CHAPTER XI.
KRASNOIARSK TO IRKUTSK.
Social position and education of the country people and citizens—Uselessness of Siberian forests—Journey to Irkutsk—A pack of wolves—Cleanliness of the villages—Congelation of the Angara—The government of Irkutsk—The college—The prison—The fire brigade.
We started along the banks of the Yenissei, and, on our way, observed some idlers amusing themselves by line-fishing. Their process is rather ingenious: they break a hole through the thickness of the ice, and down this aperture they drop one end of their line, the other end being attached to a little apparatus gliding on two skates like a sledge. The fish, on taking a bite, sets this little vehicle in movement, and thereby announces its simplicity. The remainder of the performance does not differ from that practised everywhere, and in the end, as in many other ingenious contrivances, cunning fattens on credulity.
A short time afterwards Krasnoiarsk disappeared from our view, and then we found ourselves again amid the most complete solitude. The bosom of the Yenissei was really a fine sight; it occupied the whole valley, which, notwithstanding its width, appeared very narrow and profound, on account of the imposing height and steep sides of the mountains forming precipitous cliffs along the shores. In presence of this grand scenery, it was amusing to hear the tinkling of our puny bells, agitated beyond measure to announce our important passage over the rough ice; it was a contrast of the ridiculous and the sublime. We went on in this way till we reached the end of the ravine, cut by an abrupt turn of the mountain, when we left the river and continued our course eastward.
During two days again, the country presented nothing to interest the traveller.
On wending our way through these pine forests, extending from Krasnoiarsk to Irkutsk, the trees of which are gigantic in height and circumference, I supposed that they would furnish to the Russian Government, whose property they are, considerable sums; but I was mistaken. The Government allows the peasantry to cut timber for their own use, but forbids the felling as a commercial undertaking, and particularly the exportation of this wood, even for its own account and profit. But the reason for this strict regulation is a mystery. The Mongols, for want of timber, make use of dried camel dung as a combustible, as the Egyptians do in Egypt. The Chinese and the Japanese have barely fuel enough to warm themselves; the Russian Government therefore might find a large source of wealth in these forests, as well as in the coal beds of the island of Tarakai. There may be valid reasons for neglecting them, but of what nature they are I have no conception.
One night, when the moon was pouring down a flood of silvery light over the snow-capped trees, we caught sight of a pack of enormous wolves, about two hundred yards ahead of our sledge. “Wolves!” cried out our yemschik. “Wolves!” I repeated, getting out my revolver and laying it down in readiness, whilst I hastened to charge my rifle, which, since the perilous escape near Omsk, I had taken good care to have at hand, and not stowed away in some inaccessible baggage. I had everything ready, and was waiting for a serious attack. Being the best armed, I knelt down beside the yemschik, with my revolver, rifle, and a formidable big knife. The driver and Constantine both smiled at me, and wondered what feat of prowess I was about to perform; and their smiles, evidently, proved their experience. As soon as the wolves heard us, they all stopped, turned round attentively to face us, then watching us a few moments without moving, and finding we were drawing nearer and nearer, turned and trotted along the road before us in the same direction like a pack of tired hounds after a good day’s run.
All praise be due to the lively imaginations of poets and artists, to whom I was indebted for a thrilling emotion! I waited with panting breath for the realization of a long-cherished exciting dream, and to become an actual participator in those soul-stirring adventures I had pored over many a time with fascinating delight in the Magasin Pittoresque, the Habitation au Desert, and many similar books, with all their fantastic illustrations; and now, instead of a thrilling scene of real life, I had to content myself with a spectacle provokingly prosaic; for there was nothing more to interest me than the tame march of fifteen fine wolves, fleeing calmly at our approach, at a respectful distance before us.[11] It seems that the depth of the snow in the forest impeded their free course; and the poor beasts, consequently, preferred taking their way over a road well beaten down, even by their enemies. We kept each other company, in this way, for a mile or more, when the approach to a village, with which probably they were well acquainted, though not to the extent of the door latches, induced them to turn off, and plunge into the depth of the forest. Doubtlessly, discretion more than fear was the motive for this movement in avoiding conflict with a force directed by the superior intelligence of man. What better proof could there be of their sagacity and just appreciation of valour?