From Pekin to Calais by Land

by Harry De Windt

A description of one Siberian village will suffice for all. The houses, for the most part of rough unpainted wood, have an untidy, unfinished appearance, the majority of them being dangerously out of the perpendicular. The effect produced by their appearance was exactly like that of ships rolling and tumbling about in a high sea, some with their sterns high up out of the water, others with their bows buried in the waves. This phenomenon is caused by the depression of the ground in spring, when the snow melts, and when their foundations being very insecure, the houses fall about in all directions. I saw one at Kloutchefskaya, near Kansk, that had sunk to such a degree that the inmates had to enter it on all fours. The entire absence of colour in these villages was fearfully depressing. I do not think I saw a single flower-garden throughout the whole journey. In some of the larger villages faint attempts at decoration were made by cutting down a fir-tree and sticking it (rootless) into the ground on either side of the road; but as this had been done in early summer, the dark green of the firs had usually faded, scorched by the sun into a dirty drab, making the surroundings, if possible, more desolate and cheerless than before. In every Siberian village, however small, are three Government buildings; the church, prison, and post-house; also, situated at one extremity of the place a huge wooden barn, in which a quantity of grain is stored annually by the villagers as a precaution against famine.

We found the post-houses (which are situated at intervals of every twenty or twenty-five versts) vary considerably in comfort and cleanliness, the best being about on a par with a decently kept labourer’s cottage in England. All are built on the same model, and of wood, two black and white pillars at the door, and the Imperial arms over the gateway alone distinguishing this building from the other rough wooden huts. Two rooms, or partitions, each about twenty feet by eighteen feet, are set apart for the use of travellers, a huge brick stove in the wall heating them equally. The floor was invariably carpetless, while the sole furniture consisted of a small table and two hard wooden chairs, sometimes, but not often, an equally hard wooden sofa; and for ornament a few woodcuts from the newspapers, or cheap tawdrily coloured portraits of the Czar and Czarina were pinned on the greasy, whitewashed walls. In one corner on a shelf is kept the “Black Book,” a volume in which travellers are invited to write any complaints, immediately over this a gaudy brass “Ikon,” or picture of the Holy Virgin or Saviour, which no Russian’s room, from Czar to peasant, is ever without. There were usually two windows——double ones——kept hermetically sealed even on the hottest day. Washing appliances were, of course, nil. I should hardly like to own how often I washed my face and hands between Irkoutsk and Tomsk! Ablutions were almost entirely dispensed with except for a handkerchief dipped into a tea-glass from the “Samovar,” and passed over the face and hands. With this “lick and a promise,” one had to be satisfied. The post-houses differed a good deal in comfort and accommodation, some being as clean and well found as those east of Lake Baikal, others little better than human pigstyes. Curiously enough, the dirtiest were invariably situated near the large towns, and while we met with nothing but civility and kindness from officials in the wilder districts, those within forty versts or so of Tomsk and Irkoutsk were as arrogant and extortionate as only a Siberian post-master can be.

The Great Post-Road from Irkoutsk to Tomsk, would scarcely be called a road in any other country. In wet weather it becomes a morass, in dry seasons the thick grey dust is up to the axles, while in early autumn the centre track is often so cut up by caravans as to make wheel traffic quite impossible. The yemstchiks then diverge to the right or left, where, though the going is not so heavy, the numerous tree-stumps, watercourses, felled logs, &c., render it anything but safe. I often wondered our tarantass did not come to pieces altogether long before reaching Tomsk. No European carriage would have stood the work twenty-four hours. A triple telegraph wire runs the entire length of the road, and is carried on eastwards from Irkoutsk to Wladivostok, a town of about 2000 inhabitants, and the headquarters of the Russian Naval Squadron in Siberian waters. There is no telegraph direct to Pekin. I was surprised, at times, to miss the wires altogether for twenty or thirty versts but found, on inquiry, that they are sometimes laid under ground on account of the violent storms that sweep across the steppes, chiefly near Krasnoiarsk and Marinsk. Telegraphing in the Russian Empire is cheap enough in all conscience. A message may be sent from Petersburg to Wladivostok for fifteen kopeks, or about 2½d. a word; from the capital to all parts of European Russia, for a third of that sum.

