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diff --git a/77082-0.txt b/77082-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0bafdf5 --- /dev/null +++ b/77082-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10087 @@ + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77082 *** + + + + + + THE RUSSIAN ROAD TO CHINA + + + + + [Illustration: A MAID OF OLD MUSCOVY (From a painting by Venuga)] + + + + + THE RUSSIAN ROAD + TO CHINA + + BY + + LINDON BATES, JR. + + + WITH ILLUSTRATIONS FROM PHOTOGRAPHS + + + [Illustration] + + + BOSTON AND NEW YORK + HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY + The Riverside Press Cambridge + 1910 + + + + + COPYRIGHT, 1910, BY LINDON BATES, JR. + + ALL RIGHTS RESERVED + + _Published May 1910_ + + + + +CONTENTS + + + I. THE PATH OF THE COSSACK 1 + + II. THE GREAT SIBERIAN RAILWAY 25 + + III. IN IRKUTSK 71 + + IV. SLEDGING THROUGH TRANSBAIKALIA 114 + + V. IN TATAR TENTS 173 + + VI. THE CITY OF THE REBORN GOD 220 + + VII. RUSSIA IN EVOLUTION 273 + + VIII. THE STORY OF THE HORDES 322 + + IX. CHINA 364 + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + + A MAID OF OLD MUSCOVY _Frontispiece_ + From a painting by Venuga + + YERMAK’S EXPEDITION TO SIBIR, ATTACKED BY THE TATARS 8 + From a painting by Surikova + + CHURCH OF ST. BASIL, MOSCOW 20 + Ivan the Terrible blinded its architect that he might never + duplicate the masterpiece + + BRIDGE OVER THE IRTISH 38 + + ALONG THE TRANS-SIBERIAN RAILWAY 38 + + DINING-CAR SALOON--VIEW OF THE LIBRARY 46 + + CITIES OF NEW RUSSIA--TIUMEN, TOMSK, PERM 50 + + ISLAND OF KALTIGEI, LAKE BAIKAL 68 + + VILLAGE OF LISTVIANITCHNOE, LAKE BAIKAL 68 + + THE ANGARA RIVER, IRKUTSK 76 + + THE CATHEDRAL, IRKUTSK 76 + + A CHAPEL IN IRKUTSK 86 + + BOLSHOISKAIA, IRKUTSK 86 + + THE BAZAAR, IRKUTSK 90 + + THE ICE-BREAKER, YERMAK--LAKE BAIKAL 98 + + THE ORGANIZERS OF THE CHITA REPUBLIC 108 + + BAIKAL STATION 116 + + THE HIGHLANDS OF TRANSBAIKALIA 116 + + SLEDGING SOUTHWARDS 126 + + SIBERIAN TYPES--PEASANT, VILLAGE STOREKEEPER 136 + + PEASANT TYPES 150 + + A CHICKOYA GIRL 164 + + A TROITZKOSAVSK STUDENT 164 + + A WAYSIDE TEMPLE 178 + + A MONGOL BELLE AND HER YURTA 186 + + A ZABAIKALSKAIA BURIAT 186 + + A MONGOL “BLACK MAN” 206 + + TEMPLE OF GIGIN, URGA 222 + + TEMPLE IN THE URGA LAMASERY 228 + + A PROSTRATING PILGRIMAGE 234 + + A GRAND LAMA 244 + + CHINESE MANDARIN 256 + + GIGIN, THE LIVING BUDDHA 256 + + CHINESE ARCHWAY, URGA MAIMACHEN 262 + + THE GREAT WALL 270 + + THE KREMLIN, MOSCOW 282 + + RUSSIAN TYPES--DRAGOON, CONSTABLE 292 + + STREET SCENES IN MOSCOW 302 + (The Tverskaia Gate, Loubianskaia Place) + + RUSSIAN TYPES--PEDDLER, POLICEMAN 316 + + THE MIRACLE OF ATTILA’S REPULSE 332 + (From the painting by Raphael in the Vatican) + + ON THE ROAD TO THE MING TOMBS 342 + + THE GLORY IS DEPARTED 360 + + THE BRIDGE AND TABLETS IN PEI-HAI 368 + + HSUEN-WU GATE, PEKING 374 + + PEKING, WHERE THE ALLIES’ MAIN ASSAULT WAS MADE 380 + + SUMMER PALACE OF THE EMPEROR 388 + + MAP OF ASIA, SHOWING ROUTE FROM MOSCOW TO PEKING 392 + + + + +THE RUSSIAN ROAD TO CHINA + +I + +THE PATH OF THE COSSACK + + +An ancient way leads across northern Asia to the Chinese borderland. +The steel of the great Siberian Railroad harnesses now the stretch +which mounts the Urals, pierces the steppes, winds through the Altai +foothills, and by cyclopean cuts and tunnels girdles Lake Baikal. From +Verhneudinsk southward, it has remained as an ancient post-road leading +through the Trans-Baikal highlands to the frontier garrison town of +Kiahta. Over the Mongolian border at Maimachen, it has narrowed into a +camel-trail threading the barren hills to the encampment of the Tatar +hordes at holy Urga. Thence it strikes across the sandy wastes of Gobi, +and passes the ramparts of the Great Wall of China, on its way toward +Peking and the Pacific. + +Through five centuries this road has been building. Cossacks blazed its +way; musketoon-armed Strelitz, adventuring traders, convicts condemned +for sins or sincerity, land-seeking peasants, exiled dissenters, +voyaging officials--all have trampled it. Hiving workmen under +far-brought engineers have pushed the rails onward, bridging the chasms +and heaping the defiles. Following it eastward, unpeopled wastes have +been sown to homesteads, hamlets have grown into cities. To the very +gateway of China it has led the Muscovite. It is the path of Slavic +advance. + +The way scarcely passed Novgorod in the early sixteenth century when +the great family of the Stroganovs, a “kindred in Moscovie called +the sonnes of Anika living neare the Castle of Saint Michael the +Archangel,” began the fur-trade with the Samoied tribesmen from +Siberia, who paddled down the Wichida River to barter peltries +with the Russians. The prudent merchant Anika, looking to a more +permanent source for those valued furs than the irregular visits of +the aborigines, planned to anticipate his brother traders in their +purchases. He sent east with a band of returning Samoieds some of +his own henchmen carrying, for traffic with the inhabitants, “divers +base merchandise, as small bels, and other like Dutch small wares.” +The agents returned to report what impressed them most. There were +no cities. The Samoieds were “lothsome in feeding,”--even a Russian +frontiersman might shrink from the cud of a reindeer’s stomach as +food,--and knew neither corn nor bread. They were cunning archers, +whose arrows were headed with sharpened stones and fishbones. They were +clad in skins, wearing in summer the furry side outward and in winter +inward. They willingly gave sable-skins for Dutch bells. + +A series of trading expeditions began, which made the Stroganovs so +enormously wealthy that “the kindred of Anika knew no ends of their +goods.” Indeed, they gained so much by this exploitation that they +began to fear the application by the Czar’s agent of a monetary test +of patriotism. So, by a stroke of finance not unknown in modern days, +there was arranged the Russian equivalent for carrying five thousand +shares of Metropolitan. A block of small wares for the account of the +Czar’s brother-in-law, Boris, was added to the stock in an especially +important expedition among the Samoieds and Ostiaks. The adventurers +got far inland. They saw men riding on elks, and sledges drawn by +dogs. They returned with wonderful tales of marksmanship, and, more +important, brought back enough furs to give Boris a dividend, in +gratitude for which he secured to the Stroganovs the grant of an +enormous tract of land along the Kama River and a monopoly of the trade +with the aborigines. + +The Stroganovs grew and thrived. They scattered trading-posts and +factories along the river-highways and sent many parties into the +interior to barter. In the half-century following old Anika’s +expedition, they had carried the Slavic way to the Urals. + +In the summer of 1578, when Maxim Stroganov was ruling over the family +estates along the Kama, one Yermak, heading a fugitive band of +Cossacks, tattered and spent, with dented armor and drooping ponies, +straggled into camp and offered service. With great delicacy Maxim +forbore pressing too closely his inquiry into their antecedents. It +might have wounded Yermak’s susceptibilities to avow that his chief +lieutenant, Ivan Koltso, was under sentence of death for capturing and +sacking a town of the Nogoy, and that the immediate cause of his advent +was an army of Imperial Strelitz, which had driven his band from the +Volga District for piracy and highway robbery. + +The situation on the far side of the Urals, where the skin-hunting +tribes had been conquered by a roving horde of Tatars under Kutchum +Khan, was at this time interfering sadly with the Stroganovs’ fur +business. Eight hundred Cossacks, furthermore, of shady character and +urgent needs were undesirable neighbors. So the prudent Maxim, not +particularly solicitous as to which of the two might be eliminated, +offered Yermak a supply of new muskets if he would go away and fight +the Tatars. They were not pleasant people for the Cossacks to meet, +these former masters of Moscow. But behind were the soldiers of Ivan +the Terrible. With a possible conquest before, and the Strelitz behind, +Yermak gladly chose to invade the Tatar territory, which is now western +Siberia. + +Up the Chusovaya River the little expedition started in 1579, +damming the stream with sails to get the boats across its shallows. +Penetrating far into the mountains, the band reached a point where a +portage could be made across the Ural water-shed. Then they headed down +the Tura River into Siberia. Here the invaders met the first army of +the Tatars under Prince Yepancha, and with small loss drove them back. +Yermak made his winter camp on the site of the present city of Tiumen. + +Next year the advance began once more. The Khan of the Tatars, Kutchum, +was alive to the seriousness of the incursion, and prepared to ambush +the Cossack flotilla as it descended the Tura. At a chosen spot chains +were stretched across the stream, and bowmen were stationed on the +banks to await the coming of Yermak and overwhelm with arrows his +impeded forces. The Tatar sentries above the ambuscade signaled the +coming of the boats; all eyes were turned intently upstream. Then +Yermak’s soldiers fell upon them from the rear, to