_FROM TIUMEN TO TOBOLSK._
General remarks on Siberia.--Limits.--Area.--Temperature.--
Divisions.--Roads.--Ethnography.--Language.--Posting
to Tobolsk.--Floods.--Spring roads.--Villages of
Tatars.--Their history.--Characteristics.--Costumes.--
Occupation.--Worship.--Language.
Between Ekaterineburg and Tiumen, as already intimated, the traveller
passes into Siberia,--concerning which country it may be well here to
make some general observations, with a view to the better understanding
of future chapters. The western boundary of this immense region runs
from the Arctic Ocean along the chain of the Northern Urals to a point
in about the same latitude as Lake Onega; then, leaving the mountains
a little to the left, it comes down in a tolerably straight line to
a point midway between the Sea of Aral and Lake Balkash; thence it
turns eastward to and along the northern shore of the lake, and, going
further east, joins the Altai Mountains. All Russia lying to the west
and south of this line is either in Europe or in Asia; all lying to
the east of it is Siberia, the length and breadth of which are the
same as of Russia in Asia; whilst its area, as given in recent Russian
statistics, is 4,750,000 square miles, or more than three thousand
millions of acres (3,185,510,900), of which nearly one-fifth is arable.
The river Yenesei (roughly speaking) divides the country into east
and west, the surface of the western portion being almost entirely
flat, whilst the eastern portion, especially towards the Pacific, is
mountainous. Siberia extends over nearly 40 degrees of latitude, and
in climate ranges from arctic to semi-tropical. In passing through the
country from west to east, from the end of May to the beginning of
October, between the 50th and 57th parallels, we found the temperature
much the same as during the same period in England. When steaming on
the Obi, at the beginning of June, on the 62nd parallel, my minimum
thermometer fell during the night as low as 35° Fahrenheit, but rose by
9 o’clock to 75°. English winter clothing, therefore, by day was not
too warm. Again, at Vladivostock, lying on the 43rd parallel, the heat
towards the end of September was not too great for clothing suited to
an English summer. All through the journey, however, when sleeping in
the tarantass, it was sufficiently cold in the early morning, whatever
might be the heat of the day, to make an ulster coat acceptable.
The political divisions of the country are two vice-royalties, called
respectively Western and Eastern Siberia. Each of these is divided into
“governments” and “oblasts.”[1]
The means of communication in Siberia are more ample than a foreigner
might suppose. There are, indeed, no railways; but when the line, now
in course of construction, from Ekaterineburg to Tiumen is finished,
the English traveller will be able to go by steam from Charing Cross
to Tomsk, a distance of 5,000 miles, and further east than Ceylon.
As it is now, when Tiumen is reached, river communication becomes
possible with each of the four capitals of Western Siberia. Again,
the Amur presents a water passage inland from the Pacific, by which
Nikolaefsk, Blagovestchensk, and almost Chita, may be reached; and
now that Captain Wiggins has led the way through the Kara Gates, and
Professor Nordenskiöld has followed on to Behring’s Strait, Russia
may congratulate herself on having for the commerce of Siberia three
additional outlets--the Obi, the Yenesei, and the Lena--to both Europe
and Japan.
Again, there is the communication by roads, which is the more important
on account of the many months the rivers are frozen over. There are
two post roads by which Siberia is entered from the west; one through
Orenburg, which is little used, and the other through Ekaterineburg
to Tiumen. There is also a third road, not much used, which crosses
the Urals further north, and connects _Veliki Ustiug_, on the Northern
Dwina, with Irbit. The high road to China leaves Tiumen in an easterly
direction to Omsk, where the routes from Orenburg, Semipolatinsk, and
Central Asia converge. The main road goes east to Tomsk, where it is
joined by roads on the north from Narim, and on the south from Barnaul;
it then continues eastward to Krasnoiarsk, where it is joined by roads,
on the north from Yeneseisk, and on the south from Minusinsk. After
this it takes a south-easterly direction to Irkutsk, whence there go
two ways--one to the north-east, to Yakutsk, and so on to Kamchatka;
the other, and principal one, to the south-east and round the base of
Lake Baikal to Verchne Udinsk. Here it divides into two, that to the
right leading to Kiakhta and China; that to the left running east,
through Chita to Stretinsk. Thence the traveller proceeds on the
Shilka and Amur--by boat in summer, and on the ice in winter--past
Blagovestchensk to Khabarofka, whence, to the left, he continues on
the Amur to Nikolaefsk, or he turns to the right up the Ussuri and the
Sungacha to Vladivostock. Along all these roads there is postal and,
except towards Yakutsk, telegraphic communication also.
