ASIA
OJornell Itttneraita Slibtarg
CHARLES WILLIAM WASON
COLLECTION
CHINA AND THE CHINESE
THE GIFT OF
CHARLES WILLIAM WASON
CLASS OF 1876
1918
Cornell University Library
DK 755.F84
The real Siberia :toaether with an accou
3 1924 023 035 912
Cornell University
Library
The original of tliis bool< is in
tine Cornell University Library.
There are no known copyright restrictions in
the United States on the use of the text.
http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924023035912
THE REAL SIBERIA.
ENGLAND l^t CONTINENT
VIA
QUEENBORO^
and FLUSHINQ.
ROYAL MAIL ROUTE.
TWICE DAILY IN BOTH DIRECTIONS.
Day and Night Servicom
Through Tickets and Luggage Arrangements from
London (Holborn Viaduct, St. Paul's, Victoria, and
Heme Hill Stations) to most of the principal towns on
the Continent, and vice versa.
BEST AND MOST DIRECT ROUTE
TO
RUSSIA and SIBERIA,
THROUGH CORRIDOR CARRIAGES BETWEEN
FLUSHINQ , AND BERLIN; BERLIN AND WARSAW;
WARSAW AND MOSCOW ; MOSCOW AND IRKUTSK.
Time Tables, Tickets, and any further particulars
from the
Zeeland Steamship Company's Inquiry Office,
Eleotra House, Finsbury Pauement, Moorgate,
London, E.G.;
from the Booking Clerks at the above South Eastern and
Chatham Railway Stations ; or through the Agents in
England aad abroad.
^^^
THE REAL SIBERIA
TOGETHER WITH AN
ACCOUNT OF
A DASH THROUGH MANCHURIA
BY
JOHN FOSTER FRASER
Author of " Round tht World on a Wheel," etc.
CASSELL AND COMPANY, LIMITED
LONDON. PARIS. NEW YORK AND
MELBOURNE. MGMIV.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
First Edition April 1502.
Reprinted June and Sepiemher 1902, Jamtary^ March, May,
July, August, October and November 1903, January,
February, March 10 and 25, ^/nV ««(/ June 1904.
TO
HENRY JOHN PALMER. Esquire
EDITOR OF THE "YORKSHIRE POST"
AND
PRESIDENT OF THE INSTITUTE OF JOURNALISTS
AT
WHOSE INVITATION
I TRAVELLED ACROSS SIBERIA
I
DEDICATE THIS VOLUME
THE RECORD OF MY WANDERINGS.
FOREWORD.
This volume lays claim to give nothing more than
personal impressions of a journey made across Siberia
and through Manchuria in the autumn of 1901.
I went to Siberia on a mission of curiosity, with
the average Britisher's prejudice against things
Russian, and with my eyes wide open to see things
I might criticise and even condemn.
If, however, I found little to bless in the great
land beyond the Urals, I also found very little to
curse. Through generations there has grown up in
the public mind the idea that Siberia is a land of
snow and exiles. There is much that is thrilling in
stories of innocent prisoners, weary and starving, being
driven through blinding storms with the whips of
brute oflBcials to urge them on. Yet the public, I am
afraid, rather like that sort of thing, and a succession
of writers have ministered to their appetite for sensa-
tion. So only one phase of Siberian life — a slight
and a passing phase — has been depicted.
Nurtured largely on such books, I went to Siberia
half expecting to feed on horrors, and with the
intention of Avriting one more volume to show how
cruel the Russian is. Of course I saw much to
condemn. But I saw something else. I saw that the
popular idea about Siberia is altogether wrong. I saw
a land capable of immense agricultural possibilities,
great stretches of prairie waiting for the plough, huge
▼iii FOBEWOBD.
forests, magnificent waterways and big towns, with
fine stores, with great hotels, with electric light
gleaming everywhere ; in a word, instead of a gaunt,
lone land, inhabited only by convicts, I saw a country
that reminded me from the first day to the last of
Canada, and the best parts of western America. i
I look upon Siberia as the ultimate great food-
producing region of the earth. The building of the
mighty Trans-Siberian Railway has attracted the
attention of traders. Americans and Germans are
already in the country opening up commerce.
Britishers, however, lag behind.
The title of this book is "The Real Siberia,"
because I endeavour to show that the Siberia of
convicts and prisons is passing away, and the Siberia
of the reaping machine, the gold drill, the timber
yard, the booming, flourishing new town, is awakening
into life.
Some of my conclusions may be wrong. But I
looked about and kept my ears open. I am too small
a man to pose either as a friend or enemy to Russia.
I am simply a man who went out to see, and I have
written about what I saw. Whatever be the faults of
this book, it is, at least, an honest record.
JOHN FOSTER ERASER.
The Atjthoks' Club,
Whitehall Coukt, London, 8.W.
April 1902.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
The Staut prom Moscow. taof
Off to Siberia— Not by the Siberian Express— My Travelling Com-
panions—The English Governess in Eusaia- Her Sphere of
Influence- Prince Hilkoff— His Anglo-American Education—
St. Petersburg and Moscow— J?7i RnuCe ..... 1
CHAPTER II.
Over thb Ural Mountains.
Our First Meal— Russian Refreshment Rooms— Waiting for a Wash
—The Emigrants— Their Habits and Customs— A Woeful Pic-
ture—The Volga — Tartars and Cossacks — A Russian Village —
Why the Railway avoids the Towns— Ufa— The Urals . . 12
CHAPTER III.
Through a Great Lone Land.
Chelyabinsk — An Anglophil Baroness — The Ante-room to Siberia — ^A
Region with a Past — Siberia's [New Leaf — Termak— Freebooter
and Empire-Maker — The Trans-Siberian Line — Some Figures
and Facts 23
CHAPTER IV.
In a Siberian Town.
Omsk — The Heart of Siberia — A genuine Droshld — Nitohevo /—" My
little Dove"— The Policeman's Rattle— The Irtish River— Omsk
Gaieties — Omsk Celebrities — The finest Pasture Land in the
World — American Manufacturers to the Front — John Bull lags
Behind — "The Best Danish" from Omsk— .V Khirghiz Camp—
The Red Indians of the Steppes — Omsk en Jilt . . , . "'2
CHAPTER V.
Siberia as an Abricultur.\l Codntrt.
The Real Siberia — Siberian Settlers and Settlements— Shortcomings
of the Russian Farmer — His Lack of Energy — Siberian Horses-
Tartar Sheep — Big Game — How Siberia is Administered —
Feasant Lifs 44
: CONTENTS.
CHAPTER VI.
A Caravanserai for Orgies. r
'CccAffls/"— The Importance of Sealing-Wax— Tomsk— Why the
EaUway gives Tomsk a Wide Berth— A Eollicking City— Mil-
lionaires and Ex-Convicts — The Goldfields — A Granary for
Siberia— The Hermit of Tomsk — Was he the Czar? — An
Exiled Prince
56
CHAPTER VII.
Vagrant Notes by the Way.
From Tomsk to Irkutsk— An Unromantic Route— I am Shadowed—
My Revenge- Russian Tea-A Land of Pines— The Railway
Workmen— Good-Conduct Convicts— The Trans-Siberian Time
Table 69
CHAPTER VIII.
The Paris op Siberia.
Irkutsk— The Paris of Siberia— The Tea Trade -The Irkutsk Labora-
tory and its Ingots— The Heathen Chinee— "Ways that are
Dark"— A Mushroom City— A Felt Want— Fashion and Wealth 81
CHAPTER IX.
In Irkutsk Prison.
Mr. George Kennan and the Siberian Prisons— My Resolve to see for
Myself— I visit the Prison at Irkutsk — The Governor— Governor
and Prisoners — The Kitchen — Criminal Types — The Prison
for Women — The Siberian Exiles — Verestchagin — A Story
with a Moral 92
CHAPTER X.
Sunday in Siberia.
In the Cathedral— Orthodoxy and Dissent — A famous Monastery —
The Apostle of Siberia — St. Innokente 105
CHAPTER XI.
Trade and Some Trifles.
The Russian and his Knife and Fork— Irkutsk Industries — Em-
ployers and Employed — Officialdom — Russian Dislike of Hurry
— Siberian Waterways — Our one Import 1 1.18
CHAPTER XII.
Across the Great Lake Baikal.
Bussian Bags and Baggage — The River Angara — Its beautiful
CONTENTS. xi
PAas
Scenery — Lake Baikal — A Steamer made in Newcastle — A
FoUow-Britisher— The Wonderful ' ' Baikal "— Tlie Yabloni Moun-
tains—Our only Tunnel— The 13uriat Mongols— A Sootch-liko
Laml-Cliita 128
CHAPTER XIII.
Thb Oampobnia op Sieema.
The Siberian Gold Mines — Tlie Nertohinsk Silver Mines— Convict
Labour — The River Shilka — Streitinsk— A Eefractory Bedstead . 142
CHATTER XIV.
Down the Shilka and Amur Eivehs.
I leave the Railway — The Town of Streitinsk — Russian Reckoning —
' ' The Best Hotel " — A Siberian Night's Entertainment — Off to
Blagovestohensk — The Admiral Tschchachoff— Saloon Studies —
How to Stop a Snorer — A Thousand Miles of Pretty Scenery . 154
CHAPTER XV.
The Black Chime of Blagovestohensk.
A Collision— We u'rivo at Blogovestohensk — The New York of
Siberia — Twenty Years ago a Cossack Outpost — ^A Military
Stronghold of the Future— The Crime of 1900— How the
Chinese were "Expelled" 167
CHAPTER XVI.
Some Companions and Some Tales.
A Fi-anoo-Eussian Eejoioing — To Khabarorak on the De Witte —
Agriculture in the Amur Region — The Siberian Pig — The
Fur Trade — My American Companion — His Tall Tales—
Khabarovsk ISl
CHAPTER X\ II.
The Land's End op Siberia.
Siberian Russians and Russians Proper — "Only Ohinomon" — In
Sight of the Pacific — Vladivostok Station — Wanted 1 A
British Consul — The Wrong Sort of Consul — Y hidivostok
Harbour— Russia's Achievements in the East .... 194
CHAPTER XVIII.
A PLrNOE INTO THE FOEKIDDEN LaND OF MaNCHVRIA.
In Sear-oh of Adventure — My Russian Kit — My Fellow-Travallers —
Some Ugly Iiioidents 208
xii CONTENTS.
CHAPTER XIX. PAOi
A Manchurian "Boom" Town.
A Considerate CoBsack— Cheerfulness under Difficulties— Cossack
Characteristics— Harbin— Its Cafe Chantamt— The Mancliurian
Railway — The Sungari River 220
CHAPTER XX.
StISPEOTED AND AuKESTED.
A Comfortless Journey — A Magic Scene — "Shookeeng" — I am
Arrested and asked to Dine — Speeding the Parting Guest —
Hingan Town — Into Mongolia 232
CHAPTER XXI.
In a Cosner or Mongolia.
Mindenken — The Making of the Railway — Tluree Miles of Line a
Day — A Day among the Mountains — Hilar — A Walled City —
Back in Siberia 244
CHAPTER XXII.
A Cold Drive to a Great Prison.
Alexandrovski — A Moonlight Sledge Ride — The Governor of the
Prison — A Scotch Prisoner — The Prisoners' Work and Wages —
Their Shop — Their Theatre — Their Library — Married Convicts , 256
CHAPTER XXIII.
The Homeward Journey and Some Opinions.
The Bi- Weekly Express — A Train de luxe — A Marvel of Cheapness —
The Companionable Russian — My Prejudices Dispelled — Russia
as I Found It — The Real Russia and the Real Siberia — "Russia's
Destiny"? ... 270
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
I\lB. Foster Fbaseb . . ....
Map
Ths Boad to Sibebia
THB SlBKBlAN IB NOT A GOOD AGEIODLTUBIST
The Popdlar Idea abodt Travel in Siberia
The BbaIi Wat to Traverse Siberia ,
The Great Bridqb across the Yolqa .
The Boute over the Ural Mountains ■
Whenever the Train halted there was an
Opportunity for a Promenade .
Third Olass Passengers
OusK Station
Cadets at Omsk
The Ohuroh of St. Nicholas, Omsk
The Oeremonv of Blessing the Waters
Khibqis on the Steppes ......
A Khirqis Bride
Village Oronies
Dinner Time on a Farm
The Conductor
Thebb is a Samovar at every Station , .
The Club-house at Tomsk
The Theatre at Tomsk
, Frontispiece
To face p.
1
f» II
6
11 II
6
II II
16
II II
16
II II
18
II II
33
II II
27
II 1*
27
II II
31
11 II
31
II II
36
II II
36
If II
45
II II
IS
i» II
48
II II
54
II 11
59
11 II
69
11 II
66
>i It
66
xiv LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS,
Thbough tee Taiga
A 'WAYsroE Station
These is a husb Wateb-Toweb at evbet Station
A Ttfioal Slbebiah Station
Thb Citt op Iekhtsk
Aftebnoon Soene in Ixeutse
The Hotel Dekko at Ieeutse ....
The Chief or Ibeutsk Fbison ....
A Geoup of Conviots whh Heads Half Shaven
In Ibeutsk Fbison
A Gboup of CoHTic?ra . . ^ . . ,
Five Wouen who had Udbdebed theib Husbands
On the Boas to the MoNAarESY . , . ,
The Monasibby of St. Innokente ....
Vladivostok
The Gbeat Enolish-Bdili Iob-Bbeaker "Baikal "
Kdnnino a Tbain on Boabd the "Baikal"
Lake Baikal in Suuueb
The "Anqaba" in Wikteb
The "Anqaba" on Lake Baikal ....
My Lady Acquaintances Buy Feuit
A Couple of Bubiats
The "Baikal" in the Ice .... .
The "Baikal" Beeakino the Ice ,
Khababotsk
Babtsbinq on tee Biteb Side ....
On the Biteb Fbont at Stbsitinse
SiBEITINSE .
To face p.
70
it
1)
70
1)
i>
75
)f
>>
75
..
If
82
)»
ij
86
n
»»
86
)»
II
91
»»
»»
91
ri
11
95
M
it
97
it
97
112
>»
II
112
)}
)»
119
IT
IJ
122
It
t*
131
ii
it
131
13
it
135
II
II
135
»>
»i
138
»»
it
138
»)
11
142
»»
»i
142
i>
»i
145
a
it
145
))
l»
151
It
)l
151
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. xv
Down thb Amur River To face p. 164
On thb Banks of the Amur „ ,, 154
Thu Out o» Tomsk ,, ,> 160
Down thb Amur u n 166
A Prison Babqb on thb Eitbb .... „ ,, 166
Thb " Grand Hotel " at Blasovestohensk . . „ „ 171
The Btvbr Front at Blaqovbstohensk . . „ „ 171
A Feasant's Housb » i> 181
A ViLlAaB SOKNB .1 II 181
Mt Fbllow Passengbrs on thb "Db Witte" , „ „ 188
OoasAos Oamp on the Manohubian Side or the
Amur „ „ 188
Three Eobbans ,, „ 194
From the Carmaqb Window in Eastern Siberia ,, ,, 194
On the Ussubi Linb „ „ 196
A Waysidb Station ,, ,, 196
OvERiooKiNQ Vladivostok ,, „ 207
The Main Street in yLASiTOSTos , . , ,, „ 207
How I WENT ACROSS MANOHUBIA .... „ ,, 209
A Station in Manchuria „ ., 209
Oarrtimo the Head or a Ohinese Bobber . . ,, ,, 224
A Deoafitatbd Chinaman , . . . . ,, „ 234
The Ohutese Eseoutiokbr ,, ,, 224
DiiAooiKG Deoafitatbd Chinese to Burial . . „ „ 224
Cossacks and a Chinssb Cart ... „ „ 227
A Cossack Guard Station and 'Watch Tower . „ „ 227
Cossacks Guasdinq the Line „ >■ 238
Examinino Permissions to Trayil in MAKOHuroA „ „ 238
xvi LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
The Author as he Travelled over the Hinoan
Mountains To face p. 246
The Post m Manohueia ,< ■> 246
Some Mongols » » 251
A Meal on a Cobneb of the Gobi Desebt . . ,, ,, 2S1
The Goveenob of Alexandrovski and the Chief
Wabdeb ,, „ 260
Bbingino in the Pbisonkbs' Dinneb . . . ,, ,1 260
THBEE PbIBONEBS It » 269
PoLiTiOALs Staeting Up-Countbt , . , . „ „ 269
A Sleeping Boom . ,, ,, 275
Peisonebs at Wobk , . „ „ 275
A Siberian Boad in Winteb ■ . . . . „ „ 279
THE REAL SIBERIA.
CHAPTER I.
THE START FROM MOSCOW.
THE bell in the big stuccoed and whitewashed
Moscow station gave a clang. Thereupon
brawny and black-whiskered men took off their caps,
put their arms about each other's necks, and gave a
brother's kiss upon the lips.
There was uproar. The train for Siberia was
staiting. A bunch of officers, Avoll-set young Russians,
in neat white Unen jackets with gold straps on the
shoulders, crowded a window and laughed good-bjes
to friends.
From the windows of the next car were the uncouth
faces of peasants, their hair tangled and matted, their
red shirts open at the throat. They were stohd and
brutal They were the moudjiks emigrating to the
mysterious, evil-omened Siberia. On the platform
stood their wives — dumpy, unattractive women, in
short skirts, and with gaudy handkerchiefs about
their heads. They did not understand the language of
farewell. With eyes tear-red and with quivering lips
they looked upon the hulking hairy men with the
sleepy animal faces. But they said nothing.
Three mechanics, drink laden, came reeling along,
B
2 THE REAL SIBERIA
bumping everyone with their kits. Their eyes were
glazed, and they grinned slobberingly and lurched like
coal barges beating up against a gale.
The bell clanged twice. Everybody must get
aboard now. Once more the brother's kiss. From
the car window the young fellows got long and ardent
hand grips. They were in the blush of life, and off to
Siberia with laughter in their hearts.
Standing a little back was an ordinary soldier, a
fair- haired lad, slim and beardless. He was at
attention, his heels clapped, his arms taut by his side.
He was more than head and shoulders taller than the
wizened little woman, her tanned old face all seared
with care, who was clutching at him, and kissing him
on the tunic and dulling its whiteness with mother's
tears. And she was praying a mother's prayer.
Clang, clang, clang ! Three times, and all aboard
now.
There was a shrill whistle. The cars creaked and
moved. Everybody, in the train and on the platform,
made the sign of the cross. The perilous unknown
was ahead of them.
Some husky shouts of farewell were thrown from
the windows, and there was some dimness of eyes.
Even a scampering foreigner felt the solemnity of the
occasion. But in a few seconds we were in the sun-
shine of a blazing afternoon, and the train was
lumbering on its way to Siberia. It was Thursday
afternoon, August 22nd, 1901.
This was not the famous Siberian Express about
which so much has been written and which starts
twice a week from Moscow, " the fairest jewel in the
crown of the Czars," for the far-off city of Irkutsk in
THE START FROM MOSCOW. 3
Central Siberia, a continent away indeed, 3,371 miles,
and which is reached in exactly eight days. The
Russians are an enthusiastic and credulous people, and
m all the world they think there is nothing so mag-
nificent as this Siberian Express. They come in their
hundreds to the Moscow station every Tuesday and
Saturday night, the grandees in their furs and their
pearls, the red-shir ted, matted-haired moudjiks, and
the shaven-chinned, American felt-hatted commercial
men who have the spice of the West in their veins,
and they all stand and gaze at the people Siberia-
bound as most of us will look at the first traveller to
Mars. Siberia is a long way off. Has anybody ever
returned from Siberia ? Hearts grow big and words
choke. Tears stain many cheeks. Yet laughter and
merriment rings over sorrow.
Remembering this is slothful Russia and not slap-
dash, bang-about America, it is a luxurious train, is
the Siberian Express, with its electric lights, restau-
rant, hbrary, observation car, bath rooms, ladies'
boudoir, piano, and all that is considered " up-to-date "
in travelling. Europe is now looking towards Siberia
as half a century ago it looked towards Western
America — it is the wheatfield of the world ; it has the
finest grazing to be found in the two hemispheras ;
no horses are like the Siberian horses ; its butter is
shouldering "best Danish" from the market; great
areas yield coal and iron ; its hills ooze gold. There
is a Siberian " boom."
The rich speculators, engineers, Government officials,
Germans searching for trade, to build a bridge or to
open a store, all travel by this train. It is invariably
crowded. You have to sleep four in a coup4, two on
4 TUB REAL SIBERIA.
tlie seats and two on the improTised bunks above. To
be sure of a place you must book weeks ahead.
I had no desire to travel like this. I am a vagabond
fond of taking things slowly. So what did it matter if
I took eight or eighteen or twenty-eight days to reach
Irkutsk ? I had no mining concession. It was the
last thing in my mind to open a store. Mine was but
a mission of curiosity. I wanted to see Russia ; I
wanted to see the poor, crushed, depraved Russian
peasants ; above all I wanted to see Siberia. So I did
what no wise foreigner had ever been known to do
before. I travelled by the ordinary daily train that
jogs along slowly, stopping at the wayside stations,
picking up moudjiks, putting moudjiks down. It
took very much longer, but there was a charm about
that. Besides, it was much cheaper and it required
only a very small bribe pressed into the hand of the
black-whiskered, astrakan-capped conductor to get a
carriage to myself. I spoke four words of Russian,
and I carried all my belongings in a couple of bags.
Off to Siberia!
There is something uncanny in the phrase. The
very word Siberia is one to make the blood run
chilL It smeUs of fetters in the snow. You hear the
thud of the knout on the shoulders of sickened men.
For generations, to whisper Siberia in the ear of a
Russian has been to make the cheek blanch. No one
ever went there but in chains. The haggard men
that ever came back told tales that made listeners
breathe hard.
We have aU supped of Siberian horrors. We
shudder, cry out for their ending, but have a grue-
Bome satisfaction in reading about them.
THE START FROM MOSCOW. 5
Yet Siberia, the land of criminals and exiles, is
pushed into the dusk when we think of Siberia with its
millions of miles of corn-growing land, minerals waiting
to be won, great tracks of country to be populated.
Siberia is the Canada of the eastern world.
For a fortnight before mounting this train I bustled
about St. Petersburg and Moscow seeing Government
officials, seeking advice and information and assist-
ance. And after each interview I had with Ministers
of the Czar my mind reverted to a lady I saw on the
frontier when at Wirballen I entered Russia from
Germany. I recognised her as a fellow-country-
woman : tall, angular, wearing spectacles, a woman ol
uncertain age. There was only one thing on earth
she could be — a governess. Governess was writ large
all over her. I could read her story plain enough.
There was poor pay and hard work at home, and
now, after years of struggle, she was going to Russia
to be English governess to some wealthy man's
children. I am afraid I have the ordinary man's
ungenerosity towards the tribe of governesses, and 1
thought as I looked upon her plainness that she was
a weedy specimen of English womankind.
At St. Petersburg I met officials. Everyone spoke
English. It was not mere courtesy that led them to
speak appreciatively of things English. That kind of
talk is easily to be seen through. But their liking
was honest and deep-seated. They measured things
by English standards.
More than once I remarked, "It seems strange
that you, a Russian, should take such an interest in
English life and methods." The answer was in-
variably the same : " I daresay it does ; but you must
6 THE REAL SIBERIA.
remember that my nursery governess was an English-
woman."
That impressed me. It was not long before I
learned that the kindly regard for English folk you
find among the upper classes of Kussia is to be traced
direct to the influence exercised in the nursery by
spare-figured English governesses.
And in my heart I have apologised to the lady I
saw at Wirballen.
A man I had two talks with was Prince Hilkoff,
Minister of Ways of Communication, the chief of the
railway administration, also of the post roads, rivers,
and canals. When I was first received I found in the
ante-room, awaiting audience, uniformed officials with
rows of orders upon their breasts — a gorgeous, eye-
aching display of picturesque garb. I half anticipated
to find his Excellency in dazzling dress; but I was
greeted by an elderly gentleman in a navy blue lounge
suit, and with the easiest of manners. There was
nothing Kussian or official about him. He looked
American, with his long, strong, bronzed face and
little tuft of beard that the Americans call a goatee.
He spoke English like an American.
" Yes," he said, " I studied engineering at Birken-
head and afterwards in America. It was when I was
a deal younger than I am now. It was at the time
of the liberation of the serfs, and my family and I
didn't see that disputed point exactly in the same light.
So I packed up and went abroad to shift for myself
It was a little rough, but I guess I got over that. I
came back to Russia just when Russia was beginning
to be interested in railways. I got a small position —
oh ! a very small position in the administration."
i -M'tji
T^-^E ROAH TO SIBERIA
MIU I^IAN IS Ni,> I A
TEE STAltT FROM MOSCOW. 7
" And since then ? " I urged.
" Oil, since then," he replied, " I've just worked.
I'm just a working man, you know — a sort of black-
smith. But I never worry. What is the good of
worrjdng ? When my work is done, I like to shut it
right away. Then I play tennis with my children, or
I hunt or fish. That's a great thing I like about
English business men. When their work is finished
it is really finished, and they get out of doors for
exercise. Now, an American can't play golf without
thinking about business. The Americans are a fine
go-ahead people, the most go-ahead in the world,
but if they would just think there was something
else besides business, why I guess they'd get some
real value out of life."
He was very proud of this gi-eat Trans-Siberian lino,
was Prince Hilkoft!
Now the train had stirred to speed, and with a
thump-clang, thump-clang thundered over the metals.
Everyone Avas at the window, with body half hang-
ing out to catch the last gleam of sunlight on the
cupolas of the gilt and bedizened Greek churches
in wonderful Moscow, the great city of the plain,
ancient capital of Muscovy, now blend of garish Tartar
and drab European.
St. Petersburg is too modern, too cosmopolitan to
please eyes fond of the picturesque. The buildings
are usually imitations of something else, and the
mai'ble, not infrequently, is painted plaster. There is
a T-square arrangement of thoroughfares which is
useful, but not pretty. There are the palaces to be
seen. But palaces are the same the world over — the
same endless galleries, with the same giant vases and
8 TEE REAL 8IBEBIA.
gilt bedsteads and slippery floors. Palaces must be
uncomfortable to live in. You cannot put your feet on
the cbairs, and you would probably be decapitated if
you dropped cigar ash on the floor.
Moscow is far better. Here you get the clash of
east and west. It is a city with distinction and
individuality. It is crowded with churches, and the
bells, beaten with wooden hammers, boom the day
long. The style of the churches is Byzantine, with
spiral flowers in flaming reds and greens and yellows.
There is the Kremlin, amazingly attractive and
strange, with old-time grotesqueness.
As I strolled round the Kremlin, I seemed to slip
back to the fantastic architecture in story book
pictures, when I believed fairy tales. Had a fair lady
appeared with a candle-snuffer hat twice as high as
herself and tilted back, and trailing yards of muslin,
I would have accepted it all as perfectly natural.
But dovetailing into and wrapping about the
Tartar city is the strictly modern. There are horse
tramcars in the town, and in the suburbs are whizzing
electric cars that shriek as they tear along. There
are charming gardens where, beneath the trees and
in the candlelight, you may have dinner. You lounge
and dawdle and puff your cigarette and imagine you
are in the Champs £lysees. You understand the
slow tread of civilisation, however, when the orchestra
plays " There will be a hot time in the old town to-
night " — a belated air, but reminiscent of home.
You get the English papers in Moscow about a
week late. Should there be anything interesting
about Russia, which, of course, you particularly want
to read, you wUl find the column smeared out with
TEE START FROM MOSCOW. 9
the toughest of blacking. I have friends who confess
to making periodic attempts to wash that blacking.
They are never successful. The cartoon in Punch
is frequently obliterated by a black smudge. A lady
I know received a London illustrated paper. A half-
page picture was blotted. Her innate feminine
curiosity was aroused. She did her best to obliterate
the obliteration. She failed. She was happily ac-
quainted with an Englishman in diplomatic service
who received his newspapers uncensored. She
hastened to look at his paper. Her inquisitiveness
was thereupon instantly appeased. The picture was
an advertisement of the Czar receiving, with open
hands and undoubted satisfaction, a box of much
boomed pills manufactured in the neighbourhood of
St. Helens, Lancashire !
All through that first hot afternoon the train went
grudgingly along, as though it were loath to move
Siberia-wards. It was made up of corridor carriages,
first class painted blue, second class yellow, third
class green.
There must be fifty little towns within fifty miles
of Moscow. The train stopped at every one of them,
sometimes for only five minutes, more often for twenty,
and once for an hour and a half
Everybody tumbled out on the platform, a motley
throng. The men wore the conventional pancake-
topped and peaked caps, and without exception top-
boots, very soft about the ankle, so the leather clung
in creases. The difference in the garb between the
better class and poorer class Russian is in the matter
of shirt. The better class Russian favours a shirt of
soft tone, a puce, a grey, and now and then a white,
10 TEE REAL SIBEEIA.
and he tucks it away like a decorous European. The
poorer Russian has a shirt of such glaring redness
that, be it as dirty as it might, its flaming hue is
never lost. He wears it hanging outside his trousers
as though it were an embryo kilt.
As evening closes in and the train trundles over a
prairie I see the meagre harvest has been garnered.
There are no hedges, hardly a tree. It is possible to
see all round, as though to the edge of the world, and
that is not more than two miles away. The roads
are ribbony tracks across the waste. Far off are
awkward V-shaped carts, each making a huge wake of
dust. A greyness hangs over the earth. Like the
white sails of a ship looming out of a sea haze, a white
object pierces the gloom. Nearer you see it is the
cupola of the village church, always a massive, im-
posing building, whitewashed. The village is like
a hem of rubbish thrown about.
There is the sadness of the sea on a plain that has
no break in the horizon. As night closes a cold wind
soughs.
The railway line stretches endlessly behind; it
stretches endlessly in front. The train is like a fly
trailing across a hemisphere.
Every verst there is a rude cabin made of logs,
painted yellow. In each cabin is a peasant, and some-
times a wife and daughter. As the train comes along
a little green flag must be shown to prove the line is
clear. Each cabin is within sight of the next, a verst
ahead, and the one behind. And these little green
flags stretch from Moscow to the Pacific coast. It is
usually the mother or the daughter who shows the flag.
They are stunt women in scant clothing and bare feet.
THE START FROM MOSCOW. 11
Only occasionally is the little banner unfurled.
Generally it is wrapped round the stick and tied, and
is held out just for form's sake. They are old and
worn, many of the banners, and, like some umbrellas,
look well while folded, but would show a tattered face
if unfurled. When darloiess comes it is a green lamp
that is displayed.
The train creaks and groans and growls. On the
engine front are three great lights, as if it would
search a path through the wilderness. So we crawl
into the night on our way to Siberia.
12
CHAPTER II.
OVER THE URAL MOUNTAINS.
That first night, with a single blinking candle for
illumination, I lay on an improvised bed I made
mj'self, listening to the regular jog-thud, jog-thud, of
the carriages over the metals. Twice the conductor —
a stout, black-bearded, mayoral gentleman in military
kind of frockcoat, with a white and purple tassel on
the shoulder — came with a couple of supernumeraries,
thinner men, to open and shut the doors for him, and
inspected my ticket. There must be an odour of
large tips about the foreigner. Anyway, he received
my ticket with a bow, examined it carefully as though
it were the first thing of its kind he had ever seen, and
then handed it back to me with another bow.
I was glad when the weary dawn arrived. I was
gladder still when the train pulled up at a station, and
I joined in the dash and the scramble towards the
buffet, where scalding tea was to be had and mince-
meat stuffed dumplings, satisfying, and most indi-
gestible, to be bought for a trifle.
How the Russian eats ! He has no fixed mealtime,
but takes food when he is hungry, which is often. He
has about six square meals a day. He has at least a
dozen lunches, a little bit of salt fish or some caviare,
a piece of bread and cheese, an onion and some red
cabbage, a sardine and a slice of tomato, all washed
down with many nips of fiery vodki. He never
passes a station without a glass of tea — marvellous
OVJSB THE UBAL MOUNTAINS. 13
tea, with a thin slice of lemon floating in it. I got a
fondness for Russian tea, and foreswore bemillced
decoctions for ever.
Russians have a sufficient dash of the East in them
to be careless about time. Whether they arrive at
their destination to-morrow or next week is a matter
of indifference. But the inner man must be attended
to. So at every station there is a buffet, sometimes
small, sometimes large, but always good, clean, and
painted white. There are one, two, or three long
tables, with clean cloths, with serviettes covering
slices of white and Russian rye bread ; plants are on
the table, and are circled by rows of wine bottles, with
the price written on the label. On a side table are
hot dishes, half fowls, beef steaks, meat pies, basins of
soup. There are plenty of waiters dressed as are
Avaiters in PiccadUly hotels. Everything is bright and
neat. And this is at wayside stations with not a
house withm sight ; with, indeed, nothing but heaving
dreary prairie around. It is the same all along the
lina There is a difference in the size of the buffets,
but never in excellence. I am enthusiastic about
these Russian refreshment-rooms. And if ever the
Muscovite thanks the Great White Czar for anything
he should thank him for the food on the railways.
Foreigners grumble about the slowness of the Russian
trains. They are not particularly slow. The time is
spent at the railway stations while the passengers eat.
And while Russians have appetites in proportion to
the size of their country those waits are not likely to
be shortened.
Dragging the train on which I travelled were two
engines, black and greasy, and with huge fuimel-
14 TIIJH BEAL SIBERIA.
shaped chimneys. They consumed an enormous
quantity of wood. But there was no scarcity, for at
every station there are stacks of wood sawn into
convenient chunks.
At one end of the train was the post-waggon, with
two brass horns ornamenting its outer panels, and a
green painted letter-box, bearing a picture of a sealed
letter hanging outside. In other lands the mail is
sent by the fastest trains. In Kussia it is sent by the
approximately slow.
All the other cars were for passengers — one car
painted blue for first-class passengers, two painted
yellow for second-class, and seven painted green for
third-class passengers.
So the majority were third-class, a higgledy-pig-
gledy community of decent-looking artisans and their
wives and hordes of children wandering East to settle,
and a fair sprinkling of harum-scarum young fellows,
always smoking cigarettes and diving into every buffet
and shouting for pevo (beer), and making mock
attempts to pitch one another out of the window.
Themass, however, of my fellow travellers were the
moudjiks, shaggy men with big sheep-skin hats that
gave them a ferocious air, wearing rough-spun cloaks
and often with sacking tied around their feet instead
of boots. The women were fat and plain, though
the colours of their dresses were often startling in
brilliancy Gaudy orange was popular.
The lavatory accommodation, even in a first-class
car, was limited, and as it was for the joint use of both
sexes it was a cause of frequent embarrassmei^ts.
Ablutions had to be performed singly, and for
two hours each morning there was a little crowd of
OVER TEE URAL MOUNTAINS. 15
unwashed and semi-dressed men and women standing
about the corridor, all smoking cigarettes, women as
well as men, and each eyeing their neighbour with
side glances of distrust lest there was some under-
hand move to get possession of the lavatory first.
Among the provoking things of life is the way
Russian hotels and lavatories on Russian trains
supply you with water to cleanse yourself. There is
no tap to turn on the water, but there is a button,
which, on pressing with your hand, releases a trickle.
The moment you cease pressing the button the
supply is cut off. When you are actually pressing
the water trails along your elbow and soaks your shirt
sleeves, or douses your clothes and boots. The only
refuge is selfishness.
So I plugged the basin outlet with a cork and
held the button up with a lead pencil till the basin
Avas fuU. Then I washed. Thus the water supply
soon gave out, and I picked up several expletives in
Russian from my fellows. And after all, perhaps,
they didn't mind. Before the end of my journey I
came to have a liking for the Russians. But in the
course of my vagabond life I have been in over thirty
different countries and I've never met a people who
get along so well on a minimum amount of water for
washing purposes as do the Russians.
All the third-class cars were grimy. The woodwork
was painted drab inside, but there was not a vestige of
cushion.
I spent hours among these emigrants and found
them interesting. They were horribly dirty, and as
they liked to have the windows closed, despite the
temperature, the cars reeked with odour. They
16 TEE BEAL SIBERIA.
carried all their worldly possessions with them, some
foul sleeping rugs and some bundles of more foul
clothing, which was spread out on the hard seats to
make them a httle less hard. Bread, tea, and melons
was the chief food. There were great chunks of sour
black bread, and at every halt kettles were seized, and
a rush made to the platform, where the local peasant
women had steaming samovars, and sold a kettleful of
boiling water for a half-penny and a water melon as
big as your head for a penny.
Besides bread-eating, and scattering half of it on
the floor, and munching melons and making a mesa
with the rind, and splashing the water about when
tea-making, there was the constant smoking of cigar-
ettes. A peasant might not be able to afford a himk
of bread, but he had a supply of cigarettes. They
are tiny, unsatisfying things, half cardboard tube,
provide three modest puffs, and are then to be thrown
away. You could smoke a hundred a day and
deserve no lecture on being a slave to tobacco.
The emigrants were happy — there was no doubt
about that. Though the faces of the men were heavy
and animal, guile was not strong about them. The
cars rang with their coarse laughter.
Late one night I visited them. At the end of each
car was a candle flickering feebly. The place was aU
gaunt shadow. The men lay back loungingly, like
weary labourers caught with sleep in the midst of toU.
On the seat beside the man, huddled up, with her face
hid in her arms, was the wife. Lying on the floor
with a bundle of rags as pillow, were the children. I
had to step over a grey-whiskered old man, who was
curled up in the gangway— a feeble, tottering creature
THE POPULAR IPIA AL.OLil" TliAVtlL IN SIBERIA
THE REAL W '\^ TO 1 K-W ERSL SILU
OVJBB THE VBAL MOUNTAINS. 17
to emigrate. Close to the door was an old woman,
her face hanging forward and hidden, and her long,
bare, skinny arms drooping over her knees. It was aU
very pathetic in that dim, uncertain candle flare.
There was no sound but the snore of deep-sleeping
men and the slow rumble of the moving train.
I stood looking upon the woeful picture and think-
ing. Then a child cried, and its mother turned testily
and slapped it.
The second day out from Moscow it became dull
and cold, and a bleak wind scoured the plain. There
was little but a sandy wilderness. The gale sounded
round the crawling train with eerie moan. It picked
up the sand and engulfed us in a brown gritty cloud.
Everything in the carriage became thick with dust.
It was to be tasted in the mouth and felt achingly in
the eyes. To gaze from the vrindows was to look
into a scudding fog that curved thick from the earth
and thinned skywards. The train lumbered creak-
ingly-
Suddenly there was a lull. Either we were running
out of the sandstorm or it had spent itself. The rain
came in great drops, pat, pat, pat, for a long time.
Then swish came the deluge, and the carriages rattled
with the tattoo of the downpour. When it had passed
the air was sweet to breathe. The sun shone clear
over the refreshed land. I set about with an old towel
to thrash some of the grime from my belongings.
We traversed the Volga in the early afternoon.
We went at a crawl over the great square network of
a bridge perched high on stone pillars, whilst all
devout Russians on the train stood by the windows
ardently crossing themselves. It is a wide muddy
18 T3E REAL SIBERIA
river, flowing sluggishly, and draining a stretch of
country twice as large as Great Britain.
There were two steamers surging a way up, and
great islands of rafts were floating down on the tide.
When the train halted it was easy to hear the quaint,
rhythmic oar-beating songs of the Volga boatmen.
They had brought their rafts from the north, beyond
Nijni Novgorod, the city of the great Fair, and it
would be months yet before they reached their
journey's end, down in the wild country of Astrakan,
on the Caspian Sea.
Towards sundown we grunted into the bustling
toAvn of Samara, and here we had an hour and a-half
to wait. The platform was all excitement and uproar.
Samara is on the Volga, and a flock of folk from the
north and south had come by the waterway to catch
the Siberian train.
There were officials to take up posts in the far
interior. There were a lot of slothful Tartars, sallow-
skinned, slit-eyed, wisp-bearded, who had slouched
their way from Mongolia and were now slouching
back. There were fine-set Cossacks, carrying them-
selves proudly, their white sheep-skin hats perched
jauntily, a double row of silver cartridge cases across
their plum-coloured coats, that faU from the waist like
a quilted petticoat, and each wore long riding boots of
the softest red morocco. Above aU were more peasants,
unkempt and ragged, bent beneath bundles, driven
hither and thither like sheep, mostly apathetic, crowd-
ing into the already overcrowded waggons, and
camping on any spare patch of floor.
Again we went snorting across the steppes. Now
and then we ran through clumps of darkened pine.
THE GREAT BRIDGE ACROSS THE VOLGA
OVEB THE URAL MOUNTAINS. 19
Forest fires have been raging during the summer, and
hundreds of villages were laid waste. The refugees
had hastened to the railway line, expecting there they
would receive assistance. For twelve miles at one
place there was a string of camps.
It was evening as we passed, and the glow of the
camp fires on the lanky peasants, as they stood and
shouted while the train puffed by, made a striking
scene.
Next morning, as we rolled towards the Urals, the
country became undulating and passing pretty.
There was plenty of woodland and herbage, and many
a time it was easy to imagine a stretch of English
scenery on a large scale.
Now and then we scudded by a village. You can't
imagine how ugly a village may be till you have seen
one in Russia. They are all the same. The houses
are of unpaintod wood, all one storey, and usually
built awry. They are in disrepair. There is always
a yard, but it is ankle-deep in muck, and the pigs
have free entrance to the house. The fencing is half
broken away. There is usually one street, a hundred
yards wide, but it is kept in no order. It is axle-deep
in dust in summer, and in winter it is axle-deep in
mire.
One thing I noticed the first day out of Moscow,
and I kept noticing it right across Siberia till Vladi-
vostock on the Pacific coast was reached — how seldom
any of the stations are near towns. You constantly
see a town seven or eight miles off, but not once in
six times does the line run near. If you ask a
Russian the reason he will laugh. Then he will tell
you. When the line was planned the engineers made
20 TEE REAL SIBERIA.
millions of roubles by blackmailing the towns on the
route ! " You give us so much money and the line
will run quite close to you ; don't, and we wUl take
the line as far away as we can." The Kussian official,
it is said, grows rich not on his salary, but on bribery.
Many an official does not deny it. It is as well under-
stood as that he must wear uniform. If you start
preaching morality among public men he answers:
" You foreigners do the same, but you are not so open
about it as we are."
There is very little cutting or bank building to
make the line level. Where the country undulates
the hne undulates also. For miles it is a series of
billowy mounds.
The train was heavy, and where there was any
incline the two engines grunted like broken-winded
horses as at a snail's pace of about three miles an
hour it reached the top. Then, to change the simile,
it was like a cyclist who spied a long declining sweep
before him. Steam was shut off, and with a burr and
a roar the train " coasted " at a dashing, reckless forty
miles an hour. When it reached the dip the engines
started grinding and panting, trying to keep up speed
to help on the next rise. The endeavour was only
partially successful. We were soon down to a panting
crawl again.
For an hour and a half we halted at Ufa, the most
prettily situated town since leaving Moscow. It is
buUt on the side of a nicely wooded hill, and neat
villas look down from the heights. It was Sunday
evening, August 25th, and, as the passing of the
Siberian train is one of the excitements, the station
was crowded with townsfolk. If you will look at a
OVER THE UBAL MOUNTAINS. 21
map, Ufa, just to the west of the Urals, looks a long
way from civilisation. Yet the better class folk
sauntering about this Sunday evening were very little
differently dressed from what you may see in any
provincial EngUsh town any Sunday evening.
But, oh ! the number of officials. You never turn
without elbowing an official. Half the population of
Russia seems made up of officials engaged in govern-
ing the other half. Everybody in lower rank salutes
everybody in higher rank, and the salute must be
returned. Equals ignore one another. I would
hesitate to make a wild guess how many times a
Russian gendarme raises his hand to the salute in the
course of a day. It must run into the far hundreds,
and get very wearisome. If a superior speaks to him
he keeps his hand at the salute aU the time.
As soon as we left Ufa we started climbing into the
Ural Mountains. Every Russian I had met broke
into adjectives when informed I proposed to cross
the Urals. They were beautiful, lovely, picturesque,
magnificent, grand ! The Russian, however, is no
authority on scenery. He, of course, judges by con-
trast, and naturally when you have spent years on a
desert you regard a hillock with some trees as
charming. The scenery in the Urals is beautiful
because you have travelled daj-s on a featureless plain.
The hills are humped and broken, and the train
curves over their shoulders among masses of trees
with leaves splashed with the rich tints of autumn.
Also there were places where for miles the Hne
hugged grey roclcs. It was a peaceful Sunday evening
with a crimson and saffron sunset as we curved
upwards.
22 TEE BBAL SIBERIA.
It was all welcome to the eye, and reminded me
of parts of Derbyshire. I stood out on the gangway
smoking my pipe, and tried to realise I was thousands
of miles from England.
But what a part these Urals have played in the
story of mankind ! For thousands of miles they run
north and south, a wall dividing Europe and Asia.
You have only to look into faces of men who come
from a race born east of the Urals and then into the
faces of men born west of them to understand how
divided is the human family.
In the far-off times the Tartar hordes swept from
their heights carrying slaughter into Europe. Right
through Central Europe you get a glimpse of a
Mongol eye, you are brought into contact with a
trait of Eastern character, and you see the heritage of
the Khans.
We had Tartars on this train, but they were slither-
heeled and fawning, and tramped the corridors want-
ing to sell sponges and slippers and gew-gaws. And
the race they conquered centuries ago had now turned
the tide, and had driven this iron wedge of a railroad
due east to the waters of the Pacific. The Tartar
cringes to the Russian.
We were on the Urals' top at midnight. Asia did
not greet us kindly. A fierce hurricane struck the
invading train. I lay awake for hours listening to the
Yalkyrie shrieks of the storm and the bullet pelts of
the driven rain against the carriages. In the tearful
morning, with black clouds trailing the earth, we
rumbled down to Chelyabinsk Beyond lay Siberia !
23
CHAPTER III.
THROUGH A GREAT LONE LAND.
I SAW Chelyabinsk under difficulties. We were all
turned out o'i the train — which \Yas an excellent thing
to do, for the cars were in need of a wash and brush
up — and there was a wait of five hours before another
train was got ready in which we could proceed to
Central Siberia.
It was raining in torrents. Everybody had an
enormous excess of baggage, and as there is no left-
luggage office at Chelyabinsk everything was carried
or dragged or thrown into the buffet — all except the
belongings of the emigrants, who camped on the
platform, sitting on bundles and spreading their evil-
odoured sheepskin coats to act as waterproofs.
I have joined in a scramble for food at an English
railway station, but that was the decorum of a court
reception compared with the fight at Chelyabinsk.
Though there was so long to wait, we were all in
as much hurry as if the train started within ten
minutes.
I would have fared badly had I not made the
acquaintance of a pleasant, stout and elderly baroness,
who was on her way to visit her married son Hving at
Eltaterinburg, on the eastern slopes of the Urals. I
had seen her for half a day standing in the corridor
smoking cigarettes. The car corridor has no extra
width, and when I tried to pass the lady we jammed.
It was awkward, and I grunted.
24 THE REAL SIBERIA.
"Ah, you are an Englishman," she exclaimed.
Then vdth a wrench we tore ourselves asunder; I
raised my hat and she bowed, and we exchanged cards.
We became capital friends. I presented her with
some English novels I had in my bag, and she
presented me with a tin teapot. It is usual for every-
one to make their own tea on Russian trains. She
also gave me tea and sugar. Thereupon I proceeded
to make the floor of my carriage in a mess with
crunched sugar, and my papers became disreputably
marked with tea stains. Amateur housekeeping in a
railway carriage has its drawbacks.
My thanks were as profuse as I could make them,
and I asked the baroness how I could reheve my
obligations. " Give me a box of your EngHsh wax
matches," she said; and I gave her the only box I
had. An hour later she sent me fifty of her cigarettes.
She told me she loved the EngHsh. She wore an
English cloth cap and carried a stick, and was much
like an English country gentlewoman.
When she found the buffet crowded at Chelyabinsk
she took it as a personal insult, called the manager,
and spoke to him vigorously. So we got a special
table, and though we had been informed there wasn't
another chair in the place two must have been
speedily manufactured, for they were forthcoming
instantly. I saw her to her train for Ekaterinburg,
and we parted with expressions of mutual esteem.
Then I explored Chelyabinsk.
Conceive a field in which a cattle show has been
held for a week, and it has been raining all the week.
That will give you some idea of Chelyabinsk. The
buildings were sheds, and the roadways mire.
THROUGH A GBEAT LONE LAND. 25
And yet it is a place that has been muttered in
tears for centuries. All conYicts and exiles for Siberia
were marched over the Urals to Chelyabinsk. It was
the dividiug station, one gang going to the arid north,
and another gang going to the mines in the far east ;
others condemned to labour on the waterways — all
expelled from Russia, with the piled-up horrors of
Siberia before them.
Siberia, however, is to be no longer the dumping
ground for criminals. Siberia indeed intends to
become respectable this century. It is crying out in
protest, as Australia cried out to England years ago.
The Czar and his Imperial Council have the matter in
consideration, and before my hair grows grey the
terrors of Siberia will be topics limited only to the
pages of novels.
All State-aided immigrants coming to Siberia enter
this land by the gate of Chelyabinsk. Their papers
have to be examined, and they themselves have to be
drafted into groups to be taken off, in charge of an
ofSQcial, to the land allotted to them. All this occupies
time. And time is no value in Siberia. So the wait
is for a week, ten days, two weeks, even six weeks.
Spring is when the great incursion takes place. I
was told that early that year (1901) as many as a
dozen trains a day came over the Urals laden with
emigrants, and that in May there were as many as
10,000 peasants living ia the sheds erected for them
and feeding at the State kitchens till they could be
sent to the interior.
Comparatively speaking, the emigrants in the
autumn are few. I talked to one group. There was
an old man and an old woman, a youngish woman.
26 TEE REAL SIBERIA.
and three children, the eldest not more than four
years. They were sitting in the drenching rain, the
elders munching black bread and onions, and the two
children that could toddle dancing in a muddy
puddle as happy as could be. I asked the old man if
he hadn't got too far on in life to come to Siberia to
face its fierce winters. He said he and his wife were
going to live with their son, who had come to Siberia
in the spring with a little money. The Government
had given him land. Now he had a home ready, and
he had sent for his wife and children and his mother
and father.
Again it was a fight, like an excursion crowd,
climbing into the train bound for the interior of
Siberia. There were more folks than there was room
for. I believe I was the only first-class passenger, but
the wily second-class passengers, who understood the
art of travelling, made no haste, allowed all the
second-class places to be filled up, and then insisted,
as they are entitled to do under Russian railway regula-
tions, on travelling first. They stormed my particular
stronghold, but as foreigners are supposed to ooze
roubles, a six-foot-four conductor cleared them out
and locked me in.
We were all in our places a full hour before the
train started. I kicked my toes to keep myself warm.
It was a bedraggled leaden day, and my window
looked upon the goods yard, where stood rows of
waggons. It was like a delay on a branch line in a
colliery district.
At last came the clang of the bell, twice: "Get
ready," three times : " Off you go," and the engine,
with three preparatory shrieks, lumbered off with us
WHENEVER THE TRAIN HALTED THEIM- WAS OPPORTUNITY FOR A
PROMFNADF-
THIRD CLASS PASSENGERS
THROUGH A QBE AT LONE LAND. 27
across two thousand miles of land so flat that there
wasn't a rise the whole distance that would serve as a
tee-ing ground at golf.
The country was featureless. Here and there were
clumps of silver-limbed larch which broke the mo-
notony. But we ran for hours at a time with Uttle
else taller than grass blades between us and the
horizon.
If you have been on a steamer in a dead calm, and
seen nothing but a plain to the edge of the world, and
heard nothing but the thump-thump of the engines,
you will understand exactly how traversing Western
Siberia impresses one : nothing but sun-scorched grass
and deep grunting of the engine surging through the
wilderness. There is one stretch of line without a
yard of curve for eighty miles.
The line is raised about a foot above the level of
the land, and there is no fence to protect it. I could
see from the digging on either side, to obtain this
slight bank, that the soil was black and rich. What
the British corn-grower will say when Siberia is
populated and given up to the production of cheap
wheat he himself best knows.
It is a wonderful grazing country. Of that there
is no doubt. I saw herds of horses and cows. One
young Siberian, whipping up cattle, challenged our
train to a race. That he won, amid the plaudits of us
all, does not prove so much the swiftness of his horses
as the slowness of our train. Fifteen miles an hour
was its top speed.
Very seldom was a house to be seen except the
guard huts stationed every verst. All the men in
charge were good-conduct convicts. The stations
28 TEE REAL SIBERIA.
were at long intervals, perhaps every twenty miles.
There was, of course, the station building, neat and
yellow painted. There was the inevitable water
tower. In the background were one or two official-
looking, yellow-hued, one-storey houses. That was
aU.
No, not alL For, as it is the proper thing for every-
body to carry their own tea and sugar, there was on
every platform a great cauldron of a samovar, where
rich and poor alike could help themselves to hot
water. Also, on one side was a long covered stall,
where the local peasantry — where they came from
I've no idea — sold cooked fowls, hot or cold, as you
liked, for a shilling, very hot dumplings, with hashed
meat and seasoning inside, for twopence-halfpenny,
huge loaves of new made bread, bottles of beer, pats
of excellent butter, pails of milk, apples and grapes,
and fifty other things. Passengers loaded themselves
with provender at the stall, and ate picnic fashion in
the carriages until the next station was reached.
There it all began over again.
Wasn't a journey through this great lone land
dreary ? Of course it was. The eye began to ache
with the monotony of the horizon line, and peasants
ceased to be picturesque because every group at every
station was exactly like the other groups.
Yet, as the days passed and we went rolling on and
on across a sea of prairie, with nothing before but
two threads of steel stretching over the edge of the
world, and nothing behind but two threads of steel
stretching back to eternity, a glimmer of conscious-
ness how big Siberia is, and what this thread of railway
means to Russia, crept into the mind.
THBOUGH A GBBAT LONE LAND. 29
I got tired reading my novels. So I went and sat
in the gangway and under the spell of the wide waste —
so that the train, while crunching and grunting along,
always seemed to be in the very middle of it — my
thoughts strayed vagrant through all I had read about
this mysterious land of Siberia. And there sprung
up the name of Yermak. Yermak was a kind of
Alfred the Great, with a difference. In the beginning
he, like many other empire-founders, was a freebooter.
He was a pirate on the Volga. He seized boats and
their contents, and cut the throats of the crews. It
was, therefore, but natural he and his companions
were chased by the troops of Ivan the Terrible to the
Urals. Yermak, however, was befriended by a great
merchant, who knew there were wonderful sables to
be got on the far side of the hills. It was on New
Year's Day, 1581, that Yermak and his Cossacks set
off. For years they fought and raided and traded.
All his men were lulled in time, and Yermak himself
was drowned in the Irtish while trying to escape an
old Tartar enemy. But he had captured Siberia for
Russia. Ivan, who had despatched soldiers to hang
him, sent, before the end came, the Imperial pardon,
the title of prince, and a robe that had rested on his
own shoulders. There was a dash and daring in
Yermak's character that appeals to the imagination.