their total surprise +and his complete victory. Straw-stuffed figures in Cossack garments had +come down in the boats; the men themselves had made a land-circuit and +had struck the enemy unprepared. + +In defense of his threatened capital, Sibir, the old Khan rallied once +more. He assembled a great army, thirty times that of the Cossacks. +For the invaders, however, retreat was more perilous than advance. +Yermak went on, and in a great fight on the banks of the Irtish, again +prevailed. With his forces reduced by battle and disease to some three +hundred effectives, he entered Sibir on October 25, 1581. A few days +later the Ostiak tribes, glad to escape their Koran-coercing masters, +proffered their allegiance, and the Cossack saddle was on Siberia. + +But how precarious was their seat! Southward were the myriads of the +unconquered hordes of Tatary; only one of the score of their khans had +been vanquished. As thistledown is blown before the wind, so could +Yermak’s oft-decimated band have been swept away had once the march of +the Mongols’ main division turned northward. Girding him round were the +self-submitting Ostiaks, loyal for the moment to those who had won them +freedom from the old proselyting overlord, but not long to be relied +upon once the weight of Cossack tribute--the fur-yassak--began to be +felt. + +But what the Tatar hordes had not, what the Ostiak hunters had not, the +three hundred Cossacks had--a man. This man, starting his march as the +hunted captain of a band of outlaws, could conquer half a continent. +Then over the heads of his employers, the mighty family of Stroganov, +over the heads of governors of provinces, of boyars, of ministers +to the throne, he could send by his outlaw lieutenant, Ivan Koltso, +loftily, imperially, as a prince to a king, his offer of the realm of +Siberia to Ivan Vasilevich. + +Ivan the Terrible, Czar of all the Russias, he who had blinded the +architect of St. Basil, lest he plan a second masterpiece; he who had +tortured and slain a son, hated less for his intrigues than for his +unroyal weakness, responded imperially. Over the long versts Ivan’s +courier carried to Yermak a pardon, confirmation as ruler of the +newly-won realm and the Czar’s own mantle, an honor accorded only to +the greatest, the boyars of Muscovy. Following the messenger eastward +there plodded three hundred musket-armed Strelitz to bear aid to the +Cossack garrison. Sorely now were these reinforcements needed, for +the Ostiak tribes flamed into rebellion against King Stork. With +Kutchum’s Tatars, they returned to the attack and besieged Sibir. Once +again, though hemmed about by the multitude of his enemies, the valor +of Yermak saved his cause. In a totally unexpected sally, in June, +1584, the Tatar camp was surprised, a great number massacred, and the +besiegers scattered. + +The whole country, however, save only the city of Sibir, was still in +arms. Engagements between small parties were constant. Ivan Koltso, +striving to open a way for a trader’s caravan, fell with his fifty, cut +down to the last man. Yermak, marching out to avenge him, was himself +surprised near the Irtish. With Ulysses-like adroitness, he and two +followers escaped the massacre and reached the river-bank, where a +small skiff promised safety. Leaping last for the boat, Yermak fell +short, and, weighted with his armor, sank in the river that he had +given to Russia. The two Cossack soldiers alone floated down to their +comrades. + +One hundred and fifty, all that were left of them, started their long +homeward retreat. Far from Sibir, they met a hundred armed men sent by +the Czar. Great was the spirit, not unworthy of the dead leader, that +turned them back, to march to a site twelve miles from Sibir, where +they built their own town, now the city of Tobolsk. + +In the years that followed, their nomad enemies drifted south, +leaving those behind who cared not for their old khan’s quarrels. The +phlegmatic Ostiaks returned to their hunting and to their feasts of +uncooked fox-entrails. The long fight had rolled past, leaving the +Slavic way undisputed to the Irtish. + +Well it was, for no more of the Strelitz marched to the aid of the +garrisons. Russia was in the throes of civil war and invasion,--the +long-remembered “Smutnoe Vremya,” time of troubles. Boris Godunov, once +favorite of Ivan the Terrible, became the real ruler in the reign of +the weak Feodor. On the death of this prince, with the heir-apparent +Dimitri suspiciously slain, he had mounted the empty throne, and a +pretender, claiming to be Dimitri miraculously escaped, had risen up +in Poland, gained the support of the king, and marched against Boris. +Though the Polish army was routed, Boris succumbed shortly after to a +poison-hastened demise. + +[Illustration: YERMAK’S EXPEDITION TO SIBIR ATTACKED BY THE TATARS +(From a painting by Surikova)] + +Dimitri attacked the new czar, captured Moscow, and was crowned in the +Kremlin by the Poles. A revolution followed within a year, in which +the pseudo-Dimitri was slain. Meanwhile the Poles were devastating +Russia more cruelly than had the old Tatar conquerors. At length Minim +the butcher of Novgorod led a popular revolt, which in 1613 carried to +the throne Michael, the first of the Romanovs. + +Through all these years, despite the fact that anarchy and chaos +rioted over Muscovy, despite the fact that no troops came to aid in +the advance, the Cossacks still pressed their way, contested by the +scattered bands of Tatars, and farther on by the Buriats, the Yakuts, +the Koriats. After these fighters and conquerors came the traders and +colonists, with their families, following along the road that had been +won. The valleys of the great Siberian rivers, which so short a time +before had been the grazing-grounds of the Tatars, became dotted now +with the farms of the new-come settlers. The advance guards of the +fur-traders, with blockhouses guarding the portages, and clustering +wooden huts and churches, pushed south and east as far as Kuznetz, at +the head of navigation on the River Tom, and to the foot of the Altai +Mountains. North and east the trade-route was advanced to the Yenesei, +twenty-two hundred miles inland. As many as sixty-eight hundred sables +went back to Russia in 1640, together with great quantities of fox, +ermine, and squirrel-skins. + +The quaint volumes of “Purchas his Pilgrimes,” published in 1625, +tell of some of the early explorations. A band of Cossacks dared the +upper Yenesei, which “hath high mountains to the east, among which +are some that cast out fire and brimstone.” They made friends of the +cave-dwelling Tunguses in this region, who were themselves stirred +to explore, and went on far eastward to another river, less than the +Yenesei but as rapid. By faster running the Tunguses caught some of +the inhabitants, who pointed across the river and said “Om! Om!” The +old chronicler diligently records the speculation as to what “Om! Om!” +could mean. Some thought that it signified thunder, others held it a +warning that the great beyond teemed with devils. These unfortunate +slow-running natives died, “probably of fright,” when the Tunguses, in +a spirit as naïvely unfeeling as if they were collecting curios, were +taking them back to be exhibited to their friends the Cossacks. How +far these Tunguses had pierced cannot be told. In one of the dialects +of the Yakuts who live beyond Baikal, “ta-oom” or “tanak-hoom” means +“greetings.” Had the Tunguses and the Cossacks who followed them +arrived at the Yakuts’ country? Or was the river on which passed “ships +with sails” and beyond which was heard the booming of brazen bells +the Amur? Were those the junks and temple-gongs of the Manchus? _Ni +snaia_,--who knows? + +In 1637 the Cossacks reached and established themselves in Yakutsk. In +1639 by the far northern route they pierced to the Sea of Okhotsk. In +1644 a party reached the delta of the Kalyma, and curiously speculated +upon the mammoth tusks which they found. In 1648, on the Cellinga +River beyond Lake Baikal they built Fort Verhneudinsk. Had their tide +of conquest now rolled southward, up the Cellinga Valley, the Russian +Eagles might to-day be flying over Peking. Only the Kentai Mountains +were between them and prostrate Mongolia, enfeebled by the internecine +warfare of her rival khans. From Mongolia, the road, worn by so many +conquerors of old, leads fair and clear to the Chi-li Province and the +heart of China. + +But they passed this gateway by, those old Cossack heroes, as the +railway builders have passed it by, to press with Poyarkov to the +Pacific; to conquer, with Khabarov, the Amur; to meet in desperate +conflict the whale-skin cuirassed Koriats of the coast; to battle with +the Manchu in conflicts where “by the Grace of God and the Imperial +good fortune, and our efforts, many of those dogs were slain”; to fight +until but an unvanquished sixty-eight were left of the garrison of +eight hundred in beleaguered Albazin. + +The current of conquest passed by this door to China, but the swelling +stream of commerce searched it out. In 1638, the Boyar Pochabov, +crossing Baikal on the ice, broke the first way to Urga, the capital of +the Mongolian Great Khan, and gained the friendship of the monarch. In +the interests of trade, the deputies