The great steppe of Baraba is quite monotonous, as there is very
little change of scenery in traveling over it. Whoever has been south
or west from Chicago, or west from Leavenworth, in winter, can form a
very good idea of the steppe. The winter appearance is much like that
of a western prairie covered with snow. Whether there is equal
similarity in summer I am unable to say. The country is flat or
slightly undulating, and has a scanty growth of timber. Sometimes
there were many versts without trees, then there would be a scattered
and straggling display of birches, and again the growth was dense
enough to be called a forest. The principal arboreal productions are
birches, and I found the houses, sheds, and fences in most of the
villages constructed of birch timber. The open part of the steppe, far
more extensive than the wooded portion, was evidently favorable to the
growth of grass, as I saw a great deal protruding above the snow.
There are many marshy and boggy places, covered in summer with a dense
growth of reeds. They are a serious inconvenience to the traveler on
account of the swarms of mosquitoes, gnats, and other tormenting
insects that they produce.
While crossing the Baraba swamps in summer, men and women are obliged
to wear veils as a protection against these pests. Horses are
sometimes killed by their bites, and frequently became thin in flesh
from the constant annoyance. A gentleman told me that once when
crossing the swamps one of his horses, maddened by the insects, broke
from the carriage and fled out of sight among the tall reeds. The
yemshicks, who knew the locality, said the animal would certainly be
killed by his winged pursuers in less than twenty-four hours.
There is much game on the steppe in summer, birds being more numerous
than beasts. The only winter game we saw was the white partridge,
(_kurupatki_,) of which we secured several specimens.
The steppe is fertile, and in everything the soil can produce the
people are wealthy. They have wheat, rye, and oats in abundance, but
pay little attention to garden vegetables. In 1866 the crops were
small in all parts of Siberia west of Lake Baikal, and I frequently
heard the peasants complaining of high prices. They said such a season
was almost unprecedented. On the steppe oats were forty copecks, and
wheat and rye seventy copecks a pood; equaling about thirty cents and
seventy-five cents a bushel respectively. In some years wheat has been
sold for ten copecks the pood, and other products at proportionate
prices. We paid twelve copecks the dizaine for eggs, which frequently
sell for one-third that sum.
The fertility of the soil cannot be turned to great account, as there
is no general market. Men and horses engaged in the transportation and
postal service create a limited demand, but there is little sale
beyond this. With so small a market there are very few rich
inhabitants on the steppe; and with edibles at a cheap rate, there are
few cases of extreme poverty. We rarely saw beggars, and on the other
hand we found nobody who was able to dress in broadcloth and fine
linen and fare sumptuously every day.
Hay is abundant, and may be cut on any unclaimed part of the steppe. I
was told that in some places the farmers of a village assemble on
horseback at an appointed time. At a given signal all start for the
haying spots, and the first arrival has the first choice. There is
enough for all, and in ordinary seasons no grass less than knee high
is considered worth cutting.
At the villages we generally obtained excellent bread of unbolted
wheat flour, rye being rarely used. There were many windmills of
clumsy construction, the wheels having but four wings, and the whole
concern turning on a pivot to bring its face to the wind. No bolting
apparatus has been introduced, and the machinery is of the simplest
and most primitive character. It was a period of fasting, just before
Christmas, and our whole obtainable bill of fare comprised bread and
eggs. As we reached a certain station we asked what we could get to
eat.
“Everything,” was the prompt reply of the smotretal. We were hungry,
and this information was cheering.
“Give us some _schee_, if you please,” said the doctor.
An inquiry in the kitchen showed this edible to be ‘just out.’
“Some beef, then?”
There was no beef to be had. Cutlets were alike negatived.
“Any pilmania?” was our next inquiry.
“_Nierte; nizniu_.”
The ‘everything’ hunted down consisted of eggs, bread, and hot water.
