A MOST PALATIAL HOTEL!
The Grand Hotel Moscow, in the good city of Omsk, was grand in name
only, and we had only to step inside its portals to realize to the
fullest extent that at length we were in Asia. Bad as had been the
generality of hotels in European Russia, they seemed like palaces
beside this ramshackle affair which was dignified by the name of
hotel. A few broken and wretchedly dirty stone steps led us into a
white-washed passage, which was flanked on either side by low doorways
leading to the six bedrooms--all the “hostinitca” possessed. Scawell
barked his shin badly by falling over the brick which, suspended on a
rope over a pulley, kept the inner door of the passage closed. Gaskell
gave vent to an American expression when he tripped over a long stretch
of dirty canvas which was lying, as a sort of apology for a carpet,
down the length of the corridor.
The proprietor of the hotel received us with the glare of avarice in
his grey eyes. We bargained with him at length for merely the favour of
a shelter; for that was all we could expect. He gave us a room for the
outrageous charge of four roubles (eight shillings and sixpence), and
that was thirty per cent. below his original demand. A lovely room it
was too! Two rickety, broken-backed chairs, a small square table, and a
truckle bed, on which reposed a filthy and suspicious-looking mattress,
formed its sole furniture. The floor was carpetless save for a canvas
strip by the door. The usual domestic utensils were absent; there was
not even a washstand. There was no lock on the door; the windows were
immovable; the walls were of beams laid one on top of another, with
the interstices filled with moss and hay to keep out the draught. A
delectable hotel this, but in nowise worse than the majority of such
places throughout the whole of Siberia.
In case my readers may think I am over-painting this description, it
may be as well to explain the why and wherefore of this seemingly
barbaric state of things. In the first place, up to the commencement
of the Siberian railway, as I have explained in a previous chapter,
the only means of communication with interior Siberia was by means of
horses. Such enormous distances had to be covered between towns that,
in order to accommodate the large number of travellers, the Government
erected, on the great high-road which pierces the heart of Siberia,
stations at intervals of twenty-five to thirty miles. At these stations
horses could be hired at rates set down on a Government schedule, but
beyond this and the shelter afforded nothing was provided. It was thus
necessary at the outset of the system for the traveller to provide
everything requisite for the journey himself. In addition to his
luggage, the wise Siberian traveller carried his bed, bed-clothing,
food, and, in short, everything that he might require, rendering
himself absolutely independent of hospitality on the way. On his
arrival at a post-station, he asked for, and wanted nothing but the
samovar, or machine for boiling water, with which he made his tea. The
charge for the samovar is ten kopecks, which equals twopence-halfpenny.
No charge whatever was or is made for the use of the post-house. If
one, therefore, excluded the cost of horses, the traveller’s outlay was
wonderfully small.
As the towns contained the post-stations as well as the villages,
and as the traveller came provided with everything he wanted, it may
be readily inferred that the chances of a hotel succeeding are very
small, inasmuch as the average Russian is parsimonious, even at the
expense of his personal comfort. With, however, the opening of the
country by means of the railway, it stands to reason that a new class
of travellers will spring up, and thus better accommodation may be
provided. The demand for this better accommodation must come from the
foreigners, for the Russians themselves are sticklers for custom and
habit, and the finest hotel erected for their use would meet but mean
patronage at their hands.
Thus it was that the accommodation we received at Omsk was of such
a wretched character. Unfortunately we were not so versed in things
Russian as the Russians themselves, and our inquiry for four beds was
met with a stare of astonishment. We did not press the matter, however,
after one of us had made an inspection of the mattress which had
already been provided. We thought it safer to sleep on our rugs on the
floor.
And so it was in this city of Omsk, capital of the Government of
Omsk, a military garrison, the residence of a general governor, four
Englishmen could get no better dinner than hard-boiled eggs, a tin
of sardines, and black bread, to be washed down with tea, out of
glasses, and made from the steaming samovar. Of course, had we been of
the usual run of travellers, that it to say functionaries, we should
have probably possessed papers which would have admitted us to some
Government residence. Being, however, only Englishmen, we had to put up
with what we could get.
And as the time wore on, our love of the place did not intensify. We
did not mind the blackbeetles so much as the animals which dropped
from the ceiling in order to disturb our slumbers. I think we were all
pretty hardened members, but the vermin of that room rather got the
best of us. Yet this hotel should not be singled out as a speciality in
that direction. Conversation on the subject once elicited a tale from
a fellow-traveller who, as well as carrying his bedstead with him took
four saucers and a can of kerosene. On fixing up his bed for the night,
his invariable custom was to fit the legs of the bed one into each
saucer and to fill the said saucer with kerosene--the suggestion being
that nothing alive would pass the kerosene without being asphixiated.