of the Czar Alexei Michailovitch +followed up the opening with an embassy in 1654 to the Chinese Emperor +himself. Over steppe and mountain and desert the mission wound its +weary way to Kalgan, the outpost city beside the Chinese Wall, and then +on to Peking, bearing to the Bogdo Khan, the Yellow Czar, the presents +of Chagan Khan, the White Czar. + +From the Forbidden Palace at Peking were started back, four years +later, return presents, including ten _puds_ of the first tea that +reached Russia. With the presents came a message that drove flame into +the bearded cheeks of the Czar and set his Muscovite boyars to grasping +their sword-hilts. “In token of our especial good-will we send gifts in +return for your tribute.” Thus, the Chinese Emperor. + +The answer of the Czar started another legation plodding across a +continent, and the retort was thrown at the feet of his Yellow Majesty. +It was a summons forthwith to tender his vassalage to Russia. The +Czar’s gauntlet had been hurled across Asia. But all it brought was +beggary to the traders who had begun to press along the newly-opened +route to a commercial conquest of the East. + +Soon Russia regretted the fruitage of her challenge. In 1685 Golovin’s +embassy left Moscow, and, arriving two years later at Verhneudinsk, +opened negotiations with Peking. A Chinese commission then made its way +north, and at Nerchinsk, August 27, 1689, was signed the famous treaty +closing to Russia her Amur outlet to the Pacific, purchased with such +desperate valor at Albazin, but granting to a limited number of Russian +merchants trading privileges into China. + +A lively traffic at once sprang up. Long caravans, silk- and tea-laden, +crossed the Mongolian deserts, the Siberian steppes and hills, and the +forested Urals, taking the road to Europe. A little Russian settlement +was founded at Peking, and a traders’ caravansary was built. The church +constructed by the prisoners of Albazin, who had been so kindly treated +by the Manchus that they at first refused the release which the treaty +brought, gave place to a larger edifice erected by popes from Russia. + +Soon, however, the Russians again offended the Celestial Emperor. In +their riotous living, the quickly enriched merchants disquieted the +sober Chinese. The Siberians over the frontier gave asylum to a band +of seven hundred Mongol free-booters, whom it was urgently desired to +present to a Chinese headsman. So commerce was forbidden anew, and +most of the reluctant merchants left their compound. Some stayed and +assimilated with the Chinese, retaining, however, their religion; and +for years a mixed race observed in Peking the rites of Greek Orthodox +Christianity. + +It may seem strange that rulers so energetic as Peter the Great and +some of his successors took no steps to resent by force of arms the +arbitrary acts of the Chinese Emperor. But much was going on in +Russia; Peter was occupied with his invasion of Persia, and Catherine +was without taste for a distant and doubtful campaign. The garrisons +scattered over the enormous area of Siberia were numerically too weak +and too poorly equipped to do more than hold their own. So, when +commerce was once more interdicted and the merchants banished, recourse +was had to diplomacy. In 1725 the Bogdo Khan relented enough to receive +Count Ragusinsky with a special embassy from Catherine the First, which +arranged the second great agreement with China, called the Treaty of +Kiahta. + +By it the frontier cities of Kiahta in Siberia, and Maimachen, facing +it just across the line in Mongolia, were established as the gateway +to Chinese trade. The treaty provided for the extradition of bandits +and for a perpetual peace and friendship between the high contracting +parties. Ever since, the citizens of Kiahta have alternately blessed +and blamed Ragusinsky,--blamed him because, in the fear lest any stream +flowing out of Chinese into Russian territory should be poisoned, he +settled the boundary city beside a Siberian brook so inadequate that +Kiahtans have suffered ever since for lack of water, with the river +Bura only nine versts away in China; blessed him because of the great +prosperity the treaty brought to their doors. + +The tea carried by this highway became Russia’s national drink. Great +warehouses arose, built caravansary-wise around courts. Endless files +of two-wheeled carts rolled northward, bearing each its ten square +bales of tea, or its well-packed bolts of silk. The merchants grew +wealthy in the rapidly swelling trade. + +A great Chinese embassy, headed by the third ranking official of +the Peking Foreign Office, made its way to Moscow to keep permanent +the relations of the two empires. Similarly, a Russian embassy was +established in the rebuilt compound in Peking, where a new church +arose, whose archimandrite gained a comfortable revenue by selling +ikons and crucifixes to the many Chinese converts he had baptized. + +Catherine the Second’s edict opened to all Russians the freedom of +Chinese trade. Its volume, large before, became now even greater. In +1780 the registered commerce at Kiahta had risen to 2,868,333 roubles, +not to mention the large value of the goods taken in unregistered. + +Tea, a pound of which, if of best quality, cost two roubles in those +days, silks, porcelains, cottons, and tobacco, went north, exchanged +for Russian peltries, for cloth, hardware, and, curiously enough, +hunting-dogs. + +An English merchant, who had penetrated to Kiahta in that year, gives +an amusing account of the mutual distrust with which the barter was +conducted. The Russian going over the frontier to Maimachen would +examine the goods in the Chinese warehouse, seal up what he desired, +and leave two men on guard. The Chinese merchant would then come to +Kiahta, and do the same with the Russian’s wares. When the bargain was +struck, both together carried one shipment over the border with guards +and brought back the exchange. + +In growing prosperity, undisturbed, the Kiahta caravans came and went, +while elsewhere history was warm in the making. + +Napoleon marched to Moscow, to Leipsic, to Waterloo. The Kiahta +caravans came and went. The St. Petersburg Dekabrists rose for +Constantine and the Constitution. The Kiahta caravans came and went. +The Crimean War saw the Russian flag flutter down at Sevastopol. Even +as the Malakoff was stormed, a Russian army marched into Central Asia +to seize the Zailust Altai slope, which points as a spear toward +Turkestan and India, and a Russian navy sailed under Muraviev to occupy +the forbidden Amur. The Kiahta caravans came and went. + +At length a railroad, pushed year by year, reached the Pacific. One +branch cut across the reluctantly-accorded Manchurian domain to +Vladivostok; another struck southward to Dalny and Niu-chwang. The +Russian Eagles perched at Port Arthur and nested by the far Pacific. + +The camel-commerce of the old overland road across Mongolia shrank +now as shrinks a Gobi snow-rivulet under the burning desert sun. The +meagre Kiahta caravans became but a gaunt shadow of the mighty past. +Only an intermittent wool-export and a dwindling traffic in tea to +the border cities remained of the great tribute of the Urga Road. As +trade vanished from their once busy warehouses, the Chinese merchants +were troubled. Perhaps to prayer and sacrifice the God of Commerce +would relent? So a scarlet temple rose on the hill by Maimachen. +Prosperity came suddenly once again, a new trade rolled north over the +historic way. The Mongol cart-drivers returned from far Ulasati. The +camel-trains, that had scattered south to the trails beyond Shama, +gathered back as antelopes herd to a new spring in the desert. + +The God of the Red Temple, the God of the Caravan, had sent the +Japanese. As the Amban’s executioner strikes off a victim’s hand, so +had the Nipponese lopped away the railroad reaching down to Dalny and +Niu-chwang--the road that was breaking the camel-trade a thousand +versts beyond, on the old route by Maimachen and Kiahta. Against the +Russian control of the Pacific the Japanese had hurled all their +gathered might. By battle genius and efficiency the Island soldiers +won, and athwart the front of Slavic empire they set their desperate +legions. Far more was lost to Russia than men and squandered treasure, +far more than prestige and power of place. The enormous stakes, even +in the port of Dalny, in the forts of Port Arthur, in the East China +Railway, were but incidents. The real tragedy of the war was that the +vital terminus of her continent railroad was alienated, and that her +civilization was barred back indefinitely. + +The soldiers and statesmen who carried Russia’s power across a savage +continent had sought out many inventions. But by whatever means +each successive territory was won, its maintenance had been by the +warrant that the Slavs had gone not lightly, adventuring to conquest, +but as an earnest host clearing a way for the homes and the hearths +of their race. The colonist had followed the Cossack; cities and +villages, railways and telegraphs, had risen behind the armies. The +dawn of the twentieth century saw a mighty expanse of Siberia redeemed +from a desolate waste to a land of farms and villages, of mines and +industries; a native population, once hardly