To prepare at night for sleep, the Siberian wanderers are accustomed to moisten their bacheliques, which speedily freeze and stiffen, and thus present a solid partition or case, at a few inches from the face. The respiration then congeals against the inner surface of this improvised wall. But in spite of these precautions, when I awoke in the morning, I found my eyelids completely sealed up with little icicles around the lashes, which I was obliged to dissolve between my warm fingers before I could open my eyes to the daylight.
Another strange effect of cold so intense may be seen on entering a village, at an early hour, when the inhabitants are just lighting their fires. The hot smoky air rising from the chimneys ascends straight up to a certain point, where, becoming rapidly cooled and condensed and meeting with a stratum of equal density, it commences spreading out horizontally, on every side, like a kind of ceiling or canopy, and this, increasing in thickness, obstructs radiation, and thus forms a protecting cloud for the whole village.
Between Kolivan and Diorosno, two little towns, standing face to face on opposite hills, the telegraph wires extending to Kiachta are encased in a cable underground, an expedient adopted to avoid repeated destructions of the communication by floods which occurred when formerly placed on poles.
The Obi freezes in the same manner as the Oka; the protuberances are so exaggerated in magnitude, that it is difficult to realize that they cover the bosom of a river; they form, in fact, hills and valleys, obliging the traveller to ascend and descend.
We arrived at Diorosno at eight in the morning, on the anniversary of the baptism of Christ. A hole, about a yard in diameter, had been made through a thick flooring of ice; and, through this aperture, the Obi might be seen flowing rapidly towards the north, as if seeming to make sport of the cold trying to arrest its course on the surface. The clergy of the village, followed by a crowd of devotees, came in great pomp to this hole to bless the water of this river. When the ceremony ended, all the inhabitants drew near with their buckets, vases, and vessels of all kinds, to fill them and then carry away to their dwellings the water that had just been blessed. When they had all taken what they desired, three or four fanatics divested themselves of their clothing in the twinkling of an eye, plunged into the freezing water, and dressing themselves again as hurriedly, hastily ran home to warm themselves at their fires. These people consider it a miracle if one escapes without perishing from the consequences of an act of such rashness. I think that the short duration of the bath and the reaction subsequently produced by the violent run are the chief safeguards against danger.
After having passed the Obi, we entered on a country of most singular aspect; it was still flat, but inclined, an inclined plane, in fact, that rose gradually, seemingly without end, to the horizon. I think that the magnitude of the rivers in Siberia arises, in the first place, from the vastness of their basins, and then from these prolonged inclined planes, that facilitate so much the descent of accumulating waters. Whatever it may be produced by, this strange sloping land gives rise to wonder, and at first brings on giddiness, especially when one is gliding downwards. Although the slope is not very steep, the sensation of slipping down gently into some distant, unknown abyss is unpleasantly suggestive of danger. As the ground sinks under you, the world might easily be imagined to have broken loose from its moorings, and to be floating away to some inconceivable destination. One is instinctively urged to put out his hand to seize something, but since there is nothing but the bare ground in view, he is thrown back on himself more completely, and this singular impression becomes all the more vivid and painful.
We had now been three days journeying from Omsk, when, about five in the morning, we were roused by some violent jerking from the rugged ice of the Tom, which announced our approach, accomplished not without difficulty, to the city of Tomsk. It is always a great relief in Siberia, after a long journey, to have a resting place in view, and then to arrive there. I made up my mind to stay a while in this city, where the inn, by comparison, appeared relatively comfortable.
The chamber they gave me contained nothing more than is usual elsewhere, but considered here completely furnished; still the room was lighted by four great windows, and the floor was well swept. Finding it therefore rather inviting, I opened all my trunks, and begged Constantine to keep me company for a little time in this important centre of Siberian commerce.
The city is divided into two parts, the lower city lying in the valley of the Tom, and the upper perched on a hill, running along the right bank of this river. The first is the business quarter; there are found the bazaars and warehouses. The other, on the contrary, is composed of elegant dwellings, at least elegant for the country, occupied by those who have either acquired large fortunes, or are on the way to this enviable object.
In order to have a good idea of the nature of the commerce of Tomsk and its importance, it is necessary to have been an eye witness of that disposition of the inhabitants of Western Siberia for a far niente existence on the one hand, and on the other, to know that absorbing passion with which the Eastern Siberians devote themselves to gold-hunting and the working of gold mines.