Through Siberia

Departure for Petersburg.—Official receptions.—Minister of the Interior.—Metropolitan of Moscow.—Introductions.—Books forwarded.—Departure for Moscow.—Nijni Novgorod.—Site of the fair.—Joined by interpreter.—Kasan.—Bulgarian antiquities.—Neighbouring heathen.—Idolatrous objects and practices.—Departure from Kasan.—The Volga and the Kama.—Arrival at Perm.

On Wednesday morning, 30th April, 1879, I left London, and reached Petersburg on the following Saturday evening, to find at my hotel a pleasant welcome in the shape of an invitation to breakfast with Lord Dufferin on the Monday morning. This was due to letters with which I had been favoured from high quarters in England, and one result of which, thanks to the kindness of the British Ambassador, was an introductory letter to M. Makoff, the Minister of the Interior, which I presented to his Excellency on Tuesday. Whilst waiting in the ante-room with other suitors, there was time for cogitation as to what the answer might be. My Petersburg friends gave me small hope of success; on the contrary, one of them, high in authority, who had helped me before, had gone so far as to say, “Why, it is not likely that, with so many political prisoners therein, they will allow him to go through the prisons of Siberia now.” I drew encouragement, however, from the fact that a ministerial letter had been given me the previous year, which I thought would be registered in the archives, and, trusting there was on it nothing against me, I hoped that this would be in my favour. At length, when I was ushered into the Minister’s presence, he scarcely looked at the Ambassador’s letter, but referred to my having had the document the previous year, and said at once that there was no objection to my having another; upon which, flushed with success, I bowed and retired.

This emboldened me to go to another dignitary, and, having a friend to interpret, I went straight from the Minister to the new Metropolitan of Moscow, to present a letter from the Archbishop of Canterbury, addressed “To the Metropolitans of the Church of Russia, or others whom it may concern.” His Eminence appeared in a brown silk moiré-antique robe, glittering with jewelled decorations, and wearing as is usual the white crape hat of a metropolitan, with a diamond cross in front. He stood on little ceremony, and, almost before I had made my bow, he shook my hand, gave me a fraternal kiss on either cheek, and motioned me to a seat beside him. He then entered with zest into my scheme for distributing the Scriptures, said that the Russians had not the means to perform all they would, and commended the English for what they were doing. He asked a few questions relative to Church matters in England, regretted that we had no language in common in which we could converse, and then cordially wished me God speed.

I had thus made an excellent beginning. The next thing to be done was to get additional introductions, and this I tried to do so as to find my way amongst various classes of people. A letter from Mr. Glaisher, the aeronaut, and formerly of the Greenwich Observatory, opened the way for me to scientific people, more especially those taking meteorological observations in European and Asiatic Russia; an introduction from a German pastor brought me into contact with the educational world through Mr. Maack, the late General-Inspector of Schools for Eastern Siberia; a third and a fourth introduction procured letters to the Finns and the German pastors throughout Siberia; and a fifth to the telegraph officers, most of whom speak English, French, or German. Messrs. Egerton Hubbard took me under their wing, and kindly arranged to forward money and letters; and I had various mercantile introductions, together with several of a social character, to persons of different standing, from the Governors-General of Siberia downwards. All told, my introductions, as far as Kiakhta, numbered 133. It is, however, a traveller’s axiom that, “Of good introductions, store is no sore,” and many of mine proved to be worth their weight in gold.

My Petersburg friends were delighted at the Minister’s reply, and, as the sun was shining, they determined to make their hay. They urged me to take still more books—5,000 additional pamphlets of one kind, especially suited for schools; and this notwithstanding that upwards of 25,000 of a miscellaneous character had already been forwarded by slow transit to the Urals. My willingness, however, was limited only by my capabilities of carriage, and, accordingly, as many more books were taken as, together with my personal baggage and those gone before, would fill three Russian post waggons; and this I thought would be about as many as, under the circumstances, it was possible for me to take.

After a busy stay of nine days in the Russian capital, I left for Moscow on the afternoon of Monday, the 12th of May, and arrived the following morning. The only business that detained me there was to inquire of some ladies, who devote themselves to work among the prisoners, how many and what books they were distributing among the exiles, so that I might not do their work over again. I found, however, that their labours were directed more especially to the temporal good of the prisoners—looking after their wives, placing out their children, finding them clothes, and such like useful works, rather than seeking directly their spiritual good, though this had to some extent been attempted by lending and occasionally giving them books to read in the prison. Accordingly, I left Moscow by rail on Wednesday evening, to arrive after thirteen hours at Nijni Novgorod, on the Volga.