We brought out a boiled ham, that was generally our _piece de
resistance_, and made a royal meal. If _trichina spiralis_ existed in
Siberian ham, it was never able to disturb us. We found no fruit as
there are no orchards in Siberia. Attempts have been made to cultivate
fruit, but none have succeeded. A little production about the size of
a whortleberry was shown me in Eastern Siberia, where it was pickled
and served up as a relish with meat. “This is the Siberian apple,”
said the gentleman who first exhibited it, “and it has degenerated to
what you see since its introduction from Europe.” On dissecting one of
these little berries, I found it possessed the anatomy of the apple,
with seeds smaller than pin-heads.
Kotzebue and other travelers say there are no bees in Siberia, but the
assertion is incorrect. I saw native honey enough to convince me on
this point, and learned that bees are successfully raised in the
southern part of Asiatic Russia.
We were not greatly delayed in our team changing, though we lost
several hours in small instalments. We had two sleighs, and although
there were anywhere up to a dozen men to prepare them, the harnessing
of one team was generally completed before the other was led out. When
the horses were ready, the driver often went to fetch his dehar and
make his toilet. In this way we would lose five or ten minutes, a
small matter by itself, but a large one when under heavy
multiplication.
[Illustration: THE DRIVER’S TOILET.]
We took breakfast and dinner daily in the peasants’ houses, which we
found very much like the stations. We carried our own tea and sugar,
and with a fair supply of provisions, added what we could obtain. Tea
was the great solace of the journey, and proved, above all others, the
beverage which cheers. I could swallow several cups at a sitting, and
never failed to find myself refreshed. It is far better than vodki or
brandy for traveling purposes, and many Russians who are pretty free
drinkers at home adhere quite closely to tea on the road. The merchant
traveler drinks enormous quantities, and I have seen a couple of these
worthies empty a twenty cup samovar with no appearance of surfeit. So
much hot liquid inside generally sets them into a perspiration.
Nothing but loaf sugar is used, and there is a very common practice of
holding a lump in one hand and following a sip of the unsweetened tea
with a nibble at the sugar. When several persons are engaged in this
rasping process a curious sound is produced.
There are many Tartars living on the steppe, but we saw very little of
them, as our changes were made at the Russian villages. Before the
reign of Catherine II. there was but a small population between Tumen
and Tomsk, and the road was more a fiction than a fact. The Governor
General of Siberia persuaded Catherine to let him have all conscripts
of one levy instead of sending them to the army. He settled them in
villages along the route over the steppe, and the wisdom of his policy
was very soon apparent. The present population is made up of the
descendants of these and other early settlers, together with exiles
and voluntary emigrants of the present century. Several villages have
a bad reputation, and I heard stories of robbery and murder. In
general the dwellers on the steppe are reputable, and they certainly
impressed me favorably.
I was told by a Russian that Catherine once thought of giving the
Siberians a constitution somewhat like that of the United States of
America, but was dissuaded from so doing by one of her ministers.
[Illustration: WOMEN SPINNING.]
The villages were generally built each in a single street, or at most,
in two streets. The largest houses had yards, or enclosures, into
which we drove when stopping for breakfast or dinner. The best windows
were of glass or talc, fixed in frames, and generally made double. The
poorer peasants contented themselves with windows of ox or cow
stomachs, scraped thin and stretched in drying. There were no iron
stoves In any house I visited, the Russian _peitcha_ or brick stove
being universal. Very often we found the women and girls engaged in
spinning. No wheel is used for this purpose, the entire apparatus
being a hand spindle and a piece of board. The flax is fastened on an
upright board, and the fingers of the left hand gather the fibres and
begin the formation of a thread. The right hand twirls the spindle,
and by skillful manipulation a good thread is formed with considerable
rapidity.
A great deal of hemp and flax is raised upon the steppe, and we found
rope abundant, cheap, and good. I bought ten fathoms of half-inch rope
for forty copecks, a peasant bringing it to a house where we
breakfasted. When I paid for it the mistress of the house quietly
appropriated ten copecks, remarking that the rope maker owed her that
amount. She talked louder and more continuously than any other woman I
met in Siberia, and awakened my wonder by going barefooted into an
open shed and remaining there several minutes. She stood in snow and
on ice, but appeared quite unconcerned. Our thermometer at the time
showed a temperature of 21° below zero.
