SIBERIA--FUR-TRADE AND GOLD-DIGGINGS.
Siberia.--Its immense Extent and Capabilities.--The Exiles.--
Mentschikoff.--Dolgorouky.--Münich.--The Criminals.--The free
Siberian Peasant.--Extremes of Heat and Cold.--Fur-bearing
Animals.--The Sable.--The Ermine.--The Siberian Weasel.--The
Sea-otter.--The black Fox.--The Lynx.--The Squirrel.--The
varying Hare.--The Suslik.--Importance of the Fur-trade for the
Northern Provinces of the Russian Empire.--The Gold-diggings
of Eastern Siberia.--The Taiga.--Expenses and Difficulties of
searching Expeditions.--Costs of Produce, and enormous Profits of
successful Speculators.--Their senseless Extravagance.--First
Discovery of Gold in the Ural Mountains.--Jakowlew and Demidow.--
Nishne-Tagilsk.
Siberia is at least thirty times more extensive than Great Britain
and Ireland, but its scanty population forms a miserable contrast to
its enormous size. Containing scarcely three millions of inhabitants,
it is comparatively three hundred times less peopled than the
British Islands. This small population is, moreover, very unequally
distributed, consisting chiefly of Russians and Tartars, who have
settled in the south or in the milder west, along the rivers and the
principal thoroughfares which lead from the territory of one large
stream to the other. In the northern and eastern districts, as far
as they are occupied, the settlements are likewise almost entirely
confined to the river-banks; and thus the greater part of the enormous
forest-lands, and of the interminable tundras, are either entirely
uninhabited by man, or visited only by the huntsman, the gold-digger,
or the migratory savage.
And yet Siberia has not been so niggardly treated by Nature as not to
be able to sustain a far more considerable population. In the south
there are thousands of square miles fit for cultivation; the numbers
of the herds and flocks might be increased a hundred-fold, and even
the climate would become milder after the labor of man had subdued
the chilling influences of the forest and the swamp. But it is easier
to express than to realize the wish to see Siberia more populous,
for its reputation is hardly such as to tempt the free colonists to
settle within its limits; and thus the Russian Government, which would
willingly see its more temperate regions covered with flourishing towns
and villages, can only expect an increase of population from the slow
growth of time, aided by the annual influx of the involuntary emigrants
which it sends across the Ural to the East.
Many a celebrated personage has already been doomed to trace this
melancholy path, particularly during the last century, when the
all-powerful favorite of one period was not seldom doomed to exile by
the next palace revolution. This fate befell, among others, the famous
Prince Mentschikoff. In a covered cart, and in the dress of a peasant,
the confidential minister of Peter the Great, the man who for years had
ruled the vast Russian Empire, was conveyed into perpetual banishment.
His dwelling was now a simple hut, and the spade of the laborer
replaced the pen of the statesman. Domestic misfortunes aggravated
his cruel lot. His wife died from the fatigues of the journey; one of
his daughters soon after fell a victim to the smallpox; his two other
children, who were attacked by the same malady, recovered. He himself
died in the year 1729, and was buried near his daughter at Beresow, the
seat of his exile. Like Cardinal Wolsey, after his fall he remembered
God, whom he had forgotten during the swelling tide of his prosperity.
He considered his punishment as a blessing, which showed him the way
to everlasting happiness. He built a chapel, assisting in its erection
with his own hands, and after the services gave instruction to the
congregation. The inhabitants of Beresow still honor his memory, and
revere him as a saint. They were confirmed in this belief by the
circumstance that his body, having been disinterred in 1821, was found
in a state of perfect preservation, after a lapse of ninety-two years.
One day, as his daughter walked through the village, she was accosted
by a peasant from the window of a hut. This peasant was Prince
Dolgorouky, her father’s enemy--the man who had caused his banishment,
and was now, in his turn, doomed to taste the bitterness of exile. Soon
after the princess and her brother were pardoned by the Empress Anna,
and Dolgorouky took possession of their hut. Young Mentschikoff was
finally reinstated in all the honors and riches of his father, and from
him descends, in a direct line, the famous defender of Sebastopol.
Marshal Münich, the favorite of the Empress Anna, was doomed, in his
sixtieth year, to a Siberian exile, when Elizabeth ascended the throne.
His prison consisted of three rooms--one for his guards or jailers, the
second for their kitchen, the third for his own use. A wall twenty feet
high prevented him from enjoying the view even of the sky. The man who
had once governed Russia had but half a rouble daily to spend; but the
love of his wife--who, although fifty-five years old, had the courage
and the self-denial to accompany him in his banishment--alleviated
the sorrows of his exile. The venerable couple spent twenty-one years
in Siberia, and on their return from exile, fifty-two children,
grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, were assembled to meet them at
Moscow. The revolution which placed Catherine the Second on the throne
had nearly once more doomed the octogenarian statesman to banishment,
but he fortunately weathered the storm, and died as governor of St.
Petersburg.
In this century, also, many an unfortunate exile, guiltless at least
of ignoble crimes, has been doomed to wander to Siberia. There many a
soldier of the _grande armée_ has ended his life; there still lives
many a patriotic Pole, banished for having loved his country “not
wisely but too well;” there also the conspirators who marked with so
bloody an episode the accession of Nicholas, have had time to reflect
on the dangers of plotting against the Czar.