But even that, said our traveller, did not keep him out of trouble, for
these things of life, with a sagacity which one would hardly credit in
so small an insect, would make a detour by getting up the wall, on to
the ceiling, and then, having accurately poised, drop down upon the
victim--no doubt to his extreme discomfort. A painful and disagreeable
subject this, and one which I shall not allude to again.
Our ablutions in the morning were performed in what will, no doubt, be
considered a highly original manner. Having conceived the idea that
the removal of at least one layer of grime from our hands and faces
would not prejudice our case in Omsk, the difficulty was to find how
this was to be accomplished. Judicious inquiries revealed the fact that
at the end of the corridor the proprietor of the hotel had provided
an arrangement for the convenience of those who were so fastidious as
to desire to wash. This arrangement was nothing more or less than a
brazen bowl, about the size of a small kettle, which was nailed on the
wall. A knob protruded from the bottom of the bowl which, on being
jerked up vigorously, let forth a few drops of water on the hands;
and so with drops so obtained we managed with extreme economy to get
through the mockery of a wash. The waste and the drips went on our
knees and splashed around generally, but as nobody cavilled we were
content. Having primed ourselves on eggs, bread, and tea, we felt fit
to do the town; so, after getting into our felt boots and our furs, we
sallied forth.
Omsk is the second city of Western Siberia, and its population,
excluding the large proportion of Khirghiz, has been variously
estimated at between twenty and thirty thousand. It is a trading
centre, for here the steamers from Tiumen and Tobolsk call, and a
large quantity of merchandize is landed or shipped. European goods
come through Moscow, to Nijni Novgorod by rail, are shipped then on
the Volga and Kama to Perm, by train again through Ekaterinburg to
Tiumen, and by steamer once more on the Toura, Tobol, and Irtish to
find destination at Omsk, whence they are distributed to the outlying
towns and villages of the great Baraba steppe. It has in its time been
a very prosperous town, and for many years the shopkeepers, cut off
from direct competition, have made enormous profits and amassed huge
fortunes. The merchants, in fact, form the only society of the city.
All seem opulent; and no wonder, when one considers the prices which
are asked for even the common necessaries of life. There is a shadow,
however, looming over the fortunes of the Omsk merchants, and that is
the Trans-Siberian Railway. None realize this better than the merchants
themselves, who see that in a few years they will have to face
something which they have heard of but never experienced--competition
with the outside world. It is said that the community of Omsk was
bitterly opposed to the railway passing through the city, “You will
ruin our trade,” they cried as with one voice; but the decree of the
Emperor had gone forth, and through Omsk went the railway. Ultimately,
of course, the city will benefit enormously by being in touch with
Europe, but narrow-minded and short-sighted as is the Siberian, it is
hard to convince him of this at the present time.
The internal opposition to the Trans-Siberian Railway was widespread,
and at Tomsk--one of the most important cities of Siberia--the
representations made were so strong that the course of the line (which
I am led to understand was originally planned to take in that city)
was altered, and passed in a straight line some sixty miles south. The
citizens of Tomsk, however, speedily realized the terrible blunder they
had made in isolating themselves from the civilizing trading influence
of the iron road. The tide of trade flowing into Siberia passed by
Tomsk and ebbed into Krasnoiarsk, five hundred miles further on. Tomsk
was stranded, and the doom of the city almost sealed. Representations
were made, and a branch line was constructed to connect with the main
road; but even this will not repay the initial mistake, and people who
ought to know assert that Tomsk, which was once, next to Irkutsk, the
most important city in all Siberia, must by force of circumstances sink
into insignificance.
But reverting to Omsk, I do not think that it was the opinion of any
one of the four of us that it was the most agreeable place to spend
any length of time in. A city of wide streets, handsome churches, big
Government buildings, and a multitude of frame houses. The governor’s
palace and the military academy are perhaps the finest edifices apart
from the cathedral and the churches, which are always the most handsome
buildings of any Russian centre. I had the pleasure of an interview
with M. Boulanger, a French gentleman of culture who was head of the
academy. He confessed that it was like a ray of sunlight from his
beloved France to speak to one who knew his land, for he had lived
in Omsk for thirty-five years. I gazed upon him in astonishment.
Thirty-five years in Omsk! That dump of houses in the middle of a
wilderness! With a seven months’ cruel winter! Out of touch with
the world! But time had worked its charm, no doubt; he had resigned
himself. He spoke feelingly, though, of the land of his birth--for
who, be he native or alien, can do aught but love the fair land of
France?--and I, being fresh comparatively from the Western lands, could
not but sympathize with him in that resignation.