A ribbon of iron

Front matter

6* i$S&

BY ANNETTE M. B. MEAKIN

" One of the chief delights and benefits of travel is that one is perpetually meeting men of great abilities, of original mind, and rare acquirements, who will converse without reserve. In these discourses the intellect makes daring leaps and marvellous advances. The tone that colours our after life is often caught in these chance colloquies, and the bent given that shapes a career."

Preface

WITHIN twenty days of our visit to Blagovestchensk, 1 that town was the scene of a massacre, the descriptions of which were received with horror throughout the civilized world. As we returned to St. Petersburg by way of America it was not until lafter this book was written that I succeeded in getting from eye-witnesses a reliable iccount of what actually took place. While we reve at Blagovestchensk (we left on June 28, just four days before the first shot was fired) ill its troops were being mobilized for China, md every boat except the post boat had >een chartered to carry soldiers across the rater. So little did General Gribsky and the >olice dream of danger near at hand that mly one reserve battalion and one battery r ere left to guard the town. The rumour we had heard of a Chinese force stationed near Aigun was a true one. Having waited for their 1 See chapters xvii. and xviii. 5

PREFACE

opportunity, the Manchu insurgents were preparing to take advantage of the defenceless state in which the Russians had been left. They had actually fixed upon a night on which to surprise the town, and each man had been provided with a rope to strangle a Russian in his bed. A few hours before the time arranged they caught sight of what they took to be a band of Russian soldiers preparing to cross over and attack them. These were in reality a company of raw recruits who, being very dirty, had received orders to bathe in the river. ** This mistake saved Blagovestchensk. On July 2, shots fired from Aigun upon a passin steamer raised the alarm. General Gribsk at once marched his remaining battalion ou] of the town to the bank of the river opposit Aigun and opened fire. In the meantimi the terror-stricken inhabitants, feeling them] selves utterly helpless and dreading lest th< Manchus in the town itself — whose numbers far exceeded their own — should rise and murdei them, fled in crowds to the neighbouring wood Some women even ran the distance of fiftee: versts. General Gribsky then sent word t the Cossacks that they were to turn all the Chinese out of the town and make them cross i

PREFACE

the river. Unhappily the order was given to men who could not be trusted to act humanely. The Cossacks, who were little better than savages, threw themselves upon the helpless Chinese — among whom there were fortunately very few women and children — and drove them to the water's edge. Those who could not get across in rafts were either brutally massacred on the banks or pushed into the water and drowned. The scene which followed was horrible beyond description, and the river was black with dead bodies for weeks afterwards. I have this from no less than five eye-witnesses. The innocent had suffered for the guilty. There was not a Chinaman left in Blagovestchensk on the arrival of the forces which the Governor had summoned to his aid from Western Siberia. Crossing over to the Chinese towns of Sakhalin and Aigun, the Russian soldiers now burned them to the ground and then proceeded to drive the rebels into the interior. I call them rebels advisedly, for this was no war with China ; it was the beginning of Russia's campaign in Manchuria, which other countries have watched with so jealous an eye.

I will here take the opportunity of thanking

PREFACE

those kind friends who have helped me in the preparation of this volume. My especial thanks are due to Miss L. Kukol- Yasnopolsky * to whose able translation of the Ministerial Guide to the Great Siberian Railway I am indebted for many useful pieces of information.

To Miss M. Mitchell, to Prince M. Dolgorouky, and to one other friend who wishes to be nameless, I should like to express my gratitude for many of the drawings and photographs with which my book is illustrated.

A few weeks ago, when reading that interesting book, The Heart of a Continent, 2 I was pleased to find the following passage. "I like to record these little acts of kindness which I have received from Russians individually because I believe there are no two nationalities that would take to each other more than the Russians and ourselves if the opportunity were forthcoming ; and that the more the members of each nation learn to know one another the better it will be for us both." A. M. B. M.

Interlaken,

1 This lady is a niece of His Excellency Prince Hilkof, Minister of Ways and Communications.

2 By Captain Frank E. Younghusband.

Contents

CHAPTER PAGE

II The Siberian Express . . . . .20

III Omsk—A Visit to the Kirgiz ... 32

Chapter I STARTING

The longer I live the more I airi certain that the great difference between men, between the feeble and the powerful, the great and the insignificant, is energy, invincible determination — a purpose once fixed, and then death or

victory.