He is the national hero, and his banner hangs in the
cathedral of Tomsk.
So, as we rolled across the prairie in corridor cars
and caught sight, now and then, of the old foot road —
nothing but a rutted track, hardly ever used since the
coming of the train — I let my fancy play on the times
of long ago, when adventurous traders came here after
30 THE BEAL SIBERIA.
the precious sable, fought with the tribes, died in the
snow, ate one another from brute hunger, and then 1
thought how many a weary procession of convicts had
trudged across the steppes, taking two years to accom-
plish a journey the Siberian express wiU now do in a
fortnight. I confess the railway, a twin thread of steel
spreading over the continent, began to fascinate me as
nothing had done for a long time.
Here is a land, one and a-half times as large as
Europe — forty times, indeed, as big as the United
Kingdom — that has lain dormant through the ages,
but is at last being tickled into life, as it were, by the
railway, as a giant might be aroused from slumber by
a wisp. Until ten years ago, when the building of the
line began, there were more people in London alone
than in all Siberia. Even now there are only ten
millions of inhabitants, one person to every two square
miles, and out of every hundred persons ninety-three
are men. Half the people to-day are convicts or the
descendants of convicts.
Looked at from the rear window of the tail car,
the railway does not signify much. And yet never
since the Great Wall of China was built has there
been such a thing accomplished by the hand of man.
It is 5,449 miles long, and cost 85 millions of pounds.
The first sod of the line was turned in 1891 by the
present Czar when Grand Duke Nicholas. In nine
years 3,375 miles were laid, including thirty miles of
bridges, several of enormous height and length. The
Great Canadian Pacific line, under far more favourable
circumstances, took ten years to build 2,290 miles.
By dividing the work into sections the Trans-Siberian
line, year in and year out, was buUt at the rate of
OMSK STATION.
CADETS AT OMSK.
THBOVGH A GREAT LONE LAND. 31
about a mile a day. Tlie mind begins to be confused
when it tries to grasp what this means.
Then the traffic. The main object Russia had in
making the line was military, so that in time of war
she might have a quick way of throwing her hundreds
of thousands of troops into China or into her great
port of Vladivostock on the Pacific. Immigration,
commerce, and the development of Siberia came as
an after-thought. In 1895, when the line was opened
only as far as Central Siberia, the number of
passengers was just over two hundred thousand. In
1900 there were a million and a half passengers —
seven times as many.
But the soUtude of this great lone land laid hold
on one. It is an ocean of parched grass land, silent,
awesome. And yet surely some day it will flourish,
and be bountiful to the earth !
32
CHAPTER IV,
IN A SIBERIAN TOWN.
It was on the night of Wednesday, August 28th —
after I had watched the sun set like a huge crimson
balloon behind the line to the far rear of us — that the
conductor came and informed me we would be at
Omsk within the hour.
I intended to halt there for a day. So I threw
my belongings together — not forgetting to tie my
clattering metal teapot, the gift of the baroness, to
the handle of my kit-bag — and then looked out the
window. We were going at a dead crawl. But far
ahead I could see the moon-like glow of many electric
lights. We rumbled across a huge girder bridge, 700
yards long, spanning the Irtish — the mast gleams
of many boats at anchor, and the red and green
lights of a steamer churning the water to a quay
side, showing far below — and we ran into a big,
brilliantly lighted station, crowded with people
and with the grey and red of military uniform
everywhere.
Before the train came to a standstill a hungry
pack of blue-bloused, white-aproned porters mounted
the train and literally fought with one another for
the privilege of carrying passengers' baggage, and
receiving the consequent tip. My two bags were
enough for two ordinary porters. But my gentle-
man wouldn't hear of another porter helping,
IN A SIBERIAN TOWN. 33
and barked savagely at anyone -who offered assist-
ance.
There were other folk getting on at Omsk ; plenty
of people going east, and throngs who had come to
meet or see friends off. There was a well-lit
dining-room, and conventional waiters were scurry-
ing with hot plates, soups, and tea, and there was the
pop of bottles everywhere.
And this in the heart of Siberia, I thought ! I
couldn't get myself to realise it. Apart from details
I might have been landing at a civilised place Hke
York. I approached the stationmaster and asked
him in my fumbUng Russian to recommend me to
the best hotel in Omsk. He gave a snap of his
fingers and instantly there appeared an hotel porter
in dark blue coat edged with gold lace, and the name
of an hotel on his cap in gold letters. He spoke
German, which is the commercial language of Russia.
In two minutes my baggage had been piled on a
droshki, and with a whoop from the driver to his
horse we set off.
I have before referred to the curious fact that
hardly ever is a station close to a town. Omsk does
not depart from the rule, and therefore Omsk station ,
is three miles from Omsk itself There was no regular
roadway, but a stretch of ground some three hundred
yards wide, bumpy and dusty, and with great pools
of slush.
The droshki I was in was a real droshki The
thing they call a droshki in Petersburg is a sort of
abortive Victoria. The genuine article has a humped-
up seat with no back, so that every bump you are
jolted in a way to make your bones rattle, and you
D
34 TEE REAL SIBERIA.
are in constant imminent peril of being pitched into
the adjoining pool.
At one violent lurch off went a bag of mine into
the mud. I tried to be indignant, but the driver,
as he went back, only laughed and exclaimed,
" Nitchevo ! " — a word which takes the Russian happily
through life, and means "What does it matter;
nothing matters ; why worry ? "
It was midnight, and pitch dark. The horse,
though a sorry animal, could go well — ^perhaps
because its stable was at Omsk ; and we jolted on,
far ahead of anyone else. We were tearing across a
bleak and muddy plain. I addressed my driver, a
hulking fellow, as " My little dove ! " which is the
proper thing to call your coachman in Russia when
you want to please him, though he was as much like
a dove as I am like a man-o'-war. He was delighted,
and whacked the horse again.
Omsk looked as though it had gone to bed. It
was like a big village, with the streets very wide and
uneven, and most of the houses one-storey and ram-
shackle. There were tipsy wooden posts at the
corners, and on their summits were flickering little
back-kitchen kind of oil lamps. Not a soul was to
be seen.
Suddenly there was a clatter — clatter — clatter —
clatter of a wooden rattle. I had not heard that
sound since I was in Western China. Siberia is next-
door neighbour to China. I knew what it was. It
was the poHceman on his rounds. In England we
make our constables wear rubber-soled boots at night
so they may move about stealthily and surprise
thieves. In Siberia the police keep the rattles going,
IN A SIBERIAN TOWN. 35
so the thieves have full •warning when the guardian
of the peace is approaching !
You can't convince a Siberian any more than you
can a Chinese that the thing is stupid. " Ours is the
best plan," says the Siberian, "for it gives householders
confidence that the police are about."
So I reached the hotel, a big barn of a place, bare
and cold. But I got quite a passable bedroom — though
the springs of the bed were like those in a lodging-
house sofa — and after a wash I sought the restaurant.
It was a big room, well lighted with giant lamps.
On the centre table were two imitation palms. On
the little side table were vases with Httle bonnet-shop
flowers — an attempt to make the room cheerful.
Then I sat down to a tired Britisher's supper of steak,
chipped potatoes, and bottled beer. And I was in the
wilderness of Siberia !
A few years ago Omsk was no more than a village,
though the seat of Government of the steppe terri-
tories was there, with one or two big whitewashed
official buildings. The rest, however, was a cluster of
huts. It was a post station where horses were
changed by travellers, aad where gangs of chained
criminals were divided and sent to various regions.
But no manacled prisoners have been marched
through its streets for four years now. There is a
prison, but it is retained for local wrong-doers. Now
and then a train, iron-built and all the windows
heavUy barred, grunts through Omsk station with the
faces of brute murderers and political prisoners
peering out. But that is seldom.
The town is not unlike a West American settle-
ment. It is in a raw unfinished slate. Huge hand-
36 TEE REAL SIBERIA.
some buildings are in course of erection, but round
about are rude log shanties. The finest structures
are the churches and the breweries.
The Irtish Kiver is alongside. I went aboard a
passenger steamer which plies between Semipalatin,
not far from the Chinese frontier, and Obdorsk, within
the range of the Arctic Circle. There were excellent
cabins, a long dining room, and a comfortably
furnished sitting room. Such fine waterways are the
Obi and the Irtish, the latter a tributary of the other,
that every summer one or more steamers from
London, which have come round by the North Cape
and skirted the foot of Novaia Zemlia, drop their
anchors at Omsk, bringing Enghsh wares and taking
back wheat and skins.
The main street is broad. There are several large
stores. The church of St. Nicholas is an imposing
bulb-towered edifice of bedizened Byzantian archi-
tecture.
It was a holy day when I was at Omsk — they
have about 200 holy days a year in the Russian
Empire, when no work can be done — and I went to
see the church just as the congregation was dispersing.
The ladies were more or less fashionably dressed
in bright summer costumes and beflowered hats, and
had gay parasols. Summer dresses and parasols
in Siberia — there was something incongruous in the
idea !
" That," I was told, as I stood watching, " is one of
" the evidences of civilisation coming to Omsk. Four
years ago the women — ^like that old lady — never
appeared in the streets in other than a plain dark-
coloured dress and a black shawl tied about the
THE CHURCH OF ST. NICHOLAS, OMSK.
THE CEREMONY OF BLESSING THE WATERS
IN A SIBERIAN TOWN. 37,
head. But since the coming of the railway there has
been a great influx of men wanting to start business
and they have been followed by their wives and
daughters."
The old wooden theatre that did duty three years
back is already sneered at, and the erection of a fine
opera house is in progress.
" Yes," said the local resident showing me round,
"theatrical companies come out to Omsk They're
not good, but they are willing to do anything. I have
seen ' Hamlet ' one night, and the next night the same
company has given us the opera ' Faust.' "
There are 50,000 people in Omsk, and of these
twelve or fifteen thousand are soldiers. Quite half
the old population — the people who were here before
the railway — are the descendants of convicts. A
number of exiles, indeed, still live in Omsk. They
are not generally known, except to the police. They
are at liberty to engage in business as they please.
The only restriction is that they must not leave
Omsk. The town, I found, was rather proud that
two celebrated Russian writers, Petropavlovski and
Dostoyevski — the latter wrote " Memoirs from a Dead
House," which even in translation makes your flesh
creep — were exiled in Omsk, and the houses in which
they lived are shown to the visitor. Dostoyevski was
twice severely flogged, once for complaining of soup
given him, and once for saving a fellow convict from
drowning. The second thrashing was so severe that
he was taken to the hospital as dead. When he
reappeared, however, he was called Pokoinik (the
deceased), and Pokoinik was his name until death
really overtook him.
38 TEE BEAL SIBERIA.
Omsk, you should bear in mind, is the very centre i
of 2,000 square miles of the finest pasture land in the
world. I met two Americans in the town pushing the
sale of American agricultural implements. One, the
representative of the Deering Manufacturing Company,
said to me, " Sir, I have been all over the United
States, and this is my third summer visit to do
business in Omsk. I tell you Siberia is going to be
another America." He also told me that three years
ago he sold only 40 reaping machines. That year,
1901, he sold 1,500, and next year he proposed to
bring out 4,000. Deering's were doing a good trade
because they are first in the field. The Government
were buying their machines, and then selling them
again to the emigrants, getting repayment by instal-
ments. Altogether there are eight American agri-
cultural implement manufacturers' representatives in
Omsk.
" Any English ? " I inquired.
" Not one," he laughed back, and I saw the glow of
Yankee satisfaction at getting what he afterwards
called " the bulge on John Bull."
Besides Americans selling agricultural wares,
chiefly mowers and reapers, there are fourteen firms
in Omsk engaged in the newly-developed Siberian
butter trade with England. The largest firm belongs
to a Russian Jew ; the other thirteen belong to
Danes. It was a Dane in St. Petersburg who four
years back accidentally saw Siberian butter. He was
struck with its excellence. Three years ago 4,000
buckets, each containing about 36 lb., were shipped
by way of Riga and Revel to England, and sold in the
English market, I've a suspicion, as " the best Danish."
IN A SIBERIAN TOWN. 39
Last summer (1901) 30,000 buckets a week -wero
exported from Siberia to England
I got into a talk Avith a Dane engaged in butter-
feuying.
" Yes," said he, " the way the butter business has
sprung up is amazing. But what has been done is
but a tiny scrap to what will be done in the future.
You've seen the cows, what miserable looking things
they are. But the pasturage is so good that there is
seven per cent, of butter fat in the milk. There are
only two steam dairies in all Siberia ; all the other
butter is made in primitive fashion by hand. The
conditions are such that it is not so clean-flavoured as
it should be. But it is splendid butter all the same.
The output at present, with a thin population and
defective methods, is small, and the competition
among the rival firms to get it is American in its
keenness. I travel six or seven hundred versts every
week on either side of the railway Hne, buying butter
from the peasants. It is brought in native carts all
that way to the railway. But the peasant doesn't
understand business. I'll make a contract for so
much butter to be delivered to me in Omsk at a
certain price — about eleven roubles (22s.) the pood
(36 lb.) has been the price this summer ; but when
in Omsk the man may meet one of my competitors,
and he has no hesitation, if offered a few kopeks
(pence) more a pood, in selling it to my rival. When
I remonstrate he simply said the other man offered
more. He doesn't understand the morality of a
bargain."
"And about the morality of the other butter
buyer ? " I questioned.
40 TBE REAL SIBERIA.
" Well," the Dane answered, " competition is right
up to the knife. This week five train loads of nothing
but butter have left Omsk for Riga. You've seen the
trains may-be, painted white, with all the latest
refrigerating appliances fitted up. The Russian
Government is delighted at what is taking place.
The authorities will do anything for us. They have
just issued a pamphlet in Russian showing how the
Siberian peasants can start profitable dairying with
the necessary machinery for an outlay of 500 roubles
(£50). The Russian peasant, however, is slow. But
the Jews have come into the business, and many are
already making fortunes by dairying. My firm
started a big dairy about 400 versts south from here.
The peasants would not believe a machine could
separate the butter from the milk. They said the
devil was in the machine. There's been a drought
down there. Everybody believed it was because the
Almighty was angry that they should allow these
devil machines in the country. So they wrecked the
place and smashed every separator we had. But it
will be all right in a year or two, as soon as they get
more civilised. They are beginning to see the
advantage of machinery. The winter food for the
cows has had to be cut by hand. Now these people
are beginning to see that if the grass is cut by
machines they can get far more hay, and keep four or
five times as many cows, and then the separators
make better mUk ; so some of them are on their
way to becoming rich."
In the afternoon I drove out to the plain beyond
Omsk and visited a Kirghiz camp. The Kirghiz
are the Red Indians of the West Siberian steppes.
IN A 8IBEBIAN TOWN. 41
The Russians have conquered them, and pushed
them upon the least fertile tracts of land to make
room for immigrants. The race is decreasing in
number, and will one of these days disappear from
the face of the earth altogether.
They are not unlike the " Red Man of the Wild
West " in feature, but are listless and drowsy. There
is a strong strain of the Tartar in them, shown by the
slit of the eye. They are nomads, driving flocks of
sheep before them. Indeed, the sheep is their
standard of value. A woman is only worth four
sheep, but a cow is worth eight sheep, a horse is
worth four cows, and they wiU give three horses for a
gun.
I found them very agreeable, smiling folk. Their
tents looked like huge cocoanut shells cut in half.
They were framework covered with coarse felt. The
men were clad in sheep-skins, but the women had
bright-hued cotton wraps, red and yellow print.
They showed hospitality by offering me fermented
mare's milk, which I lied about by saying it was
delightful, though I was near to sickness with the vUe
stuff. It took a fortnight to get the taste out of my
mouth.
We squatted on mats and smiled and nodded.
When I suggested taking their photographs, which
they understood, they were delighted. But there was
a delay, for even feminine vanity extends to the
Kirghiz, and we had to wait tiU the young women
decked themselves in their gorgeous native costumes.
One put on a huge red hat trimmed with foxskin.
I was with the Kirghiz only some half-an-hour. As,
however, I bade them farewell native fashion, by
42 THE REAL SIBERIA.
holding both hands in mine and shaking them, I
could not help but feel sorry for these children of the
Siberian plain, who have lost their heritage and are
soon to be extinct. The touch of civilisation means
death to them.
So back in a whirl of dust to Omsk, where, at the
hotel, was as good a little dinner as any traveller need
desire.
In the evening there was a f^te in the public
gardens, and to that I went with two Americans.
Probably seven or eight thousand people gathered in
the grounds, chiefly young fellows and young women.
Apart from the military, there was hardly any
difference in the dress from what you see in an English
or American town. There was the usual laughter and
flirting going on.
On a raised platform a band crashed waltzes, and
everybody who could get on the platform danced.
You may have witnessed the dancing at Belle Vue,
Manchester, on an August Bank holiday. There you
see a great mass of perspiring lads and lasses swinging
each other by the hour. The Omsk scene was hke
that, but on a smaller scale. There was also an open-
air theatre. It was impossible to get anywhere for
the crush. But from the distance it looked rather a
mournful performance — probably a Russian version
of " East Lynne." I thought I recognised the death
of little Willie.
Then, to wind up, there was a grand explosion of
fireworks, whizzing rockets releasing blue and red
stars, gorgeous designs, and the mob crying " 0-o-oh ! "
for all the world like Londoners at the Crystal Palace.
The final piece showed the name of the Czar in
IN A SIBERIAN TOWN. 43
coloured lights, with a crown above. Every-
body cheered and hallooed, and the men waved their
hats.
And this was in far Siberia, 2,805 versts east of
Moscow 1
CHAPTER V.
SIBERIA AS AN AGRICULTURAL COUNTRY.
It was while at Omsk that I awoke to the fact that
my previous idea about Siberia was marvellously
wrong. It was, of course, the popular idea, which is
more dramatic than the actual condition. Siberia,
to that useful but ill-informed individual, " the man
in the street," is a horrible stretch of frigid desert,
dotted with gaunt prison houses, and the tracks over
the steppes are marked with the bones of exiles who
have died beneath the weight of chains, starvation,
and the inhospitable treatment ot savage Russian
soldiers.
Britishers and Americans love to sup on horrors.
An Armenian atrocity, the life of Captain Dreyfus on
Devil's Island, the slow death of men chained to
barrows in Siberian mines, all that is gruesome and
cruel, thrills! It is the convict life of Siberia — so
contrary to all that we enlightened ones of the West
think right — that we have had depicted luridly ia
books of travel, magazine articles, and in melodrama.
It is not so much because travellers have written
about what they have never seen, as the insatiable
thirst of the public for sensation that has been
ministered to. Prison horrors are more attractive
than methods of cattle rearing, and so the tendency
has been for writers to pick out the worst feature in
Siberia, the convict system, weave together all the
dreadful stories they can find, dweU on the horrible
"''to '
.vj'
i.Ai'
"^ ^%ii.'!iri:'« *• "', .%t /
KHIRG1S ON THE STEPPES.
^^•-•?SAcr^-'V^,
A KHIRGIS BRIDE.
SIBERIA A8 AN AOBIOULTUBAL OOUNTBY. 45
life in the snow, until the public, reading about
nothing but convicts and snow in Siberia, imagine
that Siberia has nothing to show but convicts and
snow.
I had not, however, been long in Siberia before I
realised that the desire on the part of writers to give
the pubUc something dramatic to read about had led
them to exaggerate one feature of Siberian life and to
practically neglect the real Siberia, full of interest but
lacking sensation. So let me try to wipe from the
public mind the fallacy that Siberia is a Gehenna-
like region.
Away north, where the land borders the Arctic,
there is no vegetation but moss and lichen. Beneath
that, southwards, comes the great forest zone, a belt
of dense woods two thousand miles wide, running
east and west across Asia. But further south still is
the agricultural region, through which I travelled
and which the Russian authorities seem ardently
anxious to develop. And it is in this region, between
the Urals and Lake Baikal, that there are thousands
of mUes of country as flat as a billiard table, and
thousands of miles of pleasantly undulating wooded
land — not, I admit, a place to go to in search of
picturesque scenery, but about as fair as I have seen,
and ripe for agricultural projects.
There is hardly any spring in Siberia, the change
from the long winter to the blazing summer being
little more than the matter of a fortnight.
To talk of a Siberian winter is, I know, to make
one shudder. Yet in aU the towns I visited people
said, " Why do you come here in the summer, when
our roads are so dusty ? It is in winter we have
46 THB REAL SIBERIA.
a good time. It is cold, 30 degrees of frost, but you
don't feel it much, for it is so dry and the air so still.
The sky is cloudless for a month at a time. Then
the sledging — ah, it is when the sledging is in full
swing you should see a Siberian town ! "
What impressed me as soon as I crossed the Urals
was that the human race — ^beyond a few migratory
tribes — should not have flourished more in this land.
Yet, now, since the opening of the railway, the
Russian Government is almost going on its knees to
induce European Russians, who on the southern
sandy steppes find it so hard to make both ends
meet, to emigrate to Siberia.
European Russia is thinly enough populated in
all truth. But the parts good enough for cultivation
are under peasant proprietorship, and a father's land
is divided among the sons, so each generation has a
smaller and smaller piece of ground to nurture. The
more venturesome have their eyes on Siberia, where
they hope a less starvation Ufe is to be got. As I said
in a former chapter, there has been a steady flood of
emigrants to this side the Urals. On some of the
trains are fourth-class carriages, about as bare as a
guard's van on an EngUsh goods train, and as much
lacking in luxury. But the absence of cushions and
lavatory accommodation does not, I fancy, trouble the
new-comers. Most of them have a stolid content.
They pay about a shilling fare per hundred miles.
In cases of need the Government will make an
advance of £10 without interest.
A Russian who desires to emigrate here must get
permission from the authorities. The permission is
necessary, for land has to be allotted, and arrange-
SIBERIA AS AN AQRIOULTUBAL 0OUNTB7. 47
ments made for State officials to conduct the parties.
For the first three years no immigrant is called upon
to pay taxes. In Western Siberia a grant of some
32 English square miles is made to every man, and in
some cases there is an additional grant of six miles ot
forest. In Central Siberia the extent of the grant
is determined by the quality of the land.
As the settlers are practically State tenants, sale
and mortgage of land is forbidden. If an immigrant
has a little money, and wants to purchase a particular
strip, he can, however, do so on paltry terms. Near
the large towns the cost for a square verst (a verst is
about two-thirds of a mile) ranges from 10s. to 12s.,
whilst in other places good land can be bought for 6s.
a verst. The buyer must deposit half the sum in the
local treasury. This ensures the delivery of the land
for three years' use or profit. Full proprietorship is
obtained by the buyer spending, on plant and working,
a sum not less than twice the cost of allotment.
From 1893 to last year 18,900,000 acres of State land
in Western Siberia were transformed into immigra-
tion plots.
May is the month when the tide of immigration
sets in. As Russian official red tape is quite as slow
unwinding as elsewhere there are often huge crowds
of emigrants at stations, thousands even, waiting for
days till they can be conducted to their plots.
Naturally enough there is misery among the ignorant
immigrants who get dumped in a particular district,
knowing little about the climate or the soil. So the
Government have appointed Commissions of Inquiry,
though neither the immigrant nor those already
settled have any voice. Further, there has been
48 TEE REAL SIBERIA.
organised among Russian philanthropists a rehef com-
mittee which has representatives at thirty stations
where immigrants chiefly stop, and these men give
advice to the discouraged and sick.
I confess to being amazed by the inducements
held out so that Siberia may be speedily peopled.
Not only at every station is the big steaming samovar,
so that hot water may be obtained for the constant
occupation of tea drinking, but at every station also
is a big chest of medical appliances, and there is
always an official who must know how to render first
aid to the injured. Food for chUdren, sick persons,
and indigent may be got free. Other immigrants
buy their food at cost price. Then on arriving at
their destination the immigrants receive seed from
the Government for next to nothing. Tools are to be
bought on easy terms.
Nowhere in the United States — and Siberia is
frequently alluded to as the new America — have I
seen such an expanse of magnificent agricultural
land waiting for man and his plough. And yet there
is small prospect for some generations, at least, that
Siberia, through Eussian farmers, wiU give of its
teeming abimdance to the rest of the world.
The fact is, the Russian is one of the worst farmers
on the face of the earth. It is probably the strong
strain of the Tartar in him that makes him indolent.
He is certainly no born agriculturist. Catherine the
Second recognised this a hundred years ago when she
invited German colonists to settle in Southern Russia,
hoping their example would have effect on the
Russians themselves. Five years ago I went through
this colonised region. Compared with Siberia it was
VILLAGE CRONIES
SIBERIA AS AN AGBIOULTUEAL COUNTRY. 49
a wilderness. The German villages, however, were
neat and clean. There was frugality among the
people. The farms might yield little, but they
were cared for, properly tilled, and all fenced. The
Kussian villages, however, were masses of filth and
misery. The houses were dirty, and turned one's
stomach; all the farm buildings were in a state of
decrepitude, and if a fence broke it remained broken.
The land was neglected and gave a wretched return.
There was sloth everywhere.
It always struck me that the moudjik cared for
nothing but animal satisfaction, enough food for the
day and enough kopecks so that he might get drunk
with vodki on the Sunday.
The Russian Government, with all its faults, and
undoubtedly they are many, is acting benevolently to
the Siberian settlers, buying American agricultural
machinery, and re-selling on easy instalment terms.
Yet everywhere I remarked how the immigrant lacks
energy. First of all, he won't live on a farm three, five,
or ten miles from anybody else. He insists on living in
a village or town, though his farm may be thirty miles
away. He tiUs a stretch of ground, and sows wheat,
but he never thinks of reaping till it is dead ripe ; then
he cuts with a hand sickle, and half the foodstuff rots
in the rains. When he has used up one piece of
ground he moves to another. He doesn't understand
manuring. He doesn't look forward to the next year,
or the year after. As a rule, he has no desire to get
lich. 'That impetus, which has done so much to spur
the American, is non-existent. To get through hfe
with as little trouble as he can seems his only
ambition.
50 THE BEAL SIBEHIA.
The farmers, are, of course, all of the old serf class.
They have behind them an ancestry little removed
from slaves, with nothing to mark them from beasts
of burden but their speech. From such a people a
bright and intelligent yeomanry is, of course, not
to be expected. Every crowd of moudjiks I came
across had the same sluggish, bullish, coarse expression.
The Government, as I have explained, is trying to
educate the settlers into the advantages of modern
appliances. But when all that is done Siberia will
give but the scrapings of its wealth, for no Govern-
ment and no machinery can alter the character of a
race. And the great block to development for
generations will be that the Russians have not the
real qualities of agriculturists.
Every day as I travelled through this land and
looked at its possibilities I found myself muttering,
" Oh for a hundred families of my own North-country
yeomen to settle here to show what can be done, and
in half a generation go home with fortunes made."
Siberia is a good country for horses. They are
sturdy workers, and as hardy as you can find. In
Central Siberia there are eighty-five horses to every
hundred of population. In the United States the
proportion is twenty-two to the hundred, and in
France seven to the hundred. The Siberian proportion,
indeed, is only excelled by the Argentine Republic,
where the rate is 112 horses to every hundred inhabi-
tants. In the region of the Trans-Siberian Railway
from Cheylabinsk to Irkutsk it is estimated there is
something like three million horses. The average
peasant horse is worth from 24s. to 30s. The horses
used for the post, and which have enormous powers of
SIBERIA AS AN AGRIOULTUBAL OOUNTBY. 51
speed and endurance, cost from £2 10s. to £3. The
finest horses, which would fetch about £60 in England,
are to be got from £5 to £7.
Under the impetus of the butter industry it is
likely enough the rearing of cattle will somewhat
improve. At present beasts are small and lean, and
bullocks are chiefly used for draught.
The vast tracks of natural pasture are ideal for
sheep grazing. The fat-tailed Tartar sheep is the best.
At present these sheep are reared for the fat on their
tail. This fat grows all through the summer, and a
yearling will give twenty pounds of tallow. In the
winter months the tail gradually disappears. It is one
of the provisions of nature. When no food is to be got
because of the snow the animal gets sustenance by the
gradual disappearance of the fat tail. When it is
housed and fed in the winter months the tail remains.
This fat- tailed Tartar sheep is not, however, very good
for wool. An inferior sheep is bred for this.
In a purely agricultural region comparison of
heads of animals with numbers of population is
interesting. The proportion of horned cattle varies
from fifty per hundred inhabitants in West Siberia
to seventy per hundred in East Siberia. As to sheep
there are eighty-five to the hundred in the West, but
in the East there are 135 sheep to every hundred of
inhabitants. In the towns I have inquired the price
of meat. Fairly good beef and mutton can be got for
2d. and 3d. a pound, and a good plump chicken can
bo brought for 8d.
It was the fine skins that the nomads brought over
the Urals that first attracted Russian trade in Siberia.
The most valuable is the sable. The tribes hunt for
52 TEE REAL SIBERIA.
sable in winter. Mounted on snow-shoes they go
into the forest and follow the trails. Sometimes a
sable gets into a hole, and then the hunter must wait,
maybe for days, before it will come out. But it is
worth waiting for; the skin will bring him from
60s. to £9 — a considerable sum to a nomad. The
skin of the blue fox is also much prized. Some
authorities say the blue fox is the same as the white
Arctic fox — only the summers are so short in the
Polar regions that the fox does not think it worth
while altering his fur, whilst in the south he does not
put on his white fur because the summers are long.
Only the piece by the paws is worn by rich Russians,
and the rest is exported. A cloak of these paws is
worth £1,000. A black fox skin is worth £50, and a
silver fox skin will fetch £25.
The whole country is fuU of bear, reindeer, wolf,
elk, beaver, hare, and antelope. Ardent sportsmen,
seeking for some fresh country to try their guns,
might do worse than go to Siberia for a couple of
months in early autumn. Besides animals, they will
find plenty of game — geese, ducks, grouse. If the
sportsmen get among the Kirghiz tribe they may see
good hawking. These people have big, well-trained
hawks that will strike foxes and even wolves.
AU this — though possibly dull to the man who
would like a series of thrilling convict stories — wUl, I
hope, do one thing. It wiU indicate that Siberia is
not the harsh frozen prison too generally imagined.
Now a word or two respecting the government of
Siberia. It is divided into four oblasts, or provinces.
At the head of each is a Governor-General, who
represents the Czar, and has supreme control over
SIBERIA AS AN AORIOULTUBAL COUNTRY. 53
both civil and military affairs. There are various
councils who advise the Governor-General, and each
province is divided into districts with administrative
institutions. Each town has a municipaUty, elected
by householders. Each village is a small commune
with an elected mayor and magistrates. The com-
mune keeps a sharp look-out upon the doings of its
members, for the community is made to suffer when
the news of wrong-doing reaches the higher authori-
ties. The chief person in all the village is the pisar,
or mayor's secretary. He is the one person who
must be able to read and write, for the members of
the peasant Parliament are very likely devoid of these
qualifications. Therefore the pisar is a sort of
village Pooh-Bah. His salary is generally in kind.
Vile and stenching as are most of the villages, it
is impossible to help admiring the substantial and
clever way in which the houses are built of logs
roughly hewn with an axe, dove-tailed at the corners,
and with a layer of moss between each beam to avoid
draughts. During six winter months the double
windows are closely shut and puttied up, and in
summer very little air can get into the house because
the windows won't open.
There is no bedroom as we understand it. At
night cushions are spread on the floor, and the whole
family sleep in their clothes. In the morning they
give their faces a rub with water, but use no soap. I
don't recommend the peasant way of washing one's
face. He fills his mouth with water, and gently
squirts it from between his lips to his hands.
Naturally enough the pleasures of these agri-
culturists, far from what is considered civilisation,
54 TSE REAL SIBERIA.
are few. Getting drunk is regarded as a very
excellent thing, and often very vile is the liquor. In
each village, however, is generally a young fellow who
can play the accordion ; and so in the evening there is
often dancing. The women are not very attractive.
They are stodgy and expressionless. Their one
touch of vanity is to have a gaudy shawl tied about
the head.
I went much among these peasants trying to get a
glimpse of their lives. Though often the smeU of the
houses made me feel ill, I received nothing but
courtesy. They are simple-minded people, very
religious and very superstitious. And although
there may not be a house in the village more dignified
than we would use as a cowshed, there is always a big
white church, with towers of oriental, bulbous shape,
painted blue or gilded. In the right hand comer of
every room of every hut is a sacred picture called an
icon. The peasant never finishes a crust of black
bread without standing before the icon and crossing
himself. He may be on the way to the vodki shop,
but when passing the church he takes off his hat and
makes the sign of the cross. When he is drunk he is
not quarrelsome. He is worse — for he becomes very
affectionate, and wants to kiss you !
He won't start on a journey on Monday, and if he
sets out on a Tuesday or any other day, and the first
person he happens to meet is a priest, he will turn
back When there is lightning which frightens him
he recalls the names of his bald-headed friends, and
so stops it !
Only two steps above the savage is the peasant as
I saw him in Siberia. He is uncouth, and his
SIBERIA A8 AN AORIGULTUBAL COUNTRY. 55
passions are primitive. Ho liulks about with his red
shirt outside his trousers, and never does to-day what
he can put ofif till to-morrow. But he has come to a
fine country. Siberia is no longer an evil-omened
word. It is capable of much more than freezing
exiles to death. And it is with the object of making
that fact plain I have written this chapter.
66
CHAPTER VI.
A CARAVANSERAI FOR ORGIES.
From Omsk to Tomsk is some six hundred miles,
and the post train by which I journeyed took just
under two days. The mail arrives at Omsk at half-
past eleven at night, allows two hours for carousal in
the buffet, and then at half-past one snorts on its
eastward way.
I was assured, by all the saints to whom the
Russians do reverence, there wasn't a spare carriage
in the entire train. But bribery is the one thing
that opens doors in Russia, and when I whispered to
the conductor that I would provide him with the
means of having many cups of tea — the Muscovite
save-your-face style of intimating you are prepared
to offer an insult in hard cash — he muttered " Cechas,"
and I knew all would be well. Also, I knew just as
well as he did that he had one or two coupes un-
occupied, but with locked doors, and that he would
swear there was a sick lady inside, or two Jews, or a
family of children with the small-pox, vmtil tea-money
was suggested.
"Cechas!" the conductor had said. Literally
" cechas " means " within the hour " ; idiomatically
it means " at the earliest moment " ; actually, as
everybody who has travelled in Russia knows, it
means now, to-morrow, next week, possibly not at all.
If waiters at Russian hotels ever babble in their sleep
they cry, " Cechas ! cechas ! " The last words of a
A 0ABAVAN8EBAI FOB OBOIES ST
Kussian railway porter, when he must leave the pale
ghmpses of the moon and hie him to subhme or
sulphurous realms, will be " Cechas ! " It is a word
that rings in your ears from the instant you set
foot in the Empire of the Great White Czar till you
leave it.
So I sat on the corner of my leather bag and
smoked an English briar charged with English tobacco,
and watched the bustling scene; looked in at the
buffet, where everyone seemed to be feverishly
guzzhng ; occasionally I walked to the far end of the
platform, and gazed at the clear star-sprinkled sky,
and recalled it was just about time for afternoon tea
in far-away sunny England — though I couldn't teU it
was sunny, but hoped it was so for the love of home.
I explored the first corridor section of the cars,
hoping to find a compartment. I was growled at —
probably sworn at, for my acquaintance with Slavonic
anathema is happily that of a child — by drowsy
Russians, or I found the doors locked. Then I went
on the chase for my conductor, and finally ran him
down in the third-class refreshment room, where he
was drinlang Samara ale, with a trade mark on the
label of a red pyramid, which showed that the brewers
at Samara, on the banks of the Volga, have some
acquaintance with the mainstay of Burton, on the
banks of the Trent. I remonstrated in halting Russian,
and asked about that carriage.
" Cechas, cechas ! " said he.
" Cechas be something," said I. He was probably
wanting me to increase the insult. But I wasn't
disposed.
Then I produced a Uttle weapon I was carrying in
58 THE REAL SIBERIA.
my pocket. No, it was not a revolver. It was simply
an open letter from Prince Hilkoff, the chief of the
railway, informing all ofl&cials on the line that I was
a journalist travelling through Siberia with the special
permission of the Czar, and that I was to be given
assistance and shown courtesy.
There is nothing that impresses a Russian so much
as a big name and a big seal. I've an idea the more
sealing wax used the more important is the document
regarded.
" Gechas!" exclaimed my big, slothful, bribe-seeking
conductor, and he cechased into the train, gave me a
compartment, insisted on helping to put my baggage
straight, and saluted me as though I were a decorated
field-marshal, instead of a meek-eyed young man in
a slouch hat, smoking a common briar-wood pipe,
bought at the Stores for tenpence.
So I was comfortable — for a time. In the com-
partment on one side of me was a gentleman who
snored. I saw him in the morning. He was very
corpulent, but with weedy legs, no neck, and a face
that was porcine. His snore was three-parts grunt.
Every now and then it would seem something stuck
somewhere. There was a momentary pause. Then
came a gruff blast that, without exaggeration, shook
the train. I could sleep through the rowdyism of the
four card-playing, vodki-drinldng young officers on
the other side of me, but the snore of that fat Russian
as we crawled eastwards through Siberia irritated.
It was necessary to plug my ears and wrap my head
in a rug before endeavouring to snatch sleep.
Morning brought drenching rain, and anything
that might have been pleasing was soaked out of the
THERE IS A SAMOVAR AT EVERY STATION.
A OAnAVANBEBAI FOB ORGIES. 59
landscape. The rain fell in torrents. The clouds
trailed their skirts across the land. When they lifted
we were beyond the plain, and in a gentle undulating
region, with frequent lakes, some of them miles in
length.
The stations at which we made such long halts
were now drab painted, and with green roofs. There
was generally a bedraggled gang of peasant women,
waiting to sell milk and cooked fowls and eggs and
bread.
It was a very chilly two days that I do not recall
distinctly. When I was hungry I dived into the little
buffets, and ate uninquiringly of the strange dishes
provided. Then I dived back to my carriage, wrapped
myself in coat and rug, and read and dozed the two
days away. There was nothing exciting. The only
thing to record was that on the second morning we
were running through a forest of pine and larch.
If you look at a recent map of Siberia you may
see the railway line marked in red. If the hne runs
through Tomsk it is inaccurate. If, however, a tiny
little eighth-of-an-inch long branch hne points north-
wards to Tomsk it is correct.
Tomsk, the capital of Siberia, is eighty-two versts
from the junction station of Taiga, which means " in
the woods.''
And why doesn't tlie Great Trans-Siberian Railway
run through the capital ? It is an old story I was
always hearing with regard to this line. It was laid
in corruption.
" How much will you give us if we bring the line
past Tomsk ? " asked the surveyors and engineers who
mapped the route.
60 THE REAL SIBERIA.
" Nothing! " replied Tomsk. "We are the capital of
Siberia, and you can't avoid coming here."
" Oh, can't we ? " replied the route-finders. " If you
don't produce so many thousand roubles there will
be insurmountable engineering difficulties that will
prevent us coming within a long way of Tomsk."
These engineering difficulties were discovered, and
so the Trans-Siberian Railway sweeps along fifty
miles to the south of Tomsk. And Tomsk, to put
it baldly, is very sick. Its population is progressrag,
but as a snail progresses to a hare. Irkutsk, further
east, is already ahead of it by ten thousand. So the
glory of the capital is on the wane.
Of course, the Tomsk people became indignant —
for Tomsk was a flourishing place, the very hub oi
Siberian trade long before railways were thought of
A branch line has been constructed from Taiga.
Taiga, therefore, which was little more than a signal-
ling hut in the forest, has these last six years become
a busy junction. I counted eleven tracks side by
side in the goods yard. There were rows of red-
painted freight vans waiting to go this way or
that, and a huge engine-shed, with gangs of grimy
mechanics attending the engines.
The first-class fare from Taiga to Tomsk is three
roubles (about 6s.), 2 roubles 95 kopecks as a matter
of fact, but there is a tax of 5 kopecks towards paying
for " the war in China." Everything must have a
Government stamp in Russia. You can't buy a
theatre ticket without pajdng a tax. Still, three
roubles is not so much for a fifty-mile journey first-
class, especially as it takes four hours to cover the
distance.
A OABAVANSEBAI FOB 0B0IE8. 61
The clouds lifted in the moist eventide, making
a divine sunset, as we ran through nicely wooded
country that might have been a bit of homeland, if
only there had been hedges and farmsteads.
Most of the passengers got off at what seemed a
tiny wayside station.
" How far are we from Tomsk ? " I asked.
" Tomsk Station ? "
" Yes, Tomsk Station," I replied.
" About half-an-hour."
When we got to Tomsk it seemed as though I
was the only passenger. I marvelled, but the next
day discovered. Still the old story. Dispute between
the railway builders and the town folk. The Hne
might quite easily run to the centre of the town. It
doesn't. After it gets within two miles of the place —
the wayside station at which everybody got off save
myself — the line makes a great half-moon bend round
one side of the town, never getting nearer than the
two miles, and pulls up two miles on the other side
of Tomsk. That is one of the ways they do things
in Siberia.
I had a jolting, bone-cracking, droshki ride through
a vile sea of mud until the city was reached — another
unpaved, miry, over-grown village, but with electric
light everywhere.
The largest hotel is the " Europe." I went there.
It had only been opened a fortnight, and it reeked
with paint. The paint on the floor of my room came
off hke the tar on a freshly asphalted sidewalk.
Everything was blue, red, and gold. At one end of
the dining haU was a huge, up-to-date barrel organ,
for all the world like the organs that accompany
62 TEE REAL SIBERIA.
roundabouts at English fairs, only bigger. Tbere
were the harsh brass and rattling drums, clanging
cymbals, and in front ■was a toy figure of a man with
right arm jerking up and down, beating time wrong.
At present this organ is the sensation of Tomsk. It
makes such a row that one's appetite disappears.
But Tomsk is a rollicking wealthy city, and its
evenings are given to dissipation. Between eleven at
night and four in the morning that accursed organ
roared airs, while high revelry held sway.
I hunted up the one Britisher in Tomsk, a Scot,
representing the American Trading Company, and we
roamed the place together. I shall never complain
again of dirty streets in England or America — after
Tomsk. Two days' rain had made them canals of mud.
We drove about — the filth was up to the axle-tree.
Where there was any slope it was bumpy and hillocky,
and it was necessary to hold on tight or be pitched
ignominiously out of the droshki. One finished a
droshki ride sore all over.
The town is on low land, but within a mile is a
pleasant rise until a high bank is reached overlooking
the River Tom, scouring north till it joins the Obi —
a most picturesque situation, the very place for villas.
The wealthy of Tomsk, however, have small appre-
ciation of the beautiful, and prefer the fetid town. It
is here that the main road from the Far East to
Moscow fords the river.
There is a gigantic ferry that took across in one
load fourteen carts and horses and forty or fifty
people. The boat was curious. At one end were
three horses trotting round and round, turning a
cogged shaft, which turned a pair of paddles, and
A 0ABAVAN8EBAI FOR OBGIES. 63
these carried the ferry from side to side, while a man
steered with a fish tail of an oar.
Last year the population of Tomsk was over
52,000, with 9,000 houses, 33 churches, and 25 schools.
It is the educational centre of Siberia — indeed, it
takes third place in the Russian Empire. In 1888 the
Government contributed a million roubles to found a
university, and the rich residents contributed another
million. The University buildings are handsome,
and about a thousand students are in attendance.
The professors are mostly Germans, or of German
extraction. Close by a technical college is being
erected, where it is proposed to teach everything that
will aid in the development of Siberia. A department
has already been started for special instruction in
geographical and scientific research. The public
Hbrary given to the town by Count Strogoneff would
do credit to an English town twice the size of Tomsk.
For three-quarters of a century now Tomsk has
been close to valuable gold-fields. There is gold
everywhere. It can be got out of the sand on the
banks of the river Tom. The richest workings, how-
ever, are two or three days' journey away.
Siberian gold exploitation is not very popular just
now in England. The reason is not the scarcity of
gold, but the restrictions put by Russia upon it being
worked by foreigners. I believe the Government —
which is much in need of money — would make things
easier, so that foreign capital might come in, if a
percentage of the gold were given in return. But
there is a strong anti-foreign party in Russia constantly
crying out against the country getting into the financial
grip of outsiders. I heard, however, of two young
64 THE REAL SIBERIA.
fellows, a Scot and an American representing Glasgow
and New York syndicates, who had for the last couple
of years been putting down between thirty and forty
thousand pounds' worth of quartz-crushing machinery.
The town is half full of millionaires and ex-convicts.
Most of the millionaires are themselves convict
descended — uncouth, illiterate men, unable to write
their own name, and absolutely ignorant of the outer
world. They know no place but Tomsk, and they
think there is no place Uke it. London and Paris are
but vague names to them. If you begin talking to
them about these cities they grunt, and regard you as
a liar.
Tomsk is a sort of granary for Siberia. There is a
great market place, and here is- brought tea from
China — only 400 miles away — furs from the north,
bullock and horse skins from aU the country around.
It is a quaint sight to see all the carts gathered in
the market place, dirty, wheezy, hooded things, in the
care of shaggy men in clattering top-boots, violent-
hued shirts, and great sheepskin hats, haggling,
quarrelling and bartering. Their hair is towsled and
unkempt. The men, indeed, do hair-cutting for
each other. They smooth it out straight over the fore-
head, as well as at the back of the neck. They clap
on the head an earthenware bowl, that fits fairly
tight, and then with shears clip away every bit of
protruding hair.
At the street corners are vermin-covered deformi-
ties, willing to give you blessings in return for
kopecks, or curses if you give nothing at aU. Cring-
ing, black-hooded women, carrying, like a plate, a
velvet-hooded board on which is a cross, meet you
THE CLUB HOUSE AT TOMSK,
THE THEATRE AT TOMSK
A 0ABAVAN8EBAI FOR 0B0IE8. 65
everywhere — in the streets, in the shops, and even on
the trains — inviting alms. They are Hcensed beggars
on behalf of the local churches.
Churches are everywhere. The Cathedral is a
giant place with white-washed walls and big blue
bulbous domes. The inside is a blaze of gilded icons.
The door leading to the " Holy of Hohes " is of gold.
The Russian Greek Church is fond of gilt bedizen-
ment. The priests wear the most gorgeous vest-
ments, and the moudjik gives his last kopeck to save
his soul.
Some of the churches, however, struck me as
pretty. They were low, with long shelving roofs,
painted green, and very long tapering spires, also
painted green.
On the shoulder of the hiU adjoining the town
is the Alexis Monastery, and in the grounds were
walking long black-robed, long black-haired, and long
black-whiskered priests — all rather dirty and greasy.
I went to see the small and crumbling old hut —
protected by a special roof — where lived the old man,
Theodore Kuzmilch, the bond-servant of God. Tomsk
people, however, call the place " Alexandero House."
The one dimly lighted room is made into a sort of
chapel. There are sacred pictures on the wall, and
lights ever burning before them.
KuzmUch, it is said, had been exiled from Russia
for vagrancy, and coming to Tomsk a merchant gave
him this hut, and here he lived for eleven years as
a hermit on bread and water, and never went out
except to church or to do some kindly act. He died
in 1864. There is a picture of him in the hut, a
gaunt, hollow-cheeked, eagle-eyed old man with long
F
66 TEE REAL 8IBEBIA.
white hair. Close by, however, is a painting of Czar
Alexander I. when he first came to the throne, and,
also a picture of Alexander in middle life.
It is believed in Tomsk that this hermit, who now
lies buried in the monastery grounds, was no Theo-
dore Kuzmilch, but Alexander I. himself. Alexander
abdicated the throne of Eussia because all his plana
for the good of his people had failed. He was tired
and weary of his position. So while on a journey
to the Crimea for the benefit of his health it was
given out that he died at Taganrog. Public opinion
declared that, with the consent of his successor,
Nicholas I., another corpse was taken to St. Peters-
burg and buried in state. Alexander disappeared.
Nothing was heard of him till he turned up as a
wanderer in Tomsk. He was recognised but by one
person, a merchant. The secret was well kept, and
it was not till long after his death that it leaked out
that old Theodore was the Czar. Such, at any rate, is
the' story told in Tomsk.
Like all cities to which wealth cpmes easily,
Tomsk is licentious, extravagant, and life is not
counted of much value.
I saw a dirty old man slithering in the mud.
" The richest man in Tomsk, a rouble millionaire four
times over," I was told.
A couple of ladies, fashionably dressed, splashed by
in a carriage drawn by a pair of horses. " One is the
daughter of a convict, and the other is engaged to be
married to a convict's son."
Another man trailed past. " That man is a
prince; he belongs to an older family than the
reigning house of Romanoff. He is nephew of the
A OABAVA^'SEBAI FOB 0BGIE8. 67
Governor of Moscow. He's a bad lot, and was the
head of a gang of swindlers. He got hold of a rich
Englishman anxious to settle in Moscow. In the
Governor's absence he took the Englishman to the
Governor's house, pretending it was his own, and sold
it for 30,000 roubles. It was the Englishman who
was sold. That is why the prince is exiled to Tomsk.
He's a solicitor here."
Some dark-eyed, keen-featured women went past.
" Jews ! " said my companion. " Jews are the curse of
Siberia, as they are of Russia. The Russians and
Siberians are not good business men. The Jews are.
The Government is hard on them, but the Jew here
gets baptised a Christian, and so he can cheat,
outwit, grow enormously rich. But he is a Jew at
heart all the same. If you were a Russian and had
business to do in Russia you would understand why
the Jew is hated."
A group of intelligent young fellows strolled by
Students — many of them ardent young men who
read all the Western literature they can get hold of.
In 1900 a lot of them had a procession through the
streets, singing student songs out of sympathy with
the Moscow and Petersburg students, who were
rioting for reform. Next day two hundred of them
were taken by the authorities out of the town. These
lads of twenty had been exiled !
The Russian Government, I will say, is much
traduced. But it does often show a childish fear.
Fancy exiling those boys ! Fancy exiling Glasgow
students because they had a procession in the streets ]
There being plenty of money in Tomsk, pleasure
is the one pursuit. Not to be immoral is to be
68 THE REAL SIBERIA.
suspected of revolutionary ideas. Laxity of conduct is
the best sign of good fellowship. Nowhere, I confess,
did I see signs of refinement. The houses are glorified
huts with red paint and plush. To squander money
in drunken carousal, and to load his womenkind with
pearls and sables, is the ambition of the average
Tomsk man. There is a flavour of the Californian
gold-digging days about Tomsk, but with the romance
left out.
On the whole, I was not favourably impressed
with the capital of Siberia. It is a caravanserai for
orgies.
69
CHAPTER VII.
VAGRANT NOTES BY THE WAY.
From Tomsk, the present capital of Siberia, to
Irkutsk, the future capital, and already called the
Paris of Siberia, took three and a half days.
Had I been on the search for adventure I could
not have sought, the wide world through, a more
unromantic route. We had long bidden good-bye to
the prairies, and now ran through a region of forest
and heaving countryside, with many rivers to cross,
and sighted at last, like a grey-purple cloud humped
on the horizon, the gaunt, snow-creviced mountains
that wall China.
I have heard this railway journey across Siberia
dubbed uninteresting. Maybe it is; but, being of
simple tastes, I ceased to find it so.
The weather was as it should be. There was a
nip of frost in the early mornings, so that breath
puffed hoary. The middle of the day was sunshiny,
the sky as blue as Irish eyes, and never a woof of
cloud to be seen. There was the fragrance of pine in
the air. Then the fall of evening was so stiU, so
impressive ; the west ribbed with fire and topped with
palest green, the dome of heaven deep azure, and
the east, coming up like a shroud, recalling other days
in far Western America.
When I got back from Tomsk to Taiga the
junction on the main line, I had a wait of four hours
before the post train from Moscow went on.
The stretch of platform in front of the grey- walled,
70 TEE REAL SIBERIA.
green-roofed station buildings was full of emigrants.
They had their bundles thrown into heaps, and they
squatted on the ground and used the bundles as back-
rests. Maybe my eyes were getting used to the sight
of hulking men in red shirts and heavy, long-legged
boots and rough sheepskin caps, but these did not
look quite so brutal as those I saw at Moscow. They
lay about, and slept in ungraceful attitudes. Their
wives, with the patience of cows on their plain faces,
sat in groups talking quietly and chewing sunflower
seeds and spitting out the shells, or fetching hot
water from the ever-bubbling public samovar to make
tea. In and about them moved a wiry, kindly-faced
man, selling cheap copies of the Scriptures.
The children, and there were hundreds of them,
were bare-footed, ragged-breeked little savages,
supremely happy.
Half-a-dozen boys made themselves into an
imaginary train by hitching with one hand to each
other's shirt-tail, the other hand playing the part ol
imaginary wheel, and so went shou-shouing up and
down the platform.
There were two lads I particularly noticed. At
every station where we halted they jumped out and
filled their pockets with stones. The intervals between
the stations were occupied with pelting the telegraph
poles from the carriage window. The animal called
Boy is the same in all climes.
There were many Tartars, ungainly-limbed, sallow-
clieeked, beady-eyed Mongols, in astrakhan hats and
padded, quUted frock-coats and short trousers and
flip-flapping slippers. They sat on their beds, and
looked at each other slothfuUy and blinkingly.
^■' -m^h^
THROUGH THE TAIGA.
WAYSIDE STATION.
VAORANT NOTES BY THE WAY. 71
Then there were the ordinary middle-class
Russians, who might have been stodgy Teutons for
all the distinction there was in costume.
Colour was given by the men in uniform, the white
jackets and the blue trousers and gold decorations
and clanging spurs. Every man in Government
employ, be he soldier or ticket-collector, wears
uniform, and half the men above the peasant class
seemed to be officials of some kind.
It was at Taiga I became conscious of the fact
I was being watched. I felt the knowledge of the
fact creep in somewhere at the back of my neck. I
turned hurriedly and caught the departing side-glance
of a short, inquisitive-eyed and tufty-bearded gentle-
man. I knew he was watching me. Maybe he
belonged to that mysterious body, the Russian Secret
Police. Maybe he thought I was a Soho-Nihilist —
though I hope there was nothing suggestive of Soho
in my attire, save my old knockabout slouch hat.
I took a stroll to the far end of the platform. He
followed and pretended not to be looking when I
turned, but when I again passed him I could feel his
gaze, like a Rontgen-ray, go into the side of my
head.
When the Moscow-Irkutsk post train arrived I
hunted out a carriage and prepared to make myself
comfortable for four nights. Suddenly the door was
jerked open, and as suddenly jerked shut again. It
was my little spy. I heard whispering in the next
compartment, and when I went into the corridor
my spy — I got to regard him as my own particular
property after three days — and the conductor came
and stared.
72 THE REAL SIBERIA.
Whenever I left my carriage he left his. I
I couldn't go into the buffet and have a cup of soup
■without my spy sitting opposite me. If I wandered
for ten minutes into the woods to take a photograph,
or climbed a bank to get a snapshot of the train, he
was near.