An ethnographical map of Siberia, coloured according to the area which
is occupied by its various nationalities, reveals the fact that only a
very small portion of the country is inhabited by Russians.[2] In fact,
a narrow strip of country suffices to show their _habitat_, if drawn
on either side of the great land and water highways, and somewhat
widened in the mining districts of the Yeneseisk and Tomsk governments;
and as the aborigines do not generally follow agriculture, it will
be inferred that those parts of the land which are under cultivation
lie within this narrow strip. The same observation will also indicate
that, whilst the language of the towns and the highways is Russian, a
knowledge of other tongues is needed for extensive intercourse with the
natives.
Having made these general remarks concerning Siberia, we proceed on our
journey from Tiumen to Tobolsk, _en route_ for Tomsk, which is best
reached in summer by river, steaming for 1,800 miles, the post road
from Tiumen to Tomsk passing through Omsk, or by a somewhat nearer way,
leaving Omsk to the south, and then crossing the Barabinsky steppe.
We arrived at Tiumen on Thursday, the 29th May, bringing with us two
loads of luggage, and leaving the rest to follow by “goods’” transport.
There was steam communication between Tiumen and Tobolsk twice a week,
the passage occupying a day and a half; but the steamer that went on to
Tomsk was to leave on the following Monday, by which time the remaining
luggage could not arrive. It became, therefore, a question whether
we should wait for it or go before, in the hope that, whilst we were
making _détours_, our books might overtake us. My Finnish friend, Miss
Alba Hellman, had sent me some pamphlets for distribution amongst a
colony of Finns and others from the Baltic provinces, numbering about
1,800, and located at Ruschkova, not far from the city of Omsk. We at
first thought, therefore, to make this _détour_, and then, instead of
returning to Tiumen, to go “across country” to Tobolsk, and thus see
the prisons, and wait for the next steamer but one, in which we hoped
all our luggage might be forwarded; but this plan our friends at Tiumen
condemned. The question then remained, How could we see Tobolsk? The
steamer in passing would stay but for an hour or two, and another boat
would not follow for a week. The only alternative was to drive. But
terrible accounts were given of the roads, which had not yet dried
after the breaking up of the frost. Not to see Tobolsk, however, was
out of the question, and we therefore determined to make the attempt by
road, hoping to reach the city on Saturday, see the prisons on Monday,
and take steamer the following day.
Accordingly, on Friday night, late, we left Tiumen in two tarantasses,
with three horses to each. At the first station the post-master gave
us warning that the roads were very bad, and that only one or two
travellers had passed that way since the waters had subsided. On coming
to the first river, it was found to be unapproachable at the usual
place of embarkation. A ferry-boat had, therefore, to be brought to us,
some six miles out of the way, and so we were kept waiting five hours.
Whilst thus delayed, report said that the post-master kept hardly half
the men required by his contract for working the ferry, and, further,
that the men were sometimes extortionate. When, therefore we had rowed
six miles down the stream to the landing-place, and the post-master
could give no satisfactory reason why we had been thus kept, we thought
it right, for the benefit of future travellers, to enter in his “book
for complaints,” bearing the Government seal, our regrets that his
neglect had detained us five hours.
About eleven o’clock the same night another episode occurred, which
illustrates the pleasures of spring travelling in Siberia. The
post-master gave us, what we never had before or after,--two outriders
to convey us over a bad place on the road. Towards midnight we slept,
when, being awakened by repeated shouting, I peeped out and saw that we
were plunging among willows and mire. The outriders were holding up the
tarantass to keep it from toppling over. Then came more shouting, with
desperate jerking and pulling of the horses, which were up to their
knees in bog, till solid ground was gained, and all stopped for breath.
