it to its official
occupants. On the opposite bank of the river there is a country seat,
the private property of General Korsackoff, and his dwelling place in
the hot months.
It was my good fortune that Mr. Maack was obliged by etiquette to
visit his friends on returning from his journey. I arranged to
accompany him, and during that day and the next we called upon many
persons of official and social position. These included the Governor
and Vice Governor of Irkutsk, the chief of staff and heads of
departments, the mayor of the city, and the leading merchants.
Succeeding days were occupied in receiving return visits, and when
these were ended I was fairly a member of the society of the Siberian
capital.
The evening after my arrival I returned early to my lodgings to
indulge in a Russian bath. Captain Paul was absent, but his servant
managed to inform me by words and pantomime that all was ready. On the
captain’s return the man said he had told me in German that the bath
was waiting.
“How did you speak German?” asked the captain, aware that his man knew
nothing but Russian.
“Oh,” said the servant, “I rubbed my hands over my face and arms and
pointed toward the bath-room.”
On the morning after my arrival the proprietor of the house asked for
my passport; when it returned it bore the visa of the chief of police.
There is a regulation throughout Russia that every hotel keeper or
other householder shall register his patrons with the police. By this
means the authorities can trace the movements of ‘_suspects_’ and
prevent unlicensed travel. In Siberia the plan is particularly
valuable in keeping exiles on the spots assigned them.
At St. Petersburg and Moscow the police keep a directory and hold it
open to the public. When I reached the capital and wished to find some
friends who arrived a few days before me, I obtained their address
from this directory. Those who sought my whereabouts found me in the
same way.
The weather was steadily cold—about zero Fahrenheit—and was called
mild for the season by the residents of Irkutsk. I brought from New
York a heavy overcoat that braved the storms of Broadway the winter
before my departure. My Russian friends pronounced it _nechevo_
(nothing,) and advised me to procure a ‘_shooba,_’ or cloak lined with
fur. The shooba reaches nearly to one’s feet, and is better adapted to
riding than walking. It can be lined according to the means and
liberality of the wearer. Sable is most expensive, and sheepskin the
least. Both accomplish the same end, as they contain about equal
quantities of heat.
The streets of Irkutsk are of good width and generally intersect at
right angles. Most of the buildings are of wood, and usually large and
well built. The best houses are of stone, or of brick covered with
plaster to resemble stone. Very few dwellings are entered directly
from the street, the outer doors opening into yards according to the
Russian custom. To visit a person you pass into an enclosure through a
strong gateway, generally open by day but closed at night. A
‘_dvornik_’ (doorkeeper) has the control of this gate, and is
responsible for everything within it. Storehouses and all other
buildings of the establishment open upon the enclosure, and frequently
two or more houses have one gate in common.
The stores or magazines are numerous, and well supplied with European
goods. Some of the stocks are very large, and must require heavy
capital or excellent credit to manage them. Tailors and milliners are
abundant, and bring their modes from Paris. Occasionally they paint
their signs in French, and display the latest novelties from the
center of fashion. Bakers are numerous and well patronized.
‘_Frantsooski kleb_,’ (French bread,) which is simply white bread made
into rolls, is popular and largely sold in Irkutsk.
One of my daily exercises in Russian was to spell the signs upon the
stores. In riding I could rarely get more than half through a word
before I was whisked out of sight. I never before knew how convenient
are symbolic signs to a man who cannot read. A picture of a hat, a
glove, or a loaf of bread was far more expressive to my eye than the
word _shapka_, _perchatki_, or _kleb_, printed in Russian letters.
The Russians smoke a great deal of tobacco in paper cigarettes or
‘_papiros_.’ Everywhere east of Lake Baikal the papiros of Irkutsk is
in demand, and the manufacture there is quite extensive. In Irkutsk
and to the westward the brand of Moscow is preferred. The consumption
of tobacco in this form throughout the empire must be something
enormous. I have known a party of half a dozen persons to smoke a
hundred cigarettes in an afternoon and evening. Many ladies indulge in
smoking, but the practice is not universal. I do not remember any
unmarried lady addicted to it.
Irkutsk was founded in 1680, and has at present a population of
twenty-eight or thirty thousand. About four thousand gold miners spend
the winter and their money in the city. Geographically it is in
Latitude 52° 40′ north, and Longitude 104° 20′ east from Greenwich.
