The many vehicles in motion made a good road twelve hours after the
storm ceased. The thermometer fell quite low, and the sharp frost
hardened the track and enabled the horses to run rapidly. I found the
temperature varying from 25° to 40° below zero at different exposures.
This was cold enough, in fact, too cold for comfort, and we were
obliged to put on all our furs. When fully wrapped I could have filled
the eye of any match-making parent in Christendom, so far as quantity
is concerned. The doctor walked as if the icy and inhospitable North
had been his dwelling-place for a dozen generations, and promised to
continue so a few hundred years longer. We were about as agile as a
pair of prize hogs, or the fat boy in the side show of a circus.
My beard was the greatest annoyance that showed itself to my face, and
I regretted keeping it uncut. It was in the way in a great many ways.
When it was outside my coat I wanted it in, and when it was inside it
would not stay there. It froze to my collar and seemed studying the
doctrine of affinity. A sudden motion in such case would pull my chin
painfully and tear away a few hairs. It was neither long nor heavy,
but could hold a surprising quantity of snow and ice. It would freeze
into a solid mass, and when thawing required much attention. The
Russian officers shave the chin habitually, and wear their hair pretty
short when traveling. I made a resolution to carry my beard inviolate
to St. Petersburg, but frequently wished I had been less rash. A
mustache makes a very good portable thermometer for low temperatures.
After a little practice one can estimate within a few degrees any
stage of cold below zero, Fahrenheit. A mustache will frost itself
from the breath and stiffen slowly at zero, but It does not become
solid. It needs no waxing to enable it to hold its own when the scale
descends to -10° or thereabouts, and when one experiences -15° and so
on downward, he will feel as if wearing an icicle on his upper lip.
The estimate of the cold is to be based on the time required for a
thorough hardening of this labial ornament, and of course the rule is
not available if the face is kept covered.
There is a traveler’s story that a freezing nose in a Russian city is
seized upon and rubbed by the bystanders without explanation. In a
winter’s residence and travel in Russia I never witnessed that
interesting incident, and am inclined to scepticism regarding it. The
thermometer showed -53° while I was in St. Petersburg, and hovered
near that figure for several days. Though I constantly hoped to see
somebody’s nose rubbed I was doomed to disappointment. I did observe
several noses that might have been subjected to friction, but it is
quite probable the operation would have enraged the rub_bee_.
[Illustration: EXCUSE MY FAMILIARITY.]
During our coldest nights on the steppe we had the unclouded heavens
in all their beauty. The stars shone in scintillating magnificence,
and seemed nearer the earth than I ever saw them before. In the north
was a brilliant aurora flashing in long beams of electric light, and
forming a fiery arch above the fields of ice and snow. Oh, the
splendor of those winter nights In the north! It cannot be forgotten,
and it cannot be described.
Twilight is long in a Siberian winter, both at the commencement and
the close of day. Morning is the best time to view it. A faint glimmer
appears in the quarter where the sun is to rise, but increases so
slowly that one often doubts that he has really seen it. The gleam of
light grows broader; the heavens above it become purple, then scarlet,
then golden, and gradually change to the whiteness of silver. When the
sun peers above the horizon the whole scene becomes dazzlingly
brilliant from the reflection of his rays on the snow. In the coldest
mornings there is sometimes a cloud or fog-bank resting near the
earth, from the congelation and falling of all watery particles in the
atmosphere. When the sun strikes this cloud and one looks through it
the air seems filled with millions of microscopic gems, throwing off
many combinations of prismatic colors, and agitated and mingled by
some unseen force. Gradually the cloud melts away as it receives the
direct rays of light and heat.
[Illustration: FROSTED HORSES.]
The intense cold upon the road affects horses by coating them, with
white frost. Their perspiration congeals and covers them as one may
see the grass covered in a November morning. Nature has dressed these
horses warmly, and very often their hair may justly be called fur.
They do not appear to suffer from the cold; they are never blanketed,
and their stables are little better than open sheds. One of their
annoyances is the congelation of their breath, and in the coldest
weather the yemshicks are frequently obliged to break away the icicles
that form around their horses’ mouths. I have seen a horse reach the
end of a course with his nose encircled in a row of icy spikes,
resembling the decoration sometimes attached to a weaning calf.
In a clear morning or evening of the coldest days the smoke from the
chimneys in the villages rises very slowly. Gaining a certain height,
it spreads out as if unable to ascend farther. It is always light in
color and density, and when touched by the sun’s rays appears faintly
crimsoned or gilded. Once when we reached a small hill dominating a
village, I could see the cloud of smoke below me agitated like the
ground swell of the ocean. I had only a moment to look upon it ere we
descended to the level of the street.
I have not recorded the incidents of each day on the steppe in
chronological order, on account of their similarity and monotony. Just
one week after our departure from Barnaool we observed that the houses
were constructed of pine instead of birch, and the country began to
change in character. At a station where a fiery-tempered woman
required us to pay in advance for our horses, we were only twenty
versts from Tumen.