superior to the American +Indian, not, like him, displaced and exterminated, but raised side +by side with the settlers to a more equitable place than is held by +any other subject people in Asia. The Russian advance had brought +the establishment of the volunteer fleet plying from far Odessa to +Vladivostok, and the completion of the greatest railway enterprise +the world has ever seen. It had opened from Europe to the Far East +a land-route more important to more people than the water-route +discovered by Vasco da Gama. The fruition of a nation’s hope was lost +when the Eagles went down at Port Arthur. + +For those who feast at Russia’s cost the reckoning is long. +Predecessors not unfamed are worthy of remembrance: the Tatars who +lorded it four hundred years, the Poles whose kings caroused in the +Kremlin, the great Emperor, with his Grande Armée, whose stabled horses +scarred the walls of St. Basil, the Turks, the Swedes,--all conquerors +of yesterday. But long years must take their toll of life and gold +before Russia can carry the entrenched lines along the Yalu, and +reënter the redoubts hewn in the sterile hills around Port Arthur. The +spoils to the victors for the present are unchallenged. The Russian way +to China is not now through Manchuria. + +But the ancient road of the Kiahta caravans is still unblocked. Here +is the shortest route from Europe to the East. Here, through the +defiles and the broken foothills of the Gobi Plateau, lies the future +redemption of the great unfettered land-route to North China. The +Chinese are themselves advancing to anticipate it. They have already +built into Kalgan. To this trading-centre across the pale, a Russian +railway may yet pass and her colonists make fruitful the unpeopled +wilds of Mongolia. + +In the cycles of progress old paths are reworn. Pharaoh’s canal from +the Mediterranean to the Red Sea was swallowed up under the sands of +three thousand years when the Genoans won a way across the Isthmus. +Their track was left unsought when the Portuguese showed the route for +ships around the Cape. Yet to-day the Strait of Suez is thronged with +reborn commerce. + +The first American highway to the Western Reserve was superseded by +the better avenue of the newly built Erie Canal, yet came to its own +again beneath the tracks of the Baltimore and Ohio. So, far to the +westward of Japan’s outpost, the age-old caravan road, with a shadowy +fantastic history dim as its dun trail across the desert, may rise to a +resurrected glory as a new road to China. + +Its greatness is of yesterday and of to-morrow. Unto to-day belongs the +quaintness of the cavalcade that passes to and fro along its track. +Over the frozen snows of winter and the rocky trails of summer there +plod horse and ox and camel, sleigh and wagon and cart,--a broken line +of men and beasts. Russian posts thunder past with galloping horses, +three abreast. Bands of Cossacks convoy the guarded camel-trains of +heavy mail for China. One meets troops of boyish recruits, singing +lustily in chorus on the tramp northward, and Mongol carts and +flat-featured Buriats on their little shaggy ponies, sleepy wooden +villages, forests, steppes, swamps, frozen river-courses, mountain +passes. + +Through the kaleidoscope of races and peoples one moves in a +world-forgotten life, a procession of the ages. + +[Illustration: CHURCH OF ST. BASIL, MOSCOW (Ivan the Terrible blinded +its architect that he might never duplicate the masterpiece)] + +On the threshold of Siberia the traveler has turned back in manner, in +ways of thought, in government, in everything, to the past. Go into one +of these cities,--you are in the Germany of 1849, with the embers still +hot of the fire lighted by the republican movement of the young men +and the industrials. The seeming chance of victory has passed them +by. The iron hand is over all. One hears of Siberian Carl Schurzes, +fugitives to America and to Switzerland, of the month-lived Chita +Republic, of the row of gallows at Verhneudinsk, of the bloody assizes +at Krasnoyarsk. + +It is as if one lived when citizens gathered in excited groups in the +Forum to discuss the news from Philippi; or as if, from the broken +masonry of the Tuileries, there stepped out into breathing actuality +the five hundred Marseillaises “who know how to die,” fronting the +red Swiss before the palace of Louis, the King. Here is the reality +of friends in hiding, of files of soldiers at each railway-station, +of police-examined passports without which one cannot sleep a night +in town, of arms forbidden, meetings forbidden, books forbidden,--all +things forbidden. Here as there men thought that the new could come +only by revolution. Yet one can see, despite all, the germs of +improvement and the upward pressures of evolution. + +Move further toward the frontier towns, where the relayed horses +bring the weekly mail,--you have gone back a hundred and fifty years. +You are among our own ancestors of the days of the Stamp Act. Did +the General Howe who governs the oblast from his Irkutsk residency +overhear the school-boys of Troitzkosavsk as they chant the forbidden +_Marseillaise_, he, too, might say that freedom was in the air. These +Siberian frontiersmen shoot the deer with their permitted flint-locks +as straight as the neighbors of Israel Putnam, and with spear and gun +they face the bear that the dusky Buriat hunters have tracked to its +lair. + +Our Puritans are there, rugged, red-bearded dissenters, “Stare’ +Obriachi,” Old Believers, they are called, who came to Siberia +rather than use Bishop Nikon’s amended books of prayer. Yankee-like, +outspoken, keen at a trade, are these big Siberian sons of men who +dared greatly in their long frozen march. The grants to Lord Baltimores +and Padroon Van Rensselaers are in the vast “cabinetski” estates of the +grand-ducal circle, engulfing domains great as European kingdoms. + +Go into one of the villages of the peasants transplanted in a body by +the paternal Government. Here are the patient, enduring recruits for +the army, brothers to the toilers over whose fields the Grand Monarch’s +wars rolled back and forth. Though steeped in ignorance and overwhelmed +by the incubus of communism, they are capable of real and splendid +manhood, and will show it when their world has struggled through into +the century in which we others live. + +Go to a mining-camp in the Chickoya Valley. It is California and the +days of ’49. Histories as romantic as those of the Sierras are being +lived out in its unsung gorges,--tales of hardships, of grub-stakes, of +bonanzas in Last Chance Gulches. + +When the bumping tarantass rolls across the Chinese frontier into +Mongolia, it enters a kingdom of the Middle Ages flung down into the +twentieth century. Feudal princes, lords of armies weaponed with spear +and bow, tax and drive to the corvée their nomad serfs. A hierarchy +of priests whose divine head lives in a palace at Holy Urga, sways +the multitude of superstition-steeped Mongols, and receives the +homage of pilgrims wending their way from Siberia, from the Volga, +from Tibet, from all Mongolia, to their Canterbury of Lamaism. In +prostrate devotion the penitents girdle the Sacred City before whose +hovels beggars dispute with dogs their common nourishment, and in +whose compounds princes of the race of Genghis Khan, with armies of +retainers, live bedless, bathless, lightless, in the felt huts of +their race. Squalid magnificence and good-humored kindly hospitality +are linked to utter brutality. Sable-furs and silks cover sheepskins +worn until they drop from the body. Here and there among the natives a +Chinese trading caravansary, alien, walled, peculiar, stands as of old +the Hansa-town, with merchant guilds and far-brought caravan goods. + +A way of adventure and strangeness, where the years turn back, is this +old road of the Golden Horde, leading down past the ancestral homes of +the Turks to the Great Wall. + +The Cossack sentries at Kiahta look Chinaward. They have become an +anomaly, this hard-riding, fierce-fighting soldier class. The plow has +metamorphosed into myriad farms the plains along the Don where once +their ponies grazed. Mining-cuts score the hills in the Urals where +once they hunted. Villages of Slavonic peasants rise along the Amur. +The sons of the old warriors grow into peaceful farmer-folk, differing +in name alone from their blue-eyed neighbors. Soon they must disappear +in all save picturesquely uniformed Hussars of the Guard, and as a +memory, chanted by young men and girls in the Siberian summer evenings +when Yermak’s song is raised. The task of the Cossack, to lead in the +conquest of kindred native races and to weld these through themselves +into Russia’s fabric, is nearly done. + +Down the ancient road lies a last avenue of advance. Eastward is +Manchuria, where artillery and science grappling must decide the day +with Japan. Southward is India, where England’s guarded gateway among +the hills can be opened only from behind. But into Mongolia Fate may +decree that the yellow-capped Cossacks, drafted from Russia’s Mongol +Buriats, shall lead once more the nation-absorbing march of the White +Czar. For another memorable ride, the Cossacks, who on their shaggy +ponies led the long conquering way across the continent, may yet mount +and take the road to China. + + + + +II + +THE GREAT SIBERIAN RAILWAY + + +How long to Irkutsk? Seven days now, seven years when last I +came.” The bearded Russian standing in the doorway of the adjoining +compartment in the corridor-car of the Siberian Express gazes +thoughtfully at the fir-covered slope, whose dark green stands in +sombre contrast to the winter snows. The train is slowly climbing the +Ural Range, toward the granite pyramid near Zlatoust, on opposite +sides of which are graven “Europe” and “Asia.” Neighbors with easy +sociability are conversing along the wide corridors, exchanging stories +and cigarettes, asking each other’s age and income in naïve Siberian +style. + +Regarding the burly occupant of the next stateroom one may discreetly +speculate. From sable-lined paletot and massive gold chains you hazard +that he voyaged with the traders’ slow caravans in the days before the +railway--that he was a merchant. + +“A merchant? _Optovi?