Overland through Asia; Pictures of Siberian, Chinese, and Tartar Part 36

Henceforward, he dared not seek the shelter of a house. From the middle of February to the beginning of April, in the midst of one of the severest winters ever known, his couch was in the snow. Frozen bread was his food for days together, and the absence of warm aliments brought him face to face with the terrible spectres of cold and hunger. The Urals were reached, and he began to climb their wooded heights. On pa.s.sing through a little village at nightfall, a voice cried: "Who is there?"

"A traveler."

"Well, would you like to come and sleep here?"

"May G.o.d recompense you, yes; if it will not inconvenience you."

An aged couple lived there--good people, who prepared a meagre repast, which seemed a feast to Piotrowski: the greatest comfort of all being that he could take off his clothes.

[Ill.u.s.tration: SIBERIAN EXILES.]

They gave him his breakfast, and would not accept any remuneration but his warm and cordial thanks.

One evening Piotrowski's life was nearly extinct. The way was lost, the hail pierced his skin, his supply of bread was exhausted, and after vainly dragging his weary limbs, he fell into a kind of torpor.

A loud voice roused him--"What are you doing here?"

"I am making a pilgrimage to the monastery of Solovetsk, but the storm prevented my seeing the track, and I have not eaten for several days."

"It is not surprising. We who live on the spot often wander away.

There, drink that."

The speaker gave him a bottle containing some brandy, which burned him so fearfully, that in his pain he danced about.

"Now try to calm yourself," said the good Samaritan, giving him some bread and dried fish, which Piotrowski ate ravenously, saying--"I thank you with all my heart. May G.o.d bless you for your goodness."

"Ah, well, do not say so much; we are both Christians. Now, try to walk a little."

He was a trapper; and led him into the right path, pointing out a village inn where he could get rest and refreshment. Piotrowski managed to crawl to the place, and then fainted away. When he recovered himself, he asked for radish-soup, but could not swallow it; and toward noon he fell asleep on the bench, never awaking until the same time on the next day, when the host roused him. Sleep, rest, and warmth restored him, and he again started on his long pilgrimage.

The town of Veliki-Ustiug was reached, where he determined to change his character and become a pilgrim, going to pray to the holy images of Solovetsk, on the White Sea. There are four of these holy places to which pious Russians resort, and everywhere the wayfarers are well received, hospitality and alms being freely dispensed to those who are going to pray for the peace of the donor. Pa.s.sports are not rigorously exacted, and he hoped to join himself to a company, trusting to be less marked than if alone. As he was standing irresolute in the market-place, a young man accosted him, and finding that they were bound to the same place, invited him to join their party. There were about twenty; but no less than two thousand were in the city on their way, waiting until the thaw should have opened the Dwina for the rafts and boats which would transport them to Archangel, and then to Solovetsk. It was a scene for Chaucer: the half-idiot, who sought to be a saint; the knave who played upon the charity of others; and the astute hypocrite. The rafts are loaded with corn, and the pilgrims receive a free pa.s.sage; or a small sum of money is given them, if they consent to row; from forty to sixty sailors being required for each, the oars consisting of a thin fir-tree. Piotrowski was only too happy to increase his small store of money by working. At the break of day, before starting, the captain cried--"Seat yourselves, and pray to G.o.d." Every one squatted down like a Mussulman for a moment, then rose and made a number of salutations and crossings; and next, down to the poorest, each threw a small piece of money into the river to secure a propitious voyage.

Fifteen days pa.s.sed, during which Piotrowski learned to be an expert oarsman. Then the golden spires of Archangel rose before them; a cry of joy was uttered by all; and the rowers broke off the lower parts of their oars with a frightful crash, according to the universal custom.

It was a heartfelt prayer of grat.i.tude that Piotrowski raised to G.o.d for having brought him thus far in safety. How pleasant was the sight of the ships, with their flags of a thousand colors, after the snow and eternal forests of the Urals! But there was again disappointment.

He wandered along the piers, but could not find a single vessel bound for France or Germany, and not daring to enter the cafes, where perhaps the captains might have been, he left Archangel in sadness, determined to skirt the coast towards Onega. He would thus pa.s.s the celebrated monastery without the necessity of stopping, and pretend that he was proceeding to Novgorod and Moscow on the same pious pilgrimage.

Through marshes and blighted fir-plantations the weary wayfarer sped, the White Sea rising frequently into storms of the utmost grandeur; but the season was lovely, and the sun warm, so that camping out offered less hardship. The wolves howled around him, but happily he never saw them. Many soldiers, who were Poles, were established at different points to take charge of the ca.n.a.ls.

