The main street of an Eastern Siberian village is not an inspiriting sight, even on a fine and sunny day. I have never looked upon a more dismal spectacle than met the eye from the post-house windows at Touloung. There were four, two looking on to the village street, the others on to a lonely barren stretch of common, at the end of which, through the grey mist, loomed the red roof of the ostrog. It was hard to say which depressed one most, the dirty village street, knee-deep in mud and filth, the dirty dilapidated houses; the only signs of life half a dozen mangy-looking ducks splashing and wallowing in the rain, and a couple of shivering post-horses crouching under shelter of our tarantass;——or the lonely, drab-coloured road, winding away like a great snake over the common, past the prison, and into a green mass of forest just beyond; the tall gaunt telegraph poles and black and white verst posts almost undistinguishable in the dense grey mist, dispelled, ever and anon, by driving showers of rain and sleet. The interior was no better than the look-out. Our amusement became at length reduced to killing the flies, which swarmed in thousands on the dirty walls, and drinking tea, that never-failing solace of the Siberian traveller. There was no food in the house to speak of. The unwelcome visitor of last night had exhausted our old friend’s stock, and reduced the contents of his larder to some salted “omuli” and a couple of loaves (or rather “lumps”) of black bread. This constituted our evening meal. A buxom female, who appeared as if by magic from the innermost recesses of the kitchen, waited on us. We would willingly have dispensed with her services, for she was not only disgustingly dirty, but was afflicted, in addition, with a loathsome skin disease. Nor was it reassuring when our host explained the cause. “Poor girl,” he said pensively, “she has suffered much the last three weeks. You would hardly think, to see her bustling about so cheerfully, that she only rose for the first time to-day from a bad attack of small-pox, caught from one of those beastly tea-caravans from China. Curse them! they spread it all over the country.” Under any other circumstances I should have felt uneasy, but we were becoming so desperate that had violent symptoms developed themselves, I believe we should have taken it quite as a matter of course. For this very reason, perhaps, neither of us caught it, for the fair “Liouba” had undoubtedly arrived at the most infectious stage of the disease.
Towards sunset the rain abated a little. About seven o’clock, some women emerged from the houses opposite, each carrying a basin and slice of black bread, which, having placed under shelter of the eaves, they left and returned within doors. A Siberian woman’s out-door costume on a rainy day is even more peculiar than that in which she receives her guests in summer, for, from the waist downwards, with the exception of a pair of high boots reaching to the knee, there is no attempt at clothing of any description, the linen skirt being fastened apparently round the neck. The appearance of these worthy dames all at once at the gates of their courtyards was curious in the extreme, nor did they appear the least disconcerted when they caught sight of our faces at the window. On inquiry, it is the custom, throughout Siberia, for the peasants of every village and town to place outside each house refreshment of some sort (which usually takes the shape of bread and milk) for the use of any convict that may make his escape. The rule is an old one, nor has it ever been interfered with by the Imperial Government. It is also understood that the bowl and plate holding the provisions shall not be tampered with or taken away, china utensils being rather valuable in Eastern Siberia. Whenever this code of honour has been infringed the next convict who escapes is bound, should he come across him, to kill the thief. A sentence of this kind was carried out near Tomsk while we were staying there. Both convicts had made their escape from the ostrog at Kolinskaya, about ninety versts from Tomsk, the first escaping about three weeks before the second. As usual, both made what they could upon the road, till the latter accidentally heard of the theft committed by the former, and never rested till he had hunted him down, and after a severe struggle beaten him to death with a bludgeon. His body was found in the forest some days later.