Sir T. Fowell Buxton.

r T was during a visit to Russia in the summer A of 1896 that my attention was drawn for the first time to the " Great Siberian Railway." It existed then only as far as Omsk and had not yet been thrown open for passenger traffic. People still travelled by tarantass, and no one, with the exception of one or two travellers following in the footsteps of Dr. Lansdell and

Mr. Kenan, went to Siberia from choice, for travelling there was monotony itself.

" We hope to complete the railway- in four years," said Prince Hilkof when asked how long it would be before Japan could be reached by rail. " The journey will be an easy one, and the buffets will be excellent," he added. As he spoke I was seized with a desire not merely to take the journey, but to be the first Englishwoman to travel by that route to Japan.

On my return to England friends smiled at this desire of mine and thought it so mad that I ceased to mention it ; but when the time drew near I unfolded my plan to my mother and asked her to accompany me. This she readily agreed to do, being quite as fond of travelling as myself.

We accordingly left London for Paris on March 18, 1900, without having explained our intentions to any one outside our immediate circle. Our friends were thus spared a great deal of needless anxiety. For the anxiety they did eventually suffer on our account we are

STARTING

truly sorry. That Chinese Boxers should make their way to the banks of the Amur almost simultaneously with our own appearance there was a fact that could have entered into no one's calculations.

A halt of six weeks in the French capital enabled us not only to brush up our French for the journey but also to study the excellent maps and models illustrative of our proposed route which occupied several rooms in the Siberian section of the Exhibition. Throughout the month of April the weather was so hot that we, like every one else, resorted to summer clothing, and packing up our winter garments left them behind us.

Every traveller knows that the less luggage you have with you the better, and we were delighted to have reduced our luggage to a valise, a hold-all, and a tea basket. So far so good ; but when, on May 2, we reached the Russian frontier our delight began to cool. Hotter and hotter grew the carriages, colder and colder the air outside, till at last we looked out upon a dreary snow scene. Bitter winds were blowing in St. Petersburg and snow layon the sides of the streets as we drove to our destination. It was no wonder that a violent attack of influenza kept me in bed four out of the six days we spent there. Thanks to the great kindness of Prince Hilkof we had very little to do ; it was he who had our tickets prepared, who provided us with letters of introduction, the latest guide books, and a splendid map of our route. It was indeed a fortunate thing for us that the man of all others who had it in his power to help us could and did sympathize so thoroughly with our project.

The Czar held his annual military review on May 7. All Petersburg turned out to see the troops pass, and the Nevsky was brilliant with flags and red draperies hung from the windows. It was interesting to compare these decorations with those we had seen at Berlin three days earlier when we had found the townspeople wild with excitement about the coming of age of their young prince, and with those of Paris when the Exhibition of 1900 was declared open, and again with those of our own Regent Street

STARTING

and Oxford Street after the relief of Ladysmith. We thought the Russian decorations the most effective ; there was more bright colour, chiefly scarlet.

The Nevsky, a bright and handsome street at all times, looked gay indeed as the mounted troops passed down it to the Russian Champs de Mars. Cuirassiers in white and gleaming gold were followed by a regiment all in what we call " Prussian blue," but far brighter than any blue worn by the Prussian army. Then came a regiment in red and black, each man carrying a flag, followed by others equally striking.

It took four days to get our luggage through the customs, as it had not been examined on the frontier. When I grew impatient at the delay, my friends said, " You cannot hurry a Russian. Never show that you are cross, that only makes them worse ; the safest thing is to laugh ; it helps you best in the end." So I laughed and waited.

The last afternoon I started out in a sharp snowstorm to buy some luggage labels, taking an old one with me as a pattern. After trying three shops I found a man who could speak German. " Oh, you will never find those things here ! No one uses them in Russia," he said. So our belongings travelled all the way to Yokohama without labels.

The night express from St. Petersburg to Moscow is the best train in Russia ; it carries only first-class passengers and is always full no matter what the season of the year. We had secured a sleeping coupe by telephone, but a gentleman had bribed the conductor to give it to him instead. A dispute which took up an hour and a half of our journey had to be gone through before we could get possession of it and retire for the night. As it was we owed our victory to a gaily dressed officer who spoke French and came to the rescue. He asked if he might introduce to us a friend of his from St. Petersburg, who was also on the train, " an Englishman, and very rich." After the introduction had taken place the Englishman came and chatted with us in our cowp£ ; he had seen from our official letter

STARTING

that we were going to Siberia, and his interest was aroused.

" Siberia is a dreary place," he said. " Are you sure it is wise to go there — two ladies alone?" And then turning to me he said, "It is a venturesome thing under any circumstances, but to start in your state of health is madness. You ought to be shut up in a warm room and not leave it for a week." I felt the truth of these remarks, but it was a case of " a purpose once fixed," and we were already a week late in starting.

