Through Siberia

Gold in Siberia.—Where found.—Gold-hunting.—A prospecting party.—Thawing the ground.—Subterranean passages.—Hardships.—Mining calculations.—Building of barracks.—Preparations for our visit.—Costumes.—Road through the “forest primeval.”—Luxuriant vegetation.—Crossing mountains.—Arrival at mine.—Labour of miners.—Gold-washing machine.—Government inspection.—Wages.—Hours of labour.—Miners’ food.—Pay-day.—Drink and its follies.—Miners’ fortunes.—Mines of Eastern Siberia.—Return to Krasnoiarsk.

Not many Englishmen, probably, would think of going to Siberia to seek for El-dorado, the fabled land of gems and gold. Many tons of precious metals, however, are found there yearly; and there are firms, consisting of only two or three partners, that net an annual income of more than half-a-million sterling. The Russian empire furnishes an eighth part of the gold found yearly throughout the world, and three-fourths of this quantity come from Siberia. It was at the beginning of the century that gold-washing was commenced in the Urals, and a period of great prosperity followed from 1825 to about 1850. Since that time, the number of mines has increased, but the profits are less, because, whilst the value of gold has diminished, the price of labour has risen. The sources and affluents of the great Siberian rivers are rich in gold. The districts on the west of Lake Baikal that are most worked are those of Yeneseisk, Irkutsk, Kansk, Nijni-Udinsk, and the sources of the Lena, which last are the richest.⁠[1]

Accordingly, when we arrived at Krasnoiarsk, the large town of the Yeneseisk gold-mining district, and made acquaintance with some of the gold-seekers’ families, it appeared a good opportunity to visit one of the mines, since they were called “near.” It was rather alarming, however, to discover what were the Siberians’ notions of the word near, for in that huge country 100 miles or more go for nothing—in fact, are a mere trifle, and not too long to be travelled for the sake of a ball or a festive gathering. The gold-seekers’ daughters even sometimes go out to their fathers’ mines within this distance, and, when they do so, stride their horses in top-boots and knickerbockers to save their dresses being torn in the primeval forest, or, as it is called, the taiga. When, therefore, I found that a pair of high boots would be necessary, and that it would involve a long journey on horseback, I rather hesitated. We had, however, been introduced to the Director of the Krasnoiarsk Hospital, Dr. Peacock; and when it appeared that not only he, but Mrs. Peacock also, would join the party, my courage rose, and I determined to go.

But, before we start, let me try to give the reader some idea as to the localities in which the gold is found, and how it is discovered. In the mountainous districts of the forest countless brooks unite into rivulets, which, in accordance with the character of the landscape, have a strong fall, becoming very rapid in the spring, and still more so in the summer, after the melting of the snow. The waters uproot trees, undermine rocks, and sweep along earth, gold, and other metals with resistless fury, till the lowlands are reached, where the stream, having no longer the same force, allows the heavy gold to sink to the bottom, to be covered, perhaps, next season with more gold, or, perhaps, by earth and rubbish. It will be easy to understand, then, how a layer of sand containing gold may be thus formed, and subsequently covered over with beds of earth and stone.

The professional tayoshnik, or gold-hunter, has to discover these auriferous layers; but this he cannot do alone.⁠[2] There must be a prospecting party made up, which may consist, say, of an overseer, a leader, 8 workmen, 10 horses, 18 saddle-bags, provisions, and tools, the whole of which may be estimated to cost £500, which amount has to be risked, for the party may go out into the taiga and find nothing, or what may prove worse than nothing.⁠[3]

The tayoshnik knows, however, that the Siberian gold deposits are almost always to be met with on the banks of streams, or in their beds. Again, gold is often hidden in crevices of the earth that have evidently once served as channels for running water. Moreover, he knows that those rivers that wash up gold are always such as have their sources in ravines, the rocks of which are very much weather-beaten. Gold is rarely found at precipitous spots, and is most abundant where the water ages ago had a calmer current, and consequently no longer possessed the necessary strength to carry the heavy metal along.⁠[4]

The hunter must, however, dig some depth beneath the surface, the thickness of the beds of earth covering the gold varying from 2 to 20 feet, though it increases sometimes to 150 feet. At some spots three or four gold deposits, or plasts, as they are called, lie one over the other, separated by thick strata of earth and rocks, in which case the lowest of the plasts is generally the richest.⁠[5]

