_FROM NERTCHINSK TO STRETINSK._
Nertchinsk.--Its climate and history.--Scene of a Russo-Chinese
treaty.--Appearance of the town.--Visits to authorities.--Dinner
with a rich merchant.--Siberian table customs.--Poverty
of travelling fare.--Fine arts in Siberia.--Painting and
photography.--Journey from Nertchinsk.
Before passing from Nertchinsk, a few words should be said respecting
its history, and as at Nertchinsky Zavod, 2,230 feet above the sea,
there is a meteorological observatory--its climate, also. Mr. Atkinson
writes: “The climate is not so horrible as many have supposed, nor is
the earth a perpetual mass of ice at a few feet below the surface,
as I have seen it stated. The summers are not so long as in Europe,
but they are very hot, and the country produces a magnificent flora.
Both agriculture and horticulture are carried on successfully,
and vegetables of almost every kind can be grown here. Tobacco is
extensively cultivated, for which the people find a sale among the
Buriats and Tunguses.”
Again, Baron Rosen, speaking of Chita, which is on the same parallel
and within 200 miles of Nertchinsk, says: “The high situation of Chita
considerably increases the cold in winter, but it is healthy, with a
fresh bracing climate. The sky is almost always clear, excepting in
August, when the thunder is incessant for days together, and then
follows a shower, beginning with enormously large single drops, which
in a few hours floods all the roads; for the water falls rapidly down
the slopes, digging deep trenches as it runs. The great electricity
of the air is remarkable: the slightest movement of cloth or wool
produces sparks or crackling. The rapidity of the vegetation is most
extraordinary; for both corn and vegetables ripen within the five weeks
in which the frosts cease, _i.e._, from the middle of June to the end
of July. One of my comrades first introduced the growing of cucumbers
in the open air, and melons in hot-beds.” And the Baron afterwards
adds: “When I was chosen senior of the prison, I salted down in brandy
casks 60,000 cucumbers out of our garden.” Whether the Baron is
accurate in speaking of five weeks only during which there is no frost,
seems doubtful. I observe in the meteorological report from Nertchinsky
Zavod, that in 1877 the lowest temperature was, in June, 36°·8; in
July, 47°·8; and in August, 41°. If, therefore, frost occurred in these
months, it must have been ground-frost caused by radiation; which
would not affect the crops. The lowest temperature of the year, which
occurred in January, was 45°·5 below zero; the highest temperature,
95°·3, occurring in August.
It should be observed that the Trans-Baikal province has a climate
almost peculiar to itself. From the north, the Polar Sea, immense
tracts of swamp, lakes, and rivers supply the atmosphere with moisture,
a great deal of which is precipitated, in passing southwards, over a
region more than 1,000 miles in breadth; and as the clouds approach the
Altai, in process of elevating themselves to pass the mountains, they
part with their last drops, which fall along the northern, southern,
and eastern sides of the range. But this happens, of course, only when
the prevailing winds are from the north. Upon the south there are few
lakes or rivers; while the land in general is dry, and remote from
the sea. The winter clouds from the Indian Ocean in the south, and
the Caspian on the west, discharging themselves upon the mountains of
Thibet and Bucharia, rarely pass the desert of Gobi. Accordingly, the
winds blowing so regularly from this direction bring no water; and
thus, rain clouds coming for the most part from the Pacific only, it
comes to pass that the fall of rain and snow about Chita and Nertchinsk
is exceedingly small, and the winter passenger, for lack of snow upon
which to drive, has frequently in this region to mount his sledge on
wheels.[1] As summer travellers, however, we had no difficulties of
this kind, and the absence of rain we regarded as a blessing. The
weather was delightful, and I was looking forward, after passing a few
more stations, to bid farewell to tarantass and horses, and by steamer
to descend the Amur.
The town of Nertchinsk is one of the oldest in Eastern Siberia, having
been founded in 1658. After about 10 years it began to rise into a
place of importance, and 20 years later was the birthplace of a famous
treaty between the Russians and the Chinese.[2]
The question in dispute was the boundary of the two empires; the
Russians first proposing, and the Chinese refusing, that the Amur
should be the boundary; after which the Chinese proposed, and the
Russians refused, that Albazin, Nertchinsk, and Selenginsk should
be surrendered. After several conferences neither party showed a
disposition to yield, and both prepared for battle; but this was
averted, and a treaty was at length drawn up fixing the boundary
between the empires, but by no means in accordance with Russian wishes,
for they were completely shut out from the Amur.
