In order to escape from these importunities, I went to the convent of St. Innocent, where I witnessed the solemn ceremonies at the commencement of Lent.
During this period, the saint is the object of the highest veneration. His tomb is not only opened, like that of Saint Sergius, but his body, unlike that of the patron of Troitza, is not covered with any shroud. The body is wonderfully preserved, except in the colour of the skin, which is quite black. A pious legend informs the inhabitants of Irkutsk, that this colour arises from the sins of the faithful, that have quitted their souls the instant they kissed this precious relic. I have often witnessed the enthusiasm with which the devotees of Eastern Siberia embrace the venerated remains, and the contentment they feel, in removing with their nail or a pen-knife, a splinter of the coffin, the remainder of which will soon in this way inevitably disappear.
It may be noticed also, in many other practices, how very sincere and profound is the piety of the Siberian peasant.
I have observed, many times, with what scrupulousness, these simple folks keep the fasts that are prescribed. It occurred to me sometimes, on days marked for penitence—and there are many—on arriving at a posting stage, to ask, from curiosity, if I might be provided with some food. “It is Lent, Monsieur,” they invariably replied, “We can take nothing but tea to-day: we have no bread even, to offer you.” It seems strange that a Government which has known how to employ so well a religion as a political power, should not modify a regulation so enervating to a poor population needing more food and vigour.
Before leaving Irkutsk, I visited the museum to see the collection of fossil mastodons, remains that abound in certain strata in Siberia: and now after having been hunting with the Governor General several times, and enjoyed myself here for six weeks, I thought it time to resume my journey.
M. Pfaffius had promised to inform me, from Kiachta, when a caravan of Russian tea-merchants would form there, in order to proceed to the south of China.
“Try to find an interpreter,” he told me, “in order that you may never be at a loss to understand these tea-merchants, and they will undertake all the necessary arrangements for your journey among the Mongols and the Chinese.” But I had no choice to make, for only one man presented himself to accompany me from Irkutsk in the capacity of interpreter. He was honest to the backbone, I admit, but his history must have been curious. He claimed to be a French subject, but he was born in Constantinople, and had never seen France. He was known by the Spanish name of Pablo, and his passport was written in Greek.
He pretended he could speak all the languages of the Levant, Russian even, as well as Italian and French; but to make myself intelligible I was frequently obliged in speaking French to interlard my phrases copiously with Italian, Russian and even German words. He had, however, the faculty of making himself so well understood to everybody, by aiding his jargon with signs, that I considered myself very fortunate in my acquisition. This genius of elucidating the signification of his words by gesture, was evidently derived from his former profession, which was that of a player of pantomime in a circus.
Although this Pablo was now in my service, and was ready to do anything I required, Constantine wished to help me, for the last time, in my preparation for departure. Though our characters were opposed in many features, one does not separate with indifference from a travelling companion, who has been by your side day and night in a journey of fifteen hundred leagues, and especially when the parting is to be for ever. My young fellow traveller moved me by the uneasiness he manifested on my intended passage over the Lake Baikal. He begged me again and again, for three days, not to expose myself to this danger, but to turn the lake on the south; and, as a proof of the interest he took in my safety, in order to dissuade me from my purpose, he brought to me, when I was about to start, the chief of police, who assured me that the Government had taken no precautions this year for the safe passage of the lake along the ordinary track.
On receiving this intimation I yielded, and, alas! I had much cause to regret my determination, or rather, having modified it, as the reader will learn; for prudence, under these circumstances, did not secure safety. Pablo was overjoyed at my decision. His exaggerated fear of the dangers, and his solicitude for his personal comfort, had inspired me from the first with uneasiness regarding our future relations.