With knowledge of this kind, therefore, the gold-hunter proceeds till he arrives at a valley along which he judges some ancient river ages ago may have rolled down its golden sands. He then seeks in the bed of the rivulet for pyrites, iron, slate-clay, or quartz with a thick coat of crystals; and at length he forms a judgment as to whether or not he is likely by digging to find a gold deposit. If his verdict be favourable, then all hands are set to work to cut down trees and build a rude log hut, in which the party may have to live for months. The next business is to dig a number of holes or trenches at a distance from each other, to get down to the auriferous layers—that is, if there are any; for if there be none, their labour of course is lost, and they have to try elsewhere. But if there be auriferous layers, it is no easy matter to get to them, for gold-hunting is usually followed in the winter, often with the thermometer many degrees below zero, and when the ground is so hard as not to be pierced even by a pickaxe; they have, therefore, to make huge bonfires, whereby the earth is softened, so as to allow trenches of considerable depth to be dug. This manœuvre has to be repeated until the longed-for gold is found, or unyielding stone presents an impenetrable obstacle.⁠[6]

These trenches or holes are made under the superintendence of the overseer. Samples of the earth are constantly tried, and so guidance is obtained as to the direction in which other work should be begun, and some idea formed as to the depth and breadth of the beds of gold. Often, however, the metal lies so far beneath the surface that it would scarcely be possible to dig out all the trenches begun. In such cases the wider ones are sunk into wells or shafts, and subterranean passages are made.⁠[7]

Thus the work of testing a locality may take some little time; meanwhile the workmen and overseer live in their wretched hut, which often is not well roofed, and heated only by a portable stove. The wind whistles through the cracks of the moss-calked walls, an insupportable heat reigns in the vicinity of the stove, while, on the opposite walls, icicles gleam like brilliants, and melting snow falls from above. The air is rendered poisonous by the exhalations of the inmates and the vapour ascending from damp clothing hung near the fire to dry. In fact, as the workmen say, the atmosphere is thick enough “to hang up an axe in.” However, in the wilderness, even such a shelter is a longed-for refuge when a fierce snowstorm is raging and the thermometer has sunk to far below zero.

But the climate is not the only hardship the gold-hunter has to encounter. His provisions consist of black rusks, dried meat, tea, and a little brandy; and often he does not possess as much as could be wished even of this meagre fare, for he is obliged to carry with it all requisite tools and weapons on his beasts of burden, and communication with civilized centres or depôts is usually difficult, and in spring sometimes impossible. My interpreter told me he had an uncle, who was a tayoshnik, who made an income of about £1,000 a year, but had sometimes, for want of better food, to eat bear’s flesh.

But supposing the overseer to have discovered a promising spot, and to have tested the earth from several holes, he can then strike an average as to the amount of gold that may be got from every hundred poods—that is, every 32 cwt., or say every ton and a half—of sand. If the amount be five zolotniks,—say, ¾ oz., this is thought rich; if less than ⅛ oz. it is very poor; sometimes, however, ½ lb. of gold even is found to 100 poods of sand. The overseer has next to calculate whether it will pay to work the mine.⁠[8]

If, when all things are calculated, the land promises to pay, he sticks up two posts, one on each end of the area he has chosen, despatches a courier to his employer, and the place is registered at once by the commissary of police or other competent authority from the local Direction of Mines. The area is then thoroughly surveyed by a Government surveyor, who makes a map of the spot, and, when all is secured to the finder, the proprietor can at once borrow money on the security of his mine, paying at the rate of from 20 to 30 per cent., according as money is scarce or plentiful. Many capitalists, content with this interest, employ all their money in this way.⁠[9]

The next thing is to build the necessary houses and barracks for the future manager of the mine and his workmen, the number of which may vary from 10 to 2,000. Provisions and fuel provided, then the digging begins about the middle of February, and the washing about the 1st of May, the operations being over on the 10th of September, or, if the weather be unusually fine, on the 1st of November. When a mine has been registered, it must be worked to some extent, or it is forfeited to the Crown. The owner, however, may sell it if he pleases, but it must not remain idle.

It was to a mine that had been opened the same year that we were to start from Krasnoiarsk. It was called the Archangel Gabriel mine, and was situated on the river Slisneva, at a spot nearly 30 miles from the Yenesei. Our worthy doctor arrayed himself for the occasion in the costume of a Tyrolese hunter, with a double gun over his shoulders, a revolver and bowie-knife in his belt, and a huntsman’s horn; for he hoped, he said, that we might chance to meet with a bear—a hope that I cannot say was shared by all the party. I know at least of one who hoped we should not meet with a bear. However, it was by no means unlikely, and I accordingly armed Mr. Interpreter with our revolver. Madame Peacock wore a black velvet hat, a magenta chemisette, a brown tweed tunic, black knickerbockers, and top boots; and thus, with a few provisions, we started in the afternoon to cross the Yenesei to the village of Basaïka. The water was more than 20 feet higher than it had risen for 30 years, the ferry had been washed away, and the force of the stream carried down our boat a good mile ere we reached the opposite bank; and then, after wading through a great deal of mud and water, in doing which we learned to appreciate high boots, we reached the village, and took refreshment before mounting our steeds. We then advanced in single file from the village through the cultivated bottom-land, and afterwards through much grass, that was very like penetrating a forest of herbs, to which our horses took kindly, for they had scarcely to stoop their heads to nibble their fodder. Although the summer was young, there were to be seen the acacia in blossom, currants, and raspberries; and among flowers, the bitter vetch, the spiræa, anemones, Flora’s bell, high pæonies, aconite, or wolf’s bane, and large dragon-mouths; also abundance of ferns, among them one strongly resembling the Osmunda regalis, and the magnificent Struthiopteris germanica, which attains to gigantic growth in Siberia; and even the trunks of the trees and the granite rocks were covered with a rich variety of lichens and verdant mosses.