After this, Nertchinsk remained for a long time the most easterly of
the large towns in the Trans-Baikal region. The discovery of metals in
the surrounding mountains increased its importance, and the continued
arrival there of exiles, and the stories connected with them, caused
the place to be only too well known--at least by name--throughout the
empire.
The town is charmingly situated, 1,845 feet above the sea. The
surrounding country is picturesque, and the soil rich. Hill, valley,
river, mountain, all combine to make it an interesting spot, apart
from its legendary and historic associations. Mr. Knox entered the
town from the east, and speaks of the view as especially pleasing,
because it was the first Russian town where he saw evidences of age
and wealth. The domes of its churches glistened in the sunlight that
had broken through the fog and warmed the tints of the whole picture!
It struck me, however, very differently. The natural beauties of the
place, of course, one could not but admire, but I had left behind the
handsome cities of European Russia, and had passed through many cleanly
and newly-built towns in Siberia, in comparison with which Nertchinsk
struck me as being black with age and decay. There was a woebegone look
about the place, and the streets seemed deplorably neglected. Many of
the houses were falling to pieces, and gave the town a most untidy
appearance.
We reached Nertchinsk on Wednesday morning, July 23rd, and made it our
first business to seek the Ispravnik, from whom I wished to get general
information respecting prisons and mines, and permission, perhaps, to
visit some of them within reasonable distance, though I hardly hoped
to see the great mines, as I knew they were more than 100 miles away
from the town, and if I attempted to reach them I should either miss
the penal colony of Kara, or lose the steamer which was shortly to
leave Stretinsk. We had thought it just possible, moreover, that the
Ispravnik might provide some one who could speak English, French, or
German, to accompany me to Stretinsk, and thus leave my interpreter
free to return.
Nertchinsk formerly stood at the junction of the Nertcha, which flows
from the north, and the Shilka. The repeated damage to the houses from
floods caused its removal, though even on its present site the lower
part of the town has been more than once under water. It was to this
lower part we drove in search of the authorities, but the Ispravnik was
away “in the country,” and his representative was asleep.
We went next to present a letter of introduction to Mr. Bootyn, of whom
we had heard at the Alexandreffsky Central Prison, and subsequently
at Irkutsk. On approaching his house, it proved to be not only the
most remarkable in the town, but, I might add, the grandest we had
seen in Siberia. The houses of Nertchinsk have already been alluded
to as old, black, and rotten; but Mr. Bootyn is a merchant, miner,
and millionaire, who has been to England and round the world, and
he was building himself a house, in the construction of which were
manifest sundry foreign ideas. It was a huge erection, part of which
was executed in Byzantine and castellated styles; and the establishment
comprised dwelling-houses, gardens, conservatories, and shops--all
in one. The Mr. Bootyn to whom our letter was addressed was from
home, but we were received by his brother, and invited to dine in the
verandah conservatory.
This gave us an insight into the social habits of another class of
Russians, and I was now beginning to know pretty well what to expect
when invited by a Siberian to dinner. Their hospitality is unbounded,
though, of course, its manifestation differs according to the means
of the host. Our first dinner in Siberia was at a merchant’s house,
where brother-merchants in travelling put up, and hence it was called
a hotel. We were asked if we would have our dinner in our own room,
or _en famille_. I was rash enough to choose the latter, and we
found ourselves seated at the table with mine host and a queer lot
of male guests (there were no females), who appeared to be clerks
or fellow-lodgers. We were first requested to help ourselves from a
tureen, in the centre of the table, to _stchee_, or soup, on the top
of which the fat floated like oil; and for the next course we had
bones of veal, followed by game and sour berries. Our fellow-guests
ate ravenously, tearing the bones to pieces with their teeth. Nothing
was placed on the table to drink, but towards the close of the meal
a glass of milk, as is common in Western Siberia, was given to each.
The foregoing represents, I should think, the dinner of the well-to-do
Siberian tradesman. There is nothing like display, and things are
sometimes served in a rough fashion. If any one wishes to be brushed
clean of over-fastidiousness in the arrangements of the table, I can
conscientiously recommend a tour across Siberia. In one house where
I was entertained--and entertained most kindly--the fish was brought
in in the frying-pan, and thus placed in the middle of the table,
which, if it did not minister to the delights of the eye, gave us food
admirably hot. On one occasion we dined with a teacher of languages in
a classical school, and he gave us stchee, roast meat with sour wild
cherries, then preserved maroshka berries and pudding. We dined in a
similar fashion with a medical doctor, but fared more sumptuously in
the house of a gold-seeker, where salt-spoons reminded us of England.