Truly, as a spy, he played the game badly. It
was aU too patent. If I could have really acted
suspiciously I would have done so, just to fool him to
I the top of his bent. All I could thiuk of was to look
at embankments, simulating wisdom, as though
calculating how much dynamite it would need to
blow them into the air, or walk along the line and
inspect the rails, as though I had some deep design
in mind. But I maintained an air of sublime ignor-
ance that he was on the earth.
It was the evening before we reached Irkutsk, and
the train was halting for half-an-hour, when, all at
once, there was a row next door. I sprang into the
corridor to see.
There were the railway officials ignominiously
throwing my spy and his belongings out. The in-
quisitive little fellow had never seen a foreigner
before, and he was travelling first-class with a second-
class ticket. He was very petulant at this indignity
of ejection. He fretted and fumed. But " out you
go and get into a back carriage," was the attitude of
the officials. As he picked up his bedding and kettle
he looked at me. I could not resist the temptation
to give him two broad, slow British winks and then
laugh. It was the only revenge I had.
A railway journey such as this I was embarked
upon was much like a voyage aboard ship. The
VAQBANT NOTES BY THE WAY. 73
passengers struck up acquaintance, and a kind of
family feeling prevailed. Like the rest, I jumped
from the train in the fresh of the early morning —
and how crisp and blood-tingling is the welcome of
the yoimg day in Siberia — and ran with my little
kettle to the big bubbling samovar that somebody
had got ready, and joined the good-natured struggle
for hot water.
It was the same each morning. Most of us were
sleepy-eyed and uncombed. There were peasant
women with baskets, in which were great slabs of that
morning's bread, brown and spongy and a little sour,
which I fancied. For a penny I got a hunk. The first-
class and second-class folk, being more "swagger"
than the third-class and fourth-class people — the first
and second men wear their shirts tucked in their
trousers, and the third and fourth wear theirs outside
— often bought fransoozki Jcleb, which, you understand,
means French bread. But for this twopence must be
paid. From another old peasant woman I got a pat
of butter, cool and delicious, for twopence, and for
fourpence I secured a plate of blackberries.
Then back to my carriage, where I have tea and
sugar — my packet of tea burst one night and got
mixed up with pyjamas, cigars, and shaving tackle —
and I squat on the floor and make the most deUcious
tea in the world.
There is something constitutionally wrong with a
man who doesn't like Russian tea — rather weak, with
a little lump of sugar and a little slice of lemon, and
no milk, and drunk from a tumbler. I — who for
several days had no spoon, and not knowing the
Russian for " spoon " found a paper-knife an excellent
74 TEE REAL SIBERIA.
substitute — could wi-ite an epic on Kussian tea-
drinking.
Then with the window wide open, while the train
rolls slowly through the forest, the engine bellowing
with long hollow echoes like a steamer crawling its
way up the Mersey in a fog, I drink glasses of tea,
many of them, until I must be " wisibly swellin'," and
munch my new bread and new butter, and eat my
berries with the dew still upon them. Then a pipe,
and a long look upon the never-ending regiments of
trees, tall, slim, silver-barked.
For fifty yards or so each side the line was a clearing,
and the trunks of the slain stuck up like black
knuckles in miles, miles, miles of gorgeous under-
groAvth. It was as though there was a carpet of Virginia
creeper as blood-red as the wine of Capri, but with a
clear yellow dash now and then, like Moselle, to bring
out the brilliance, and with the drab velvety dust of
the line between.
Later on we were among pines, nothing but pines,
the ground sprinkled with sunlight, but the distances
dark as caverns. Here, in the clearing, a fresh crop
of firs was springing up, with young limbs as green as
a shallow sea. I thought of the millions and milHons
of Christmas trees they would make.
The fact of being in Siberia often slipped away
from my mind. When you go from London to
Bournemouth the run through the New Forest does
not make you think of Siberia. Yet we kept going
all day, all night, several days and nights, through
just such a country. It was the continuity of it, the
seeming endlessness of it, that brought one with a
jerk to realise something of its length.
vatftfefe^d
:%sv7^-~.
~^ /ag«
THERE IS A HUGE WATER TOWER AT EVERY STATION.
A TYPICAL SIBERIAN STATION.
YAQBANT NOTES BY THE WAT. 75
Though this Trans-Siberian track is a wonder of
the world, all built within ten years, the idea of some
such a way has filtered through the minds of men for
a generation or more. It is interesting that it was an
English engineer, with the unkind name of Dull, who,
away back in the fifties, thought of a horse railway
from Nijni- Novgorod to some port on the Pacific. As
there were some four million horses in Siberia, the
idea was not a bad one. The Russian Government
approved of the plan, and invited estimates of cost.
But not a single estimate was sent in, and so Dull's
scheme passed to the limbo of might-have-been.
Then with the growth of railways in Europe came
other Siberian plans, to throw a railway over the Ural
mountains to the mining regions. After years of
rejection and re-consideration such a line was made.
Then other lines were made, chiefly to get into touch
with the trading centres in Siberia on the banks of
the rivers. And no country in the world has such
navigable rivers as Siberia. Look at a fair-sized map,
and you will see there is a cobweb of them — the Obi,
the Yenisei, the Lena, the Amur, with a hundred
tributaries. But like a vision — as we sometimes think
it will be possible some day to go to America by
airship — kept floating before the brains of engineers
the idea of one continuous line from Moscow to the
Pacific. Then one morning came the order from the
Czar of All the Russias, " Let it be done."
And it was done. And I was now riding over it
in as comfortable a carriage as I want anywhere.
The train was certainly slow, so slow and easy that
it was possible to shave even when at its topmost
express speed of fifteen miles an hour.
76 THE SEAL SIBERIA.
The cuttings were few and the banks few. The
route of least resistance was followed, and if there
were any hump of ground in the way the line went
round it rather than through. The result was that
the track, for the most part, was just a foot of earth
shovelled up from either side. The sleepers or ties
were thrown on this, and the rails clamped.
There could not be much speed on a way like this.
Now and then the coaches side-rolled in an uncom-
fortable manner, showing there had been unevenness
in the metal-lajdng. But this was occasionally. As
a rule the train was steady, and it was possible to
sleep the night through without a single awakening.
Already it has been discovered ohat the track has
not been sufficiently ballasted, and that the rails are
altogether too light for the traffic, which is becoming
heavy. So, now, for long stretches, the line is
being freshly ballasted and relaid. I saw thousands
of workmen, broad built, but not tall, with dark,
heavily bearded countenances, men of sturdiness.
They are all rough-clad. They are hundreds of miles
from any town. They are confined to this little open
streak, shcing like a knife through the pines.
They stood aside, and rubbing with hairy arms
the sweat from their brow, gave a good-natured nod
to anybody with head pushed out of the window.
They had temporary huts, and yet hardly huts, for they
were often nothing more than a slanting roof made of
sleepers, beneath which they could crawl and sleep.
I often looked out in the dawn and saw them
taking their first meal of tea and brown bread. I
never saw them take anything else at any other meal.
They lived on tea and brown bread, and didn't
VAGRANT NOTES BY THE WAY. 11
look weaklings. Once, or, at the outside, twice a
week they had beef at a meal. Their wages were
lOd. a day.
It was always a striking scene as darkness came,
and when the engine fires threw long shafts of Hght
up to the sky and among the black foliage, to pass a
camp of these men by the forest side, their kettles
boiling over a heap of crackling twigs, and they
themselves lounging on the ground, dead-tired men,
and the fire-light playing on their dark Slavonic
countenances.
All along the line, for thousands of miles, are
good-conduct convicts, who spend their lives in little
huts, always a verst apart, and signal with green flags
that the road is clear. Many of them looked far
above the railway labourers in intelligence. But on
the faces of them all was an abiding sadness born of
the loneliness of the life they lead, with never the
shadow of hope for the future.
At night it is a green lamp that is used. Many
an hour towards midnight I stood on the gangway
between the carriages and ticked off the green lights
as we spun along. Away down the black avenue
would appear a tiny green speck. As the carriages
rumbled over the metals it would get bigger. Just
distinguishable in the darkness was the figure of a
man holding the lamp high up. He and his light
would be lost the instant it was passed. But when all
the train had gone by he turned and showed the hght
the other way. I instinctively turned and looked
ahead again. And yonder in the distance was
another tiny green speck.
,'; Just in itself there is nothing much in such
78 THE REAL SIBERIA.
a simple signal. It is, however, when you think
there are thousands of these men, and that a signal
started to-day at Moscow runs for eleven days until
it is broken on the banks of Lake Baikal, beyond
Irkutsk, that the twinkling green lights get a peculiar
interest.
There is one thing to be said for the Trans-
Siberian Railway — that hardly ever does a train
arrive behind time. Indeed, I have known the train
run into a station twenty minutes before time,
and as a rule it is five minutes in advance.
At first you find the time-table a Chinese problem.
It took me a whole morning to grasp it. First you
find your watch doesn't tally with the obvious time of
day, and when you look at the station clock that
clock is unmistakably hours behind. You see the
train is down to arrive at a particular place at
a particular time, say half-past seven; but you
know it is actually mid-day. There is confusion,
which is due to the line running continuously
towards the sun.
To keep things in order, however, the railway
authorities ignore the sun, and keep Petersburg time.
So in Eastern Siberia, when the sun is setting, the
station clock will indicate lunch time. Therefore,
first of all, the time-table shows Petersburg time.
But as every station is about ten miles from the
town it is supposed to serve, intending passengers
cannot be expected to make a special trip to find
railway time. Accordingly, on the time-table is
printed in red the local time as well You personally
want local sun time, and, when you have mastered
the time-table so far, you set your watch in the
VAGRANT NOTES BY THE WAY. 79
morning by the red figures. But when you glance
at your watch towards evening you find something
wrong, that your watch is quite ten minutes behind
local time. You marvel, think your watch has got
out of repair, and what a nuisance this is in a country
like Siberia. Suddenly, however, you condemn your-
self as a dunderheaded idiot for not understanding
before that local time is continuously changing.
It is endless worry trying to keep pace. I didn't
try. Each morning I just put my watch ten minutes
ahead of the local time, and was content with its
being correct, there or thereabouts, for the rest of
the day.
As the clanging of the station bell gave plenty of
warning when the train proposed to go on, the halts
were not to be ignored. It was possible to have a
pleasant walk. Half the train-load turned out, and,
while elders just sauntered about, the younger ones
pushed among the undergrowth or dived into the
forest, and came back with berries or tangles of bright
red creeper. There was a young fellow and his wife
travelling in the same corridor car as myself They
were very young, and he was going east to make his
fortune. Always when the train stopped they set ofi
hand-in-hand to the woods, and came running back,
panting, at the last clang of the bell. But the girl
had a bunch of pretty wild flowers. Their carriage
must have been a perfect bower.
A fine bridge spans the Yenisei River near
Krasnayarsk, a town beyond the great forest and
lying in a plain encircled with hiUs — really a pretty
place. A cathedral of sweUing proportions gives
dignity to it. It cost £70,000, and was presented by
80 TBE REAL SIBERIA.
a fortunate gold-finder. The same gold-finder gave
Krasnayarsk beautiful public gardens, considered the
finest in Siberia, though that does not mean much.
There is also a museum presented by a rich merchant.
Indeed, in all the great towns of Siberia the men
who have amassed wealth — many of them sons of
convicts, absolutely ignorant of the outer world,
often leading a vicious life — vie with one another in
beautifying their native place. The favourite thing
is to build a church.
81
CHAPTER VIII.
THE PARIS OF SIBERIA.
The great lumbering train, travel-smeared with eight
days' run from Cheylabinsk, made a last wayside
stop.
That the greatest city ot Siberia was at hand was
shown in the altered appearance of the passengers as
they sprang from the cars and hastened to the buffet
for tea, coffee, and fresh rolls. Men who had worn
the same flannel shirt for a week came forth in white
front and collar and bright tie. Razors had been
busy, for many a ten days' scrub of whisker was
gone. Women whom I had seen with light shawl
thrown over head and shoulders fluttered in the glory
of tailor-made jackets and radiant hats.
The only folk who still wore the same clothes,
the bright shirts and patched baggy trousers and
cumbrous big boots, and who hadn't shaved or
washed or combed, were the peasants.
At the wayside station were other passengers
waiting. They were boys and girls from ten to
sixteen, the lads in grey, with a black belt round the
waist and a peaked cap, and on their backs cow-
hide bags containing school-books — smart lads
going into Irkutsk to the Gymnasium. The girls
were dressed exactly the same as you find school-
girls of the same age in Leeds or Manchester or
Edinburgh. They carried their school-bags neatly
strapped and behaved demurely, as young misses
82 TEE REAL SIBERIA.
should, though their brothers were noisy youngsters,
crowding into the same carriage and yelling and
behaving exactly as their Anglichani cousins fiye
thousand miles away behave when they go from their
suburb to school in the big town.
It was a raw, grey morning, that Thursday, Sep-
tember 5th, as the train crawled upon the wooden
bridge spanning the dead blue Irkut river, broad,
sullen, and strong, sweeping to the mighty Yenisei,
and emptying thousands of miles away within the
Arctic circle. Over the low-hanging fog peered the
dome of a cathedral, and great buildings loomed.
There was the whistling and shrieking of engines.
As we waited on the bridge for the signal to go on
I thought of the stop on Grosvenor Bridge, over the
Thames, before the south country trains rumble into
Victoria Station.
Slowly we went on. There was a road crossing,
with a mass of carts and people waiting till the train
had passed. The axles creaked through a goods yard.
Then, before we quite realised it, we were in Irkutsk
Station. Porters boarded the train like banditti, and
fought with one another to carry baggage. The
corridors were blocked, and people got angry, and
there was swearing and indignation, and — well, the
scene was not at all peculiarly Siberian, It might
have been any European station.
When my belongings were packed on a droshki,
away I was carried, humpity-bumpity, over the vile,
uneven road. I felt I and the droshki were playing
a game of cup and baU. I was caught every time.
There was a tributary of the Irkut to be crossed,
the Angara, by a jolting, uneven bridge of boats.
THE PARIS OF SIBERIA. 83
We banged across it. And so we were in Irkutsk,
four thousand miles east of Moscow, further east,
indeed, than Mandalay : a thriving, josthng, gay city
— " the Paris of Siberia " you call it when you want
to please.
It is not a description I would apply myself.
Irkutsk is more hke a restless, bustling Western
American town near the region of gold diggings.
There is one street two miles long, and all the others
are at right angles.
It is a white and green town. Most of the build-
ings are stucco-faced, whitewashed, with sheet-iron
roofs painted green. The effect is one of cleanness
and coolness.
The weather during my stay of nearly a week was
exquisite. All day long the sky was of Italian blue-
ness. There was not a cloud anywhere. The middle
of the day was torrid, and to walk along the sunny
side of the street was to do so blinkingly.
The nights were nipped with frost. In warmest
summer the earth, six feet beneath the surface, is
frozen. The altitude of the place is some thirteen
hundred feet. The air is dry, and I was told there isn't
a single case of consumption among the sixty-five
thousand inhabitants.
In the old days all the caravans of Chinese tea,
after a long, slow march across the bleak Gobi desert,
came to Irkutsk. The caravans now are but shadows
of what they -were. Prosaic steamships and more
prosaic railways have done much to send tea another
way. Still, there are thousands of tons brought into
Irkutsk, caked like black brick, for there are old-
fashioned Russians who declare that tea loses its
84 THE REAL SIBERIA.
flavour if it gets within breath of sea air. They must
have tea that has crossed the Gobi on camel back, and
been hauled into Irkutsk on sledges in winter. They
are willing to pay for it. Modern business methods
have, however, travelled to the Far East. I remember,
a year or two back, when at Hankow, on the Yang-tze
river, the centre of the Chinese tea trade, a Kussian
merchant laughingly telling me he sent aU his tea by
sea, round by Hong Kong, Singapore, Ceylon, the
Suez Canal, and the Bosphorus, to Odessa; that it
was sold at Moscow as " overland tea," and that not a
single tea drinker was the wiser. Still, in Irkutsk
there are men who have become millionaires in roubles
six times over out of the tea trade.
There are more men, however, who have become
millionaires out of gold. Irkutsk is in the middle of
the gold district, stretching far down the banks of the
Lena, far into the mountains of Trans-Baikal, and also
among the fastnesses bordering MongoHa, only a
htmdred miles away. The law is being modified, but
till recently all the gold from mines in East Siberia
had to pass through the Government Laboratory at
Irkutsk. Only about hajf of it did. Even then six
hundred million roubles worth of gold passed through
in the last thirty years — that is 1,173,456 pounds
avoirdupois of gold.
There are stacks of yellow ingots at the Irkutsk
Laboratory that would make the mouths of Bank of
England directors water. Two old men guard it at
night. A force of Cossacks formerly guarded the gold*
But one evening they marched off with, the lot.
Thereupon the mind of the Kussian authorities went
to work. Their reasoning was thus : " It is dangerous
TEB PARIS OF SIBERIA. 85
to have a bouy of stalwart fellows on guard, for they
might up and away with the gold any hour. It would
be much better to have two old men who couldn't
carry a bar between them." The possibility of these
two being hit on the head some night with a mallet
was lost sight of.
The other half of the gold has been squandered in
riotous living. If you are a miner, and have stolen
gold, you must dispose of it somehow. In side streets
are greasy, blue-bloused Chinamen, ostensibly dealers
in tea. Though never a cake of tea enters their stores,
they grow rich. Their enemies say they buy the
stolen gold.
How to get gold out of Russian territory without
discovery requires cuteness. But the ways of the
Chinaman have become poetically proverbial. Even
Chinamen die. And a dead Chinaman must sleep his
long sleep in his native land. So his good brother
Chinamen in Irkutsk embalm him, and put him in a
box, and burn candles over him, and send him away
to rest with his fathers.
Peeping through a keyhole at an embalming
operation not long ago, the Irkutsk police saw gold
dust blown through a tube up the nostrils into the
empty skull. So they discovered why the Chinese
were so anxious to give the soul of their dead brother
peace by burial at home. His head was to serve as
carrier of gold till he reached the Flowery Land, and
then the dust was to be extracted.
The Irkutsk people and Siberians generally have,
I found, " a guid conceit " of themselves. They say
they are Russians with all the latest improvements.
I talked through an interpreter with a good many
86 TEE REAL SIBERIA.
of them that week, from his Excellency the Governor-
General and mine-owners worth a million sterling to
the hall porter at my hotel and the droshld driver
who took me about. They each and all had a gleam
of satisfaction in the eye when they asked, "Don't you
think Irliutsk is one of the finest cities you have ever
seen ? "
It is getting ahead in public buildings. The Greek
Cathedral is an imposing building of heavy-domed
architecture. There is a resplendent Opera House
that cost £32,000. There is a museum of all things
Siberian from the days of the mammoth to the latest
device in gold-washing, in charge of an intelligent
young Eussian. There is a school of art, a public
library, and, besides the g3n3Qnasium for the better class
boys and a high school for the better class girls, there
are thirty-two other schools, and all sorts of philan-
thropic institutions, including an orphan home.
The town is under the control of a municipality,
elected every four years. It consists of sixty members,
and the mayor is chosen from their number. The
rates imposed are slight. Still I have seen some
shrugging of the shoulders as to what becomes of all
the money.
There are houses which for outward appearance
rival some in Park Lane. The restaurant where I
lunched and dined each day was Parisian, save that
there was one of those huge hurdy-gurdy organs
playing archaic music-hall tunes. Fancy " A Bicycle
Made for Two " being played in Eastern Siberia !
The shops are fine. You can buy anything in
them — even English patent medicines. There are
drapery stores that seem like a bit of Regent Street.
AFTERNOON SCENE IN IRKUTSK.
tro?
THE HOTEL DEKKO AT IRKUTSK.
TEE FABIS OF SIBERIA. 87
The hairdresser's shop near my hotel was as well fitted
up as any such estabhshment on the Boulevard des
ItaHens. The electric light blazed everywhere.
And yet with all these there is a rawness about
Irkutsk that made me exclaim a hundred times, " It
is just like a mushroom city in Western America."
The roads were no better than tracks, either all
dust or all mire. The pavement was a side walk of
boards, some of which were missing. A grand new
building had as neighbour a rough wooden shanty.
AU the sanitary arrangements were insanitary.
Everything costs about three times as much as it
does in London.
There is a small fortune awaiting the man who
wUl build a good hotel. There are several hotels, but,
while they are all dear, they are all dirty. I have
met several Europeans here — Europeans as distinct
from Russians — and after mutual agreement that the
popular idea in England and America about Siberia is
all wrong, the conversation has invariably turned to
the domestic habits of the Russian people — which are
not cleanly — then to the filthy state of the Irkutsk
hotels, and finally — not a polite topic perhaps — to the
size, behaviour, and intelligence of the Siberian bug.
There was a long-shanked American gold-digger —
who wore a frock-coat, flannel shirt, brown felt hat,
while cigars stuck out of one waistcoat pocket and
the business end of a tooth-brush stuck out of the
other — who betwixt oaths and the ejection of tobacco
juice declared he has no pity, but with his six-shooter
plugs them through the heart at sight. Then a
mild Britisher described how the previous night, as
an inspection of the walls of his room was not satis-
88 TEE REAL SIBERIA.
factory, he pulled his bed into the middle of the room
and encircled it with insect powder. He saw the
enemy approach, but that barrier was not to be got
over. Then they held a consultation, crawled to the
wall, crawled up it, crawled along the ceiling till just
above the bed, and then dropped ! You see, even the
stories in Siberia get a Transatlantic flavour.
Between five and seven in the evening — when the
heat of the day is softening, and the chill of night has
not set in — all Irkutsk, fashionable Irkutsk, aU who
are somebody or who think so. Government officials,
officers, their wives and daughters, the wives and
daughters of the millionaires, Tom, Dick, and Harry,
Betsy, Jane, and Mary, are to be seen on the main
boulevard called the Bolshoiskaia.
Cyclists go whizzing past; a man comes tearing
by in a light-built American gig with his body bent,
his arms outstretched, just showing the paces of his
horse; a neat carriage drawn by three black, long-maned
horses, the two outside animals running sideways —
quite the "swagger" thing in Russia — rolls along.
The two gorgeously-clad ladies, its occupants, receive
the sweeping bows of the young officers. Several
ladies and gentlemen taking horse exercise advance
at a trot, and it is noticed the ladies are sitting astride
the saddle. I cannot say it struck me as a " horrid
exhibition." The dress was of dark blue with a sort
of short petticoat. Indeed, to my pagan mind, it
appeared rather becoming.
If of the towns I know I sought one that Irkutsk
is really suggestive of, I would select San Francisco.
Physically they are unlike. But the social atmo-
sphere is the same. There is the same free-and-easy,
THE PARTS OF SIBERIA. 89
happy-go-lucky, easy-come, easy-go, devil-may-care
style of living.
All the business is one of dealing, importing
European goods, re-selling to far-away towns in
Siberia, working mines, buying skins, and exporting
to Europe. The smash-ahead commercial people
here are Russians from the Baltic provinces, reaUy
Germans. They are all energy. The Eussian him-
self — with that ineradicable strain of the Tartar in
him — is more dilatory. The impulsive Britisher or
American, hustling about, is to him something of a
madman — clever, but stiU mad.
Money-making in Irkutsk has been so easy for
several generations that the new whirl that has come
into the town with the Trans-Siberian Railway has
startled even the millionaires. They are sturdy old
men, most of them, with character written deep on
their strong faces. For all the new-fangled Western
ideas that have swept into the town they have a Httle
contempt. Several of the wealthiest still keep to
their rude peasant clothes.
But Irkutsk is beginning to put on airs, and even
a grimy millionaire in red shirt and dirty top-boots
wiU not be tolerated in the fashionable restaurants.
A police order was issued recently that anyone not
wearing a white shirt and collar could be refused
admittance. Also there are notices stuck up request-
ing the guests not to get drunk, but to remember
they belong to a civilised country!
Some of these millionaires — one named Khaminofif,
who came to Irkutsk half a century ago as a carter,
died recently, and left eleven million roubles made
out of tea, skins, and gold — have travelled in Europe.
90 TEE REAL SIBERIA.
They have seen London, Paris, and Vienna. " Ah ! "
said one of them to me, " I was glad to get home.
After all, there is no place like Siberia ! "
The intellectual people of the town are the
political exiles. They have suffered for their opinions
by being banished to Siberia. But for the fact, how-
ever, that they cannot return to Russia, they lead
exactly the same life as any other resident. Most
of them are clerks in offices, and some hold exceed-
ingly good appointments. Five years ago an English
girl, who went out to Irkutsk as governess to a wealthy
family, married a political exile. She submitted to
the conditions of her husband's life. She can now
never leave the country.
Apart from the political exiles, the town is
besmirched with the criminal class, the really
degraded. You have to see the men in prison to
understand even a little of the brute nature of many
of these people.
There are great prisons around Irkutsk. To thesp
for generations men have been sent from Russia to
expiate murder and unmentionable horrors. At the
end of their imprisonment they have been released.
But the Russian authorities have not taken them
back to Russia. They left them free to do as they
liked — preferring they should stay in Siberia. The
men made for the big towns, chiefly Irkutsk, because
it is the gold centre. Accordingly a great part of the
population consists of such men and the children of
such men. No wonder, therefore, there is, on an
average, one murder a week in the town. There are
drunken quarrels, and then a hit over the head with
a spade. Life is held cheap, and murders are
THE CHIEFS OF IRKUTSK PR (SON
l!ii'^^l«!^!i«''>«f.H|
^ -If
Ui
A GROUP OF CONVICTS WITH HEADS HALF-SHAVEN
THE PARIS OF SIBERIA. 91
committed in order to steal a few sMlIings. Robberies
with violence are common. Burglary is prevalent.
Yet there are hardly any police in the town. Every-
body is supposed to look out for himself It is
dangerous to leave the main street after dark without
a revolver. The timid householder opens his window
and fires a shot before going to bed, just to inform
prowlers there are firearms in the house.
You can drive along the Bolshoiskaia at eleven
o'clock at night and not see a soul. But if you go
into the big restaurants you find them crowded, and
they remain so until three and four in the morning.
There is a noted restaurant that I visited. The
place was full of men and women, eating and drink-
ing and smoking. There was a platform, where a
troupe of girls from Warsaw sang lewd songs, and
then came and drank champagne with the audience.
It was a replica of a San Francisco sink.
And yet all this was four thousand miles east of
Moscow. When I got to my room I looked at my
map, put my finger on Irkutsk, and tried to realise I
was in Siberia. Facts somehow did not seem to fit
in with a life's conception of the land.
CHAPTER IX.
IN IRKUTSK PRISON.
Well I remember as a boy being thrilled — more than
any Red Indian story ever thriUed — by Mr. George
Kennan's lurid descriptions of prison life in Siberia.
These descriptions thrilled others besides a school-
boy. The world shivered at the enormities per-
petrated in the snow- driven land beyond the
Urals.
" Only Russia could be so cruel ; a civilised country
would shrink from such barbarities," said the horror-
stricken.
And since those days there simmered in my mind
a curious craving to see this gaunt land of Siberia,
and let my own eyes gaze on the starved wretches
sent to living death.
In St. Petersburg, in Moscow, all along the Trans-
Siberian line, I came across Britishers who had no
love for the Russian, who sneered at his dilaloriness,
swore at his bribe-seeking proclivities, showed disgust
at his personal habits. Yet, when I mentioned
Mr. Kennan's brilliant and startling story of his
wanderings, I was always met with an " Ach ! " and a
shrug of the shoulders.
Well, in spite of hearing this — and occasionally
something stronger — from every Britisher in the
country, I kept an open mind. If opportunity came,
I would have a look at a prison myself.
So during a talk with his Excellency the Governor-,
IN IRKUTSK PRISON. 93
General of the Irkutsk province, I asked if he had
any objection to my seeing the Irkutsk prison ?
" Not at all, but I think the Alexandrovski prison,
seventy versts from here, would be better."
I had thought of Alexandrovski, the largest prison
in the country, but considered seeing that was out of
the question. I accepted the Governor-General's
suggestion, and said I would go there on my return
journey through Siberia. Very well ! Could I now
go to the local gaol ? Certainly ! When ? Any
time ! To-morrow ? Yes ! After breakfast ? Any
time convenient to yourself!
So the next morning, accompanied by an inter-
preter, I drove out to the Irkutsk prison.
It was not the gloomy, sullen-stoned, slit-windowed,
iron -barred structure such as are our prisons at home.
The front showed a two-storied, whitewashed building.
The sides and backs were walled with pine-tree logs,
tightly set together, and aU sharply pointed at the
top. Sentry-boxes were stationed at every thirty
yards, and Kussian soldiers in white blouses and
white caps paraded up and down, carbine on shoulder.
I was met by the Governor, a short, kindly-looking
man, who kept his hands in his pockets except when
lighting another cigarette, and by the Inspector of
Prisons, a tall, fair-whiskered man in white and gold
uniform.
After the preliminary introductions the inner
wooden door, not iron-studded, was thrown open, and
then there was a rather slim, ramshackle iron gate
to go through. We were now in the exercise yard — a
nice open space, planted with smallish pines and
with plenty of seats about.
94 THE EEAL SIBERIA.
A crowd of several hundred men, coarse-featured,
and mostly bearded, all in loose white linen clothes,
were scurrjdng to their dormitories on the shouted
order of the Governor. A jangling sound struck my
ear. I noticed many of the men wore chains fastened
about the legs.
The convicts gave a backward glance at their
visitors.
" Where are they going ? " I inquired.
"Back to their cells. They have four hours'
recreation a day, two hours in the morning and two
in the afternoon. I thought you would like to see
them in their cells."
" Do you restrict them in talking ? "
" Oh, no, they just do as they like, except that
they must not sing. We have 700 men here, and
some very good singers. These are in the chapel
choir, and have a dormitory to themselves and practise
frequently."
We took a promenade of the entire building, with
two armed attendants in our wake. The corridors
were whitewashed, with sanded floors. The doors
were of heavy wood with iron gratings.
The keys were turned and the bolts pulled. So
we passed into a low-roofed but well-lighted
room, with fifty or sixty men standing in a rough
line.
"Good-morning, men," said the Governor, and
they replied, " Good-morning, sir."
The prisoners had the brutal features always seen
in the criminal classes, the heavy jaw, the low
forehead, the cunning eye. Most were thieves, but
also there were accused men among them awaiting
m IRKUTSK PBISON 95
trial ; and the mixture of both condemned and un-
tried struck me as unfair to the latter.
I picked out men, and through my interpreter
asked for what they were in prison. They answered
readily. One young man said he was serving six
months for stealing a coat — which wasn't true, for he
had bought it from an unknown man. Thereat the
other prisoners laughed.
" What do they do here ? " I asked.
'' What they like, except that they must keep
their cells clean.''
And clean they were. There was a place to wash
in ; one or two reHgious books were on the table ; on
the wall was a cheap oleograph of the Czar, and in
a corner was an icon or sacred picture.
What attracted me was the informal relationship
between Governor and prisoners. The men talked
without any restraint, made requests, and even jests.
We visited cell after cell, with the same kind of
occupants, and each always neat and clean.
Noticing how insecurely guarded the whole place
was, I asked if ever there was any insurrection ?
" In my predecessor's time," said the Governor,
" there was, because the food was bad. But I can't
say the men were dissatisfied. Indeed, the prison is
always filled up in our harsh and long winter with
men charged with petty thefts. They want to get into
prison to secure food and shelter."
Next I was shown hardened criminals — men in
solitary confinement. They were brought out of their
cells into the better light of the corridor so that I
might photograph them.
There was one deep-chested, hirsute man, with
96 TEE REAL SIBERIA.
clouded brow, who stood like a log with his chains
hanging about him.
The next was a wiry little fellow, with short,
pointed beard and very bright, beady eyes. He was
the most notorious housebreaker in Siberia. He
laughed and joked, and admitted with a certain pride
his expertness. " I know it is wrong to housebreak,"
he said merrily, when I questioned him ; " but, then, for
working one gets so little money, and if people are
not able to take care of their property they deserve
to lose it."
We went to another yard, all noise. Here iron-
work and carpentry — chiefly the making of bedsteads
and doors and windows — were in fuU swing. Except
that the men were all clad in a kind of white overall,
very badly fitting — all prison clothes are made for men
six feet high, and those who are not that length must
accommodate themselves as best they can, and ludi-
crous do the short fellows look — there was nothing
to distinguish it from an ordinary workyard. Here
the men were of a more intelligent type, and looked
contented and industrious, though I dare say they
were not so energetic when the Governor turned his
back.
These men receive a small wage, which is placed
to their account, and draw it on leaving the gaol —
that is, if they have not spent it, for one of the odd
things I came across was a prison shop where men
who would like some delicacy beyond prison fare can
get French bread, cheese, sausages, sardines, and other
things, but neither drink nor tobacco. No money
passes, but any money the prisoner has, or earns, or
has sent to him by friends, is kept in an account book,
A GROUP OF CONVICTS.
FIVE WOMEN WHO HAD MURDERED THEIR HUSBANDS.
IN IRKUTSK PRISON. 97
and the men can feast to their hearts' content till
funds are exhausted.
After that we went tg the kitchen. Dinner was in
preparation, borch, a thick vegetable soup, with about
a quarter of a pound of meat floating in each plate —
the ordinary Russian fare. A bowl of it was brought
to me, with a wooden spoon, and I found it as good as
I have had at Russian railway stations. Each prisoner
gets some such dish as this every midday. Also he
gets three pounds of bread, and tea to drink, morning
and evening.
Next we visited the part of the prison where were
the worst criminals sent from European Russia.
They were on their way to work in the mines, and to
spend their years in Saghalien, the prison island in
the Far East, and which is the Russian Botany Bay.
Most of them were murderers. They looked it.
One could have no pity for them. They were
desperadoes. They all wore long grey felt cloaks,
nearly touching the ground. They were all chained,
and walked with a jangle-jangle at every step. But
the most distinctive thing about them was that the
right side of the head, half of it, was clean shaven.
They came into the yard so I rtiight photograph
them. It required but quick action and they could
have slain the six of us — the Governor, inspector,
myself and interpreter, and two warders — and made
good their escape.
" Do these men ever escape ? " I was fain to ask.
" Yes, sometimes. But our police system is such
that they are nearly always captured.
" In the summer time a man can wander the
country ; but when winter comes he must make for a
H
98 TEE BBAL SIBERIA.
town. Then, unless lie has murdered some travellhig
peasant in order to get his passport, he is sure to be
re-arrested. The usual practice of convicts, when the
police lay hold of them because they have no passport,
is to be a mystery, refusing to give their names, to
say where they come from, or indeed anything. These
are hard cases to deal with, because while they can be
suspected, as they have no passport, it is impossible to
fully punish them because we have no evidence they
are reaUy escaped convicts. They make for a town a
long way from their prison, so that recognition is nigh
impossible."
We then left the main prison in order to visit that
for women. We walked through a village of shanties
to what looked the best house in the place. The
Governor turned the handle of the gate, he went into
the yard — a higgledy-piggledy place littered with old
bricks and the rubbish of some house that had been
demolished — and I saw some rather slatternly women
sitting about, and some children playing with a
kitten.
" I'll send for the matron," said the Governor.
"Is this the prison?" I asked in some amaze-
ment.
" Yes, this is the only prison we have in Irkutsk
for women."
It was just a large-sized ordinary house abutting
on the street, but not a single soldier to see. I
couldn't help laughing.
The matron was a large-boned, commanding
woman, most suitable for the post, and was a little
flustered at this unexpected visit.
Wi&out ado we walked into a big lower room.
IN IRKUTSK PRISON. 99
There was not a pleasant atmosphere. It was a
scorching hot day, and there were no windows open.
There were three long, slightly sloping shelves
running along either wall. These did duty as beds.
There were women sprawling about, half of them with
children.
The scene reminded me of a visit I once made to
a cheap lodging-house for women in the East-End of
London. The place was far behind the men's prison
for cleanliness. The smell was indeed sickening.
There seemed to be a lot of unnecessary old clothing
lying about. The women, who were sitting in groups
Avhen we disturbed them, were unkempt, and most
of the children would have been benefited by a wash.
There were forty women and' about twenty children.
" What are these women here for ? " I asked.
" Everything from petty theft to murder."
" Show me some of your murderesses ? "
The matron called on five or six women to stand
on one side. There was nothing to distinguish them
from the ordinary slothful peasant women. One,
however, was taUer and better looking. Her features
were clear cut, and her hair dark. There was a
sinister, angry gleam in her eyes, as though she
resented our presence.
" That," said the matron, " is our recent comer.
She is a Jewess, and she is here because she poisoned
her husband."
The thing, however, that would not get out of my
mind was the absurdity of the place as a prison, so
far as we understand prisons.
" Eeally," I demanded, " do you mean to say these
women don't go away ? " -
100 TRE HEAL SIBERIA.
" Well," I was told, " one went away in the spring.
The usual roll call was made in the evening, and she
did not answer. We were surprised at her going, but
we were more surprised three days later when she
came back. She explained that she wanted to see
her lover, and as men are not allowed on Sunday,
which is the visitors' day, she just went off, and after
seeing him came back again."
I returned to Irkutsk town with thoughts about a
Siberian prison very different from those I had when
I first set foot in Eussia. It was the first prison I
had come across. There was no hesitation about my
visiting it, and I have set down all exactly as it
impressed me.
The gruesome romance that has blossomed around
the Russian exile system is, I am inclined to think,
the outcome of the underground methods of police.
Banishment has a tinge of the theatrical in it, and the
procession that years ago set out for Moscow — soldiers
first, then dangerous criminals in chains, then women,
then other prisoners, then the pitiable spectacle of
wives and children following their husbands or fathers
into exUe, the sympathy shown by the sightseers in
the streets, who gave the exiles money and forced
clothing and food upon them — made a picture so
dramatic that no wonder the hearts of the sympa-
thetic were touched.
A two years' march to Saghalien — despite the fact
that there was no marching in winter, and that in
summer the distance was twenty miles a day, two days'
walking and one day's rest — had something awful
in it, especially as these exiles were dead to the world,
and news of them hardly ever re-crossed the Urals.
IN IRKUTSK PRISON. 101
There are things in Russia which no man with
Western training can admire. The government is
autocratic. But it is not despotic. And I say that
because, just as I resisted looking at things through
rosy glasses, I also endeavoured to regard them with
unprejudiced eye.
Before I left St. Petersburg it was my fortune
to have a chat with a very distinguished Russian.
What he said to me was this : '' You British people
don't understand us. You think because we have
no representative institutions we must be averse to
change. My dear sir, Russia has made tremendous
strides this last half-century, and she would not
have made them had there been popular govern-
ment. When you talk of popular government you
don't understand what that would mean in Russia.
Do you know that only three per cent, of the popula-
tion can read or write. The government is trying to
change this, but it is hard when dealing with a people
who for centuries have been serfs. I tell you that, for
a country such as ours, which has been behind other
lands so long, autocracy is the only thing that could
have lifted it to its present place among the nations."
Now a word or two about the present prison
so far as Siberia is concerned. Since the coming of
the railway, with the consequent flood of respectable
immigrants, there has been, as I have already
r-^marked, a growing feeling against Asiatic Russia
being any longer the dumping-ground of aU wrong-
doers. Though the long expected ukase putting
an end to the exile system has not yet been issued
by the Emperor, the banishment from Europe to the
further side of the Urals is dwindling out of sight
102 TEE HEAL SIBERIA.
Still, as the system is not abolished, I give what
I have learnt from independent authorities, and in
no case from Kussians.
The exiles may be divided into three groups:
first, the political offenders, in a minority, and
banished for strong insurrectionary or religious
opinions; secondly, criminals, mostly forgers and
thieves, who are sent to the big prisons in the
interior; thirdly, murderers, who are sent to Sag-
halien, where, even when the sentence is finished,
they must spend the remainder of their lives.
The political prisoners are given the best part
of the country to live in, namely, in the west. Other
prisoners are exiled nearer to the icy regions accord-
ing to the gravity of their offence. The political
prisoners may practise handicrafts, and, by special
permission, medicine. A " political " is not identified
with the criminal any more than a debtor is identi-
fied with a felon in England. Such offenders do not
travel with other prisoners in a gang. A " political ''
may be on a train going into exile. But no one
knows it besides himself and the member of the
police travelling in the same carriage. " Politicals "
get about £1 10s. a month from the Government,
but this varies according to the district to which
they are sent. Wives who accompany their husbands
are allowed 36 lb. of bread a month, but must
submit to the regulations of the 6tape. If all goes
well with a " political " he gets permission to settle
in some Siberian town with his family, but any
allowance from the Government then ceases. He is
just the same as any other resident, save that he
can never leave Siberia. If he wishes to farm, the
IN IRKUTSK PRISON. 103
Government will give him a plot of land and money
to work it. But this money must be paid back by
instalments.
Of the criminals, there are those dead to the
outer world, who lose everything — wife, children,
property, all — and those who retain wife and pro-
perty, and can return to their town when the sentence
is completed. If these second-grade convicts behave
well they are allowed to live near a prison and work
for their living, on condition that they give so much
work daily to the Government.
The chains worn are five pounds weight for the
legs and two for the wrists. A convict with a life
sentence wears chains for eight years. If the punish-
ment is twenty years' imprisonment, chains are worn
for four years. The use of the knout is absolutely
abolished. A " plet " is, however, used, and is worse.
It weighs eight pounds, with a lash of solid leather,
tapering from the handle to three circular thongs
the size of a finger. Capital punishment does not
exist in Kussia, but a flogging with the " plet " is
equivalent to a death sentence. The skilful flogger
will kill a man with six blows.
Women are never now set to work in the mines
as the men are. They are never flogged. Indeed,
what I saw in Irkutsk applies generally to female
prisoners in Siberia.
England is not loved by the Russians, and there
is not much affection in England for Russia. The
Russian believes the Englishman is the cruellest
creature on the earth ; the Englishman is quite
certain the Russian is.
And in this connection I recall a story I heard in
104 THE REAL SIBBItlA.
St. Petersburg, and told by Verstchagin, the famous
Russian painter of the horrors of war. A couple
of years ago he showed those wonderful pictures of
his in London. Englishmen took exception to his
picture depicting how, in the Indian mutiny, rebels
were shot at the cannon's mouth, because, said they,
this was likely to give an entirely false idea of how
Englishmen treated black men. Then they would
turn to his picture of Russian soldiers stringing up
Poles to trees in the snow during the Polish insurrec-
tions. " Ah," they said, " those inhuman Russians do
that to men fighting for their country. That proves
you have only to scratch a Russian to find the savage
Tartar underneath." Later on Verstchagin showed
his pictures at St. Petersburg. The Russians did
not like the representation of hanging stray Poles
on handy boughs. It gave an absolutely wrong idea.
"But ah, that picture of British killing Sepoys by
strapping them before a cannon — that just shows
what inhuman brutes the English are to all races
they want to master!"
105
CHAPTER X
SUNDAY IN SIBERIA.
You find paradox in Irkutsk as elsewhere.
Being the wildest, the most wicked city in East
Siberia, it is also the most saintly, devout, Sabbatarian
place within the realms of the Great White Czar.
Sunday is as strictly observed there as it is north
of the Tweed. In all other towns there is trade on
the Sunday. The Government, however, is the
Lord's Day Observance Society in Irkutsk, and inflicts
fine and imprisonment if you sell a pennyworth of
anything. There are two cathedrals, one new and one
old, also 25 Greek churches, two synagogues for the
Jews, and other places for other people.
There is religious liberty in Siberia — Christians,
Jews, Mohammedans, Buddhists, Sunnites, and pagans
live in peace — except that perversion from the State
Greek Church is forbidden and punishable if done.
The tinsel Byzantine decorations of many churches
you see in European Russia make the eye ache with
their gilt gaudiness. But in Siberia the churches
have mostly a quiet quaintness, a simplicity that is
effective, nothing more than Doric walls whitewashed,
a long, slightly sloping roof, green painted, and a
needle of a spire, green painted also.
At sundown on the Saturday night — the air soft,
fragrant, and full of pellucid blueness — all Irkutsk
seemed to clang with beUs calling the faithful to
prayers. It was a mellow, vibrant sound, for the bells,
many toned, were struck with wooden hammers.
lOfi THE BEAL SIBERIA.
With a friend I drove to the cathedral — a distance
from the town, as everything is in Siberia. It, how-
ever, has not the Slavonic demure prettiness of the
other churches. It is new. It is a huge domed
structure, a sort of miniature St. Peter's, stucco-faced
and drab-coloured. It stands on a sandy waste and
has a cramped appearance.
A long, covered colonnade with steps leads up to
the church, and on them squat wrinkle-faced, sore-
eyed, and twisted-Umbed old men stretching palsied
arms for charity.
At the top of the steps as we push open the glass
door, the thick aroma of incense fills the nostrils.
Dusk has fallen, and a weird gloom, broken by a
hundred taper lights, pervades the church. The cup
of the dome is blue, sprinkled with golden stars.
There are no pews or seats. A purple carpet
covers the floor, and on it are kneeling men and
women.
In front is a great screen of gold, and the candle
lights catch cornices and make them glow like shafts
from the sun. Possibly all this massed gold would
be ostentatious in the light of day. But now, in the
softness of the evening, ostentation fades away.
Everywhere are pictures of saints, and before them
stand heavy candelabra with a hundred sockets. It is
for the devout to bring their tapers, fix them, and do
reverence.
But something better than incense fiUs the air.
It is the sound of men's voices. There is no organ ;
there are no stringed instruments. There is a choir
of men, and their throats have deep richness. With
the majesty of a Gregorian chant, they sing their
SUNDAY IN SIBERIA. 107
Slavonic adoration, but tinged with pity, like the low
melody of wind on the plains.
A door in the middle of the screen swings open.
There are priests, long-haired and long- whiskered, in
heavy canonical robes, silver-twined. One, a tall man,
sallow-faced, lustre-eyed, his black beard that of a
young man, his hair falling over his shoulders, comes
forward swaying a censer. He stands on the step,
and in a voice of sweetness and strength cries,
" Gospodi pomilui " — " Lord, have mercy ! "
His face is like that of Christ — not an unusual
type among Kussian priests.
" Gospodi pomilui," responded the worshippers,
kneehng and touching the ground with their
foreheads.
Beyond the screen, within the Holy of Holies,
where lights flicker on a cross, is an older priest,
elevating his hands and praying.
Upon his prayer like a wave breaks the billow of
sound from the choristers. And the people who have
come to pray cry, " Lord, have mercy ! Lord, have
mercy ! Lord, have mercy ! " many times.
The light is dim. The tapers blink before the
gold-encompassed saints. The cathedral is full of
music and incense.
There are worshippers continually coming. They
carry tapers, some only one, some many, and as they
bow before the altar they make the sign of the cross.
Far more than half those present are women.
Here comes a lady, dark-featured, well-dressed,
with fashionable cape upon her shoulders, and on her
head a bonnet that might have come from Kegent
Street. She goes to the picture of a saint, makes
108 THE SEAL SIBERIA.
obeisance, and then she lights a taper from another
taper. To make it grip she puts the end of her taper
in the flame for a second, and presses it tight in the
gilt socket. Then she goes to the picture, kisses the
foot of the saint, and, kneeling, crosses herself, and
prays with her forehead on the ground. She moves to
another picture.
There is a peasant, heavily bearded, his sunburnt
face rugged and furrowed. He wears a red shirt,
velvet trousers, and big boots. He has no taper, but
he stands taut, like a soldier, and he crosses himself
and bows and cries, " Lord, have mercy."
The big voice of the singers soars over all, repeating
the liturgy in Slavonic.
A gentleman in frock-coat, begloved, and carrying
a cane, comes forward, takes his candle, bows, and
goes away.
A couple of slim boys, in the dull grey uniform of
the Gymnasium, hurry along. They stand, heel-
clapped, and with dexterous wrist make the cross
signs. They light their tapers. But the tapers won't
stick upright in their sockets. They are well-behaved
little fellows, but as the tapers will persist in toppling
over, the boyish sense of humour asserts itself and
they grin. At last they are fixed, and the lads stand
watching the candles with a half-amused glance,
wondering if there are to be any more tricks. No ;
they hold. Then the boys swing round, make their
bows, and hasten away.
Here comes tottering an old lady — a very old
woman, short and bent, and with a black shawl round
her head. From the rim of black shawl peers a worn
face, the upper lip fallen in, the eyes sunken and dull,
SUNDAY IN SIBERIA. 109
and yet with that beautiful resignation, shining
through the countenance, you often see on the faces of
old women whose thoughts are not of this world.
There is a picture of the Madonna and Child — the
young Mother with eyes all love looking upon her
new-born Son. Many, many tapers are before this
icon, which glows with a special radiance.
To this the old woman comes with clasped and
knotted Ixands. Her face is upturned, and the full
gleam of the tapers falls upon it. There is a yearning
in the sunken eyes. The dried, yellow lips quiver.
The bones of the old woman ache, for she groans as
she kneels. She lowers her face to the ground, and
there she stays long, a dark, crouching figure of
adoration before the picture.
When she looks up there are no tears ; only, I
Ihink, there is a brighter light in the eyes than before.
She rises. With faltering steps she goes to the
picture and reverently kisses the feet of the Child.
Then she kisses the arm that holds Him.
The old woman finds peace and comfort to her
soul. Maybe she sees the lifting of the curtain. It
is not for one of another faith to say aught in
disparagement. It is a pathetic sight. So I nudge
my companion and we come away.
Night is closing in — night with a blue sky ghtter-
ing with stars — and we walk back to town. On the
way is a real old-fashioned Siberian church, white and
green — three churches, it seems, with individual towers,
but the first and second making a staircased passage
way to the main building. We go in.
The service in the cathedral has much in it akin to
the ceremony of Rome. But here it is wholly Slavonic.
no TEE REAL SIBERIA.
Imagine this picture. A lo-w, curved ceiling, like
a cellar way, so you can touch the roof with your
hand, painted with clouds and angels looking over
them. The way is blocked with worshippers. Over
their heads, through an atmosphere hazy and choking
with incense, is a square apartment, stunted and
cramped, but with the walls covered with gilt icons,
and hundreds of candles making the place shimmer
with fire. Everybody is praying and crossing —
moudjiks, ladies, soldiers, students, peasant women.
A procession of priests, preceded by the swinging
incense burner and flanked by bearers of big candles,
marches from the Holy of Holies. The priests are in
stiff robes of gold and silver and purple, and their
black hair tumbles about the collars.
A choir of treble-tongued boys is singing shrill.
A grey-haired priest carries before him a silver-
backed volume — the Bible. He lays it on a small
lectern in the middle of the congregation. There is
a fresh burst of devotional song as the choir moves in
front of all the gold, but like shadows, as the place is
misty with incense. The elder of the priests kisses
the volume and moves away. Then the congrega-
tion, in the bedizened strangest of low- roofed chapels,
press forward and put their lips to the edges of the
book. The Saturday evening service is over. It is
quite dark when we come out. There is a lamp gleam
in some huts not far away, and in the still night
comes the barking of a dog far off.
AH over Siberia priests of the Orthodox Greek
Church are to be met — in the towns, on the prairie,
in the trains. They wear long gowns, sometimes
brown, but generally black, and they all have big,
SUNDAY IN 8IBEBIA. Ill
black, soft felt hats. Though there are to be seen
faces intellectual and refined — facial likeness to the
accepted idea of Christ is striven after — the majority
look slothful, and every one without exception that I
came across was greasy and dirty. Grease and the
dirt are hidden away under the gorgeous vestments
of high Church ceremonial, but they are repellently
apparent when a priest sits opposite while you are
having tea in a buffet.
There are two orders of these clergy, the white and
the black, or the parochial and the monastic. If he
marries, the priest must remain a simple priest. But
if celibate, he may rise to "be a bishop.
The best paid of the clergy in Siberia gets about
£120 a year, whilst the poorer clergy often have to beg
for their bread. They have much to do. There is
always a service between four and five in the morning.
There are two other services in the day. There must
be service on the birth of a child and at the death of
any one in the parish. All new buildings, school-
houses, and bridges and boats must be blessed;
children beginning a school term are blessed, and in
time of pestilence or peril there must be a continuous
prayer. All priests must fast 226 days in the year,
and monastic priests are never to eat meat. A priest
cannot indulge in theatre-going, drinking, card-
playing, or dancing.
Churches are kept in repair by parochial com-
mittees. These personally visit and determine what
tithe shall be paid by each house. All the vestments
are provided at parish expense, and are often jewelled
and very costly.
The method of administering communion is
112 THE REAL SIBERIA.
peculiar. Priests receive the bread and wine separ-
ately ; tlie laity receive them mixed, and given with a
spoon, whilst to the children only wine is given
I have mentioned rehgious liberty in Siberia.
This does not exist in Russia proper. From there,
sects objectionable to the Orthodox Church are driven
beyond the Urals. But once in Siberia they can do
much as they Hke. It is the same in politics.
Politics are tabooed in Russia, but in Siberia more
freedom is exercised.
Strange faiths appeal to the untutored mind. So
among the Siberian peasantry flourish fantastic
beliefs. There are many of them, and a narration of
some of their tenets would raise a smile.
The principal body of dissenters really worth
mentioning caU themselves Raskolniks, or Old Be-
lievers. There are quite a hundred thousand of these
in Siberia. They are the descendants of people who
were exiled from Russia in the 18th century. Their
chief peculiarity is their strict temperance and horror
of innovation. They take neither tea nor coffee.
They never smoke nor will allow anyone to smoke in
or near their dwellings. The women have a disease
called equarter brought on immediately by. the smell
of tobacco. They give short, frequent cries whilst
suffering. The Raskolniks won't look at potatoes, and
they won't eat or drink from any dish or cup used by
another.
Yet, despite their oddities, the Raskolniks are
much esteemed. They are always sober, and always
industrious — two qualities that cannot be applied to
Russians generally. ,
Sunday morning !
ON THE ROAD TO THE MONASTERY.
THE MONASTERY OF ST. INNOKENTE.
SUNDAY IN SIBERIA. 113
There is a special aroma about Sunday morning
no other morning has. It isn't the cessation of labour
in the grimy cities. I have breathed it in the far
hills of Western China, and on the 'alkali blistered
plains at the back of Nevada.
And this Sunday morning, September 8th, when
I push open my window and stand on the balcony and
hear the chiming bells in Irkutsk city, why, I might
be in England. It is beautiful, genial, and the air is
like crystal.
We are going to a famous monastery. We bargain
with a droshki driver, who declares it is seven versts
(five miles) away, but we find it is not more than four
versts. The horse is fresh and away we rattle
humpity-bumpity over the track of a road, raising
clouds of dust.
A pilgrimage to the shrine of St. Innokente is a
favourite Sunday outing with Irkutsk folk, and
owners of private droshkies are hieing, like ourselves,
along the wide road, which, if followed for a sufficient
number of thousands of miles, would land us back in
Moscow.
There is the racing, frothy Angara river to be crossed
by a ferry. A hundred yards more up the river an
anchor has been dropped. The ferry boat — which
will carry a dozen horses and droshkies — is attached
by a stout rope, and the force of the current playing
on the rudder drives the boat from side to side of the
stream, as broad as the Thames at Westminster.
