Through Siberia

A new railway.—The Ural range.—Outlook into Russia in Asia.—Nijni Tagil.—The Demidoff mines and hospital.—May weather.—Russian railways.—Arrival at Ekaterineburg.—An orphanage.—Precious stones.—Orenburg shawls.—Tarantass and luggage.—Departure for Tiumen.—The exiles.—Visits to the authorities.

Those who have hitherto written of journeys to Siberia have told of a dismal drive from Perm to Ekaterineburg; but this misfortune did not fall to our lot, since in the autumn of 1878 a railway was opened over the mountains, and the journey is now accomplished in about four-and-twenty hours. The distance is 312 miles, and between the two termini are about 30 stations.⁠[1]

From the prominence given in maps of Europe to the Ural chain, one is apt from childhood to expect in these mountains something grand. The entire length of the range, including its continuation in Novaia Zemlia, is about 1,700 miles. Its highest peak, however, does not attain to more than 6,000 feet, and many parts of the range are not more than 2,000 feet above the sea level. No part of it is permanently covered with snow. Travellers by the old route describe, in passing it, a never-failing object of interest on the frontier in the shape of a stone, on one side of which is written “Europe” and on the other “Asia,” across which, of course, an English boy would stride, and announce that he had stood in two quarters of the globe at once. Travellers by the new route miss this opportunity; but they have its equivalent in three border stations, one of which is called “Europa,” the next “Ural,” and the third “Asia,” through which those who have journeyed can say what no other travellers can, that they have passed by rail from one quarter of the globe into another.

Thus the ease with which one reaches the summit of the Urals is somewhat disappointing, but no such thoughts are suggested by an outlook into the immense country that now lies before the traveller. There stretches far before him a region known as Russia in Asia, the dimensions of which are very hard for the mind to realize. It measures 4,000 miles from east to west, about 2,000 from north to south, and covers nearly five and three-quarter millions of square miles. It is larger by two millions of square miles than the whole of Europe; about twice as big as Australia, and nearly one hundred times as large as England.

The general aspect of the surface may be easily described. The Altai range of mountains, with its offshoots to the east, forms the general features of the southern boundary, and from these heights the land gradually slopes towards the northern tundras or bogs, which extend to the frozen ocean. The country is intersected by three of the largest rivers in the world, the Obi, the Yenesei, and the Lena, not one of which is much less than 3,000 miles long, and all of them, through great part of the year, flow under masses of ice to the Arctic Ocean. A fourth river, the Amur, rising in the Yablonoi mountains, which may be regarded as a part of the eastern slopes of the Altai chain, runs a course also of more than 2,000 miles, but takes an easterly direction, forming part of the southern boundary of the country, and empties itself into the Gulf of Tartary.

The country largely consists of immense steppes, marshes, and pools. Lakes, properly so called, are not numerous, but the greatest of them, the “Baikal,” is in some respects the most remarkable in the world. No less remarkable is the great variety of the inhabitants. They are sometimes classified into five typical races: Sclavonic (including Russians and Poles); Finnish (including Finns, Voguls, Ostjaks, Samoyedes, Yuraki); Turkish (including Tatars, Kirghese, Kalmuks, Yakutes); Mongolian (including Manchu, Buriats, and Tunguses—the last of various denominations); and Chinese, with whom may be classed, though not very accurately, the Gilyaks and Aïnos. In fact, an ethnographical map of Asiatic Russia I bought at Petersburg shows therein no less than 30 peoples or nations.⁠[2]

Many of them, it is true, are but feebly represented, for the entire population does not number more inhabitants than are to be found in seven of the counties of England, and they have not enough men and women in Russian Asia to put one of each in every square mile, whereas every square mile of the seven English counties alluded to has on an average 573 inhabitants. It is difficult to give exact statistics, because, from the wandering life led by many of the aborigines, it is impossible to ascertain their number, and so authorities differ; but the total population, including Russians, is estimated at about 8,000,000. Our attention, however, is to be chiefly confined to Siberia, and it should not be forgotten that Siberia is not co-extensive with the whole of Asiatic Russia, and does not begin, properly speaking, till Ekaterineburg is passed. We have been merely taking a look, from the government of Perm, out of European into Asiatic Russia; this government, as also that of Orenburg, lying partly in Europe and partly in Asia.

