_FROM KIAKHTA TO CHITA._
Farewell ceremonies.--Writing home of changed plans.--Caravans.--An
iron foundry.--Buriat yemstchiks.--Methods of
driving.--Salutations.--Insignificant post-stations.--Visit to
a missionary to the Buriats.--Russian missions in Japan.--A
remarkable meeting.--The Yablonoi mountains.--Chita.--Visit to the
Governor and prison.
We had determined, after dining at Maimatchin, to continue our journey
eastwards. Mr. Koecher, however, would not let us go without giving
us a supplementary dinner; for the Chinese spread is looked upon as a
matter of curiosity rather than of genuine gastronomy, and we did not
expect to get another respectable meal for many hundreds of miles.
After this supplementary dinner, therefore, we prepared to start. The
hospitality and kindness of the Siberians to departing friends is
unbounded; and, among other customs, they have one method of doing
honour to a guest at a feast which is considered a mark of great
respect. It is called the _podkeedovate_, and is done by seizing the
unfortunate victim and laying him flat on the extended and clasped
hands of two rows of guests, who toss him up and catch him. When Mr.
Collins, their first American visitor, was at Kiakhta, they tossed him
up in this manner to the ceiling, which he touched, palpably. In our
own case, happily, we were spared this honour, and were dismissed with
the repeated shakings of the hand of which the Russians are so fond;
provided, however, it be not over the threshold. Twice I found myself
transgressing in this respect--once to an American, who had become
half Russianized, and once to a Russian lady. Both of them smiled, and
asked me to come right in before shaking hands. What superstition they
have upon the subject I know not. Another Russian custom with departing
friends is to drive alongside for a few miles, perhaps to the first
post-station, and then take a last farewell. This our host did when we
left Kiakhta on the evening of Wednesday, the 16th July, and we were
then fairly started for a drive of 600 miles. We passed along the road
by which we came as far as Verchne Udinsk, or, as I have called it,
“the Amur and China junction.” Here we took the opportunity to post
letters to England, to say that to return from hence would be to leave
my work half done, and that we were going on to the Amur, from which
Mr. Interpreter was to turn back, whilst I was to continue to the
Pacific, and so reach home by completing the circle of the globe; and
as I thought to finish the journey in person sooner than a letter would
cross Asia and Europe, and I did not know what holes and corners I
might get into, or how be detained, my friends were exhorted not to be
alarmed if they heard nothing of me for many days. And the exhortation
was needed, for I subsequently got into two places from which I could
not stir, nor well communicate my whereabouts, so that, notwithstanding
my warning, serious and anxious doubts were entertained for my safety.
Whilst travelling eastwards we had frequently met caravans of carts
carrying tea. These caravans sometimes reach to upwards of 100 horses;
and, as they go at walking pace, and when they come to a river are
taken over by ferry, it is not matter for surprise that merchandise
should be three months in coming from Irkutsk to Moscow. In winter the
rivers, of course, present no difficulty, and hence this season is on
some accounts preferred for transport. The number of drivers required
for a large convoy is not numerous, and they lighten their work by
hanging a bundle of hay on the hinder part of every cart, so that a
horse, if hungry, takes good care to keep up with his leader. As we
proceeded, from Verchne Udinsk we met trains of two-wheeled carts with
manufactured iron.[1] There was one driver to every four or five carts,
and this driver had a dormitory on one of his loads, consisting of a
rude frame, two-and-a-half by six feet, with a covering of birch-bark,
and under this, clad in a sheepskin coat, a man contrives to sleep for
many an hour of the night and day. They usually travel about 16 hours
(though not at a stretch) out of the 24, and in the summer graze their
horses at the side of the road.
We had now left the great highway between China and Europe, and of this
we were sternly reminded by the amount of shaking to which we were
forced to submit. Also we were introduced to a new set of yemstchiks;
for most of our drivers now were Buriats, who tie up their horse’s
mane like a horn between his ears, and who, like the Russians, have a
wonderful knack of sending their horses along without harassing them,
the driving being done by the voice and by threatening with the hand.