The next thing was to get the luggage tarantass through. We heard in
the distance a crash, and lo! one of the shafts was broken. A horseman
went back to the village for a new one, but in vain, and the old one
was repaired. Whilst waiting we had time to look around. It was not yet
morning, but the rays of the sun, which in northern countries are seen
above the horizon all the night through at this time of the year, shed
sufficient light on our darkness to give a weird appearance to all that
was visible.
Silence was broken only by the incessant croaking of frogs, and by the
men, who were relating to each other how they had got through. One
had slipped into water up to his waist. The temperature was anything
but warm; but, poor fellows! they seemed to regard things as in their
normal condition, and uttered repeated thanks when they were dismissed
with a gratuity of a few extra kopecks. Further on we had to wade
through water above the axletrees, and during the last stage to cross
five streams, the last of which was the Irtish. Tobolsk at length was
reached, but not until Sunday night, and after a journey of forty-eight
hours instead of twenty, as we expected.
[Illustration: TATARS OF KASAN.]
By posting from Tiumen to Tobolsk, we purchased experience of early
summer roads; and, in so doing, saw things which I should be sorry to
have missed. Among these were several villages peopled exclusively by
Siberian Tatars. These people differ in one important respect from
most of the other nations living with the Russians in Siberia, in that
they have a history and can look back to great princes who have made a
name for themselves in the annals of the world. They are remnants of
those who, in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, in the days of
Genghis Khan and his descendants, overran Northern Asia, and wrested
the land from its aboriginal inhabitants. They pushed their conquests
to the Volga, and Serai, on that river, became the capital where their
great Khans (known as the Khans of the Golden Horde) lived and reigned,
and whence they long proved formidable antagonists to the Russians.
At length came their disruption. Kasan was founded in the fifteenth
century, and was the capital of a small khanate. A second khanate was
that of Astrakhan, a third that of Krim, a fourth that of Tiumen--all
fragments of the main horde which had collapsed in the fifteenth
century. Towards the close of the sixteenth century, the Russians took
from the Tatars Kasan and all else west of the Urals, and those on the
east of the mountains, in the region of the Irtish, were afterwards
subjugated by Yermak and his followers. Tatar villages may still be
found between Kasan and Tobolsk, beyond which these people inhabit a
district stretching south to the Kirghese hordes, and south-east as far
as the Altai Mountains, and so joining the territory west of Irkutsk
peopled by the Buriats.[3] The Tatars live among and are subject to
their Russian conquerors; but the two races do not blend--one race
being Christian, the other Mohammedan. The traveller is reminded of
this by noticing that the Tatars, when on a journey, carry with them
their wooden basins, for they will not drink from a vessel used by
Russians; and so, in some parts, Russians will not drink from Tatar
cups, though this exclusiveness wears away where Russians are many and
Tatars are few. The Tatars have a good physique: dark eyes, swarthy
skin, black hair, and high cheek-bones. Their strength of body is such
as to make them excellent workmen, as may be seen by the enormous
burdens they carry in loading vessels at Nijni Novgorod and Kasan.
They are much liked in the capitals as coachmen, for they understand
horses well. I heard good accounts of them likewise as servants in the
hotel at Petersburg. They are not drunken, and are therefore valuable
as waiters. Their women are supposed to wear veils, and do so in the
cities. In the villages they content themselves with shawls, which are
drawn nearly over the face when a stranger approaches. Men and boys,
whether in the house or abroad, wear a small skull-cap, sometimes
richly embroidered; and on high days some are seen with white turbans.
These and their long cassock-like coats give the men a decidedly
oriental appearance. Both men and women wear top-boots, and generally
goloshes over them, so that, on entering the house or the mosque, they
have only to slip off the goloshes to secure clean shoes.[4]
In the Tatar villages the green domes and pinnacles of the Russian
church, surmounted with the cross, were of course wanting; and in their
places were found Mohammedan mosques, with minarets surmounted with the
crescent. These latter reminded one of the shingled steeples of English
village churches. Our first sight of Tatar worship was on the Volga, on
board the steamer at sunset. Three Tatars approached the paddle-box,
on a clean part of which they spread a small carpet. Leaving their
goloshes on the deck, they knelt on the carpet, bowed their heads to
the ground, and, rubbing their hands as if washing, chanted their
prayers. They then appeared to pray silently in deepest reverence with
closed eyes, and as if in total oblivion that a crowd was looking on.