_ No, I did not come with the caravans.” + +From the triangle of red lapel-ribbon, the rank-bestowing decoration, +you venture a second guess. + +“Perhaps the _gaspadine_ made the great circuit to oversee the local +administrations? He was a government inspector--_Revizor?_” + +“_Chinovnik niet navierno_,” he answers. Most decidedly he was not an +official. The suggestion causes him to smile broadly. “I was with the +convicts,” he says. + +Beside the line of rails curves the old post-road winding like a ribbon +through the highlands. + +“It was by that road we marched. Seven years of my life lie along it.” + +The train swings through a cleft hewn in the living rock, steep-sided +as if the mountain had been gashed with a mighty axe. It rumbles around +the base of an overhanging crag while you look clear down over the +white valley, with the miles of rolling green forest beyond. + +“Was not seven years a long time for the march?” you venture. + +“For a traveler, yes; for convict bands not unusual. We went back and +forth, now northward a thousand versts as to Archangel, now west as +to Moscow, now south as to Rostov. Again and again our troop would +split, and part be sent another way. New prisoners would be added, from +Warsaw, Finland, Samara. New guards would take charge. Some groups +would go to the West Siberian stations, some east to the Pacific and +Sakhalin. I, who was written down for ten years at the Petrovski Works +beyond Baikal Lake, with a third commuted for good behavior, had +finished my term before I got there.” + +“Why did they wander so aimlessly?” + +“It seems truly as a butterfly’s flight, but you others do not know the +way of Russia. Very slowly, very deviously she goes, but surely, none +the less, to her goal. We each came at last to our place.” + +A match flares up and he lights another cigarette. + +“Shall we not go to the ‘wagon restoran’ for a glass of tea?” you ask. + +Along the broad aisles you walk, past the staterooms, filled with +baggage, littered with bedding, kettles, novels, and fur overcoats. +Everything is in direst confusion, and the owners are sandwiched +precariously between their belongings. On the little tables which are +raised between the seats, they are playing endless games of cards, +sipping tea and nonchalantly smoking cigarettes the while. You pass the +stove-niches at the car entrances, heaped to the ceiling with cut wood. +The fire-tenders as you pass give the military salute. You cross the +covered bridges between the cars, where are little mounds of the snow +that has sifted in around the crevices; and a belt of cold air tells +of the zero temperature outside. At length the double doors of the +foremost car appear ahead, and crossing one more arctic zone over the +couplings, you can hang your fur cap by the door and salute the ikon +that with ever-burning lamp looks down over the parlor-car. Now you can +sit on the broad sofa set along the wall, or doze in the corner-rocker +under the bookcase, or sit tête-à-tête in armchairs over a miniature +table. Ladies here, as well as men, are chatting, reading, and smoking, +for this combination parlor, _fumoir_, and dining-room is for all, +not a resort to which the masculine element shamefacedly steals for +unshared indulgences. + +“_Dva stakan chai, pajolst_” (two glasses of tea, please), your friend +says to the aproned _chelaviek_, a Tatar from Kazan. + +“_Stakan vodka_,” you add; for you are willing to contribute twenty +kopecks to the government revenues if this beverage will help out the +memoirs of your friend, the convict. + +“_Say chass_,” replies the waiter, which means, literally, “this hour,” +figuratively, “at once,” actually, whenever he chances to recall that +your party wants a glass of tea and another of vodka. When at length +the refreshments have come, your companion gets gradually back to the +reminiscences. + +“Were your comrades many on that march?” + +“Twenty-six from my school in Odessa,” he says. He tells of the tumult +in the Polytechnic Academy, when he was a boy of sixteen studying +engineering; of the barricade which the students threw up; of the +soldiers sent against it; of an officer wounded with a stone, and +the sentence to the mines. He tells of the journey, day after day, +the miserable company trudging under the burning suns of summer and +shivering under the biting cold of winter, ill-fed and in rags. He +recalls how this friend and that friend sickened and died; how a +peasant-woman gave him a dried fish; how one of the criminals tried +to escape and was lashed with the _plet_ until he fainted beneath its +strokes. + +“We were a sad procession. First came the Cossacks on their ponies, +with their carbines and sabres. Then the murderers for Sakhalin, and +the dangerous criminals in fetters; a few women next; then we, the +politicals; last, more soldiers marching behind. Far to the rear +came carts and wagons with the wives and families of the prisoners, +following their men into exile. Slowly we went, scarcely more than +fifteen versts a day, with a rest one day out of three, for the women. +In winter we camped in stations along the road.” + +From the comfortable leather armchairs they seem infinitely distant +and dream-like, these tales from the dark ages of Siberia. The +speaker seems to have forgotten his auditor and to be talking to +himself, and soon he relapses into silence. He sits holding his glass +of lemon-garnished tea, like a resting giant with his shaggy beard +and mighty chest. The drag of the brakes is felt through the train. +“_Desiet minute stoit_” (ten minutes’ stop), somebody calls out. +Suddenly, with an effort, the man across the table rouses from his +reverie, and looks about the car, when the broad smile comes back and +he says earnestly:-- + +“You must not think of that as the true Siberia. It was all long +ago--thirty-five years. And you see I who became a _kayoshnik_, +a gold-seeker, have prospered, and work many mines. I am glad now +that they sent me to Siberia. And many others prosper who came with +the convicts. The old dark Siberia dies, but our new Siberia of the +railroad lives, and grows great.” + +He rises resolutely and shakes your hand with a vise-like grip. + +“_De svidania!_” (Till we meet again.) + +You rise with the rest, draw on your fur cap and gloves, work into the +heavy fur-lined overcoat, and clamber down to the platform. A little +wooden station-house painted white is opposite the carriage door. It +has projecting eaves and quaint many-paned windows. In front of it is a +post with a large brazen bell. On the big signboard you can spell out +from the Russian letters “Zlatoust.” This is the summit station of the +pass that crosses the Urals. Around are standing stolid sheep-skinned +figures, bearded peasants just in from their sledges, which are ranked +outside the fence. Fur-capped mechanics, carrying wrenches and hammers, +move from car to car to tighten bolts and test wheels for the long +eastward pull. Uniformed station attendants are here and there, some +with files of bills of lading. As you walk down the platform among +the crowd, you come upon a soldier, duffle-coated and muffled in his +capote, standing stoically with fixed bayonet. Forty paces further +there is another, and beyond still another, all the length of the +platform, and far up the line. What a symbol of Russian rule are these +silent sentries! And what a mute tale is told in the necessity for a +guard at every railroad halting-place in the Empire! + +You stroll along toward the engine. Huge and box-like are the big steel +cars, five of which compose the train. Two second-class wagons painted +in mustard yellow are rearmost, then come the first-class, painted +black, next the “wagon restoran” and the luggage-van, where the much +advertised and little used bath-room and gymnasium are located. The +engine is a big machine, but of low power, unable to make much speed; +and the high grades and the road-bed, poor in many places, additionally +limit progress. It is apparent why the train rarely moves at a rate +greater than twenty miles an hour. + +At first you do not notice the cold. But now that you have walked for +a few minutes along the platform, it seems to gather itself for an +attack, as if it had a personality. You draw erect with tense muscles, +for the system sets itself instinctively on guard. The