Thus far, therefore, everything was going well. The evening was delightful, and all were in excellent spirits. Soon, however, our guide turned into the forest, and we had before us the first of two mountains over whose backs we were to climb, thinking to reach our destination by nightfall. At this point we began to get some idea of what is meant by “the forest primeval,” for sometimes the way was all but impassable by reason of masses of shattered-down dry wood; now our horses stepped over fallen trees, and now waded knee-deep up the beds of rivulets; in some places we met with snow-white skeletons of dead trees with branching arms; in others the way, indicated by notches on the trees, had been cut with an axe.

As we mounted higher and higher, we had before us a fine, bold, rocky mountain, lit up with the sinking sun. My companions called to me to look back, and we had a splendid view of the noble Yenesei at sunset, of its verdant bottom-lands on either side, its impetuous stream, and magnificent forests.

We then prepared for our first descent. But it became dusk, and the overshadowing trees made our difficulty the greater. My horse, however, seemed to know so well what he was about, that I was minded to keep my seat and hope for the best. But when all my companions, including Madame and the guide, had dismounted, and advised me to do the same if I valued my neck, I followed suit till the valley was reached. We then remounted for a short distance, by which time it was quite dark, and for a short space some of the party were lost to the others. All came right, however, towards midnight, when we saw afar off the glimmering of a candle. This we hailed with a lusty blast of the doctor’s horn, thinking to awake the inhabitants. Our coming had not been expected, but letters from the owners of the mine secured us attention, and such hospitality as the place afforded. “Let us have the samovar,” said the doctor; “and bring a good large one, please, for we shall empty it.”

And he was true to his word; for although they brought a twenty-glass samovar, it went out empty. Russians, however, be it remembered, think nothing of drinking from eight to a dozen glasses of tea, and we were in need of refreshment!

Then came the question of sleep. They had but one room to offer us. Madame, therefore, lay on what might be called by courtesy a sofa. The bedstead was politely given to me, and the doctor and interpreter lay on the floor. Thus we managed to rest till about five in the morning, when we were called. Our toilets had to be speedily arranged, and our faces washed with a handful or two of water outside the door, for there was no sort of washing apparatus to be seen. After some tea and rusks, we started to witness the working of the gold-mine.

I had seen the Swedish iron-mines of Dannemora, and had gone down a copper-mine in the Urals; but the gold-mine was something new. There was no underground work going on, and no digging of holes and sending up the earth to be washed; but the whole surface had been laid bare. Hence the work resembled that of English navvies making a cutting. There were a number of small carts drawn by Siberian horses, and men with pickaxes and shovels filling them. When full, the carts were drawn up an incline to a platform, and emptied into one end of a large iron cylinder, resembling a coffee-roaster, with holes all round it. This was made to rotate by water-power, and the large stones and pebbles were, by the formation and turning of the cylinder, tumbled out at the end. Here they were duly watched, so that no nuggets should be overlooked. At the same time several streams of water were poured into the cylinder, and the earth and small pebbles, passing through the holes, fell into a long wooden apron, inclined at an angle of 35°, with moveable boxes or “pockets.”

In order that we might see how the gold was washed, the manager caused some of these pockets to be emptied on to an inclined plane of clean wood, raised at either side, and over which ran equably and slowly a stream of clear water. One of the pockets (called dundofka) was then emptied on the higher part of the plane, and the water soon washed away the mud, the man who performed the washing having a wooden scraper, like that of a scavenger, with which he pushed back the descending grains of gold. This was repeated till six poods, or say 200 lbs., of washed earth had been placed on the board. After the mud and sand had been allowed to roll away, a brush was used instead of the scraper, and there remained behind perhaps a small teaspoonful of gold-dust, or as much as was roughly valued at from 40s. to 50s. The gold was then placed in a miniature frying-pan, and held over a small fire to dry, after which it was put into what resembled a “poor-box.” This was done in the presence of a Government official, of whom there is always one at every mine, and who is usually a Cossack officer.⁠[10]

The gold thus gained is eventually poured into bags of coarse linen, which, after having been stamped with the brand of the mine, are sewn in leather sacks⁠[11] and taken to Irkutsk or Barnaul, where it is assayed; and afterwards there is deducted the tax of from 5 to 10 per cent., according to the quantity. Gold assignats are given in exchange, payable in six months, or they may be cashed at the Government bank at a discount of 7 per cent. per annum. Thus all the gold found in the country is claimed by the Government, and it is unlawful for any person to have gold-dust in his possession unknown to the authorities.