The monastery stands on a heave of land beneath
the shelter of a hiU.. It is long and gaunt, and shows
pink in the warmth of the sun.
There are many pedestrians out, doing the pil-
I
114 THE REAL SIBERIA.
grimage on foot, and tlie peasants in their bright
garbs — no half tones nor dirty greens, but honest red
and green and yellow — look freshly picturesque.
There is the Irkutsk young married man pushing the
perambulator, while the wife is in the adjoining
meadow picking flowers. Here and there are stalls
where the dusty walker may buy bright pink kvass,
an innocuous cool beverage made from crushed fruit.
Every now and then I have a chuckle. Maybe it
is the loveliness of the day. More likely it is the
reiterating thought : " This Siberia ! It's not like
Siberia at all. If I tell folk at home what it is really
like they won't believe."
We run through a village with the quaintest,
tiniest little log huts imaginable. There is a fine old
fellow sitting outside the door reading a newspaper.
I jump from the droshki to take a snapshot. He
understands, and is delighted, but apologises that he
is so deaf " Never mind," I tell him in English,
tapping the camera, " that won't interfere with making
a good picture." He smiles, and raises his hat as
though he knows.
The doorway to the monastery is packed with
beggars, such a gatherii^ of lame and blind with
open sockets staring at you, and limbs festering with
disease, I never saw.
There is an open space about the church, and in
the cool of the trees Siberians are sitting. About the
door is a jostling ebb and flow of humanity We — •
that is the Britisher I had rubbed up against yester-
day and myself — gently elbow our way in.
What an uproar ! There is none of the " dim
religious light" that was so impressive last evening.
SUNDAY IN SIBERIA. 115
I
It is cruel glaring daylight, and as the eye skips from
the golden icons to the gilt screen and from the
screen to the Tgilt candelabra, all aflame with tapers,
and then to the ornate vestments of the priests, the
description " tawdry " slips from the tongue.
The church is packed to suffocation. Everybody
is standing and every woman seems to have brought
at least one child, which is crying. And a fretful
Siberian child has good lungs, and it kicks.
To the right of the doorway is a sallow priest
wearing a purple skull-cap and doing a thriving
trade in the sale of candles. On the left is a podgy,
man with a pair of scales having bickerings with
the women folk, who are buying priest-blessed bread
and trying to stuff their youngsters into quietness
with it. From the noise, they must be accusing
the man of giving short weight.
The day is stuffy, and the congregation perspire
freely, and the fumes of incense irritate the throat.
I don't know whether the chattering of the
women or the crying of the youngsters or the sing-
ing of the choir — a poor choir compared with Irkutsk
cathedral — has first place in the sound. To be
devout in such a throng is impossible. Nobody
is devout, though there is kneeling and loud
responses.
In the middle of the church, on a slightly raised
throne, sits the bishop in gorgeous apparel, grey silk
decorated with gold, and on his head a bulbous
crown of gilt. The priests up by the altar walk to
and fro chanting. He bows low with them, and the
grease from the candles he is holding trickles on the
carpet. He sweeps the candles to the right, to the
lie TSE REAL SIBERIA.
left, behind, and the congregation bow the head to
receive the blessing.
To the right centre is a bier canopied with
crimson silk and festooned with artificial flowers,
and flanked with giant candles all aflame. Here lies
the apostle of Siberia, St. Innokente. He was a
missionary who went out to China in the opening of
the 18th century. The Celestials, however, dechned
the privilege. He founded this monastery not far
from Irkutsk and died. And his body is as fresh as
the hour the breath left it ! That is what the priests
say. So it is a very holy shrine.
The crush roimd the bier is tremendous. There
is an old priest standing by the coffin, and he regu-
lates the pressure of the worshippers who desire to
give the homage of a kiss. There is a stream of
people up the steps, old and young, and they lower
their heads in reverence. There is a mother with
her child, and she bends the head of the child so it
may kiss also.
In time I get near enough to see, half expecting
to find a corpse.
No ! there is something in the shape of a human
figure, but it is all shrouded. An ebony cross inlet
with silver lies on the breast, and it is this that is
kissed.
Still the crowd presses forward. Still the children
cry and the women talk. Still the fumes of incense
rise. And more unbearable becomes the atmosphere.
" Let us leave," I pant.
How sweet is the open air, and how delicious to
sit under the trees !
The dormitories of the monks run round the
SUNDAY IN SIBERIA. 117
church. A monk is standing in a doorway, and
we go up and introduce ourselves. He is courteous.
He shows us the bare cells, and tells us there are
eighty priests Uving there. He also shows us the
bakery, and the workshops, for every priest in this
monastery follows a handicraft. We take a walk
under the trees, and he asks what nation we belong
to. When we tell him we are Angleski, he inquires
if the people in England are Christians ? We say
some of them are.
He tells us the story of St. Innokente and what
a holy man he was. Then incautiously we remark
that if the body is fresh it should be uncovered for
the people to see. He tells us of the doubting of
Thomas !
We drive back to Irkutsk, and the sultry after-
noon is drowsed away in easy chairs. The ringing
of the Sabbath bells never ends. In the evening we
join the rest of Irkutsk in making the promenade
up and down the Bolshoiskaia, the big street. Every-
body is in their Sunday best.
But with sundown the Sabbath ends. The re-
staurants fill up ; gaiety and mirth bursts forth, and
Irkutsk is its wicked self once more.
118
CHAPTER XI.
TRADE AND SOME TRIFLES.
The Eussian, as you find him in Siberia, has many
good qualities. Above all he is hospitable. This
prompts him when giving you a glass of wine to spUl
it on the table-cloth. That indicates his liberality.
To be careful and watch the pouring so that it comes
within an eighth of an inch from the rim of the
glass would mean stinginess, and such a thought is
abhorrent.
But a commission needs to be sent the length and
breadth of the Russian Empire to teach the people,
officials as well as ordinary folk, what are the table
manners of Western nations.
Said a man to me in a restaurant, " I knew at a
glance you could not be a Russian, because you were
using your knife and fork in a civilised way."
You know how a player of a kettledrum holds the
sticks — that in the right hand in a sort of grip, and
that in the left with the palm turned up and by the
two first fingers. A Russian holds his knife and fork
in the same way. He gets a piece of meat on the end
of the fork, and with it sticking up in the air bites
whilst stoking vegetables into his mouth with his
knife. There are no mustard spoons, so he dives his
knife into the mustard pot. Personally, I was regarded
as an extraordinary being because I declined to use a
serviette that evidently six other people had used.
It takes time for a Britisher to conform to the meal
TRADE AND SOME TRIFLES. 119
hours of the Eussian. There are no bacon and egga
for breakfast. Indeed, there is no breakfast at all.
You have a glass of tea, or two glasses of tea, -with
slices of lemon in it, and that serves till two, three, or
five o'clock, when you have dinner.
Before dinner it is usual to have a sekuslci. In
case you should have no appetite, there is a side table
laden with twenty dainties. You have a glass of
vodki, and toss it down your throat at one swallow.
If you are an old hand you have two, four, or six
vodkies, which put you into the best of good humour,
but unfit you for anything but gossip for the rest of
the afternoon.
Then you pick up a fork lying about — never
washed or wiped from one day's end to the other —
stick it into a sardine, or a slice of onion, or a little bit
of cheese, or some caviare, and you eat. You have just
enough of these to provoke an appetite, and when it is
provoked you sit down to dinner. In the afternoon or
evening you will drink many glasses of tea, which is,
I admit, an enjoyable occupation. Between ten o'clock
and midnight you have supper, really another dinner,
and about three o'clock in the morning you think of
going to bed.
To do things in the proper way and be correct and
Western is, of course, the ambition of Irkutsk. So
there is quite a social code. The old millionaires, who
for forty years found Irkutsk society — such as it was
before the coming of the railway — quite satisfied with
a red shirt and a pair of greased top boots, are now
'' out of it." A millionaire only becomes a gentleman
when he tucks in his shirt and wears his trousers
outside and not inside his boots. It is etiquette to
120 TEE SEAL SIBERIA.
put on a black coat between the hours of ten in the
morning and noon. No matter how sultry the
OTening is, if you go for the usual promenade and
not wear a black overcoat you proclaim you are
unacquainted with the ways of good society.
As to wealth, there is but one standard in Irkutsk.
A man is known by his furs, and his wife by her furs
and pearls. Macaulay writes somewhere about Russian
grandees coming to court dropping pearls and vermin.
I would be sorry to say things are exactly like that.
But certainly the Russian is as sparing with water as
though it were holy oil from Jerusalem.
When railway travelling a Siberian lady decks
herself in all her finery, light-coloured gowns and
feathered hats, and loads of jewellery. The English-
woman who travels in a plain tailor-made garment and
a straw hat is thought something of a barbarian.
And yet it would be unfair if I attempted to
convey the idea that Irkutsk is nothing but a wealthy,
flauntingly dressed, criminal, and licentious city.
There are the many schools, the philanthropic institu-
tions, the museum, to prove Irkutsk has another side.
Though there is no manufacturing in the town save
seven breweries, there is a thriving industry in house
building, and there is a fortune for someone who
starts a saw-mill. Most of the houses are of wood,
and every bit of it is sawn and prepared by hand.
In Irkutsk and throughout Siberia generally are
artels or associations of workmen. They make a
contract to finish a certain amount of work in a given
time for a given sum, and they share the proceeds
equally. I constantly came across wandering artels,
especially builders. These will get a peasant's cottage
TRADE AND SOME TRIFLES. 121
ready for occupation in four or five days. Indeed,
labour throughout Siberia is generally done by these
working communities, with no master between them
and the persons who want a thing done. For instance,
in many of the villages, as the Siberian can't under-
stand agriculture, the peasants find it difiicult to get
sufficient sustenance out of their land. So a foreman
is elected, a common workshop is built with common
funds, and weaving, working in bone and leather, and
other industries are carried on, and at intervals the
foreman drives away to the nearest town, and sells
the produce.
The relations between employers and employed
are all settled by strict law. Wages must be in cash ;
there must be no Sunday labour in factories, and no
arbitrary dismissal except for given offences. The
hours for women and children are limited. Fines
imposed are to be in accordance with the standard
sanctioned by the Labour Inspection Department,
and they must all be paid into a fund for sickness or
accident. Most country factories, and all factories in
towns employing a certain number of hands, must
provide a school, library, hospital, and bathroom for
free use. Strikes, as we understand them, are rigor-
ously prohibited. But when a dispute arises between
an employer and his workpeople a magistrate acts as
umpire, and his decision is final.
In Irkutsk, in Tomsk, and in Omsk, I endeavoured
to get into touch with the commercial classes, and
find out their ideas about the future of Siberia.
All the best men I came across were Russians
from the Baltic Provinces, and therefore more German
than Russian. The keenness of competition is already
122 THB REAL SIBERIA.
beginning to be felt, but it will be these men wbo will
amass gigantic fortunes within the next quarter of a
century. They admit the ordinary Kussian will have
to alter a good deal before he is a successful business
man.
The Kussian lacks energy. If a thing is to be
done he cannot see what difference it makes if it is
done to-morrow, or next week, or next month. He
is improvident and extravagant. So he finds his
property mortgaged to the Jews, and the foreigners,
or Russians of foreign extraction, making most of the
money.
On all sides I heard grumblings about the cor-
ruption of officials. There must be honest officials,
but commercial men declare the officials are con-
tinually blocking the way, not only with dilatory
red-tapeism, but by hindering everybody who will not
give enough in bribes. Indeed, I was told that the
bribing here, there, and everywhere, which cannot be
avoided, is often such that very little margin of profit
remains. The foreigners get disgusted with the oiling
of palms that must be gone through at every turn.
Here, indeed, a very pressing reform is needed, and
the best reform should be the better remuneration
of these officials. They are wretchedly paid.
The number of officials met with is simply amazing
to the man from Western Europe. One is staggered
at the thought of what must be the cost of this army
of government emploj'^es, notwithstanding their poor
pay. Every man in government service wears
uniform, and as it takes at least four Russians to do
in a post office what a girl of eighteen will do at
home, some ghmmering of an idea may be obtained
TRADE AND SOME TRIFLES. 123
of their number. In a small town through which
pass four passenger trains a day, and, say, eight
goods trains, you wiU find two, or maybe three, great
buildings. They belong to the Railway Adminis-
tration, and eighty or a hundred men will be employed.
You wonder what on earth they can find to do.
Now and then I got into conversation with
oflicials, and dropped more than a broad hint that
they wasted time, and suggested that if they intend
to do much with so wonderful and rich a land
as Siberia they must wake up. Never once did I
find them resent my attitude. They got along very
well, they said, and they didn't see why they should
race and tear about like Englishmen and Americans.
There the Eastern nature peeped out. Hurry they
don't understand.
One travelled Russian was quite candid. " It is
no good," he said ; " a Russian can't do a thing
quickly. If he tries he only makes a mess."
Till the foreigner came along, the possibilities of
Siberia only dimly entered the Russian's mind. It
has, however, been drilled into him, and just now he
is a little feverish. He doesn't know how to develop
it himself, and he is somewhat dog-in-the-mangerish
about the outsider.
The government, on the other hand, is spilling
money freely — spilhng it in the sense of getting no
return — hoping to make Western Siberia a mighty
grain-producing land.
I suppose no country on the globe has such
waterways as Siberia. Three rivers, the Obi, the
Yenisei, and the Lena, can be navigable from their
estuaries for thousands of miles. About a hundred
124 THE REAL SIBERIA.
steamers, chiefly belonging to Mr. SibiriakofF, known
as "the gold baron," because of his wealth, ply on
the Lena.
Trade, however, on the Lena has its drawbacks,
because it is more or less frozen for nine months in
the year. The Obi is more favourably situated, as it
flows into the Arctic Ocean further south, and passes
through a comparatively populous district. There
are 150 steamers on it belonging to various com-
panies ; it and its tributaries have regular navigation
for 10,000 miles. There is the Angara river here at
Irkutsk, carrying with a rush the waters of Lake
Baikal down to the Yenisei river and to the Arctic.
Vessels can get through to Baikal now. But it is not
easy, though it could be made so by a little engineer-
ing. Then you would get a waterway for 4,000 miles.
I feel hke apologising for giving this school-geography-
book information were I not aware of the misconcep-
tion there is at home about Siberia.
The Trans-Siberian Railway is in contact with all
these rivers at many navigable points, and where it
is not, branch lines are hurriedly being constructed.
Therefore everything is to hand to make Siberia
prosperous, so far as the government can provide.
But, alas, there is one thing requisite and not to be
found — energy !
Of course, there is at present a volume o£ trade.
It could not be avoided. But it is a mere scratch-
ing in the region of possibilities. I have already
described the Omsk butter trade, one ot the most
remarkable of suddenly-sprung-up industries. But
it was a Dane who saw what might be done with
Siberian butter. The government, as I have said are
TRADE AND SOME TRIFLES. 125
buying quantities ot American machinery for the
agricultural districts, but what is required is a body
of expert foreign farmers to go about giving sound
practical instruction in wheat raising. Before many
years, if that were done, and the flood of immigration
continues, Siberian wheat would be beating the wheat
of the United States and Canada out of the world's
market. The government is fostering the beet sugar
trade. It is in full swing, and I was told that in
1900 ten times as much beet sugar was produced
as in any previous year.
One or two efforts in the way of large timber
exportation have failed chiefly owing to mismanage-
ment, added to the fact that the wood was carried
in a green condition. There is a two-thousand-
mile belt of forest running right across Siberia.
Timber should therefore become one of the chief
items of Kussian export. Interior China is almost
bereft of forest vegetation, and at present gets
immense quantities of seasoned timber from Cali-
fornia. Here, then, is a market at Siberia's very door.
An interesting sight in Irkutsk is the piled-up
cases of Chinese tea, all tightly and well wrapped in
cowhide, ready to be sent to corners of the empire.
But, as I explained in a former chapter, although
Irkutsk is the distributing centre of tea, and through
tea and-gold gained its commercial eminence, tea now
plays a comparatively small part in the trade of the
city, because for years most of the tea for Russian
consumption is sent direct from Chinese ports to
Odessa. Again, with the proposed line from Irkutsk
across the Gobi desert to Pekin — a line not so much
in the air only as we Britishers would like — tea will
126 THE BEAL SIBERIA.
be sent to tlie great cities of Russia, and there will be
no need of the services of Irkutsk as a distributing
agency. However, at present all tea brought to
Russia by overland route comes to Irkutsk and it is
estimated that some forty to sixty million pounds'
weight reach there every year. Indeed, in the busy
season — in winter, when the transit is quick and
cheap because of sledges — as many as six thousand
boxes of tea are often delivered daily.
There is coal to any abundance all over Western
and Central Siberia. That I saw did not strike me
as good. It is nevertheless used by the engines over
long sections of the Siberian railway. Until, however,
some finer seam is struck, Siberia has at present little
chance of a successful market for her coal. As to
using it herself, that is not at all likely when there is
so much wood to be had simply for the fetching.
Now, I went to Siberia on a mission of curios-
ity, and with no other enthusiasm than that of
the man fond of travelling and seeing new lands.
But he would be blind indeed who could pass through
this country and not appreciate what could be done
with it if^ — well, if England had it.
But here I have a regret. Siberia is open to
British trade. And yet between Chelyabinsk and"
Vladivostock Britain takes the place of a very
bad third. Germany comes first and America
second. I saw German and American wares con-
stantly. The only article of British manufacture that
stood ahead was sauce. I saw advertisements of
British agricultural machinery, but I never saw a
machine. I met dozens of Germans engaged in
commerce. I only met two Britishers so engaged.
TBABE AND SOME TRIFLES. m
One of these represented an American firm, and the
other a French firm. Whenever I noticed a ware-
house for machinery or agricultural implements I
went in. Generally American, but sometimes Ger-
man. When I asked if there was any English they
said no, but produced, thinking I would like to read
them, elaborately illustrated catalogues from en-
gineering firms. Usually they were in the English
language. They were only waste-paper. But in
every hotel, in every restaurant, I saw the familiar
bottles of familiar English sauces. That my country
should purvey to Siberia little else than sauce — I felfc
like smashing the bottles 1
128
CHAPTER XII.
ACROSS THE GREAT LAKE BAIKAL.
What travellers Siberians are ! On the morning I
left Irkutsk for Trans-Baikalia I found the station
crowded with people, as though a plague had stricken
the city, and everybody was making mad haste to
escape. In such a sparse population as Siberia has,
jou might imagine that often the trains would be
comparatively empty. On the contrary, they are
always full, packed with officials, wives, children,
merchants, and chiefly the peasant class.
I had thought that when Irkutsk was reached the
flight eastwards would cease. Not a bit. And the
trains going west, back to Europe, were just as full.
" Where are these peasants making for ? " I asked,
seeing so many one day in a train bound for Moscow.
" Those are the immigrant wasters going back to
their old sordid life in Southern Russia. They came
hero two, three, or more years ago on free tickets,
and got land from the government. But they have
grown homesick ; they declare they can't live in
Siberia, and so they are returning. That is one of the
colonisation problems ; so many poor folks come out
here who know nothing about the agricultural con-
ditions, and so there is hardship and misery."
As in all unsettled lands, there is a great mass of
the discontented in Siberia, people who believe that
a fortune is to be made in every other place than
where they happen to be. And as the travelling is
ACROSS THE GREAT LAKE BAIKAL. 129
ridiculously cheap — about a shilling a hundred miles
third-class — there is a constant human surge up and
down the Trans-Siberian line.
The uproar and confusion of departure is deafening
and bewildering. There is usually only one platform,
and sometimes two or three trains standing parallel.
If your train happens to be the second or third you
must clamber through the carriages of the first and
drop into a sort of passage between two trains, where,
although there will be no starting for another hour,
people are rushing with gesticulatory madness, hunting
up lost relatives, or searching for missing pieces of
baggage.
Every Kussian is an old woman in the matter of
baggage. A kit bag, or a bag of any sort, in which they
can carry all their belongings, they have not. On an
average everyone has eleven pieces of baggage. First
there is a bulging bundle, that can only be tugged
and punched and squeezed through the doorways.
That consists of a couple of piUows, some rugs, and
some sheets. Then there is a sort of satchel, with a
lot of trappings about it, and a swollen neck suggestive
of goitre. There will be three wooden boxes of various
sizes, also paper bundles and hand-bags, always a kettle,
a badly wrapped up loaf of bread, and, if the struggle
is very great, you may find a man rubbing a cooked
fowl across your shoulder.
Everybody takes everything into the carriage with
him, and by necessity everybody is a nuisance to
everybody else. Then the squabbling ! At times
you are certain there will be a free fight.
It is the endeavour of everybody to travel in a
better class than they have paid for. The third-class
i
130 THE REAL 8IBEBIA.
load up the second-class carriages, the second-class
passengers take possession of the first-class carriages,
and when a legitimate first-class passenger comes
along there are terrible rows, and life threatenings in
the clearing of everybody out.
Military officers are entitled to travel in a class
higher than they pay for. But now and then a high-
handed warrior spark will have a third-class ticket
and travel first. There was a Cossack officer who
mounted the train at Irkutsk for the little station of
Baranchiki on Lake Baikal side. When the usual
rumpus commenced, and the officials came along to
straighten matters, he was requested to travel second.
No, he wouldn't ! Why ? It was his pleasure ! But
why not obey the regulations ? Kegulations ! Phew !
It was his pleasure to break them ! Would he make
room ? No, it was his pleasure to travel first. And
travel first he did.
At last away we roUed, once more eastward bent.
For forty miles, until Lake Baikal was reached, the
line hugged the bank of the river Angara, blue, clear,
and rapid, acting as an escape for the mighty inland
lake, and dropping 400 feet between Baikal and " the
Paris of Siberia."
Plains and forests were left behind. The river was
bordered by a beautiful mountainous country, rather
like the Hudson as you see the hills from the cars
on a journey between New York and Albany. The
weather was exquisite, so genial, so bracing, that I
broke into snatches of song.
In early afternoon we rumbled into the lake-side
station of Baranchiki. In the rich glow of late
summer there was the great inland sea to admire.
LAKE BAIKAL IN SUMMER.
RUNNING A TRAIN ON BOARD THE "BAIKAL.'^
A0B0S8 TEE OBEAT LAKE BAIKAL. 131
But there was no time just then to admire scenery.
It ■would not have required much strength of
imagination to think I was at Folkestone. Porters
seized the baggage, and, losing pieces of it, scampered
along the pier, where lay a steamer belching black
smoke. A string of grimy men were pitching coal
from a truck down to the engines, and another steamer
laden with horses was snorting its way seawards.
The pestering thought that the chief thing of
British manufacture I had found in Siberia was sauce,
vanished as I saw the big steamer was the Angara,
built by Armstrong, Whitworth and Co., Newcastle.
Here, at least, England was holding her own !
I looked for the great Baikal that is supposed
to scorn ice packs and does carry three trains across
the lake. But she was not to be seen, though there
was the special jetty which gripped her when trains
were run on board, and a hundred yards away was a
black monster of a floating dock, where she can be
housed when repairs are necessary.
It is certainly an advantage being a stranger in
Kussia. Foreigner spells "good tips" to servants,
and so the cabin steward on the Angara gave
me a good cabin, saw my luggage safe, and handed
me the key.
Lunch ? Certainly ! There was a nice little
buffet on board, and a hobbling old waiter, who had
all the habits of his tribe, though he was four
thousand miles east of the nearest European city,
brought me cutlets and peas and bottled ale.
I saw somebody glance sideways at me through
the window, somebody with a ruddy, clean-shaven
face and a little cloth cap. So I went out.
132 THE REAL 8IBEBIA.
" By the cut of your jib you're a Britisher," I said.
"Yes, Isaac Handy, of Sunderland. Glad to see
you."
Here was an honest-tongued north-countr3niian
who had come here with others to put the Baikal
together after she had been sent out in pieces from
Newcastle. Also he superintended the building of
the Angara on which we now stood ; he was giving
an eye to the building of the floating dock, also
keeping watch on the steamer Ftoroy, specially
built for the rapids on the Angara river. It was his
duty to be about and be useful if anything went
amiss with the engines which the Russians could not
understand. He was one of the modest army of
Britishers one drops across in odd comers of the
world.
We went on the main deck and chatted with the
captain, who had been in the Baltic trade, and spoke
English welL
It was a delicious afternoon, and the forty-six
miles across Lake Baikal were like a holiday cruise.
There were two ladies aboard — of whom more anon —
most industriously snapshotting their feUow pas-
sengers. Other folks had out maps and binoculars,
and down on the lower deck huddled the peasantry
among their bundles, a little afraid, some of them,
for they had never seen so much water before.
The Angara was striking from Baranchiki to
Misovaya, in Trans-Baikalia, where another train
would meet us. Some day the railway Hue wUl be
carried round the southern end of the lake, some two
hundred miles, but the track will have practically
to be blasted out of the face of the sohd rock. The
AOB0S8 THE QBHAT LAKE BAIKAL. 133
line is necessary, for the icebreakers of Armstrong,
Whitworth and Co. cannot always break the Baikal
ice in mid- winter.
There was no suggestion of winter, however, that
balmy September afternoon as I took my ease
lounging about the deck of the Angara, admiring
the picturesque lake scenery and the entourment
of high black mountains.
A wonderful stretch of water is this Lake Baikal.
It is probably the deepest fresh-water sea in the
world. It has been plumbed to a depth of 4,500 feet.
It is 420 miles long, and has a breadth of from ten to
sixty miles. There is plenty of good fish, and about
2,000 seals are killed annually. The timber on the
hillsides is cedar, and in the sheltered valleys grow
apples and cherries, strawberries, raspberries, and
whortleberries.
As the vessel slowly churned her way across, Mr.
Handy told me about the lake. He pointed out a
huge boulder lying in the mouth of the Angara
which the natives regard with awe, because they
believe that were it removed all the water would run
out of the Baikal. Certainly the water tears into
the river at a terrific speed. This is not to be won-
dered at, as the Baikal is nearly 1,600 feet above
sea level.
Presently there came steaming down the lake
a huge four-funneUed vessel, white painted, by no
means pretty, and rather like a barn that had slipped
afloat. That was the Baikal, one of the most
wonderful vessels in the world, coming back from
Misovaya, and carrying two goods trains fully laden.
If necessary she could carry three trains and eight
134 TEE REAL SIBEBIA.
hundred passengers, but at present the Baikal
is used for merchandise and the Angara for
passengers.
The Baikal passed sufficiently near for me to
appreciate her great size, and as the fore gates were
open I caught a gUmpse of red-painted goods
waggons. The ship is of over 4,000 tons, close on 300
feet long, and has nearly 60 feet beam. She has three
triple expansion engines of 1,260 horse-power, two
amidships and one in the bow. This power is
required in the ice-breaking. She will break through
ice 36 inches thick, and her bow is made with a
curve, so that when the ice is thicker she can be
backed and then go full steam at the ice, partly
climb on it with her impetus, and then crush it with
her weight. This means that the Baikal some-
times takes a week to cross the lake.
The Baikal is sometimes frozen from December
tiU April. But although the ice puts a hindrance in
the way of ships, the lake is busier than in the
summer. I have before mentioned that winter is the
great time for cheap transit in Siberia, because sledge
travelling is easy and quick. So a road is made
across the lake ; the track is marked by pine trees
stuck in the ice ; a man holds a contract for keeping
the way in repair for the post, and if there is a nasty
crack he must board it until it heals by freezing;
and all day long there is a constant procession of
sledges coming from Trans-Baikalia, Mongoha, and
Manchuria, and making for Irkutsk.
When the sun in ruddy haze had dropped behind
the mountains, a clumsy breeze came scudding across
the waters. So we went below to drink tea. Mr.
THE "ANGARA " IN WINTER.
THE "ANGARA" ON LAKE BAIKAL.
A0B0S8 TEE GREAT LAKE BAIKAL. 135
Handy brought out a collection of photographs, his
own work, and while we talked about the super-
stitions of the people in this little-kno\yn corner of
Asia, I was turning over snapshot views of Lambton
Castle and Redcar and keels on the Humber.
Up on deck again we found billows of cloud
tumbling from the mountains, racing over the dark
waters of the lake, shrouding the world, so that we
steamed through smoking mist, till a wailing wind
crept down from the north-west and drove back the
clouds, and fiUed the rigging of the ship with
Valkyrie cries. Then in the darkness I heard tales of
the furious storms that often ribbon the lake into
tattered foam.
They say hereabouts that it is only on the Baikal in
the autumn that a man learns to pray from his heart.
Twinkling red and green lights appeared on the
right, and soon we were splashing alongside a httle
jetty flooded with electric light and a long train
waiting.
So I found myself in Trans-Baikalia, the far
eastern part of Siberia. But the train didn't go on
for four hours. However, I sought my carriage and
made my bed, and smoked my pipe, and read my
novel tiU drowsiness came.
And when I awoke it was broad daylight, and
at a long, heavy, plodding pace, the train was rolling
through a stretch of wild Scotland. That is what it
looked like. There were the bleak hiUs and the
clouds clinging to them, the sullen crags, and the
fierce rivulets ; then great hollows with sedge-bordered
lochs. Mist floated to mist, and hills waved to hills,
and a cold gauntness was on the land.
136 THE EEAL SIBERIA.
I rubbed up acquaintance with my neigbbour, a
stout Teutonic-looking Russian from Nicolaievsk, at
the mouth of the Amur. He spoke English about
as weU as I spoke Russian, but also stuttered. It
took him twenty minutes to wish me good morning.
A mutual desire to snapshot some of the Baikal
tribesmen brought the two ladies whom I had noticed
on the boat and myself together. One was a Russian
lady who spoke French, and the other was a French
lady who spoke EngHsh and Russian. They were
Moscow residents, and were taking a little round trip
across Siberia, then intending to visit Japan, China,
India, Egypt, Turkey, and get back to Russia at
Odessa by Christmas. They were proud of their
adventurous voyage, and enjoyed the curiosity of the
other passengers as to what they were doing.
The Russian doesn't understand the occupation of
"sight-seeing." He can understand being sent to
Siberia, or going to Siberia to earn money, but to visit
it just to look at it suggests to him you must be a
bit of a fool. At last, on the second evening, the
ladies told me all the train knew why they had come
to Siberia. Neither was in the first flush of youth,
and as there were ninety-three men to every seven
women in Siberia their object was to find husbands !
They were intensely amused.
The distance from Misovaya to Streitinsk is 605
miles, and it took the train three days to cover the
distance. The line had just been opened, and as the
metals were just spiked to the sleepers, and the
sleepers just laid on a hght bank of soil, speed was out
of the question.
Everything indicated haste, There were no plat-
AOBOSS THE QBEAT LAKE BAIKAL. 137
forms at tHe station-houses, and the station-houses
were all in course of erection. Whenever possible, the
line kept to the bank of a river, and where there was
no river, but only mountains, it took great horse-shoe
curves to avoid cuttings and tunnels.
We climbed right over the Yabloni Mountains, one
engine snorting in front and another pufiSng and
pushing behind, until we got to an altitude of 3,412
feet. Then, with long sweeps, we swung down to the
edge of the Ingoda river. After that, for 300 mQes,
the line never left the side of the Ingoda or Shilka
rivers.
Once — only once from Moscow to Streitinsk — we
ran through a bit of a tunnel, not a hundred yards
long. For half a minute the train was plunged in
darkness. There was shrieking of women and bawling
of children, and when we got into daylight the men
looked scared. Tunnels were things they knew
nothing about. When some of them saw I was
laughing at their fright, reassurance gradually came
back.
For hours we would roll between mountains, skirt-
ing the edges of great swampy basins. At long
intervals I would see a rugged patch on a plain far off,
and knew it was a vUlage.
We saw clusters of tents exactly like Red Indian
tents. They belonged to the aborigines, Buriat
Mongols, who are vanishing before the Muscovites as
the Redskins are vanishing before the Saxons.
When the train halted I had a good opportunity of
seeing these people. They are first cousins to the
Chinese, but all I met struck me as being broader,
more sturdily built than the Chinese. Their faces are
138 TEE REAL SIBERIA.
round rather than long, but their cheekbones are
prominent. The eye is a ■warm, good-natured brown.
Their skins are not the Chinese sickly sallow, but a
ruddy bronze. They are good-looking men, but had
I met them in Nevada it would never have struck
me they were not Red Indians.
The women folk, however, would have put me
right. "Without being accused of lack of gallantry,
one may say that the Indian squaw is one of the last
ladies on earth for whom it would be possible to
rouse admiration — coarse, fat to unwieldiness, and
with as much expression as a potato.
But these Buriat women were often handsome
with the kind of good looks you sometimes see among
Spanish Jewesses, only much darker. The features
were well cut, the nose refined, and the eyes black and
brilliant. Their hair was really black. As they
walked about in their gay, red print frocks — and no
other colour would suit them so well — they had a
long, easy swing of the limbs that showed good
physique. The elder women get wrinkle-faced and
rather uncertain in their gait. Yet distinction remains
with them.
About both men and women there was a shyness
which was blushingly apparent when I wanted to take
their photographs. They didn't quite understand the
camera. But when it was explained they were pleased,
and laughed, and hung back, and after many per-
suasions from the onlooking crowd — what a medley
we sometimes were, Russians, Chinese, English,
French, German, in all sorts of costumes — they would
stand forward with the awkward delight of a yokel
who is getting his five shillings from the squire's lady
(VIY LADY ACQUAINTANCES BUY FRUIT.
A COUPLE OF BURIATS.
A0B088 THE GREAT LAKE BAIKAL. 139
for showing the best cabbages at the village flower
show.
I found the Russians had a kindly admiration for
the Buriats, extolling them for their simplicity and
honesty. These Buriats, though they live in tents, are
not really nomads, but keep to one particular district.
Although the children of Mongols, once the terror of
the world, there is nothing of the warrior about them,
except their splendid horsemanship. High banked
and uncomfortable do their saddles look, but they
manage their horses, which are light brown with black
manes and very swift, with wonderful agility. They
know well how their ancestors once swept Europe, and
they have a firm belief that some day a leader will
arise and regaLu their lost kingdom.
To me there is something very pathetic in this
confidence among races once powerful, but now
subjected, that the day will come when they will
re-inherit their own. Perhaps it is well they
should have this little glow of patriotism in their
hearts.
To-day the Buriats are pastoral. They live chiefly
on milk, millet, and sheep killed on feast days.
Their wealth consists in immense herds of cattle;
some of them even possess forty or fifty thousand
head. Though sons and daughters marry, the new
wives and new husbands must come and live in the
family camp.
In religion they are Buddhists, but have only
been so for three centuries. They are fond of making
pilgrimages to Urga, where there is a "living
Buddha." So great is this devotion that a Buriat
will frequently surrender the whole of his property
140 THE BBAL SIBERIA.
to some shrine on condition that he receives just
enough to hve upon.
So, among this wild, Scotch-like land we took our
slow way, the shriek of the engine making long,
eerie echoes among the hills.
Then we got to Chita, a big place that got its
name from a band of Italians who came here gold-
hunting long ago. Just as usual, the station was
two miles from the town, though the line, in
American style, runs through what is practically the
main street. First the train stopped at Chita station
in the late afternoon, and gave us half an hour to go
into the buffet and swallow dinner.
I saw the town ahead, and asked the usual
question, " Why isn't the station in the town ? " A
shrug of the shoulders was the reply.
The train puffed along, and stopped in the very
centre of Chita. Here was a shed with " Chita
Town " painted on it, and twenty yards behind was a
big station in course of erection.
"But why wasn't this made the station when the
line was put down eighteen months ago ? " Another
shrug of the shoulders.
The train halted for an hour at Chita, and as this
was in the evening, at the time the Russian has his
promenade, all the town came down to peer at the
passengers.
It was a bright and merry sight, just as un-
Asiatic as you can imagine. There were plenty of
slouching, unwashed Chinese coolies and moujiks in
rough sheepskin coats and hats. But they were
alien to the town, and kept well away from the
other folk.
A0B0S8 TSE GREAT LAZE BAIKAL. 141
The other folk were well-dressed Russians, mostly
wearing the conventional peaked cap, but still there
were plenty of hard felts to be seen — even one silk
hat and a frock coat — and tan shoes and tan gloves.
Some of the women retained the old Siberian
habit of just a shawl thrown over the head, but most
had feathered hats and light jackets.
Groups of young fellows stood about smoking
cigarettes, and casting glances at the young ladies
who walked up and down, arm-in-arm, three in a
row. There wasn't much taste or good fitting in the
ladies' garments. It was apparent all this finery was
a thing of less than a year. But everybody was
happy, and the air was full of light chatter.
Again and again I marvelled at the way Russia
was throwing its cities far east, bringing to the
people all the trappings of civilisation. I had to
look long and continuously at the map to understand
I was to the north of Mongolia, and almost as far
east as Pekin.
142
CHAPTER XIII.
THE CALIFORNIA OF SIBERIA.
Just as Siberia, west of Lake Baikal, has everything
to make it a grain-growing region, east of Baikal, as
far as I could gather, it has everything to make it
another California, or another Klondyke, or another
South Africa, or whatever you call a stretch of
country full of mineral wealth.
Most of the mines belong to the Czar, and there
is much secrecy about their output. But every
American or English miner I came across, and who
had seen how the Siberian gold is worked, smiled
broadly at the primitive methods. Maybe he would
produce an ounce-weight nugget that had been lost
in the washing, and then suddenly grow serious,
and say, "I've been to California and Klondyke
and South Africa, but — well, may I have some claims
when proper machinery can be set to work ! "
All the men I talked to agreed that the Russian
is something of a "fuddler" in mining. He lacks
scientific training. If he sees the gold he can get
it, but he doesn't know a gold district when he is
in it.
About £5,000,000 worth of gold has been officially
sent out of Siberia into Russia every year, but this
is probably not half the produce, for gold-stealing is
rampant. In Western Siberia there are over eleven
thousand gold miners employed, and in Eastern
Siberia only some thirty thousand, though the pro-
THE ■' BAIKAL " IN THE ICE.
THE "BAIKAL" BREAKING THE ICE.
THE OALIFOBNIA OF SIBERIA. 143
duction is nine or ten times as great. In Eastern
Siberia the men are well paid, getting 3s. 4d. a day,
■which is a high "wage for Siberia. The Western
miners, in the neighbourhood of Senipalatinsk, for
instance, only get fivepence a day.
The men work hard from three in the morning
till seven at night, recognising neither Sunday nor
feast day except that of the patron saint of the mine.
This continuous work is insisted on by the
government because the men have far more money
than they ever earn — obtained, of course, by selling
stolen gold to some slit-eyed Chinese, who ostensibly
purveys tea — and their free days are given up to
riotous debauchery, sometimes ending in bloodshed.
Money is thrown about in the usual mining camp
fashion. The recklessness among the miners is now
being stopped by a government official holding as
deposit the amount earned by the men, and only
handing it over to them when they go home foi
the winter.
The Russian mine-owners are all enormously
wealthy. They make for Irkutsk in the winter, and
the man who has the wildest orgies and squanders
the most money is regarded as the best fellow.
The government, anxious to develop the gold-
mining industry — for Eussia is in need of money —
has temporarily remitted all duty on gold-mining
machinery sent into the country.
All over Siberia, therefore, is the intruding
Kayoshnik, gold-hunter — English, French, or Ameri-
can engineers sent out usually by a syndicate to
inspect places where gold is said to exist.
A Siberian prospecting party consists of a leader,
Ui THE REAL SIBERIA.
an overseer, eight workmen, ten horses, eighteen
saddle bags, provisions and tools, ' the outlay being
about £500. When a likely valley is found, the gold-
hunter seeks in the river-bed for pyrites, iron, slate,
clay, or quartz coated with crystals. If the verdict
on these is favourable trees are felled and a hut
built.
The thickness ot the earth covering the gold
varies from two to twenty feet, and in regard to this
I should point out that owing to the almost con-
tinuously frozen state of the soil and the dense
forests, the gold deposits are protected against the
denuding action of the water. If the tests yield
I oz. of gold to IJ tons of earth, the result is good.
If there is less than an eighth of an ounce it is poor.
Sometimes as much as half a pound weight of gold
is found in a ton and a half of earth.
If it is found worth while to mine, two posts are
stuck up, one at each end of the ground, and the
place is registered by the Commissioner of Police,
or under an authority from the Director of Mines.
A government surveyor next inspects the ground
and prepares a map. After that the finder can
borrow money on the security of his mine at the
rate of from 20 to 30 per cent.
A claim is usually about three miles long. The
breadth is determined by the distance between the
two mountains in which the gold seam lies, but it is
generally from 500 to 1,000 feet. No one is per-
mitted to hold claims of more than three consecutive
miles, but if you want to hold more the claims can
be entered in the names of your wife, partner, or'
friends. When a mine is once registered it must be
KHABAROVSK.
BARTERING ON THE RIVER SIDE.
THE CALIFORNIA OF SIBERIA. 145
worked. If the finder has not the means, he may sell
his claim or transfer it. But if it is not worked it is
forfeited to the Crown.
All gold pays a tax to the government of from
5 to 10 per cent, on the yield, according to the
district. On land belonging to the Czar, or on what
are known as State lands, there is an additional
royalty of some eight or ten shillings an acre.
What for many years hindered mining was that
aU gold won had to be sent to the government
smelting-houses, either in Irkutsk or Tomsk. The
gold having been smelted and assayed, was despatched
to the St. Petersburg mint. The miner had to wait
till it arrived there before receiving bills on which he
could locally draw coin or gold ingots. This was an
evil system. It tempted the merchant to circumvent
the government and also, when short of money and
unable to wait, obliged him to have his government
acknowledgments discounted locally at a very high
interest. All this, however, has recently been
abolished. The gold is assayed on the spot, and
after pajdng the tax, either in coin or in metal, the
miner can proceed to seU.
The system known as place-mining is the usual
method adopted. But that is giving way to heavy
machinery now there is the Trans-Siberian Railway.
Quite recently a whole trainload of American mining
machinery for one firm was run through from Riga
to Irkutsk in twenty-one days.
We halted for a while at Nertchinsk, amid
charming scenery, which has led at least one traveller
to dub it "the Switzerland of Siberia." It is here
there are silver mines, though not, as far as I could
E
X46 TSE BEAL SIBERIA.
gather, very profitable ones. They are mines that
have been worked since the opening of the seven-
teenth century. There have been some ninety mines,
but at present nothing like that number are working.
It seems that owing to the superior attractions of
gold mining, voluntary labour is extremely difficult
to get.
This explains the employment of convict labour.
Indeed, the Nertchinsk mines are the only mines
where there is convict labour. There are two convict
villages, Gorni-Zeruntui reserved for criminals, and
Akatui reserved for political offenders.
In the silver-mining district, two hundred miles
long by about a hundred miles wide, there are seven
prisons, and in the dozen government mines between
three and four thousand convicts are engaged
There are women prisoners, and though they have
to work, none of them are sent underground.
Those who are regarded as the worst of political
offenders — men, for instance, who want to argue for
poHtical freedom with bombshells — and condemned
to penal servitude, are kept at AkatuL I did not go
there, for it lies 140 miles from Nertchinsk. Still,
the opportunity was offered me. Those, however,
who have visited it, told me it is the dreariest of all
Siberian prisons. Sentries are everywhere, and no
man has ever escaped. The rules are severe. The
place is 3,000 feet above sea level, and its winter lasts
long — from August until May — whilst the short
summer is intensely hot, the thermometer registering
95 degrees in the shade, though at a depth of two
feet the soil is frozen.
I made particular inquiries, but could hear nothing
THE OALTFORNIA OF SIBERIA. 147
about any cruelties practised in the convict mines of
Nertchinsk, such as keeping exiles in mines day and
night, working them in a dying condition or in
chains, or of making them sleep chained to wheel-
barrows.
Though they are expiating their Anarchist
opinions by a punishment that must be fearful, it
cannot be said they are otherwise than humanely
treated. For instance, if a man gets recognition for
good conduct, he becomes a " free command." That
is, though he must wear the convict dress, he is only
under police supervision, and is at liberty to make
what money he can by any art or trade. A "free
command" may marry, and if he has any private
money he can receive it. Also his friends are at
liberty to visit him.
Mining cannot be followed aU the year round, and
so the prisoners work at other trades. The difficulty,
so I was informed in various quarters, is not over-
much work, but how to find enough for all the exiles,
who often hang about listlessly the whole day. The
summer hours are from six to noon, and from two to
seven ; the winter hours from seven to four ; there is
no work on Sundays or saints' days, and eight
months' labour is reckoned a year's work. There are
plenty of books in the prison. Any books are allowed
so long as they are not socialistic.
Eound about Akatui are local committees, which
specially look after prisoners' children, the wives, and
the sick. There is a discharged prisoners' aid fund,
which does much the same work as the Samaritan
Prison Society in England. At Gorni-Zeruntui is
a large orphanage built by private subscriptions
148 THE REAL SIBERIA.
collected by Madame Narishkine, a lady-in-waiting to
the Dowager Empress. Most of the children are not
orphans at all, but the ofifspring of incompetent or
incarcerated parents.
So through this district of convict mines and
prisons, and picturesque mountain land, the train
went rolling on at about eight miles an hour. On
the hUls were clumps of spruce and ash and white
birch. Next came stretches of round-shouldered,
treeless hills, such as you see from the railway
carriage between Leeds and CarUsle. Then, when the
line climg all day long to the northern bank of the
Ingoda, there was swelling upland exceedingly pretty.
I was now travelling in the first breath of autumn.
Old Siberians told me that as long as they could
remember there had never been such a spell of fine
weather. So I was fortunate. AU the trees were
beginning to be tinged with the rich hues of the
fading year, and on the banks were masses of brUUant
wild flowers, flaunting red, and pale puce, and strong
yellow, and gentle blue.
Each evening I spent a delicious hour standing on
the gangway. The rattle-rattle, clang-clang of the
cars over the metals I didn't hear. I only saw the
day dying in exquisite sunset, and the rippled
reflections in the rivers. Then sumptuous dusk fell
on the land. When the train stopped the silence was
like a palL
A light moved mysteriously along the Hne. The
murmur of the trees was heard, and away China-
wards a shooting star streaked across the blackness.
The awe of night hung heavUy. Far off there was
the sound of a horn. The engine roared loudly, and
TEE OALIFOBNIA OF SIBERIA. 149
the roar went reverberating from hill to hill, so you
were not conscious when it actually ceased. There
was a creaking of the brakes, and once more we were
on the move.
When we reached the river Shilka, born in the
hills of Mongolia, there were often clearings to be
seen with little homesteads on the water-side. Now
and then was a village, and youths were sitting on
tree-trunks fishing. The boats were just " dug-outs,"
long, narrow, and easily capsisable, and propelled with
a paddle. We passed rafts on which little huts were
built, and there were women-folk making the midday
meal.
Always were there the lone section huts on the
line, and inifailingly the man and woman with the
green-flag signal. The bare-footed children — and
generally plenty of them — ran out and shouted
gleefully.
Gradually the Shilka widened until it was a broad,
noble stream. We overtook a light draught steamer
with a stern paddle. That indicated we were near
Streitinsk, and practically the end of the great Trans-
Siberian Eailway. From there onward there would
be 1,428 miles to journey by boat on the Shilka and
Amur till Khabarovsk was reached. Then the rail-
way would be met again, and 253 more miles in the
cars would land me at Vladivostok, " the gate of the
East."
The Russians kept telling me that very soon the
whole line by the river-side would be completed.
That I doubt. Indeed, I doubt whether Russia ever
intended to lay the line along this route. Glance
at a map, and you will see it would have to make a
150 TEE REAL SIBERIA.
great journey half round Manchuria, which is divided
by the Amur from admitted Russian territory. But
Russia is in Manchuria ostensibly to keep the peace.
I believe Russia wiU evacuate it about the same time
England proposes to evacuate Egypt.
To the east of Chita I saw a Httle line branch
south. That line strikes straight across Manchuria
to Nikolsk, sixty miles north of Vladivostok.
The Manchurian Une will enormously save the
distance between Irkutsk and Vladivostok, and do
away with the dread which haunts all travellers on
the Shilka and Amur of the water running low, and
the boat being left stuck on a mud bank for a month.
We Britishers think it is a high-handed proceeding
for Russia to plant this line across Manchuria, Chinese
territory, with hardly as much as " by your leave."
But there it is.
Of course, it was only to be expected that
Streitinsk station should be on the opposite side of
the river to Streitinsk itself
It was pitch dark when the big funnel-chimneyed
engine gave its last snort, and the porters began to
drag our luggage out. There was noisy vituperative
haggling before getting a wheezy dray to carry one's
belongings. The carts kept smashing into one
another on the crooked, jolting httle path down to
the water edge.
On the other side of the river blinked odd lamps
along the town front for nearly two miles. But we
had to stand in the slush tiU the ferry came. Then
all the carts tried to get on at once, and boxes
tumbled into the water, and the police fought back
the drivers, and the passengers fought each other.
ON THE RIVER FRONT AT STREITINSK.
STREITINSK.
THE CALIFORNIA OF SIBEBIA. 161
Only about a third of us did get the ferry, which
swung from an anchor in mid-stream. Horses got
restless and backed, and were sworn at, and altogether
the fifteen minutes' journey across the Shilka was not
without its perils.
The baggage belonging to my two Kussian and
French acquaintances, together with my own, was
lost. So we had to roam among the carts trying to
find it. It was decided the Eussian lady should jump
into the droshki, hasten off to the good hotel in
Streitinsk, and secure rooms before others got there,
while the other two of us ferreted for the lost property.
I found it, but the driver was a fool — at least I
thought him so at the time for not understanding my
Eussian. He cried " Nitchevo ! " and with a clatter
disappeared into the darkness. He wasn't such a fool
after all, for he made for the hotel — the only decent,
clean, respectable hotel in the town.
Streitinsk that night looked like a few old barns
stuck anyhow on a humpy wilderness of dust. It
was a melancholy-stricken hole.
I asked my French lady if it didn't remind her of
the Grand Boulevard in her beloved Paris ? She
shuddered.
The hotel was a big darksome place. There was a
Slavonic concert in one of the rooms — quite a barn,
but tricked out in blue and gold and red, and beneath
swinging, smelling oil lamps sat the dite of Streitinsk,
the military and the merchants, and their wives and
children.
"We didn't intend to, but we disturbed that concert.
The bedrooms, little boxes of places with large
cracks in the walls, the doors without handles or keys.
152 TEE REAL SIBERIA.
and having to be fastened with a padlock run through
staples, abutted on a gallery in the concert-room.
The landlord, a thin man with short grey hair on end,
didn't seem to care a rap for the concert. Here were
three distinguished people who had come to his hotel,
and they were his consideration! We told him we
would wait.
Wait ! He wouldn't think of it. Up the creaky
wooden steps did his men struggle with owe baggage,
and the two ladies had as many boxes as ladies
usually have. These were dumped in the gallery.
Would we inspect the rooms ? They were poor places,
but we selected two. The baggage was distributed
anyhow. It had to be sorted.
I found my room was bigger and better than that
of the ladies. Would they care to change? They
were dehghted.
Then the baggage had to be re-transferred. Next
it was necessary an extra iron bedstead should be
carried into the ladies' room. The sheer cussedness
of things insisted that the bed should shed its stays all
up the stairs, and then double and tumble to pieces
when the gallery was reached.
The three of us sat down and laughed till the tears
came. There was nothing else to do. Had the
audience risen and slain us they would have been
justified. They, however, looked on, but with the eyes
of those accustomed to little things hke that. They
didn't object in the least.
But all was fairly well in the end. The ladies
decided to take their evening meal in privacy in their
room. I hunted out the restaurant, and had my
supper among a crowd of Russian officers who had
TEE OALIFOBNIA OF SIBERIA 153
come along from Streitinsk barracks to tlie concert.
They ■were nice, rather noisy fellows. We became
quite merry, and toasted eternal friendship between
England and Russia.
But the recollection of that iron bedstead shedding
bits of itself, and finally collapsing in the concert-room,
■will make me laugh on my death-bed.
164
CHAPTER XIV.
DOWN THE SHILKA AND AMUE RIVERS.
So it was at Streitinsk, exactly 4,055 miles east of
Moscow, that I bade good-bye to the twin thread
of steel, winding over hill and plain, called the Great
Trans-Siberian Railway.
All along I had inquired whether at Streitinsk
I would find a steamer to carry me down to the
Amur that fringes Manchuria. Ignorance was every-
where. There were steamers, but whether they ran
once a day or once a month — a shrug of the
shoulders !
Job's comforters pointed out there had been
comparatively little rain for weeks, and the Shilka
would be nothing more than a sandy gully.
When I got into Trans-Baikalia I was certain
there must be a post connection, and imagined the
railway oflScials could tell me.
No! They knew nothing. Also they were in-
different.
Fancy the station-master at King's Cross not
knowing how long was the journey from London to
Edinburgh ! Yet at Irkutsk the chief of the railway
could not say to a day how long it took the train
to reach Streitinsk. Maybe three days; possibly
four ; he didn't think it could be more than five.
"Letters for Vladivostok, China, and Japan are
going by my train ; how are they taken on from
Streitinsk ? " I inquired.
^"^r^r:
^Tr^tfjfit.
DOWiM THE AMUR RIVER.
ON THE BANKS OF THE AMUR
DOWN TEE 8EILKA AND AMUR BIVEB8. 155
"By water, I suppose, but don't know; I have
never been there."
It was not till I reached Streitinsk itself that
I learnt a post-boat went down stream once every
five days. As luck would have it, a boat had gone
the day before. So I had four days to wait in this
dreary, bedraggled little town that stands like an
ugly grey wart on a beautiful hillside.
Let me try to describe Streitinsk.
Along the banks of the Shilka stretch a higgledy-
piggledy lot of shanties all unpainted, all with httle
dirty windows, and all with a yard that is more than
ankle deep in cattle filth. There is usually a rude
fence, but broken. The cows, poor thin brutes, and
the pigs, ridge-backed, flabby, and bristled, wander
anywhere.
On the roadway, which happened, because the
weather is fine, to be a six-inch layer of dust instead
of a foot-deep mass of slush, which it would become
if it rained, come scampering a herd of Siberian
ponies. You get to one side and shut your eyes
while they skelter by. You hear strange yells.
Slightly raising your eyeUds you see, as in a fog,
tawny jowled Tartars with huge sheepskin hats
about their ears, the wool inside, and with great
sheepskin coats, the wool also inside, riding sorry
nags and whipping up the straggling ponies with
long biting thongs.
At one spot, behind the string of shanties, is a
square. There are big, blue-painted signboards with
names on them, and now and then a board on which
is painted, badly, a fur coat, or a plough, or a kettle,
or a cabbage, or a lump of meat, and inside you know
156 THE REAL SIBERIA.
you will find clothing or agricultural implements or
food.
The place seems deserted. But every now and
then your attention is caught by a lady hurrying
along in all the finery of Europe. Round the corner
spins a Cossack officer, in a white linen jacket, but
distinguishable by the yellow band round his cap, and
the broad yellow stripe down' his trousers, actually
riding a bicycle !
