When we left Tomsk in the evening, the snow was falling rapidly, and
threatened to obliterate the track along the frozen surface of the
river. There were no post horses at the station, and we were obliged
to charter private teams at double the usual rates. The governor
warned us that we might have trouble in securing horses, and requested
us to refer to him if the smotretal did not honor our pada ashnia. We
did not wish to trespass further on his kindness, and concluded to
submit to the extortion and say nothing. The station keeper owned the
horses we hired, and we learned he was accustomed to declare his
regular troikas “out” on all possible occasions. Of course, a traveler
anxious to proceed, would not hesitate long at paying two or three
roubles extra.
We dashed over the rough ice of the Tom for a few versts and then
found a road on solid earth. We intended to visit Barnaool, and for
this purpose left the great road at the third station, and turned
southward. The falling snow beat so rapidly into our sleigh that we
closed the vehicle and ignored the outer world. Mr. Naschinsky started
with us from Tomsk, but after a few stations he left us and hurried
away at courier speed toward Barnaool. He proved an _avant courier_
for us, and warned the station masters of our approach, so that we
found horses ready.
On this side road the contract requires but three troikas at a
station. Three sleighs together were an unusual number, so that the
smotretals generally obtained one or both our teams from the village.
On the last half of the route the yemshicks did not take us to the
stations but to the houses of their friends where we promptly obtained
horses at the regular rates. The peasants between Tomsk and Barnaool
own many horses, and are pleased at the opportunity to earn a little
cash with them.
Snow, darkness, and slumber prevented our seeing much of the road
during the night. In the morning, I found we were traveling through an
undulating and generally wooded country, occasionally crossing rivers
and small lakes on the ice. The track was a wonderful improvement over
that between Tomsk and Krasnoyarsk. The stations or peasant houses
where we changed horses, were not as good as those on the great road.
The rooms were frequently small and heated to an uncomfortable degree.
In one house, notwithstanding the great heat, several children were
seated on the top of the stove, and apparently enjoying themselves.
The yemshicks and attendants were less numerous than on the great
road, but we could find no fault with their service. On one course of
twenty versts our sleigh was driven by a boy of thirteen, though
seemingly not more than ten. He handled the whip and reins with the
skill of a veteran, and earned an extra gratuity from his passengers.
The road was marked by upright poles ten or twelve feet high at
distances of one or two hundred feet. There were distance posts with
the usual black and white alternations, but the figures were generally
indistinct, and many posts were altogether wanting. On the main road
through the whole length of Siberia, there is a post at every verst,
marking in large numbers the distance to the first station on either
side of it. At the stations there are generally posts that show the
distance to Moscow, St. Petersburg, and the provincial or ‘government’
capitals on either side.
For a long time I could never rid myself of a sensation of ‘goneness’
when I read the figures indicating the distance to St. Petersburg.
Above seven thousand they were positively frightful; between six and
seven thousand, they were disagreeable to say the least. Among the
five thousand and odd versts, I began to think matters improving, and
when I descended below four thousand, I felt as if in my teens. The
proverb says, “a watched pot never boils.” I can testify that these
distance figures diminished very slowly, and sometimes they seemed to
remain nearly the same from day to day.
The snow storm that began when we left Tomsk, continued through the
night and the following day. The air was warm, and there was little
wind, so that our principal inconvenience was from the snow flakes in
our faces, and the gradual filling of the road. Toward sunset a wind
arose. Every hour it increased, and before midnight there was good
prospect of our losing our way or being compelled to halt until
daybreak. The snow whirled in thick masses through the air, and
utterly blinded us when we attempted to look out. The road filled with
drifts, and we had much difficulty in dragging through them. The
greatest personal inconvenience was the sifting of snow through the
crevices of our sleigh cover. At every halt we underwent a vigorous
shaking to remove the superfluous snow from our furs.
A storm with high winds in this region takes the name of _bouran_. It
is analogous to the _poorga_ of Northeastern Siberia and Kamchatka,
and may occur at any season of the year.
Bourans are oftentimes very violent, especially in the open steppe.