The only city on the steppe is Omsk, at the junction of the Om and
Irtish, and the capital of Western Siberia. It is said to contain
twelve thousand inhabitants, and its buildings are generally well
constructed. We did not follow the post route through Omsk, but took a
cut-off that carried us to the northward and saved a hundred versts of
sleigh riding. The city was founded in order to have a capital in the
vicinity of the Kirghese frontier, but since its construction the
frontier line has removed far away.
In 1834 a conspiracy, extending widely through Siberia, was organized
at Omsk. M. Piotrowski gives an account of it, from which I abridge
the following:
It was planned by the Abbe Sierosiuski, a Polish Catholic priest who
had been exiled for taking part in the rebellion of 1831. He was sent
to serve in the ranks of a Cossack regiment in Western Siberia, and
after a brief period of military duty was appointed teacher in the
military school at Omsk. His position gave him opportunity to project
a rebellion. His plan was well laid, and found ready supporters among
other exiles, especially the Poles. Some ambitious Russians and
Tartars were in the secret. The object was to secure the complete
independence of Siberia and the release of all prisoners. In the event
of failure it was determined to march over the Kirghese steppes to
Tashkend, and attempt to reach British India.
Everything was arranged, both in Eastern and Western Siberia. The
revolt was to begin at Omsk, where most of the conspirators were
stationed, and where there was an abundance of arms, ammunition,
supplies, and money. The evening before the day appointed for the
rising, the plot was revealed by three Polish soldiers, who confessed
all they knew to Colonel Degrave, the governor of Omsk. Sierosiuski
and his fellow conspirators in the city were at once arrested, and
orders were despatched over the whole country to secure all
accomplices and suspected persons. About a thousand arrests were made,
and as soon as news of the affair reached St. Petersburg, a commission
of inquiry was appointed. The investigations lasted until 1837, when
they were concluded and the sentences confirmed.
[Illustration: FLOGGING WITH STICKS.]
Six principal offenders, including the chief, were each condemned to
seven thousand blows of the _plette_, or stick, while walking the
gauntlet between two files of soldiers. This is equivalent to a death
sentence, as very few men can survive more than four thousand blows.
Only one of the six outlived the day when the punishment was
inflicted, some falling dead before the full number of strokes had
been given. The minor offenders were variously sentenced, according to
the extent of their guilt, flogging with the stick being followed by
penal colonization or military service in distant garrisons.
It is said that the priest Sierosiuski while undergoing his punishment
recited in a clear voice the Latin prayer, “Misere mei, Deus, secundum
magnam misericordium tuam.”
On approaching the Irtish we found it bordered by hills which
presented steep banks toward the river. The opposite bank was low and
quite level. It is a peculiarity of most rivers in Russia that the
right banks rise into bluffs, while the opposite shores are low and
flat. The Volga is a fine example of this, all the way from Tver to
Astrachan, and the same feature is observable in most of the Siberian
streams that reach the Arctic Ocean. Various conjectures account for
it, but none are satisfactory to scientific men.
Steamboats have ascended to Omsk, but there is not sufficient traffic
to make regular navigation profitable. We crossed the Irtish two
hundred and seventy versts south of Tobolsk, a city familiar to
American readers from its connection with the “Story of Elizabeth.”
The great road formerly passed through Tobolsk, and was changed when a
survey of the country showed that two hundred versts might be saved.
Formerly all exiles to Siberia were first sent to that city, where a
“Commission of Transportation” held constant session. From Tobolsk the
prisoners were told off to the different governments, provinces,
districts, and ‘circles,’ and assigned to the penalties prescribed by
their sentences.
Many prominent exiles have lived in the northern part of the
government of Tobolsk, especially at Beresov on the river Ob.
Menshikoff, a favorite of Peter the Great, died there in exile, and so
did the Prince Dolgorouki and the count Osterman. It is said the body
of Menshikoff was buried in the frozen earth at Beresov, and found
perfectly preserved a hundred years after its interment. In that
region the ground never thaws more than a foot or two from the
surface; below to an unknown depth it is hardened by perpetual frost.