Over the place, indeed, hangs a filthy Eastern
slothfulness, rent every now and then with evidence
of Western ideas. The shops, so dingy from outside,
surprise you when once inside. They are big, full of
commodities, generally have plenty of attendants, and
not infrequently many purchasers, chiefly, judging by
their dress, from the far interior. These shops in so
wretched a place amaze you tiU you remember that
Streitinsk, like all other towns in Russia with
railways and water communication, is the centre of
trade for many hundreds of miles round.
A smile comes to your lips as you notice how the
reckoning is done — with one of those little appliances
of coloured beads on wires, with which the infant
mind at home is beguiled into the first principles of
arithmetic, by learning that two blue and two yellow
beads count four. The Russian cannot count without
the instrument. Mental arithmetic is beyond him.
You buy something for sixty kopecks, and present
a rouble in payment. He must clatter his beads
backwards and forwards before discovering that the
change is forty kopecks !
Siberia is truly the land of distances.
I met a man on the train who told me he had
DOWN TEE 8HILKA AND AMUR BIYEB8. 157 '
found much advantage since the railway ran near his
home. He Hved fifty miles from the nearest station.
With always immense distances to cover, the
Siberian has not yet realised the advantages of any-
thing being near. I have aheady given one reason why
the stations on the Trans-Siberian Kailway are so far
from the towns — the insufficiency of the bribes to the
engineers to place them nearer — ^but another reason
is that the Siberian doesn't appreciate the use of a
station being only two miles off and not ten. To go
ten miles takes longer time than to go two. But what
is time ? Nothing ! The Eastern trait in his nature
makes biTn heedless of time. The Britisher who
wants something done now and not next week he
regards as a foolish person, who gives himself a lot of
trouble.
The post office at Streitinsk might be in the main
square, approximately in the middle of the town.
It isn't. It is two miles away up the river bank.
Each day in Streitinsk I had a walk through the
place. I confess its sordidness weighed heavily. One
was indeed right out of the world. There were no
newspapers. No news ever came there.
I did not possess sufficient courage to fight against
the inertia of the place. There was just the petty
community, the trading, the tea-drinldng, the eating,
the sleeping all the year round — and nothing more.
Every Russian town is the same. So when you see
how each place must be a world to itself the surprise
after all is not that the Russians have so little energy,
but, indeed, that they have any.
A striking change, however, came over Streitinsk
at night — at least, over my corner of it, " the best
158 TEE REAL SIBERIA.
hotel" In the daytime it was just a barn with some
gewgaws on the walls and imitation plants on the
table to make a dining-room. So dilatory was every-
body that if I could get a modest ' lunch of two
courses in two hours I was fortunate.
But about ten o'clock, when you would conceive
such a drowsy, out-of-the-world place should be all
abed, ", the best hotel in Streitinsk" burst into
rolhcking uproar. The officers from barracks, the
official engineers — those who have gilt buttons and
green braid — the river officials, the post office and
telegraph officials, officials of this, that, and the other,
all in the uniform of their posts, tramped into the
hotel, ordered meals, drank many glasses of vodki and
many bottles of beer, and grew uproariously merry
before the food was ready. There was a wheezy
piano, and in front of it a brass-fingered instrument,
which on the turning of a handle ripped tunes out of
the old piano. Then came card-playing and more
eating, and continued hand-turning by a boy. And
this in a shed of an hotel with no handles on the
doors, where your clothes-hook was a nail, and the gaps
in the woodwork so open that you could easily see your
neighbour going to bed. It was always four in the
morning before quiet came.
I went to the boat office to book a berth on the
post-packet. It was closed. The next day I went.
It was open, but nobody inside. I waited one hour.
At last in came a heavily whiskered man. Could I
engage a place on the post-boat ? He didn't know
because he had not anything to do with it. But the
manager would come in an hour or two if I would
wait. I didn't wait, but went back in two hours.
DOWN THE 8HILKA AND AMUR BIVER8. 159
Yes, there would be a boat the day after to-morrow,
but he hadn't the tickets with him, and if I came to-
morrow he would have them. On the morrow I went
still again. Well, the boat was not in yet, but if it
did come in, and aU was well, it would leave on the
following day. So I paid my thirty roubles (about
£3), and secured a place to Blagovestchensk.
Having made up my mind there would be no
boat, I was agreeably surprised to find on Monday
morning, September 16th, the Admiral Tschcfiachoff
had come in and would go out again in four hours.
It was a long, shallow-draught, paddle steamer.
Every place was taken, and first and second
passengers, chiefly officials, jostled one another in
the passages. Third-class passengers, who had to be
content with the deck, were left on the wharf till a
signal was given — a crowd of coarse beings in all
kinds of nondescript garb, Russians, Tartars, Chinese,
bundles of clothes, with wizened and grim old
features peering out : a tatterdemalion throng !
Presently came the post-bags, great leather sacks
of whole cowhides fastened with heavy steel chains
and locked. Half a dozen coolies staggered under
each sack and pitched it into a hole on the main
deck. All the bags having been put in, the hold
was supposed to be fastened with a cord, and the
cord sealed to a tablet. There were the marks of
old sealing-wax on the tablet, but no sealing-wax
was used during this voyage. But Nitchevo — " What
did it matter ? " as the Russians say.
When the siren shrieked for the deck passengers
to come aboard, there was a scamper. Everybody
was carrying bedding, bundles of clothing, chunks of
160 TEE REAL SIBERIA.
bread, a jangling kettle, and often a big flapping-
tailed dried fish which would slap the face of the
next person.
The whole pack tried to get down the narrow
gangway at once. The purser insisted on seeing
tickets, but these were often stored away in the
middle of a bundle for safety sake. It was a quaint
scene.
Now and then an excited Chinaman would
declare his friend had gone ahead with both tickets,
try to force a passage and then be hauled back
by the pigtail.
When we were at last off, I noticed we had in
our wake a barge, a low-built thing with a sort of
iron barred cage running the entire deck. It was a
convict ship, in which prisoners for the dreary island
of Saghahen on the east coast were taken down the
Amur. There were no prisoners on board, but the
merchant company owning the Admiral Tschchachoff
had a contract to haul the barge. So, occupied or
unoccupied, up and down the Amur and Shilka was
it continually tugged.
We first-class passengers were a nice crowd.
There was a general and his wife, who would not eat
in the saloon, but "messed" in their own cabin.
The wife was a stout, fussy little dame who knew
her position and put on airs, greatly to the amuse-
ment of my French and Russian lady acquaintances.
We each paid two and a half roubles a day for
our food, which consisted of tea and bread and butter
in the morning, a greasy meal at midday, tea and
stale buns in the afternoon, and at seven a hot dish:
of sorts and more tea.
DOWN THE 8SILKA AND AMUR BIV£!BS. 161
All the saloon passengers, save our general and
his wife, fed together. The table was covered with
oilcloth, rather ragged. At the midday meal there
was brought a huge platter, on which was generally
a hash of meat and onions, undercooked peas and
macaroni, and oU-smeared potatoes. Everybody
helped him or herself with his or her own knife and
fork. There were no salt-spoons, but a knife, greasy
with meat fat, carried quite a lot of salt if stuck in
the salt-cellar. If you wanted a second helping, you
dived into the big plate with your knife and fork
and fished out what you fancied.
There Avas none of the inconvenience of your
serviette ring going astray, such as you usually have
on English boats. There were no rings, but just
sufficient serviettes to go round, and these were
thrown in a bundle on the middle of the table. If
you had made a mess by cleaning your fork at mid-
day, you let somebody else have that serviette in the
evening. And the somebody else didn't mind.
The oilcloth got rather sticky at times because
there were never any plates to put your bread and
butter on, and only one knife for the whole company
to butter their bread. When your neighbour talked
to you he did so with his forearms spreading along
the table, and his knife and fork pointing to the sky-
light. When you required bread it was not expected
at all of you to take the first piece. You took up
four or five pieces and helped yourself to the one
you liked, and threw the rest back anyhow for the
next person to mauL Then between the meals and
the bringing of tea — you have tea with every meal
in Siberia— everybody brought out a little wooden
L
162 THE REAL SIBERIA.
toothpick and picked and sucked their teeth for ten
minutes. I've an idea some fastidious Britishers
would think this rather disgusting.
But the crowd was very select and very official.
That must not he forgotten. The most distinguished
man at tahle was the colonel of a Tartar regiment — a
drah-faced man with black, cropped whiskers and
spectacles of black glass (for his eyes were weak) — who
was on his way to Manchuria to civilise the heathen
Chinese. He ate with his fingers and salivated after
the manner of a Mexican cow-puncher.
Next to him was a lady proceeding to join her
husband, a military man at Vladivostok. She smoked
cigarettes incessantly, especially between the courses
at meal-time. She threw the httle cardboard cigarette
stems about indiscriminately.
There was a fur merchant and his wife. He was
a big man with rugged eyebrows, and a beard iron-
streaked. He was most agreeable. The one word of
English he knew was "porter," and after two days'
acquaintance he said I was not like the other
Britishers he had met, because I didn't get angry
because there was no "porter" on board the ship.
He put spoonfuls of strawberry jam into his tea, and
insisted that I should join him. He had a great
admiration for Britishers.
In the evenings, when it was dark and rain spat, 1
wore a mackintosh on deck. The pockets were so
made that I can slip my hand behind a lapel and get
at my trouser pocket without unbuttoning the front
of the mackintosh. He was enthusiastic about this
contrivance. He watched me bring out bunches of
keys, and a penknife and kopecks, and had all the
DOWN THE SHILKA AND AMUR RIVERS. 163
delight of a child seeing an ingenious trick. He
tapped his beard, and said Britishers were clevei
people. His wife was a kindly old body, so kind that
I had not the courage to raise objection when she
handed me a piece of butter with her fingers.
Lastly, there was my stable-companion, the man
with whom I shared a cabin, an inspector of schools.
Most of his time was spent lying on his back smoking
cigarettes and drinking Crimean wine. At night-time
he snored with the snort of a tugboat. I can't sleep
with a snorer. So when he snored I whistled " Annie
Laurie," as shrill as I could. "Whistling is the one
thing that stops a snorer without any show of
offensiTeness. So whenever my gentleman snored I
began with the air describing the picturesqueness of
Maxwelton's braes, which made him twist and half
wake, and gave me an opportunity to doze before he
started again.
I have used the phrase " stable-companion." I've
known cleaner stables than our cabin. You can get
used to many things in time, but when the first
night I felt things dropping on my neck and crawling
on my cheek, and making excursions along my arm,
I struck a light and found the place swarming with
cockroaches.
My companion laughed and exclaimed,
"Nitchevo!"
" Nitchevo be hanged ! " I muttered, and I packed
up my belongings, walked the deck for several hours,
and then caught furtive snatches of sleep on four
chairs I arranged in the dining saloon.
The second- and third-class passengers had no
dining saloon. They just "pigged it," and after my
164 THE REAL SIBERIA.
account of how the 6lite on board fed you may get a
little idea of what that " pigging it " was like.
There was a stove for common use under one of
the hatches, and a great cauldron of water always on
the boiL There were no regular meal hours, except
that there was no eating, as far as I could see,
between midnight and four in the morning. The
second-class passengers had cabins, but the third-
class folk slept on deck with overturned kettles and
chunks of bread and bits of dried fish strewn round.
So away went the Admiral Tschchachoff down
the Shilka river till it joined the Argun river, and
thenceforth the stream was the Amur, Russia on the
left bank and Manchuria on the right. Scant villages
were on the Russian bank, a few huts, and a church.
The vessel swung round with her nose up-stream,
the anchor was thrown overboard, and there were halts
of an hour while a gang of cooKes scurried on shore
and brought together logs of timber for fueUing
purposes. The native women came with bread for
sale, and tousle-headed moujiks sat and blinked
and laughed at the boat.
The rivers wound through a thousand mUes of
pretty scenery, neither grand nor majestic, but just
pretty. The hiUs billowed. They were all wooded,
and as autumn had set in, the larch and the birch
were only green in sheltered hollows. On the crests
they were a mass of burnished gold, with here and
there a splash of deep crimson, as though the sun
had given them a hurried kiss in passing. Some-
times, when there was depth, the water swirled
beneath scarped and grey rock, with mosses and
flowers in the crevices.
DOWN THE SEILKA AND AMUR BIVEB8. 165
The sun always set in a purple haze, making the
river a sheet of claret. Then a biting chillness sent
one downstairs to hunt out a heavy coat. Night
Was born with a rich blueness, and the pale crescent
of a moon came up from behind the China hills, but
sank in an hour.
We overtook great rafts of tied timber, a hundred
yards along, floating on the stream, and kept in mid-
channel by three giant oars at each end. Often there
was a hut erected, and in front of it could be seen a
woman cooking the evening meal.
The Shilka and Amur are shallow rivers, studded
with islands and sand-banks. In places the stream
is half a mile wide, and yet the navigable channel
often not a hundred yards.
So always in the prow were standing two men,
one port and one starboard, pitching poles into the
water and shouting the depth : " Five feet ; six feet ;
seven feet ; four feet and a half; five feet," the day
and night through.
All along were posts, white on the Russian side
red on the Chinese, and the vessel zig-zagged from
one to the other, for that way lay the channel At
night the indications were white and red lamps.
Eerie were these little oil lamps, fringing for hundreds
of miles the low countries of Russia and China, and
pencilling the stream with their rays.
We would go for half a day and never see a hut.
But occasionally we would notice, clinging to the
shore, a slim, paddle-propelled "dug-out" boat —
such as our prehistoric ancestors used, and which
we put in museums when we find them in swamps —
and in it would be the lamplighter. Each man
166 TEE SEAL SIBERIA.
attends to about six lamps. What lonely lives these
men must lead !
But the Amur is notorious for its fogs. Stalking
up the river came white wraiths. With imagination
sufficient you could think them lost souls wandering
in the dusk. Soon they became embodied into a
thick clammy cloud. Then the Admiral Tschchachoff
sought the bank, the anchor was let loose, and there
we stayed, a little bundle of humanity hid on a river
in the far mysterious East, till morning broke, when
the sun swallowed the mist and we moved Pacific-
wards.
DOWN THE AMUR,
A PRISON BARGE ON THE RIVER
167
CHAPTER XV.
THE BLACK CRIME OF BLAGOVESTCHENSK.
For hundreds of miles the broad, shallow, but swift
Amur river curved and swept eastwards among the
hills — the left bank Russian, the right bank Chinese.
Then it made long stretches to the south. Never the
site of a hut was there on the Chinese side, but at
long intervals a ragged grey patch on the Russian
slopes told of a village.
To the eye it was an exceeding fair land. Yet, as
I have pointed out, the Siberian is no agriculturist,
and the lethargy of the Tartar makes him mentally
rheumatic. He won't work to-day because it is a
saint's day; he can't work to-morrow because it is
Sunday ; then comes Monday, and everybody knows
it is unlucky to commence anything on a Monday.
So the crops fail.
The winter months stretch from September to
May, when the land lies frozen. There is no spring.
In three days, or a week at the outside, winter dis-
appears and blazing summer comes. All nature
strives to make up for lost time. Everything grows
with a rapidity that is amazing.
Then, the Siberian has no eye for opportunity.
He sows his corn when it is too late, and he does not
think of reaping till the wheat is full ripe and half
rotten in the August rains.
Twice a day the Httle steamer Admiral Tsohcha-
chof— called after a former Minister of Marine who
168 TEE REAL SIBERIA.
never rose to popularity, chiefly, I fancy, owing to the
unpronounceability of his name — -would drop anchor
near one of these villages to take on passengers. At
every place were slither-limbed, pale-faced Chinamen,
who had no money and wanted a cheap passage.
Some of these Celestials were in their native attire,
blue-bloused, baggy-breeched, with greasy little skull-
caps and their scanty pigtails elongated with pieces
of black cord. Some, however, had met, civilisation
half-way. There was one skinny fellow with parch-
ment face who had on a Russian cap much too large
for him, so he held his head far back and squinted
down his nose to look under the brim. Also he wore
a huge pair of Russian top-boots, far too large for
him. So in walking he made a clatter like a small
son, aged three, who has a liking for his father's shoes.
There was a long-shanked Chinaman, whose nether
garments were truly Chinese. But for jacket he wore
a red and black striped " blazer," and for hat an old
English straw with a dirty yellow and blue band.
Their tales were voluble, and their countenances
melancholy, and so they got their free passage and
grinned triumphantly.
The captain of the Admiral Tschchachoff was a
smart young man, quite the sailor, blue-eyed, with
flaxen, torpedo beard, and clad in the conventional
navy blue, with gold braid.
Along with him was a pilot, a hulking Muscovite,
who wore an enormous fur coat and a great fur cap
through all the heat of the day.
It didn't take long to work up admiration for the
Amur pilots. The river is full of traps, and the
channel must be sought even in broad sheets of water.
THE BLAOK GBIME OF BLAG0VE8T0HEN8K. 169
Now and then there was a jar and a quivering as the
vessel touched and scoured the river bed. The
captain said that often he had to land all his
passengers to lighten the ship so that he could force
it to go bumping over the rocks for five or six versts.
If there was no fog the steamer journeyed through
the night. We had starlight, but the deep shadows
of the enclosing hills seemed to bulge out banks
where there were no banks. But always there were
the twinlding little oil lamps for guidance — blinking
white on Russian soil, dim ruby on the Chinese — and
by steering from light to Hght there was a fair
certainty of being in the channel.
Yet I should not use the word " always." On the
second night we were in the Amur there was missing
a red lamp on the China side. The consequence was
that going full steam from white light to white light
our ship just at " the witching hour " climbed with a
crash on a bank of shingle. Then was excitement.
The engines were reversed and the steamer
dragged herself off. But she was tugging the convict
barge I have already mentioned, and this barge, with
considerable way on, came tilting her nose right into
the stern of the steamer.
There was a crunch of broken wood and ripped
iron plates.
In the darkness no one could see what had
happened. The convict ship, however, swimg off.
The captain of the steamer gave orders for the helm
to be put over on the starboard side, and the engines
to go fuU steam. The engines did go fuU steam.
But alas ! the rudder had gone, and this was not
known till the steamer, as a sort of revenge, went
170 TEE BEAL SIBERIA.
furiously into the convict ship, which she did not
injure, though she smashed in her own bow.
We had a really lively quarter of an hour.
It was pitch dark, and the lamps on the ship
accentuated the darkness. Everything was at sixes
and sevens, and everybody shouted orders and cursed
the captain, and the women wailed and were certain
drowning was their lot. The two boats, however,
got alongside the Russian bank, and there we hung
till morning light came.
Meanwhile a horse had been got from somewhere,
and a man was sent off a thirty-mile ride to a
telegraph station, to wire up the river to check a
tugboat we had passed, and bring it back to take us
in tow. This caused a delay of thirty-six hours.
Personally, I didn't regret it. We were struck in
a pretty curve, with the distance lost in a purple
haze and the river widening out like a bit of scenery
in the "Lake District." Two hundred yards away
was China, and the thick trees were a mass of saffron
and ruddy tints. On our side stretched a plain
dotted with leafless birch, the bare boughs stretching
like grey antlers, and a couple of miles off reared
bluff crags.
The morning gave me opportunity, for which
there was no provision on board ship, to have a
bathe. I took a walk some mUes up stream through
long and tufted grass, and there had the luxury of
a swim.
The day was warm. There was no sound of bird
or of animal. Even the river flowed with a strange
stillness. The silence played curiously on the nerves.
I sat for an hour, a sort of amateur Robinson Crusoe,
THE ''GRAND HOTEL" AT BLAGOVESTCH ENSK
THE RIVER FRONT AT BLAGOVESTC H ENSK.
TEE BLAOK OBIME OF BLAdOVBSTOEENSK. 171
fairly certain that no other man had ever before been
there, musing on the scene.
There was a rustle among the trees, coming
nearer and nearer. A graceful antelope sprang out
not twenty yards from me. For nearly a minute we
looked at each other, neither moving. Then it
tripped down to the brink and swam the river.
In the afternoon I took a tramp inland — rough
going, for the ground was broken, reedy, and swampy
— and had a stiff climb among the pines tiU I got on
the hilltop. As far as eye could reach was a land
of wooded hills all splashed with autumnal hues.
The river stretched far away like a streak of silver.
At night, as dusk was falling, fires were lit on the
bank, and here the peasant passengers cooked their
meals, making picturesque figures in the glow of
the flames. Then many of them sang. They were
untutored folk, but instinctively they seemed to
take up different parts, and with winning, soothing
cadence they sang their Slavonic songs far into the
hushful night.
In the morning the tugboat had arrived. We
were tethered to it, and side by side we went our
way without further mishap.
The Amur became deeper and broader until
indeed it was a magnificent river. We passed other
boats going up-stream, stern-wheelers, two-deckers,
with long, thin chimney-stacks — exactly the kind of
boats to be seen on the American rivers. The hills
fell away to undulating pasture land.
At one place there was a heave, and the hillside
presented a sandy face. High up could easily be
traced a black streak of antediluvian vegetation
172 TEE REAL SIBERIA.
'twixt sand and sand. The Russians called this " the
smoking mountain." There had been spontaneous
combustion in the vegetation, and in places smoke
was oozing. Without attention being called to the
real cause, you might imagine the smoke was from
smouldering fires left by wandering peasants.
On the afternoon of Saturday, September 21st,
we reached Blagovestchensk, the principal town
between Irkutsk and the waters of the Pacific.
Half a dozen steamers lay moored to floating
wharfs, a large one flying the mail flag, leaving in a
couple of hours for Khabarovsk, a three days' journey
further down the river. Through passengers having to
make a hurried transit, I bade bon voyage to my
acquaintances, the Russian and French ladies, who
were getting a little tired of Siberia and eager for
the prettiness of lauded Japan. They went on. I
decided to stay in Blagovestchensk five days, till the
next post boat went down-stream.
Therefore I piled my belongings on a droshki and
told the hairy-faced driver to take me to the " Grand
Hotel," with much misgiving about the kind of place
it would turn out to be. And as I have grumbled
about other hotels I will give this its- due. It was
excellent. Its front was tawdry, blue and white
stucco, much like the French hotels you find over-
looking Swiss lakes, but it was clean, well furnished,
electric hghted, and its manager, a Frenchman, could
appreciate a Britisher's desire for water and plenty
of it.
Blagovestchensk was the briskest Siberian town
I had yet come across. It was proud of its position,
and as it is the fashion to compare this new land
^TEE BLAOK ORIMB OF BLAG0VE8T0HEN8Z. 173
with older lands, it has dubbed itself "The New
York of Siberia." It wasn't that. But again and
again I was struck with its likeness to an American
town.
It is laid out on the T-square plan, every street
running at right angles. The houses are of wood,
mostly single-storeyed, and yet in the middle of these
stand great three-storeyed public buildings, which you
would cross the street to look at if you saw them in
Moscow or Petersburg. The roads are in quite a
transatlantic neglected state, but fringed with wooden
side walks, and the main streets are festooned
with wires for electric hghting, telegraph, and tele-
phone. The shops are "stores," selling everything
from cigarettes to reaping machines. AU these stores
are in the hands of Germans or Russians from the
Baltic.
The droshki is old-fashioned in Blagovestchensk —
all right for slow-moving, slumbroiis old Russia, but
behindhand for a bustling Siberian city. A light
American rig, three parts spring, with a horse that
can " move," is the proper thing.
The youths are keen cyclists, and whizz along
on German and American machines. Just outside
the town are athletic grounds, with a weU banked-up
cycle track.
On the river front is a promenade with a double
row of trees and seats beneath them, where you can
rest and watch the setting of the sun over the
sho'jlder of China.
It is what the Americans call " quite a town."
Till twenty years ago it was little more than a
Cossack outpost. Now it has a population of nearly
174 TEE BEAL SIBERIA.
forty thousand. There is a public library with ten
thousand volumes, a little museum, not much to
speak of, however, two newspapers, one daily and the
other weekly, four banks, two large ironworks, seven
tanneries, two soap factories, three breweries, three
steam flour mills, three saw mills, and two rope yards.
Also there is a medical and charitable society, which
maintains a hospital for the poor, two dispensary
rooms, and a home for the aged, cripples, and
orphans. A fine brick-built club-house has a hall
adapted for theatricals.
Blagovestchensk is rather too far out of the general
world for touring dramatic companies to call though
last winter a touring operatic company settled in the
town, and three nights a week performed, more or less
successfully, all the well-known operas. There is an
amateur theatrical society and an amateur orchestral
society.
It is a great military centre, and young officers
in Blagovestchensk, being like young officers any-
where else, make the town anything but the dead-
and-alive place you might imagine if you know no
more about it than a spot on the map of Eastern Siberia.
Educationally there is what is caUed a " classical
gymnasium," really a secondary school — but Siberians,
like Western Americans, who call barber shops " ton-
sorial parlors," are fond of high-sounding names ; a
gymnasium for girls, three public schools for boys
and one for girls, a number of church parish schools —
even in Siberia the church schools and board schools
are often in conflict — and a special school where
" grown-ups " neglected in their youth have the
opportunity of receiving instruction.
THE BLAOK OBIMB OF BLAGOVESTCHENSK. 175
There is a good deal to be seen. In the first place
the people struck me as moving with a sharper, more
decided step than was discernible in towns further
west.
With the exception of the peasant class the
clothing worn is European in style, barring, of course,
the officials, who are as numerous here as elsewhere,
and march about with full appreciation of their
dignity in all the glory of many-coloured braids.
The manual labour of the town is chiefly done by
Chinese coolies. When John Chinaman has some
spare kopecks it is his delight to get into a droshki,
loll back, and have a Russian under his orders to
drive him about. Indeed, that Saturday evening,
when I went out to stroll I saw crowds of droshkis
sweep by, all laden with grinning Chinamen, their
pig-tails flapping about them and in some danger of
being caught by the wheel-spokes.
Rich gold-mining is in the hills within a hundred
mUes of Blagovestchensk, and there are plenty of
miners in the tovm — Koreans, as a rule, but of a
distinctly better type than the coolies. They are men
who have taken to the miners' dress : loose shirts, open
at the throat, thick belts, and big slouching Cali-
fornian hats, and, judging from the way they
swaggered along, fuU of the Korean equivalent for
picturesque though unprintable Californian oaths.
Like all gold centres, the cost of living in Blago-
vestchensk is expensive — quite three times as much
as in London. I am a man of few wants, but my
hotel bin was over £2 a day. A cup of coffee cost a
shilling.
On the Sunday morning, when all the church bells
176 TEE REAL 8IBEEIA.
were clanging and good Blagovestchensk folk were
hastening, armed with prayer-books, to worship, I
took a solitary walk along the Amur side.
On the way I passed through the camp where are
stationed some 3,000 soldiers. It was well situated
near a wood. The officers' quarters were of timber,
painted white, and there were scraggy gardens in
front. There were great long sheds for the troops,
but most of the men were under canvas. Their tents
were pitched on quite a different plan to that adopted
by British troops. There was first built up a square
of sods, not unlike a sportsman's shelter you see on
the moors at home, with an entrance on one side.
On the top of this was fixed the tent, which was really
a sort of square canvas lid which would throw the
rain beyond the bank In each were six beds, and
there was plenty of room to stand up. At every
point was a soldier on guard, bugles were continuously
sounding, officers and their orderUes were galloping
about.
" Foreigner " was, of course, stamped all over me,
and, although I received many curious glances, I
strolled where I pleased, with never a word of
hindrance.
These Russian white-bloused Tommies were just
as " larky " as their red-jacketed friends at Aldershot.
In one or two places men were out on parade, but
most of them were spending their Sunday as they
pleased. From some of the tents came the bleat of
accordions, and young feUows were laughing and
singing. Then I came across a group having
wrestling matches ; next some young feUows were
testing their jumping powers ; then groups squatted
THJS BLAGK CRIME OF BLAGOVESTOEENSK.m
in the shade of the trees smoking and gossiping. I
must say they were all sturdy, well-set, and healthy
men, clean and neat, and quite happy.
Still, hardly a tithe of the barracks was occupied.
There were rows of buildings with not a soul to be
seen ; also plenty of sheltering for horses, but no
horses. After traversing a mile of rough country
road, I came to another camp, barracks, and officers'
houses, but all forsaken and neglected. The windows
were smashed, the doors were broken away from their
hinges, rank grass grew around. For an hour I
sauntered here, and never saw a soldier. It was
as though I had come upon a city of the dead. Yet a
few days would put all these buildings into habitable
condition. In a straggling way the camp covers some
three miles, and there is accommodation for quite a
hundred thousand troops. Kussia has an eye on
future possibilities in this great military provision.
I had sauntered out to this spot with a particular
object. It was a beautiful, fresh Sunday morning,
and I sat down on the banks of the Amur, with the
river racing at my feet, and a couple of stones'-throw
away the reed-fringed boundary of Manchuria. The
place had an eerie attraction, for here in July of 1900
was perpetrated one of the greatest crimes.
In the spring of that year there was in Blagovest-
chensk a Chinese population of from eight to nine
thousand people. Seven of the largest stores of the
town belonged to Chinese merchants : there were
smaller dealers, and a great crowd of labourers.
When the siege of the Pekin Legations began,
Blagovestchensk, like the rest of the world, imagined
all the Europeans in Pekin had been massacred.
M
178 THE EEAL SIBERIA
They themselves were far from help, and on the
other side of the river drums began to beat and
banners waved, and then bullets came dropping into
the Blagovestchensk streets. The only Russian
troops in the town were some sixty Cossack soldiers
— not a large force if the place were attacked. The
Chinese in Blagovestchensk, however, remained in
their homes, absolutely quiet.
Fear, however, was in the heart of the governor.
He issued an order that all Chinese must pass over
to Manchurian territory before twenty-four hours.
" Yes," replied the Chinese, " we will go ; but how
are we to get across the river if we have no boats ? "
The twenty-four hours passed.
" Why have you not gone across the river ? "
demanded the governor.
" We have no boats. Give us boats and we will
go," urged the Chinese.
The only answer was that the Cossacks, with
fixed bayonets, surrounded a hundred Chinamen.
" Now march ! " said they, and they marched,
weeping, pleading, round the back of the town, along
the dusty country road, tOl they came to the very
spot where I sat solitary, smoking my pipe on this
Sunday morning.
"Get across the river!" was the order.
The Cossacks made a half-circle round the
Chinese, who were like a flock of distraught sheep.
" Across the river you get ! " and the bayonet
points pressed the Chinese into the water, up to
their waists, further stiU up to their necks, and then
further stUL
When they were all drowned, back marched the
THE BLAOK OBIME OF BLAGOrESTOHENSE. 179
Cossacks to the town for another batch of Chinamen.
These, too, were driven to the same place, where the
same fate awaited them. Backwards and forwards
came and went the Cossacks.
At the end of two days there was not a single
Chinaman in Blagovestchensk. The authorities
admit that 4,500 were drowned. Probably there
were more.
For days there floated down the Amur, past the
full stretch of the town, a sorry, silent procession of
the dead. Now and then, like a tangle of weeds,
bodies massed against the wharves and between
moored vessels and the shore. Men were employed
with long poles to push the corpses into the stream
again.
Then the Chinese on the Manchurian side began
to pester Blagovestchensk with rifles. A few
windows were broken, but not a single person was
injured, though I beheve official accounts state forty
were killed. Presently troops began to arrive from
Russia and Western Siberia. There was instantly
an expedition into Manchuria, whereupon the
Chinese scattered hke the wind. But their towns
and villages and farmsteads and crops for fifty miles
round, including the great Chinese city of Aigun,
were laid waste by fire.
The drowning of these poor defenceless Chinamen
has fixed a brand on Blagovestchensk never to be
forgotten. The people don't like to talk about it.
They know it was a barbarous act, and they are
ashamed. Those, however, who spoke to us freely
and openly, were stirred with indignation. The
man who gave the fiendish order was still governor
180 THE REAL SIBERIA.
of tlie town, and no one can understand why the
Czar, one of the most humane of men, has not
banished the ofifender, to show reprobation of an
act which has placed indehble stain on a young and
flourishing city.*
Well, there was no trace of the crime that Sunday
morning, as I — ^a wandering Britisher — sat and
listened to the distant ringing of the church bells
and thought of the death cries that had gone up
from this spot. The river was Hke burnished steel,
and flocks of birds made the trees musical.
Then I heard the clatter of hoofs and young
laughter. Along the country road, through a veil
of dust, came half a dozen droshkies. In the first sat
a bride, radiant as the sunshine, half reclining in the
arms of her husband. In the other droshkis were
friends, the gayest of village throngs, off to the town
for the marriage feast.
It was well they had no remembrance just then
for the place that will be pointed at with a shudder
when they and their joys have passed out of all
knowledge.
Then I re-fiUed my pipe and strolled back to
Blagovestchensk.
• I have since learnt that the offending governor, General
Ghitchegoff, has heen degraded and moved to a minor post near
Archangel.
Jl!i!MJ
181
CHAPTER XVI.
SOME COMPANIONS AND SOME TALES.
At Blagovestchensk I stayed five days, and made the
acquaintance of many Russians. They were hospi-
tality itself. Everything was done to make the
visitor have what is called " a good time."
But I could not fail noticing an absence of those
cosy comforts which go so much towards making an
English home pleasant. There was httle taste shown
anywhere. If a man was wealthy he let it be known
by gold and blue ornamentations and by his wife
wearing a gown of blue plush.
A boat from down river brought to the town two
French officers among its passengers. They were on
their way from Pekin to Paris — a couple of typical
Gauls, young, with pointed black beards, quite a la
Frangais. They wore uniforms, and uniformed
French officers had never been in Blagovestchensk
before. The town is fall of military, and therefore
the appearance of these gentlemen in baggy red
pantaloons created as much sensation as though the
entire French army had honoured the town with a
visit.
On the day I left the Russian officers gave the
two French officers a luncheon.
A boat had also come down river from Streitinsk,
and at the hotel table I spied a bright-eyed, alert
little fellow. He spied me also.
" Hello," he cried, " guess you're a Britisher,
182 TEE RKAL SIBERIA.
I'm an American from San Francisco. I'm in
the commission line, and been working hard for
nine years and never gave way. Had to take a
holiday ; so thought I'd just run over to Eu-rope and
through Siberia and home. No, I didn't go to London
or Paris ; went straight to Hamburg, then two days in
Berlin, two in Petersburg, and half a day in Moscow.
Wonderful country Siberia ! Only know one word of
Russian ; but I've done business — yes, enough to pay
cost of my trip. Now, what's your hne ? "
We fraternised. America and Great Britain had
a bond in common, for just then Russia and France
were in each other's arms. Russian hospitality ran
riot in honour of those two young French officers. It
fiUed them with vodki, caviare, salted roes, onions,
and tomatoes — just to raise an appetite. Then they
fed. There were fifteen courses.
The American and I had a dispute whether
there were twenty- three or only eighteen separate
toasts. Russian officers sprang to their feet, were
voluble in bad French, every wine-glass was overspilt
with champagne, " Vive la France ! " was yelled, and
a regimental band stationed outside struck up the
" Marseillaise."
Somebody produced a tricolour flag, and the
shouting was glorious.
They started eating again. Once again up bounced
a big and burly Russian, with orders all over him,
holding a glass of champagne and trickling it down his
tunic as he splashed a speech of convivial French and
Russian, all mixed. More yells of " Vive la France ! "
more banging of the " Marseillaise," more waving of
the tricolour, more champagne — a great deal more.
SOME 00MPANI0N8 AND SOME TALES. 183
" Say," remarked the American to me, " I'd give
ten dollars to have the Stars and Stripes waving here
just now. How do you feel ? "
" Well, I think I'd prefer the Union Jack."
" Now, if I could only speak Russian I'd go out
and buy that band, and make it play ' Yankee
Doodle." How do you feel ? "
" Well, were I man of wealth I think I'd choose
' God save the King ' or perhaps ' Rule Britannia.' I
feel very Rule Britannia-ish listening to all that talk
about Russia and France licking the world."
" Here's to old England ! " said the American,
raising his glass.
" And here's to the bald-headed eagle ! " said I,
raising mine.
After more speeches and more champagne, and
more vivas, and more band playing, and then more
champagne again, our warriors got sentimental.
They put their arms round one another's necks and
kissed each other.
That made me lausfh and my new friend swear.
He swore what he would do if any drunken Russian
attempted to kiss him.
Then the Russians took the Frenchmen's hats
and donned them, and put the Russian caps on
French heads, which was rather ridiculous, for the
caps were big and the French heads small. But two
French caps would not go round a company of fifty
officers. The next move was to swap epaulettes.
Still there were many unsatisfied. " Leave us a
button, anjrway!" was next the cry, and instantly
those Frenchmen were attacked with knives, and
buttons were hacked from them.
184 THE HEAL SIBERIA.
The Frenchmen were as lambs. They looked
with glassy eyes at their entertainers, and we came
away, for we shuddered at their ultimate sartorial
fate.
On the steamer De Witte, called after the Russian
Minister of Finance, I journeyed down the Amur
from Blagovestchensk to Khabarovsk.
Besides the usual crowd of officers and ordinary
Russians, there was my American friend, another
American, an engineer looking for openings for
American machinery, a German engaged in starting
stores for a Hamburg firm, a young Austrian sent
out by the Vienna Chamber of Commerce to report
on trade possibilities, two Frenchmen and their wives,
and myself, the solitary Britisher.
Broad and majestic swept the Amur southwards.
At first great plains stretched on either side, whUe
tufts of distant trees on the right marked where
were a few huddled huts constituting a Manchurian
village,
At dusk, that first evening out of Blagovestchensk,
Thursday, September 26th, we halted for an hour at
Aigun, or rather aU that remains of Aigun. Fifteen
months ago it was a thriving Chinese city, the largest
in Manchuria. But at the Boxer rising it poured its
soldiers along the bank to the big Russian town.
Terrible was the Russian revenge. The Chinese fled
to the interior; the few that remained were put to
the sword, and the city was reduced to a mass of
ashes and gaunt charred walls.
A few Cossack soldiers were moving about the
banks with lamps, but others were standing on the
shore front with fixed bayonets to drive back
SOME 00MFANI0N8 AND BOMB TALES. 185
any of us who might show an exploring inquisitive-
ness.
Later on we came to mountains. The frosty
nights that were now setting in had nipped the
leaves from the trees. So no longer were the hills
garmented in gorgeous hues. They were stern and
solemn. The river Hingan joined the main stream,
and then the pace between the jaws of lofty rocks
was that of a torrent.
Beautifully blue was the Amur. At one place
there was no indication we were on a river. For
a day we seemed to be sailing over a gigantic still-
faced inland sea, dotted with a thousand isles.
All down the Russian side we were constantly
passing settlements of Cossacks, the semi-barbarous,
fearless bandits of the Don regions, that Russia has
turned into capital soldiers.
Since the beginning of the seventeenth century,
when the Cossacks were first sent over the Urals,
these men have set their mark on this territory. Yet
after the first thirst for empire extension Russia left
the Amur region alone, and it is only comparatively
recently that the spirit has broken forth again. As
Russia has advanced, China has retired. Every fresh
treaty has widened the frontiers of Russia. I am a
yoiuig man, and yet it has been within my lifetime
that the Muscovites have set about the colonisation
of the Amur region. It was in 1869 that a body of
two hundred Russians first squatted on the banks of
the river intent on farming.
Excellent and picturesque as the country looks,
the Amur region is not likely to ever do much in
agriculture. The winter lasts eight months, and it
186 TEE REAL SIBERIA
has the disadvantage of being snowless, so that there
is no sledging except on the frozen rivers. Indeed,
the snowfall east of Baikal is trifling. Quite two-
thirds of the Amur proviace is forest, mostly dwarf
trees. On the remaining third it is calculated there
is room for quite six hundred thousand settlers, but
on the whole track there is, as yet, not a tithe of that
number.
A steady flow of immigration, however, is going
on. But a great body of the newcomers get tired
and go back to their old homes before they have
given the land a chance. Quite a number of our
deck passengers were folk who had come here in the
spring, grown homesick, and were journeying to
Vladivostock, where they expected to find a cheap
ship that would take them back to Odessa and
Southern Russia.
I had a talk with a Russian administrator of the
river district, and he bemoaned the way agri-
culture was pursued by peasants who have already
settled. Their husbandry was wasteful. They would
grow five or six crops on the same patch of land,
never manure it, and when it was exhausted abandon
it and move elsewhere. I pointed to the consider-
able importation of agricultural machinery as a good
sign. In reply, I was pessimistically told it was
nothing of the kind; that, indeed, machinery only
tended to the more wasteful exploitation of the
land.
White Manchurian wheat is grown in the Amur
province because it is more suitable to the Chinese
than Russian red wheat. The horses are poor, kept in
droves in the summer, and in the winter fed with hay
SOiTB GOMFANIONS AND SOME TALES. 18V
soaked in salt water. The cows are small and lean,
have udders covered with hair, and the nipples are
quite undeveloped, so that the milk obtained is
infinitesimal. This is the result of the settlers
having crossed the cows first sent out to them from
Russia with the Manchurian cows, which are never
milked.
The proportion of pigs to the population is at
least three to one. If the pig doesn't exactly pay
the rent in Siberia, he provides practically the only
flesh food the people have. But he is a disreputable
rascal — compared with the fat, wallowing, clear-
skinned, panting old porker at home — as thin as a
rail, mouse-coloured, all bristles, and goes grubbing
for his food in the most offensive quarters.
Away in the interior are little settlements of
gold diggers, winning quantities of the metal, leading
riotous Hves and making for the town when the
winter sets in and digging becomes impossible.
The thing, however, out of which the inhabitants
— immigrant Russians and the Mongolian tribes, with
squat noses and high cheek-bones and slender wrists
and ankles — scratch an existence is hunting
Several of the big Moscow fur firms have travellers
continuously going about this district, buying the
skins of sable, fox, squirrel, wolf, and indeed aU fur-
providing animals. With the money so earned the
folks of the Amur are able to purchase a little wheat
and tea, and so with the aid of the hardy swine
they exist — a life which the Western European
cannot understand.
We were quite a friendly party on the steamer
carrying us to Khabarovsk. There
188 TEE REAL SIBERIA
and card-playing and general steamboat agreeable-
ness.
There was an iron-haired, smart-set old Russian
officer, who was Ml of good stories of the expeditions
in which he had taken part for the conquest of the
Amur when he was a young man. He chuckled
with glee narrating how the needy officers got the
best of the poor natives by using labels of champagne
bottles, or the pictures off boxes of chocolates, as
" AU the same as ten-rouble notes."
The weather was delicious, the sky wonderfully
blue, the air genial in the middle of the day, but
at night with a bite of frost in it. Then the moon,
seeming larger than we sight it in old England,
hung like a great silver lantern in the high south,
and the steamer followed its quivering reflection
down river as though it were the appointed traU.
Remarked my San Francisco acquaintance one
day: — " Say, I guess you're laying it down pretty thick
in the newspaper articles you're writing about
adventures in Siberia ? "
" No," I answered, " I can't say I am. I'm telling
the approximate truth — just one's impressions in
going through Siberia."
"Why, h — l! If an American newspaper man
didn't send home some good stories about fights
with Cossacks and shooting bears, and being arrested
as a spy, and about nearly dying in the snow, he'd
be thought nothing of. See here ! "
He showed me a great sheepskin-lined coat, un-
wrapped a bashlik to wrap about the head, produced
great wool feet coverings and general Arctic gear.
" That's my Siberian outfit ! " said ha « I'll have
MY FELLOW PASSENGERS ON THE " DE WITTE.'
\J^
COSSACK CAMP ON THE MANCHURIAN SIDE OF THE AMUR.
SOME COMPANIONS AND SOME TALES. 189
to dirty them a bit just to make tliem look real, for
I've never worn them. Why, if I went back to San
Francisco and told them how I just wore my
ordinary summer clothes, and that the cars in Siberia
were as good as those of the Southern Pacific, and
that these boats are just first-rate, where you can
get champagne and aU the delicacies, do you think
they'd believe me ? No ; they would put me down
as a gor-darned liar. They think I'm in the country
where snow and ice are made, and they'll want me
to tell 'em things. And I'll tell 'em! Oh, h— 1,
but I've got some good stories. You see, there's
that ride my mate and I and you had on the prairie
when we had to eat our candles for food ! You
know the driver was so cold that we had to hit him
to prevent him closing his eyelids, which would
freeze together! Then there's the raft journey;
how we were sweeping down the great Amur river
when the Chinese opened fire on us from the Man-
churian side, and how we had to get ander the raft
with just our mouths above the water and so fioat
down till we got out of reach ! Here's my revolver !
The time I used that was when I was arrested
because the Russians thought I wanted to steal a bit
of their Siberia, and I kept oif sixteen Cossacks
when they wanted to put me in chains."
" And your friends will Uke that sort of talk ? " I
ventured.
"Like it! Why, it's the only thing they'll
believe. You know, they thought I was going to
certain death in coming to Siberia. When I get
back to 'Frisco I'll not go up to my house. I'll
register at the Palace Hotel. The clerks'U ring up
190 THE REAL SIBERIA.
the newspapers and say, ' has just come back from
Siberia.' Then the newspaper men will come along.
H — 1 ! do you think they'd put a line down if I told
them I'd never seen a bit of snow, never saw a
prisoner, that it's a wonderful country for cattle-
rearing and wheat-growing, that it's just like stretches
of our own country ? No ; a man who has been to
Siberia is a great traveller in America, and if he
don't play the part he's pretty slow or else he's a liar.
And you're just telling exactly what Siberia is like —
and you a newspaper man ! "
" Yes, as well as I can."
" Well, you're a wonder. You may be aU right
for England, but American newspapers don't pay
men for that. They want a good story."
Now, none of us on the steamer developed much
admiration for our captain. He was the greatest
sluggard that ever sat on deck, for he was usually
in a chair smoking cigarettes — when he was not in
his cabin sleeping. When he slept the boat was
hitched to the bank, and Chinese coolies were
leisurely trotting on board with logs of wood for
fuel.
We went ashore, walked among the long withered
grass, startled wild fowl, came back, found the wood
all on board, and the captain still asleep.
Some of us were anxious to get on, but when we
mildly remonstrated he gave us a " Nitchevo ! "
what did it matter when or how we arrived at
Khabarovsk, he would be there within the broad-
margined time allowed for the delivery of the mails.
He evidently planned to land us a couple of hours
before he reached the limit of his post time. But as
SOME COMPANIONS AND SOME TALES. 191
luck would have it, just when we were within thirty
miles of our destination, and had packed our bags
and were ready to go ashore, clouds of smoke came
rolling up the river. The adjoining forests were on
fire, billowing the heavens with dun smoke.
So, in late afternoon, we tied up to the Man-
churian side, and stayed there till eight next morning,
when the wind veered, and we could go on. We
arrived nearly a day late, and all of us, Russians and
foreigners alike, much disposed to lynch the captain.
He drew up a long protocol stating that the delay
was due to no fault of his, so he might escape
the fine for late delivery of the mails. He wanted
us to sign it. We said we would see him hanged
first.
Khabarovsk is magnificently situated. Loolc at
the map, and you will see how it is just where the
Ussuri river joins the Amur, which stretches off to
the north and tumbles into the Pacific. The town,
divided by deep ravines, is connected with long rows
of stairs, whilst on each ridge runs a main street
with the branch streets tumbling down the mounds,
so that the place almost looks like three towns
tacked together.
Its importance, however, is purely administrative.
There are huge public buildings of red brick, and
overlooking the river are barracks. The Russian
population is but a handful, and every Russian man
is an official of some sort, and uniformed.
Most of the stores are kept by Chinamen, and five
out of six people I met in the broad, wind-swept
streets were Chinamen — not fine, broad-faced men, as
I have seen in the interior of China itself, but crowds
192 THE BBAL SIBERIA
of weak, withered-faced, slouching men, who slunk on
one side when a Russian came along.
Also there were many Koreans, slim, gentle-
looking, sallow- skinned, slit-eyed, with scraggy tufts
of thin hair on the chins for beard, but all having
a certain picturesqueness in their white bunched-up
garb, and singular hats, black, and in shape not
unlike those you see worn by countrymen in out-of-
the-way corners of Wales. There are hardly any
women in Khabarovsk ; indeed, the official census of
last year put down the proportion as eleven men
to every woman.
High over the river is the residence of the
governor-general, a first-rate museum, chiefly filled
with loot as the result of the Chinese disturbances —
robes and cannon, carts and coffins, and also a Ubrary
with some forty thousand books. Public gardens,
with nothing in the way of flowers, but pleasant
paths, nicely shaded, adorn the slope overlooking the
Amur.
There was the broad, steel-breasted river below,
with slim Chinese dug-outs floating on the current.
A little to the left clustered half a dozen white-
painted steamers, lying silent. Ahead and to the
right curved the Amur, down which I had journeyed
a thousand miles, and in the far distance the purple
hills of Manchuria.
On the topmost height of Khabarovsk, standing on
a granite pedestal and surrounded by cannon, is the
bronze statue of Count Muravieff, the man who won
Eastern Siberia for Russia. He completed the work
begun centuries back by Yermak, the Volga pirate.
The march of empire had been eastwards for Russia.
SOME COMPANIONS AND SOME TALES. 193
It was Muravieff who saw the dream of the Mus-
covite turned into a reality. He founded Vladi-
vostok and gave Russia a port on the Pacific. His
statue now overlooks the great region of the Amur,
and Russians as they pass take off their hats.
i9i
CHAPTER XVII.
THE land's end OF SIBERIA.
It was necessary to rise early at Khabarovsk — "when
a chill grey dawn was crawling from the Pacific and
lifting the mist from the Manchurian hills — in order
to catch the train from Vladivostok.
This was the last section of the great trans- Asian
line, and exactly thirty-two hours was taken to cover
the 483 miles.
Of course the railway station was three miles from
the town, and the roadway was just a network ot
tracks among a tangle of undergrowth, aU decaying
and colourless beneath the first breathing of winter.
I had to grip tight the little droshki or the violent
thuds against tree stumps and the sudden lurches
into holes would have pitched me out a dozen times.
The two horses were sturdy, energetic little brutes —
one running in the shaft and the other running at
the side, Hke the hitching of an extra tram horse to
help the car up the hiU : the approved method of
driving a pair in Siberia — and rattled along in good
style.
The station itself was all bustle and noise. The
entrance haU was packed with Chinamen shouting
gutturally and bumping about with loads, while meek,
white-robed, and quaint-featured Koreans squatted on
their heels in corners. Russians, chiefly officials in
their greys and blues, gilt epaulettes, white-peaked
caps, and top boots of pliable leather, took possession
of the buffet with their bundles.
A
t
THREE KOREANS.
FROM THE CARRIAGE WINDOW IN EASTERN SIBERIA.
TEE LAND'S END OF SIBERIA. 195
Here was constant tea-drinking and the dipping of
long rolls into the tea and eating them in a soppy
state. These rolls are sprinkled with little seeds that
make the food look as though it was fly-blown.
Indeed, as every mirror and candlestick and picture
in Siberia is speckled by industrious flies, I have an
idea that the seed is sprinkled on the cakes to
deceive the eater who cannot tell by eyesight whether
the spots are seeds or fly-marks.
Half an hour before the train started there was the
clang of the bell, the doors were thrown open, and a
pell-mell rush to the platform and carriages took place.
The scene was one that had a close comparison to
that you see in India. Instead, however, of British
officers walking up and down with the confident stride
of superiority while the Hindus and Mohammedans
gave way acknowledging inferiority, there were
Eussian officers clean and smart promenadiag the
platform while the slithering, cowering Chinese and
the cringing, frightened Koreans made room for
them..
I strolled about watching the scene. There was
little that was arrogant in the demeanour of the
Kussians, save the consciousness of importance that
every man shows more or less when in uniform. But
marked was the dominance of character displayed by
the Russians and the recognition of it by the Chinese
and the Koreans.
The Eussian has a strong streak of the East in his
nature. But this is covered and hidden by ready
adaptation of Western civilisation. The Eussian, as you
see him in Petersburg or in Moscow in direct contact
with other civilisations, often gives indications of his
196 THE REAL SIBERIA.
Tartar origin. These traits, thougli they remain, fail,
however, to strike you when you see the Russian in
the far east of his empire, the master of a hundred
races. There he is the white, civilised Westerner,
whose stride is that of a conqueror. The Mongolians,
who once scourged the world, now bustle and make
an avenue to let pass a young lieutenant with eight
brass buttons on his coat, gold epaulettes on his
shoulders, and a black scabbarded sword at his side.
In earlier chapters I rather dwelt upon the free
and easy, almost democratic life of the Siberians,
largely due to the fact that the genuine Siberian was
never a serf as the Russian was. He, therefore, shows
hardly any servility in his disposition, and is free to
talk about his government as no man dare speak in
Petersburg. I noticed this as soon as I crossed the
Urals, and was impressed with the fact by the time I
got to Irkutsk.
But at Irkutsk there ended the great stretch ot
Siberia that had been inhabited by Russian settlers
and political exiles. Eastwards beyond Lake Baikal
reared a mountainous territory, undeveloped, un-
favourable to settlers, with scanty, decaying Buriat
tribes in the valleys, and occasional gangs of convicts
or adventurers working for gold and silver in the
hills. AU through the trans-Baikal and Amur
provinces, however, with the thinnest of population,
consisting of immigrants from Russia, who had not
come imder the influence of the Siberian freedom,
this democratic aspect was missing. Troops of
Cossack soldiers on the banks of the Shilka and
Amur rivers were the directors of policy, and bayonets
the arguments.
ON THE USSURI LINE
t
^ ; A.
g^
x".- 1
^J
>jlH
fi^
\j s 'ffittHHS
^9
^
•»=-,^
^
1 M^S
^8
^^
=j
ii
USPi
■S
WAYSIDE STATION.
THE LAND'S END OF SIBERIA. 197
At Khabarovsk and down to Vladivostok I found
myself in another stratum. Not one in ten of the
Eussians had come here through Siberia. The great
majority had travelled round from Odessa by sea.
They were Russians proper, and all the severe, rigid,
official discipHne was in evidence. Everything was
in accordance with regulation.
For instance, I went out on the gangway between
the railway coaches to admire the scenery. " That is
against the rules; you must not stand there; it is
strictly forbidden," said the conductor.
Later on he came to my compartment, where the
back of one of the seats was raised to allow the lower
seat to be broader to make a bed.
" You must please let me alter that seat to its
usual state for daytime," he said.
" But I want it to remain as it is," I replied,
" because I may desire to lie dowp and sleep."
" But the regulations ! " he urged.
" Never mind the regulations," I answered, " that
is going to remain." He brought a superior, who,
however, only shrugged his shoulders, and let the
foreigner have his way.
All the officers on the train by paying third-class
fare were able to travel second-class, which is almost
as good as the first. There was not room for all,
however, and many were obliged to actually travel
third. But the third-class coaches were already
heaving hives of Chinese and Chinamen's multifarious
bundles. From one of these carriages the Chinamen
and their belongings were ignominiously ejected.