Most of the Siberian exiles are, however, common criminals--such as
in our country would be hung or transported, or sentenced to the
treadmill: the assassin, the robber--to Siberia; the smuggler on the
frontier, whose free-trade principles injure the imperial exchequer--to
Siberia; even the vagabond who is caught roaming, and can give no
satisfactory account of his doings and intentions, receives a fresh
passport--to Siberia.
Thus the annual number of the exiles amounts to about 12,000, who,
according to the gravity of their offenses, are sent farther and
farther eastward. On an average, every week sees a transport of about
300 of these “unfortunates,” as they are termed by popular compassion,
pass through Tobolsk. About one-sixth are immediately pardoned, and
the others sorted. Murderers and burglars are sent to the mines of
Nertschinsk, after having been treated in Russia, before they set out
on their travels, with fifty lashes of the knout. In former times
their nostrils used to be torn off, a barbarity which is now no longer
practised.
According to Sir George Simpson’s “Narrative of a Journey Round the
World” (1847), Siberia is the best penitentiary in the world. Every
exile who is not considered bad enough for the mines--those black
abysses, at whose entrance, as at that of Dante’s hell, all hope must
be left behind--receives a piece of land, a hut, a horse, two cows, the
necessary agricultural implements, and provisions for a year. The first
three years he has no taxes to pay, and, during the following ten, only
the half of the usual assessment. Thus, if he choose to exert himself,
he has every reason to hope for an improvement in his condition, and at
the same time fear contributes to keep him in the right path; for he
well knows that his first trespass would infallibly conduct him to the
mines, a by no means agreeable prospect. Under the influence of these
stimulants, many an exile attains a degree of prosperity which would
have been quite beyond his reach had he remained in European Russia.
Hofmann gives a less favorable account of the Siberian exiles. In his
opinion, the prosperity and civilization of the country has no greater
obstacle than the mass of criminals sent to swell its population. In
the province of Tomsk, which seems to be richly stocked with culprits
of the worst description, all the wagoners belong to this class. They
endeavored to excite his compassion by hypocrisy. “It was the will of
God!” is their standing phrase, to which they tried to give a greater
emphasis by turning up the whites of their eyes. But, in spite of this
pious resignation to the Divine will, Hofmann never met with a worse
set of drunkards, liars, and thieves.
[Illustration: 86. SIBERIAN PEASANT.]
As to the free Siberian peasant, who is generally of exile extraction,
all travellers are agreed in his praise. “As soon as one crosses the
Ural,” says Wrangell, “one is surprised by the extreme friendliness and
good-nature of the inhabitants, as much as by the rich vegetation, the
well-cultivated fields, and the excellent state of the roads in the
southern part of the government of Tobolsk. Our luggage could be left
without a guard in the open air. ‘Ne-boss!’ ‘Fear not!’ was the answer
when we expressed some apprehension; ‘there are no thieves among us.’
This may appear strange, but it must be remembered that the Tomsk
wagoners, described above, are located far more to the east, and that
every exiled criminal has his prescribed circuit, the bounds of which
he may not pass without incurring the penalty of being sent to the
mines.
According to Professor Hansteen, the Siberian peasants are the finest
men of all Russia, with constitutions of iron. With a sheepskin over
their shirt, and their thin linen trowsers, they bid defiance to a cold
of 30° and more. They have nothing of the dirty avarice of the European
Russian boor; they have as much land as they choose for cultivation,
and the soil furnishes all they require for their nourishment and
clothing. Their cleanliness is exemplary. Within the last thirty
years the gold-diggings have somewhat spoilt this state of primitive
simplicity, yet even Hofmann allows that the West-Siberian peasant has
retained much of the honesty and hospitality for which he was justly
celebrated.
Besides agriculture, mining, fishing, and hunting, the carriage of
merchandise is one of the chief occupations of the Siberians, and
probably, in proportion to the population, no other country employs so
large a number of wagoners and carriers. The enormous masses of copper,
lead, iron, and silver produced by the Altai and the Nertschinsk
mountains, have to be conveyed from an immense distance to the Russian
markets. The gold from the East-Siberian diggings is indeed easier to
transport, but the provisions required by the thousands of workmen
employed during the summer in working the auriferous sands, have to be
brought to them, frequently from a distance of many hundred versts.
The millions of furs, from the squirrel to the bear, likewise require
considerable means of transport; and, finally, the highly important
caravan-trade with China conveys thousands of bales of tea from Kiachta
to Irbit. Siberia has indeed many navigable rivers, but a glance at
the map shows us at once that they are so situated as to afford far
less facilities to commerce than would be the case in a more temperate
climate. They all flow northward into an inhospitable sea, which is
forever closed to navigation, and are themselves ice-bound during the
greater part of the year. Enormous distances separate them from each
other, and there are no navigable canals to unite them.
On some of the larger rivers steam-boats have indeed been introduced,
and railroads are _talked of_; but there can be no doubt that, for many
a year to come, the cart and the sledge will continue to be the chief
means of transport in a country which, in consequence of its peculiar
geographical position, is even in its more southern parts exposed to
all the rigors of an Arctic winter.