But if the day at Touloung had been depressing, the night was infinitely more so. The remains of our scanty meal having been carried away by the small-pox patient, the post-master appeared with two guttering tallow dips, which just sufficed to make darkness visible, and, bidding us good night, retired to the depths of his ill-smelling den, whence, a few moments after, there issued sounds of music in the shape of a groaning, wheezing concertina. We were given the benefit of this inspiriting music from a little past eight o’clock till far into the night. I used to think the Russian National Anthem a fine and stirring composition, but can, even now, scarcely hear it without a shudder. It was the only tune he knew. It was past 1 a.m. when I got to sleep. The howling of the wind, and rattling of the rain and sleet against the window-panes, made one feel thankful one was under shelter, even in such a den as this. A huge grey rat, sitting near on the floor, his eyes gleaming in the semi-darkness, appeared to share my opinion. Two months before, I could not have slept a wink with the knowledge that such an animal was in the room, but I now composed myself to slumber quite unconcernedly, although with the firm conviction that when asleep, he, and probably many others, would be scrambling over my body and face. An excellent school is Siberia for the fastidious, and I know many a youthful London “masher” who would derive incalculable benefit (both physical and and mental) from a short residence at Touloung.
Awakening at five o’clock, I sprang eagerly to the window, to see how the weather was. Alas! it was pouring harder than ever. Still the same sodden grey sky of yesterday, with sooty-coloured clouds driving over it, still the same desolate landscape, dripping houses, and distant forest shrouded in white mist. Another day at Touloung! Cursing Siberia and everything connected with it, I wrapped myself in my pelisse, and lay down again on the filthy worm-eaten floor, nor did I wake again till past ten o’clock, to find a new arrival seated, in front of the hissing samovar, and the rain coming down harder than ever.
The new comer was a Jew, and a very dirty one into the bargain, though evidently a man of means, as his private tarantass and fat podgy hands, covered with enormous diamond rings, testified. Like most of his race, he was as curious as a monkey, and no sooner had I opened my eyes than I was assailed with the usual bevy of questions. “What was my nationality?” “Where had I come from?” “Where was I going?” “What was my income?” and finally, “What had brought me to Siberia?” My answer, “Pleasure,” was invariably met with shouts of laughter on these occasions. Nor, now that I have crossed that dreary country, can I blame my fellow-travellers for what at the time I looked upon as a somewhat rude and unnecessary display of mirth. The Jew spoke a little French, and was a welcome addition to our melancholy party, for besides being a cheery, talkative fellow, full of fun and anecdote, he had a large stock of provisions. We were, almost starving, and accepted with alacrity his invitation to join him in a tin of preserved mutton, washed down by a couple of glasses of vodka. I do not know when I ever enjoyed a meal more. We had not tasted solid food for nearly three days, and the pangs of hunger were beginning to make themselves felt in a most painful and unmistakable manner. We more than once experienced, seriously speaking, the pains of starvation in Siberia: that terrible gnawing sensation at the pit of the stomach which is so hard to describe, but which for sheer mental and physical suffering is unequalled.
Our Hebrew friend was, it transpired, a bagman “travelling” in gunpowder, and a native of Irkoutsk. He was now on his way to Tashkent, in Central Asia, having come the whole distance from Nicolaievsk, on the Sea of Okhotsk, without a break, save a rest of a couple of days in his native city. Such a voyage as ours paled before the prodigious length of this journey, which must be at least four thousand miles from end to end. The Jew had already done it four times, once in winter, an experiment, he added, he would not care to repeat. “In summer,” said our talkative friend, “it is charming. Like what you English would call one great Picque-Nicque.” How I envied the little man his cheerful disposition!
He made a start by five o’clock, when the weather cleared a little, and by nine o’clock the sky was cloudless and covered with bright stars. Dreading a rainy morrow, we almost decided to have the horses put in and push on at once. The next station could not, at any rate, be worse than Touloung, and might be better; but the post-master begged us not to attempt it. The floods were out in places, and he had but a young and inexperienced yemstchik to give us, who would probably lose his head, should anything go wrong. We were not sorry next day that we had taken the old man’s advice. Morning broke bright and clear, though the roofs of the houses were still wet and gleaming in the sunshine, as with six horses in, we slowly made our way up the miry street, and said good-bye, with a sigh of relief, to the grimy post-house in which we had passed so many dreary, comfortless hours.