They went like cattle. An ordinary goods van, with-
out seats or windows, and with sliding panels for doors,
198 TEE REAL SIBERIA.
was in the rear of the train, and into this as many-
Chinamen as possible scrambled, filling it till there
seemed to be only standing room. Still other
Chinamen attempted to struggle in, but were driven
back.
"Are you going to put on another waggon for
them ? " I inquired.
" Oh, no, they are only Chinamen, and they will
have to wait till to-morrow's train."
The night was bitterly, bitingly cold. We first-
class passengers were comfortable enough with our
double windows and hot-air pipes. But those shivering
Chinamen ! I heard a hubbub at a wayside station
in the darkness of the night and jumped out. There
were a few flickering lamplights piercing the blackness.
" What's the matter?" I asked an official.
" Ob, those Chinamen in the waggon want to have
the doors closed because they say it is cold."
" Poor devils ! and so it, is," I said. " Why can't
they have the place closed up, and so keep themselves
a little warm ? "
" Well, it is against the regulations for them to be
shut up so that the conductor can't see what they are
doing."
On the train was a first-class restaurant car. At
one end was a buffet where aU sorts of snacks were on
sale, and a white-bloused, white-capped chef presided.
There were, however, no regulation hours for meals.
You had what you liked, when you liked. In the
morning, when I had my coffee, there was a telegraph
official, yeUow braided, sitting next me drinking vodka,
and opposite was an engineer, green braided, noisily
slitherii^g soup into his mouth ; and a little up the
TEE LAND'S END OF SIBERIA. 199
table was a military officer, gold and red braided,
drinking tea and eating cakes.
The country we ran through in that two days'
journey was first over a stretch of country wooded
with thin-limbed trees, but mountainous in the hazy
distance. At places the ground was ripped with
torrents. There were stretches of dreary, drab-coloured
grass a yard high.
Compared with the railway journey between
Moscow and Streitinsk, this Ussuri section of the
trans-Siberian line was badly laid. It was jolt and
jerk and bump all day and all night long. I felt
at times that if only the engine managed to get off
the metals the running might have been easier.
Long sweeps of the line were under repair,
fresh metals being put down and better ballasting
provided. All the work was done by soldiers, well-
built young fellows, with their shirts open at the
throat, their braces hanging loose, and a little
yellow-banded cap stuck on the back of their
heads.
On the second day we ran through a wild
country, with huge, roimd-shouldered hills and
shadowy dells reminiscent of wildest Scotland if,
instead of heather hues, you can conceive sides
bunched with rich variegated undergrowth.
Somebody shouted something.
On the right, far off, like the gleam of a sword
blade, was the glitter of the Pacific Ocean. I had
travelled far since I saw the sea before. And then
the sunset! I have a weakness for sunsets, and
this one was wonderful ; a mass of gold and blood,
like a great cauldron into which other worlds were
200 THE REAL SIBERIA.
thrown, banking up the heavens behind a mass of
clouds.
The train reached the edge of the sea and
hastened along, between cleft rocks, shrieking its
progress, and the echoes came back from the hills.
A few Chinese junks were stranded on the shore.
We began to run by a suburb of shanties. Then we
stopped beneath a hill.
What place was this ? Well, this was the original
Vladivostok station, and you had to drive by droshki
a few versts over the hill to the town. This was in
strict accordance with the planting of Siberian
stations.
The train grunted on up an incline and round
an elbow of rock. Dusk was closing in. I stood at
the window. There was the Pacific, smooth and
now as dull as a sheet of lead. By the line tramped
soldiers who had ceased work for the day. There
was a little log-built, drab-painted hut. Before it
stood a man holding a green flag. I am sure it was
his brother I saw at the first signal-hut out of
"Moscow nearly two months before. He was wearing
a beard like him, and his peaked cap was pulled well
over his eyes. His red shirt was hanging just
outside his trousers just in the old way. And the
green flag was wrapped round the little stick in
umbrella folds, just as it was a verst east of Moscow.
Those signalmen and those green flags I had
seen all the way, save on the Shilka and Amur
rivers, and there the signals were red and white
posts.
The back yards of rows of houses crept into
view just as they do when you are introduced to an
THE LAND'S END OF SIBERIA. 201
English town by rail. Then came the crossing of a
broad street, and the iron barriers were checking a
surge of traffic — carts and carriages, uniformed
Eussians, white-smocked Koreans, blue-shirted
Chinese.
We were in Vladivostok station, the end of the
great trans-Siberian railway line, and it was the
only station from Petersburg to the Pacific that was
right in the town. As I jumped from the carriage,
my eye was attracted by a big board on which, in
massive letters, was inscribed : " Vladivostok to St.
Petersburg, 9,877 versts." It was five o'clock in the
evening of Wednesday, October 2nd, but nine o'clock
in the morning by Greenwich time.
Most of us take to towns as we do to persons —
at the first blush or not at all. I felt attracted to
Vladivostok before I had been in it ten minutes.
About the station was vigorous, energetic life. A
porter seized my baggage, and instead of slouching
ran so that I might secure a carriage. He was the
first Russian I had ever seen in a hurry.
The drivers were alive, and swung up their
horses with a crack. Most of these men were fair-
whiskered and light-eyed, picturesquely clad in cloaks
of blue velvet and with red shirt sleeves sticking
through the armholes. On their heads were curly
astrakhan hats.
The carriage rattled over the stones of a strongly
paved street. On the right was the harbour, a fine
fifty-acre kind of lake, hill locked. In strong array
were anchored in line eight Russian men-o'-war
ships, all painted white, and apparently ready for
business. Little launches puffed and snorted.
202 TEE BEAL SIBERIA.
On the quay side were two passenger steamers,
one in that morning from Japan. The singing of the
Chinese gangs as they trotted along under the weight
of bales was heard aboTe the clatter of wildly driven
droshkies — and all the carriages in Vladivostok tear
along as though there was a chariot race, so that, as
there is no rule of the road, you are on the brink of a
newspaper paragraph whenever you go out — while
little bunches of sailors went rolling by rather drunken,
and with their arms round each other's necks.
On the other side of the street reared huge white
painted balustraded and ostentatious stores, as big as
the shops in Kegent Street, but not so continuous.
Building was everywhere, a big hotel here, a
colossal magasin there, a block of offices somewhere
else, everything telling of a new town in the throes
of development — a broad asphalted pavement at one
place, planks broken and uneven in another.
On the slope of a hill I saw the stars and stripes
of America waving over a house. I looked about for
the Union Jack but could not see it.
When I had settled in my hotel, run on the
American plan — so much a day for room and board,
and you pay whether you have it or not — I went out
to visit the English Consul. There wasn't one. So I
called upon the American representative, Mr. Theodore
Greener, whose position is that of Commercial Agent
for the United States. I found him in a neat office,
with walls decorated with stars and stripes, the book-
cases full of reports on trade, and all odd corners
filled with catalogues of American firms who want to
open up a business connection with Eastern Siberia.
"And there isn't a British Consul or British
THE LAND'S END OF SIBERIA. 203
representative here?" I moaned with patriotism in
the dust.
"No. There are commercial representatives of
France and Germany and America, Holland and
Japan, but no British representative. One or two of
the Britishers here have been worrying your Foreign
Office this last year or two, but they don't take much
notice. Guess you Britishers don't want trade. We
Americans and the Germans have the most of it.
Still this would be a chance for England. America
and Kussia have a tariff war on now, and there is a
40 per cent, duty on American goods."
"And that had crippled American imports?" I
asked.
" Yes, quite considerable. But the war will soon
be over."
" Do many commercial men come here opening
up business ? "
" Oh, yes, but not many Britishers ; they're chiefly
Americans. My commercial reports are published by
the State Department, and every mail brings me a
letter from firms all over the States asking if I'd
distribute a few of their circulars. Of course I would.
I tell them to send plenty right along. That's what
I'm here for. Quite a few American business men —
maybe paying a visit to Japan — run up here just to
see if there are any dollars about. Well, I take them
about, introduce them to men who are likely to do
import trade, and explain to them Russian methods.
Vladivostok looks out of the world on a map, but it
is going to be a great place for trade in a year or two."
All my investigations during a stay of over a
week in Vladivostok were, I confess, not particularly
204 THE REAL SIBERIA.
appetising to my nationality. There is one English
firm working a coal mine, some little distance out of
the town, and making it pay ; the same firm send a
steamer once a year up to Kamschatka, and barter
rice and cheap guns for skins; also, they hope to
have the concession to illuminate Vladivostok with
electricity and run electric cars. But apart from this
firm little is done by English folk.
The impression left on my mind, after inquiring
into the foreign import trade aU through Siberia, is
that Germany comes first, America makes a good
second, while Great Britain is a very bad third, with
France and Austria on her heels.
Yladivostok certainly needs a British Commercial
Agent. A university man is not necessary, but a
man who understands trade, who is not above finding
out the price of candles in local stores, who will keep
his eyes on things in demand, and knows how cheaply
they can be made in England, would be invaluable.
One day I lunched with the representative of the
Vienna Chamber of Commerce, who was travelling
through Siberia looking where there were openings
for Austrian wares. He was spending five weeks in
Vladivostok alone. He was acquainted with the
manufactures of his own country. He bought samples
of Russian goods, sent them off to Vienna, reported
the general price and gave a list of Russian firms
who would be likely to buy Austrian articles.
Another day I met a Britisher from Shanghai
who was half despondent and half blasphemous about
British trade not holding its own.
Personally I know the majority of British Consuls
in the East are capable men. But he was furious
TEE LAND'S END OF SIBERIA. 205
against the whole tribe. He gave me what he called
an instance of how the British Consul is "too big
for his job." He went into a consulate recently and
asked :
" Could you, please, give me a list of all the
merchants in this town who are in such-and-such
a line?"
" Who are you ? " asked the Consul.
" Well, I'm travelling to push this particular line
in the East."
" Look here," said the Consul, " you musn't think
I'm here as a sort of directory to help men who have
got something to sell."
" Then what are you here for ? " asked the
traveller.
" Your manner is rather rude," said the Consul.
" Please tell me what you are here for, if it is not
to help the British firms who want to develop trade,
and I will apologise," said the traveller.
"You quite misunderstand a Consul's duties,"
replied Great Britain's representative.
" Now," continued this -wrathful Englishman to
me, " I went straight to the German Consulate and
asked as politely as I could if he had a list of firms
who dealt in so-and-so. Of course he had; he told
me all about the local prices and who would be Hkely
to do business with me. And all this very kindly to
a Britisher, not a Dutchman, whereas that " then
came a purple- worded description of the Consul.
The first idea I got of Vladivostok remained
during my stay. It is a busy and lively town. It
hugs the side of billowy hills and at the same time
clings to the harbour side. This harbour is made by
206 THE BEAL SIBERIA.
nature, not large but deep, absolutely shut off from
the Pacific and guarded by a row of fortress teeth.
Once or twice I went roaming with my camera, but
everywhere on the hills around I was checked with a
notice to keep off forbidden ground. All the hills
overlooldng the channel way from the ocean to the
harbour — where all the navies of the world could be
smuggled away and nobody find them by searching
the coast line — seem burrowed with forts. Every
day one or more of the eight warships in harboar
went out and did target practice. I climbed a mound
behind the town, about as high as Arthur's Seat at
Edinburgh, and obtained a fine view of the town and
harbour. The Kussians are very proud of the way
they have guarded Vladivostok against attack. Yet
friendship to other navies is always outstretched. A
couple of Italian men-of-war ships came in during
my visit, and there was firing of salutes, dinner
parties and junketings, whilst the Russian and Italian
sailors fraternised and drove about in droshkies,
generally five in a droshki that can really carry two :
and the Russian sailor was affectionate to his visitor,
put his arm round his neck, and kissed him.
Only two foreign battleships are allowed in
Vladivostok harbour at once. This is a regula-
tion the British squadron on the Chinese station is
responsible for. A few years ago, when one of the
many fogs was hanging over the harbour, some ten
British warships came in quietly, dropped anchor in
position facing the town, and made all the Russians
gasp the next morning when the fog lifted, They
did more than gasp ; they were furious. Hence the
regulation.
v^
OVERLOOKING VLADIVOSTOK.
THE MAIN STREET IN VLADIVOSTOK.
(Tl-if ,\ew Post Office is on the <ight )
TEE LAND'S BNB OF 8IBBB1A. 207
You cannot exhaust the sights of Vladivostok in
an afternoon as you can most Siberian towns. There
is much to be seen. Most attractive to me were the
street scenes, the officials, military and naval, the
business men really moving and not dawdling the
day away, which most Russians do, to the tantalisa-
tion of all brisk Westerners ; the gangs of Chinese
labourers, who work from sundown to sundown, and
are always happy; the perky little Japanese, aping
European costume, whilst their womenkind keep to
their winsome Nipponese garb, and go clattering
about on wooden shoes; and the Koreans, all in
white and with features so soft that you mistake
them for women : a polyglot crowd indeed, all helping
to make the town prosperous.
No man can come through Siberia to such a place
as Vladivostok and give a thought to what Russia
has done in the generation without being amazed.
We may criticise Russian manners and growl at
Russian diplomacy, and wonder how people can live
under an autocratic government 1 But Russia has
laid hold on the East.
I went a walk one evening in the public gardens.
There was a statue fronting the Pacific to General
Nevelskof, who laboured long and successfully for
Russian dominion. On the plinth are inscribed his
own words : " When a Russian flag is once hoisted it
must never be lowered ! "
208
CHAPTER XVIII.
A PLUNGE INTO THE FORBIDDEN LAND OF MANCHURIA.
It was at Vladivostok, after I had traversed the
entire length of the trans-Asian Railway, that a
particular idea began to ferment in my mind.
Crossing the mountains east of Baikal many of
my companions had been oflficers, with green facings
upon their uniforms. The green braid indicated they
belonged to that part of the Russian army which
guards the frontiers of the Czar's dominions. And
one night while I was asleep, they disappeared at a
station in the hills, called Katiska Rasiez. They had
gone to Manchuria, which, for the peace of the
world, has come under " temporary occupation " by
Russian forces.
At Vladivostok I heard much about what Russia
was doing in Manchuria, how 150,000 Cossack troops
were in possession, carrying dread punishment to any
bands of Chinese that resented the invasion, and
how, under the name of the Eastern Chinese Railway,
ostensibly Chinese, with a Chinese chairman of the
board of directors, and the money largely provided
by the Russo-Chinese Bank — though every penny
comes out of the Russian exchequer, and nobody has
a voice in the route, or the building, or the control,
but Russians — the Muscovites were rapidly laying a
line across Manchuria to Port Arthur and Vladi-
vostok, with a junction at Harbin, so that, in case of
war, military legions could be hastened to Pekin.
HOW I WENT ACROSS MANCHURIA.
A STATION IN MANCHURIA.
IRussi, ai Workmen saluting a Gni-k Orthodox PrlvA )
TEE FORBIDDEN LAND OF MANGUUBIA. 209
I heard stories of how the Russian cities were
springing up in a way that outstripped the mushrocni
growth of " boom towns " in Western America, how
money was being made, and, above all, how night and
day hundreds of thousands of men were working on
the railway, and laying it at the phenomenal speed of
three miles a day.
It is the policy of Russia to keep everything dark
about what she is doing with her " temporary occupa-
tion " of Manchuria. She publishes nothing about
the number of troops or how they are engaged,
nothing about the Russian settlements, nothing about
the railway. A strict watch is maintained that no
prying foreigners should see what is being done. An
English colonel, after serving in Pekin, proposed to
return to England by way of Manchuria and
Siberia. He got into Manchuria, but at Mukden was
arrested in the politest manner, detained for a fort-
night, and then, because it would be so dangerous for
him to travel through a country so unsettled, he was,
again very poUtely, though to his own chagrin, con-
ducted to the frontier, and invited to return to his
native land some other way. A brilliant war corre-
spondent made a dash for it, got as far as Harbin, and
was then turned back. I heard of other correspondents
who had applied to the authorities for permission to
cross Manchuria, and in every case were refused.
My journey across Siberia, from Moscow to
Vladivostok, had lacked incident. And as a love
of adventure first suggested a trip to Siberia, and
as I had been disappointed in this, the thought of a
plunge into the forbidden land of Manchuria laid
hold on me.
210 THE HEAL SIBERIA.
I knew that if I sought official permission I
would be refused. I decided not to ask but just
start off and take chances.
At the last moment, just as an indication where
I had gone, should anything untoward happen to
me, I confided my intention to one or two English-
men and Americans in Vladivostok. They smiled.
" Well, goodbye," they said, " and good luck ;
but you will be back here under arrest within a
week."
On Thursday morning, October 10th, I went to
the Vladivostok station, ostensibly to return to
Khabarovsk and thence make my way up the
waters of the Amur and the Shilka to Streitinsk,
where I would strike the Siberian line. But I was
equipped for another route.
I was dressed like a Russian. I wore a curly
woollen Astrakhan hat, a great sheepskin coat, no
cloth but the skin outside and the inside soft and
warm — comfortable, though heavy, and giving off a
stench like a tanyard — and I donned a pair of long-
legged Eussian boots. Further, I had a hamper
packed with tinned provisions, meats, fish, jams,
tea and sugar, for whUe I expected to get hot water
and bread on the way, I had my doubts about any-
thing else.
In the Khabarovsk train I travelled about eighty
versts to the military town of Nokolsk, which
bristled with soldiers.
It was with just a tinge of regret and foreboding
I then saw my train slowly puff away northwards,
leaving me to my own devices.
It was a dull, chill afternoon, with the wind
THE FORBIDDEN LAND OF MANOHUBIA. 211
sighing drearily over the sandy wastes and making
the air brown and thick with dust.
There would be no difficulty, 1 knew, about
getting as far as Grodikoff, a Cossack town founded
last year on the branch line that turns off to Man-
churia and Port Arthur. So I bought my ticket,
and rejoiced in the information I would not get
there till dark.
We trundled through low-ljdng land, all dun
and dismal, for though there was no snow, winter
had stricken the land and it lay dead and bare.
The sky was low and grey, suggesting a snowstorm,
and the gale whistled about the crawling train as a
storm sings in the rigging of a ship.
There were not many passengers. My few
companions were officials — military men or engineers,
or men having to do with the telegraphs.
I got into conversation with a chubby young
Cossack officer who was proceeding to Mukden for
two years' service, and did not seem to enjoy the
prospect. In the dusk I pulled out my pipe-case
intending to smoke.
" Ah ! " he said, " I've got one of those," and he
whipped out a loaded revolver from his hip pocket.
He laughed when I showed him only a pipe.
" But what revolver are you carrying ? " he asked,
" a Colt or a Smith-Wesson ? "
I told him I was a sufficiently experienced
traveller not to carry a revolver at all. Thereupon
he gave a not very appetising account of the things
likely to happen to a man foolish enough to go into
Manchuria without a revolver — about train thieves
and marauding bands of Chinese. Ho knew, of
212 TEB REAL SIBERIA.
course, I was a Britisher, but never once did he
inquire if I had permission to cross Manchuria.
Kain was falling pitifully through pitch darkness
when we reached Grodikoff. I saw nothing of the
town.
The station was just a barn place, with two
wheezy oil lamps blinking in the wind. I got hold
of two jaundiced Chinamen to carry my baggage
and dump it down at an outhouse that served as a
restaurant. Here a Tartar provided a supper of
shashliJc — ^bits of skewered mutton cooked over the
ashes of a wood fire — a tender and juicy dish.
At ten o'clock came a scramble to the train, for
we heard the snort of an engine that came along
with goods waggon and open platforms and one
third-class carriage.
This train would go on to Pogranitsa, the frontier
station over the Manchurian border and twelve miles
away. There were no tickets to be bought. It was
just a train for the military, and if a civilian travelled
by it he was supposed to have received military
permission.
Those Russians who were not warriors made for
the goods waggons, into which the ordinary soldiers
climbed. The officers climbed into the third-class
carriage.
I knew that if I went into the goods waggons
suspicion would be aroused. So I just joined the
officers and made friends at once. They offered their
cigarettes and tea, and were laughingly indulgent
over my execrable Russian. Instead of resenting my
presence, they were delighted, and two of them
insisted on using their baggage as seats, so that I
TRE FORBIDDEN LAND OF MA^OHUBIA. 213
might have one of the benches to Ue on if I desired
sleep.
However, I was in no mood for sleep. I had still
to pass the frontier, and it was possible I might there
be checked.
It took the train two hours covering the twelve
uiiles between Grodikoff and Pogranitsa, over badly
laid metals, dipping and rolling not unlike a ship in a
troubled sea, and now and then giving a lurch with a
thud as though she had been hit by a monstrous wave.
It was midnight, and rain was falling, when a few
jerking lights and the groaning of the train to a
standstill proclaimed we were at Pogranitsa and in
Manchuria.
So far so good. We all tumbled out upon a
soaked bank, slippery with slush. There were folks
already waiting for the goods train that would be
going on to Harbin and Port Arthur, including women
and children, and all rather like bundles of clothes
squatting in the darkness.
It was bitterly cold. Some of the soldiers got
wood, however, and soon there were fires blazing.
The anxiety about being stopped soon passed from
my mind. The only thing I was anxious about was
for the coming of the train that would let us get out
of the cold and wet.
It appeared a waiting of many hours, though it
was just half-past one when, like a glaring -eyed
dragon, a train appeared from I don't know where.
There was one third-class carriage again, and the
women and children got into that. There were three
covered vans with sliding doors, a great deal less
comfortable than any goods car in England. But
-214 TEE REAL SIBERIA.
they afforded shelter, and there was a wild fight in
the darkness to get inside, because they were high
perched, and there were no steps, and it required an
acrobat to twist to mount.
Cumbered as I was with baggage, I was among
the vanquished. But there was plenty of room on
the platforms used for carrying rails and sleepers,
although it was not cheerful being obliged to spend
a night there. Anyway, I found myself among some
rails and rolls of telegraph wire.
Rain had ceased ; but as the boards were damp I
spread my mackintosh on the floor, put my felt-lined
goloshes over my boots, charged my pipe, wrapped
myself in my sheepskins, and, with a coil of telegraph
wire as a pillow, settled down to be comfortable.
At the other end of the platform I noticed a
heaving mass. Presently two men emerged, and
crawling to me, asked if there would be much trouble
with the ofiScials, because neither of them had passes
to enter Manchuria.
I was obliged to laugh at finding others travelling
under much the same condition as myself, save that
they were Russians and I was a foreigner.
Indeed, to my amusement, later on, although at
times there must have been a hundred and fifty
passengers, including Chinese coolies and moudjiks,
not half a dozen in the whole crowd had formal
authority.
These goods trains were moving up and down
the line irregularly, working to no time-table, really
carrying no passengers, for no fares were demanded,
yet free to anybody who cared to take rough luck,
and who were not particular to a week or ten days.
THE FORBIDDEN LAND OF MANOHUBIA. 215
It was a means of progress that suited me
admirably. If successful in getting through the
country, I would be able to form a very good idea
about that " temporary occupation " of which we have
heard so much.
One of my companions was an elderly, grizzle-
bearded man, a better class trader, who wanted to
see if he could open a store at Harbin, or Hingan, or
at Hilar, the three towns in close touch with the
railway. The other was an excitable little Jew from
Moscow, travelling with cheap jewellery, and the
possessor of a revolver, which he was always taking
out and unloading and loading, and carrying first in
this pocket and then in that, and once dropping it, so
that, high-handedly, I threatened that if he didn't
put the thing away and keep it away I would pitch
it as far as my arm would throw.
In the midst of our talk a braided official with a
lantern came along, and chmbed upon the platform.
I was huddled and apparently asleep when he flashed
the light on me and wanted to see my permit.
I blinked and yawned " Nitchevo," at the same
time sticking a couple of roubles into his hand, and
then burying myself in my wraps drowsily.
That was the end of it. He went away, and I
supposed generally gathered roubles from everybody
without a pass.
So at last I was fairly embarked on my adventure.
As the train slowly jerked its uneven way through
the black night, and I lay looking at the stars, I was
happier than I had been for a long time. The train
surged among scant plantations, nothing but thin
bare poles.
21G THIS UHAL SIBERIA.
Now and then, however, blazed a log fire, and
tired workers were lying round or squatting and
drinking tea and chatting.
Maybe for a couple of hours I slept, but woke in
the raw dawn shivering with the cold. Heavy rime
lay on everything.
The train had come to a standstill at a siding.
There were tents about, and Cossacks with sheepskin
hats hanging shaggily over their eyes, giving them a
sinister look, were moving up and down, heavily
cloaked and with guns slung across their shoulders.
A Cossack was boiling his kettle over a log fire,
and I followed the example of half a dozen other
travellers by getting out my kettle, jumping from the
train — how one's limbs ache after a night's exposure
— and boiling water for the ever-good Eussian tea. I
asked a soldier if he could sell me some bread. No ;
he had none. But an officer standing by said he
could let me have some. He sawed me off about two
pounds from a ten-pound loaf. I asked him what
I should pay, but he laughed at the question.
Then, hunting out a tin of sardines and asking
him to join me in eating them, I sat on a log and
had a frugal but hearty breakfast, just as the young
day was peeping over the land.
All day we jogged along fitfully, never travelling
faster than five or six miles an hour, and halting
often and long. The track was hke a couple of lines
drawn by a palsied hand. There was little or no
banking up. As far as possible the ordinary earth
surface was used. The metals, however, were heavy,
of the same weight as those general in England, and
much stronger than anywhere on the trans-Siberian
TSE FORBIDDEN LAND OF MANGHUBIA. 217
stretch. There was evidence that this line had been
thrown down with haste. It was nothing more than
a makeshift line.
What, however, was not a makeshift line was the
permanent way in course of construction, either on
one side or the other.
Here were thousands of Chinamen at work.
Proper levellings were being made, banks buUt up,
cuttings delved, everything indicating that the ncAv
line will be for heavy traffic.
The Chinamen swarmed the banks like ants,
though with a less show of industry. They were all
going about their work in a slow, leisurely way. So
the joke of the Russians was to shout, " Hello,
tortoises ! " whenever a daT^dling group was passed.
The Chinese used silly little shovels with big,
thick shafts, and aU the earth, whether to bank up or
to clear a cutting, was carried in baskets certainly not
holding more than six pounds' weight of soil.
Along the way were sleepers and piles of rails,
telegraph poles, coils of telegraph wire, and a hundred
things necessary in railway building, but all lying
about apparently in utmost confusion. Heavy engines
were snorting over the new line in places — all American,
buUt by Baldwin of Philadelphia — and in one place,
where the bank had slipped under the weight, and on
its side, among a mass of wrecked trucks, was one of
these fine machines.
Though very cold the day was bright, and, as
there was plenty to see, the ride was by no means un-
enjoyable. All along the route were Cossack guards.
In places the railway workers were not Chinese
but Manchus, and in other places groups of gentle-
218 THE REAL SIBERIA.
featured, white-garbed Koreans were labouring with
Kussian overseers.
We began to climb great sweeps of upland covered
with rusthng, bleached grass until our altitude was
1,915 feet. There was Uttle to indicate that we had
gone up a mountain. The descent on the other side,
however, was sharp and quick. In about four years'
time a tunnel, being made by a firm of Hungarian
contractors, will be completed, and then there wiU not
be the long curves to the top nor the sudden zigzags
to the bottom. They were real zigzags. A Baldwin
engine was fastened to the back of the train, and held
the trucks in check while the leading engine slid
down the mountain side until she ran into a cul-de-
sac, and there stopped. Then the engine that had
been in the rear went first on the other track. So
the train zigzagged down the mountain. From its
height the view was impressive. The valley below
lay in black shadow. But the eye could range over
the knuckles of neighbouring hills, flushed with sun-
shine, to mountains in the far distance that reared
like masses of purple haze.
We halted at decrepit, dirty villages, half Manchu,
half Eussian, with everything opposite to the pictur-
esque about them, many of the houses sloping from
top to ground, all roof as it were. Any cooking was
done outside. At each station was flying a Chinese
flag of yeUow, showing the contorted, spiteful dragon.
But one corner of the yellow was cut away, and there
was inserted the red, blue, and white of Russia.
That afternoon we pulled up near three shanties
on a woodside, and a gang of Chinese — all squabbling
and making noises like dogs growling over bones —
THE FORBIDDEN LAND OF MANORUBIA. 219
fought with one another to get on a platform, where
a boiler, made by a New York firm, was chained.
There was a scuffle. One Chinese was pushed back-
wards and fell. His head hit the metals and cracked
like a nut. He gave a wriggle and died. The
Russians who saw the accident were affected. The
Chinese laughed. He lay for an hour in the sun
until I undid his sleeping rug and spread it over his
face.
He was soon forgotten. A Chinese threw some hot
water over a growling dog and made it howl. At this
there were shrieks of mirth. The engine puffed and
groaned and jerked the waggons into progress. The
last I saw of this spot was two Chinamen pitching
mud at the same dog to keep it from sniffing at the
body of the dead.
220
CHAPTER XIX.
A MANCHUEIAN "BOOM" TOWN.
Iron rails do not make the best bedding, and a coil of
telegraph wire is not to be recommended as a pillow.
Further, sleeping in the open on the top of a railway
truck is more uncomfortable than adventurous.
So, when rain threatened on the second afternoon
out of Vladivostok, I made ardent friendship with a
Cossack officer. He discovered that in the goods van
in which he was travelling with brother soldiers room
might be found for a wandering Britisher.
It was a dingy place, half filled with boxes of iron
bolts and bags of American flour, but almost luxurious
compared with an open platform. Everybody was
unshaven and rather grimy.
We were eight in that van, cramped and huddled.
Yet from the pleasantries that prevailed you might
have thought we were on a picnic instead of going
through a disturbed country and open to attack at
any hour. Provisions were shared in common —
bread, tea, turned meats, cigarettes. There was
sparsity of knives, forks, plates, and cups. But no
time was wasted in having these articles washed. A
wipe with a bit of newspaper was all they got.
The whole country-side swarmed with pheasants.
A Chinese boy coming along with a bunch swung at
either end of a pole, somebody bought ten for a
rouble (two shiUings), and soon the soldiers had them
plucked, cleansed, and in a stewpot.
A MANOEVRIAN "BOOM" TOWN. 221
For five hours we were at a standstill. The sky
was low and sullen, and as soon as night set in down
went the thermometer. For exercise I took a few
sharp turns the length of the train, and felt sorry for
the poor moujiks and Chinese closely crouching on
the platforms to get the warmth of one another's
bodies.
The Cossack soldiers do not mind the cold. They
had large felt cloaks swathing them, and big bundles
of hay to lie upon. Much of their time was spent in
singing — and who that has heard a Slav song, croon-
ing, pathetic, weird, sung by a Cossack at night in the
middle of a plain silent as death, can forget it?
From the chinks in the doorways of the covered vans
came rapier thrusts of light and the low mumble of
talk. When the night was at its blackest rain fell,
and the drops rattled on the vans like shot.
Once more we went on, jerking and jolting, and
often we lurched and banged as though we had rim
into a wall
Suddenly there was a shaking and a clatter. We
were almost knocked to pieces. Then quietness.
Our van had jumped the rails. I was the only one
who seemed surprised. Everyone else took it as a
matter of course, turned over, and went to sleep again.
There was a good deal of shouting and lamp-flashing,
but in an hour the van was back in its place. Once
more we went on.
Just at dawn, as we were running past a siding, the
points did not work. This time it was the engine
that jumped the rails. Again, nobody minded. We
might be stopped a couple of hours or a couple of
days.
222 THE REAL SIBERIA.
Bub Nitchevo — most blessed of Kussian words in
the hour of possible vexation !
Indeed, there was a general evidence of gladness.
So long as the train was moving there was no
opportunity of a fire, and hot water and tea. A
breakdown, however, meant great fires, with people
roaming round for wood and water, and consequent
tea drinking by the gallon. This break turned
everybody out : Russian officials, officers, soldiers, en-
gineers, telegraph workers, traders, moudjiks, Chinese,
Manchus, Koreans, and one British journalist.
It was like a camp. There was the roasting of
fowls, boiling of rice, frying of fish.
A way back from the line was a Cossack post, a
long, low-roofed, white-washed house, Hke a Scotch
clay biggin', with a rude stockade, and the hardy Httle
ponies tethered at long wooden troughs in the open.
On one side was a high scaffold-like tower, and on the
top was a Cossack on duty, letting his eye roam over
the country on the watch for the coming of the
Hung-hos, marauding bands of Manchus, who raid
native vUlages and Russian settlements indiscrim-
inately.
Along the whole stretch of the railway across
Manchuria are Cossack posts, planted, as it were, in
the midst of a wilderness.
They are not Hyde Park-looking warriors, these
Cossacks. They are semi-savages, black-eyed, fierce-
browed, the finest horsemen in the world, caring little
for your life, little for their own, absolutely fearless, of
the dashing, reckless, break-neck sort of bravery, ever
impetuous. For a charge there are no troops that
could equal them. But Russian officers told me that
A MANGHUIIIAN "BOOM" TOWN. 223
for modern operations they are not much good, that
they have not the patience to seek the shelter of
sand banks, nor make strategic moves, nor remain
quiet for hours in the hollow of a hill ready for a
particular mancBuvre at a particular moment.
The Cossack soldier, in return for the land the
government gives him, provides his own horse and
equipment. A Cossack, therefore, with all the in-
dependence of his wild race, thinks himself more than
the equal of a Russian officer. There is no servility
about him. It is difficult to make him obey orders.
When there is fighting he must get amongst it at once
with his bare sword.
From Russia's point of view these Cossacks are the
best possible guards to place along the Manchurian
line.
First and foremost, the object of that hne is to
carry troops to the shores of the Pacific, and the
phenomenal haste with which the building of it was
being pushed on was — as I gathered from many
Russian sources — a fear that Japan intended to
precipitate a conflict for the possession of Korea.
From this very line between Grodikoff and Harbin,
a branch is made to the Korean frontier. Its purpose
is obvious.
Russia wants no mishaps to the Manchurian
railway in time of war. So it runs through a more
or less desolate region, north-west, over the Hingan
mountains, across a corner of the Mongolian desert,
until it joins the Siberian line at Katiska Rasiez,
near Chita, in trans-Baikalia.
All the towns on the route are new and Russian.
Where there are Chinese towns they are contiguous
224 TEE REAL SIBERIA.
to the Russian towns, which are also military
centres. For twenty miles on each side the line the
Chinese and Manchus have been driven back. I
heard gruesome stories of what has taken place
when there has been any show of resistance — the
men slaughtered, the women violated, and then their
throats cut.
There were some hundreds of thousands of
Chinese coolies engaged on the railway, and near
Harbin, and Hingan, and Hilar were also Chinese
settlements. But I did not see any Chinese women.
They had all been sent away for fear of the
Cossacks.
Naturally I saw much of the Cossacks. Their
attire, the sheepskin hats struggling over their eyes,
made them forbidding. But it did not take long to
find a good deal of bluff animal kindness about
them. They were rough and rude; they knew
nothing of town life; their tastes were simple and
very primitive. They made fires for us, lent us their
pans, and gave us bread, and none of us dared insult
them by offering money in payment.
A couple of Cossack patrols came along, swung
themselves from the saddles, and throwing their
carbines aside, lay on the ground by the fire, and
were served with cups of hot tea by their own mates.
It was a damp, moansome day. The Cossacks
on the train got a piece of canvas sheeting, and
rigged themselves a tent on their open truck.
But in the dark the wind came shrieking and
snapped the cords. We heard the engine snort and
shriek. It was a sign all was well again. So we
curled up and went to sleep, while all night the
1 CARRYING THE HEAD OF A CHINESE ROBBER
2. A DECAPITATED CHINAMAN.
J. THE CHINESE EXECUTIONER.
-I, DRAGGING DECAPITATED CHINESE TO BURIAL.
A MANOEUBIAN "BOOM" TOWN. 225
train cumbrously jogged on. We were running
through scant forest.
There were no leaves, and the trees were skeleton,
save when there was a brush of fir.
We stopped and we jerked, and then stopped
again. It was dreary. The mists hung round the
trees and blanketed the landscape from view. It
was impossible to wander more than fifty yards
away, for that would have provoked fate to send the
train on without you.
First we stopped seventeen hours ; then we
crawled for two hours ; next we stopped for five
hours. That makes twenty-four hours, and tells
how we spent Sunday, October 13th. We probably
travelled ten miles.
On the Sunday we pulled up at a struggling
hamlet of new houses.
" What is the name of this place ? " I asked.
" It has not got a name yet," I got as a reply.
Besides Russians there were many Chinamen
about. The policeman, porcine and pompous, with
a wUlow-plate kind of design on his chest and back,
and carrying a red-painted stick, was a Chinaman.
He looked important. But standing near were grey-
cloaked Cossacks with fixed bayonets.
Next we ran through a plain of sodden wilder-
ness. It began to snow, followed by sleet and snow
again.
Thus we reached the town of Harbin; not to be
found on most maps except under the name of
Hulan. It is a great jimction. It came into
prominence in 1900 because the Boxers destroyed
the line here, and besieged the town for several
p
226 THE REAL SIBERIA.
weeks. The station itself is a paltry place, but there
are eight tracks of rails. Huge stacks of stores for
troops are guarded by soldiers.
Seven years ago there was not a single Russian
in Harbin. Now there are nearly nine thousand.
Old Harbin, or Hulan, where the Chinese live, is a
distance away, and there are some ten thousand
Celestials, a weak and puhng lot of men.
But New Harbin, where the Russians are, is for all
the world like a "boom" American town. It has
sprung into existence in a few years. Big stores and
hotels are being pushed up, and everywhere building
is to be seen. Fortunes are made by men who have
got patches of land centrally situated.
Theoretically this is Chinese territory, and there-
fore goods coming in from the sea at Dalny — Talienwan
on our English maps — pay no duty.
But you do not -buy them cheaper at Harbin
because of that. Indeed, everything costs about
double what it does at Vladivostok. Two hundred
per cent, is the profit a trader must make, or he thinks
he is doing bad business.
Harbin is now the principal town in Manchuria.
It is a magnet to aU the adventurers in Russia.
There are two or three murders every week. Respect-
able folks who go out at night do so in bands, the
men armed, and with a Cossack guard.
Russian officers, and the army of engineers engaged
on the railway — they are all excellently paid to
stimulate them to hurry the line to completion —
make for Harbin when they get a few days' leave. A
Russian's idea of good-fellowship, when in his cups,
is to squander, to pour champagne on the floor, just
COSSACKS AND A CHINESE CART,
;^4<ik.
i
A COSSACK GUARD STATION AND WATCH TOWER.
A MANOEUniAN "BOOM" TOWN. 227
to show he doesn't mind expense, to Ught his cigarette
with a three-rouble note, and generally splash money
round.
There is a caf6 chantant at Harbin, which has the
laxity of ca// chantants in other parts of the world.
The night before I was at Harbin, an engineer arrived,
his pockets bulging with roubles, and he showed his
idea of money by making all the girls sit in a row
while he poured champagne on hundred-rouble notes,
and then stuck these notes (£10) on the foreheads
of each of the eight girls. That is the Harbin idea of
having a good time.
Now, though Harbin is in the " temporary occu-
pation " of Eussia, the Chinese have the administration
of the country round. Chinese robbers, the Hung-
hos for instance, are tried by Chinese authority, and
the beheading that takes place is by Chinese law, and
not by Kussians. All these robbers when caught are
executed. They are made maudlin drunk on samshu,
and are then puUed to their knees by a tug at the
queue, and a swish of a sword takes off the head.
These heads are stuck on poles, and planted on
the wayside as a warning to evil-doers. I saAv
several.
Harbin and the country round provided the
strongest possible evidence that, whatever diplomatic
language may be used, Russia is in possession of
Manchuria^ and intends to stay. It is a very largo
plum drawn out of the Chinese pie
Roughly, Manchuria has a population of some
seventeen millions, comprises about one- tenth of!
China's entire area, is six times as large as England
and Wales, and possesses a climate resembling that
228 TSE REAL SIBERIA.
of Canada ; its mountains are said to ooze gold, and
its harbour. Port Arthur, is splendid, free from ice all
the year round.
Though the railway does not run through a fertile
reg>\)n, the land is full of possibilities. And there is
this thing to be said in favour of the Russian occu-
pation: before the Russians came it was little more
than a sterile waste ; now money is being poured into
the country, and another ten years will probably
reveal wonders.
It is not, of course, so wealthy as the great western
Chinese province of Sztcheum, contiguous to our
Indian territory, and which the French are doing
their best to slice off for themselves by running a
railway to it from Tonquin, by way of Yunnan, but
gold mines have already been worked, though only in
a primitive way. Petroleum, copper, and tin have
been found. Coal beds lie close to iron beds, and that
means much. AH that is wanted is machinery and
enterprise.
Remember it is only five years since (1897) that a
party of Cossack military surveyors, accompanied by
Russian engineers, made a journey across Manchuria
to spy the land for a railway. There were a couple of
chains of mountains to be crossed, and on the plains
the soil was unstable. The report of these surveyors
was unfevourable. But pohtical reasons pressed the
importance. In 1898 the Czar said, "Let the line be
laid!"
And there it is, 1,200 miles long, from Nikolsk to
Katiska Rasiez, and 890 miles of it through Chinese
territory. It is the seal to Russia's power in the
Far East.
A MANOHUBIAN "BOOM" TOWN. 229
Nominally China conceded the right to build this
railway to an anonymous company. Everybody,
except people who frequent Downing Street, knows
the line belongs to the Eussian government. Share-
holders must be either Russians or Chinese. But
bonds can only be issued with the consent of Mr. De
Witte, the Russian Minister of Finance. The president
of the Eastern Chinese Company, as it is called, is a
Chinaman. Mr. De Witte, however, appointed the
vice-president, all the engineers and officials, and gives
sanction to any improvements or modifications.
Colloquially the Chinese president is in Mr. De
Witte's pocket.
I spent part of my afternoon at Harbin shopping,
buying another sheepskin, a big German sausage as
hard as wood, and half a dozen tins of Singapore
pineapples, exported by some patriotic Britisher, for
they were of the " Jubilee Brand," had a picture of
Queen Victoria, decorations of Royal Standards and
Union Jacks, and displayed views of soldiers and
battleships.
But nobody seemed to know when a train was to
go northwards to Hingan and Hilar.
It would be easy enough to get down to Mukden
and Port Arthur, and it took me an hour to make it
clear I did not want to go either to Mukden or Port
Arthur. Then I was informed that three miles away,
on the other side of the river Sungari, it was possible
I might find some goods waggons going north to-day,
to-morrow, or next week. That was what I wanted.
It took me hours, however, to extract the simple
fact that there was a bridge over the Sungari, and
trains on the other side.
230 TEE REAL SIBERIA.
The station-master provided a trolley, and I piled
my belongings on it. This was pushed along by four
Kussian workmen. Then I borrowed a couple of
Cossack soldiers to act as guard, and I set off to
walk.
The sleety tempest of the day had waned, and the
late afternoon, with a watery simlight playing over
the coxmtry, was not without beauty. The railway
bank was strong and well built ; it had a double
track, and led to a great eight-span iron bridge over
the Sungari. This bridge had only been finished four
days, and no train had yet passed over it. It was
protected by Cossacks, but a word by my guard
opened a way. So I walked over.
The Sungari here is about twice the width of the
Thames at London Bridge, and as I was high perched
I could see the waters of this mighty stream for far,
flowing northwards until they join the mighty stream
of the Amur. On one bank was the native town, a
long, bedraggled street with the Chinese slithering in
the mire. On the river were hundreds of pug-nosed,
hump-backed Chinese junks with long venetian-blind
kind of sails, dropping down stream, the men singing
as they dipped the large oars, while in and out among
them dodged noisy and perky little Russian govern-
ment steam launches. The clouds broke, and a flush
of crimson spread along the distant hills.
It was dark evening when I reached the station, a
white-washed hut with a dirty oil lamp by the door.
The station-master was friendly. As far as he knew
a train would be going on some time in the night.
So with a lantern we went exploring and foimd an
empty goods car. That was excellent.
A MANOEUBIAN "BOOM" TOWN. 231
Then, wrapping myself in my sheepskins and
making a rough pilloAv, I lay down in a corner
with a candle stuck in a bottle as light, smoked my
pipe, fell asleep, and when I awoke in the darkness I
was delighted to feel the jolting motion of making
progress.
232
CHAPTER XX.
SUSPECTED AND ARRESTED.
For a whole day, Tuesday, October 15th, the goods
train in -which I journeyed trundled the Sungari
plain, called the eastern Gobi desert.
The eye ranged across a sea of dun-coloured, rank
grass. A bleak wind whistled mournfully.
The only excitement was when the train got off
the line, which it did thrice in the day. Then as my
waggon was cold and my Umbs ached, I was able to
get out and run to stimulate warmth. I never saw a
■village, though there were plenty of Cossack guard
stations.
My quarters in the van were wretched, but they
were better than those of the other passengers — may-
be twenty, excluding Chinese coolies — for they were
in open trucks, and looked blue with cold. A big,
black-bearded Russian, and the Httle Jew I met near
the frontier, came and asked permission to travel with
me. As far as I had any authority they were
welcome enough, and they showed their gratitude by
boUing water for me whenever I showed a disposition
towards tea-drinking. I would not Uke to hazard a
guess how much tea I did drink. It had the merit of
providing warmth.
There was a closed waggon under the guard of
eight Cossacks. Two young fellows jumped out at
one of our many halts, and we got into conversation
round a wood fire. They were Russians, but one of
SUSPECTED AND ARRESTED. 233
tliem spoke English like a Britisher. He had lived
for some years at Shanghai. He and his companion
■were in the employ of the Russo-Chinese Bank, and
were taking along something approaching a million
roubles to open a branch of the bank at Hilar, in
Mongolia.
The line was too unsteady for night travelling,
and so the train pulled up at dusk, and remained
stationary till morning.
I was out in the open before daylight to watch
the break of day, just a leaden streak, then a gleam
of silYcr, then a crimson flush, and then the sun,
like a great pear, cUmbing over the edge of the
world. Fires had been blazing all night, with
Cossacks lying around, or sitting chatting, or making
ready the eternal tea.
Once more we went on, and by nine o'clock we
were at the station of Tsitsikar, a flourishing Chinese
city, but twenty-five versts from the railway. So
I saw nothing of it. We had a long wait, for what
nobody knew, except that when my Russian banking
friend and I went into a little inn where we might
get some soup, we found the engine driver very
drunk, and stiU drinking. In the afternoon he was
j willing to take the train on, and though the driving
was reckless and we were banged till we were sore,
the fates were kind and we did not leave the metals.
What I saw that evening will long remain in
memory.
We were beyond sleet and rain, and sundown
came over the land majestically. Far off was
a prairie fire, and the last rays of the sun,
catching the volumed smoke, illuminated it like a
234 THE REAL SIBERIA.
purple mantle, while the dreary, drab grass was
burnished into old gold. The ground was marshy
with a hundred lakes dotted with islands, and broken
by peninsulas, and millions of wild fowl cluttered
over the water and screeched at our coming. So
night fell.
Suddenly, straight ahead, as though the palace
of a genii had been lit up, there blazed a hundred
lights. Electric lamps !
Yes, electric lamps, so that the Russians might
see for [the building of their great iron bridge over
the Nuni river, which is really the parent of the
Sungari. The train came to a standstill under the
glare of those lamps alongside other tracks laden
with waggons and cars. Russian oflficials were moving
about with lanterns, and growing hoarse yelling
orders to hordes of Chinese coolies.
The electric light gives a blue, pale, eerie look
to the human countenance in the streets of an
English town ; but here, away in middle Manchuria,
the light pouring down on heavily clad and top-
booted Russians, and wild-featured, sheepskin-hatted
Cossacks, and the lean, shining-faced Chinese all
screaming, and with glint of the electric light flashing
to you from their sHt eyes — well, it was a curious
scene !
Great wooden sheds reared at intervals across the
river. These were built about the foundations,
already laid, and the clang of iron smote the ear.
For there are two thousand Russians and five
thousand Chinese working night and day, seven days
and seven nights in the week, pressing on with the
building of that bridge.
SUSFEOTED AND ARRESTED. 235
When I looked upon that spectacle of iron shafts
being reared, heard the snort of steam cranes swing-
ing girders into place, and beheld how everybody
seemed animated with an almost demoniac haste, I
understood what the Russians can do when they are
reaUy determined.
Alongside this rearing structure was a creaking
temporary wooden bridge laid with metals. No
engine dare attempt to cross it, but it can bear two
or three waggons at a time. The waggons of our train
were uncoupled. Some fifty or sixty Chinese sur-
rounded them and started to push and sing.
The singing was a low, melodious monotone,
such as I have heard from the Yang-tze boatmen in
Western China. One man had the solO; and the rest
was a rich chorus. When the waggons yielded to the
pushing and ran easily, the singing became more
catchy, sprightly, and the chorus was a series of
short gleeful barks at every step taken.
I stood on an open platform while we went across
the huge, clanging bridgework on the left, with great
electric eyes looking down on us, and half lighting the
sallow faces of the Chinese, and on the right the black
waters of the slothful Nuni.
A village of workshops and huts, called Falardi, is
on the north side of the river, and here the Russians
live, and have a rough and ready restaurant, where I
was able to get my first honest meal for a week.
Sometime in the night we went on again, but after
an hour we stopped ; then a few more versts on, and
then stopped again, and then at a place called Bukarto
we pulled up for what seemed the better part of the
day. In thirty hours we had travelled eight mUes.
236 TEE REAL SIBERIA
Some of the time I had as companion a fine
stalwart Russian officer of the frontier guard. The
only word of EngUsh he knew was " Shocking ! "
That one word he made do good service. The line
was " shockeeng ! " the condition of our waggon was
' ' shockeeng ! " the delay was " shockeeng ! " I gathered
that he learnt the word by the fact that English
characters in Russian novels most frequently use it !
Bukarto consisted of not more than a dozen log-
houses, spread over about ten acres of shingled hill-
side. Near at hand were low hills with black knuckles
of rock protruding. A gusty wind swept up from the
Gobi, and made eyes ache with sand. A caravan of
dromedaries, maybe sixty of them, came out of the
wilderness with slouching foot-pats, and disappeared
away into the wilderness again.
Round an elbow of hill was a Cossack encamp-
ment, and as I was told the line was being re -metalled
some dozen miles on, and the train might be delayed
two, three, or four days, possibly a week, I went roam-
ing the camp.
There was none of the smartness generally asso-
ciated with military camps. The huts were of
wheezy boards. There was no furniture except rude
tables and rude stools. The beds were sheepskins
thrown on the floor. All the cooking was done over
log fires, out of doors, and the food chiefly consisted
of black bread and tea.
The Cossacks, rough and dark-featured, lounged
round or squatted on the ground cleaning their rifles.
Strolling back a Cossack came to me and said
something gruffly. I told him I didn't understand
what he was talking about, and went oa He followed
SUSPMOTEB AND ARRESTED. 237
me to tJie train. I jumped into the waggon. Two
other Cossacks came along, and the three chmbed in
beside me.
They wanted me to do something, but I couldn't
make out a word they were saying. The first soldier
showed a disposition to throw my property out of the
waggon.
Then the Britisher in me got uppermost, and I
snatched my bag out of his grasp and told him to
clear out. After a while he and his friends went.
But in a quarter of an hour they came back,
accompanied by an oflScer. We exchanged respectful
salutations, and speaking in German he said I was not
a Russian, and he wanted to know to what country I
belonged.
I told him I was a Britisher, and a journalist.
Then he must ask me to accompany him to see the
colonel of the guard !
I confess I had some misgiving. Here I was,
checked at last, without any authority to go through
Manchuria, and liable to uncomfortable treatment.
I had come so far without any trouble, and I felt
chagrined. I was practically under arrest, for as I
walked along with the officer the three Cossacks fell
in behind with fixed bayonets.
We marched to a bare-looking building, and I was
left in custody of the soldiers while the officer went
inside. I sat on a log with these grim Cossacks close
by, ready to bring me down if I attempted to escape.
So I put the best face on it I could, ht my pipe, and
smoked.
In ten minutes the officer invited me to enter the
building, which I did.
238 THE REAL SIBERIA.
It was a bare kind of room witli accoutrementa
hanging on tlie walls, an oleograph of the Czar, and
some official papers. The colonel of the guard, a
well-set, iron-haired man, rose as I entered, and we
exchanged bows. He was very poHte, and said he was
sorry to trouble me, but as I was a foreigner he must
know what I was doing in Manchuria.
I explained I had been across Siberia to Vladi-
vostok, and was now on my way home.
But why, he asked, did I not return the ordinary
route by the Amur a^d Shilka rivers ?
Because, I said, the ice had stopped the steamers.
Ah, of course ; but was I a military man ?
I laughed and let him understand I hardly knew
one end of a gun from the other; I was just a
journalist travelling, and writing about what I saw.
So, then, I probably had papers explaining who I
was?
Of course ; and I produced my passport, and alsoi
my letters from St. Petersburg, recommending ma
to the courtesy of the Kussian officials in Siberia. I
knew there wasn't a word in them about Manchuria,
and I stood patiently awaiting my fate.
Very slowly he went through those papers ; then
he carefully folded them and handed them back to
me with a bow.
Ves, he said, they were all right, and he was sorry
to have put me to inconvenience. Would I join him
at dinner ?
I accepted, though my inclination was to laugh.
To be arrested as a spy and the arrest to lead to
an invitation to dinner had something decidedly
humorous about it.
EXAMINING PERMISSIONS TO TRAVEL IN MANCHURIA.
SV8FE0TED AND ABBJESTED. 239
Over the dinner it came out that the train was
likely to be delayed at least four days owing to the
relaying of the line. I grumbled mildly.
"But," said my host, "the line is all right at
Hingan, twenty versts on. I'll give you tarantass and
horses, and you can get on there in a couple of hours,
and I will telegraph to the station-master you are
coming."
I was infinitely obliged.
So the very Cossacks who had worried me and
followed me with fixed bayonets were sent as porters
to bring my baggage from the train.
And just as dusk was falUng two tarantasses, un-
comfortable-looking carts, each drawn by three horses,
pulled up ; my goods and chattels were thrown into
one ; I climbed into the other, settled down among
the hay, pulled my skins about me, received wishes
for a good voyage from the officers, and so, with the
bells on the harness jangling merrily, set off over the
hills.
It was a long and cold drive. I lay at the bottom
of the tarantass, with furs piled about me, and was
cosy. There was no road — just a track, and all round
were low black hills. Here and there were tufts of
drifted snow. Twice we crossed streams, and the
wheels crunched ice. Much of the way was through
swampy woods. The earth was frozen hard.
A heavy, sombre stiUness was on the world, broken
only by the tinkling bells and the clatter of the cart.
Now and then we met Manchus journeying in
their quaint vehicles — long, and covered with
matting, so that they looked like casks, and all lined
with skins, making them warm, and the driver., slit-
240 TEE REAL SIBERIA.
eyed, with high cheek-bones, sitting well inside so
that he could hardly be seen.