Whip-cracking is unheard in Siberia, and the long, slender, snapping
whips of Western Europe are unknown. The Siberian uses a short stock
with a lash of hemp, leather, or other flexible substance, but having
no snapper at its end. The Russian drivers talk a great deal to their
horses, and the speech they use depends much upon the character and
performance of the animals. Do they travel well? Then the driver calls
them his “brothers,” his “doves,” his “beauties,” his “jewels.” On the
contrary, an obstinate or lazy horse is called a variety of names the
reverse of endearing. He may be called a _sabaka_, or dog, and his
maternity disrespectfully ascribed to the race canine. Sometimes the
driver rattles off his words as if the creatures understood all the
praise he is giving them, after which, on proper occasion, he storms
at and scolds them as the veriest hags and jades he ever drove. But
I do not remember that this fashion of talking to the horses was so
observable among the Buriats, though they drove exceedingly well.
These people have a curious method of salutation, as have several of
the peoples with whom we were brought in contact. The Chinese, for
instance, fold the hands together, and raise them up and down several
times. The Mongols hold up their thumb to salute, and to clench a
bargain one places his hand on the sleeve of the other. The Buriats do
much the same, whilst the Russians shake hands for everything, and if
they are friends they also kiss.
As we drove along we saw abundance of black and white jackdaws; small
birds, like a cross between a canary and a linnet; and, on the distant
hills, flocks of sheep. Further south, I have been told, herds of
camels are reared, for the sake of their wool, which in these parts
grows to a considerable length. The post-stations we passed were
far apart and poor, and the villages few. In these last live many
Buriats, some Russians, and a few Jews. In one village we saw some very
good-looking Jewish women, whom I saluted with a word or two of Hebrew.
This, and the showing of our podorojna that we were English, attracted
attention to us as strangers. Not long before, some Chinese ambassadors
had passed the same way; and one yemstchik, hearing that we were
foreigners, thought we too must be ambassadors, and inquired whether he
should go and put on his best suit, from which, however, we excused him.
On the evening of the second day after leaving Verchne Udinsk, we
reached Koordinska, where lives a Russian priest who is a missionary
to the Buriats, and upon whom I wished to call, though, as it was
getting towards midnight, I feared we might find the good man in
bed. But it was “now or never,” and I therefore persisted in going
to the house, notwithstanding the Buriat yemstchik’s remonstrances,
which I afterwards thought, may have proceeded from the fear that he
should be bewitched, or in some way influenced by the missionary,
for I could not get him to stop his horses within many yards of the
house. The missionary did not appear at first particularly amiable on
being visited at such an unusual hour; but, when he found that we had
good books to give him, he began to change his demeanour, and readily
imparted to us information respecting the progress of the mission,
telling us that during the previous year 300 Buriats had been baptized
east of the Baikal, and more than 1,000 on the west. He showed us,
however, that he had already a sufficiency of the Buriat Scriptures--of
the same edition, in fact, as those we were distributing--and he did
not care to accept more, which rather led me to surmise, what was
afterwards confirmed, that the amount of knowledge required by the
Russian priests of their converts before baptism is very slender. I
do not know either how far they press upon the Buriats the study of
the Scriptures, or whether the Buriats are averse to the book. The
old man at Selenginsk, Ivlampi Melnikoff, told us that many copies of
the Scriptures were left in the hands of his father when the English
missionaries took their departure, and that the Buriats would not
receive them. They were therefore handed over to a Russian priest; but
he was speaking of things as they were forty years ago.