At Nertchinsk we had fallen on pleasant places. The number of plants
and flowers (I had almost said shrubs) on the table went far to hide
the guests from one another, but there was abundance of excellent
food. Had we been bibbers of wine, there was no lack of the choicest
vintages; but, upon our declining alcohol, we were offered some
excellent cherry syrup, which, in so remote a region, was a great
luxury. Further east, I was invited to dinner by the acting governor
of a town, where the first course was provided, they said, for my
special benefit. It was a salmon pie. Fish pie is a grand dish with
peasants, and their betters too, throughout Russia. If well prepared
it is excellent. The crust is not made with butter, but with yeast, as
it is commonly eaten in Lent, when butter is forbidden. I dined most
sumptuously, however, in Siberia, at Vladivostock, with the officers
of a Russian man-of-war, at the house of the Governor. Here everything
was served with the elegance and refinement of an English mansion; and
the customs observed were much the same, except that the hostess (in
the absence of her husband, the Governor) gave a toast standing, and
left her seat to come round and do the honours by touching glasses
with several of her guests. Thus I saw something of the table customs
of nearly all classes. Grace was sung before meals in the house of
a devoutly orthodox general in Petersburg, and now and then I saw a
peasant, before or after a meal, turn to the ikon and cross himself;
but grace before meat did not appear to obtain as a custom in Siberia.
I partook, too, of all sorts of Siberian food, from sumptuous dinners
down to what was often very humble fare indeed. I think the _best_
dinner we got at a post-station consisted of chicken soup, then the
newly-killed chicken that made it, and pancakes. This, perhaps, was
due in part to our not usually caring to wait until a meal could be
cooked, and we could not always eat what the post-people had prepared
for themselves, even when it was ready. Our provision basket, however,
supplied us with a few relishes to bread and butter, and thus we made
shift from town to town. I never travelled with anything like such
bodily fatigue as during the drive across Siberia; and never, that I
can remember, ate so little animal food during a corresponding period
of time; but I have no hesitation in saying that my health was better
after the journey than before it.
Before we left Mr. Bootyn’s, we were shown some of the best rooms in
the house, elegantly furnished. In one of them was a fair collection of
European paintings, some of which I recognized as Swiss scenes. I do
not remember seeing any other paintings in Siberia worth naming, nor do
I remember being shown any statuary. Both would, of course, be carried
safely with difficulty over such immense distances and such uneven
roads.
The Siberians are, however, by no means behind in photography. When
preparing for my tour, I had serious thoughts of taking with me a
camera and dry plates, thinking thereby to secure some novel pictures,
to the surprise, perhaps, of the people. It proved well that I
attempted nothing of the kind, for much trouble was thereby saved to
me, and instead of my astonishing the natives, I found that the natives
astonished me. I visited parts of Siberia of which no English author
has written, but discovered that photography had everywhere preceded
me; and though there were many villages in which we could not procure
white bread, there were few towns in which the same could be said of
photographs.[3]
In Siberia, some of the photographers are Polish exiles; some are
Germans; one I met was a Frenchman, and another a Finn. Their
landscapes are not particularly good, and their productions are
dear. Landscapes of the size of views which may be purchased in Rome
for sixpence cost in Siberia at least six shillings; and when, at
Krasnoiarsk, our party went to be photographed, we paid for cabinet
groups at the rate of sixteen shillings the half-dozen copies. It
should be remembered, however, that the demand is limited.
After taking leave of Mr. Bootyn, we prepared for a journey of 150
miles, which was to bring us to Stretinsk. The upper town of Nertchinsk
is built at the end of a long sweeping prairie, exposed to all the
winds that blow up through the valley, or down from the cold summits
of the Yablonoi Mountains. We came towards night to a solitary house
in the midst of the steppe, the poorest station we had seen. The outer
roof was off, and the building divided into two compartments--one for
travellers and the other for horses--the one being not much better
than the other; whilst on the opposite side of the road was the only
building in sight--a roofless shed. The only food to be obtained was
black bread, salt, and water, and in this place it looked at first as
if we should be compelled to stay; for they had not six--that is, two
“pairs” of--horses; they had four; and I suggested that the difficulty
should be overcome by putting two horses to each vehicle. But this they
said was illegal, because their four horses would make only one “pair,”
and these they were willing to attach to our tarantass, if we would
pile on the rest of our boxes before and behind. By what mathematical
process they explained this reasoning about pairs I have never yet
fathomed, but we were only too thankful to get on at any price, and
early next morning we drove into Stretinsk.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] The following table gives for 1875 the number of days of rain and
snow, the mean temperature of winter, spring, summer, autumn, and the
whole year, and the difference between the mean temperatures of summer
and winter, for London and four Siberian towns:--
| WINTER. | SPRING. | SUMMER. | AUTUMN. | YEAR. |Diff.