Before descending to the foot of the Urals, we arrive at Nijni Tagilsk. At this place we halted for a day to look over the famous Demidoff mines and works. There had been a fire in the town, as at Perm, on the night preceding our arrival; and in seven hours 78 houses had been burnt. Pieces of smoking wood were still flying about. The common people, as before, attributed the fire to incendiaries, such as escaped prisoners, who hoped to profit by the turmoil, and find an occasion for plunder; but more thoughtful people traced it to accidental causes. Demidoff’s workmen had been called out at night to assist as firemen, and were in consequence resting. We could not, therefore, see everything in motion, but enough was visible to make it clear that they were carrying on enormous metallurgical operations. One of the remarkable things to be noticed was a surface mine of magnetic iron ore, blasted and dug out in terraces, carted down by horses and taken to the furnace, where the ore proves so rich that it yields 68 per cent. of iron. We also descended a copper-mine, the mineral from which yields 5 per cent. of metal. We were dressed for the occasion in top-boots, leather hats, and appropriate blouses and trousers, each carrying a lamp, and thus by ladders we descended one shaft of 600 feet and came up another, the water meanwhile trickling upon us freely. At the bottom of the mine they were erecting an English machine for pumping 80 cubic feet of water per minute to the surface. In the engine-room two men at a time spend eight hours daily, for which they each receive in money about fifteen pence. We promised ourselves, as a great feature in the descent of the copper-mine, the seeing of malachite in its natural state, and we were not disappointed. The captain took us through long galleries of timber beams, and then to the spots where the miners had been working. Here, by the light of our lamps, the pieces of green mineral could be clearly seen, and we had the pleasure of digging them out with a pick, and bringing them away as specimens. The price of malachite at the mine is six shillings a Russian pound, if in moderate-sized pieces; twenty shillings when the lumps are large, but only two shillings if they are small.

Besides these copper and magnetic iron mines, they have others of manganese iron ore, which contains 64 per cent. of binoxide of manganese, the peroxide being sold at the rate of about eighteen shillings per hundredweight. Specimens of these and other minerals of great interest to the geologist are exhibited in a museum not far from the works.

Among the remarkable things to be seen at these hives of industry were—a machine for drawing water by a cord from a copper-mine two miles off, a steam-hammer of seven tons weight, an iron furnace of 10,000 cubic feet dimensions, said to be the largest high furnace for wood in the world, and a machine for splitting their fuel wood, of which they burn annually 100,000 sajens—that is to say, a 325 feet cube, or, roughly speaking, a pile of logs twice as big as St. Paul’s Cathedral.⁠[3]

They make steel for Sheffield, and can do castings up to more than 30 tons in weight. Their iron is excelled in quality, I believe, only by that of Dannemora. They have 11 zavods, or “works,” of which eight are connected with iron. But perhaps a better idea can be formed of their vastness by the mention of the number of persons employed, which amounts to 30,000. I heard also 40,000, and both numbers were from heads of departments; but probably the latter estimate includes carters, labourers, and perhaps even women. The Demidoffs pay annually, by way of rates and taxes—to the Commune, £5,000; the Church, £1,500; schools, £2,500; poor and aged, £3,000; together with other sums, amounting in all to about £20,000 a year. Wages, as compared with those in England, appeared low. Common workmen receive from 7½d. to 1s. a day, puddlers 3s., and those in the welding furnace 4s., whilst good rollers receive from 3s. 6d. to 6s. It should be observed, however, that they all have houses rent free, with the piece of land they formerly occupied as serfs.