When our missionary friend found that we were really interested in
his work, he pressed us, notwithstanding the lateness of the hour, to
drink tea; but this we declined, as we could not keep the post-horses
standing. He was very eager to tell us, before we went, that the
Russians were carrying on a successful mission to the Japanese (the
liturgy being sung in Russian style in the vernacular), under the
directorship of the Archimandrite Nicolai; and the missionary,
dwelling in the Buriat wilderness, was considerably perturbed because
someone in Japan had been writing a book, attempting to show that
Confucius was greater than Jesus Christ; and as I said that I expected
to pass through Japan, he begged that I would get a copy of the life of
Confucius, and consult with the Archimandrite how the heretical book
might be extinguished. This was the first I heard of the Archimandrite,
but, on reaching Nikolaefsk, I found him exceedingly well spoken of by
a Lieutenant Yakimoff, who gave me a letter to him to deliver on my
arrival in Japan.[2] Accordingly I hoped to see the said Archimandrite
Nicolai, but, before I reached Yokohama, he had returned home to be
consecrated bishop. I therefore thought no more of the matter till
last autumn, when my hopes were singularly and unexpectedly fulfilled,
whilst staying at Kieff on my way to the Caucasus. My companion and I
were trying to find someone in the Pechersky monastery who could speak
English or French. At last appeared with the monks a tall man in a
cassock, dressed like the others, save that his cassock was brown. He
said he could speak English, and, after having taken us round to see
the sights, he inquired of me where I was labouring in England, or, as
he put it, “where I was in service.” I told him, and then asked where
_he_ was “in service.” “Oh,” said he, “very far off.” “Well,” I said,
“where?” “In Japan,” he replied. “Then,” said I, “you must be the
Father Nicolai, to whom I had a letter last year from Siberia, and who
has lately been consecrated bishop.” And so it turned out, and thus we
had casually fallen in each other’s way, thousands of miles from the
place of our expected meeting. I dined with him, and we then parted,
he to continue his return journey to Japan, whilst I pushed forward to
Mount Ararat.
All this, however, was in the unknown future when we were talking to
the Russian missionary at Koordinska, who regretted that our visit
was so short, and whom we left to continue our journey all night to
Chita. In doing so we traversed hilly roads, and on the following day
had some extended views as we approached the _Yablonoi_, or Apple-tree
Mountains. This range runs in a north-easterly direction, right through
the Za-Baikal province; and when, after gradually rising from Verchne
Udinsk, which is 1,500 feet, we reached the summit of the range, 4,000
feet above the sea, we were then about 20 miles from Chita. Before us
a well-defined range of mountains bounded the horizon to the east,
while to the north and south the valley stretched away for miles. We
had a fine morning for the descent, and bounding along over a rolling
prairie, where herds of cattle were grazing, had a beautiful view
as we approached the town. Moreover, we were at last on the eastern
side of the great Altai chain, and consequently the rivers before us
differed from all that we had yet seen in Siberia. All the others had
been flowing northwards to be emptied into the Arctic Ocean, whereas in
the river Chita, from the left, joining the Ingoda from the right, the
current was flowing eastward, through a delightful valley, to find its
way, 2,000 miles off, into the Pacific. We had before us now, in fact,
one of the valleys of the head waters of the Amur, of which valley
Baron Rosen says that it is remarkable for its flora, and is called the
“garden of Siberia.”
Chita stands on the left bank of the Ingoda on a height, bounded on two
sides by lofty mountains. To the north lies Lake Onon, on whose shores
Genghis Khan, as he marched westwards, held his court of justice, and
in whose waters he drowned the condemned. Below this point the Ingoda
is navigable for boats and rafts. During the early years of the Amur
occupation, much material was floated down from Chita. The town was
founded in 1851, when it had a population of 2,600; now it has 3,000.
Many of the houses are large and well fitted, and all are of wood.
We found shops, at which, however, we had to pay 1_s._ a pound for
loaf-sugar, and white bread cost just three times what we had paid for
it at Tobolsk.
The Governor’s house was the best in the place, and there we presented
our letters. His Excellency, M. Pedashenko, gave us a kind reception.
I had met on the road, at a post-station, the father of Madame
Pedashenko, and he had given me an introduction to his daughter; but
Madame was unwell. The Governor, however, spared no pains to do for us
all he could. On learning that I wished to visit the penal colony and
gold-mines of Kara, he telegraphed that arrangements might be made for
my being conveyed thither; and after this we proceeded to inspect the
prison in the town. Outside the building was a black cart, which might
be placed in a similar category with our old-fashioned English stocks.
Formerly prisoners were taken in this cart to the market-place, and
there exposed as outlaws and felons--their accusation being carried on
the breast, and a notification attached that they had “lost all their
rights.” This punishment was said to be abolished now, but I heard of
its having been used at Blagovestchensk as lately as the previous year.