Our coupe was cold and draughty, but about midnight it began to get warmer, and was too hot to be pleasant when we woke at about five the next morning. Pulling up the blinds we looked out on the most exquisite snow scene it had ever been our lot to witness. Snow was falling in large flakes and must have been coming down steadily for hours. The branches of fir trees, intermingled with those of others still more yielding, were loaded with snow and drooped gracefully under its weight, whilst every few seconds we saw some branch bent right downward and its load scattered and dropped through the lower branches like soft powder. I felt as if I must be Hans Andersen's little girl in the Ice Queen travelling through forests of snow ! One breath of ice-cold air in that heated carriage would have made it a reality, but this was not to be had, and I fell asleep again with the feeling that I had seen some fairy panorama.

We found Moscow enjoying a regular April day of alternate sun and drenching rain, and people were quite surprised to hear us speak of snow. Moscow is a typical city of the old times and a more picturesque one I never saw. From our hotel windows we looked out on a vast array of coloured roofs, red and green predominating, whilst above all towered many glistening golden cupolas. "These cupolas are always bright and shining," said an English resident, " and yet I never see any one polishing them."

Those who are interested in Moscow should read the late Dean Stanley's beautiful letters written on the occasion of the Duke of Edin-

STARTING

burgh's wedding. We all appreciate the wonderful charm of the old Russian capital, but it was Dean Stanley who had the power to bring its beauties before the eyes of those who could not come so far.

Farewell, dear Moscow ; I shall come again When I have traversed half the earth and more. Tis time to hasten now, for summer's heat Too soon might pass, and ice, which half the year Doth bind the rivers wide, impede my course.

Farewell.

rrnvTx^r -

Chapter II

We don't often know in this world sometimes whether we are turning off along a road where we shall never come back from, or whether we can go just a little way and look at the far off hills and new rivers, and come home safe.

Robbery Under Arms.

r | ^HE Siberian Express, or Train de Luxe as A it is called, leaves Moscow for Irkutsk every Saturday evening, whilst the ordinary post train leaves daily at 3 p.m. 1 There is no difference in the speed of the two trains, but by stopping less time at the stations the express gains two days on the entire journey.

We took up our abode in the express on Saturday, May 12, and did not emerge from it till the following Wednesday evening, when we alighted at Omsk station after a journey of four days and four nights. We shared a luxurious coupe with two other ladies. I retired at

1 Since the above was written other trains have been added.

MAP OF T

MAP OF THE SIBERIAN RAILWAY SYSTEM.

A

HE SIBl once to my comfortable bed and remained there for three days, after which time I was well enough to get up. Had I taken that journey, ill as I was, in a (< sleeper " on the so highly praised Canadian Pacific, I might never have lived to tell the tale. Every morning I should have been forced to rise at an early hour and sit upright for the rest of the weary day on the seat into which my bed had been transformed. Above all, privacy, the luxury that a tired traveller covets most of all, would have been absolutely unattainable. The Siberian express is a kind of " Liberty Hall," where you can shut your door and sleep all day if you prefer it, or eat and drink, smoke and play cards if you like that better. An electric bell on one side of your door summons a servingman to make your bed or sweep your floor, as the case may be, while a bell on the other side summons a waiter from the buffet. Besides the ordinary electric lights you are provided with an electric reading lamp by which you may read all night if you choose. Time passes very pleasantly on such a train, and it is quite possible to enjoy the scenery, for there is none of that fearful hurry that makes railway travelling so risky for body and nerves in Europe and America. Our average speed was about sixteen miles an hour.

At one end of the cheerful dining car was a Bechstein piano, and opposite to it a bookcase stocked with Russian novels ; doubtless it will contain plenty of French and English books in time. On the fourth day we had an agreeable concert. Amongst the performers were a gentleman with a good tenor voice and two lady pianists of no ordinary merit. Three portraits adorned the dining car walls — those of the Emperor and Empress and that of Prince Hilkof — while ferns and flowers gathered by the way gave a homelike appearance to the whole.

We stopped at a great many stations ; indeed on some parts of the route we seemed to get into a chronic state of stopping. At large stations there was often a halt of twenty minutes or half an hour. Passengers anxious for a change of fare seized such opportunities to dine at the station buffet. Card playing went on all the time and small sums of money were played for. If a Russian sits down to a game of cards, nothing but a matter of life and death will induce him to stir from it till it is finished.