It is but a step from the sublime to the ridiculous, and it is only a
steppe (a thousand miles wide) between Tomsk and Tumen. Travelers from
Irkutsk to St. Petersburg consider their journey pretty nearly
accomplished on getting thus far along. The Siberians make light of
distances that would frighten many Americans. “From Tumen you will
have only sixteen hundred versts to the end of the railway,” said a
gentleman to me one day. A lady at Krasnoyarsk said I ought to wait
until spring and visit her gold mines. I asked their locality, and
received the reply, “Close by here; only four hundred versts away. You
can go almost there in a carriage, and will have only a hundred and
twenty versts on horseback.”
The best portion of Tumen is on a bluff eighty or a hundred feet above
the river Tura. The lower town spreads over a wide meadow, and its
numerous windmills at once reminded me of Stockton, California. We
happened to arrive on market day, when the peasants from the
surrounding country were gathered in all their glory for purposes of
traffic. How such a lot of merchandise of nearly every kind under the
Siberian sun could find either buyer or seller, it is difficult to
imagine. The market-place was densely thronged, but there seemed to be
very little traffic in progress.
The population of Tumen is about twenty thousand, and said to be
rapidly increasing. The town is prosperous, as its many new and
well-built houses bear witness. It has shorn Tobolsk of nearly all her
commerce, and left her to mourn her former greatness. It is about
three hundred versts from the ridge of the Urals, and at the head of
navigation on the Tura. Half a dozen steamers were frozen in and
awaited the return of spring, their machinery being stored to prevent
its rusting.
In the public square of Tumen there was a fountain, the first I saw in
Siberia. Men, women, boys, and girls were filling buckets and barrels,
which they dragged away on sleds.
When we returned from our drive, and were seated at dinner, the cook
brought a quantity of “Tumen carpets” for sale. He used all his
eloquence upon me, but in vain. These carpets were made by hand in the
villages around Tumen, their material being goat’s hair. From their
appearance I judged that a coarse cloth was “looped” full of thread,
which was afterward cut to a plush surface. Some of the figures were
quite pretty. These carpets can be found in nearly every peasant house
in Western Siberia, where they are used as bed and table coverings,
floor mats, and carriage robes.
From Tumen to Nijne Novgorod the post is in the hands of a company,
and one can buy a ticket for any distance he chooses. We bought to
Ekaterineburg, 306 versts, paying nine copecks a verst for each
vehicle. At the stations it is only necessary to show the ticket,
which will bring horses without delay. The company has a splendid
monopoly, protected by an imperial order forbidding competition. The
peasants would gladly take travelers at lower rates if the practice
were permitted. The only thing they can do is to charter their horses
to the company at about one-third the ticket prices. Alexander would
make many friends among the people by curtailing the monopoly.
From the Tura the country became undulating as we approached the
Urals, but we passed no rugged hills. A great deal of the road lay
between double rows of birch trees, that serve for shade in summer and
do much to prevent the drifting of snow in winter. Forests of fir
appeared on the slopes, and were especially pleasing after the
half-desolation of the steppe.
The villages had a larger and more substantial appearance, that
indicated our approach to Europe. Long trains laden with freight from
Perm, blocked the way and delayed us. A few collisions made our sleigh
tremble, and in two instances turned it on its beam ends. We were
ahead of the tea trains that left Irkutsk with the early snows, so
that we passed few sledges going in our own direction. The second
night found us so near Ekaterineburg that we halted a couple of hours
for the double purpose of taking tea and losing time.
At the last station, about six in the morning, we were greeted with
Christmas festivities. While we waited in the traveler’s room, two
boys sung or chanted several minutes, and then begged for money. We
gave them a few copecks, and their success brought two others, who
were driven away by the smotretal. I was told that poor children have
a privilege of begging in this manner on Christmas morning. There are
many beggars in the towns and villages of the Urals, and in summer
there is a fair supply of highwaymen. Several beggars surrounded our
sleigh as we prepared to depart and seemed determined to make the most
of the occasion.
The undulations of the road increased, and the fir woods became
thicker as we approached Ekaterineburg, nestled on the bank of the
Isset. Just outside the town we passed a large zavod, devoted to the
manufacture of candles. An immense quantity of tallow from the
Kirghese steppes undergoes conversion into stearine at this
establishment, and the production supplies candles to all Siberia and
part of European Russia.
As we entered the _slobodka_ and descended rapidly toward the river,
the bells were clanging loudly and the population was generally on its
way to church. The men were in their best shoobas and caps, while the
women displayed the latest fashions in winter cloaks. Several pretty
faces, rosy from the biting frost, peered at the strangers, who
returned as many glances as possible. Our yemshick took us to the
Hotel de Berlin, and, for the first time in eighteen hundred versts,
we unloaded our baggage from the sleighs. Breakfast, a bath, and a
change of clothes prepared me for the sights of this Uralian city.