Little wind blows there, and storms are less frequent than at Moscow
or St. Petersburg. The snows are not abundant, the quantity that falls
being smaller than in Boston and very much less than in Montreal or
Quebec. In summer or winter the panorama of Irkutsk and its
surroundings is one of great beauty.
[Illustration: VIEW IN IRKUTSK.]
There are twenty or more churches, of which nearly all are large and
finely placed. Several of them were planned and constructed by two
Swedish engineer officers captured at Pultawa and exiled to Siberia.
They are excellent monuments of architectural skill, and would be
ornamental to any European city.
The Angara at Irkutsk is about six hundred yards wide, and flows with
a current of six miles an hour. It varies in height not more than ten
or twelve inches during the entire year. It does not freeze until the
middle of January, and opens early in May. There are two swinging
ferries for crossing the river. A stout cable is anchored in
mid-stream, and the ferry-boat attached to its unanchored end. The
slack of the cable is buoyed by several small boats, over which it
passes at regular intervals. The ferry swings like a horizontal
pendulum, and is propelled by turning its sides at an angle against
the current. I crossed on this ferry in four minutes from bank to
bank.
There are many public carriages in the streets, to be hired at thirty
copecks the hour; but the drivers, like their profession everywhere,
are inclined to overcharge. Every one who thinks he can afford it,
keeps a team of his own, the horses being generally of European stock.
A few horses have been brought from St. Petersburg; the journey
occupies a full year, and the animals, when safely arrived, are very
costly. Private turnouts are neat and showy, and on a fine afternoon
the principal drives of the city are quite gay. General Korsackoff has
a light wagon from New York for his personal driving in summer.
I found here a curious regulation. Sleighs are prohibited by municipal
law from carrying bells in the limits of the city. Reason: in a great
deal of noise pedestrians might be run over. In American cities the
law requires bells to be worn. Reason: unless there is a noise
pedestrians might be run over.
“You pays your money and you takes your choice.”
Cossack policemen watch the town during the day, and at night there
are mounted and foot patrols carrying muskets with fixed bayonets.
Every block and sometimes every house has its private watchman, and at
regular intervals during the night you may hear these guardians
thumping their long staves on the pavement to assure themselves and
others that they are awake. The fire department belongs to the police,
and its apparatus consists of hand engines, water carts, and hook and
ladder wagons. There are several watch towers, from which a semaphore
telegraph signals the existence of fire. An electric apparatus was
being arranged during my stay.
During my visit there was an alarm of fire, and I embraced the
opportunity to see how the Russians ‘run with the machine.’ When I
reached the street the engines and water carts were dashing in the
direction of the fire. The water carts were simply large casks mounted
horizontally on four wheels; a square hole in the top served to admit
a bucket or a suction hose. Those carts bring water from the nearest
point of supply, which may be the river or an artificial reservoir,
according to the locality of the fire. Engines and carts are drawn by
horses, which appear well selected for strength and activity. All the
firemen wore brass helmets.
The burning house was small and quite disengaged from others, and as
there was no wind there was no danger of a serious conflagration. The
Chief of Police directed the movements of his men. The latter worked
their engines vigorously, but though the carts kept in active motion
the supply of water was not equal to the demand. For some time it
seemed doubtful which would triumph, the flames or the police. Fortune
favored the brave. The building was saved, though in a condition of
incipient charcoalism.
The Chief of Police wore his full uniform and decorations as the law
requires of him when on duty. During the affair he was thoroughly
spattered with water and covered with dirt and cinders. When he
emerged he presented an appearance somewhat like that of a butterfly
after passing through a sausage machine. A detachment of soldiers came
to the spot but did not form a cordon around it. Every spectator went
as near the fire as he thought prudent, but was careful not to get in
the way. Two or three thousand officers, soldiers, merchants, exiles,
moujiks, women, boys, and beggars gathered in the street to look at
the display.
The Russian fire engines and water carts with their complement of men,
and each drawn by three horses abreast, present a picturesque
appearance as they dash through the streets. The engines at Irkutsk
are low-powered squirts, worked by hand, less effective than the hand
engines used in America twenty or thirty years ago, and far behind our
steamers of the present day. In Moscow and St. Petersburg the fire
department has been greatly improved during the past ten years, and is
now quite efficient.
The markets of Irkutsk are well supplied with necessaries of life.