Any one who has experienced the norther of Texas, or the _bora_ of
Southern Austria, can form an idea of these Siberian storms. The worst
are when the thermometer sinks to twenty-five degrees or more below
zero, and the snow is dashed about with terrific fury. At such times
they are almost insupportable, and the traveler who ventures to face
them runs great risk of his life. Many persons have been lost in the
winter storms, and all experienced voyagers are reluctant to brave
their violence. In summer the wind spends its force on the earth and
sand which it whirls in large clouds. A gentleman told me he had seen
the dry bed of a river where there were two feet of sand, swept clean
to the rock by the strength of the wind alone. A little past daylight
the sleigh came to a sudden stop despite the efforts of all concerned.
The last hundred versts of our ride we had four horses to each sleigh,
and their united strength was not more than sufficient for our
purpose. The drift where we stopped was at least three feet deep, and
pretty closely packed. We, that is to say, the horses and yemshicks,
made several efforts but could not carry the sleigh through. The
mammoth sleigh came up and the two yemshicks trod a path through the
worst part of the drift. The doctor and I descended from the vehicle,
and assisted by looking on. The sleigh thus lightened, was dragged
through the obstruction but unfortunately turned on its beam ends, and
filled with snow before it could be righted.
The bouran was from the south, and raised the temperature above the
freezing point. The increasing heat became uncomfortable after the
cold I had experienced. The horses did not turn white from
perspiration as in colder days, and the exertion of travel set them
panting as in summer. The drivers carefully knotted their (the
horses’) tails to prevent them (the tails) from filling with snow, but
the precaution was not entirely successful. The snow was of the right
consistency for a school boy’s frolic, and would have thrown a group
of American urchins into ecstacies. Whenever our pace quickened to a
trot or gallop, the larboard horse threw a great many snowballs with
his feet. He seemed to aim at my face, and every few minutes I
received what the prize ring would call ‘plumpers in the peeper, and
sockdolagers on the potato-trap.’
We drove into Barnaool about forty-four hours after leaving Tomsk. At
the hotel we found three rooms containing chairs and tables in
profusion, but not a bed or sofa. Of course we were expected to supply
our own bedding, and need not be particular about a bedstead. The
worst part of the affair was the wet condition of our furs. My
sheepskin sleigh robe was altogether too damp for use, and I sent it
to be dried in the kitchen. Several of my fur garments went the same
way. Even my shooba, which I carried in a bag, had a feeling of
dampness when I unfolded it, and in fact the only dry things about us,
were our throats. We set things drying as best we could, and then
ordered dinner. Before our sleighs were unloaded, a policeman took our
passports and saved us all trouble of going to the station.
In the evening I accompanied Dr. Schmidt on a visit to a friend and
fellow member of the Academy of Science. We found a party of six or
eight persons, and, as soon as I was introduced, a gentleman
despatched a servant to his house. The man returned with a roll of
sheet music from which our host’s daughter favored us with the “Star
Spangled Banner,” and “Hail Columbia,” as a greeting to the first
American visitor to Barnaool. On our return to our lodgings we made
our beds on the floor, and slept comfortably. The dampness of the furs
developed a rheumatic pain in my shoulder that stiffened me somewhat
inconveniently.
We breakfasted upon cakes and tea at a late hour in the morning, and
then went to pay our respects to General Freeze, the Nachalnik or
Director of Mines, and to Colonel Filoff, chief of the smelting works.
Both these officers were somewhat past the middle age, quiet and
affable, and each enjoyed himself in coloring a meerschaum. They have
been engaged in mining matters during many years, and are said to be
thoroughly versed in their profession. After visiting these gentlemen
we called upon other official and civilian residents of the city.
Barnaool is the center of direction of the mining enterprises of the
Altai mountains, and has a population of ten or twelve thousand.