Thus at Jakutsk (62° N. lat.), which is situated but six degrees
farther to the north than Edinburgh (55° 58´), the mean temperature of
the coldest month is -40°, and mercury a solid body during one-sixth
part of the year; while at Irkutsk (52° 16´ N. lat.), situated but
little farther to the north than Oxford (51° 46´), the thermometer
frequently falls to -30°, or even -40°; temperatures which are of
course quite unheard of on the banks of the Isis. For these dreadful
winters in the heart of Siberia, and under comparatively low degrees of
latitude, there are various causes. The land is, in the first place,
an immense plain slanting to the north; moreover, it is situated at
such a distance from the Atlantic, that beyond the Ural the western
sea-winds, which bring warmth to our winters, assume the character
of cold land-winds; and, finally, it merges in the south into the
high Mongolian plateau, which, situated 4000 feet above the level of
the sea, has of course but little warmth to impart to it in winter;
so that, from whatever side the wind may blow at that season, it
constantly conveys cold. But in summer the scene undergoes a total
change. Under the influence of the sun circling for months round the
North Pole, floods of warmth are poured into Central Siberia, and
rapidly cause the thermometer to rise; no neighboring sea refreshes
the air with a cooling breeze; whether the wind come from the heated
Mongolian deserts, or sweep over the Siberian plains, it imbibes warmth
on every side. Thus the terrible winter of Jakutsk is followed by an
equally _immoderate_ summer (58° 3´), so that rye and barley are able
to ripen on a soil which a few feet below the surface is perpetually
frozen.
[Illustration: 87. IRKUTSK.]
The boundless woods of Siberia harbor a number of fur-bearing animals
whose skins form one of the chief products of the country. Among these
persecuted denizens of the forest, the sable (_Martes zibellina_),
which closely resembles the pine-marten (_Martes abietum_) in shape and
size, deserves to be particularly noticed, both for the beauty of its
pelt, and its importance in the fur-trade. Sleeping by day, the sable
hunts his prey by night; but though he chiefly relishes animal food,
such as hares, young birds, mice, and eggs, he also feeds on berries,
and the tasteful seeds of the _Pinus cembra_. His favorite abode is
near the banks of some river, in holes of the earth, or beneath the
roots of trees. Incessant persecution has gradually driven him into
the most inaccessible forests; the days are no more when the Tunguse
hunter willingly gave for a copper kettle as many sable skins as it
would hold, or when the Kamchatkan trapper, could easily catch seventy
or eighty sables in one winter; but Von Baer still estimates the annual
produce of all Siberia at 45,000 skins. The finest are caught in the
forests between the Lena and the Eastern Sea, but Kamchatka furnishes
the greater number. A skin of the finest quality is worth about forty
roubles on the spot, and at least twice as much in St. Petersburg
or Moscow, particularly when the hair is long, close, and of a deep
blackish-brown, with a thick brown underwool. Skins with long dark hair
tipped with white are highly esteemed, but still more so those which
are entirely black--a color to which the Russians give the preference,
while the Chinese have no objection to reddish tints. In consequence of
this difference of taste, the sables from the Obi, which are generally
larger but of a lighter color, are sent to Kiachta, while the darker
skins, from Eastern Siberia, are directed to St. Petersburg and Leipsic.
The chase of the sable is attended with many hardships and dangers.
The skins are in the highest perfection at the commencement of the
winter; accordingly, towards the end of October, the hunters assemble
in small companies, and proceed along the rivers in boats, or travel
in sledges to the place of rendezvous--taking with them provisions
for three or four months. In the deep and solitary forest they erect
their huts, made of branches of trees, and bank up the snow round them,
as a further protection against the piercing wind. They now roam and
seek everywhere for the traces of the sable, and lay traps or snares
for his destruction. These are generally pitfalls, with loose boards
placed over them, baited with fish or flesh; fire-arms or cross-bows
are more rarely used, as they damage the skins. The traps must be
frequently visited, and even then the hunter often finds that a fox
has preceded him, and left but a few worthless remnants of the sable
in the snare. Or sometimes a snow-storm overtakes him, and then his
care must be to save his own life. Thus sable-hunting is a continual
chain of disappointments and perils, and at the end of the season it is
frequently found that the expenses are hardly paid. Until now the sable
has been but rarely tamed. One kept in the palace of the Arch-bishop of
Tobolsk was so perfectly domesticated, that it was allowed to stroll
about the town as it liked. It was an arch-enemy of cats, raising
itself furiously on its hind-legs as soon as it saw one, and showing
the greatest desire to fight it.
