CHAPTER XV
Through Siberia
The railway from Kharbin passes through Manchuria in a north-westerly direction till it comes to the town of that name, where the customs examination takes place before entering Russian territory. In a magazine article recently written by a French lady, she complains of having been examined at four different places on the line, and in a very thorough manner, the sleeves of coats being ripped open, and the bedding of the sleeping car being pulled to pieces, but we saw nothing of this sort, and I think there must have been some suspicion on the part of the police. Registered luggage is a much more serious affair, and endless were the stories we heard from fellow-passengers of the losses they had sustained—one passenger had waited a whole week for his at Moscow. For those who like ourselves take all their luggage in the railway carriage, the examination was a mere farce, consisting of the verbal inquiry, “Have you any spirits, tobacco, or playing cards?” to which is sometimes added a cursory examination of the bedding to see if any dutiable article has been concealed there.
It is a great convenience that passengers can take so much luggage in the carriage without inconvenience. In the Russian State Express there is not nearly so much accommodation as in the International Sleeping Cars, where there is a large recess over the door, extending above the corridor, in which there was ample room for two suit cases and two bags of bedding. Besides this there were racks for smaller objects in the other part of the carriage. The space is so considerable in the first-class carriages that the upper berth is at right angles to the lower, which is consequently very much pleasanter than when it is immediately below the other berth, leaving no space to sit upright. There is a nice dressing-room between every two coupés, where hot and cold water is laid on, and this is really an inestimable boon on a long journey. The hot water supply is somewhat variable, so we generally supplemented it by buying extra. In some of the trains no charge is made for it; in others it costs 2½d. If for no other reason than the dressing-room, I should advise all first-class passengers to go by the International rather than by the Russian State Express. One is also less worried by the official trio coming to inspect tickets. It seems odd that on all Russian trains it requires three men to fulfil so simple a duty, but no doubt it is an example of the suspiciousness which seems to permeate all officialdom in this country. There is a comfortable chair and table, so that passengers can sit facing one another. This is no small convenience on so long a journey, especially when you prefer having some meals in your own carriage.
It is not only pleasanter but wiser not to have more than one solid meal a day on the journey, and we could not help being amused at the general collapse of a large number of passengers on the third day, evidently the result of imprudence in this matter. In the restaurant book of food (I can call it by no other name) there was a page of “fasting dishes” which was, I fear, neglected. We found that a judiciously stocked luncheon basket, added to the facilities for securing scalded milk, bread, excellent butter, and eggs, made it unnecessary to spend much time in the restaurant car. This was not so important in the International Sleeping Car as in the Russian State Express, for although the dining-car was atrociously hot and crowded, the meals were served promptly, but in the latter we were an hour and a half having a lunch of five courses, so we determined after that experience to order our meal in advance and à la carte. By so doing we saved a great deal of time, but we were obliged to have it at an unseasonable hour. That did not matter much, as we altered our hours in accordance with the “Daylight Saving Bill,” and so profited in various ways. In order to have comfortable time for washing, without having other people hammering on the door, it was most convenient to rise at 5 o’clock, and it was equally convenient to go to bed as soon as it was dark, because all Russian trains economise in light. Even a first-class carriage has only a single candle for all illumination, and that is placed in a lantern above the door, so that it only serves to reveal the darkness.
Leaving Manchuria we passed into the Trans-Baikal province, at the western side of which lies Lake Baikal, and to our no small surprise and disappointment, winter still reigned supreme. Beautiful forests of birch and pine trees broke the monotony of the plains, and drifts of snow still lingered in the hollows, where sun or wind had failed to chase it. It was, of course, very different from when we crossed it in February, with the thermometer at thirty degrees below zero, but we still found winter clothing necessary, and were bitterly disappointed to see none of the lovely flowers which transform the dreary plains into flower gardens. We had been told that the delphiniums were a dream of beauty, but we saw none, and I imagine the end of May or beginning of June would be a much better time to travel across Siberia, in spite of the fact that the trains are then crowded, and it is necessary to secure seats months beforehand, or trust to getting one that accidentally falls vacant nearer the time.
Lake Baikal was still completely frost-bound, and looked beautiful glittering in the morning sunlight, with snow-capped mountains enclosing it on every side. The only disappointment about Lake Baikal is that the mountains are too distant to look really grand and awe-inspiring. The steamer which plies on the lake during the summer from Baikal station was still lying close alongside it. Turning westward almost immediately after leaving it, the railway line follows the course of the river Angara for about one and a half hours, till it reaches Irkutsk, the present seat of government.
Irkutsk was a trading town founded in 1652, but was almost completely destroyed by fire in 1879. It is striking in appearance as one approaches it by the long railway bridge across the river, and is finely situated, with an imposing railway station. As we crossed the bridge we saw the fine bridge of boats used in summer still lying alongside the bank in its winter quarters, for large masses of loose ice floated past, blocking the river. But although Irkutsk has a certain comeliness of appearance, and is the centre of intellectual activity in Siberia, it is not altogether a desirable place to live in, for not only is the climate trying, but report says that it is imprudent for any one to go about unarmed. The great prisons in the neighbourhood of Irkutsk have for generations been the place where the worst criminals of the Empire, as well as political exiles have been sent, and when their term of service has expired they are let loose on the community, the only regulation being that they shall remain there. The result is that the present population contains not only the present released convicts, but also a considerable number of the descendents of former convicts of the worst type.