For sight-seeing, the time of my arrival was unfortunate. Every kind
of work was suspended, every shop was closed, and nothing could be
done until the end of the Christmas holidays. I especially desired to
inspect the _Granilnoi Fabric_, or Imperial establishment for stone
cutting, and the machine shop where all steam engines for Siberia are
manufactured. But, as everything had yielded to the general
festivities, I could not gratify my desire.
Ekaterineburg is on the Asiatic side of the Urals, though belonging to
the European government of Perm. It has a beautiful situation, the
Isset being dammed so as to form a small lake in the middle of the
city. Many of the best houses overlook this lake, and, from their
balconies, one can enjoy charming views of the city, water, and the
dark forests of the Urals. The principal street and favorite drive
passes at the end of the lake, and is pretty well thronged in fine
weather. There are many wealthy citizens in Ekaterineburg, as the
character of the houses will attest. I was told there was quite a rage
among them for statuary, pictures, and other works of art. Special
care is bestowed upon conservatories, some of which contain tropical
plants imported at enormous expense. The population is about twenty
thousand, and increases very slowly.
[Illustration: VIEW OF EKATERINEBURG.]
The city is the central point of mining enterprises of the Ural
mountains, and the residence of the Nachalnik, or chief of mines. The
general plan of management is much like that already described at
Barnaool. The government mines include those of iron, copper, and
gold, the latter being of least importance. Great quantities of shot,
shell, and guns have been made in the Urals, as well as iron work for
more peaceful purposes. Beside the government works, there are
numerous foundries and manufactories of a private character. In
various parts of the Ural chain some of the zavods are of immense
extent, and employ large numbers of workmen. At Nijne Tagilsk, for
example, there is a population of twenty-five thousand, all engaged
directly or indirectly in the production of iron.
The sheet iron so popular in America for parlor stoves and stove pipe,
comes from Ekaterineburg and its vicinity, and is made from magnetic
ore. The bar iron of the Urals is famous the world over for its
excellent qualities, and commands a higher price than any other. Great
quantities of iron are floated in boats down the streams flowing into
the Kama and Volga. Thence it goes to the fair at Nijne Novgorod, and
to the points of shipment to the maritime markets.
The development of the wealth of the Urals has been largely due to the
Demidoff family. Nikite Demidoff was sent by Peter the Great, about
the year 1701, to examine the mines on both sides of the chain. He
performed his work thoroughly, and was so well satisfied with the
prospective wealth of the region that he established himself there
permanently. In return for his services, the government granted a
large tract to the Demidoffs in perpetuity. The famous malachite mines
are on the Demidoff estate, but are only a small portion of the
mineral wealth in the original grant. I have heard the Demidoff family
called the richest in Russia—except the Romanoff. Many zavods in the
Urals were planned and constructed by Nikite and his descendants, and
most of them are still in successful operation and have undergone no
change. The iron works of the Urals are very extensive, and capable
of supplying any reasonable demand of individual or imperial
character. At Zlatoust there is a manufactory of firearms and sword
blades that is said to be unsurpassed in the excellence of its
products. The sabres from Zlatoust are of superior fineness and
quality, rivaling the famous blades of Damascus and Toledo.
Close by the little lake in Ekaterineburg is the _Moneta Fabric,_ or
Imperial mint, where all the copper money of Russia is coined. It is
an extensive concern, and most of its machinery was constructed in the
city. The copper mines of the Urals are the richest in Russia, and
possess inexhaustible wealth. Malachite—an oxide of copper—is found
here in large quantities. I believe the only mines where malachite is
worked are in the Urals, though small specimens of this beautiful
mineral have been found near Lake Superior and in Australia.
About twenty-five years ago an enormous mass of malachite, said to
weigh 400 tons, was discovered near Tagilsk. It has since been broken
up and removed, its value being more than a million roubles. Sir
Roderick Murchison, while exploring the Urals on behalf of the Russian
government, saw this treasure while the excavations around it were in
progress. According to his account it was found 280 feet below the
surface. Strings of copper were followed by the miners until they
unexpectedly reached the malachite. Other masses of far less
importance have since been found, some of them containing sixty per
cent. of copper.
The gold mines of the Ural are less extensive now than formerly, new
discoveries not equaling the exhausted placers. They are principally
on the Asiatic slope, in the vicinity of Kamenskoi. The Emperor
Alexander First visited the mines of the Ural in 1824, and personally
wielded the shovel and pickaxe nearly two hours. A nugget weighing
twenty-four pounds and some ounces was afterward found about two feet
below the point where His Majesty ‘knocked off’ work. A monument now
marks the spot, and contains the tools handled by the Emperor.