Before the emancipation, the riches of the Demidoffs were counted in the phrase then usual in Russia as amounting to 56,000 souls.⁠[4] A small church, built on the crest of a neighbouring hill, was pointed out as having been built by the serfs in memory of their freedom; and I was glad to hear from the director, Mr. Wohlstadt (by whom we were courteously entertained), that since the emancipation the men work better and better, knowing, I presume, when serfs, that idleness would be repaid with something not much worse than a beating; whereas now they know they may be discharged.

We slept at the club; and in the morning, before leaving, visited the Demidoff hospital, upon which, and upon institutions of a similar kind, the proprietors spend nearly £4,000 a year. The dimensions of the rooms were such as to allow of three cubic sajens, or 1,200 cubic feet, of air for each of the patients, of whom there were 120 at the time of our visit. Many fractured and amputated limbs were seen dressed with gypsum, alcohol, and camphor; but the most extraordinary thing was a machine in the director’s private room, in which he placed frozen human brains, and for scientific purposes cut them in very thin slices to photograph. The photographs are to be purchased in Paris.

On leaving Tagil we found the temperature much colder,⁠[5] and our journey to Ekaterineburg was somewhat comfortless, from the fact that, anticipating no more cold weather, the officials had not brought in the train the apparatus for heating by steam. At Ekaterineburg I finished railway journeys, amounting to 2,670 miles; and as I was now to bid farewell to the horse of iron and travel by horses of flesh, it is only right to say that of the iron horses which took me across Europe the Russian on the whole was, I think, the best.⁠[6] Our arrival at Ekaterineburg on Saturday evening was expected, and quarters were provided for me through the kindness of Messrs. Egerton Hubbard. Ekaterineburg is a handsome town of 30,000 inhabitants, and has many fine churches and other buildings. On Sunday I visited the hospital, and also an orphanage for 100 children, which has been built and is supported by local voluntary effort. This kind of institution is not yet very common among the Russians. It was regarded as a novelty, and was the only one of its precise kind that we saw in Asia.

Formerly there were several Englishmen living at Ekaterineburg, but a few only are now left, and so little practice do they have in the tongue of their fathers that some of them are rapidly forgetting it. Instances of this were met with further east, and another case in which English parents were allowing their children to grow up speaking only Russian, the result of which would be that the son who had been sent for his education to England would forget Russian, and, on coming back to Siberia, would not be able to speak to his sister who had not learnt English.

Ekaterineburg is a famous place for the cutting of precious stones, in which Siberia is rich. Near the river Argun are found the jacinth, the Siberian emerald, the onyx, and beautiful jaspers, of which there are at least a hundred varieties. Near Lake Baikal are found red garnets and lapis lazuli, and the Altai mountains furnish the opal. Several of these are also found near Ekaterineburg, together with the beryl, the topaz, the chrysolite, the aqua marine, the tourmaline, rhodonite, nephrite, ophite, selenite, and the recently-discovered Alexandrite, which exhibits two colors—crimson and green—the one by day and the other by night. The stone derives its name from the Emperor Alexander, whose colours it shows. These stones are cut in the Government workshops and in private houses, and may be purchased at moderate prices.

South of Ekaterineburg, towards Orenburg, are villages where may be purchased uncommon souvenirs in the shape of gentlemen’s scarves and gloves, together with kozy pookh, or, as they are more commonly called, Orenburg shawls. They are made from the wool of the goats of the Kirghese, who allow the Cossacks to comb their flocks at the rate of from eight-pence to a shilling per head. Twice a year the goats are washed and combed, first with a coarse and then with a fine comb. To make a good shawl employs a woman six months, and then, if it be a large one, it sells at first hand for about fifty shillings; but very much higher prices are asked in Petersburg.