We dashed along gaily the first two stages out of Irkoutsk, passing, a few versts out, the monastery of St. Innocent, a huge stone building erected at the cost of many million roubles by the gold-merchants of the capital. This saint is supposed to protect travellers, and none of the wealthier mine-owners ever dream of taking a journey without first making a substantial offering at his shrine. Such voyages are necessarily frequent enough, and the sum total at the end of the year is considerable. It was almost like a glimpse of Italy or Southern France to peep in through the open gateway, the priests in their brown and white robes, strolling bareheaded about the sunny, vine-clad gardens, and shady cloisters. The tower at the eastern side of the building, is lofty, and of graceful architecture, but the fine effect is entirely spoilt by a large sham clock, just beneath the steeple, its painted hands pointing eternally to half-past twelve. The Siberians apparently have a mania for these, for I afterwards noticed them on many public and Government buildings at Tomsk, Krasnoiarsk, and Tobolsk.

We reached Bokovskaya, the first post-station out of Irkoutsk, a little after two o’clock, and were lucky enough to obtain horses at once, a circumstance that did not then strike one as out of the way, but we had as yet but little experience of Siberian post-masters and their ways. It was getting dusk as we reached the little village of Tielminskaya, where our first check occurred. Though we had covered but little ground, bright sunshine, a comfortable tarantass, and good horses, made our first day’s posting so pleasant that we began to think the discomforts of Siberian travel had been exaggerated by our Danish friends. To be sure we had only come thirty versts, and over one thousand five hundred lay between us and the good city of Tomsk!

A NIGHT IN A POST HOUSE.——TILMSKAYA.

The waiting-room at Tielminskaya had just been vacated by a Siberian family en route for Irkoutsk. Its appearance was, to say the least of it, uninviting, and did not give one a very high opinion of the cleanliness of the Siberian en voyage. No horses were obtainable till four o’clock next morning, so we spread our furs and rugs on the floor, resolving to sleep in the waiting-room, filthy as it was. One might, to use a slang expression, have cut the atmosphere with a knife. Though it had been oppressively warm all day, every window was tightly closed, while a huge fire roared in the brick stove. The dirty, worm-eaten floor, strewn as it was with mud, straw, scraps of paper, fish-bones, egg-shells, and other abominations, was anything but appetizing to look at, to say nothing of the stench of stale cigarette smoke, furs, and salt fish, but we managed to make a good meal notwithstanding, and thoroughly enjoyed the fresh-laid eggs, clotted cream, and preserved berries that the post-master’s wife provided. We little knew then that a time was coming when even eggs and milk would be unobtainable luxuries.

A “Pope” (as priests of the Greek Church are called) made his appearance about ten o’clock, just as we were thinking of turning in——a noisy, bustling fellow, who put further rest out of the question; for he was of a communicative turn of mind, and would talk, whether one answered him or not, so I made the best of a bad job, and got out my dictionary, with a view to picking up a little Russian. The conversation was somewhat laboured, and consisted chiefly of pantomime. Lancaster did not join in, but slumbered away peacefully in a corner. I verily believe he would have slept through an earthquake.

A word constantly made use of by my clerical friend was Katorgi. I do not know whether the reader has ever attempted to look out a Russian word, having but a slight knowledge of the language. If so, it will not surprise him that it took me a considerable time to discover that the word, in English, means “Convicts.” By dint of hard work I managed at the end of an hour to glean that, firstly, the road between Koutoulik and Nijni Udinsk was infested with robbers; secondly, that on no account must we travel at night through these districts; and, thirdly, that a whole family on their way to Irkoutsk from Krasnoiarsk had been murdered by thieves (escaped convicts) but a week previously.