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?
The villages and adjacent properties of the inhabitants are all enclosed together. The Emperor accords to each village a certain portion of land, which is generally equally distributed among the male inhabitants. In the forest beyond the enclosure, they have the privilege of pasturing their flocks, but are not permitted to till the land. This apparent liberality has not much significance, on account of the immense extent of territory to the small number of inhabitants; the little plots, in comparison with the non-utilized soil, are mere minnows to a whale.
But this act of graciousness, on the part of the sovereign towards his subjects, is not admitted by the Baron de HaxtÄusen, who maintains that the system had its origin in the natural development of the mode of life of the Russian people. “The Russian people,” he observes, “were nomadic, and among the nomads, there is no defined individual property—the land was utilized in common, for the benefit of the whole tribe. Then gradually these nomadic hordes, established in Russia, ceased their wandering life, and became fixed in permanent dwellings, and it was at this time that the pasturages became constant, instead of temporary, as they had formerly been. Then agriculture advanced, in combination with the pastoral occupation and breeding of cattle, the ordinary life of the nomad. But the old element of nomadic life was too deeply implanted in the existence and character of the people: it was a part of their nature, and could not be eradicated. Pasturage was carried on in common, and agriculture likewise was carried on in common; all the members of the tribe or of the community laboured together, and the harvests were gathered by their united work, and then distributed in equal parts to every member entitled to share. In Servia, Bosnia, and Sclavonia, villages may be seen having the same principle in practice. In Russia they have improved this organization without, however, attacking the principle. They have divided and distributed the land in equal parts between all the members of the commune, not in perpetuity, still for a period of many years.”
The same author shows all the advantages of such an organization: “It develops in the people the desire to remain in the country; it fortifies the sentiments of homogeneity, community, fraternity, and justice, and love of the country and attachment to a place. It strengthens the ties of family life, and in Russian villages, contrary to what is seen elsewhere in Europe, a great number of children are a source of riches.”
I have just mentioned that the Siberian peasants have the right of felling timber in the forests for their own use. Since they obtain their fuel gratuitously, they maintain in their houses an extremely high temperature. In elegant houses, constructed of stone, neither stoves nor open fires are there seen; the heating apparatus is between the two surfaces of the walls. The heat is transmitted by contact with the surface, and uniformly from the ceiling to the floor. This process has not the disadvantages of our system of closed stoves, and does not affect the head with carbonic gases diffused in the room. In the peasants’ dwellings the wooden walls do not admit of the same arrangement. In the centre of the habitation is raised a construction of stone or baked clay, and this, heated at the centre, throws off the heat from the surface.
The women seldom leave their houses; therefore they are loosely clad in no other garment than a kind of dressing gown, like the fellah women of Lower Egypt. This scanty clothing seems strangely inconsistent with the snow on the ground out of doors. So soon as the outer door is opened, the hot air in the interior, charged with vapour, becomes suddenly condensed, and forms a cloud around the entering visitor for a few moments so dense as to prevent his recognition. He makes his appearance, as in the stories of “The Thousand and One Nights,” wrapped in a cloud that has accompanied his passage, and which is dispersed so soon as its mission is accomplished. At one of the stages where I stopped, between Krasnoiarsk and Irkutsk, the heat was so great in the travellers’ room, that in spite of the season, a butterfly, some flies and mosquitoes were fluttering and buzzing around in full vigour.
I was informed that in this part of Siberia the mosquitoes form very formidable enemies to battle with. Constantine told me that during summer here one is obliged to put his head into a sack, and in spite of this precaution, is often a victim to these terrible insects. Madame de Bourboulon, who had passed there in the month of July, mentions these pests, and that travellers, and even horses, have perished from the effects of their stings.
After having been on the road eight days and eight nights, we penetrated at last into the valley of the Angara. This river proceeds from Lake Baikal, passes on to Irkutsk, and finally loses itself in the Yenissei. As the difference of level between Irkutsk and Lake Baikal is considerable, though the distance is only fifteen leagues, the current of the Angara is extremely rapid. The frost, consequently, does not succeed till very late and after great efforts in arresting its lively course. Nowhere else in Siberia does this struggle between a running stream and hibernal congelation—the arrest of motion and the transmutation of force—produce effects so remarkable. In order to become master of its adversary, the frost attacks the running water at first from below, beginning at the banks. It is in the bottom of the Angara and contiguous to its shores where the first solidifications appear. Whilst these are spreading, little blocks of ice form and float over the surface, and then these two opponents gathering force, seek to join their efforts in a simultaneous and combined attack. The river threatened to be stopped in its course struggles desperately. Pursued and being closed in, it rushes frantically onwards, and if it could thus break loose and carry its floating enemy with it, it would perhaps gain the victory. But these restless foes, increasing in size and number, maintain their hold and menace further retreat. The Angara has then recourse to a supreme effort. It changes suddenly its ordinary course, and leaping in torrents over the barriers, spreads out over the valley, scattering its force in every direction, as if routed by its implacable enemy. It is then that the victory is decided. The waters that have overflowed are speedily overcome so soon as they relax in their retreat, and are transfixed and congealed in an instant; and those also, retreating along the course of the river, weakened in body and velocity, yield too in their turn to a terrific conflict of eight or ten days’ duration, and there, at last, repose under a white shroud, vanquished and still, leaving monuments of might that strike the eye with astonishment.
