I was much disappointed to find, on reaching the principal hotel, the Moskovskaia Podvorié, that its glories, of which I had heard so much, were things of the past, and that as a hotel it no longer existed. True, the imposing three-storied building still remained, but under a new designation, for it is now the head-quarters of the Irkutsk military staff, and is known as the Etat Major of the city. A few chambres meublées in the upper stories are all that remain of what was, two years ago, the best hotel in Siberia. I afterwards learnt that its failure was owing to its having been got up on far too grand a scale for the place, and that its promoters had lost a “pot of money” over it while it was open. Of course there were many other hotels, so I left the matter in the hands of the yemschik, for my foot was so painful that I felt absolutely indifferent as to where or how I was lodged, so long as I could get out of the sledge and lie down quietly somewhere. But it was evidently the height of the season in Irkutsk and the city crammed, for everywhere I was told they were “full.” At last, however, after a lot of driving about, I found a place where they had one room just vacant. It was a really smart and imposing-looking hotel from outside, and quite a “find,” as I imagined—till I got inside the building, when I found myself in one of the dirtiest places of its kind I had yet seen in Siberia. The contrast between the exterior and the interior was simply startling. Much, however, as I was disgusted with it, I was so sick of hunting about for lodgings that I determined to put up with it for a short time; at any rate, till my foot was better. With the help of Matwieff I therefore made myself as comfortable as I could on two chairs (for I did not like the look of the sofa), and composed myself for “forty winks” whilst waiting for the “something to eat” which I had ordered, for the accident to my foot had not interfered with my appetite. But I found it impossible to have a nap, on account of certain strange noises round the room. At first I could not make out what they were occasioned by, but I soon discovered after a slight inspection. The wall-paper, which was stretched over a wooden foundation, did not touch the wood everywhere, and the curious noise was produced by myriads of blackbeetles, cockroaches, and other vermin running up and down the wall and in and out of holes they had eaten in the paper. This cheerful discovery decided me at once to clear out of the place, and chance finding something better elsewhere.

Suddenly an idea occurred to me. I had a letter of introduction to a Mr. Charles Lee, an English engineer living in Irkutsk, a brother of the unfortunate man who lost his life on our way up the Yenisei, so I sent this letter to him, with a note telling him of my accident, and asking if he could recommend me some other hotel to go to. My good luck had not quite deserted me, for in a few minutes came back a message saying he would himself be round to see me directly, and shortly after he arrived. On seeing my helpless condition, this good Samaritan insisted on my immediately leaving the hotel and going to stay at his house, to be nursed till my foot was well; and, so as to ensure my not refusing, he gave orders for my luggage to be forthwith removed. In a very short time I was in a snug room, surrounded by every comfort; so, although the doctor said I should have to remain indoors and not move for a week, I felt that I should be in luck’s way if my lines were always cast in such pleasant places. Under kind nursing my injured ankle got rapidly well, so much so that I was soon able to get about again, and with the assistance, though much against the wish, of my hospitable friend, find convenient lodgings in the city. So it was a further proof of “all’s well that end’s well.”

Containing forty thousand inhabitants, the capital of Eastern Siberia covers an enormous extent of ground, being nearly two miles in each direction—the principal street, or Bolshoi Oulitza, itself over a mile in length. My first impressions on walking up this noble thoroughfare were very different indeed from what I had anticipated, for it was hard to realize how near one was to the Chinese frontier, and how far from a railway; the whole scene was one of absolutely European character, and reminded me not a little of many capitals I have visited. It was quite a relief, after the desolate look of the streets at Krasnoiarsk and Yeniseisk, owing to the apparent absence of shops, to see here the handsome buildings with large plate-glass windows, in which were displayed every description of European goods; and my surprise was the more natural, for, from what I had read, I was led to believe that nowhere in Siberia would I find the streets enlivened by the shop displays which give so much life and character to a place. But what astonished me most pleasantly in this far-away Siberian city was to see the fair sex dressed in the very latest of Parisian fashions, for I saw costumes in the Bolshoi Oulitza which would have looked smart even in Bond Street or the Rue de la Paix, and, as added to which I don’t think I was ever in a place which for its size could boast of more pretty faces, the effect on a bright sunny afternoon may be imagined.

Irkutsk is not nearly so cold a place as Krasnoiarsk, for, according to Keane, the mean winter temperature is only minus 4 deg. Fahr., and the summer temperature equal to that of Melbourne, and considerably higher than that of Paris. Of course I was particularly fortunate in visiting Irkutsk in the very height of the “season,” for, as is the case all over Siberia, and, I believe, Russia also, the time to see “life” is during the winter months, when the rich and fashionable classes are in town, and all sorts of festivities are going on.