We were told that the pious pray thus at least three times a day,
wherever they may be. At Kasan we had an opportunity of seeing their
congregational worship in a Tatar mosque. Permission was given us to
enter, if at the bottom of the stairs we would take off our goloshes,
or, having none, our boots. The Mohammedan reason for this practice
seemed to be that they did not wish to bring into the place anything
soiled or unclean.
The building inside had a square room, with the barest of bare white
walls, without attempt at ornament of any sort or kind. The only piece
of furniture even was a high wooden rostrum approached by stairs, from
which exhortations are delivered on Fridays. There were no chairs or
benches, or any resemblance to an altar or table. Those who assembled
early sat on the ground with their legs beneath them, apparently for
private prayer, reading, and meditation; but upon some one beginning to
murmur in a low strain, all jumped up, ran to the front, and arranged
themselves in ranks. They commenced their prayers by placing the thumb
into or on the lower part of the ears, with the palms of the hands
outwards. Then they stood, bowed, knelt, and then lowered the head
to the ground. This is done a certain number of times, according to
the hour of the day, twice at early morning, and increasing till five
or more at the last of the five daily services. At the conclusion of
prayer they passed their hands over their faces. All these external
acts of devotion were done by each rank with the utmost precision,
and the histrionic effect, as some would call it, was excellent; only
that to one in the rear of four or five ranks of men, of each of whom
nothing could be seen but the soles of their feet and the seats of
their trousers, the spectacle was somewhat grotesque. In the less
demonstrative parts of the service, however, there was not an eye that
wandered, with the single exception of a man who bestowed a glance on
us strangers; nor a man who did not behave in a manner becoming the
occupation in which he was engaged. Some few who came in late did not
join those whose service had begun, but commenced a separate one for
themselves.
The floor was covered with clean matting, on which lay here and there a
common rosary made of date-stones, ninety-nine in number, and divided
by beads into three sections.
The Tatars objected to give us a translation in Russian of the prayers
they said thereon. We heard elsewhere that they have ninety-nine names
of God; and a Tatar prisoner--apparently a gentleman--told me that
they had a separate prayer for each bead. The uneducated, however, do
not know these many names of the Deity. On the following day we had
the opportunity of asking a monk concerning the Russian rosary, which
differs from both the Mohammedan and the Roman.[5]
The Tatars can read the Scriptures in Turkish, and are apparently
not indisposed to do so, provided it does not attract attention. A
colporteur at Moscow told me that he sold fifty-seven copies to Tatars
in the villages between Kasan and Perm, though they became angry in
the larger towns if he attempted openly to sell them in the Tatar
quarter. I took with me a few Turkish gospels, and among the prisoners
at Barnaul found three Tatars, one of whom could read. As we repassed
the door of their room, all three were seen sitting with their legs
beneath them, the two illiterate ones listening to their scholarly
friend with eager attention. We met several of this race in prison
and elsewhere, as we proceeded onwards, but I do not remember passing
through whole villages of Tatars after we left the district of Tobolsk.
Hence we were the more glad not to have missed these.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] I am not clearly informed as to the exact difference between a
government and an oblast, but I am under the impression that an oblast
(which means a “province”) is a territory often newly acquired and
under martial law, whereas, in a “government,” things have settled
down, and the civil and military organizations are under separate
control. The word “oblasts” is sometimes translated “territories”;
their relation to “governments” being similar to the relation between
“Territories” and “States” in America. The oblasts in Siberia are
Akmolinsk and Semipolatinsk in the west, and Yakutsk and the Sea Coast
in the east; but, to avoid confusion, we will speak of them all as
governments or provinces. Each province has its capital, which ranks as
a “government” town, and each _uyezd_ has likewise its principal town.