Many Poles have been involuntary residents of this region, and
contributed to the development of its few resources.
North of Tobolsk, the Ostiaks are the principal aboriginals, and
frequently wander as far south as Omsk. Before the Russian occupation
of Siberia the natives carried on a trade with the Tartars of Central
Asia, and the abundance and cheapness of their furs made them
attractive customers. Marco Polo mentions a people “in the dark
regions of the North, who employ dogs to draw their sledges, and trade
with the merchants from Bokhara.” There is little doubt he referred to
the Ostiaks and Samoyedes.
A Polish lady exiled to Beresov in 1839, described in her journal her
sensation at seeing a herd of tame bears driven through the streets to
the market place, just as cattle are driven elsewhere. She records
that while descending the Irtish she had the misfortune to fall
overboard. The soldier escorting her was in great alarm, at the
accident, and fairly wept for joy when she was rescued. He explained
through his tears that her death would have been a serious calamity to
him.
“I shall be severely punished,” he said, “if any harm befalls you,
and, for my sake, I hope you won’t try to drown yourself, but will
keep alive and well till I get rid of you.”
Tobolsk is on the site of the Tartar settlement of Sibeer, from which
the name of Siberia is derived. In the days of Genghis Khan northern
Asia was overrun and wrested from its aboriginal inhabitants. Tartar
supremacy was undisputed until near the close of the sixteenth
century, when the Tartars lost Kazan and everything else west of the
Urals. During the reign of Ivan the Cruel, a difficulty arose between
the Czar and some of the Don Cossacks, and, as the Czar did not choose
to emigrate, the Cossacks left their country for their country’s good.
Headed by one Yermak, they retired to the vicinity of the Ural
mountains, where they started a marauding business with limited
liability and restricted capital. Crossing the Urals, Yermak
subjugated the country west of the Irtish and founded a fortress on
the site of Sibeer. He overpowered all the Tartars in his vicinity,
and received a pardon for himself and men in return for his conquest.
The czar, as a mark of special fondness, sent Yermak a suit of armor
from his own wardrobe. Yermak went one day to dine with some Tartar
chiefs, and was arrayed for the first time in his new store clothes.
One tradition says he was treacherously killed by the Tartars on this
occasion, and thrown in the river. Another story says he fell in by
accident, and the weight of his armor drowned him. A monument at
Tobolsk commemorates his deeds.
No leader rose to fill Yermak’s place, and the Russians became divided
into several independent bands. They had the good sense not to
quarrel, and remained firm in the pursuit of conquest. They pushed
eastward from the Irtish and founded Tomsk in 1604. Ten years later
the Tartars united and attempted to expel the Russians. They
surrounded Tomsk and besieged it for a long time. Russia was then
distracted by civil commotions and the war with the Poles, and could
not assist the Cossacks. The latter held out with great bravery, and
at length gained a decisive victory. From that time the Tartars made
no serious and organized resistance.
Subsequent expeditions for Siberian conquest generally originated at
Tomsk. Cossacks pushed to the north, south, and east, forming
settlements in the valley of the Yenesei and among the Yakuts of the
Lena. In 1639 they reached the shores of the Ohotsk sea, and took
possession of all Eastern Siberia to the Aldan mountains.
I believe history has no parallel to some features of this conquest. A
robber-chieftain with a few hundred followers,—himself and his men
under ban, and, literally, the first exiles to Siberia—passes from
Europe to Asia. In seventy years these Cossacks and their descendants,
with, little aid from others, conquered a region containing nearly
five million square miles. Everywhere displaying a spirit of adventure
and determined bravery, they reduced the Tartars to the most perfect
submission. The cost of their expeditions was entirely borne by
individuals who sought remuneration in the lucrative trade they
opened. The captured territory became Russian, though the government
had neither paid for nor controlled the conquest.
I saw the portrait and bust of Yermak, but no one could assure me of
their fidelity. The face was thoroughly Russian, and the lines of
character were such as one might expect from the history of the man.
He was represented in the suit of armor he wore at his death.
[Illustration: TAIL PIECE]