May is not a good time to see this famous place. The river overflows its banks in spring to a depth of several feet, and covers the site of the wonderful fair, in anticipation of which the lower storeys of the warehouses and buildings are cleared; and to cleanse them before July is one of the first things to be done by the owners, who with their goods arrive yearly from all parts of the world. I was rowed in a boat through the streets (which are called after the names of the merchandise sold therein) to see the Chinese quarter, with pagoda-like buildings; the Persian quarter, the two cathedrals, the theatre, the Governor’s house, etc., all of which are used only during the fair, and were now empty. The nearest approach to a fair that I saw was a gathering near the entrance to the Kremlin, where were men standing with their stock-in-trade in their hands or slung over their shoulders—one with a pair of boots, another with a shirt, and a third with a pair of trousers or other garments, and for which each was ready to bargain and chaffer. Hitherto I had travelled alone. I now stayed at Nijni Novgorod to be joined by a young man who was to be my companion and interpreter, and then, leaving by steamer on Friday at mid-day, we reached Kasan early on Saturday morning, there to spend Sunday, the 18th of May.

The covered heads and veiled faces of the women, together with the tawny porters carrying their huge burdens, speedily reminded us that we had reached an ancient Tatar city. The only tourists’ lion we visited was Mr. Lichatcheff’s collection of Bulgarian antiquities. He very kindly and politely showed us through the rooms of his house, which were crammed with curiosities. Among them were rude implements of the stone age, ancient oriental lamps, and ancient crosses, one of which, dating from the eleventh or twelfth century, was without the foot-piece now found on the Russian cross, which foot-piece, our informant considered, was not used on Russian crosses in the earliest times. There were also some stone Byzantine crosses. The Bulgarian antiquities had been found on the banks of the Volga, showing the location of that people before their migration further south.

Another point of interest in Kasan must not be passed over. I had supposed that heathen rites and practices were now in Europe a thing of the past. We heard, however, of five nationalities scattered through Russia, but found more, especially in the Kasan government, who, though nominally Christian, still resort to idolatrous superstitions. They are called Tcheremisi, Mordvar, Vodeki, Tchuvashi, and Tatars; and the Russian Government is adopting means for their enlightenment by taking peasant boys from among them, and training them for schoolmasters and priests. A seminary devoted to this purpose, situated near the Tatar quarter of the town, was shown to us by the principal, Professor Ilminski.⁠[1]

In or near the Bishop’s house in the Kremlin we were introduced to Mr. Zoloneetski, who trains young men to be mission priests to the nationalities whence they have been brought. In 1878 he had twenty-one students, some of them from the seminary just mentioned. He gives them lectures on aboriginal languages, customs, and superstitions, and shows them how to bring the natives to Christianity. This he does in part by exposing various idolatrous objects, of which he has a curious collection. Among them was a Tchuvash idol, consisting of a block of wood, to which pieces of cloth were brought as offerings. This had been used less than ten years before. Another piece of superstition came from the Tcheremisi,⁠[2] and was less than twelve months old. There was also to be seen a rudely-cut box containing coins. Some of them were ancient, but were supposed to have been offered recently by Tatars, nominally Christian. It would seem that a Tatar sometimes makes a vow to the spirit of the forest to dedicate a horse, cow, or some other animal; but not having a victim, or not having it to spare at the time, he leaves money as a pledge of good faith, and then, when able to fulfil his vow, reclaims his coin.

Some of these objects had been obtained through friends and some by fraud, but there was a curious story connected with the boxes. A missionary priest (a friend of our informant), knowing of their existence, went to a family in his parish, and asked if he might take away their idolatrous things. They answered at first in the negative; but, after he had left the house, a woman came out to draw water, and told him she thought it would be much better if he would steal the things, for then they would have less money to bring and fewer prayers to say. The priest, therefore, returned at night, when the family pretended to be soundly asleep (so that the spirit might not be offended with what took place whilst they were unconscious), mounted the loft, took the things, and subsequently gave them to our informant.

We quitted Kasan on Monday morning in one of Lubimoff’s steamers, and, after proceeding two or three hours down the Volga, left that river to finish its career of 2,200 miles, whilst we turned into one of its affluents, the Kama, which is no mean river in itself, having a course of 1,400 miles. The junction of the two streams presents a fine expanse of water, but the banks are too flat to be pretty. Steamboat travelling in Russia is not expensive, the first-class fare from Nijni Novgorod to Perm, a four days’ journey, being only 36s.

After a voyage of three days and a half from Kasan we reached Perm, where the people were in great excitement consequent on the burning of two “quartals,” or large blocks of buildings. The roofs and houses of the town were described as being covered, during the previous night, with women, watching lest sparks should fall on their property, whilst their husbands helped to extinguish the fire; and so great was the fear of a general conflagration, that some sent their wives and families into the neighbouring villages. Others we saw encamped by the bank of the river, whilst on a grass plot near a church were others tired out and fast asleep beside the chattels they had rescued. Not long before, Orenburg and Irbit had been burnt, and were supposed by some to have been wilfully set on fire, and so excited were the inhabitants of Perm, and so ready to snap up persons at all suspected, that we were cautioned, as being strangers, to walk in the middle of the road. We then visited the hospital, saw the Governor, and left some books for the Perm institutions; but I was reserving my strength for Siberia, and the same evening the train was to carry us to the top of the Urals.