Fig. 58.—A Post Station in Siberia.
Here, at the first post-house, we were met by the district officer of Tiumen, who greeted us in the name of the governor, and offered us escort through his district. In the chief town of the district we found the house of one of the rich inhabitants prepared for our reception. Thenceforth we were to learn what Russian hospitality meant. Hitherto, indeed, we had been everywhere received and treated most hospitably, but now the chief officials of the district or province exerted themselves unsparingly on our behalf, and the best houses were thrown open to us. In fact, we were treated like princes, simply on account of our scientific mission. Words fail me to express our gratitude with adequate warmth. Beyond Tiumen, in which we stayed three days, inspecting the prisons of the exiles, the tanneries, and other sights of this first Siberian town, the peasants showed us their mastery even of the rivers. For the approaching spring had melted the ice on the Pyshma and the blocks had begun to move; we, however, had to get across before this happened. At the village of Romanoffskoye the inhabitants with bared heads stood waiting for us on the bank of the Pyshma, and even the river had to wait before it was permitted to shake off its icy bonds. Boldly and cleverly the peasants had thrown a makeshift bridge across the half-melted stream, using a large boat as a centre pier, above and around which they had fettered the treacherous ice with strong hawsers and ropes. Willing hands unyoked the team of five required for our day’s journey, seized spokes and axles, and bore one wagon after another across the yielding bridge, which groaned and creaked under its burden. The task was safely accomplished, and on we went merrily through water and snow, mud and mire, over log-roads and ice.
The Tobol, which we wished to cross on Good Friday, the 14th April, the first day of true spring, was less accommodating. Here also all requisite arrangements had been made to secure our passage: one of the wagons was unyoked and rolled on to the ice, but this suddenly cracked and split, and forced a hasty retreat. The bells on the cross-trees had tinkled merrily when we left Yalutoroffsk; they sounded sadly as we drove back again, and it was not till Easter-day that we were able to cross the great river with the help of a ferry-boat.
So we continued on our way. Before and behind us the rivers threw off the yoke of winter; only the dreaded Irtish lay still hard-bound and secure under our feet, and thus, after more than a month’s journey without further adventure, we reached Omsk, the capital of Western Siberia.
After we had seen what was to be seen in Omsk,—the streets and the houses, the military academy, the museum, the hospital, the military prison, and so on, we continued our journey toward Semipalatinsk, along the highway which runs along the right bank of the Irtish, connecting the villages of the so-called Cossack line. Already, in passing from Yalutoroffsk to Omsk, we had journeyed through a steppe—that of Ishim; now the steppe surrounded us on all sides, and almost every night the heavens were red with the flames of last year’s grass and herbage, which was now being burnt. Troops of migrating birds followed the river directly behind the ice as it drifted northwards; crowds of aquatic birds peopled all the steppe streams and lakes; various species of lark flew hither and thither in flocks; the dainty falcons of the steppe had already betaken themselves to their summer quarters; the spring had indeed come.
In Semipalatinsk we had the good fortune to find in the governor, General von Poltoratski, a warm friend, ready to aid us in all our endeavours, and in his lady the most amiable of hostesses. Not content with having secured our hospitable reception, the general most kindly proposed to make us acquainted with the Kirghiz, who form a great part of the population of his district, and to this end organized a great hunting expedition after archars, the wild sheep of Siberia, which are almost twice the size of our domestic animals.[80]
On the 3rd of May we started on the chase, crossing the Irtish and following the post-road to Taschkent, in the Kirghiz steppe. After a journey of sixteen hours we reached the region of the chase—a rocky part of the steppe, and soon we were standing before the aul or yurt-camp which had been prepared for us. There we were welcomed by the general’s wife, who had gone on ahead of us the day before, and cordially also by about a score of Kirghiz sultans and district governors, and their numerous followers.
During the next three days there was great sport on the Arkat mountains. It was holiday with the Kirghiz, who are always eager for fun, and it was not less so for us. Hill and valley resounded with the hoofs of fourscore or more horsemen, who took part in the two-days’ hunt; the sun, when he was pleased to show himself, shone down on strange, gay garments which had been hitherto hidden under furs; there was a merry bustle over hill and dale. The Kirghiz, once so much dreaded, whose very name means robber, are now the most faithful and contented Russian subjects, and there they were with their best horses—their most precious pacers, their tamed golden-eagles, greyhounds, and camels, their zither-musicians and impromptu poets, their wrestlers and other gymnasts—a merry crew. They sat together in groups and companies; they darted hither and thither, singly or in troops, wheeling their horses in sheer high spirits; with the keenest interest they watched the wrestling bouts or the boys racing on horseback; they led the chase with astuteness and good judgment, and listened with delight to the words of the extempore singer who celebrated its fortunes. One of the Kirghiz had already killed an archar before our arrival; good luck brought a second victim to my rifle. It was this good fortune which inspired the poet. His verses were not particularly full of ideas, but they were none the less so characteristic that I recorded them as a first sample of Kirghiz poetry. While the poet sang, an interpreter translated his words into Russian, and the General rendered them in German, while I took them down in shorthand:—
“Speak, red tongue, speak while thou hast life, for after death thou shalt be dumb.
Speak, red tongue, which God hath given me, for after death thou shalt be silent.