In former times the ermine (_Mustela erminea_) ranked next to the sable
as the most valuable fur-bearing animal of the Siberian woods; at
present the skin is worth no more than from five to eight silver kopeks
at Tobolsk, so that the whole produce of its chase hardly amounts to
200,000 roubles. This little animal resembles in its general appearance
the weasel, but is considerably larger, as it attains a length of from
twelve to fourteen inches. Its color, which is reddish-brown in summer,
becomes milk-white during the winter in the northern regions, with
the exception of the tip of the tail, which always remains black. Its
habits likewise greatly resemble those of the weasel; it is equally
alert in all its movements, and equally courageous in defending itself
when attacked. It lives on birds, poultry, rats, rabbits, leverets, and
all kinds of smaller animals, and will not hesitate to attack a prey
of much greater size than itself. Although various species of ermine
are distributed over the whole forest region of the north, yet Siberia
produces the finest skins. The largest come from the Kolyma, or are
brought to the fair of Ostrownoje by the Tchutchi, who obtain them from
the coldest regions of America.
The Siberian weasel (_Viverra siberica_), which is much smaller than
the ermine, is likewise hunted for its soft and perfectly snow-white
winter dress--the tip of the tail not being black, as in the latter.
The sea-otter, or kalan (_Enhydris lutris_), the most valuable of all
the Russian fur-bearing animals, as 110 silver roubles is the average
price of a single skin, is nearly related to the weasel tribe. The
enormous value set upon the glossy, jet-black, soft, and thick fur of
the kalan sufficiently explains how the Russian hunters have followed
his traces from Kamchatka to America, and almost entirely extirpated
him on many of the coasts and islands of Bering’s Sea and the Northern
Pacific, where he formerly abounded. His habits very much resemble
those of the seal; he haunts sea-washed rocks, lives mostly in the
water, and loves to bask in the sun. His hind feet have a membrane
skirting the outside of the exterior toe, like that of a goose, and
the elongated form of his flexible body enables him to swim with the
greatest celerity. The love of the sea-otters for their young is so
great that they reckon their own lives as nothing to protect them
from danger; and Steller, who had more opportunities than any other
naturalist for observing their habits, affirms that, when deprived of
their offspring, their grief is so strong that in less than a fortnight
they waste away to skeletons. On their flight they carry their young
in their mouths, or drive them along before them. If they succeed in
reaching the sea, they begin to mock their baffled pursuer, and express
their joy by a variety of antics. Sometimes they raise themselves
upright in the water, rising and falling with the waves, or holding
a fore paw over their eyes, as if to look sharply at him; or they
throw themselves on their back, rubbing their breast with their fore
paws; or cast their young into the water, and catch them again, like a
mother playing with her infant. The sea-otter not only surpasses the
fish-otter by the beauty of his fur, but also in size, as he attains
a length of from three to four feet, exclusive of the tail. His food
consists of small fishes, molluscs, and crustaceous animals, whose hard
calcareous covering his broad grinders are well adapted to crush.
Next to the sea-otter, the black fox, whose skin is of a rich and
shining black or deep brown color, with the longer or exterior hairs of
a silvery-white, furnishes the most costly of all the Siberian furs.
The average price of a single skin amounts to 60 or 70 silver roubles,
and rich amateurs will willingly pay 300 roubles, or even more, for
those of first-rate quality. The skin of the Siberian red fox, which
ranks next in value, is worth no more than 20 roubles; the steel-gray
winter dress of the Siberian crossed fox (thus named from the black
cross on his shoulders), from 10 to 12 roubles; and that of the Arctic
fox, though very warm and close, no more than 6 or 8.
The bear family likewise furnishes many skins to the Siberian furrier.
That of the young brown bear (_Ursus arctos_) is highly esteemed for
the trimming of pelisses; but that of the older animal has little
value, and is used, like that of the polar bear, as a rug or a
foot-cloth in sledges.
The lynx is highly prized for its very thick, soft, rust-colored winter
dress, striped with darker brown. It attains the size of the wolf,
and is distinguished from all other members of the cat tribe, by the
pencils of long black hair which tip its erect and pointed ears. It
loves to lie in ambush for the passing reindeer or elk, on some thick
branch at a considerable distance from the ground. With one prodigious
bound it leaps upon the back of its victim, strikes its talons into its
flesh, and opens with its sharp teeth the arteries of its neck.
Though singly of but little value, as a thousand of its skins are
worth no more than one sea-otter, the squirrel plays in reality a
far more important part in the Siberian fur-trade than any of the
before-mentioned animals, as the total value of the gray peltry which
it furnishes to trade is at least seven times greater than that of
the sable. Four millions of gray squirrel skins are, on an average,
annually exported to China, from two to three millions to Europe, and
the home consumption of the Russian Empire is beyond all doubt still
more considerable, as it is the fur most commonly used by the middle
classes. The European squirrels are of inferior value, as the hair of
their winter dress is still a mixture of red and gray; in the territory
of the Petschora, the gray first becomes predominant, and increases
in beauty on advancing towards the east. The squirrels are caught in
snares or traps, or shot with blunted arrows. Among the fur-bearing
animals of Siberia, we have further to notice the varying hare, whose
winter dress is entirely white, except the tips of the ears, which
are black; the Baikal hare; the ground-squirrel, whose fur has fine
longitudinal dark-brown stripes, alternating with four light-yellow
ones; and the suslik, a species of marmot, whose brown fur, with white
spots and stripes, fetches a high price in China. It occurs over all
Siberia as far as Kamchatka. Its burrows are frequently nine feet deep;
this, however, does not prevent its being dug out by the hunters, who
likewise entrap it in spring when it awakes from its winter sleep.