These mountains of ice are heaped up on this river to a great height. They rise irregularly, sustaining huge, jagged blocks awry on their mass of contortions, presenting the most singular and grotesque spectacle of unaccountable disarray. The whole width of the valley, on account of the inundation, was filled with this startling convulsion of nature. When my eye first rested on this wondrous sight, the sun was shining through one of these blocks, pitched on one of the highest pinnacles, and produced a natural pharos of dazzling splendour; here its rays, refracted from innumerable icicles, coloured the valley with rainbows, or there fell on minute crystals of ice, formed from the watery vapour floating in the air, and with these depicted two luminous columns, that rose and melted away in the depth of the sky. It called up in my fancy that sun palace sung by Ovid, sustained by shining columns. Had the poet, when he described these marvels, already known the bitterness of exile in hyperborean lands? had he, like me, contemplated this strange phenomenon in the same latitudes?
My arrival at Irkutsk was accompanied by these grand fairy scenes of light, so startling in their novelty and splendour. This city is built at the confluence of three rivers, the Angara, the Irkut, and the KÜda. Instead of being perched on a commanding hill, like most other Siberian cities, it is, on the contrary, placed in the centre of a circus, formed between the mountains, that opens only on the side formed by the course of the Angara. Irkutsk is inhabited by the representatives of a great variety of races, who there retain not only their physical type, but their costumes and manners; the aspect of the streets is therefore extremely picturesque. At every moment you pass on the way Buriats, Tungus, Samoyeds, and then Chinese and Mongols, and Mantchous and even some Kirghiz, who have been permitted by the Government of Omsk to quit their districts. But I will first present to my readers the Russian society of Irkutsk and the Polish exiles.
The Russian society here may be classed under three categories: the functionaries, the gold-seekers, and the clergy.
At the head of the first is the governor-general; he represents directly the Emperor in the whole of Eastern Siberia; he has, moreover, full power, and his acts are controlled by the Emperor alone. This appellation might lead one to suppose that this supreme dignity must be enjoyed by a military man; but this is not the case. In Russia, in every department of the civil administration, there are grades, corresponding to those in the army, having the same designations. At the time of my sojourn at Irkutsk the governor-general was M. Silegnikof. I presented to him my recommendations from St. Petersburg, and he received me with all the usual hospitality of a Russian functionary and the courtesy of a great lord of this country. He appointed a young man attached to his office to accompany me wherever I wished to go or to be admitted.
Immediately after the governor-general in the hierarchy comes the military governor, who is not only commander of the troops, but in a certain way Minister of War of Eastern Siberia.
The first establishment in Irkutsk I visited was the Lyceum. There is only one thing to remark there, especially when free instruction is the order of the day. There are no professions in Russia free and independent. Not only are engineers, as in France, Government officials, but also the lawyers and doctors. The Government gives them appointments according to their rank, just the same as to other servants of the Crown. People that are rich, it is true, are accustomed to pay for the services they receive, but a poor patient may call in any medical man he pleases, without being under any obligation to give him the smallest recompense. The Government, contrary to the general opinion, is desirous of extending instruction; fearing, however, the consequences of an education absolutely gratuitous, it enters into an engagement with its young subjects desirous of instruction, by virtue of which it gives at first to the student the necessary instruction, and this accomplished, the latter, in return, is bound to give to the State five years of gratuitous services in the profession he has chosen. If the young man, however, does not succeed in passing his examination, he is obliged to enter the army to acquit himself of the debt of five years’ service. As this gives undoubted facilities in the choice and adoption of a career, it seems to me a very ingenious organization.
Then I visited the prison, but it was a sight to make me shudder. To be bound not only to Irkutsk, but to a prison in Irkutsk, is something terrible. When I had contemplated the features of these assassins and robbers, faces no longer human, where, instead of intelligence and sensibility, nothing but rage and thirst for blood is seen depicted, my commiseration speedily vanished. I lamented only one thing here, and more than elsewhere, and that is the pernicious Siberian habit of keeping the windows always closed; certain chambers of this prison were tenanted by seventy or eighty prisoners without having ever been ventilated!
Before leaving this lugubrious sight, my guide took me to the chamber of political prisoners. There were about fifteen men there, nearly all very young, thrown together without any consideration, and probably for long periods. Let us drop a veil over such unhappy beings. Be it far from me to hurl any reproach at the Czar; for, considering the enormous responsibility that rests on him, he must necessarily be driven sometimes to cruel decisions, if there be no other means of securing the tranquillity and welfare of his people; but for all that, I tremble on thinking of the victims of these arbitrary judgments, of these young spirits, similar to those misguided lights led astray by guilty revolutionists in France, and who so innocently imagine that true liberty is to be found elsewhere than in respect for law and order. If justice could be ubiquitous and reach every culprit, I know which class of offenders would predominate in the prison of Irkutsk and in our bagnes also.
The wives of these prisoners are allowed to follow their husbands into Siberia; they are even maintained at the expense of the State, but, at the same time, are subject to a severe regulation, that obliges them, in the first place, to renounce all rights proceeding from their birth or social position. And in the next place, they can neither send nor receive letters nor money but through the hands of the authorities. Besides, they see their husbands only at fixed times and places. If the husband is exiled for life, the wife can under no pretext return to Europe. The local administration has the right to exact from them the most humble services, such as the scouring of floors, and similar work.
On leaving here, I went to see the barracks of the firemen. This corps, second in utility only to the police in every country, is of the first importance in Siberia, where the towns are built of wood. An observatory surmounts each of the four barracks of firemen at Irkutsk, and a watcher is constantly there to give the first alarm of danger. My guide begged the commanding officer to give me an example of the turn-out. He at once pulled a bell, and ordered the hoisting of certain colours at the top of the observatory. In two minutes, neither more nor less, sixteen horses were found harnessed to an engine and accessories, and appeared in the court where I stood; and five minutes afterwards, three other engines arrived from the other establishments. The rapidity with which fire spreads in wooden buildings requires the promptest resources, and these are furnished by sixty-four horses bringing four engines fully equipped to the spot in five minutes.