Each province is subdivided into districts, called _uyezds_; _uyezds_
into _vollosts_; and _vollosts_ into villages, called _selo_, if with
a church, or _derevnia_ if without. In the villages the chief man is
called a _starosta_; in the vollosts a _zasidatil_. Over each uyezd
commonly presides an ispravnik; over each province a governor; and over
each vice-royalty a governor-general. Western Siberia is divided into
four provinces, namely: Tobolsk, Tomsk, and Semipolatinsk, each of
which has a capital, bearing the name of the province; and Akmolinsk,
which has Omsk for its capital. Eastern Siberia is divided into six
provinces: Irkutsk and Yakutsk, with capitals of the same names; and
Yeneseisk, Trans-Baikal, Amur, and Sea Coast (or Maritime), with
capitals named Krasnoiarsk, Chita, Blagovestchensk, and Nikolaefsk.
[2] The total population, Russian and aboriginal, according to the
_Journal de St. Petersbourg_, August 7th, 1881, quoting the most
recent statistics, numbers 1,388,000 souls; but I am not sure whether
“souls” may not mean _males_ only, as it sometimes does in Russia. They
are divided among the provinces as follows: Tobolsk, 463,000; Tomsk,
324,000; Irkutsk, 165,000; Yeneseisk, 164,000; Trans-Baikal, 141,000;
Amur, 3,000; Sea Coast, 13,000; and Yakutsk, 112,000. This says nothing
of Akmolinsk and Semipolatinsk.
[3] Mr. Wahl, in his “Land of the Czar,” which contains much valuable
ethnographical information, gives the number of the Siberian Tatars
of the governments of Tobolsk and Tomsk at 40,000. Dr. Latham also,
in his “Native Races of the Russian Empire,” traces their affinities
with many peoples both in Europe and Asia, all of whom he classifies
under the general name of Turks, and points out that the area covered
by the Turkish stock is perhaps larger than that of any other race in
the world. The general name of Turks includes the Tatars of Kasan, of
Siberia, the Caucasus, and several other places; also the Kirghese,
Yakutes, and many smaller tribes, some of which will hereafter be
referred to under the respective provinces which they inhabit. The
Turkish stock are, as to their religion, Christians, Pagans, and
Mohammedans: Christians where they have been won over by the Russians
to the Greek Church; Pagans where they have not been reached even
by Mohammedanism, but have remained in the darkness of aboriginal
Shamanism, as is still the case with a few of the Yakute Turks; and
Mohammedans, which is the case for the most part with those of the
country through which we passed.
[4] The natural home of the Turk or the Tatar is the steppe, where
they dwell in tents, and are herdsmen, horsemen, and in some cases
camel-drivers. Those we passed gain their livelihood by agriculture,
by the breeding of cattle, and by the transport of goods. Their houses
were neat and cleanly, and compared favourably with those of the
Russians.
[5] The mention of all three invites a short study in “comparative
religions,” which may be briefly made as follows:--The complete Roman
rosary consists of 150 beads on a string, divided into 15 decades,
between each of which is a large or distinctive bead. Where the two
ends join there are 5 other beads attached, and at the loose end a
crucifix. It is used thus:--On the crucifix is repeated the Creed;
on the first bead the Lord’s Prayer; on each of the next three the
“Hail, Mary!” and on the fifth bead the Lord’s Prayer. This is by way
of introduction. Then on each of the first 10 beads are said these
words: “Hail, Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee! Blessed art
thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb,--Jesus. Holy
Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our
death. Amen.” When this has been said ten times, the “Pater Noster”
is said on the dividing bead, and this is continued till 150 prayers
have been offered to the Virgin, and 15 to “our Father,” and then the
odd beads are used in inverse order for a conclusion, as before for an
introduction.
The Russian rosary looks smaller, but has also certain beads larger,
or at least distinguishable from the others. It is not worn or used by
ordinary members of the Russian Church, but only by monks and nuns.
I was told by a nun at Moscow that they say on each bead, “May Jesus
Christ have mercy on sinners!” but a monk at Kasan said (what is not
irreconcilable with the former) that on each ordinary bead they say,
“Lord God of heaven and Jesus Christ, have mercy upon us”; and on the
large and distinctive bead they say a prayer either to Jesus Christ or
the Virgin, the latter beginning something to this effect: “Thou mighty
Mary, hear our prayers, and take away from thine unworthy servants all
sin,” etc. Lastly, we were told that the Mohammedan continues to say on
his rosary, “There is but one God, and Mohammed is His prophet”; and
that if they do not know the ninety-nine names of God they merely count
the beads.