Having reached Vytegra, he was accosted on the sh.o.r.e by a peasant, who asked where he was going. On hearing his story, he said--"You are the man I want. I am going to St. Petersburg. My boat is small, and you can a.s.sist me to row."

The crafty fellow evidently intended to profit by the pilgrim's arms without wages; but, after long debate, he agreed to supply Piotrowski with food during the transport. It seemed strange, indeed, to go to the capital--like running into the jaws of the lion--but he seized every occasion to pa.s.s on, lest his papers should be asked for. As they coasted down through Lake Ladoga and the Neva, they took in some women as pa.s.sengers, who were servants, and had been home to see their parents. One of them, an aged washerwoman, was so teased by the others, that Piotrowski took her part, and in return she offered him some very useful a.s.sistance.

"My daughter," she said, "will come to meet me, and she will find you a suitable lodging."

It will be guessed with what joy he accepted the proposal; and during all the time spent in the boat, no one came to ask for pa.s.sports. The house she took him to was sufficiently miserable; as the Russians say, "It was the bare ground, with the wrist for a pillow." He asked his hostess if he must see the police to arrange the business of his pa.s.sport. "No," she said. "If you only stay a few days, it is useless.

They have become so exacting, that they would require me to accompany you, and my time is too precious."

As he pa.s.sed along the quays, looking for a ship, his eyes rested on one to sail for Riga on the following morning. He could scarcely master his emotion. The pilot on board called out--"If you want a place to Riga, come here."

"I certainly want one; but I am too poor to sail in a steamer. It would cost too much."

He named a very small sum, and said--"Come; why do you hesitate?"

"I only arrived yesterday, and the police have not _vise_ my pa.s.sport."

"That will occupy three days. Go without a vise. Be here at seven o'clock, and wait for me."

Both were to their time. The sailor said, "Give me some money," and handed him a yellow paper; the clock struck; the barrier was opened, and, like a dream, he was safely on the ocean.

From Riga he went through Courland and Lithuania. The difficulty of crossing the Russian frontier into Prussia was still to be managed. He chose the daytime; and when sentinels had each turned their backs, he jumped over the wall of the first of the three glacis. No noise was heard. The second was tried, and the firing of pistols showed that he was perceived. He rushed on to the third, and, breathless and exhausted, gained a little wood, where for many hours he remained concealed. He was in Prussia. Wandering on through Mernel, Tilsit, and Konigsberg, he decided at the last place to take a ship the next morning to Elbing, where he would be near to Posen, and among his compatriots. Sitting down on a heap of stones, he intended taking refuge for the night in a corn-field; but sleep overcame him, and he was rudely awakened in the darkness by a policeman. His stammering and confused replies awakened suspicion, and to his shame and grief, he was carried off to prison. He announced himself as a French cotton-spinner, but returning from Russia, and without a pa.s.sport. Not a word he said was believed. At length, after a month's detention, weary of being considered a concealed malefactor, he asked to speak to M. Fleury, a French advocate, who a.s.sisted at his trial. To him he confessed the whole truth. Nothing could equal his advocate's consternation and astonishment.

"What a misfortune!" he said. "We must give you up to the Russians; they have just sent many of your countrymen, across the frontier.

There is but one way. Write to Count Eulenberg; tell your story, and trust to his mercy."

After ten days he received a vague reply, desiring him to have patience. The affair got wind in the town, and a gentleman came to him, asking if he would accept him as bail. Efforts had been made in his favor, and the police were ready to set him free. M. Kamke, his kind friend, took him home, and entertained him for a week; but an order came from Berlin to send the prisoner back to Russia, and he received warning in time to escape. Letters to various friends on the way were given him, to facilitate his journey; and just four years after he had left Paris he reached it in safety again, after having crossed the Urals, slept for months in the snow, jumped over the Russian frontier in the midst of b.a.l.l.s, and pa.s.sed through so many sufferings and privations.

[Ill.u.s.tration: TAIL PIECE]

CHAPTER x.x.xVIII.

I remained in Irkutsk until snow fell, and the winter roads were suitable for travel. One day the moving portion of the city was on wheels: the next saw it gliding on runners. The little sleighs of the _isvoshchiks_ are exactly like those of St. Petersburg and Moscow,--miniature affairs where you sit with your face within six inches of the driver's back, and cannot take a friend at your side without much crowding. They move rapidly, and it is a fortunate provision that they are cheap. In all large cities and towns of Russia many _isvoshchiks_ go to spend the winter. With a horse and little sleigh and a cash capital sufficient to buy a license, one of these enterprising fellows will set up in business. n.o.body thinks of walking in Moscow or St. Petersburg, unless his journey or his purse is very short. It is said there are thirty thousand sleighs for public hire in St. Petersburg alone, during the winter months, and two-thirds that number in Moscow. The interior towns are equally well supplied in proportion to their population.