Summing together the total amount of the Russian fur-trade, Von Baer
estimates the value of the skins annually brought to the market by
the Russian American Fur Company at half a million of silver roubles,
the produce of European Russia at a million and a half, and that of
Siberia at three millions. As agriculture decreases on advancing to the
north, the chase of the fur-bearing animals increases in importance.
Thus, in the most northern governments of European Russia--Wjatka,
Wologda, Olonez, and Archangel--it is one of the chief occupations of
the inhabitants. In Olonez about four hundred bears are killed every
year, and the immense forests of Wologda furnish from one hundred to
two hundred black foxes, three hundred bears, and three millions of
squirrels.
Although the sable and the sea-otter are not so numerous as in former
times, yet, upon the whole, the Russian fur-trade is in a very
flourishing condition; nor is there any fear of its decreasing, as the
less valuable skins--such as those of the squirrels and hares, which
from their numbers weigh most heavily in the balance of trade--are
furnished by rodents, which multiply very rapidly, and find an
inexhaustible supply of food in the forests and pasture-grounds of
Siberia.
The chase of the fur-bearing animals affords the North-Siberian
nomads--such as the Ostiaks, Jakuts, Tungusi, and Samoïedes--the only
means of procuring the foreign articles they require; hence it taxes
all their ingenuity, and takes up a great deal of their time. On the
river-banks and in the forests they lay innumerable snares and traps,
all so nicely adapted to the size, strength, and peculiar habits of
the various creatures they are intended to capture, that it would be
almost impossible to improve them. An industrious Jakut will lay about
five hundred various traps as soon as the first snow has fallen; these
he visits about five or six times in the course of the winter, and
generally finds some animal or other in every eighth or tenth snare.
The produce of his chase he brings to the nearest fair, where the
tax-gatherer is waiting for the jassak, which is now generally paid in
money (five paper roubles = four shillings). With the remainder of his
gains he purchases iron kettles, red cloth for hemming his garments,
powder and shot, rye-meal, glass pearls, tobacco, and brandy--which,
though forbidden to be sold publicly, is richly supplied to him in
private--and then retires to his native wilds. From the smaller fairs,
the furs are sent by the Russian merchants to the larger staple places,
such as Jakutsk, Nertschinsk, Tobolsk, Kiachta, Irbit, Nishne-Novgorod,
and finally St. Petersburg and Moscow; for by repeatedly sorting and
matching the size and color of the skins, their value is increased.
About thirty years ago firs were still the chief export article of
Siberia--to China, European Russia, and Western Europe--but since then
the discovery of its rich auriferous deposits has made gold its most
important produce. The precious metal is found on the western slopes of
the Ural chain and in West Siberia; but the most productive diggings
are situated in East Siberia, where they give occupation to many
thousands of workmen, and riches to a few successful speculators.
The vast territory drained by the Upper Jenissei and its tributaries,
the Superior and the Middle Tunguska, consists for the greater part
of a dismal and swampy primeval forest, which scarcely thirty years
since was almost totally unknown. A few wretched nomads and fur-hunters
were the only inhabitants of the Taiga--as those sylvan deserts are
called--and squirrel skins seemed all they were ever likely to produce.
A journey through the Taiga is said to be one of the most fatiguing and
tedious tours which it is possible to make. Up-hill and down-hill, a
narrow path leads over a swampy ground, into which the horses sink up
to their knees. The rider is scarcely less harassed than the patient
animal which carries him over this unstable soil. No bird enlivens the
solitary forest with its song; the moaning of the wind in the crowns of
the trees alone interrupts the gloomy silence. The eternal sameness of
the scene--day after day one constant succession of everlasting larches
and fir-trees--is as wearying to the mind as the almost impassable road
to the body.
But suddenly the sound of the axe or the creaking of the water-wheel is
heard; the forest opens, a long row of huts extends along the banks of
a rivulet, and hundreds of workmen are seen moving about as industrious
as a hive of bees. What is the cause of all this activity--of this
sudden change from a death-like quiet to a feverish life? These are the
gold-fields; the sands of these swampy grounds are mixed, like those
of the Pactolus, with gold, and their fortunate possessors would not
exchange them for the finest meadows, cornfields, or vineyards.
Fedor Popow, a hunter of the province of Tomsk, is said to have been
the first discoverer of gold in Siberia; and Government having granted
permission to private persons to search for the precious metal, a few
enterprising men directed their attention to the wild spurs of the
Sajan Mountains. A brilliant success rewarded their endeavors. In
the year 1836 an exploring-party, sent out by a merchant named Jakin
Resanow, discovered a rich deposit of auriferous sand near the banks of
the Great Birussa; and in 1839–40, similar deposits were found along
several of the tributaries of the Upper Tunguska, and still farther to
the north, on the Oktolyk, a rivulet that flows into the Pit.
The expenses of a searching-party amount, on an average, to 3000
silver roubles (£600); and as very often no gold whatever is found,
these hazardous explorations not seldom put both the purse and the
perseverance of their undertakers to a severe trial. Thus Nikita
Maesnikow had spent no less than 260,000 silver roubles (£52,000) in
fruitless researches, when he at length discovered the rich gold-field
on the Peskin, which, as we shall presently see, amply remunerated him
for his previous losses.