Almost its entire business is in someway connected with mining
affairs, and there are many engineer officers constantly stationed
there. I met some of these gentlemen during my stay, and was indebted
to them for information concerning the manner of working mines and
reducing ores. The city contains a handsome array of public buildings,
including the mining bureau, the hospital, and the zavod or smelting
establishment. General Freeze, the Nachalnik, is director and chief,
not only of the city but of the entire mining district of which
Barnaool is the center. The first discoveries of precious metals in
the Altai regions were made by one of the Demidoffs who was sent there
by Peter the Great. A monument in the public square at Barnaool
records his services, in ever during brass. I was shown an autograph
letter from the Empress Elizabeth giving directions to the Nachalnik
who controlled the mines during her reign. The letter is kept in an
ivory box on the table around which the mining board holds its
sessions. The mines of this region are the personal property of the
Emperor, and their revenues go directly to the crown. I was told that
the government desires to sell or give these mines into private hands,
in the belief that the resources of the country would be more
thoroughly developed. The day before my departure from Barnaool, I
learned that my visit had reference to the possible purchase of the
mining works by an American company. I hastened to assure my informant
that I had no intention of buying the Altai mountains or any part of
them.
The Nachalnik visits all mines and smelting works in his district at
least once a year, and is constantly in receipt of detailed reports of
operations in progress. His power is almost despotic, and like the
governors of departments throughout all Siberia, he can manage affairs
pretty much in his own way. There are no convict laborers in his
district, the workmen at the mines and zavods being peasants subject
to the orders of government. Each man in the district may be called
upon to work for the Emperor at fixed wages of money and rations. I
believe the daily pay of a laborer is somewhat less than forty
copecks. A compromise for saints days and other festivals is made by
employing the men only two weeks out of three. Relays are so arranged
as to make no stoppage of the works except during the Christmas
holidays.
I saw many sheets of the geological map of the Altai region, which has
been a long time in preparation, and will require several years to
complete. Every mountain, hill, brook, and valley is laid down by
careful surveyors, and when the map is finished it will be one of the
finest and best in the world. One corps is engaged in surveying and
mapping while another explores and opens mines.
When the snows are melted in the spring, and the floods have receded
from the streams, the exploring parties are sent into the mountains.
Each officer has a particular valley assigned him, and commands a well
equipped body of men. He is expected to remain in the mountains until
he has finished his work, or until compelled to leave by the approach
of winter. The party procures meat from game, of which there is nearly
always an abundant supply.
Holes are dug at regular intervals, on the system I have already
described in the mines of the Yenesei. The rocks in and around the
valley are carefully examined for traces of silver, and many specimens
have been collected for the geological cabinet at Barnaool. Maps are
made showing the locality of each test hole in the valley, and the
spot whence every specimen of rock is obtained. On the return of the
party its reports and specimens are delivered to the mining bureau.
The ores go to the laboratory to be assayed, and the specimens of rock
are carefully sorted and examined.
Gold washings are conducted on the general plan of those in the
Yeneseisk government, the details varying according to circumstances.
A representation of the principal silver mine—somewhat on the plan of
Barnum’s “Niagara with Real Water”—was shown me in the museum. In
general features the mines are not materially unlike silver mines
elsewhere. There are shafts, adits, and levels just as in the mines of
Colorado and California. The Russians give the name of _priesk_ to a
mine where gold is washed from the earth. The silver mine with its
shafts in the solid rock is called a _roodnik._ As before stated, the
word _zavod_ is applied to foundries, smelting works, and
manufactories in general.
Colonel Filoff invited the doctor and myself to visit the zavod at
Barnaool on the second day after our arrival. As he spoke no language
with which I was familiar, the colonel placed me in charge of a young
officer fluent in French, who took great pains to explain the _modus
operandi_. The zavod is on a grand scale, and employs about six
hundred laborers. It is enclosed in a large yard with high walls, and
reminded me of a Pennsylvania iron foundry or the establishment just
below Detroit. A sentry at the gate presented arms as we passed, and I
observed that the rule of no admittance except on business was rigidly
enforced.
[Illustration: IN THE MINE.]