In time we got back to the railway, and the road
track ran alongside it. Beneath the trees fires blazed
luridly. Gangs of cooUes were cooking the evening
meal. We struck a defile in the hills, and wound
about them following the trail of a stream.
Hingan town was a long, straggling, distorted
place, the houses new and built higgledy-piggledy, as
hke a Western American " boom " town as can be
imagined.
It was not till I reached here that I discovered
the drivers of my two carts were a couple of
lymphatic Tartars, whose knowledge of Russian was
as limited as my own. They did not know the way
to the station.
So I jumped out at a drinking saloon and found
myself among a number of Pole overseers in charge
of the four thousand coolies working on the two miles
of line under repair. They said the station was some
versts on, up a hillside.
Off we set, slowly cUmbing zigzag a lean, dark
mountain, with a few trees blasted and dead by the
way. We stopped to give the horses breath, and then
the only sound was the bark of dogs down in the
town below. A thin sprinkling of snow was on the
ground, and the air was biting with frost.
We reached the top, and there was a canvas
camp, with again many fires lighting up the gloom,
and with Chinamen flitting everywhere like
shadows. It took half an hour winding among
tree stumps before the station was reached — a barn
of a building.
SUSPECTED AND ABBESTED. 241
I was so cold I had hardly strength to push open
the door. I found myself in a big room packed
with piles of baggage and folks squatting on the
floor. Russians don't like fresh air, and the place
was fetid with the odour of unwashed bodies. It
was a mixed crowd — soldiers, traders, moujiks,
women and children, some curled up asleep, but
most sprawling in awkward attitudes. I got a man
to pull my sheepskin coat from me, and sighting a
samovar in the corner, I drank tea till I thawed.
It was not a savoury spot to spend a night in.
The nostrils, however, soon got accHmatised, and the
place was warm, which was the principal thing.
Presently in came the station-master, a thin slip
of a man, extremely nervous, and anxious to do
anything. He gave me his office to sleep in, and
helped in arranging skins on the floor as a make-
shift bed.
Inquiries about a train in the direction of Hilar
brought out that there would not be one till six the
next evening, I shrugged my shoulders, and was
resigned to wait till then.
"But," said the station-master, "an engine and
some trucks are going along to Mindenken, some
sixty versts from here, and you can go by it, and it
will start any time to suit you."
I was in luck's way again.
Five o'clock in the morning, I suggested. Yes,
five o'clock in the morning for certain, and as there
was a fourth-class carriage about, he would have it
put on for me.
I woke myself at half-past four in the morning,
and went out to see if the train was about.
242 TEE SEAL SIBERIA.
Not a sign. It was pitch dark, save for a few
blinking stars. It was so cold that hoar lay on the
boards half an inch thick.
On the other side of the hne some Chinese were
making tea. I went to their fire to warm myself.
They offered me a cup, and delightful it was, though
muddy. Then I went back to the station, and
entered the room where the crowd of poor folks
were.
Everybody was asleep, and the lamp flickered on
upturned faces, unshaven soldiers, rough and thick-
lipped peasants, plain women with the sadness of
long patience on their faces, tiny mites of children
dead tired, sleeping open-mouthed across the
mothers' knees, and the little chubby fists hanging
carelessly. They all, poor souls, were coming to this
land of Manchuria from Siberia to labour and to
earn their bread. I shut the door gently, not
wanting to break the sleep that shutters care.
It was eight o'clock, a bright morning, but with
cold that cut like a wolf's tooth, when the engine
came.
There was a grey-painted fourth-class carriage,
bare and dirty, with a broken window, but still a
carriage. There was shunting to get some trucks
to go along.
The news spread that this was a train bound
Siberia-wards. Then the trucks were besieged by an
army of men who sprang from beneath the trees
where they had been sleeping, men clad in wooUen
garments, with velvet breeches, huge felt leggings,
sheepskin hats, but with the hair inside, making
them look as though they had stewpots on their
SUSPEOTEB AND ARRESTED. 243
heads, great bundles swung behind them, and most of
their beards a mass of icicles. They were labourers
from Little Kussia, in the south, with their work
now over, returning home as best they could, and
snatching the opportunity of a lift. With their
padded clothes and great bundles, they were
hampered in their acrobatic efforts to clamber into
those three trucks. However, they all got on,
though they were wedged as tight as sardines.
Away dashed the train with its light load. The
soil was stony, and so the ballast was good.
The country, however, was a featureless plain,
but with the shoulders of hills heaving in the
distance. I was nearing the terminus of the line,
so far finished on the Manchurian side of the Hingan
mountains.
There were stations by the way. One had been
opened two days before and consisted of a single
goods waggon.
With a shriek and a long whistle the train
stopped opposite a few huts. This was Mindenken,
the last spot to which trains that day ran.
So I had my belongings thrown on the bank,
and set about finding means to take me over the
mountains into Mongolia.
244
CHAPTER XXI.
IN A CORNER OF MONGOLIA.
You will not find on a map the cluster of wooden_
huts called Mindenken, where the Manchurian rail-
way, on Saturday, October 19th, 1901, came to a
sudden stop. But you may easily find the Hingan
mountains, breaking north-east between Mongolia and
Manchuria, and if you draw a line from Hilar, spelt
sometime ChaUar, in the land of the Mongols, to
Sitsikar, spelt sometimes Tsitsihar, in the land of the
Manchus, you may suppose Mindenken to lie within
the eastern shadow of the Hingan range.
I have said that on that Saturday the railway
stopped suddenly at Mindenken. On the Sunday it
would stop farther west, and on Monday further west
stiU; whilst all the time, on the other side of the
hills, the line was creeping south. So within a fort-
night after I had passed that way the two sections
would have joined, and the dream of travellers to
make a journey from Paris to Pekin by rail be
complete.
For never since man has been able to wield a
spade has any work been pushed on with such
rapidity as this eastern Chinese railway.
I took a walk several miles up the line to where
the building was in progress. Towards a great cleft
in the mountain a track was staked over the barren
plain. Three thousand Chinese coolies were doing
nothing else but shovel the adjoining earth into
IN A OOBNEB OF MONGOLIA. 245
baskets, swing two baskets at the end of a pole across
their shoulders, carry it to between the stakes, and
build a bank some two or three feet above the level.
They worked slowly and carried paltry amounts of
earth, and dawdled on their way back for another
load.
Yet what a lot of blue ants they were, surging to
and fro and gradually, at the shout of the Russian
overseer, moving further along the plain.
On the new bank marched men, levelling the
earth where it humped. Stacked near by were piles
of sleepers. Coolies seized these and flung them
across the track, not always straight, and at distances
sometimes a foot, sometimes three feet apart.
Not many yards behind where the rails were being
laid came a trolley. On this were other rails. A
dozen men on one side, a dozen men on the other,
caught two rails, ran forward with them, thumped
on the sleepers, and then — with a Russian foreman
holding a stick to measure the exact distance they
should be kept apart — there came the clang of
hammers and the driving of clamps. That finished,
there was possibly a levering up of a sleeper, and the
shovelling under of earth to get something approxi-
mate to evenness. Then the trolley rumbled forward
a few yards, and other two rails were seized and
laid.
Behind all was a long goods train, filled with
railway building material, crawling in the wake of the
workmen and feeding them with sleepers, and rails,
and bolts.
I walked over the section built on the Friday.
It was humpy ; the two rails were like the first effort
246 THE REAL SIBERIA.
of a child to draw parallel lines ; in some places the
rail was holding the sleeper end from the ground
instead of resting on it.
But here was the great fact : the railway was
being built, trains could run over it, and troops be
carried. And the laying of that line was at the extra-
ordinary rate of three English miles a day !
That day, a distance of 40 miles (60 versts)
separated the two sections of the line working towards
one another. This I was to cover in a tarantass.
For the convenience of engineers and officers, and
British journalists, there was a post station, rather
like a cowhouse, exceedingly dirty, and when I looked
at the roof, not more than six inches above my
head, I shuddered at finding it simply heaving with
bugs.
The peasant Kussians have a superstition about
these creatures. They won't kill them. Indeed,
when they build a new house they fill a hat full
of bugs from the old residence and turn them loose
in the new one, for a house without bugs is an
unlucky house. The things kept falling on the floor
and the table, and on my person.
I had a bowl of cabbage soup, but, while eating it,
it was necessary to hold my hat over the dish like a
lid to avoid accidents.
With much patience, I got three horses and the
tarantass. A few kopecks led to a double quantity
of hay being thrown in the bottom of the tarantass
so I might be more comfortable. The horses — one
in the middle with a big wooden arch, painted green,
red, and yellow over it, and with jangling bells, and
one on either side — were sturdy animals. The driver
THE AUTHOR AS HE TRAVELLED OVER THE HINGAN MOUNTAINS
THE POST IN MANCHURIA.
IN A CORNER OF J^ONQOLIA. 247
was a lean Tartar who had taken to Russian dress.
With him on the front of the car sat a sharp-faced
Russian soldier, whom it was thought necessary to
send with me in case a few Boxers threatened
attack.
There was no road as we Britishers understand
a road, only a well-marked track into the mountains.
There was a low wind blowing, so that at times
we were enveloped in dust. The day, however,
although bitterly cold, was fine, with the bluest of
skies.
And what a joy it was to escape from the evil-
smelling, jolting tram, and sit at one's ease behind
three horses that were racing like the wind I The
intoxication of motion settled on me, and the ride
was delightful.
There was nothing impressive about the moun-
tains. They were old mountains, rounded with age,
the valleys all filled in and as level as plains. We
took great sweeps up a mountain side, but once over
the ridge, there stretched another filled-up valley,
with here and there the head of a rock sticking forth
as though refusing to be buried.
Twice we passed halting caravans in charge of
Mongols, who looked at us drowsily as the sweating
horses scampered by.
The country was desolation : long, rank grass with
patches of swamp on the hillsides, ragged sheets ot
black marking the range of summer fires. Not a
tree was anywhere. It was a barren region. And
yet when the horses stood panting after a long climb
there was satisfaction in looking at this corner of the
world, so far from the bustling, active West, and
248 THE REAL SIBERIA.
watching the heave of the hills till they faded in a
purple haze.
In the middle of a plain we came upon a newly
built hut, half a dozen low-roofed felt tents, and
a fenced yard with horses and tarantasses about.
This was Yackshi Kosatshi, where horses were to be
changed.
The postmaster was a pock-marked, red- whiskered,
surly rascal, who gruffly told me he had no horses.
I pointed him out thirty.
Well, those had just come in and were dead
tired, and he couldn't let them go out under four
hours !
Next I pointed out that twenty of the horses had
not been out all day, judging from their appearance.
Oh, well, he expected some officials along.
Of course he was lying. He was simply wanting
to be bribed into doing his duty as a special favour.
I gave him two roubles and told him I would expect
three of his best horses to be ready in half an hour.
Then I crawled into one of the tents where some
moujiks were eating, made myself tea, and ate a
hunk of bread. Coming out I found the horses
waiting.
I've never seen horses in my life that could go
hke those three.
The driver was a wiry old man, with tiny,
twinkling eyes, and a huge flowing beard. And the
pride he took in the pace of his horses ! Standing
up, he swung the loose end of the reins round his
head and gave a yell. The horses bolted. There was
no fear of collision with anything except a mountain.
With practically no weight for three horses to draw
IN A OOBNER OF MONGOLIA. 249
the animals tore along, their heads in the air. I
gripped the side of that tarantass, enjoying it
immensely, but with a little wonder at the back
of my head what exactly would happen if something
gave way. Kussians love their horses to go fast, and
frequently the old fellow would turn round and grin
and ask me if the ride was good.
A steep hill with the uneven track hugging its
side, reduced the horses to a walk. I got out and
walked also.
The day was just beginning to soften to grey when
I stood on the top of the Hingan Mountains,
Manchuria behind and Mongolia in front. There was
a pile of stones close by, accumulated through the
ages. Every traveller, Mongol, Manchu, Chinese,
Eussian, or wandering Britisher, is expected to
contribute to the pile. I roamed till I found a loose
stone, threw it on the heap, had one last look at
Manchuria, and, climbing into the tarantass, was
carried at a breakneck speed down upon a corner of
the great Gobi desert. It was all a wild waste, with
the wind sobbing fitfuUy.
There was something, however, that attracted my
attention. It was a rude wooden cross. Some way-
farer had fallen, and here had been buried, and friends
had raised this rough emblem of his faith.
Mad hallooing on the part of my driver, and
spurring on of the horses, that should have been
spent, but were not, symbolised our arrival at Bolshei
Yackshi. It was a lanky Eussian village, crouching
in the shelter of a hiU as though it would escape the
sweeping sandstorm that roared along from the Gobi.
The hotises were of logs, but, with the exception of
250 THE SEAL SIBERIA.
a little passage for the doorway and a little aperture
for the window, every house was like a pile of earth,
for sods had been planted over to help in resisting the
winter cold.
We drove some versts beyond, out to the plain
again, bumped over a railway crossing, saw workmen's
tents, and pulled up at a wooden house, which was the
station. The dust had given me the face of a collier
fresh from the pit.
The first thing I did was to hunt up the station-
master, a youngish, anaemic man, shivering from the
cold, and asked about a train to the frontier.
" Next morning, at daybreak," said he sourly, and
he pointed out the cars a long way off, and told me I
would find a fourth-class carriage. So off I trudged.
The fourth-class carriage was under the charge of
a poor, cringing wisp of a man, who had the place
heated with a stove to an absolutely unbearable
temperature. But he was willing to do anything to
oblige. So the windows were soon open, and he
tramped off to get a. paU of water from somewhere.
Then, with him holding a lantern and my converting
the carriage step into a dressing table, I stood out on
the desert and had my first wash for two days.
Next, in Saturday cleanliness, I went away back to
the station to hunt for food, because the successful
progress of a journalist, like that of an army, largely
depends on the stomach. In a dirty hovel of a place
I got a man to sell me a tin of sardines for 4s. Bread
was cheaper, and I got a two-pound chunk for ten-
pence. When I returned with my provisions the train
attendant had boiling water, and soon tea was ready.
That carriage was full of the odours of blistered paint.
— ^
.-fy^M^sir:^ ^■.--■-^■f*-
A MEAL ON A CORNER OF THE GOBI DESERT.
IN A CORNER OF MONGOLIA. 231
Therefore I preferred to sit on the railway bank,
while my wisp of a man rummaged round and
gathered chips from sleepers to keep a fire going.
The next morning, Sunday, October 20th, no
engine put in its appearance.
" When would it ? " I inquired.
" Ge chas ! At nine o'clock ; at midday ; cer-
tainly in two hours ; without doubt at five o'clock ! "
It was a raw, drear Sunday.
I was the only person waiting for a lift, and it was
lonely. The man was, of course, a sort of companion,
but he had a smirking Uriah Heep way of raising
his shoulders and rubbing his hands that was
irritating.
I walked up and down for an hour or two for
exercise, and he sat watching me as though I were
some animal that amused him, yet which he wanted
to please.
In the afternoon some Mongols came along on
camels and driving a herd of sheep. They camped
for the night and killed a sheep. I bought part of it.
It was something to do, for while the man made a
fire, I cut up the meat for soup, and when the blaze
had gone out and nothing remained but glowing
embers, I threaded bits of the mutton on a wooden
skewer and cooked them over the glowing wood.
That is what is called shashlik. I don't know
what it would be like in an English dining-room, but
eaten on the Gobi Desert, though it did taste of the
skewer, and there were ashes on it, it was one of the
daintiest and most luscious dishes imaginable.
No signs of any incoming train that night ! No
signs either in the morning ! At noon however
252 THE REAL SIBERIA.
there was a puff of smoke on the horizon, and in about
two hours in crawled a train.
What had been the delay ? There had been three
trucks off the Hne ! But in two hours, when the
engine-driver had fed, he would take back our train.
Two hours, four hours, six hours went, and the
engine, which had gone on with material for railway
building some twelve versts further, did not return.
Why ? The same three trucks had gone off the line
a second time !
So another day went.
The wind never ceased blowing from the desert,
bringing with it a haze of sand which gave the sun a
dull, bronzed hue. Night came in an angry mood,
and the gale hissed and spat around my dreary habi-
tation. Far in the night, however, there was a bump
and a jerk. It was impossible to sleep, but I didn't
mind, for the train was going on at last.
What a morning !
The sky dark and lowering, the train staggering
over a world widowed of all beauty ! There was snow
and sleet and rain.
In a hurricane of the elements we reached Hilar,
a great Mongol city. When I jumped from the train
and felt the full blast of the cold, it was as though I
had been shot with a thousand needles. There were
new-built Russian houses about, but no evidence of
the Mongol city.
Rubbing up acquaintance with a Russian, I learnt
the city was two miles away, and we set out to see it
together. On the way we came to a Chinese temple
with low, fluted roof, curled up at the corners in the
customary Chinese temple style.
m A OORNEB OF MONGOLIA. 253
We had hardly stepped over the threshold ■when a
Russian soldier dashed at us with fixed bayonet, and
threatened nasty consequences if we didn't get out.
It is unwise to argue with a man holding a fixed
bayonet, and accordingly we went out.
My Russian companion was indignant. We sought
the colonel, who in turn was wroth with the over-
zealous warrior, and himself offered to show us the
temple. In the courtyard were a number of quaint
old Chinese cannon, mounted on wooden wheels and
studded with iron nails, captured by the Russians
during last year's disturbances. Soldiers were loading
into a cart a quantity of flint-locks. The temple
itself was in disorder. The Russian troops had run
riot. The chief god, a big, brown-featured monster,
had been battered with sticks, and one eye had
disappeared. His nose was a pulp, and altogether he
had a very dissipated air. Another god was pock-
marked with revolver shots.
About half a mile off was Hilar itself, a walled
city, entered by a double gate surmounted by a
picturesque turret. It was like going into a place
that had been stricken with some fell disease. The
city consisted of one long street with Chinese houses
on either side, but many of them were in ruin, and
there wasn't a Chinaman to be seen.
The town was in possession of Russian troops, and
the Russian flag fluttered in a dozen places. 1
asked the colonel if there had been any fighting
here.
"No," he said, "all the Chinese fled on the
approach of the Russians."
The principal building was now used as an
254 TEB BEAL SIBERIA.
Orthodox Greek Church, and three bells from the
pagan temple were utilised in calling Christians to
worship. Buildings had been demolished in the
centre of the town, the space cleared, and in the
centre stood a cross.
" That," explained the colonel, " is the site for our
new church."
The train halted for nine hours at Hilar, till
another train from the opposite direction came in.
It brought a crowd of officers and their wives and
children, all on their way to Manchuria. On we went
again.
The Hne improved, and without a mishap we
trundled a whole day through a featureless plain.
There were no villages, although there were
stations at intervals, and many little settlements of
Cossacks to guard the line. We began to pick up
officers on their way home for a holiday. Then late
on the Wednesday night we reached the frontier.
Here the Eastern Chinese railway ended, and my
free trip came to an end also. There was a branch
line of the Siberian railway running third-class
carriages to the main line. The price was some ten
sbilhngs for over a day's ride. We sped through a
snow-smothered country to Katiska Easiez.
I was back in Siberia, at a spot I had passed two
montk^ before. From there I returned to Irkutsk,
crossing Lake Baikal in a storm, the ship's side a mass
of ice and the thermometer registering 44 degrees of
frost, Fahrenheit. It was Sunday evening, October
27th.
I drove through the snow-slashed streets of " the
Paris of Siberia," just a little sorry my adventure of i
IN A OOENER OF MONOOLIA. 255
crossing the forbidden land of Manchuria was
over.
But the delight it was to remove one's clothes,
have a bath, and sleep in a bed — for the first time in
seventeen days — is not to be described in words.
256
CHAPTER XXII.
A COLD DRIVE TO A GREAT PRISON.
Back in Irkutsk I availed myself of the offer the
governor-general of the province had made two
months before, to visit the largest prison in Siberia,
that of Alexandrovski.
The convict town lies just fifty miles to the north-
west of Irkutsk, over halls and through a wild and
wooded region. The journey was to be made by
tarantass. As it was the closing days of October, and
aU Siberia lay beneath a cloak of snow, sledges were
scudding through the broad streets of Irkutsk, every-
body was wrapped in furs, and it was likely to be a
cold trip. As companions I had the secretary of the
inspector of prisons and a young German, who spoke
Russian well, and who was delighted to have the;
opportunity, by acting in the capacity of interpreter, '
to see the inside of a famous prison.
It had been arranged that we were to start in the
early afternoon, and reach Alexandrovski in time to
have an evening meal with the governor.
But you must always allow a margin of a few
hours in Russia. So I was not surprised at it being
close on five o'clock and the daylight waning when I
heard a great jangle of bells in the streets heralding
the arrival of two tarantasses.
They were like great country carts, roughly built, '
with the back covered with a hood lined with skin. '
Everything had been done to secure comfort. The
A OOLD DRIVE TO A GREAT PRISON. 257
bottom of the cart was filled with hay, and over this
had been thrown sheepskins. There were piUows
under the hood, sheepskins to throw over us, and a
big leather apron that buttoned three parts up the
cart.
I donned a pair of clumsy, knee-reaching felt boots
over my ordinary boots, and besides an ordinary top-
coat, suitable for winter wear in England, I put on
my sheepskin shuba, and on the top of that a mighty
enveloping fursldn travelling coat lent me by the
prison inspector. Thus, with a warm Astrakan hat, I
felt I might brave a visit to the North Pole, though I
was as ungainly as a walrus.
My companions were clad much the same, but
they carried revolvers, and threw them on their
pillows ready for use ; and at the last moment a
friend pushed his revolver into my hand, and insisted
on my taking it. There had been fourteen murders
in the outskirts of Irkutsk the previous week.
Desperadoes were about, and it was unwise to go
unarmed.
It was just dark when we set off, the German and
I, in the big tarantass, and the official following in a
smaller tarantass. The six horses were fresh, and
with much bell-ringing away we clattered into the
country. The road was little other than a track,
roughed up in the rains and now frozen hard, and
with not sufficient snow to deaden the jolting. We
jolted till I was certain my bones were splintered.
The night was beautiful. The moon, a great arc
of light streaming upon a world of snow, gave a
brightness almost as of day. We climbed into the
hills that had a whiteness only broken by tufts of
258 TBE REAL SIBERIA.
gaunt fir trees. There were long stretches of slow-
going, then stretches at a rattling pace, then
crawling again. There was no wind.
Around us was a great moon-swept silence but
for the bells that sang crisply in the icy air. After
fifteen miles we reached a posthouse, and were glad
to throw off our heavy coverings and move our chilled
limbs while the wife of the postmaster made tea.
Here we decided to have sledges.
Travelling by sledge on a moonlight night,
through stiU woods, and with not a sound but the
hoof pats of the horses and the merry ring of the bells,
is a delicious experience. The driver forsook the road
and took short cuts by copse sides, going gaUy, with
now and then a pelt of snow kicked by a horse
striking us in the face. The bank was often steep, and
our sledge swerved over like a yawl hit by a sudden
gale, and the driver slipped to the ground and pushed
back to prevent an upset. It was exciting and
exhilarating.
The cold ? Oh, it had become cold when midnight
was past. It was the first time in my hfe I had any
conception of what real cold was like. I make no
guesses at how many degrees of frost there were. But
my cheeks felt as though they were being pared with
a knife. The German and I lay at the bottom of the
sledge and puUed sheepskins over us, though we were
already swathed in furs. Yet the cold struck us, and
seemed to freeze the marrow in our bones. We
huddled, too numb even to speak.
When we finished the second stage of twenty miles
we could hardly walk. We could not get rid of our
wraps without aid. It was a full half-hour before any
I OOLD DUIVE TO A OUMAT PRISON. 259
sensation came into my hands and I could lift a glass
of tea to my lips. Then we went on by sledge again.
I remember the night was bright, and that I
rebuked myself for not sitting up and musing poetic-
ally. Ugh ! but all poetry was frozen.
It was four o'clock in the morning when we arrived
at Alexandrovski, having, with two halts of an hour
each, taken eleven hours to come from Irkutsk.
There was a great forbidding building. But all was
quiet except that on the corners of the wall tramped
soldiers with rifles.
Lights shone in a house. This was a club for the
prison officials. The attendants, all good-conduct
convicts, helped us to remove our burdensome clothes,
showed us our bedrooms clean and warm, pulled off
our boots, and brought slippers, and in a quarter of an
hour had a meal of cutlets and coffee on the dining-
room table.
Whilst at breakfast, five hours later, I was called
upon by the governor of the prison, the governor of
the " ^tape " or distributing station, the chief medical
officer, and other officers.
Had it not been for his uniform, epaulettes, top
boots, and mihtary cap, I might have taken the
governor for the conductor of a German orchestra — a
smallish, well-set, grey man, with long, iron-streaked
hair thrown straight back, and features that reminded
me of the portraits of Liszt before he became a very
old man.
We set out in a group, tramping the snow to see
the village, the governor on the way telling me that
all the men I saw about, except those in uniform,
were convicts whose conduct had been good enough
260 THE REAL SIBERIA.
to warrant their being allowed out ot prison to act as
workmen or servants. Now and then, he said, a man
escaped. But Siberia is a difficult place to get out of,
because CYerybody may be called upon by the police
to show their passports. The only way a man has
any chance of freedom is to waylay a peasant and
murder him to get possession of his passport. Convicts
do not try to escape in the winter. The climate is too
terrible for them to live in the woods while making a
long cut across country, sometimes a thousand or
twelve hundred miles, to some spot where they are
not Ukely to be recognised. Unless they have got a
passport arrest is certaia. In that case they remain
dumb. They will neither give their names, nor say
where they have come from. There is no direct
evidence that they are escaped prisoners, and, although
all efforts are made to identify them, and often success-
fully, quite a large number gain their liberty after a
few months, because it is impossible to keep a man in
prison on suspicion of being a runaway, however well
founded the suspicion may be.
The governor said he had very little trouble with
escapees. With a smile, he assured me that the men
were much better cared for and fed in a prison than
they would be out of it. The usual plan for convicts
is to serve so many years in prison and then be obliged
for so many years to live in a particular district of
Siberia before they are at full liberty to return to
Russia. Very few of them do so, for by the time they
have fuU liberty they have probably a good situation,
or are settled in business. In the case of deserving
men, the governor himself tries to get them situations,
for he recognises the evil of turning men loose with in-
THE GOVERNOR OF ALEXAN DROVSK I AND
THE CHIEF WARDER,
BRINGING IN THE PRISONERS' DINNER.
A COLD DRIVE TO A GREAT PRISON. 261
structions to shift for themselves. All the hotel porters
and many of the workmen in Irkutsk are ex-convicts.
The Russian prison authorities have recognised, as I
pointed out in the chapter describing a visit to Irkutsk
prison, that the present system is a bad one. The
convicts, excepting the political exiles, are in many
cases of the usual degraded class, who do not return
to Russia when they have the chance, but hang round
the towns, a danger to the community. The evil
reputation of Irkutsk is entirely due to the fact that
half of the population are Hberated cut-throats, or
their children. The respectable Siberians object to
their country being the dumping ground of the
villainous riff-raff of aU Russia, and so gradually the
practice of sending convicts to Siberia is being stopped.
Right opposite the club-house is a fine brick
Greek church, entirely built by the convicts. All the
carvings, decorations, even the sacred pictures, are
convict work The centre of the church is open, but
the back part is heavily barred, and so is the gallery.
It is here that the prisoners are marched to their
devotions.
Then we walked down the street to the soldier-
guarded entrance of the prison, where 1,260 men,
from aU parts of Russia, even the utmost corners of
Turkestan, were undergoing penal servitude for all
the worst crimes against society.
There is no need for me becoming wearisome by
giving a detailed account of what I saw.
The great thing that got wedged into my mind
was, how different everything was from the popular
idea in England of what a Siberian prison is sure to be.
Alexandrovski gaol is a great square building,
262 TEE REAL SIBERIA.
severely plain. The passages are high, colour-washed,
and with sand on the floors. The prisoners were all
in long, grey, and ill-fitting coats. The dormitories
had about fifty men in each. These men jumped to
their feet, and in a chorus returned our "good
morning." They were mostly heavy-jowled, brutish
men, who eyed us with sullen gaze.
The governor, whose manners were not official
but friendly, picked out a man here and there, asked
him what was his crime, gave a grieved "tut-tut"
when it was horrible, now and then patted a young
fellow on the shoulder, and when a prisoner showed a
stick he had been carving he admired it as a father
would admire the work of his boy.
I saw no restraint or check. Several of the men
came up and said they were shoemakers, or tailors, or
carpenters, and asked that they might be given work
— for a reason I wUl presently explain.
These men in the large dormitories do nothing
but lounge and talk the day away. They get brown
bread and tea for breakfast, soup and chunks of meat
in it for dinner and more bread, and in the evening
bread and tea again — the usual food of the artisan
Russian, but much better in quality, as I know from
experience. The sanitary arrangements were the best
I have seen, and I raised a smile by wishing that at
my hotel ia Irkutsk they were but a tithe as good.
In one great hall all the Mohammedan prisoners
were together — thick-lipped, slothful-eyed men. In
another were all Jews, and on one side was the ark
so they might worship. I walked along between a
double row of them casting casual glances to right
and left, when suddenly a little bead-eyed prisoner, in
A OOLD DRIVE TO A GREAT PRISON. 263
a coat much too big for him and trailing the gromid,
stepped up to me and said, " Are you from England,
sir ? "
I was startled to be addressed in perfect English
in a far-off Siberian prison. So I replied, " Hello !
where do you come from ? "
" I belong to Glasgow," he answered, " and my
father is manager of the Hotel in Edinburgh."
" Well, you've got a long way from home, haven't
you ? " I added.
" Yes, sir, I have," he replied. I couldn't weU ask
him what was his offence, but I said, " How long are
you in residence here ? "
He smiled back, " Oh, I'm here for ten years, and
another six years to serve." I afterwards asked the
governor about him, and learnt that he was a forger
from Kiga.
Then to the workshops. There was one large
room where a band of men were making boots for
their fellow prisoners, and another where rough and
ready tailoring was in progress. The largest work-
shop was that devoted to carpentry. Tables and
chairs and wardrobes were to be seen in course of
manufacture. Also there was iron-work, largely the
making of cheap bedsteads.
There was another big and well-lighted room
devoted to men who had a faculty in a particular
direction. I spent half an hour here. There was
one old man bookbinding, another was engaged in
the designing of patent locks ; one man was mend-
ing watches ; the man next him was making a con-
certina, whilst still another was busy with crewel work.
The idea that I was in a prison— one of the dread
264 THE REAL SIBERIA.
Siberian prisons, in truth — slipped from my mind.
Instead of convicts, the workers looked like a body
of well-contented artisans. There was no hindrance
to conversation, and many of the men were smoking
cigarettes. This led to explanations.
There is not enough work to be found for all the
men, and idleness palls on even the hardened
convict. They are anxious to work. The governor,
who knew all about the prison system in England,
held that men should not be given hard labour just
for the sake of the hard labour.
"I never set a man to do anything," he said,
"that is not useful; that he himself cannot
appreciate. Picking oakum demoralises a man,
but teach him bookbinding and you are making a
useful man, who appreciates his usefulness, and who
will have something better than robbery to turn to
when he has finished his term."
Everyone engaged in work at Alexandrovski
receives a wage; very small, but still a wage. This
is entered up to him, and it can accumulate till he
leaves; or he can spend it while he is in prison.
This led to a visit to the prison shop, very much like
any other shop, with a counter and all sorts of
things stacked round. Here a prisoner could buy
niceties up to the amount of the balance standing in
his name — ^white bread, cheese, sausages, sardines,
cigarettes, etc.
My exclamation was that the prisoners were a
great deal too well treated.
" No, no," repUed the governor, " if we are doing
anything to make the lives of these poor fellows a
little brighter, we are doing right."
A COLD DRIVE TO A GREAT PRISON. 266
Then he button-holed me with both hands, and
turning his kindly grey eyes up to my face, he said,
" I know you are a journalist, and that you will be
■writing about your visit. AU I ask is that you tell
the truth. I am sickened and grieved at times when
I read what is said in English and American papers
about our prisons. A prison is a prison, and we
have to be very, very severe with certain types of
prisoners. But that we prison officials are vindictive
and cruel, well — well, all I ask is that you will tell
what you have seen."
I was struck by the sincerity and kindness of
the old man, and I remarked, half in jest, " It is a
wonder you don't have a theatre."
" We have," was his immediate reply. " This is
the only prison where there is such a thing, but I
believe in amusing my men. Would you like to
see it?"
So we climbed to a big upper room, and there
was the stage and scenery and drop curtain complete.
This was luxury indeed.
" I cannot give you a special performance," said
the governor, " but we are very proud of our singing
here. Would you like to hear it ? "
We sat down and smoked cigarettes whUe a
messenger was sent to hunt up half a dozen singers.
They came in their prison garb, six inteUigent-
loo^g men, and they sang three part-songs as finely
and with as much verve and expression as many a
renowned choir.
Then to the library. AU the men are allowed
several hours of liberty each day, and those who can
read — not a large proportion — make for the library.
266 TEE REAL SIBERIA.
As we walked along the corridor I noticed a number
of pictures upon the walls. They all portrayed the
evil consequences of drink. There were some thirty
men in the reading-room, and had it not been for
the prison garb, I might have been visiting a small
public library at home. There were heavy books,
novels, and, strangest of all, newspapers.
The talk turned to the wives of prisoners. The
governor told me that the authorities quite appre-
ciated the evil straits to which a woman might be
put through being stranded and alone while her
husband was sent for a long term of years to Siberia.
When a man is banished from Kussia to Siberia his
wife may claim divorce by right. But should she
prefer to follow her husband the government will pay
the passage for herself and children to the town
where the prison is situated. After that the woman
must shift for herself, though the government make
a meagre contribution of about three-farthings a day
towards the maintenance of each child. As far as
is possible, the prison finds work for the women in
the shape of washing and sewing. A married convict
who behaves himself is allowed to work outside the
prison, to Hve, indeed, with his own family, provided
he reports himself every day, and pays a certain
proportion of his wages to the authorities.
Sledges were waiting for us, and away the horses
scampered up a hill, where we visited the school for
the children of convicts, clean, neat, and in charge
of a gentle-natured matron. The little girls, who
were sewing, made us dainty curtseys as we entered
the schoolroom.
It happened to be the hour when the boys had
A COLD DRIVE TO A GREAT PRISON: 267
finislied schooling, but we found them in adjoining
workshops, all busy learning trades. Though there
was a pathetic side to it, a smile crept to the lips on
seeing a chubby little chap, aged seven, mending a
big boot, and doing it awkwardly and with flushed
cheek — for the high prison authorities and a couple
of foreigners were looking on.
Next a quick ride to another part of the town to
the " etape," guarded by a wooden wall of fir trees
standing close and on end, and all sharpened on the
top. Every twenty yards there marched hither and
thither through the snow a soldier with musket
across his shoulder.
This was a distributing station, to which batches
of convicts are sent from all parts of the Russian
Empire to await decision where they shall spend the
years of their punishment. Just as we entered a
batch of forty men, muffled in heavy grey coats, were
starting out in the custody of exactly the same
number of soldiers, to walk seventy miles to a small
prison up country.
I was not favourably impressed with the " etape."
The rooms were overcrowded, and the stench almost
choked me. The men looked dirty and ill-cared for.
They had no work ; they were just huddled together,
waiting often six or eight months before they were
sent off.
In the yard I caught sight of six young fellows in
ordinary civilian clothes, and with certainly nothing
of the criminal about them.
Afterwards, on entering one of the rooms, the
brightest and cleanest in the "etape," these young
men stood up and greeted us. Meeting them waa
268 TEE REAL SIBERIA.
the one thing, during my visit to Alexandrovski, that
filled me with sorrow. They were boys, the youngest
seventeen, the eldest twenty-two, bright and intelli-
gent. They were political exiles! They had taken
part in some boyish socialistic demonstration against
the government. For this they had already been in
prison for a year, and were on their way to the dreary
frozen province of Yakutsk, under banishment for ten
years.
There is much the traveller is forced to admire
about Russia. It isa pleasure to find things so much
better than sensational writers describe. But for a
mighty government to wreak vengeance on boys
inclined to socialism is so mean and paltry, so very
stupid !
The lads, however, didn't seem to mind. With
money supplied by their friends they have had what
food they liked ; they had plenty of books and news-
papers. One of them had a little writing table, and
on it were photographs of his mother and father.
It was now afternoon, and the governor invited
me to dinner with his family and the chief prison
authorities.
It was a bleak, snowy afternoon. But the Russians
are fuU of hospitality, and at the table the talk
drifted to more pleasant things than convict life.
After dinner the governor got out his violin, the
doctor produced his 'ceUo, and with the governor's
daughter at the piano we had an hour of Mozart's
trios.
It was a little strange : in far Siberia, in a pleasant
drawing-room, a young lady at the piano, and the
governor of the biggest prison in Siberia — who ought
THREE PRISONERS.
' POLITICALS " STARTING UP-COUNTRY.
A GOLD DRIVE TO A GREAT PRISON. 269
I suppose, to have been a brutal- visaged man devising
cruelties — throwing back his long hair, while his grey
eyes sparkled in the ecstacy of musical enjoyment,
and then just across the road the dark walls of the
prison, with hooded soldiers standing on guard.
It was night again when I bade good-bye to
Alexandrovski and climbed my sledge, and from
beneath bundles of furs waved an adieu to my friends
of a day, and started back on a fifty-mile ride through
a snow-slashed land to the city of Irkutsk.
2?0
CHAPTER XXIII.
THE HOMEWARD JOURNEY AND SOME OPINIONS.
I CAME back to the Western world, from Irkutsk to
Moscow, by the famous bi-weekly express.
When my face had been set eastwards, Siberia
was in the first flush of summer. But now, from the
Hingan mountains, bordering Manchuria, till I crossed
the frontier into Germany, a stretch of seven thousand
miles, I saw nothing but a wilderness of white — the
woods bare and the trees frosted, the plains like a
silent snowy sea.
The cruel wind came in a whisper from the north-
west, sweeping a crystal spray into drifts. The villages,
ugly and gaunt, lay as though dead. Now and then
along the trackside were seen sledges, rough boards
on a couple of runners, and the Siberians crouched in
a bundle of sheepskins, shivering with cold.
The wayside stations were dismal and desolate.
There would be the clang of a bell ; then the red-
capped station-master would run out, heavily furred,
and with one shoulder raised to ward off the icicle-
teeth of the north ; there would be a double clang ;
then the bell would ring three times and on the train
would go again, on and on, a trailing speck across the
white prairie. The country was at last like the
Siberia of the novelists.
But the travelling ! You good folks who get into
the Scotch express at King's Cross, and have a fine
dining-car and talk about how very luxurious travelling
TEE SOME WARD JOURlTEY. 271
has become in these days, must journey between
Irkutsk and Moscow to know what really can be done
in railway comfort.
It was not a big train. There was the heavy
engine, there was one first-class car, there were two
second-class cars, a restaurant car, and another car for
cooking, carrying baggage, and so oa The train was
luxuriously fitted, and first-class passengers (there not
being many) had each a coupe to themselves, double-
windowed to keep out the cold, hot-air pipes in plenty,
and a thermometer on the wall so that they might see
the temperature ; a writing table, a chair, a movable
electric lamp with green shade, two electric bells, one
to the car attendant, and the other in communication
with the restaurant.
Each night the attendant would make up a com-
fortable bed, soft and clean, and the regulation is that
the linen be changed three times in the eight days.
A touch of the bell in the early morning, and a boy
brought a cup of tea. Ten minutes later there was a
rap at the door, and the attendant entering, put down
your boots he had polished, and told you the bath
was ready !
As the rails are wide, the coaches heavy, and the
speed something under thirty miles an hour, there
was none of that side-jerking which is so inconvenient
on an English line. The train ran smoothly, with
only a low dull thud, to remind you that you were
travelling. So steady was the going that I shaved
every morning without a disaster.
Keturning to my coupe, I found the bed removed,
the place swept and aired, and the attendant spraying
the corridor with perfume.
272 THE REAL SIBERIA.
In the middle of the car was a lounge, and at the
tail of the end coach a little room, almost glass
encased, to serve as observation car.
The restaurant was a cosy place, with movable
tables and chairs, a piano at one end, and a library at
the other. Outside were some forty degrees Fahren-
heit of frost, but the heat of the carriages was kept at
about sixty-five degrees, which was warm, but suited
the Russians.
I am afraid I ministered to the general beUef on
the Continent that all Britishers are mad. Whenever
the train stopped at a station for ten or fifteen
minutes I jumped out, just in a light lounge suit and
cloth cap, and started a little trot up and down for
exercise. The Russians, who never put their noses
outside the door, regarded me through the windows
with open amusement. One told me I was known as
" the mad Englishman," for, they argued, a man must
be mad who forsakes a nice warm carriage to run up
and down in the snow while an icy wind drags tears
from his eyes.
How the railway administration makes that
Siberian express pay is a wonder. The first-class fare
for the entire journey is just over £8, while second-
class passengers, who have all the advantages of the
first, save that their coupes are not so finely decorated,
only pay about £5.
Russia is determined to get all the quick traffic
between Western Europe and the Far East. Now, if
you go by boat from London to Shanghai it will
occupy thirty- six days, and the cost will be from £68
to £95. If you travel express all the way by the
Moscow- Vladivostok route you can get from London
THE HOMEWARD JOURNEY. 273
to Shanghai in sixteen days. Travelling first class
the cost -will be £33 10s., second class £21, and if you
don't mind the rough of third class you can be taken
the whole 8,000 miles for just £13 10s.
You go riding over the trans-Siberian line for
one day, two days, a week, and still those twin threads
of steel stretch further and further. The thing
begins to fascinate, and you stand for hours on the
rear car and watch the rails spin under your feet —
miles, miles, thousands of miles !
It is not the gaunt, lonesome waste of Siberia that
frightens you. What grips you and plays upon your
imagination is that men should have thus half-
girded the world with a band of steel.
The Russian is an easy and agreeable traveller
He puts up no barrier of chilly reserve between him-
self and his fellows.
On board that train was like on board ship. In
a day everybody was friendly with everybody else.
Russian military officers played cards all day long
with German commercial travellers; a long-limbed,
fair-whiskered naval officer, on his way home after
four months' starving adventure in the far north
map-making, became the devoted slave of the stout
Moscow Jewess, who wore diamonds that made one's
eyes ache, and who was constantly tinkling with one
finger on the piano the refrain in Chopin's " Funeral
March " ; three rugged, good-natured American gold
miners, returning from the MongoUan mountains,
lay on their backs reading novels, except when they
turned over on their sides to spit ; and a couple of
Boers from the Transvaal, who had been gold pros-
pecting in Southern Siberia, became the best of
274 THE REAL SIBERIA.
friends with myself. We avoided any reference to
the war.
Twice there was an impromptu kind of concert on
board. Dreary, grey, snow-driven Siberia was all
around, but in that car, warm and light, with wine
bottles about, the air filled with smoke, and the
pianos jangling music-hall airs, we were the merriest
throng.
So day by day we rolled to the west, leaving
Siberia behind, chmbing the Ural mountains and
descending them into Europe. We left Irkutsk on
Friday evening, November 1st, at midnight, and on
Saturday evening, November 9th, 1901, we roared
into the great station at five minutes past seven,
exactly seven days, twenty-three hours, and fifty-five
minutes on the way — arriving to the minute by the
time-table — if allowance is made for the difference in
time between the two cities.
Moscow was brilliant with lights. It was all
wrapped in beautiful white, and hke silent meteors
there dashed thousands ot sledges up and down and
along its broad streets. To appreciate a Russian city,
you must see it in frosted winter glory. And Moscow,
one of the most striking of cities — quaint. Eastern,
Byzantine — was aglow with happiness and mirth.
So I ended my mission of curiosity.
I went to Russia with, at least, some of the average
Britisher's prejudices against the country. I came
away with none at all. There were things, of course,
which no Britisher can put up with, such as the
unflinching iron of autocratic government, that crushes
and kills all freedom in political thought. Whenever
I got an English newspaper, with great black splotches
A SLEEPING ROOM.
PRISONERS AT WORK.
THE HOMSWABD JOURNIHY. 275
by which the censor had obliterated criticisms of
Russia, I always felt like mounting a table in the hotel
dining-room and delivering an impassioned address
upon the hberty of the press. Smearing out criticisms
and sending boys to the hungry region of Yakutsk,
because they have boyish ideas of socialism, strike the
Britisher as puerile.
Russia, however, is an empire of contradictions. If
you try to study her along a parallel of Western
thought, you bungle and stumble, and are wroth.
The actions of a country, like the actions of a man,
should be judged from its own standpoint, and not
from the standpoint of another. Heaven forfend that
I, a scampering journalist, should play the dogmatist
But even a helter-skelter sightseer, if he keeps his eyes
very wide open, and stretches his ears to their fuU
length, may see and hear some things that give him a
ghmmering of vision of what is beneath the surface of
a nation's characteristics.
The fact of the matter is, as it struck me, Russia is
half Eastern, and the Eastern man doesn't understand
rule by reason. He only respects governments by
force. And honestly, knowing something of the
crookedness of the Eastern character, how absolute is
the lack among Russians of what I might call the
arrogance of race — which is revealed in the very walk
of a Saxon — how the Russian wants to be Western
and yet stamped across him there is the Hkeness of his
Tartar mother, and his nature restrains him, I hesitate
to think that an autocratic rule is not the best for
Russia. Many pressing reforms are undoubtedly
needed ; but they are reforms in detail and not in
principle.
276 TEE REAL SIBERIA
It was my fortune to come into contact with all
classes in Russia, from personal advisers to the
Emperor to moujiks undergoing imprisonment for
petty theft. Although corruption is rampant through-
out the public service, I am convinced you would not
stop it by establishing another form of government.
You would simply raise a different brood of vultures.
The towns have municipal representative control.
But, in a general sense, from the mayor to the lowest
scavenger, everyone has his price.
I saw evidence of what is called " Liberal Russia,"
people who are strongly imbued with Western ideas,
and are in a kind of passive revolt agaLost the Russian
mode of government. The word Nihilist is an obsolete
term, so I may call them Revolutionaries. Most of
them were charming people — cultured, widely read,
and fuU of kindness.
I liked them without admiring them. They argued
like emotional women: they were all love and
compassion for the human race, frenzied antipathy for
all restraint ; but they spoke of freedom in a way that
left the impression on my mind they did not under-
stand what the word implied.
Whenever I tried to get the conversation into a
fixed rut in what way Russians could be given a voice
in the government of their country, away they soared
into the air with generalities about the rights of man-
kind. They were delightful folks, but impracticable.
Now, as to Siberia, generally, I have made it clear
it is not a land waxing great in beautiful landscape.
There was much that interested me and had an
individual fascination, but from the time I left Moscow
till I reached Vladivostok, and from Vladivostok
TEJE HOMEWARD JOURNEY. 277
across Manchuria back to Moscow again, I never saw
a bit of country which in beauty could not be easily
rivalled during an afternoon's bicycle ride in Surrey.
Dismissing, however, the picturesque, and regard-
ing Russia and the wide stretch of Siberia from a
useful standpoint, I do not believe there is another
region in the world so full of agricultural possibilities.
People who talk enthusiastically about the wheat-
growing possibilities of the United States should
restrain their breath for when they come back to
speak of Siberia. It will be the ultimate feeding
ground of the world. But the Russian as a farmer
is contemptible. Here is a land that only wants to
be tilled; yet the Russian peasant is lazy, and
prefers to buy flour from Portland, Oregon, than
grow it himself I saw the ship-loads of American
flour being landed at Vladivostok.
And here again I must refer to the one Uttle sore
I felt all the time I was in Siberia — the way the
Germans and Americans are pushing forward and
supplying everything in the way of foreign goods
which the Siberians want, cloth stuffs, general mer-
chandise, railway locomotives, and agricultural
implements, while Britain has done nothing save
build a few ships. I must have met a hundred
German commercial travellers in Siberia; I never
met a single English commercial traveller. I talked
trade whenever opportunity presented, and the off-
hand manner in which England was always dismissed
as being, commercially, quite out of the running,
stung my patriotism deeper than was pleasant.
In previous chapters I have endeavoured to
describe Siberia as I saw it There was much in the
278 THM REAL SIBERIA.
country that Western folk might criticise, much that
raised more than a smile.
But if I were asked to express in one word what
were my impressions, I would write "favourable."
Whatever might be the evils of the convict system,
Eussia is removing them. The convicts are well
cared for, and as for the pohtical exiles, apart from
the hardship of exile, they are left much to their
own devices. I have been told by returned exiles
that the pleasantest part of their life was when
they were Hving in a httle republic of their own,
far from the outer world.
I am loth to destroy a delusion. But the popular
idea that it is hard for the foreigner to enter Russia,
that his steps are always dogged by the secret police,
that ears are at every keyhole, that every letter is
read by the censor, who is sniffing for a plot, that it
is necessary to keep one's tongue still if you don't
want to suddenly disappear, and your friends never
hear of you again — all this, and its like, is just a
bundle of rubbish.
There are certain things that Russia doesn't want
you to know, and they do their best not to let you
know. It is, of course, necessary to have a passport ;
but with the exception of handing it to the hotel-
keeper on the evening you arrive, and receiving it
back on the morning you leave, there is no more
trouble travelHng in Russia than in any other land.
Indeed, the foreigner is welcomed, and is given
privileges the Russian himself often finds it hard to
procure.
One word in conclusion.
Russia is no longer a second-rate power. She is
THE HOMEWARD JOURNEY. 279
in the front rank. Whatever be her methods, she
dominates the politics of the Far East, and has her
share in directing the pohtics of the world. Her
march is east and south, inevitable and unchecked.
It was Bismarck who described Russia as a
colossus on clay feet. But those feet have hardened
since the words were spoken. They have clattered to
the Pacific; they have clattered across Manchuria;
they are in Mongolia ; they are about Persia and
about China. Not yet — " Never ! " cries the Britisher
— but they hope some day to clatter through
Afghanistan to India.
India is what the statesman in St. Petersburg, look-
ing over his coffee and straight into your eyes, calls
" Russia's destiny." And when your eyes throw back
a defiance, he ofi'ers you a cigarette, smiles, and says
" We will see — in the future ! "
THE END.
PHINTED BY
OASSELL & COMPANY, LIMJTED, LA BELLE SAUTAQK,
LONDON, B.C.
20.601
A Selection
from
Cassell & Company's
Publications.
6 G — 6.(U<
A Selection Jrom Cassell & Company's Publtcattons.
Illustrated, Fine Art, and other Volumes.
Aconcagua and Tierra del Fuego.
A Book of Climbing, Travel, and
Exploration. By Sir Martin
Conway. With numerous Illustra-
tions from Photographs. 12s. 6d.net.
A Daughter of the Pit. By Mar-
garet Doyle Jackson. 6s.
Adventure, The World of. With
Stirring Pictures and 18 Coloured
Plates. In Three Vols., 55. each.
Adventures of Harry Revel, The.
By A. T. QUILLER-COUCH. 6s.
Aladdin O'Brien. By Gouverneur
Morris. 6s.
Alice of Old Vincennea. By
Maurice Thompson. 6s.
Alternate Currents, Notes on, for
Students. By H, H. Simmons,
A.M.I.E.E. Illustrated, is.6d.net.
America at Work. By John Foster
Fraser. Popular Edition, 3s. 6d.
Anarchism In Art. By E. Wake
Cook, is. net.
Angels, ajid Devils, and IVIan. By
Winifred Graham. 6s.
Animals, Popular History of. By
Henry Scherren, F.Z.S. With
13 Coloured Plates, &c. 6s.
Art, Sacred. With nearly acxj Full-
page Illustrations, gs.
Art, The Magazine of. With a Series
of Full-page Plates, and hundreds
of Illustrations. Yearly Vol. , 21s.
Artistic Anatomy. By Prof. M.
Duval. Cheap Edition. 3s. 6d.
AustraJian Goldflelds, My Adven-
tures on the. By W. Craig. 6s.
Australasia: the Britalns of the
South. By Philip Gibbs. With 4
Coloured Plates and numerous Illus-
trations, ss. 6d. School Edition,
IS. 8d.
AutomohUe, The. A Practical Trea-
tise on the Construction of Modern
Motor Cars: Steam, Pelrol, Elec-
tric, and Petrol Electric. Edited
by Paul N. Hasluck. With
804 Illustrations. 21s. net.
Avenger of Blood, The. By J.
Maclaren Cobban. 3s. 6d.
BaUads and Songs. By W. M.
Thackeray, Illustrated. 6s.
Ballads and Songs of Spain. By
Leonard Williams. 4s. net.
Birds' Nests, British : Hott, Where,
and When to Find and Identify
Them. By R. Kearton, F.Z.S.
Illustrated from Photographs direct
from Nature by C. Kearton. 21s.
Birds' Nests, Eggs, and Egg-Collect-
ing. By R. Kearton, F.Z.S.
With 22 Coloured Plates. 5s.
Birds, Our Barer British Breeding :
Their Nests, Eggs, and Breeding
Haunts. By R. Kearton, F.Z.S.
Illustrated from Photographs direct
from Nature by C. KEARTON.
Popular Edition, 3s. 6d.
Black Arrow, The. By R. L.
Stevenson. 6s. Popular Edition,
3s. 6d. Pocket Edition, cloth, 2s.
net ; leather, 3s. net.
Black Watch, The. The Record of
an Historic Regiment. By Archi-
bald Forbes, LL.D. With 8 Illus-
trations. Popular Edition. 3s. 6d.
Black, William, Novelist. By Sir
Wemyss Reid. With 3 Portraits,
los. 6d. net.
Boer War, Cassell's Illustrated
History of the. Two Vols., 21s.
Britain at Work. A Pictorial De-
scription of our National Industries.
By popular authors, and contain-
ing nearly 500 Illustrations. 12s.
Britain's Sea-Eings andSea-F^hts.
Profusely Illustrated. 7s. 6d.
Britain's RoU of Glory. By D. H.
Parry. New and Enlarged Edi-
tion. Illustrated. 5s.
" Britannia " Training Ship for
Naval Cadets, The Story of.
With some account of Previous
Methods of Naval Education, and
of the New Scheme established in
1903. By Commander E. P.
Statham, R.N. With numerous
Illustrations. 12s. 6d. net.
British Ballads. With 300 Original
Illustrations. Cheap Edition. Two
Vols, in One. Cloth, 7s. 6d.
British Battles on Land and Sea.
By James Grant, With about
800 Illustrations. Clieap Edition.
In Four Vols., 3s. 6d. each.
A Selection from Cassell ^f Company's Publications. 3
Britlsb Nigeria. By Lieut. -Col.
Mocklkr-Ferryman. With IWap
and 27 Illustrations. 12s. 6d. net.
British Sculpture and Sculptors of
To-day. By M. H. Spielmann.
Illustrated. 55. net; cloth, 7s. 6d. net.
Building World. Half-Yearly Vols. ,
4s, 6d. each.
Bulb Orowlng, Pictorial Practical.