The prison at Chita contained 169 prisoners, and cannot, I suppose,
be that in which the 30 Decembrists were confined in 1826; for Baron
Rosen speaks of Chita in his day as a little village of 300 people. At
the time of our visit, they were expecting a new place of confinement
to be built--not a day before it was wanted; for the Chita prison was
apparently the oldest, and I thought it the poorest and dirtiest, we
had seen. The prisoners, too, were shabbily clad, and dirty. One of
them was reading a religious book lent him, I think he said, by the
priest; but there was no prison library. Indeed, it was very rare to
find one, though at Ekaterineburg we were told that a prisoner who
wished to read might have a prayer-book. Several of the Chita prisoners
were from Russia, and condemned to hard labour. There was a carpenters’
shop, in which some were forced to work, and others did so for their
own pleasure. Speaking generally, those in the building appeared to be
enjoying an easy time; for the doors of the wards were open to allow
their going in and out of the yard as they chose, and many were lying
about sleeping in the sun. We were told that they found it difficult
to sleep at night by reason of vermin, and so were sleeping instead by
day. This illustrates a remark of Goryantchikoff in “Buried Alive,” to
the effect that his prison was never free from fleas even in winter,
and that in summer they increased. In the prison kitchen we saw them
cutting up rhubarb leaves to put in the soup (fresh cabbage not being
ready at the time of our visit), which reminds me of another remark of
Goryantchikoff, who writes as if it were a normal thing with him to
have black-beetles swimming in his soup. His remark about fleas I can
readily believe; but by “black-beetles” I presume he refers to little
brown insects, about half an inch long, called “_Tarakans_,” which
swarm in the houses of the Siberian peasants. Happily, however, they
are non-belligerent, and I was told by an Englishman that the people
are not averse to them. Why they should daily walk into the copper
to be boiled in Mr. Goryantchikoff’s soup, I know not; but one thing
about prison soup I do know, that, in the irregular, uncomfortable (I
was going to say half-starved) condition in which I have sometimes
travelled in certain parts of Russia, I have more than once tasted
prison soup, of which, but for appearance sake, I would fain have
eaten, not a mere spoonful to give my opinion thereon, but a plateful
to satisfy my appetite. I should not have chosen that, however,
seasoned with rhubarb leaves.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] It is not unlikely that the iron here alluded to had come from
Petrovsky Zavod, which is about 100 miles south-east of Verchne
Udinsk. These ironworks were established during the reign of Peter
the Great, and at one time were worked by convicts; but, so far as
they are in activity now, free labour, I believe, is employed. This
Zavod was formerly of importance to the locality. The engines for the
first steamers that Russia placed on the Amur were made here. Guns,
also, have been cast and bored by Russian workmen. There is plenty of
coal, too, in the neighbourhood, but it is not much used, as wood is
plentiful. I heard very little of the operations carried on at present,
but it seems that in the whole Trans-Baikal province there were
produced, in 1877, of cast iron 482 tons and of wrought iron 280 tons.
Thirty years ago, Petrovski wrought 18 tons of bar iron annually.
[2] On my voyage I gathered from a Russian captain that there were
in Japan 7 priests, 95 catechists, and 2,000 members, all of whom,
not excepting even the priests, were converts to the orthodox Russian
Church. In 1876, £1,174 were spent on this mission, which is the only
Pagan mission, as far as I know, that the Russians have in foreign
parts; and they think their Japanese work a great success, for in the
_Oriental Church Magazine_ for March 1880, the Russian editor says: “In
1879 the (Russian) Church in Japan numbered a total of 6,000 members,
an increase of 2,000 having taken place during one year”; and he adds,
“Though the other Christian Churches control over 320 missionaries,
and have in their possession enormous pecuniary means, still our
(Russian) missionaries have succeeded in gaining full and exclusive
control over the northern part of the island of Nipouna, and compete
most successfully with their Roman Catholic and Protestant brethren
in the central part of the island.” “This brilliant success is mainly
attributable to the chief of our Japanese mission, Father Nicolai.”