Letters of recommendation for Siberia—M. Pfaffius, frontier commissary at Kiachta—Russian music—Arrival at Moscow.
During my sojourn at St. Petersburg, I went of course, and more than once, to see the curiosities with which the city is filled, but it was necessary to remember that I had set out for a much longer journey, and that my chief occupation at St. Petersburg was to search for a compagnon de voyage. With this object, I availed myself of all the letters of recommendation I had obtained in Paris, hoping thereby to secure the useful as well as agreeable society either of a tourist or of a functionary returning to his post in Eastern Siberia.
In the first réunions where I had the honour to be invited, I invariably spoke of my intended journey, hoping thereby to find a travelling companion, but in doing so, I was always answered with a frown or met with a deaf ear.
The reason was this: at St. Petersburg, it is not in good taste to travel in the direction of the East. The inhabitants of this city of pleasure seem to regret their origin; this society, so fastidious and refined, appears really to fear being still taken for a horde of barbarians. Women in the highest social rank have said to me sometimes: “Whatever I may do or say, you will nevertheless have your own opinion of me; you will regard me as a Cossack.” Everything associated with Asia is in disfavour, and, perhaps, those who exaggerate the sentiment would willingly cede Siberia to the Chinese Government, in order to have nothing in common with the East. To speak French is indispensable; when you are French and are received in society in St. Petersburg, it is surprising to see how much France is à la mode: French is habitually spoken, and read in newspapers and books; the cuisine is French as well as the costumes, and so are many of the plays at the theatres. It is quite the ton to have arrived from Paris, Luchon, or Trouville, and to have brought the latest cancans from the boudoirs à la mode.
As soon as the frost appeared, I began busying myself with the arrangements for my journey. I was aided in this difficult task by M. Bartholdy, then chargé d’affaires at the French Embassy. This obliging Frenchman succeeded with the Imperial Government in enabling me to traverse Siberia in a manner somewhat official, and the ministers accordingly gave me letters of recommendation to the governors of the various provinces I was about to visit.
I obtained also from M. Michaelof, the contractor for the posting between Nijni-Novgorod and Tumen, a circular order requiring each postmaster on the route to give me the best horses at the shortest notice.
Many persons recommended me to their friends in Siberia. In less than a fortnight I was provided with thirty-two of these recommendations, but I had not yet found either a companion or a servant.
The frost, however, was becoming every day more severe. The thermometer varied between 10° and 12° Centigrade below zero (14° to 10° Fahr.).[1]
[1] See [note 1] at end of book.
The canal of the Moïka, which my windows overlooked, was already half frozen; enormous blocks of ice were drifting on the Neva; the snow, though not yet very deep, fell often enough to lead me to hope for sledging very shortly. I was about to decide to start alone for Moscow, when I received a letter from the head of the Asiatic Government.