As at Krasnoiarsk, I found “society” here absolutely European in its character, for most of the wealthiest people annually pass several months in the West, so are quite au courant with all that is going on in the world of pleasure, and manage to convey their impressions back to their Siberian palaces in the shape of luxuries and extravagances of every sort. Amongst the many hospitalities I was shown I had the pleasure of dining one evening at the house of Mr. Soukatchoff, the Mayor of Irkutsk, one of the richest and most important men of the city. His magnificent house, with its large picture-gallery (in which are over two hundred and fifty examples of the best known of continental artists), its immense library, and its priceless collection of curiosities from every part of the world, made my visit to this gentleman a sort of “artistic treat”—a treat which was in no way spoilt by the very excellent dinner he gave us, and the interesting people I was introduced to, many of whom spoke French and German fluently, and some of them English also. Here, as elsewhere in Siberia, on every occasion when I have dined out, either in Irkutsk, Krasnoiarsk, or Yeniseisk, the general “tone” and arrangements were delightful. I was also fortunate enough to be present at a big ball given by the millionaire, M. de Sievers, and I doubt very much if the most brilliant “crush” of a London season could present a more magnificent spectacle than did this ball—for the governor-general, with his party, and the head-quarters staff officers, were present in full uniform, blazing with orders and decorations, and the rooms were crowded with as smart a crowd of people as the most fastidious London dancing man could have desired. The “floor” and the music were both excellent. In the gallery of the ball-room was stationed the regimental band, while, by the fountain in the huge winter-garden, which was beautifully illuminated with quaint Chinese lanterns, the town string-band played all the evening. It was like being in dreamland to wander, with some pretty girl on one’s arm, through the exotic shrubberies, and my thoughts were carried far away from cold Siberia, to the sunny south of France and to gay Monte Carlo. I should have been sorry to have missed seeing this dance, for it did more towards giving me an insight into Irkutsk society than all else.

Since the disastrous fire in Irkutsk in 1879, when almost the entire town was burnt to the ground, it has been forbidden to build any but stone or brick houses in the principal streets, so the result is broad thoroughfares, with lofty buildings of imposing architectural pretensions on either side, which would not disgrace any Western capital. For its size, I do not think there is any city in the world which can boast of more public institutions than Irkutsk. On first driving through the city this was the characteristic feature which struck me, for everywhere, almost in every street, was some important public edifice, many of the institutions being, I was informed, the result of private munificence. I had often read of these monuments as erected by Siberian millionaires more to satisfy their personal vanity and love of ostentation than out of any true charitable or public spirit—rather as a means of proving to the vulgar horde what wealth they really possess. Whether or no this is the case, of course it is impossible to say; but, at any rate, the result is a conglomeration of public institutions which, considering the size of the place, could not be rivalled anywhere, I fancy. A brief list of them, in proof of my statement, may be of interest, as giving an idea of the importance of this distant Siberian city.

Of public schools there are no less than nineteen, all under the supervision of a Government Educational Committee.

Then there are six hospitals—namely, three town hospitals; a foundling hospital, on the usual Russian system; a military hospital, and a madhouse.

Of “homes” for children there are at least four; three asylums for the aged and infirm; a monastery for men and one for women; a convict and a civil prison; a geographical institute; a large observatory (with an English telescope); and two clubs—one military, the other for merchants—making a total of over forty important public institutions for a population of less than forty thousand.

Of the handsome churches, of which there are no less than twenty-two, besides two cathedrals, many were also presented to this lucky city by its millionaire inhabitants, who, when they decide to spend their money, do so in no parsimonious manner, as is evidenced by the result. The monastery of St. Innocent, a short distance from the city, is as beautiful a specimen of Italian architecture as one could see anywhere, and cost its donors, several rich merchants, I don’t know how many million roubles. It is not only in Irkutsk, however, that one finds such proofs of great private munificence, for I learn that the magnificent cathedral of Krasnoiarsk was presented to the city by a rich man who made his millions out of vodka!

Irkutsk, being the seat of the Government of Eastern Siberia (a district equal in size to the half of Europe), is naturally well stocked with officials of all sorts and grades, the governor-general and civil governor having each no less than three remplaçants. Considering what an important centre Irkutsk is, I was surprised to learn that it was only garrisoned by one battalion of 1000 soldiers and one sotnia (nominally 100, but actually 150) of Cossacks; so the energies of the military governor are not overtaxed. The Chinese frontier district comes within the government of the Trans-Baikal and Amour provinces.

The police arrangements struck me as being particularly good. In the daytime mounted men are continually patrolling the streets to prevent any congestion of the traffic—a very necessary measure, considering the reckless manner in which Siberians drive. At night there is a curious and truly Eastern custom still in vogue in this important city; watchmen parade the streets, continually agitating a peculiar sort of knocker which emits a sound not unlike that of the rattle our policemen used to be provided with. What is the reason of adhering to this primitive custom I have been unable to learn. Perhaps Siberian thieves are known to be nervous, and this arrangement frightens them, and deters them from contemplated misdeeds. Certainly the watchmen themselves would not have that effect on anything but a very old woman or a young child, for they were usually aged and decrepit fellows, who looked as though they ought to have been at home and in bed instead of out all night. Fortunately the Irkutsk streets are safe enough during the dark hours.