After we had seen the manner of washing the gold we walked into the barracks, the hospital, stables, and the houses for the 200 or 300 workmen. I have spoken of the hardships that are endured by a prospecting party. Yet, despite all their privations and dangers, there is never a lack of persons who volunteer their services to wealthy projectors, for they receive large wages. The overseer who discovers the mine generally stipulates that he shall receive from 1 to 5 per cent. on the yield; and the percentage given to some of the others on a lucky find is very liberal. The ordinary labourers, too, such as we saw, are well paid. Among them, of course, is a great variety of races and people. There meet at the mines the nobleman and the Siberian peasant; the former officer of the army and the pardoned convict; the Pole, the German, the Tatar, and numberless others, who work in common, now freezing in the icy blasts of winter, and now scorching in the heat of the summer sun. They work intensely hard (sometimes from 3 a.m. to 7 p.m.), and observe no Sundays or saints’ days, excepting that of the patron saint of the mine. But in most cases they have wholesome food, warm quarters, and attention in sickness.

Some of them, however, run away. It happens occasionally that a man may have secreted gold, with which he gets off as early as possible; and some, not reckoning aright the difficulties of travelling so far alone, have been found starved, the useless gold clutched in the grasp of lifeless fingers. We found some attention paid to what might be called the fanaticism of the Mohammedan workmen; the Tatars being placed alone, and convenience being afforded them to cook their food in their own way. A separate barrack, too, was assigned to married men with their wives. Over an outdoor fire hung a large caldron, big enough to boil a donkey—the largest I had ever seen. This, I presumed, was for cooking the meat; and in the bake-house we saw abundance of rye bread, of which some of the men eat 7 lbs. in a day. Their beverages are tea and quass. It is forbidden by law to sell spirituous liquors at the mines. Only the managers have the right to keep them in their possession, though this sensible regulation is often evaded by contrabandists.

When the 10th of September arrives, and the workmen receive their pay, they break forth into the wildest excesses. Before leaving the mine, each labourer gets a ticket, setting forth what he is to receive, which may vary from £20 to £50. This ticket he has to present some miles away at his employer’s office, and there, awaiting him outside, are merchants and dealers, who manage soon to empty his pockets. He too frequently begins by drinking; and then the man who has toiled harder than a slave for months is often at a loss to know upon what objects and follies to lavish his money.

Captain Wiggins says that he never witnessed among the Siberian miners, such scenes of depravity and disorder as may be witnessed among the Australian and Californian miners, or even, at times, in the low streets of English seaport towns. Another Englishman, however, has told me a different story, to the effect that one miner, for instance, will take a common woman and clothe her in satin and velvet, and then, a week after, when money is gone, will tear the clothes from her back to raise capital for drink. Another, of a vain turn of mind, buys bottles of champagne, and sticks them up in a row to throw stones at; a third will buy a piece of printed cotton, or other material, lay it down in the dirty road, and, to indulge his aristocratic tread, will walk on it; whilst a fourth, despising to be drawn by horses, will yoke to his telega his fellow-fools who have spent their money, and so be drawn by human beings. The end of this, of course, is that their money is speedily gone; and now comes the opportunity of the masters for the following year, since they know that they shall want the men again, and labour is scarce. Employers, therefore, advance them money, and the poor sots start off to walk, perhaps, 500 miles to their homes or friends, where, having arrived, they must needs return in a few months to begin the labours of another season.

The managers of mines, some of whom make £1,000 a year, congregate in the winter in the towns, where much drinking and card-playing goes on. If capitalists are fortunate, they can make and keep large fortunes. Two gold-seekers in Krasnoiarsk are reputed to have found, in about 10 years, 1,000 poods of gold, of the value, say, of £2,000,000 sterling. We dined at the house of one of these men.⁠[12]

But to return to the Archangel Gabriel mine. After we had looked at the buildings, and seen what else there was of interest, we returned to a breakfast of beefsteaks, left some books for the workmen, and then, mounting our steeds, returned towards Krasnoiarsk; and, seeing that four persons similarly attired might not meet again for awhile, I proposed that, on reaching the town, we should be photographed in a group. This was done; and so ended one of the pleasantest détours of our journey.