light breeze +that stirs begins to smart and sting like lashes across the face. The +hand drawn for a moment from the fleece-lined glove, stiffens into +numbed uselessness. As you march rapidly up and down the platform, an +involuntary shiver shakes you from head to foot. A fellow passenger, +remarking it, observes:-- + +“It is not cold to-day, in fact, quite warm. _Ochen jarko._” + +You walk together to the big thermometer that hangs by the +station-door. It is marked with the Réaumur Scale, and your brain is +too torpid for multiplications. But the slightly built official, known +as a government engineer by green-bordered uniform and crossed hammers +on his cap, is inspecting the mercury also. + +“Eight degrees below zero Fahrenheit,” he says. “Quite warm for +January. It is often thirty-five degrees below zero here in the Uralsk.” + +It gets colder at the suggestion. The three starting-bells ring, and +everybody scrambles into the compartments. + +The express rolls onward down the Urals. You stroll back to the warm +dining-room and idly watch the groups around. Across the way is an +elderly mild-looking officer, whose gold epaulettes, zig-zagged with +silver furrows, are the insignia of a major-general. He smokes endless +cigarettes in company with another officer lesser in degree, a major, +decorated with the Russo-Japanese service-medal, smart of carriage +and alert of look. By the window beyond is a young German, gazing +meditatively at the hills and the snow through the bottom of a glass +of Riga beer. A rather bright-mannered dame, with rings on her fingers +and long pendants in her ears, chats vivaciously in French with a +phlegmatic-looking personage in a tight-fitting blue coat which buttons +up to his throat like a fencer’s jacket. A quietly-dressed gentleman, +evidently in civil life, is reading one of the library copies of de +Maupassant. + +Outside, cut and tunnel, hill, slope, and valley, green forest, white +drifted snow, and bare craggy rocks, the Urals glide past. The little +track-wardens’ stations beside the way snap back as if jerked by a +sudden hand, and the telegraph-poles catch up in endless monotony the +sagging wires. + +The Tatar waiter goes from place to place, clearing off the ashes and +the glasses, and getting ready for dinner. There is a table-d’hôte +repast, the Russian _obeid_, a meal which starts with a fiery vodka +gulp any time after noon, and tails off in the falling shadows of the +winter sunset with tea and cigarettes. Or, if one wishes, he may press +the bell, labeled in the Græco-Slavonic lettering, “Buffet,” and dine à +la carte. + +“Il vaut mieux essayer le repas Russe,” says the quiet reader of de +Maupassant, joining you. + +He is duly thanked for the advice, and we beckon to the aproned waiter. +At once the latter passes the countersign kitchenward to set the meal +in motion, and puts before us the little liqueur-glasses and the bottle +of vodka. While we still gasp and blink over this, he has gotten +the cold _zakuska_ of black rye-bread and butter, _sardinka_, salty +_beluga_, and cold ham, and has started us on the first course. Then +comes in, after the omni-inclusive _zakuska_, a big pot of cabbage-soup +which we are to season with a swimming spoonful of thick sour cream. +The chunky pieces of half-boiled meat floating in it are left high +and dry by the consumption of the liquid. The meat becomes the third +course, which we garnish with mustard and taste. + +“Voyons!” the Frenchman observes. “Of the Russian cuisine and its +method of preparing certain food-substances one may not approve. +Frankly it calls for the sauce of a prodigious appetite. But +contemplating the _obeid_ as an institution so evolved as to fit into +the general scheme of life, it finds merit. The Russian meal is a guide +to Russian character.” + +“What signifies this mélange of raw fish, eggs, and great slices of +flesh, and mush of cabbage-soup?” + +“Not that the Russian has no taste. It is that he sacrifices his finer +susceptibilities to his love of freedom. A regular hour for meals +would seem to him a sacrifice of his leisure and convenience to that +of the cook. The guiding principle of the national cuisine is that all +dishes must be capable of being served at any time that the eater feels +disposed.” + +This is a problem to put to any kitchen, we allow. Napoleon’s chef +met it by relays of roasting chickens. But one cannot keep half a +dozen fowl going for each household of the one hundred and forty +million inhabitants of Russia. Thus sturgeon is provided, and sterlet, +parboiled so that it tastes like blotting-paper; and the filet +that is called “biftek,” and the oil-sodden “Hamburger,” that is +dubbed “filet.” These can be started at nine in the morning, and be +removed at any time between that hour and nine at night, without any +appreciable change in taste or texture. The cook of the restaurant, +like his brethren of the Empire, has laid his professional conscience +sacrificially upon the national altar of unfettered meals. If the +_obeid_ is not a triumph in culinary art, it is at least a signal +example of domestic generalship. + +We have advanced without a hitch to roast partridge, with sugared +cranberries, which our friend washes down with good red wine from the +Imperial Crimean estates. We get through a hard German-like apple-tart, +and reach the last item of cheese. + +When the mighty meal is over, we order tea, light cigarettes, and lean +back in the armchairs to chat and note how our neighbors are getting +through the time. + +At the far end of the room a Russian has joined the French lady and +her escort. They are celebrating some occasion that requires heaping +bumpers of champagne. The babble of their conversation is in the air. +It seems to refer to the comparative appreciation of histrionic talent +in Rouen and Vladivostok! + +Somebody is being treated to a dressing-down in the latest Parisian +argot. “Ces sont des betteraves là-bas!” one hears scornfully above the +murmurs. + +Across the way some Germans are engaged with beer-schooners. One of +them gets excited and brings his fist down upon the table. “Arbeit in +Sibirien nimmer geendet ist; they always want more advice about their +gas-plants.” + +In the lull that follows the explosion, a gentle English voice floats +past from the seat behind us. “And so I told him that the station had +nearly enough funds, but we needed workers, more workers.” It is the +English medical missionary on his way to Shanta-fu, discussing China +with the American mining-engineer, bound for Nerchinsk. + +The piano, under the corner ikon with its ever-burning lamp, tinkles +out suddenly, and a man’s voice starts up-- + + You can hear the girls declare, + He must be a millionaire. + +He misses a note every now and then, which does not embarrass him in +the least. Caroling gayly to his own accompaniment, he forges ahead. +The crowd in the armchairs around the room, consuming weak tea or +strong beer, and smoking, all join with an untroubled accord and +versatile accents, French, English, and Russian, in the blaring chorus, +“The man that broke the bank at Monte Carlo.” + +The train rocks faster on the falling grade; little by little the +mountains drop away; gradually the mighty forests become dwarfed into +scattered clumps of straggly birches, and the great trees dwindle into +bushes; lower and still lower fall the hills, until all is flat. As far +as the eye can see are the snow-covered wastes, treeless, houseless, +lifeless. The lowest foothills of the Urals have been passed. It is the +beginning of the great steppes. + +Slowly the daylight wanes. The gray darkness deepens steadily; it +seems to gather in over the gliding snow, and the peculiar gloom of a +Siberian winter’s night closes down. At each track-guard’s post flash +with vivid suddenness the little twinkling lanterns of the wardens of +the road. Involuntarily conversation becomes less animated and voices +are lowered; the spell of the sombreness is over all. + +Soon the electric lamps are lighted, and from brazen ikon and sparkling +glasses flash reflections of their glitter. Curtains are drawn, +which shut out the enshrouding blackness. The piano begins tinkling +again; the waiters come and go with tea and liqueurs; the babble of +conversation rises; and the idle laughter is heard anew. Darkness may +be ahead, behind, and beside, but within there is light--enjoy it. + +The train slows for a halt. Station-lamps shine mistily through the +brooding night. Lanterns bob to and fro on the platform as fur-capped +train-hands pass, tapping wheels and opening journal-boxes. At each +door a fire-tender is catching and stowing away the wood which a +peasant in padded sheepskins is tossing up from his hand-sled below. +It is Chelliabinsk, whose old importance as the clearing-house of the +convicts has been passed on to the new city of the railroad. Here the +just completed northern branch, linking Perm to Petersburg, meets the +old southern line from Samara and Moscow. + +A short stop and the train moves on again. The day is done and +gradually each saunters into his own warm compartment, which the width +of the Russian gauge makes as large as a real room. One can read at +the table by the window, under the electric drop-light, or, propped +in pillows, one can stretch