Of the difficulties which await the gold-searchers, a faint idea may
be formed, on considering that the whole of the auriferous region,
which far surpasses in size most of the European kingdoms, consists of
one vast forest like that above described. Patches of grass-land on
which horses can feed are of very rare occurrence, and damp moss is
the only bed the Taiga affords. As the gold-searchers are very often
at work some hundreds of versts from the nearest village, they are
obliged to carry all their provisions along with them. Their clothes
are almost constantly wet, from their sleeping in the damp forest, from
the frequent rains to which they are exposed, and from their toiling
in the swampy ground. Scarcely have they dug a few feet deep when
the pit fills with water, which they are obliged to pump out as fast
as it gathers, and thus standing up to their knees in the mud, they
work on until they reach the solid rock, for then only can they be
certain that no auriferous layer has been neglected in their search.
When we consider, moreover, that all this labor is very often totally
useless, their perseverance can not but be admired; nor is it to be
wondered at that exploring-parties have sometimes encamped on the
site of rich gold-deposits without examining the spot, their patience
having been exhausted by repeated failures in the vicinity. When the
winter, with its deep snowfalls, suddenly breaks in upon the searchers,
their hardships become dreadful. The frost and want of food kill their
horses, their utensils have to be left behind; and dragging their most
indispensable provisions along with them on small sledges, they are
not seldom obliged to wade for weeks through the deep snow before they
reach some inhabited place.
But even the severity of a Siberian winter does not prevent the sending
out of exploring-parties. Such winter explorations are only fitted out
for the more accurate examination of _very_ swampy auriferous grounds
that have been discovered in the previous year, and where it is less
difficult to work in the frozen soil than to contend with the water in
summer. A winter-party travels without horses, the workmen themselves
transporting all that they require on light sledges. They are obliged
to break up the obdurate soil with pickaxes, and the sand thus loosened
has to be thawed and washed in warm water. After their day’s work, they
spend the night in huts made of the branches of trees, where they sleep
on the hard ground. It requires the iron constitution of a Siberian
to bear such hardships, to which many fall a prey, in spite of their
vigorous health.
A gold-deposit having been found, the fortunate discoverer obtains
the grant of a lot of ground, 100 sashens (600 feet) broad, and 2500
sashens (or 5 versts) long. Two adjoining lots are never granted to the
same person, but a subsequent purchase or amalgamation is permitted.
At first Government was satisfied with a moderate tax of 15 per cent.
of the produce; subsequently, however, this was doubled, until within
the last few years, when, the gold production having been found to
decrease, the primitive impost was returned to, or even reduced to 5
per cent. for the less productive mines. Besides this tax, from four
to eight gold roubles per pound of gold, according to the richness of
the diggings, have to be paid for police expenses. Only a twelve years’
lease is granted, after which the digging reverts to the crown, and
a new lease has to be purchased. As the severe climate of the Taiga
limits the working-time to four months (from May to September), the
period of the concession is thus in reality not more than four years.
The first care of the lessee is, of course, to collect the necessary
provisions and working apparatus. The distant steppe of the Kirghese
furnishes him with dried or salted meat; his iron utensils he purchases
in the factories of the Ural; the fairs of Irbit and Nishne-Novgorod
supply him with every other article; and rye-meal and fishes he easily
obtains from the Siberian peasants or traders. By water and by land,
all these various stores have to be transported in summer to the
_residence_ or establishment of the gold-digger on the border of the
Taiga. The transport through the Taiga itself takes place during the
winter, on sledges, at a very great cost; and the expense is still more
increased if time has been lost through inattention, as then all that
may still be wanting has to be conveyed to the spot on the backs of
horses.
Most of the men that are hired for working in the diggings are
exiles--the remainder generally free peasants, who have been reduced
in their circumstances by misfortunes or misconduct. The procuring of
the necessary workmen is an affair of no small trouble and expense.
Before every summer campaign the agents of the gold-diggers travel
about the country like recruiting-sergeants, and after giving many
fair words and some hand-money, they take the passport of the man
engaged as a security for his appearance. But although a passport is
an indispensable document in Siberia, yet it not seldom happens that
the workman finds means to obtain a new one under some other name, and,
engaging himself to a new master, defrauds the first of his hand-money.
It may be easily imagined that, as the workmen only consist of the
refuse of society, the greatest discipline is necessary to keep
them in order. The system of a secret police, so cherished by all
arbitrary governments, is here extended to its utmost limits; scarcely
has a suspicious word fallen among the workmen, when the director is
immediately informed of it, and takes his measures accordingly. Every
man knows that he is watched, and is himself a spy upon his companions.
Hofmann relates an instance of a plot singularly nipped in the bud. In
one of the gold-diggings on the Noiba, the workmen, at the instigation
of an under-overseer, had refused to perform a task assigned to them.