"You have yet to learn what a Russian is worth when he's playing cards," said a German fellow traveller after I had waited two hours to get the name of an hotel from a young officer. As it was already midnight I gave up in despair and retired. The next day I got my information from the card player, but it was accompanied by no apology. There is a strange superstition among the lower classes that if a man can manage to get into his possession a piece, however small, of the rope with which a criminal has been hanged, he will always have luck at cards. A few weeks before we arrived there a man was hanged at Irkutsk, and a peasant, after endless trouble and exertion, secured a little bit of the rope, much to the envy of his relatives and friends.

The train was quite full. One lady about thirty years of age, who spoke French, told me she hated Siberia, and was only going to Irkutsk to sell some property. She intended to return to St. Petersburg by the next train but one ; that is, in less than a fortnight, which meant twenty days of railway travelling and a journey of 8,000 miles within a month. Distance, like time, counts for nothing in Siberia. This lady thought us bold, if not rash, to travel without a revolver. " I always carry two," she said. Later on the Mayor of Vladivostok, who shared the next coupS with the manager of the Amur Steamer Company, took out his little pocket pistol and handled it fondly. " It saved my life once," he said. "You had better get one in Omsk if you haven't brought one with you." The Mayor told my mother a woeful tale of a fall he had had just before leaving St. Petersburg.

" I broke two ribs," he said, " and now I hear them crack every time I rise on the cushions of the train, which are too springy under the circumstances. ' '

The conductor was a good-looking man in uniform. His position on the train seemed to be something like that of a purser on a steamer. We tried to find out from him whether there was any hotel at Omsk, and what sort of a place it was, but the only information we could extract was that it was warmer at Irkutsk than at Moscow. He knew nothing of Omsk, and could not even tell us when we might expect to arrive till we were within a few hours of the place.

After a day and two nights of steady travelling we came in sight of the Volga. All were eager to see something of the famous bridge over which we were to cross. Some, who feared they might not wake at 4 a.m., got up before daylight. I myself saw nothing of it then, but on another occasion when we passed at four on a lovely autumn afternoon I had a splendid view standing, while we crossed the water, on the platform between two carriages.

The Alexander bridge was named after Alexander II. It has thirteen spans of fifty sazhens each, a total length of six hundred and fifty sazhens and a distance of more than six hundred and seventy-four sazhens between its abutments. A sazhen is equal to seven English feet. It is built with stone piers on the double girder system with parallel chords and a roadway upon the lower chord. The rails are laid on metal beams. To us it was a bridge of delicate iron lace work closing over our heads at regular intervals, with quite a fragile look when seen from a distance. It bore a remarkable testimony to the beauty of proportion.

The Volga too was most picturesque at this point, and the passengers got a fine view both up and down the river, as the train slowly crossed the bridge.

Samara, the first town of interest after Moscow, has a population of ninety-one thousand. I once spent a few days there, and was much impressed by the frightful dust storms in the streets, the worst I have met with outside Siberia. Here I made the acquaintance of a lady whose father has a large Kumys Sanatorium not far from the town. She told me that people suffering from chest complaints throng to it from all parts of Russia. The best caviar in the world comes from the Volga ; it can be had in boxes at Samara station, but is very expensive when bought in that way. Immediately outside the town there is a large cemetery filled with the graves of those who died of the terrible plague which visited that part of Russia after the famine some years ago.

There are many people in Samara now who lived through that awful time, and it was touching to hear them speak with loving gratitude of the English Quakers who collected money and sent doctors to the poor sufferers. Many of the ignorant peasants had a superstitious dread of the doctors, and often attacked them so fiercely that it was at the risk of their lives that they attended the sick. After the train has left the cemetery it runs between wide melon fields. Passing this spot in August I saw the smooth skins of hundreds of water melons glistening in the sunshine.

The next place of interest is Ufa. This was formerly the central town of the Bashkirs, a dark Mohammedan race, who, in their days of independence, were renowned for their skill in shooting arrows. So much did they excel in this art that during the campaign of 1813 the French gave them the nickname of "The Cupids of the North." One still finds them in their old haunts, peaceful enough now, though for many years after they had sought the protection of Russia against the persecution of other neighbours they continued to give the Russians a good deal of trouble. The country round Ufa is called Baskiria, having derived its name from these ancient inhabitants. The town was founded by the Russians towards the end of the sixteenth century. It has now twentythree churches, with many schools and charitable institutions, including a home for the blind.