One may naturally suppose that accidents are frequent where there are many vehicles and fast driving is the fashion. Accidents are rare from the fact that drivers are under severe penalties if they run over any one. Furthermore the horses are quick and intelligent, and being driven without blinkers, can use their eyes freely. To my mind this plan is better than ours, and most foreigners living in Russia are inclined to adopt it. Considered as an ornament a blinker decorates a horse about as much as an eye shade does a man.

With the first fall of snow, I began preparations for departure. I summoned a tailor and gave orders for a variety of articles in fur and sheep-skin for the road. He measured me for a coat, a cap, a pair of stockings, and a sleigh robe, all in sheep-skin. He then took the size of my ears for a pair of lappets, and proposed fur socks to be worn under the stockings. When the acc.u.mulated result of his labors was piled upon the floor of my room, I was alarmed at its size, and wondered if it could ever be packed in a single sleigh. Out of a bit of sable skin a lady acquaintance constructed a mitten for my nose, to be worn when the temperature was lowest. It was not an improvement to one's personal appearance though very conducive to comfort.

To travel by _peraclodnoi_ (changing the vehicle at every station) is bad enough in summer but ten times bad in winter. To turn out every two or three hours with the thermometer any distance below zero, and shift baggage and furs from one sleigh to another is an absolute nuisance. Yery few persons travel by _peraclodnoi_ in winter, and one does not find many sleighs at the post stations from the fact that they are seldom demanded. Nearly all travelers buy their sleighs before starting, and sell them when their journeys are ended.

I surveyed the Irkutsk market and found several sleighs 'up' for sale.

Throughout Siberia a sleigh manufactured at Kazan is preferred, it being better made and more commodious than its rivals. My attention was called to several vehicles of local manufacture but my friends advised me not to try them. I sought a _Kazanski kibitka_ and with the aid of an intelligent _isvoshchik_ succeeded in finding one. Its purchase was accomplished in a manner peculiarly Russian.

The seller was a _mischanin_ or Russian merchant of the peasant cla.s.s.

Accompanied by a friend I called at his house and our negotiation began over a lunch and a bottle of nalifka. We said nothing on the subject nearest my heart and his, for at least a half hour, but conversed on general topics. My friend at length dropped a hint that I thought of taking up my residence at Irkutsk. This was received with delight, and a gla.s.s of nalifka, supplementary to at least half a dozen gla.s.ses I had already swallowed.

"Why don't you come to sleighs at once, and settle the matter?" I asked. "He probably knows what we want, and if we keep on at this rate I shall need a sleigh to go home in."

"Don't be impatient," said my friend; "you don't understand these people; you must angle them gently. When you want to make a trade, begin a long way from it. If you want to buy a horse, pretend that you want to sell a cow, but don't mention the horse at first. If you do you will never succeed."

We hedged very carefully and finally reached the subject. This was so overpowering that we took a drink while the merchant ordered the sleigh dragged into the court yard. We had another gla.s.s before we adjourned for the inspection, a later one when we returned to the house, and another as soon as we were seated. After this our negotiations proceeded at a fair pace, but there were many vacuums of language that required liquid filling. After endeavoring to lower his price, I closed with him and we clenched the bargain with a drink.

Sleighs were in great demand, as many persons were setting out for Russia, and I made sure of my purchase by paying on the spot and taking a gla.s.s of nalifka. As a finale to the transaction, he urged me to drink again, begged my photograph, and promised to put an extra something to the sleigh.

The Siberian peasant cla.s.ses are much like the Chinese in their manner of bargaining. Neither begins at the business itself, but at something entirely different. A great deal of time, tea, and tobacco is consumed before the antagonists are fairly met. When the main subject is reached they gradually approach and conclude the bargain about where both expected and intended. An American would come straight to the point, and dealing with either of the above races his bluntness would endanger the whole affair. In many matters this patient angling is advantageous, and nowhere more so than in diplomacy. Every one will doubtless acknowledge the Russians unsurpa.s.sed in diplomatic skill.

They possess the faculty of touching gently, and playing with their opponents, to a higher degree than any nation of Western Europe.

Other things being equal, this ability will bring success.

There are several descriptions of sleigh for Siberian travel. At the head, stands the _vashok_, a box-like affair with a general resemblance to an American coach on runners. It has a door at each side and gla.s.s windows and is long enough for one to lie at full length.