We stayed three days at Ekaterineburg to lay in provisions and gather our forces for proceeding by horses. The greater part of my heavy luggage had been dispatched by slow train to Ekaterineburg fully a month before me, but it did not reach its destination till the day after my arrival. The agent said it might have been waiting on the road for the chance of other goods to make up a load. A tarantass had been very kindly placed at my disposal by Mr. Oswald Cattley, whose name, some time since, was before the public in connection with the opening up of a new trade on the Obi; and in this we packed ourselves and some of our personal baggage, placing the rest with several boxes in a second conveyance, and leaving still a third load of boxes to be forwarded as luggage. In this fashion, after receiving all sorts of kindness and hospitality from our English friends, we started on Tuesday evening, May 27th, for Tiumen, a distance of 204 miles, which was accomplished in 43 continuous hours.

Tiumen is situated on the Tura, and has a population of from 15,000 to 20,000 inhabitants. Commercially speaking, it is the most important town in Western Siberia, and through it pass the water carriage of the Obi, as well as the caravans coming from China and the East. Here we found an English engineering firm, conducted by Messrs. Wardropper, who were particularly kind to us. To Tiumen all the exiles are brought from Europe, and from thence are distributed over Siberia. I needed not, therefore, the eye of a general to see that, for my purpose of distributing books over the land, this was the key to a very important position. It was desirable, therefore, that I should see some of the magnates of the town who were members of the prison committee, and, if possible, secure their sympathy and co-operation.

Accordingly I was taken to visit the Mayor, who was building a large commercial school for the benefit of the town, at a cost of more than £20,000, which, when finished, was to be handed over to the Government. He is a merchant who has made his way to the front, and now entertains the Governor-General when he passes through, though otherwise he lives quietly. His house, when we called, was in preparation for one of those viceregal receptions, and, knowing that his worship was rich, I busied myself, during the Russian conversation, in scanning what I supposed might be considered appropriate study furniture for a wealthy Siberian. The Mayor, I had heard, was fond of good horses, which accounted for the winner-of-the-Derby-like engravings hanging on the wall, the whole of which might have been purchased, I judged, in London for twenty shillings. The room, as is the custom of the country, was not carpeted, and the furniture consisted of a bare, polished, wooden bench, bored with holes, in patterns after the fashion of American street cars. The chairs were of wood, similarly ornamented. The table had about it some fretwork, and on it various writing materials, and accompaniments more or less artistic. I mentally appraised the whole as being worth about £20, and admired the simplicity of a man who could be content with a study thus furnished, whilst he was giving away a thousand times its value. My cogitations served to recall what had struck me in Norway and Sweden, when observing how much simpler, as regards furniture, people are content to live in these northern countries than in England, though I did not discern that they were less happy than we are. After leaving the house, I broached the subject approvingly to my friend who was with me, upon which I found that I had undervalued the furniture, and that it was of American manufacture, and the first of the kind imported into the town.

I was taken also to call upon a prominent member of the prison committee, Mr. Ignatoff, of the firm of Kourbatoff and Ignatoff. They have steamers on the Kama and Obi, and hold the Government contract for the transport in barges of exiles. He was much interested in my scheme of visiting prisons, and was so pleased with my account of the Howard Association in London, of which I said I was a member, and which had for its object the prevention of crime and promoting the best methods for the treatment and reformation of prisoners, that he spoke of asking to be allowed at once to join the Association.⁠[7] He kindly undertook to do all he could to further the distribution of the books I engaged to send to him; and I was glad to have called, not only for the information obtained, but for the interest excited, though I was hardly prepared for the very practical and generous form which this interest took, which will be hereafter alluded to.

We called afterwards on the Ispravnik, or chief man of the district, and presented my letter, with the view of visiting the prisons. I heard that in his district there were 24 schools, and, having made arrangements for providing them with tracts, I went to see the prison. From statistics given me for the previous year, it appeared that a total of 20,711 prisoners passed through the hands of the authorities in 1878.⁠[8] This opens up the whole subject of prisons and exiles, which is to form a leading feature of these pages, and therefore I think it will be better to devote separate chapters to both, in which general ideas can be given. This will save repetition, and it will then be easy to illustrate general principles by particular incidents as we meet them from time to time in travelling and visiting prisons from the Urals to the Pacific.