out luxuriously on the easy couch that is +nightly manoeuvred into an upper and lower berth. Practically always +after crossing the Urals, the number of passengers has so thinned out +that each may have a stateroom to himself. + +Presently you push the bell labeled, “Konduktor.” A uniformed attendant +appears standing at the salute. “_Spate_” (sleep) is sufficient +direction. The sheets and pillows are dug out and the transformation of +the couch into a bed is effected. “_Spacoine notche_” (good-night) he +says, and you fall asleep to the rhythmic throb of the engine. + +During the following hours the train enters the Tobolsk Government, +the oldest province of Siberia, whose 439,859 square miles of area, +nearly four times as large as Prussia, extend roughly from the railroad +northward to the Arctic Ocean, and from the Urals eastward so as to +include the lower basin of the Ob-Irtish river system. This ancient +province has seen much of Siberia’s history, whose predominant features +have been two, growth and graft. + +[Illustration: BRIDGE OVER THE IRTISH] + +[Illustration: ALONG THE TRANS-SIBERIAN RAILWAY] + +Out of evil, somehow, in a marvelous way has been coming good. In the +earliest days, with what smug satisfaction did the Stroganovs find +that the native inhabitants would trade ermine for glass beads! Yet +the fruit of their sharp dealing and purchased protection and special +privilege was the expedition that won Sibir, founded Tobolsk, and +opened to Russia the way into northern Asia. The imperial commissioner +who came to Tobolsk shortly after Kutchum Khan’s overthrow, to collect +the yassak tribute of ten sable-skins for each married man and five for +each bachelor, was detected culling the choice skins for himself, and +substituting cheap ones for his master. But his agents had sought out +the paths and extended the Russian Empire far into the northern forests. + +By despotic oppression the inhabitants of Uglitch town, condemned for +testifying to the murder of Dimitri, the Czarevitch, came here into +exile in 1593, carrying with them the tocsin-bell that had tolled alarm +when the Czar wished silence. But they, together with the deported +laborers settled by the same arbitrary will along the Tobol River, +started the permanent settlement of the new realm. + +A succeeding functionary called on the natives for a special tribute +of ermine for the Czarina’s mantle. He collected so many bales of it +that the taxed began to wonder at the stature of the “Little Mother,” +and sent a special deputy to Petersburg. The legate discovered that the +Empress was as other women, and on his disclosures the official was +unable to save his own, let alone the ermines’ skins. Yet while the +governor was plundering the fur-merchants of Tobolsk, the frontiers +were extending, until by 1700 they reached eastward to Kamchatka and +Lake Baikal, southeast to the Altai foothills at Kuznetz, and north to +the Arctic Ocean. + +At Tobolsk in 1710 Peter the Great established the capital of his +reorganized province of Siberia. Prince Gagarin, whom he appointed +its first governor, found here a systemless extortion unworthy of an +efficient statesman. With the thoroughness of genius he built up in +the unhappy province a regular organization of rascality. His pickets +patrolled the roads into Russia, to prevent the escape of those who +might carry the tale of his oppression. He arranged with high officials +at Court that any petitioners who evaded this frontier net should be +handed over to an appropriate committee. Thus fortified, he began +collections of as much as could be wrung from his luckless subjects. +Every traveler paid Gagarin’s tariff, every farmer sent him presents of +stock, every trapper forwarded the best of his catch. The fur-trader’s +donations and the merchants’ loans were assisted into Gagarin’s +warehouses by thumbscrew and thonged knout. + +While these things passed in Tobolsk there came periodically to +Petersburg delegations of outwardly contented citizens attesting the +wisdom of their governor. They brought to the Czar and the Grand +Dukes, in addition to the punctiliously rendered tax yassak, gifts of +especially fine furs. Such was the completeness of Gagarin’s control +that not an echo of the true state of affairs reached the ears of the +astute Peter. + +At length, in 1719, Nesterov, the Minister of Finance, was privately +approached by some Tobolsk merchants and was supplied with evidence +sufficient to hang half the officials in Siberia. In a dramatic +presentation the Minister furnished this to the Imperial Senate, +showing so bad a case that Gagarin’s own agents in the ducal circle +rose up against him. The Czar sent Licharev, a major of the Guard, +to Siberia, to proclaim in every town and hamlet that Gagarin was a +criminal in the eyes of the Emperor. As this messenger approached +Tobolsk, official after official came out to turn state’s evidence, +trying to assure his personal safety. The highways to Russia were +guarded by Peter’s own troops, with orders to seize all outgoing +travelers who might be transporting Gagarin’s accumulated spoil, which +with commendable prudence the Czar had allocated to himself. + +When Peter was in England he had remarked casually to an acquaintance, +“In my realm I have only two lawyers, and one of these I intend to +hang as soon as I get back.” It was particularly unfortunate for +this ex-governor that the remainder of the legal profession did not +feel himself called upon to explain to Peter the Gagarin campaign +contributions. No one ever needed an attorney more. He was under trial +before an imperial judge who did not know a technicality from a tort, +and whose preliminary procedure was to order a reliable gallows. + +For some score of years subsequent to Gagarin, the governors of Siberia +were, in any event, moderate. The province grew apace, increased by +exiles, by land-seeking colonists, by raskalniks,--nonconformists of +the Greek Church, self-called “Old Believers,”--who preferred to come +to Siberia rather than follow Peter’s orders and shave off their beards. + +Then Chicherin the Magnificent came. His life was a round of +celebrations. Wonderful stews he concocted for his sybaritic revels. +At _obeid_ an orchestra of thirty pieces supplied the music. Artillery +in front of the residency saluted him with salvos when he drove out. +In Butter-Week all Tobolsk drank the spirits which their governor +bountifully provided. It is hardly necessary to say that the money for +these entertainments did not come from Chicherin’s private purse: the +city merchants groaned over forced loans and benevolences; and at last +their cry reached the throne, and Chicherin too was removed. + +With his passing, the Tobolsk Province fell to less spectacular +rulers, but under good and bad it grew steadily, until in 1860 there +were a million inhabitants within its borders, a population which +at the present time has risen to a million and a half. Some forty +thousand of these are exiles; some eighty thousand raskalniks; and +forty thousand Tatars, who feed the flocks where their ancestors once +bore sway, living peacefully side by side with the Russians. Some +fifteen thousand are descendants of the Samoieds and Voguls with whom +the first Stroganov from the adjoining Russian province of Archangel +traded his wares. Some twenty thousand are Ostiaks whose forebears were +alternately allies and enemies of Yermak. + +The capital city, Tobolsk, on the Tobol River hard-by its junction with +the Irtish, has grown from a precariously held camp of two hundred and +fifty fugitive Cossack soldiers to a city of thirty thousand. Tiumen, +the easterly city on the Tura River, another of Yermak’s camps, has +grown into a great distributing-centre for produce brought by the +river-highways. From the railway line northward as far as the city of +Tobolsk extends a farm-belt, a continuation of the black-earth region +of great Russia. The fertility of the land may be judged by the number +of villages met as the train speeds on, and the large proportion +of enclosed fields on both sides of the track. Some of the finest +agricultural soil in the world lies here, such soil as composes the +prairies of Minnesota and Dakota. Three million head of live stock +graze in the district, which has a yearly production of ten million +hundredweight of wheat alone, four million of rye, and nine million of +oats. Five million more settlers may live and thrive, and the harvest +will feed the ever-growing cities of Europe when Siberia comes to be +the new granary of the old world. The stress and turmoil of Tobolsk are +passed. Happy the people who have no annals! + +Gradually, as the train rolls eastward beyond the Ishim River Valley, +the farm country opens out into the unfenced prairie of the Great +Steppe. The clustered wooden villages that flanked the line through +Tobolsk appear less and less frequently, till at last we seem to glide +over an immense white sea, frozen into perpetual calm and silence. Here +and there a gray thicket of stunted trees and bushes, here and there a +grove of naked-limbed birches, mutely exhibit Nature’s desolation. + +As the sullen landscape bares itself, one thinks of the prison +caravans tramping these wastes; of the early neglected garrisons which +Elizabeth’s favorite