A newly steam-ploughed field in the boggiest parts of Cambridgeshire after a week’s steady and incessant rain, but faintly describes the condition in which we found the road. In many places it was entirely submerged, and we had to trust to Providence and the yemstchik’s knowledge of the road for safety. At one place the water was well over the hind wheels. We were not sorry to emerge on dry land again, for we had to cross a broken-down bridge during this aquatic interlude, when a false move to the right or left would have precipitated us into a ditch about ten feet deep and broad in proportion. For the first eighteen versts it was quite impossible to attempt a faster pace than a walk, and several times we stuck altogether. It was anxious work, for a loosened bolt or screw, a broken axle, may, in Siberia, detain one for a week or more. We had not much confidence in our yemstchik, who could not at the most have been more than twelve or thirteen years old, and should have fared badly had we adhered to our original intention and started over-night, for the horses did exactly as they liked. What the little imp lacked in strength, however, he made up in assurance, and waved his whip about, alternately cursing and praising his team after the most approved style. We had a narrow escape of an upset once when the horses, taking fright at a dead horse on the side of the road, made a bolt for it into the forest. Luckily a large hole into which the tarantass dived, brought us up all standing, and saved us from further mishap. During this performance two of the traces broke, and we were detained over an hour repairing them. Three télégas and a tarantass having passed us meanwhile, we were detained at the next station (Kourjinskaya) for twenty-four hours.
The utterly inadequate number of horses kept at each station may be said to have been one of our chief drawbacks. Whenever, on the road, one has the misfortune to meet the post, it is impossible, although the mail consists, as a rule, of four or six tarantasses, at the most, to procure horses, and a long weary wait is the result. Sometimes, when we had the post-house to ourselves, it was bearable enough, but on most occasions our sufferings were shared by a number of other travellers. Sitting or standing in a bare, whitewashed room for half a dozen hours together, is not conducive to good temper or conversation, and on these occasions the waiting-room reminded me of nothing so much as a cage of wild beasts, each eyeing the other with envy, hatred, and malice, the women especially looking as if they would like to tear each other’s eyes out. The peculiarities of men too came out at such times, some taking the matter coolly and philosophically, alternately drinking tea and smoking cigarettes, till their horses were ready; others pacing restlessly up and down the room, cursing the post-master, yemstchiks, and everybody connected with the establishment; others, again, subsiding into a state of dull apathy, and staring straight before them for hours together. I often thought at such times of men I know in England, to whom a wait of a couple of hours in a snug waiting-room, surrounded by papers and books, food and drink, is an excuse for a good British grumble. I thought of what they would say to a detention of three days, or so, in one of these post-houses, with nothing but tea for nourishment, nothing to look at but four dirty whitewashed walls, nothing to do but to pace up and down for hours together, to try and keep the circulation going in one’s tired, hungry frame, a thousand-mile journey before them, and probably a dozen such delays ere they reached their final destination!
I will not weary the reader with an account of every stage. Suffice it to say that we reached Nijni Udinsk, after some delay and trouble, on the 31st of August; and with the exception of the desert, I do not think I have ever made a rougher or more uncomfortable journey than that from Touloung to this town. The last stage was a terrible one, and I thought more than once we should have to abandon all hope of reaching Nijni Udinsk that night at any rate. About half-way the horses, of which we had seven in, shied while crossing a rickety wooden bridge, both near wheels went over the edge, and for a few moments things looked ugly. Though the team plunged a good deal, however, no harm was done, and by the aid of two young fir-trees that our yemstchiks cut down, we got the clumsy vehicle hoisted on to terra firma again. Although well broken into jolting and shaking by camel-cart experiences, I do not think I ever made a more fatiguing journey. Our bodies and bones ached for days after.