[10]. The word “Rouble” is derived from the Russian word Roupit “to cut,” so called because up to four hundred years ago the Russians used bar silver as coinage.
CHAPTER IX.
IRKOUTSK (continued).
The shock-headed youth who fulfilled the duties of chambermaid awoke me one morning at the Moskovskaya with the news that that day (the 19th of August) was to witness in Siberia a total eclipse of the sun. I did not learn till afterwards that scientific men had been sent from London, Paris, Berlin, and Petersburg, to Krasnoiarsk, a town about six hundred versts west of Irkoutsk, to witness and report on the eclipse, but the expedition was a failure, the weather at these places being dull and overcast. At Irkoutsk, however, a bright sun and cloudless sky ushered in the eventful morning. The eclipse was to take place at 11.30, but for quite half an hour previously a perceptible change took place in the temperature, which, though it had been close and sultry up till eleven o’clock, now became quite cool, while the light breeze that had been blowing dropped as if by magic. About eleven the bright sunshine became obscured by a mist something like the lurid glare that precedes a thunderstorm on a summer’s day in England. Up till now nothing was observable on the sun’s surface as it shone out, like a ball of fire, from the woolly sky, but at 11.20 one could discern, by the aid of an opera-glass, a thin black line creeping from right to left over the great fiery disc, increasing in size to a semicircular blotch, till, at a quarter to twelve, the sun presented the appearance of an apple with a large piece bitten out. Ten minutes more, and nothing was visible but a thin streak of brilliant light surrounding a circular patch of black, while darkness crept over the city, and the stars, one by one, appeared in the heavens.
One could see, in the square below the hotel, a crowd of eager, upturned faces, many of whom had never even heard that the eclipse was expected, and were much disconcerted in consequence. Droshki drivers pulled up their horses and stared open-mouthed; market-women left their stalls, to kneel and cross themselves; every one’s face wore an anxious, concerned look, which added not a little to the weirdness of the scene. The effect produced on the animal creation was extraordinary. Horses neighed, dogs howled, while birds in great flocks flew silently across the starlit sky, apparently bewildered and alarmed at the sudden fall of night. About ten minutes past twelve the black veil over the sun diminished in size, and the darkness commenced to clear away, as, almost imperceptibly, the light of day once more crept slowly over the earth, while one by one the stars faded in the brightening heavens. The air, too, grew gradually warmer, till, at half-past twelve not a trace of the phenomenon was visible, except in the dense, excited crowds discussing it in the market-place. The fall of the temperature during the eclipse was twelve degrees.
Rain fell in torrents, shortly after. This did not, however, prevent us from walking out with R. to the drill-plain, and witnessing a review of the troops. Walking in Irkoutsk on a rainy day is, to say the least of it, unpleasant. The streets are undrained. Great pools of water lie in the roadway, rendering it almost impassable, while the thick dust converts the streets into morasses of deep black mud. We had to wade knee-deep more than once before reaching the parade-ground. The garrison of Irkoutsk is composed mainly of Cossacks, in number about 10,000. They were not taking to look at, their dingy drab uniforms and dirty white linen caps rendering them far from smart in appearance, though in drill and steadiness they were perfect. All were armed with the “Berdan” rifle.
I strolled into a barber’s on the way home, to have my hair cut, a somewhat necessary operation, for it had remained untouched since Shanghai, and was falling about my shoulders in uncomfortable luxuriance. The art of hair-cutting is evidently learnt early at Irkoutsk. On inquiring of a small boy of about eight years old, whether any one was in, he dragged me to a chair, and arming himself with a huge pair of shears, commenced, although he had to mount on a stool to do so, to operate upon me himself. I expected every moment to find myself minus an ear, and was relieved when he had finished, and not a little surprised to find that he had done it extremely well. I felt constrained to buy a bottle of Atkinson’s White Rose in consequence, as an encouragement to the youthful disciple of Figaro.
The museum at Irkoutsk is well worth a visit, and is a handsome stone building, erected at considerable cost by one of the millionaires. We spent a long morning there, inspecting the trophies collected from all parts of Siberia by M. Bogdanovitch, a Russianized Frenchman, who spends most of his spare time among the Yakoutz, Tungouses, and other aboriginal Siberian tribes. A word here may not be amiss as to the natives of the vast country through which we are about to take the reader, for the term “Siberian” is a very vague one, comprising as it does the skin-clad aborigines of the shores of the Frozen Ocean to the semi-Chinese “Bouriat,” the wild and primitive Kamchatdale to the civilized citizens of Tobolsk or Irkoutsk.
We will work from east to west, and commence with the Kamchatdale. I imagine there are few places in the world so little known as this desolate peninsula, which most people look upon as the uttermost end of the earth when they say, to convey an idea of unlimited distance, “Oh! so-and-so’s gone to Kamchatka or some other outlandish place.” I have met one of the few Englishmen who have ever visited this dreary peninsula, and can give the reader the benefit of his experience and observations.
The peninsula of Kamchatka is about eight hundred miles long, by one hundred and thirty miles wide, and is situated in the Sea of Okhotsk. Flat and marshy at Cape Lopatka, its southern extremity, the country to the northward becomes mountainous, rocky, and barren, stunted birch and willow trees forming, in most parts, the sole vegetation, save in the valley watered by the Kamchatka River. Here the soil is good and grass abundant, the latter sometimes growing six feet high. Poplar, willow, and cedar of large size are met with, while cabbages, potatoes, and carrots also grow in this oasis, which is situated in the centre of the peninsula. The wild raspberry, currant, and cranberry also abound, and in the springtime many wild and beautiful flowers. But the greater part of Kamchatka is rocky and sterile. A chain of mountains to the east of the peninsula has many volcanoes. The highest and most active, Mount Kluchevski, a peak of greater altitude than Mont Blanc, is near the coast, and visible for many miles out at sea, the base of the mountain having a circumference of over one hundred and fifty miles. Kamchatka is subject to severe shocks of earthquake, as many as ten (on an average) occurring annually at Petropaulosk, the chief town or settlement. The climate of Kamchatka, though severe, is not so trying to a European constitution as that of the mainland of Eastern Siberia. Frost sets in about the end of October, but up to January the temperature rarely falls to more than 10° below freezing point (Fahr.). February to March are the most trying times, when “Poorgas,” or snowstorms, accompanied by tempestuous winds, sweep over the bleak, rocky coast and valleys, occasioning great loss of life and sometimes burying whole villages under the snow.