It was to be feared that the spirit of insubordination would gain
ground, and extend over all the neighboring diggings. The director,
consequently, sent at once for military assistance; this, however,
proved to be unnecessary, for when the Cossacks arrived at the Noiba, a
thunder-storm arose, and at the very moment they came riding up to the
digging a flash of lightning killed the ringleader in the midst of the
mutineers. As soon as the men recovered from the first shock of their
surprise and terror, they all exclaimed, “This is the judgment of God!”
and, without any further hesitation, at once returned to their duty.
Besides free rations, the ordinary wages of a common workman are 15
roubles banco, or 12 shillings a month, but more experienced hands
receive 50 or even 60 roubles. The pay dates from the day when the
workman makes his appearance at the residence, and thenceforward,
also, his rations are served out to him. They consist of a pound of
fresh or salt meat, or an equivalent portion of fish on fasting-days,
cabbage and groats for soup, besides fresh rye-bread and _quas_
(the favorite national beverage) _ad libitum_. The whole number of
workmen employed in a gold-digging subdivide themselves into separate
societies, or artells. Each of these elects a chief, or head-man, to
whom the provisions for his artell are weighed out, and to whom all the
other common interests are intrusted. The sale of spirituous liquor is
strictly forbidden, for its use would render it impossible to maintain
order; and, according to law, no gin-shop is allowed to be opened
within 60 versts of a digging.
The pay and the liberal rations received would alone be insufficient
to allure workmen to the diggings, for, as we have seen, the voyage
there and back is extremely irksome, and the labor very fatiguing. An
excellent plan has consequently been devised for their encouragement.
The contract of each workman distinctly specifies the quantity of
his daily work, consisting of a certain number of wheelbarrows of
sand--from 100 to 120, according to the distance from the spot where
it is dug to the place where it is washed out--each reckoned at three
pouds,[11] which one party has to fill, another to convey to the
wash-stands, and a third to wash.
The task is generally completed by noon, or early in the afternoon.
For the labor they perform during the rest of the day, or on Sundays
and holidays, they receive an extra pay of two or three roubles for
every solotnik of gold they wash. Every evening the workmen come with
the produce of their free labor to the office, the gold is weighed in
their presence, and the artell credited for the amount of its share.
This free-work is as advantageous for the masters as the laborers. The
former enjoy a net profit of eight or ten roubles per solotnik, and all
the working expenses are of course put to the charge of the contract
labor; and the latter earn a great deal of money, according to their
industry or good-luck, for when fortune favors an artell, its share may
amount to a considerable sum. During Hofmann’s stay at the Birussa,
each workman of a certain artell earned in one afternoon 72 roubles,
and the Sunday’s work of another of these associations gave to each
of its members 105 roubles, or £4. The artisans--who, though employed
in a gold-mine, are not engaged in digging or washing the auriferous
sand--are also rewarded from time to time by a day’s free-labor
in places which are known to be rich. On one of these occasions a
Cossack on the Oktolyk received 300 roubles for his share of the gold
that was washed out of 49 wheelbarrows of sand. These of course are
extraordinary cases, but they show how much a workman _may_ gain; and
being of course exaggerated by report, are the chief inducements which
attract the workmen, and keep them to their duty.
If the free-labor is unproductive, many of the workmen desert or give
up free-labor altogether, and in both cases the master is a loser. To
prevent this, it is customary, in many of the diggings, to pay the
workmen a fixed sum for their extra work.
At the end of the season the workmen are paid off, and receive
provisions for their home-journey. Generally, the produce of their
summer’s labor is spent, in the first villages they reach, in drinking
and gambling; so that, to be able to return to their families, they are
obliged to bind themselves anew for the next season, and to receive
hand-money from the agent, who, knowing their weakness, is generally
on the spot to take advantage of it. After spending a long winter full
of want and privations, they return to the Taiga in spring, and thus,
through their own folly, their life is spent in constant misery and
hard labor.
During the winter the digging is deserted, except by an under-overseer
and a few workmen, who make the necessary preparations for the next
campaign, receive and warehouse the provisions as they arrive,
and guard the property against thieves or wanton destruction. The
upper-overseer or director, meanwhile, is fully occupied at the
residence in forwarding the provisions and stores that have arrived
there during the summer to the mine, in making the necessary purchases
for the next year, in sending his agents about the country to engage
new workmen; and thus the winter is, in fact, his busiest time. With
the last sledge transport he returns to the digging, to receive the
workmen as they arrive, and to see that all is ready for the summer.
As his situation is one of great trust and responsibility, he enjoys a
considerable salary. Maesnikow, for instance, paid his chief director
40,000 roubles a year; and 6000 or 8000 roubles, besides free station,
and a percentage of the gold produced, is the ordinary emolument.