Beef is abundant and good, at an average retail price of seven copecks
a pound. Fish and game are plentiful, and sell at low figures. The
_rebchik_, or wood-hen, is found throughout Siberia, and is much
cheaper in the market than any kind of domestic fowl. Pork, veal, and
mutton are no more expensive than beef, and all vegetables of the
country are at corresponding rates. In fact if one will eschew
European luxuries he can live very cheaply at Irkutsk. Everything that
comes from beyond the Urals is expensive, on account of the long land
carriage.
Champagne costs five or six roubles a bottle, and a great quantity of
it is drank. Sherry is from two to seven roubles according to quality,
and the same is the case with white and red wines. The lowest price of
sugar is thirty copecks the pound, and it is oftener forty-five or
fifty. Porter and ale cost two or three roubles a bottle, and none but
the best English brands are drank. The wines are almost invariably
excellent, and any merchant selling even a few cases of bad wine would
very likely lose his trade. Clothes and all articles of personal wear
cost about as much as in St. Louis or New Orleans. Labor is neither
abundant nor scarce. A good man-servant receives ten to fifteen
roubles a month with board.
Wood comes in soudnas from the shores of Lake Baikal and is very
cheap. These vessels descend the river by the force of the current,
but in going against it are towed by horses. The principal market
place is surrounded with shops where a varied and miscellaneous lot of
merchandise is sold. I found ready-made clothing, crockery, boots,
whisky, hats, furniture, flour, tobacco, and so on through a long list
of saleable and unsaleable articles. How such a mass could find
customers was a puzzle. Nearly all the shops are small and plain, and
there are many stalls or stands which require but a small capital to
manage. A great deal of haggling takes place in transactions at these
little establishments, and I occasionally witnessed some amusing
scenes.
The best time to view the market is on Sunday morning, when the
largest crowd is gathered. My first visit was made one Sunday when the
thermometer stood at -15° Fahrenheit. The market houses and the open
square were full of people, and the square abounded in horses and
sleds from the country. A great deal of traffic was conducted on these
sleds or upon the solid snow-packed earth. The crowd comprised men,
women, and children of all ages and all conditions in life. Peasants
from the country and laborers from the city, officers, tradesmen,
heads of families, and families without heads, busy men, and idlers,
were mingled as at a popular gathering in City Hall Park. Everybody
was in warm garments, the lower classes wearing coats and pelisses of
sheepskin, while the others were in furs more or less expensive.
Occasionally a drunken man was visible, but there were no indications
of a tendency to fight. The intoxicated American, eight times out of
ten, endeavors to quarrel with somebody, but our Muscovite neighbor is
of a different temperament. When drunk he falls to caressing and gives
kisses in place of blows.
[Illustration: A COLD ATTACHMENT.]
The most novel sight that day in the market at Irkutsk was the
embrace of two drunken peasants. They kissed each other so tenderly
and so long that the intense cold congealed their breath and froze
their beards together. I left them as they were endeavoring to arrange
a separation.
A few beggars circulated in the crowd and gathered here and there a
copeck.
The frost whitened the beards of the men and reddened the cheeks of
the women. Where hands were bared to the breeze they were of a
corned-beefy hue, and there were many persons stamping on the ground
or swinging their arms to keep up a circulation. The little horses,
standing, were white with frost, but none of them covered with
blankets. The Siberian horses are not blanketed in winter, but I was
told they did not suffer from cold. Their coats are thick and warm and
frequently appear more like fur than hair.
Everything that could be frozen had succumbed to the frost. There were
frozen chickens, partridges, and other game, thrown in heaps like
bricks or stove wood. Beef, pork, and mutton, were alike solid, and
some of the vendors had placed their animals in fantastic positions
before freezing them. In one place I saw a calf standing as if ready
to walk away. His skin remained, and at first sight I thought him
alive, but was undeceived when a man overturned the unresisting beast.
Frozen fish were piled carelessly in various places, and milk was
offered for sale in cakes or bricks. A stick or string was generally
frozen into a corner of the mass to facilitate carrying. One could
swing a quart of milk at his side or wrap it in his kerchief at
discretion.
There were many peripatetic dealers in cakes and tea, the latter
carrying small kettles of the hot beverage, which they served in
tumblers. Occasionally there was a man with a whole litter of sucking
pigs frozen solid and slung over his shoulder or festooned into a
necklace. The diminutive size of these pigs awakened reflections upon
the brevity of swinish life.