In the yard we were first taken to piles of ore which appeared to an
unpracticed eye like heaps of old mortar and broken granite. These
piles were near a stream which furnishes power for moving the
machinery of the establishment. The ore was exposed to the air and
snow, but the coal for smelting was carefully housed. There were many
sheds for storage within easy distance of the furnaces. The latter
were of brick with tall and substantial chimneys, and the outer walls
that surrounded the whole were heavily and strongly built. Charcoal
is burned in consequence of the cheapness and abundance of wood. I was
told that an excellent quality of stove coal existed in the vicinity,
and would be used whenever it proved most economical. Nearly all the
ore contains copper, silver, and lead, while the rest is deficient in
the last named article. The first kind is smelted without the addition
of lead, and sometimes passes through six or seven reductions. For the
ore containing only copper and silver the process by evaporation of
lead is employed. Formerly the lead was brought from Nerchinsk or
purchased in England, the land transport in either case being very
expensive. Several years ago lead was found in the Altai mountains,
and the supply is now sufficient for all purposes.
The lead absorbs the silver, and leaves the copper in the refuse
matter. This was formerly thrown away, but by a newly invented process
the copper is extracted and saved. The production of silver in the
Altai mines is about a thousand and fifty poods annually, or forty
thousand pounds avoirdupois. The silver is cast into bars or cakes
about ten inches square, and weighing from seventy to a hundred pounds
each.
Colonel Filoff showed us into the room where the silver is stored. Two
soldiers were on guard and six or eight others rested outside. A
sergeant brought a sealed box which contained the key of the safe.
First the box and then the safe were opened at the colonel’s order,
and when we had satisfied our curiosity, the safe was locked and the
key restored to its place of deposit. The colonel carried the seal
that closed the box, and the sergeant was responsible for the
integrity of the wax.
The cakes had a dull hue, somewhat lighter than that of lead, and were
of a convenient shape for handling. Each cake had its weight, and
value, and result of assay stamped upon it, and I was told that it was
assayed again at St. Petersburg to guard against the algebraic process
of substitution. About thirty poods of gold are extracted from every
thousand poods of silver after the treasure reaches St. Petersburg.
The silver is extracted from the lead used to absorb it, the latter
being again employed while the former goes on its long journey to the
banks of the Neva.
The ore continues to pass through successive reductions until a pood
of it contains no more than three-fourths a zolotink of silver; less
than that proportion will not pay expenses. I was told that the annual
cost of working the mines equaled the value of the silver produced.
The gold contained in the silver is the only item of profit to the
crown. About thirty thousand poods of copper are produced annually in
this district, but none of the copper zavods are at Barnaool.
[Illustration: STRANGE COINCIDENCE.]
All gold produced from the mines of Siberia, with the exception of
that around Nerchinsk, is sent to Barnaool to be smelted. This work is
performed, in a room about fifteen feet square, the furnaces being
fixed in its centre like parlor stoves of unusual size. The smelting
process continues four months of each year, and during this time about
twelve hundred poods of gold are melted and cast into bars. This work,
for 1866, was finished a few days before my arrival, and the furnaces
were utterly devoid of heat. In the yard at the zavod, I saw a dozen
or more sleds, and on each of them there was an iron-bound box filled
with bars of gold. This train was ready to leave under strong guard
for St. Petersburg.
The morning after my visit to the zavod it was reported that a soldier
guarding the sled train had been killed during the night. The incident
was a topic of conversation for the rest of my stay, but I obtained no
clear account of the affair. All agreed that a sentinel was murdered,
and one of the boxes plundered of several bars of gold, but beyond
this there were conflicting statements. It was the first occurrence of
the kind at Barnaool, and naturally excited the peaceful inhabitants.
The doctor trusted that the affair would not be associated with our
visit, and I quite agreed with him. It is to be hoped that the future
historian of Barnaool will not mention, the murder and robbery in the
same paragraph with the distinguished arrival of Dr. Schmidt and an
American traveler.
The rich miners send their gold once a year to Barnaool, the poorer
ones twice a year. Those in pressing need of money receive
certificates of deposit as soon as their gold is cast into bars, and
on these certificates they can obtain cash at the government banks.
The opulent miners remain content till their gold reaches the capital,
and is coined. Four or six months may thus elapse after gold has left
Barnaool before its owner obtains returns.
[Illustration: TAIL PIECE.]