|Days Temp.|Days Temp.|Days Temp.|Days Temp.|Days Temp.|betw.
Nikolaefsk| 28 1·27 | 36 25·70| 28 59·05| 39 32·23|131 29·56|57·78
Barnaul | 22 6·60 | 26 42·93| 30 61·83| 30 29·10|108 35·11|55·23
Irkutsk | 10 -1·27 | 17 2·14| 25 61·54| 11 30·65| 63 23·27|62·81
Nertchinsk| 5 -1·40 | 17 2·81| 26 60·70| 12 24·90| 60 21·75|62·10
London | 47 40·0 | 34 53·70| 42 60·40| 44 43·50|167 49·40|20·40
The precipitation (rain and snow) in inches stands as follows at
Barnaul, Nertchinsk, and London:--
| Inches. | Inches. | Inches. | Inches. | Inches.
Barnaul | 0·92 | 1·77 | 6·39 | 2·93 | 12·01
Nertchinsk | 0·75 | 0·60 | 8·77 | 7·42 | 17·54
London | 4·76 | 5·13 | 9·94 | 8·21 | 28·04
[2] Mr. Ravenstein gives an interesting account of this. The two
nations were represented by the envoy extraordinary Fedor Alexevitch
Golovin, and the celestial ambassadors So-fan-lan-ya and Kiw-Kijew,
with two Jesuit fathers as interpreters. The Russian envoy was
accompanied by a regiment of Regular Militia (Strelzi) 1,500 strong,
and two regiments raised in Siberia; but the Chinese ambassadors were
accompanied by a force of 9,000 or 10,000 persons, consisting of
soldiers, mandarins, servants, and camp followers. They had from 3,000
to 4,000 camels, and at least 15,000 horses; and as they came to the
river’s bank opposite Nertchinsk, before the arrival of the Russian
envoy, the Governor of the town not unnaturally felt uneasy at the
presence of so large a company.
At length, however, Golovin arrived, and a large tent was pitched,
midway between the fortress and the river, one-half appropriated to the
Russians, the other to the Chinese. The Russian portion was covered
with a handsome Turkey carpet. Golovin and the Governor of Nertchinsk
occupied arm-chairs, placed behind a table, which was spread with a
Persian silk embroidered in gold. The Chinese portion was devoid of
all ornament. The chiefs of the embassy, seven in number, sat upon
pillows placed upon a low bench. The remainder of the mandarins and
Russian officers were ranged along both sides of the tent. The Chinese
had crossed the river with 40 mandarins and 760 soldiers, 500 of whom
remained on the bank of the river, and 260 advanced half-way to the
tent. In a similar manner, 500 Russians were placed close to the fort,
and 40 officers and 260 soldiers followed the envoy.
[3] It is interesting to know that in certain departments of
photography, Russia stands well to the front. In theoretical,
scientific, and landscape photography, I am informed England takes
place in the foremost rank; but in portrait photography, Russia is
before us. Among first-class photographic artists in Petersburg, the
names might be mentioned of Levitzky, Bergamasco, and Dinier; and in
Moscow that of Eichenwald; but the most remarkable photographer in all
Russia, probably, is one Karelin, at Nijni Novgorod. A small view of
Kasan, which I purchased in the city of that name, and which is printed
by the phototype process, seemed to indicate that this branch of the
art had extended more widely, and made further progress eastward, than
might have been expected at the time of my visit. There are to be
had in Petersburg and Moscow some magnificent photographic panoramas
of the two capitals; and in descending the Urals, on the Asiatic
side, I procured what can rarely be had elsewhere--a photograph of a
surface iron-mine; whilst further east was added one of a gold-mine. A
photographic view of Ekaterineburg, given me there, shows how thin and
light is the air in Russia, for purposes of photography, as compared
with ours in England.