Zlatoust in the Ural Mountains is the last Russian town through which the train passes. The situation is most picturesque, with fir-clad mountains as a background. This is the point at which travellers should break their journey if they wish to spend a few days in the Urals. Pleasant excursions can be made in the neighbourhood, and there are interesting mines to be visited, mines whence come so many of our precious stones. In Zlatoust itself is a large iron foundry. When the Emperor Alexander I. came here in 1824 he forged a nail with his own hands, and this treasure is still to be seen in the local museum.

As the train comes into the station the passengers take out their purses and make a rush for the stall at which pretty black ornaments, knives and forks, snuff-boxes, and many other useful things made of cast iron are temptingly displayed by the native traders. The knives and forks have a renown of their own ; on the blades of the knives are engraved quaint pictures. I saw one on which an old woman feeding her geese was depicted. Upwards of three thousand men are employed in making knives alone.

I have travelled through this part of the Urals three times, but only once had the good fortune to do so by day. On that occasion I stood for hours at the open window enjoying not only the beautiful scenery, but also the fresh and invigorating mountain air, very different from that of the steppe into which the wild mountains merge only too soon. Gradually the landscape becomes more and more insignificant till there is at last nothing for the eye to rest on but a wide stretch of grassy plain. This is the steppe.

The appearance of the steppe varies very much according to the time of year. With the exception of solitary groups of birch trees few and far between, nothing will grow there but grass and herbaceous plants of a hardy nature ; there is too much salt in the soil.

You can hardly look out of the windows without seeing water somewhere, for lakes, large and small, are numerous. This part of the steppe alone is said to contain more than a thousand ; in most of them the water is salt. In some cases a channel connects a fresh water lake with one in which the water is brackish. A flower which grows on their margin is called the salt-wort (Salicornea herbaria). Salt is obtained from these lakes by private persons who hold them on lease.

In early spring the grass grows so high that, as a lady described it to me, " you can hide yourself in it." Many kinds of flowers grow there, such as the hyacinth, a dwarf iris with a fine scent, and a wild lily. In August the grass has disappeared, and all is brown and bare, but after the first rains of September fresh young blades and flowers cover large patches, and offer a pleasing variety to the eye.

From Oheliabinsk there is a branch line through the Urals to Ekaterinburg. I travelled by it just after it was opened in 1896, and was much amused to see the passengers get out and pick flowers as the train moved along. Ekaterinburg is the border town through which all travellers crossing Siberia used to pass before there was a railway. I visited an interesting convent there where the nuns are employed in preparing ikons, candles and holy bread for the churches. They paint the ikons in a regular artist's studio, sitting at easels as " to the manner born." For the candles there is a manufactory ; the wax is separated into shreds and laid out in large trays to bleach in the sun, after which it is melted in tubs. It was a most entertaining sight to see the nuns, with their sleeves tucked up, rolling the candles into shape, or rather giving them a final polish with their elbows, using the forearm as a kind of rolling pin. These enterprising ladies actually started horse-breeding, but the priests put a stop to it. Ekaterinburg is now a flourishing modern town with electric lights, tramways, and many fine public buildings.

Chapter III

TT was quite dark long before we reached -*■ Omsk, and feeling rather timid we made anxious inquiries as to whether any one else was stopping there. The conductor took pity on us as we were nearing our destination. He had all the tickets and knew where every one on the train was going. " There is one lady in the second class," he said, " who is bound for Omsk."

" For pity's sake," I said, " introduce me to her."

" I am a stranger myself," she told me after the introduction had taken place, " but my daughter and her husband are coming to meet me ; perhaps they could tell you about an hotel."

In the meantime our other fellow passengers did their best to persuade us to abandon the idea of seeing Omsk, and go on with them to Irkutsk. Horrible things had happened, they said. "Remember you are now in Siberia," said the conductor warningly.

The lady going to Omsk was met by several friends at the station. They very kindly suggested that a gentleman of their party should drive us to the town, and we were only too glad to avail ourselves of the offer. Our cavalier was a square, strongly built man, with a kindly red face and twinkling dark eyes. He helped us both to climb into his little Siberian droshky, and telling an " izvoschek " to follow with our baggage took his seat in front. We were soon jolting along in the dim moonlight over very uneven, but stoneless, ground. The only buildings in sight looked like barns and cattle sheds. I learnt afterwards that many of these were temporary shelters for emigrants who were obliged to halt there on their way further east. Our new friend, who only spoke about three words of German, turned round in his seat to reassure us. " I am a Jew," he said proudly, " I am a Jew ! "