It is thus evident that the expenses of a Siberian gold-mine are
enormous, but when fortune favors the undertaker he is amply rewarded
for his outlay; an annual produce of 10, 15, or 20 pouds of gold is
by no means uncommon. In the year 1845, 458 workmen employed in the
gold-mine of Mariinsk, belonging to Messrs. Golubdow and Kusnezow,
produced 81 pouds 19⅓ lbs. of the much-coveted metal; in the year
1843 the mine of Olginsk, belonging to Lieutenant Malewinsky, yielded
82 pouds 37¼ lbs.; and in 1844, the labor of 1014 workmen, employed
in the mine of Kresdowosdwishensk, belonging to Messrs. Kusnezow and
Schtschegolow, produced no less than 87 pouds 14 lbs. of gold. But even
Kresdowosdwishensk has been distanced by the mine of Spasky, situated
near the sources of the Peskin, which, in the year 1842, yielded its
fortunate possessor, the above-mentioned Counsellor Nikita Maesnikow
(one of the few men who were already extremely rich before the Siberian
auriferous deposits were discovered), the enormous quantity of 100
pouds of gold! From 1840 to 1845, Maesnikow extracted from this mine
no less than 348 pouds 6 lbs. of gold, worth 4,135,174 silver roubles,
or about £640,000. Still more recently, in 1860, the Gawrilow mine,
belonging to the house of Rjasanow, produced 102½ pouds of pure gold.
But in Siberia, as elsewhere, mining operations are frequently doomed
to end in disappointment, particularly if the space destined to
be worked in the following summer has not been carefully examined
beforehand, as the ore is often very unequally distributed. A
speculator, having discovered a gold-mine, examined four or five
samples of the sand, which gave a highly satisfactory result. Delighted
with his good-fortune, he made his arrangements on a grand scale, and
collected provisions for 500 workmen; but when operations began, it was
found that he had, unfortunately, hit upon a small patch of auriferous
sand, the vicinity of which was totally void of gold, so that his 500
workmen produced no more than a few pounds of ore, and he lost at least
£10,000 by his adventure.
The entire gold produce of East Siberia amounted, in 1845, to 848 pouds
36 lbs., and in 1856 to about 1100 pouds; but latterly, in consequence
of the increasing wages and dearness of provisions, which has caused
many of the less productive mines to be abandoned, it has somewhat
diminished. In 1860, 31,796 men, 919 women, and 8751 horses and oxen,
were employed in the Siberian gold-mines.
As may easily be imagined, the discovery of these sources of wealth
in the desert has caused a great revolution in the social state of
Siberia. The riches so suddenly acquired by a few favorites of fortune,
have raised luxury to an unexampled height, and encouraged a senseless
prodigality. Some _sterlets_[12] having been offered for 300 roubles
to a miner suddenly raised from penury to wealth, “Fool!” said the
upstart, with the superb mien of a conquering hero, to the fish-dealer,
“wilt thou sell me these excellent sterlets so cheap? Here are a
thousand roubles; go, and say that thou hast dealt with _me_!”
The small town of Krasnojarsk, romantically situated on the Jenissei,
is the chief seat of the rich miners. Here may be seen the choicest
toilettes, the most showy equipages, and champagne (which in Siberia
costs at least £1 a bottle) is the daily beverage of the gold
aristocracy. Unfortunately, Krasnojarsk had, until very recently, not
a single bookseller’s shop to boast of; and while thousands were
lavished on vanity and sensual enjoyments, not a rouble was devoted to
the improvement of the mind.
Less rich in gold than the province of Jeniseisk, but richer in copper
and iron, and above all in platina, is the Ural, where mining industry
was first introduced by Peter the Great, in the last years of the
seventeenth century, and has since acquired a colossal development.
Though gold was discovered in the Uralian province of Permia as early
as 1745, yet its production on a large scale is of more modern date. In
the year 1816 the whole quantity of gold furnished by the Ural amounted
only to 5 pouds 35 lbs., while in 1834 it had increased to 405 pouds.
The discovery of the precious metals on the estates of the large
mine-proprietors of the Ural, who already before that time were
among the wealthiest men of the empire, has increased their riches
to an enormous extent, and given a European celebrity to the names
of Jakowlew and Demidoff. Werch Issetsk and Werchne Tagilsk, in the
province of Permia, belonging to the Jakowlew family, have an extent of
more than three millions of acres, with a population of 11,000 souls.
Besides iron and copper, their chief produce, these estates yielded, in
1834, 58 pouds of gold.
Nishne-Tagilsk, belonging, since 1725, to the Demidoffs, is a still
more magnificent possession; for it may truly be said, that perhaps
nowhere in the world are greater mineral riches congregated in one
spot than here, where, besides vast quantities of iron and copper, the
washing of the sands produced, in 1834 no less than 29 pouds of gold,
and 113 pouds 3 lbs. of platina. The estate extends over four millions
of acres, and its population, in 1834, amounted to 20,000 souls.
The town of Nishne-Tagilsk has about 15,000 inhabitants, and Helmersen
(“Travels in the Ural”) praises the Demidoffs for their zeal in
carrying the civilization of Europe to the wilds of the Ural. In an
excellent elementary school, 150 boys are clothed, fed, and educated
at their expense. Those pupils who distinguish themselves by their
abilities are then sent to a higher school, such as the Demidoff Lyceum
in Jaroslaw, or the University of Moscow, and after the termination
of their studies obtain a situation on the estates of the family. The
palace of the Demidoffs has a fine collection of paintings by the first
Italian masters; but it is seldom if ever inhabited by the proprietors,
who prefer Florence and Paris to the Ural. The founder of the family
was an eminent gunsmith of the town of Tula, whose abilities gained him
the favor of Peter the Great, and the gift of the mines on which the
colossal fortune of his descendants has been raised.