By Walter P. Wright. With
numerous Illustrations. Paper
Covers, is. ; cloth, is. 6d,
Butterflies and Motlis of Europe,
The. By W. F. Kirby, F.L.S.,
F, E. S. With 54 Coloured Plates and
numerous Illustrations. 21s. net.
Cairo and the Khedive. Illustrated.
6d. net.
Campaigrn Pictures of the Wax in
South Africa (1899-1900). Letters
from the Front By A. G. Hales.
es.
Canaries and Cage-Birds, The Illus-
trated Boole of. With 56 Coloured
Plates, 3SS, ; half-morocco, £2 5s.
Cassell's magazine. Half - Yearly
Volume, ss. ; Yearly Volume, 8s.
Cat, The Book of The. By Frances
Simpson. With 12 Full-page
Plates in Colour and numerous
Illustrations. 15s. net.
Cathedrals, Abbeys, and Churches
of England and Wales. Descrip-
tive, Historical, Pictorial Fine
Art Edition, Three Vols., £3 3s.
the set,
Catrlona. By R. L. Stevenson.
6s. Popular Edition, 3s. 6d.
Pociet Edition, cloth, 2s. net ;
leather, 3s, net.
Chinese Pictures. Notes on Photo-
graphs made in China. By Mrs.
Bishop, F.R.G.S. (Isabella Bird).
With 60 Illustrations. 3s. 6d.
Chrysanthemum Culture, Pic-
torial Practical. By Walter P.
Wright. Paper covers, is. ;
cloth, IS. 6d.
Chums. The Illustrated Paper for
Boys. Yearly Volume, 8s.
Clinical manuals for Practitioners
and Students of Medicine. A List
of Volumes forwarded post free on
application to the Publishers.
Cloistering of Ursula, The. By
Clinton Scollakd, 6s.
[ Clyde, Cassell's Pictorial Guide to
the. With Coloured Plate and 3
Maps. Cloth, IS.
Colour. By Prof. A. H. Church.
With Coloured Plates. 3s. 6d.
Conning Tower, In a; or. How I took
H.M.S. "Majestic" into Action. By
the Rt. Hon. H. O. Arnold-For-
STER.M.A. IUustrated.6d.; cloth, is.
Cookery, a Year's. By Phyllis
Browne. Cheap Edition, is. net.
Cookery Book, Cassell's Universal
By Lizzie Heritage. New Edi-
tion, With 12 Coloured Plates. 6s.
Cookery, Cassell's Dictionary ot
With about 9,000 Recipes. 5s.
Cookery, Cassell's Shilling, is.
Cookery for Common Ailments, is.
Cookery, Vegetarian. By A. G.
Payne. Cheap Edition, is.
Cooking by Gas, The Art of. By
Marie J. Sugg. Illustrated. 25.
Coronation Book of Edward vn..
King of All the Britains and
Emperor of India, The. By W. J.
Loftie, B.A., F.S.A. With 24
Coloured Plates and numerous
Illustrations. Sumptuously Illumin-
ated in Gold and Colours. los. 6d.
Cupid's Garden. By Ellen Thor-
neycroft Fowler. 3s. 6d. Peo-
ples Edition, 6d.
Cyclopsedla, Cassell's Miniature.
Containing 30,000 subjects. Cheap
and Revised Edition, Limp cloth,
IS.; cloth gilt, IS. 6d.
" Death or Glory Boys," The. The
Story of the 17th Lancers. By
D. H. Parry. With 8 Illustrations.
New and Enlarged Edition. 5s.
Despoilers, The. By Edmund
Mitchell. 6s.
Dictionary of FracticaJ Gardening,
Cassell's. Edited by Walter P.
Wright. With 20 Coloured Plates
and several hundreds of Illustrations
from Photographs taken direct from
Nature. "Two Vols., half-leather,
gilt top, 30S. net.
Doings of Rafles Haw, The. By
A. CONAN Doyle. 3s. 6d.
4 A Selection from Cassell df Company's Publications.
Domtaiou of tlie Air, TI16 : Tlie
story of Aerial Navigation. By
the Rev. J. M. Bacon. With
numerous Illustrations from Photo-
graphs. 6s.
Dor6 Don Quixote, The. With
about 400 Illustrations by Gus-
TAVE DORE. Cheap Edition.
Cloth, los. 6d.
Dor6 Gallery, The. With 250 Illus-
trations by Gust AVE Dore. 42s.
Dora's Dants's Inferno. Illustrated
by GUSTAVE DOR^. Large 410
Edition, cloth gilt, 21s.
Dore's Dante's Purgatory and Parsu-
dise. Illustrated by Gust AVE DORE.
Cheap Edition. 7s. 6d.
Sort's liililton's Paradise lost. Illus-
trated by Dor4. 4to, 21S. Popular
Edition. Cloth or bucltram, 7s. 6d.
Cheap Edition. In One Vol., I2s.6d.
DUke Decides, The. By Headon
Hill. Illustrated. 6s.
Earth's Beginning, The. By Sir
Robert Ball, LL.D. Illustrated.
7s. 6d.
Earth, Our, and its Story. By Dr.
Robert Brown, F.L.S. With
Coloured Plates and numerous En-
gravings. Cheap Edition. Three
Vols., ss. each.
Electricity, Practical. By Prof. W.
E. Ayeton, F.R.S. New and
Enlarged Edition, 7s. 6d.
Empire, The. Containing nearljr 700
Splendid full-page Illustrations.
Complete in Two Vols. 9s. each,
Encyclopsedic Dictionary, The. In
7 Vols., half-morocco, ^7 7s. per
set. Supplementary Volume, cloth,
7s. 6d.
England and Wales, Pictorial. Wi th
upwards of 320 Illustrations from
Photographs. 9s.
England, A History ot From the
Landing of Julius Caesar to the
Present Day. By the Rt. Hon.
H. O. Arnold- Forster, M.A.
Fully Illustrated. 5s, Cloth gilt,
gilt edges, 6s. 6d.
English Dictionary, Cassell's. Giving
Definitions of more than 100,000
Words and Phrases. 3s. 6d.
English Earthenware and Stone-
ware. By William Burton,
Author of " English Porcelain,"
&c. Containing 24 Plates in
Colours, and 54 Black and White
Plates, with numerous reproduc-
tions of the various marks. 30s.
net. This Edition is limited to
1,450 copies.
English History, The Dictionary of.
Edited by Sidney Low, B.A., and
Prof. F. S. Pulling, M.A. 7s. 6d.
English Literature, Horley's First
Sketch of. 7s. 6d.
English Literature, The Story of.
By Anna Buckland. 3s. 6d.
English Writers. By Prof. Henry
Morley, Vols. I. to XI., ss. each.
Fact versus Fiction. The Cobden
Club's Reply to Mr. Chamberlain.
IS. net.
FamUiar Butterflies and Moths.
By W. F. KlRBY, F.L.S. With
18 Coloured Plates. 6s.
Familial Wild Birds. By W.Swr ays-
land. With Coloured Pictures by
A. Thorburn and others. Cheap
Edition, Four Vols., 3s. 6d. each.
Family Doctor, Cassell's. By A
Medical Man. illustrated. 6s.
Family Lawyer, Cassell's. By A
BARRISTER-AT-LAVy. lOS. 6d.
Far East, The New. By Arthur
DidsY, F.R.G.S. Popular Edition.
Illustrated. 3s. 6d.
Field Hospital, The Tale of a. By
Sir Frederick Treves, Bart.,
K.C.V.O., C.B., F.R.C.S. With
14 Illustrations. 55. Leather, 63.
Field Naturalist's Handbook, The.
By the Revs. J. G. Wood and
Theodore Wood. Cheap Edition,
paper covers, is. ; cloth, is. 6d,
Interleaved Edition for Notes, 2S,
Flame of Fire, A. By Joseph
Hocking. 3s. 6d.
Franco-German War, Cassell's His-
tory of the. Complete in Two
Vols. Containing about 500 Illus-
trations. Cheap Edition. 6s. each.
Fruit Growing, Pictorial Practical.
By W. P. Wright. Illustrated.
Paper covers, is. ; cloth, is. 6d.
A Selection from Cassell 6* Company's Publications. 5
Garden Flowers, FamUiar. By F.
Kdward Hulme, F.L.S., F.S.A.
With 200 Full-page Coloured Plates.
Cheap Edition. In Five Vols.,
3S. 6d, each.
Garden of Swords, The. By Max
Pemberton. 6s. Peoples Edition,
6d.
Gardener, The. Yearly Volume. Pro-
fusely Illustrated. 7s. 6d.
Gardening, Pictorial Practical. By
W. P. Wright. With upwards
of 140 Illustrations. Paper covers,
IS. ; cloth, IS. 6d.
Gazetteer of Great Britain and Ire-
land, Cassell's. With numerous
Illustrations and 60 Maps. Six
Vols., 5s. each.
Giant's Gate, The. By Max Pem-
berton. 6s. People's Edition, 6d.
Girl at Cobhnrst, The. By Frank
Stockton. 3s. 6d.
Gladys Fane. A Story of Two Lives.
By Sir Wemyss Reid. 3s. 6d.
Gleaning^s ftom Popular Authors.
Illustrated. Cheap Edition, 3s. 6d.
Golden Tips. A Description of
Ceylon and its Great Tea Industry.
By Henry W. Cave, M.A.,
F.R.G.S. Illustrated from Photo-
graphs by the Author. los. 6d.
net.
Greenhouse Management, Pic-
torial. By Walter P. Wright,
Editor of "The Gardener," &c.
With nearly 100 Illustrations. Paper
covers, is. ; cloth, is, 6d.
Gulliver's Travels. With upwards
of 100 Illustrations. New Fine
Art Edition. 7s. 6d.
Gun and its Development, The.
By W. W. Greener. With 500
Illustrations. Entirely New Edi-
tion, los. 6d.
Handyman's Book, The, of Tools,
Materials, and Processes em-
ployed in Woodworking. Edited
by Paul N. Hasluck, With
about 2,500 Illustrations. 9s.
Heavens, The Story of the. By Sir
Robert Ball, LL.D. With
Coloured Plates, Popular Edition.
tos, 6d.
Her Majesty's Tower. By Hep-
worth Dixon. With an Intro-
duction by W. J. LOFTIE, B.A. ,
F.S.A., and containing i6 Coloured
Plates specially prepared for this
Edition by H. E. Tidmarsh.
Popular Edition. Two Vols., 12s.
the set.
Heroes of Britain in Peace and
War. With 300 Original Illustra-
tions. Cheap Edition, Complete
in One Vol. 3s. 6d.
Holbein's " AmbaBsadors " Unrid-
dled. The Counts Palatine Otto
Henry and Philipp. A Key to
other Holbeins. By William
FftEDEEiCK DiCKES. Illustrated,
los. 6d. net.
Houghton, Lord : The Life, Letters,
and Friendships of Richard
Monckton Milnes, First Lord
Houghton. By Sir Wemyss Reid.
InTwoVols. .withTwo Portraits. 32s.
Hygiene and Public Health. By
B. Arthur Whitelegge, M.D.
7S. 6d.
la: A Love Story. By A. T.
Quiller-Couch (Q). 3s. 6d.
Impregnable City, The. By Max
Pemberton. 3s. 6d.
India, Cassell's History of. In One
Vol. Cheap Edition. Illustrated.
7s. 6d.
India: Our Eastern Empire. By
Philip Gibes. With 4 Coloured
Plates and numerous Illustrations,
as. 6d. Scliool Edition, is. 8d.
In Eoyal Purple. By William
PiGOTT. 6s.
Iron Pirate, The. By Max Pember-
ton. 3s. 6d. People's Edition, 6d.
John Gayther's Garden. By Frank
Stockton. 6s.
Joseph's Letters upon Egypt
Nos. I, 2 & 3. 6d. net each.
Eate Bonnet: The Romance of a
Pirate's Daughter. By Frank
R. Stockton. With 8 lUuctra-
tions. 6s.
Khedive's Country, The. The Nile
Valley and its Products. Edited
by G. Manville Fenn. Illus-
trated. 5s.
6 A Selection /rom Cassell &' Company s Publications.
Kidnapped. By R. L. Stevenson.
3s. 6d. People's Edition, (A. Pocket
Edition, cloth, 2s. net; leather,
3s. net.
EUogram, The Coming of the ; or,
The Battle of the Standards. By
the Rt. Hon. H. O. Arnold-For-
STER, M.A. Illustrated. Cheap
Edition. 6d.
King Solomon's Mines. By H.
Rider Haggard. Illustrated.
3s. 6d. People's Edition, 6d.
Kiss of the Enemy, The. By
Headon Hill. 6s.
Koreans at Home. By Constance
J. D. Tayler. With 6 Plates in
Coloiur and 24 in Black and White.
3s. 6d.
Kronstadt. By Max Pemberton. 6s.
Ladies' Physician, The. By A
London Physician. 3s, 6d.
Laird's Luck, The, and other Fireside
Tales. By A. T. Quiller-Couch
(Q). 6s.
Land of the Dons, The. By
Leonard Williams, Author of
" Ballads and Songs of Spain," &c.
With about 42 Illustrations, iss.net.
Landels, WUliam, D.D. A Memoir.
By his Son, the Rev. Thomas D.
Landels, M.A. With Portrait. 6s.
Landscape Fainting in Water-
Colour. By J. MacWhirter,
R.A. With 23 Coloured Plates, ss.
Lepidus the Centurion : A Roman
of To-day. By Edwin Lester
Arnold. 6s.
Letts's Diaries and other Time-
saving Fuhlications published
exclusively by Cassell & Com-
pany. (A list free on application.)
Li Hung-chang. By Mrs. Archi-
bald Little. With Rembrandt
Frontispiece and 3 Full-page Plates.
153. net.
List, Ye Landsmen! By W. Clark
Russell. 3s. 6d.
Little Huguenot, The. By Max
Pemberton. New Edition, is. 6d.
Little Minister, The. By J. M.
Bareie, Illustrated. Cheap Edi-
tion. 3s. 6d.
Little Novioe.The. ByALixKiNG. 6s.
Little Squire, The. By Mrs. Henry
DE la Pasture. 3s. 6d.
London, Cassell's Guide to. Illus-
trated. New Edition, 6d. ; cloth, is.
London, Greater. Two Vols. With
about 400 Illustrations. Cheap
Edition. 4s. 6d. each.
London, Old and New. Six Vols..
With about 1,200 Illustrations and
Maps. Cheap Edition. 4s. 6d. each.
London, Bambles In and Near. By
W. J. Loftie, F.S.A. Illustrated.
Popular Edition, 6s.
Lord Protector, The. By S.
Levett-Yeats. 6s.
Loveday. By A. E.Wickham. 3s. 6d.
Man's Mirror, A. By Emily Pear-
son Finnemore. 6s.
Man in Black, The. By Stanley
Weyman. 3s. 6d.
Marie- Eve. By Marian Bower. 6s.
Marine Fainting in Water-Colour.
By W. L. Wyllie, A.R.A. With
24 Coloured Plates, js.
Masque of Days, A. With 40 pages
of Designs in Colour by Walter
Crane. 6s.
Master of Eallantrae. By R. L.
Stevenson. 6s. Popular Edition,
3s. 6d. Pocket Edition, limp cloth,
2S. net ; leather, 3s. net.
Mechanics, Cassell's Cyclopsedia ofl
Edited by Paul N. Hasluck.
Profusely Illustrated. Series i, 2,
and 3, each complete in itself.
7s. 6d. each.
Medicine, Manuals for Students of.
{A list forwarded post free.)
MUitary Forces of the Crown.
Their Organisation and Equip-
ment. By Colonel W. H. Daniel.
Illustrated, 5s.
Music, Illustrated History of. By
Emil Naumann. Edited by the
Rev. Sir F. A. Gore Ouseley,
Bart. Illustrated. Cheap Edition.
Two Vols. i8s.
Musk of Boses. By Mary L.
Pendered. 6s.
Nat Harlowe, Mountebank, By
George R. Sims. With 16 Illus-
trations. 3s. 6d,
National Gallery Catalogue. Pro-
fusely Illustrated. 6d. net.
A Selection from Cassell & Company s Ptibltcations. 7
National Gallery of British Art (The
Tate Gallery), The Catalogue
of the. Containing numeroas Illus-
trations, and a List of all the Pictures
exhibited. 6d. net.
National Library, Cassell's. 3d.
and 6d. List post free on appli-
cation. New and Improved Issue,
in weekly volumes, 6d. net.
National Portrait Gallery. Edited
by Lionel Cust, M.A., F.S.A.
Illustrating every Picture in the
National Portrait Gallery. Two
Vols. £6 6s. net
Nation's Pictures, The. Complete in
4 Vols. Each containing 48 Beau-
tiful Coloured Reproductions of
some of the finest Modern Paintings
in the Public Picture Galleries of
Great Britain, with descriptive Text.
Cloth, I2S. ; half-leather, 15s. each.
Natural History, Cassell's. Ckeap
Edition. With about 2,000 Illus-
trations. In Three Double Vols.
6s. each.
Natural History, Cassell's Concise.
By E. Perceval Wright, M.A.,
M.D., F.L.S. With several Hun-
dred Illustrations. 7s. 6d.
Nature and a Camera, With. By
Richard Kearton, F.Z.S. With
Frontispiece, and 180 Pictures from
Photographs direct from Nature by
C. Kearton. Cheap Edition.
7s. 6d.
Nature's Eiddles. By H. W.
Shepheaed-Walwyn, M.A., &c.
With numerous Illustrations. 6s.
Neho the Nailer. By S. Baring-
Gould. 6s.
O'ConneU, Daniel, The Life of.
By Michael MacDonagh. With
Rembrandt Frontispiece. i5s. net.
Old Fires and Profitable Ghosts.
By A. T. Quillee-Couch (Q). 6s.
"Ophir," With the, round the
Empire. With 24 Illustrations. By
Wm. Maxwell. 6s.
Our Bird Friends. By R. Kearton,
F.Z.S. With 100 Illustrations from
Photographs direct from Nature by
C. Kearton. ss.
Our Own Country. With 1,200
Illustrations. Cheap Edition, Three
Double Vols. ss. each.
Oxford, Reminiscences of. By the
Rev. W. Tuckwell, M.A, .With
16 Full-page Illustrations, gs.
Painting, Practical Guides to. With
Coloured Plates : —
China PAINTING, ss.
Neutral Tint. 5s.
FLOWERS, AND HOW TO PAINT THEM. 5s.
Manual of Oil fainting, bs. €d,
MacWhirter's Landscape Painting in
Water-colour. 5s.
Wyllie's marine painting in Water
colour. 5S.
Paris, Cassell's Illustrated Guide to.
Paper, 6d.; cloth, is.
Peel, Sir R. By Lord Rosebery.
2S. 6d.
Penny Magazine, The. With about
650 Illustrations. In Quarterly
Volumes, as. 6d. each.
Peoples of the World, Tho. By Dr.
Robert Brown. In Six Vols.
Illustrated. 3s. 6d. each.
Peril and Patriotism. True Tales
of Heroic Deeds and Startling
Adventures. Two Vols, in One. ss.
Pictorial Scotland and Ireland.
With 320 Copyright Illustrations
from Photographs. 9s.
Pictures of Many Wars. By Fred-
eric Vilhers. 6s.
Picturesque America. In Four Vols.,
with 48 Steel Plates and 800 Wood
Engravings. ^^12 12s. the set.
Popular Edition. i8s. each.
Picturesque Canada. With 600
Original Illustrations. Two Vols.
£ij gs. the set.
Picturesque Europe. Popular Edi-
tion. The Continent. In Three
Vols. Each containing 13 Litho
Plates and nearly 200 Illustrations.
6s. each.
Pictnxesque Mediterranean, The.
With Magnificent Illustrations by
leading Artists. Complete in Two
Vols, £a 2s. each.
Pigeons, Fulton's Book of. Edited
by Lewis Wright. Revised and
Supplemented by the Rev. W. F.
LuMLEy. With 50 Full-page Illus-
trations. Popular Edition. los. 6d.
Original Edition, with 50 Coloured
Plates and numerous Wood En-
gravings. 21S.
Planet, The Story of Our. By Prof.
BONNEY, F.R.S. With Coloured
Plates and Maps and about 100
Illustrations, Cheap Edition, 7s, 6d.
8 A Selection from Cassell & Company's Publications.
Playfair, Lyxm, Pirst Lord Playfair
of St Andrews, Memoirs and Cor-
respondence o£ By Sir Wemyss
Reid. With Two Portraits. Cheap
Edition. 7s. 6d.
Poultry, The Book of. By Lewis
Weight. Popular Edition. los. 6d,
Ponltry, The New Book of. By
Lewis Wkight. With 30 Coloured
Plates by J. W. Ludlow, and other
Illustrations. 21s.
Poultrs' Keeper, The Praotioal By
Lewis Wright. With Eight
Coloured Plates and numerous
Illustrations. 3s. 6d.
Postcards, Cassell's Art. 3 Series,
each containing reproductions of
six of Barnard's Character Sketches
from Dickens. 6d. each Series.
4 Series Nation's Pictures, each
containing six beautiful reproduc-
tions in colour of Standard Works
of Art 6d. each Series. The
Tower of London series, six views
reproduced in colour from drawings
by H. E. Tidmarsh. Views of
London series, six views reproduced
in colour from the original drawings
by Charles Wilkinson.
Profltahle Home Farming, specially
adapted to Occupants of Small
Homesteads. By ' Yeoman.' is. ;
cloth, IS. 6d.
Q's Works, ss- each.
t»DEAD Man's rock.
t*THE SPLENDID SPUR.
tXHE Astonishing history of troy
Town.
"I SAW Three ships," and other Winter's
Tales.
NOUGHTS AND CROSSES.
THE Delectable duchy,
WANDERING HEATH.
• Also at 3S. 6d. t Also PeofUs Editions at 6d.
Queen's London, Tbe. Containing
about 450 Exquisite Views of Lon-
don and its Environs, gs.
Queen Victoria. A Personal Sketch.
By Mrs. Oliphant. With Three
Rembrandt Plates and other Illus-
trations. 3s. 6d, Also ss.| half-
morocco.
Eailway Guides, Official With Illus-
trations, Maps, &c. Price is. each ;
or in Cloth, is. 6d. each.
London and North Western Railway.
Great western railway.
Midland railway.
Great northern railway.
Great Easi'ern railway.
London and south Western railway.
London, Brighton and south coast
RAILWAY.
South Eastern AND Chatham Railway.
Red Mom. By Max Pemberton,
With 8 Illustrations. 6s.
Rivers of Great Britain: Descriptive,
Historical, Pictorial.
Rivers oftheSouthand West coasts.
Po/>tt!ar Edition, i6s.
Rivers of the East Coast. Poputar
Edition. z6s.
Rogue's March, Tlie. By E. W.
HORNUNG. 3S. 6d.
Royal Academy Pictures. Annual
Volume. 7s. 6d.
Ruskin, Jolrn: A Sketch of His Life,
His Work, and His Opinions, 'with
Personal Reminiscences, By M.
H. Spielmann. ss.
Saturday Journal, Cassell's. Yearly
Volume, cloth, 7s. 6d.
Scales of Heaven, The. Narrative,
Legendary and Meditative. With
a few Sonnets. By the Rev. Fred-
erick Langbeidge. 5s.
Science Series, The Century. Con-
sisting of Biographies of Eminent
Scientific Men of the present Cen-
tury. Edited by Sir Henry ROSCOE,
D.C.L., F.R.S. Crown 8vo. New
Edition. 9 Vols. 2s. 6d. each.
Science for All. Edited by Dr.
Robert Brown. Cheap Edition.
In Five Vols. 3s. 6d. each.
Scientific Truth, The Criterion of.
By George Shann. is. 6d.
Sea, The Story of the. Edited by Q.
Illustrated. In Two Vols. gs. each.
Cheap Edition, ss. each.
Sea Wolves, The. By Max Pember-
ton. 3s. 6d. People's Edition, 6d.
Sentimental Tommy. By J. M
Baeeie. Illustrated. 6s.
Shaftesbury, The Seventh Earl oi;
E.6., The Life and Work of. By
Edwin Hodder. Cheap Edition.
3s. 6d.
Shakespeare,The Plays of. Edited by
Professor Henry Moeley. Com-
plete in Thirteen Vols., cloth, 21s. ;
also 3g Vols. , cloth, in box, 21s.
Shakespeare, The Ei^^land of. New
Edition. By E. GoADBY. With
Full-page Illustrations, as. 6d.
Shakspere, The Leopold. With 400
Illustrations. Cheap Edition. 3s. 6d.
Cloth gilt, gilt edges, S^' '< l^alf-
persian, 53. 6d. net.
ShaJispere, The RoyaL With 50
Full-page Illustrations. Complete
in Three Vols. ijs. the set.
•Ship of Stars, The. By A. T.
Quillee-Couch (Q). 6s.
A Selection from Cassell & Company's Publications, 9
Siberia, The KeaL By J. Foster
Feaser. With numerous Illus-
trations from Photographs. Popu-
lar Edition, 3s. 6cl,
Sigbts and Scenes in Oxford City and
University. Described by Thomas
Whittaker, B.A. With 100 Illus-
trations after Original Photographs.
Popular Edition, los. 6d. net.
Social England. A Record of the
Progress of the People. By various
Writers. Edited by H. D. Traill,
D.C.L., and J. S. Mann, M.A.
New Illustrated Edition in Six
Vols. Vols. I. to V. , 14s. net each.
Sports and Pastimes, Oassell's
Book of. With numerous Illus-
trations. Ne-i< Edition. 3s. 6d.
Sports of tlie World. Edited by
F. G. Aflalo, F.R.G.S., F,Z.S.
With several hundreds of New and
Original Illustrations, izs.
Standard Library, Cassell's. is. net
each. (List free on application.)
Star-Land. By Sir Robert Ball,
LL.D. Illustrated. New and En-
larged Edition. 7s. 6d.
Sun, The Story of the. By Sir
Robert Ball, LL.D. With Eight
Coloured Plates and other Illus-
trations. Cheap Edition. los. 6d.
Swiss Family Robinson. In wor^
of one syllable. 6d.
Technical Instruction. A Series of
Practical Volumes. Edited by P.
N. Hasluck. Illustrated, as. each.
Practical Staircase Joinery.
Practical metal plate work;
PRACTICAL Gas Fitting.
Practical draughtsmen's Work.
PRACTICAL Graining and marbling.
Toledo ajid Madrid : Their Eecotds
and Romances. By Leonard
Williams. With 55 Illustrations.
I2S. 6d. net.
Illustrated Magazines
THE QUIVER. Monthly, 6d.
CASSELL'S KASAZINE. Monthly, 6d.
UTTLE FOLKS. Monthly, 6d.
THE PENNY MAGAZINE. Weekly,
id. ; Monthly, 6d.
CASSELL'S SATURDAY JOURNAL.
Weekly, id.; Monthly, 6d.
CASSELL & company,
Tidal Thames, The. ■ By Grant
Allen. With India Proof Im-
pressions of 20 magnificent Full-
page Photogravure Plates, and with
many other Illustrations in the Text
after Original Drawings by W. L.
Wyllie, A.R.A. 42s. net.
Tommy and Grizel. By J. M. Barrie.
6s.
Tomorrow's Tangle. By Geraldine
Bonner. 6s.
Treasttrelsland. By R. L. Stevenson.
Cheap Illustrated Edition. 3s. 6d.
Turner, J. M. W., E.A., The Water-
Colour Sketches of, in the
National Gallery. With 58 Fac-
simile Reproductions " in Colour,
comprising the rivers of France —
the Seine — the rivers of England, the
ports of England. The descrip-
tive text written by THEODORE A.
Cook, M.A., F.S.A. ^^3 3s. net.
"Unicode": The Universal Tele-
graphic Phrase Book. Desk or
Pocket Edition. 2S. 6d.
Westminster Abbey, Annals of. By
E. T. Bradley (Mrs. A. Murray
Smith). Illustrated. Cheap Edition.
21S.
Wild Flowers, Familiar. By F.
Edward Hulme, F.L.S., F.S.A.
With 240 beautiful Coloured Plates.
Cheap Edition. In Seven Volumes.
3s. 6d. each.
Wild Nature's Ways. By R. Kear-
TON, F.Z.S. With 200 Illustra-
tions from Photographs by the
Author and C. Kearton. ios. 6d.
"Work" Handbooks. Edited by
Paul N. Hasluck, Editor of
Work. Illustrated, is. each.
Wrecker, The. By R. L. Stevenson.
6s. Popular Edition, 3s. 6d.
and Practical Journals.
CHUMS. The Paper for Boys.
Weekly, id.; Monthly, 6d.
TINY TOTS. For the Very Little
Ones. Monthly, id.
WORK. Weekly, id.; Monthly, 6d.
BUILDING WORLD. Weekly, id.;
Monthly, 6d.
THE GARDENER. Weekly, id.
Limited, Ludgatt nili, London.
10 A Selection from Cassell &' Company'' s Publications.
Bibles and Religious Works.
Aids to Practical Religion. Selec-
tions from the Writings and Ad-
dresses of W. Boyd Carpenter,
Lord Bishop of Ripon. By the
Rev. J. H. Burn, B.D., F.R.S.E.
3S. 6d.
Atonement, The. By William
Connor Magee, D.D., late
Archbishop of York.
Bible Biographies. Illus. is.6d. each.
THE STORY OF MOSES AND JOSHUA. By
the Rev. J. Telford.
THE Story of the Judges. By the Rev.
J. Wychffe Gedge.
THE STORY OF SAMUEL AND SAUL. By the
Rev. D. C. Tovey.
THE STORY OF DAVID. By the Rev. J. Wild,
THE STORY OF JOSEPH. Its Lessons for
To-day. By the Rev. George Sainton.
THE STORY OF jESUS. In Verse. By J. R.
Macduir, D.D.
Bible Commentary for English
Readers. Edited by Bishop Elli-
COTT. With Contributions by
eminent Scholars and Divines : —
NEW TESTAMENT. Popular Edition. Uo*
abridged. Three Vols. 6s. each.
Old Testament. Popit'ar Ediiion, XJn-
abrideed. Five Vols. 6s. each,
SPECIAL POCKET EDITIONS. 3S. each,
Bible Dictionary, Cassell's Concise,
By the Rev, Robert Hunter,
LL.D. Illustrated. Cheap EdUion.
3S. fid-
Bible Student in the EritishlVEuseum,
The. By the Rev. J. G. Kitchin,
M.A. Neva and Revised Edition.
IS. 4d,
Child's Bible, The. With loo Illus-
trations and Coloured Plates. New
Ediiion. los. 6d.
Child "Wonderful," The. A Series of
9' Pictures in colours by W. S.
Stacey, illustrating incidents in
the Life of Christ, as. 6d.
Churoli of England, The. A History
for the People. By the Very Rev.
H. D. M. Spence, D.D., Dean pf
Gloucester. Illustrated. Complete
in Four Vols. 6s. each.
Church Reform in Spain and Portu-
gal. By the Rev. H. E, NOYES,
D,D. Illustrated. 23. 6d.
Early Christianity and Paganism.
By the Very Rev. H. D. Spence,
D.D. Illustrated. Clieap Edition.
7S. 6d.
Early Days of Christianity, The.
By the Very Rev. Dean Farrar,
D.D., F.R.S. Library Edition.
Two Vols., 24s. ; morocco, £'i 2s.
Popular Edition. Complete in
One Volume. Cloth, gilt edges,
7S. 6d. Cheap Edition. Cloth gilt,
3s. 6d. ; paste grain, 5s. net.
Family Frayer-Book, The. Edited
by the Rev. Canon Garbett,
M.A., and Rev. S. Martin. With
Full-page Illustrations. 7s. 6d.
Gleanings after Harvest. Studies
and Sketches by the Rev. John R.
Vernon, M.A. Illustrated. Cheap
Edition. 3s. 6d.
" Graven in the Rock." By the Rev.
Dr. Samuel Kinns, F.R.A.S.
Illustrated. Library Edition. Two
Vols. 15s.
" Heart Chords." A Series of Works
by Eminent Divines, is. each.
MY COMFORT IN SORROW, By Hugh Mac-
millan, D.D,
MY BIBLE. By the Right Rev. W. Boyd
Carpenter, Bishop or Ripon;
MY FATHER. By the Right Rev. Ashton
Oxenden, late Blsnop of Montreal.
My Work for God. By the Right Rev
Bishop Cottetill.
My Emotional Lifb. By the Rev. Preb
Chadwiclc, D.D.
MY GROWTH IN Divine Life. By the Rev
Preb. Reynolds, M.A,
My soul. By the Rev. P. B. Power, M.A
MV Hereafter. By the Very Rev. Dean
Bickersteth.
My Aid to the divine life. By the Very
Rev. Dean Boyle.
My Sources of strength. By the Rev.
E. E. Jenkins, M.A.
Mv Walk with God. By the Very Rev.
Dean Montgomery.
Holy Land and the Bible. A Book
of Scripture Illustrations gathered
in Palestine. By the Rev. Cun-
ningham Geikib, D.D. Cheap
Edition. 7s. 6d. Superior Edition.
With 24 Plates. Cloth gilt, gilt
edges, los. 6d. " Quiver" Edition.
Abridged by the Author. With 3
Full-page Illustrations, 2s. 6d, net.
A Selection from Cassell &• Company's Publications. II
Ufe of Christ, The. By the Very
Rev. Dean Farrah. Cheap
Edition. With i6 Full-page Plates.
3s. 6d. ; paste grain, s^- net.
Illustrated Quarto Edition. Cloth
gilt, gilt edges, 7s. 6d. Biographi-
cal Edition, los. 6d. net. Original
Illustrated Edition, 3is.
Life of Lives, The: Further Studies
in the Life of Christ. By Dean
Farrar. 15s. Popular Edition,
7S. 6d.
Life and Work of the Redeemer.
Illustrated. "Quiver" Edition.
With 8 Full-page Illustrations.
2S. 6d. net.
Limits of Episcopal Authority, The.
By "Lex." Price 6d.
Matin and Vesper Bells. Earlier
and Later Collected Poems
(Chiefly Sacred). By J. R. Mac-
duff, D.D. Two Vols. 7s. 6d,
the set.
Methodism, Side Lights on the
Conflicts of. During the Second
Quarter of the Nineteenth Century,
1827-1852. From the Notes of the
late Rev. Joseph Fowler of the
Debates of the Wesleyan Con-
ference. Cloth, 8s. Popular Edi-
tion. Unabridged. Cloth, 3s. 6d.
Miracles. By the Rev. Brownlow
Maitland, M.A. is.
Moses and Geology; or. The Har-
mony of the Bible with Science.
By the Rev. Samuel Kinns,
Ph.D.,F.R.A.S. Illustrated. ios.6d.
neL
Pilgrim's Progress, The. By John
BUNYAN. Superior Edition. With
Notes by the Rev. Robert
Maguire, M.A., and containing
numerous Illustrations by H. C.
Selous and M. Paolo PsioLa
3s, 6d.
Plain Introductions to the Books
of the Old Testament. Edited by
Bishop Ellicott. 3s. 6d.
Plain Introductions to the Books
of the New Testament. Edited
by Bishop Ellicott. 3s. 6d.
Protestantism, The History of,
By the Rev. J. A. WvLiE, LL.D.
Containing upwards of 600 Orig-
inal Illustrations. Cheap Edition.
Three Vols, s^- each.
Quiver Postcards. Set of ij Pic-
tures entitled " Fair Flowers of
British Womanhood." 6d.
Quiver Yearly Volume, The. With
about 900 Original Illustrations.
7s. 6d.
St. Paul, The Life and Work of,
By the Very Rev. Dean Farrar.
Cheap Edition. With 16 Full-page
Plates, 3s. 6d. ; paste grain, 53.
net ; Popular Edition, 7s. 6d. ;
Illustrated 4/0 Edition, 7s. 6d. ;
Original Illustrated Edition, ^faas.
"Six Hundred Years"; or. His-
torical Sketches of Eminent Men
and Women who have more or less
come into contact with the Abbey
and Church of Holy Trinity,
Minories, from 1293 to 1893. With
6s Illustrations. By the Vicar, the
Rev. Dr. Samuel Kinns. ios. 6d.
net.
" Sunday," Its Origin, History, and
Present Obligation. By the Ven.
Archdeacon Hessey, D.C.L. Fi/ih
Edition. 7s. 6d.
12 A Selection from Cassell &' Company's Publications.
Educational Works and Students' Manuals,
£sop's Fables. In 'words of one
syllable. With 4 Coloured Plates
and numerous Illustrations. 6d.
Alplialiet, Cassell's Pictorial, zs.
and 2s. 6d.
Areliitectural Drawing. R. Phen^
Spiers. With 26 Plates. New
Edition. 7s. 6d, net.
Atlas, Cassell's Popular. Contain-
ing 24 Coloured Maps. is. 6d.
Elackhoard Drawing. By W. E.
SPARKES. Illustrated. 3s. 6d.
Eiushwork Series, Cassell's,
Series I. — Wild Flowers. Series
II. — Pictures Wanting Words.
Series III. — Entertaining Pic-
tures. 3d. per Set, each contain-
ing 12 Sheets. Each Sheet includes
a bet of Six Water Colours.
Book - keeping. By Theodore
Jones. For Schools, 2s.; cloth, 3s.
For the Million, 2S. ; cloth, 3s.
Books for Jones's System, 2s,
Chemistry, The PubUe School. By
J. H. Anderson, M.A. 2s. 6d.
Bulce Domuin. Rhymes and Songs
for Children. Edited by John
Farmer, 53,
England, A History of. By the Rt.
Hon. H. O. Arnold - Forstee,
M.A. Illustrated. 5s.
Euclid, Cassell's. Edited by Prof.
Wallace. M.A. is.
"Eyes and No Eyes" Series (Cas-
sell's). By Arabella Buckley.
With Coloured Plates and other
Illustrations. Six Books. 4d. and
6d. each. Complete Volume, 3s. 6d.
Founders of the Empire. By
Philip Gibbs. Illustrated, is. 8d. ;
cloth, 2S. 6d.
French, Cassell's Lessons in. Cheap
Ediiion. In Two Farts. Cloth,
IS. 6d. each. Complete in One
Vol., 2S. 6d. Key, is. 6d.
French-English andEnglish-French
Dictionary. 1,150 pages. Cloth or
buckram, 3s. 6d. ; half-morocco, 5s.
French-English and English-French
Dictionary, Cassell'sNew. Edited
by James Boielle, B.A. 7s. 6d.
Gaudeamus. Songs for Colleges and
Schools. Edited by John Farmer.
5s. Words only, paper covers, 6d, ;
cloth, 9d. •
Geography : A Practical Method of
Teaching. Book I., England and
Wales, in Two Parts, 6d. each.
Book II., Europe. By J. H. Over-
ton, F.G.S. 6d. Tracing Book,
containing 22 leaves, 2d.
German Dictionary, Cassell's. (Ger-
man - English, English - German.)
Cheap Edition. Cloth, 3s. 6d. ; half-
morocco, 5s.
Greek Heroes. New Supplementary
Reader. With 4 Coloured Plates,
&c. 6d. ; cloth, is.
Hand and Eye Training. By G.
Ricks, B.Sc. Two Vols., with 16
Coloured Plates in each. 6s. each.
Hand and Eye Training. By George
Ricks, B.Sc, and Jos. Vaughan.
Illustrated, Vol. I., Cardboard
Work, 2S. Vol. II., Colour Work
and Design, 3s.
Historical Cartoons, Cassell's Col-
oured. Size 45 in. x 35 in. 2S. each.
Mounted on Canvas and varnished,
with Rollers, 5s. each.
In Danger's Hour; or, Stout Hearts
and Stirring Deeds. A Book for
School and Home. With Coloured
Plates and other Illustrations.
Cloth, is.Sd ; bevelled boards, as. 6d,
King Solomon's Mines. Abridged
Edition, for Schools, is. 3d.
Latin -English and English - Latin
Dictionary. 3s. 6d. and 5s.
Latin Primer, The First. By Prof.
POSTGATE. IS.
Latin Primer, The Hew. By Prof.
J. P. PosTGATE. Crown 8vo. 2S. 6d.
Latin Prose for Lower Forms. By
M. A. Bayfield, M.A. 2s. 6d.
Laws of Every-day Life. By the
Rt. Hon. H.O. Arnold-Forster,
M.A. IS. fid.
Magna Carta. A Facsimile of the
Original Document, mounted on
cardboard, together with a Trans-
lation. IS. fid.
Marlborough Books : — Arithmetic
Examples, Revised, 3s. French Ex-
ercises, 3s. fid. French Grammar,
2S. fid. German Grammar, 3s. fid.
Mechanics and Machine Design,
Numerical Examples in Practical
By R. G. Blaine, M.E. Revised
and Enlarged. Illustrated, as. fid.
Mechanics' "Manuals. Edited by
Paul N. Hasluck. fid. net each.
A Selection from Cassell & Company s Publications. 13
Mechanics, Applied. By J. Peery,
M.E.,D.So.,&c. Illustrated. 7S.6d.
Mechanics, Cassell's Cyclopaedia of.
Edited by P. N. Hasluck. Series
I., II., and III. 7s. 6d. each.
(Each Series is complete in itself. )
Metric Charts, Cassell's Approved.
Two Coloured Sheets, 42 in. by
22 ^^ in., illustrating by Designs
and Explanations the Metric Sys-
tem, is. each. Mounted with
Rollers, 3s. each. The two in one
with Rollers, 53. each.
Models and Common Objects, How
to Draw from. By W. E. Sparkes.
Illustrated. 3s.
Models, Common Objects, and Casts
of Ornament, How to Shade from.
By W. E. Sparkes. With 25
Plates by the Author. 3s.
Object Lessons ftom Nature. By
Prof. L. C. Mi ALL, F.L.S. Fully
Illustrated. New and Enlarged
Edition. Two Vols., is. 6d. each.
Physiology for Schools. By A. T.
SCHOFIELD, M.D., &c. Illustrated.
Cloth, IS. gd. ; Three Parts, paper,
Sd. each ; or cloth limp, 6d. each.
Poetry for ChUdren, Cassell's. 6
Books, id. each ; in One Vol., 6d.
Popular Educator, Cassell's. With
Coloured Plates and Maps, and
other Illustrations. 8 Vols. , 53. each.
Reader, The Citizen. By the Rt. Hon.
H. O. Arnold - Forstee, M.A.
Illustrated, is. 6d. Also a Scottish.
Edition, cloth, is. 6d.
Reader, The Temperance. By J.
Dennis Hird. is. or is. 6d.
Readers, Cassell's " Belle Sauvage."
An entirely New Series. Fully
Illustrated. Strongly bound in cloth.
[List on application. )
Readers, Cassell's Classical, for
School and Home. Illustrated..
Vol I. (for young children), is. 8d. ;
Vol. II. (boys and girls), 2s. 6d.
Readers, Cassell's "Higher Class."
(List on application.')
Readers, Cassell's Readable. Illus-
trated. {List on application.)
Readers, Cassell's Union Jack
Series. With Coloured Plates and
numerous Illustrations. 6 Books.
From 8d. each.
Readers for Infant Schools, Col-
oured. Three Books. 4d. each.
Seaders,Geographical,CasseU'sNew
Illustrated. (List on application).
Readers, The "Modern School."
Illustrated. [List on application. )
Readers, The "Modem School"
Geographical [List on application. )
Reckoning, Howard's Art o£ By C.
Frusher Howard. Paper covers,
IS. ; cloth, 2S. New Edition. 5s.
Round the Empire. By G. R.
Parkin. Fully Illustrated, is. 6d.
R. H. S. Curves. By Prof. R. H.
Smith. A Set of 23 Scaled Tem-
plates, with Pamphlet, 10s. 6d.
Scholar's Companion to "Things
New and Old." Five Books. 32
pages, extra crown 8vo, 2d. each.
Shakspere's Flays for School Use.
7 Books. Illustrated. 6d. each.
Spelling, A Complete Manual of.
By J. D. MORELL, LL.D. Cloth,
IS. Cheap Edition, 6d.
Spending and Saving : A Primer of
Thrift. By Alfred Pinhorn. is.
Swiss Family Robinson. In words
of one syllable. With 4 Coloured
Plates. 6d.
Technical Educator, Cassell's. With
Coloured Plates and Engravings.
Complete in Six Vols. 3s. 6d. each.
Technical Manuals, Cassell's. Illus-
trated throughout. 16 Books, from
2S. to 4s. 6d. {List on application.)
Technology, Manuals of. Edited by
Prof. Ayrton, F.R.S., & Richard
WoRMELL, D.Sc, M.A. Illustrated
throughout. 7 Books from 3s. 6d.
to 55. each. (List on aiiplication. )
Things New and Old; or, Stories
from English History. By the Rt.
Hon. H. O. Arnold-Forster,
M.A. Illustrated. 7 Books from
gd. to IS. 8d.
Things New and Old, Scholar's Com-
panion to. 5 Books. 2d. each.
This World of Ours. By the Rt. Hon.
H. O. Arnold - FoRSTER, M.A.
Illustrated. Cheap Edition. 2S. 6d.
Troubadour, The. Selections from
English Verse. Edited and Anno-
tated by Philip Gibes, is. 6d.
"Wild Flowers" Sheets, Cassell's.
12 Sheets, each containing 10 ex-
amples of familiar wild flowers,
beautifully reproduced in colours
and varnished, is. 6d. each.
CASSELL & COMPANY, Limited, Luigate Hill, London.
14 A Selection from CasseH &■• Company' s Publications.
Books for the Little Ones.
A Sunday Story Book, 3s. 6d.
320 pages of Simple Stories, alter-
nating with Pictures.
Animal Land for Little People. By
S. H. Hamer. Illustrated, is. fid.
Beneath the Banner. Being Narra-
tives of Noble Lives and Brave
Deeds. By F. J. Cross. Illus-
trated. Limp cloth, is, ; cloth
gilt, as.
Birds, Beasts and Fishes. By S. H.
Hamer. With Four Coloured
Plates and numerous Illustrations.
IS. fid.
Bo-Feep. A Book for the Little Ones.
With Original Stories and Verses,
Illustrated with Full-page Coloured
Plates, and numerous Pictures in
Colour. Yearly Volume. Picture
boards, 2S. fid. ; cloth, 3s. fid.
Good IVIoming 1 Good Night I By
F. J. Cross, Illustrated. Limp
cloth, IS, ; or cloth boards, gilt
lettered, 2s.
Heroes of Every-day Life. By Laura
Lane. Illustrated. 2s. fid.
" Little Folks " Half- Yearly Volume.
Containing 480 pages, with Six
Full-page Coloured Plates, and
numerous other Illustrations.
Picture boards, 3s. fid. Cloth gilt,
gilt edges, 5s. each.
"Little Folks" Plays. Each con-
taining 2 Coloured Plates and
numerous Illustrations. fid. net
each : —
Cinderella. By Miranda HIU.
RumpelstiltzkinandDummling. Two
Plays. By Miranda Hill.
HOW TO GET UP A CHILDREN'S PLAV.
By Maggie Browne.
"little Folks" Song Book. With
Four Coloured Plates. 2s. fid.
Little Folks' Sunday Book. By
Christian Redford. Illustrated.
2S.
Little Mother Bunch. By Mrs.
MOLESWORTH. Illustrated. 2s. fid.
Ilagic at Home. By Prof. Hoff-
man. Illustrated. Cloth gilt,
3s. fid.
master Charlie, By C. S. Harri-
son and S. H. Hamer. Illus-
trated. Coloured boards, is. fid.
Mcky Magee's Menagerie ; or,
Strange Animals and their
Doings. By S. H. Hamer. With
Eight Coloured Plates and other
Illustrations by Harry B. Neil-
son. IS. fid.
Notable Ship-wrecks. Revised and
Enlarged Ediiion, is.
Peter Piper's Peepshow. By S. H.
Hamer. With Illustrations by H.
B. Neilson and Lewis Baumkr.
IS. fid.
Pleasant Work for Busy Fingers.
By Maggie Browne. Illustrated.
2S, fid.
Quackles, Junior : Being the Extra-
ordinary Adventures of a Duckling.
With Four Coloured Plates and
other Illustrations by Harry
RouNTREE. Written by S. H.
Hamer. is. fid.
The Foolish Fox, and Other Tales
in Prose and Verse. Edited by
S. H. Hamer. With Four
Coloured Plates and numerous
Illustrations, is. fid.
The Ten Travellers. By S. H.
Hamer. With Four Coloured
Plates and numerous Illustrations
by Harry B. Neilson. is. fid.
The Jimgle School; or, Dr. Jibber-
Jabber Burchall's Academy. By
S. H. Hamer. With Illustrations
by H. B. Neilson. is. fid.
The Old Fairy Tales. With
Original Illustrations. Cloth, is.
" Tiny Tots " Annual Volume.
Boards, is. 4d. Cloth, is. fid.
Topsy Turvy Tales. By S. H.
Hamer. With Illustrations by
Harry B. Neilson. is. fid.
The Surprising AdTentures of
Tuppy and Tue. A Fairy Story.
By Maggie Browne. With Four
Coloured Plates and other Illustra^
tions. 3s. fid.
Whys and Other Whys ; or, Curious
Creatures and Their Tales, By
S. H. Hamer and Harry B,
Neilson. Paper boards, as. fid.
Cloth, 3s. fid.
A Selection from Cassell &• Company s Publications. 15
CASSELL'S SHILLINa STOST BOOKS.
Interesting Stories.
A Pair of Primroses.
Frank's Life Battle.
Ella's Golden Year.
In the Days of King George.
Little Queen Mab.
SHILLING STOEY BOOKS BY EDWAED S. ELLIS. Illustrated.
All Illustrated, and containing
Rhoda's Reward.
The Heiress of Wyvern Court.
Their Road to Fortune.
Won By Gentleness.
Astray in the Forest.
Bear Cavern.
Red Feather. A Tale of the
American Frontier.
Captured by Indians.
The Boy Hunters of Kentucky.
The Daughter of the Chieftain.
Wolf Ear the Indian.
CASSELL'S EIGHTEENPENNY STOEY BOOKS. Illustrated.
Aim at a Sure End.
All in a Castle Fair.
Bear and Forbear.
By Land and Sea.
Clare Linton's Friend.
Dolly's Golden Slippers.
Her Wilful Way.
Honour is My Guide.
On Board the Esmeralda.
The Bravest of the Brave.
To School and Away.
CASSELL'S TWO-SHILLINO STOEY BOOKS. Illustrated.
Adam Hepburn's Vow.
A Self-willed Family.
Daisy's Dilemmas.
Fairway Island.
Fluffy and Jack.
The Lost Vestal.
The Mystery of Master Max ;
and the Shrimps of Shrimpton.
Uncle Silvio's Secret.
Wrong from the First.
TWO-SHILLING STOEY BOOKS BT EDWABD S. ELLIS. Illustrated. Cloth.
Tad.
Lost in Samoa.
Blazing Arrow.
Chieftain and Scout.
Klondike Nuggets.
Ned in the Block House.
Ned in the Woods.
Ned on the River.
The Path in the Ravine.
The Rubber Hunters.
The Young Ranchers,
HALF-CEOWN STOEY BOOKS BY EDWAED S. ELLIS. Illustrated. Cloth.
A Strange Craft and its Won.
derful Voyages.
Camp-Fire and Wigwam.
Cowmen and Rustlers.
Down the Mississippi.
Footprints in the Forest.
In Red Indian Trails.
In the Days of the Pioneers.
Iron Heart, War Chief of the
Iroquois.
Lost in the Wilds.
PoNTiAC, Chief of the Ottawas.
Red Jacket: The Last of the
Senecas.
Scouts and Comrades.
Shod with Silence.
The Camp in the Mountains.
The Great Cattle Trail.
The Hunters of the Ozark.
The Last War Trail.
The Lost Trail.
The Phantom of the River.
Two Boys in Wyoming.
Uncrowning a King.
HALF-CEOWN STOEY BOOKS FOB GIELS.
A Girl without Ambition. j Sisters Three.
Mrs. Pederson's Niece, | Tom and Some Other Girls.
HALF-CEOWN STOEY BOOKS FOE BOYS,
An Old Boy's Yarns. 1 Freedom's Sword.
At the South Pole. I Heroes of the Indian Empire.
By Fire and Sword. Lost Among White Africans,
Cost of a Mistake. I
1 6 A Selection from Cassell &> Company's Publications.
HALF-CROWN STORY BOOKS FOR BOYS {continue^ :—
Lost on Du Corrig.
Master of the Strong Hearts:
A Story of Custer's Last
Rally.
Pictures of School Life and
Boyhood.
Rogues of the Fiery Cross.
Strong to Suffer.
The Queen's Scarlet.
The White House at Inch Gow.
Through Trial to Triumph.
Told Out of School.
To Punish the Czar.
To the Death.
Wanted — A King ; or, How Merle
Set the Nursery Rhymes to
Rights.
With Redskins on the War-
path.
BOOKS FOR BOYS AND GIRLS. FuUy lUustrated.
Gulliver's Travels. With up-
wards of loo Illustrations from
New Plates. Fine Art Edition,
7S. 6d.
Cassell's Robinson Crusoe.
With loo Illustrations. Cloth,
3$. 6d. ; gilt edges, 5s.
Cassell's Swiss Family Robin-
son. Illustrated. Cloth, 3s. 6d. ;
gilt edges, ss.
Strange Adventures in Dicky-
bird Land. Stories told by Mother
Birds to amuse their Chicks,
and overheard by R. Kearton,
F.Z.S. With Illustrations from
Photographs taken direct from
Nature by C. Kearton. Cloth,
3S. 6d. ; cloth gilt, gilt edges, ss.
THREE AND SIXPENNY STORY BOOKS FOE GIRLS. Illustrated.
A Sweet Girl Graduate.
A World of Girls: The Story of a School.
Bashful Fifteen.
Beyond the Blue Mountains.
Merry Girls of England.
Polly: A New-fashioned Girl.
Red Rose and Tiger Lily.
The Palace Beautiful.
The Rebellion of Lil Caeeington.
Bound by a Spell. By the Hon. Mrs. Greene.
Five Stars in a Little Pool. By Edith Carrington.
The King's Command: A Story for Girls. By Maggie Symington.
THREE AND SIXPENNY STORY BOOKS FOR BOYS. Illustrated. Cloth gilt.
With 8 Coloured
Plates in each.
By L. T. Meade.
The Red Terror : A Story of the
Paris Commune. By Edward King.
The Three Homes.
Rev, Dean Farrar.
By the Very
By
" Follow my Leadek." By Tal-
bot Baines Reed.
For Fortune and Glory: A
Story of the Soudan War.
By Lewis Hough.
For Glory and Renown. By
D. H. Parry.
The Capture of the "Es-
trella": A Tale of the
Slave Trade. By Commander
Claud Hai-ding, R.N.
GASSEIL & COMPANY'S COMPLETE CATALOGOE wia BC sent post free oh application to
CASSELL & COMPANY, Limited, La Belle Sauvage, Ludgaie Hill, London.
Under the Great Bear.
Kirk Munroe.
With Claymore and Bayonet.
By Colonel Percy Groves.