General Kinderman proposed to victual on crushed +birch-bark and relieve the Crown of their expense; of all the misery +and the wrong that the steppes of Siberia have symbolized. No sign +of man’s handiwork or of Nature’s kindliness is seen,--only the cold +snow and the bare birches, while regularly as the ticking of a clock +the telegraph-poles and the verst-spaced stations snap back into the +wastes. The dominant reflection is not, how great is the achievement +which has mastered these steppes! but, how infinitesimal is all that +man has done in this ocean of untrodden snow! Hour after hour we are +driving on. Yet never is there passed a landmark to conjure into +imagination a picture of progress. One moves as in a nightmare, where +he runs for seeming ages, hunted forward, yet can never stir from the +spot. The horizon-bounded circle of vision is as the ever-receding +rim of a giant dome, the rails ahead and behind bisecting its white +immensity. Above, the vast bowl of the blue sky dips and meets it, +imprisoning us. Where are the fields and villages; the bustling +activity of human life that tells of man’s mastership? Hour after +hour passes without a change in the drear monotony of the landscape; +for miles on miles not a trace is seen of human dominion. Grim Nature +spreading her shroud over plain and pasture is despot here, and Winter +is ruler of the Siberian Steppe. + +One could ride due south a thousand versts, through Golodnia the +“hunger steppe” to the borders of Turkestan, and find the same +monotonous plain, snow-covered save where the dryness of the south +has thinned its fall. One could ride from the Caspian Sea due east +to China, with each day’s march a counterpart of the rest. Five +hundred thousand square miles of area are covered with grass and +gaudy flowers in the spring, with low brush and green reeds where +the salt swamp-lakes receive the tribute of snow-fed streams. In +midsummer the growing grass scorches under a heat of 104°. In winter +snow is everywhere,--in feathery flakes that the midday sun does not +soften during whole months of a cold which is a ferocity. Thirty to +forty degrees below zero is not unusual, and the land is swept by +bitter winds that pierce like daggers through doubled furs and felts. +Yet there dwell on the central plateau of Asia a million people, +and one million cattle and three million sheep are scattered over +the tremendous range. As the herds have become hardened through the +centuries and survive in measure despite the severity, so also have +the men. From the train-windows now one may chance to see infrequent +straggling herds of long-horned cattle, lean and gaunt, scratching away +the snow in search of food. Mounted on little shaggy ponies are figures +buried in skins, who keep guard over them. + +One detects a new type among the crowds at the stations,--flat faces, +round eyes, square thickset bodies. Here on the borderland, the old +race has fused with the Slav and has become metamorphosed. The sons +of the Tatars, whose very name was distorted into that of a dweller +in Tartarus by those who feared their fierce valor, have become +shopkeepers, train-hands, waiters, and butchers, who come to sell meat +and milk to the chef of the wagon restoran. Sometimes, at the stops, +figures, gnome-like in enveloping red capote and grotesquely padded +furs, hold their ponies with jealous rein, staring curiously at the +locomotive and passengers. + +[Illustration: DINING-CAR SALOON, VIEW OF THE LIBRARY] + +Looking long from the windows at this steppe, a drowsy hypnotism steals +over the mind--a dull stupor of unbroken monotony. It is better to do +as the Russians--pay no attention whatever to the landscape outside, +but make the most of the life within the moving caravansary,--cards and +cigarettes and liqueurs, tea and endless talk, with yarns that take +days for the spinning. + +The uniformed judge, passing by, joins you. He is traveling to a +new appointment with his swarming family of children, shawl-decked +females of unknown quality and quantity, the household bedding, and +the ancestral samovar, all crowded into one stifling compartment. He +discusses volubly the confusions of the Code, and propounds a unique +theory of his own as to Russian jurisprudence, to the effect that all +the best laws of other nations have been adopted, with none of the old +or conflicting enactments repealed. The general drops into the circle. +He is interesting when one has pierced the crust, but dogmatic. At +every station the soldiers of the garrison, not on sentry-duty, jump to +one side, swing half-around, and stand at the salute until he passes, +to the huge inconvenience of the porters. He would undoubtedly vote the +Democratic ticket to repay Mr. Roosevelt for putting Russia under the +alternative of stopping the war perforce, or forfeiting sympathy, when +Japan was said to be breaking under the strain. + +“Russia was beaten this time. What of it? _Nietchevo!_” says the +general. + +“_Nietchevo_,” we echo, as we sip our tea. + +“But the Japanese are wily insects,” observes his companion, the young +service-medaled major. “I was in Vladivostok when our prisoners came +back. They tried to get money for the checks the Japanese had given +them. That was how the big mutiny began. You know, when our men were +taken captive, the Japanese treated them very well, much good food, +vodka, let them write home all about it, and gave them enormous pay, +six yen, three dollars a month, charging the expense all up to the Czar +for after the war. When at last the prisoners were to be released, the +Japanese promised every man double pay, twelve roubles. But they gave +them the money? No, the insects gave them each an order payable by the +Russian commander in Vladivostok. So the transports came, and these men +were sent ashore with these checks in their hands, and they went up to +the commandant of the city, and asked for their cash that the Japanese +had promised. What money did the commandant have for them? What could +he do? He ordered them to go away. So they stood and discussed on the +street-corners. And more men still came from the transports. Then they +said, ‘We will ask the general of the forts.’ So they marched to the +forts in a big crowd, and the general he also told them to go away. For +a long time they talked and they persuaded the sailors to help them. So +they went again to the forts, and the sailors shot at the forts, and +the general ordered the artillery to shoot. But the artillery would +not, so the men broke in and killed the officers and got arms and went +back to the city commander. Him, too, they killed, and all Vladivostok +was in mutiny for two weeks. Not an officer dared show himself. General +Orlov persuaded them to let him into the town. Then many were shot, but +at last the city was quiet. The Japanese are very sly insects.” + +His story ends and the two officers go back to join their families. The +train throbs on across the steppe. + +The German gas-plant drummer, with his new Far Eastern outfit, is +gathering from the missionary doctor details of treaty-port life, +which are being treasured up as valuable reference data. The French +fur-merchant dips back into his library copy of de Maupassant. + +The rigor of the outside scene seems at length to be changing. A few +scattered houses appear, and trees and fenced fields, and villages, +with curling smoke rising from the chimneys. Men and children are +walking about, and finally we come to the Irtish River, over which the +train rumbles on a half-mile bridge. Spires and gilt domes are visible, +dark wooden houses, and bright white-painted churches with green roofs. +Droshkies and carts are passing in the streets, and presently we draw +up to the station of Omsk, the second city of Siberia. + +The junction of the Trans-Siberian Railway with the Irtish River, which +is 2520 miles long and open from April to October, would of itself +make Omsk a centre of great strategic importance. But in addition to +this main river-highway, which is navigated by some hundred and fifty +steamers, there are affluents by which one can sail from the Urals +to the Altai, from the Arctic Ocean to China, and these lines of +communication centre here. + +From Omsk, following the Irtish down past Tobolsk, one can steam +by the Obi to Obdorsk, within the Arctic Circle. Indeed, a regular +grain-export service was planned via the Kara Sea to London by an +ambitious Englishman. It failed after some promise of success, because +of the ice-packs in the Gulf of Obi. From Omsk, following the Irtish +upstream, steamer navigation extends as far as Semipalatinsk, in the +Altai foothills. Smaller craft may go nearly to the Chinese frontier. + +By the Tobol and Tura rivers, Tiumen, in the Ural foothills, may be +reached, four hundred and twenty miles from Semipalatinsk. By ascending +the Obi, a boat may go fourteen hundred and eighty miles east from +Tiumen to Kuznetz on the Tom; through a canal from an Obi confluent the +Yenesei River System may be entered, and from it by a short portage the +Lena System. In all twenty-eight thousand miles are navigable by small +craft, and seven thousand miles by steamer. Omsk is the pulsing heart +of this mighty interior waterway system. + +[Illustration: TIUMEN TOMSK PERM CITIES OF NEW RUSSIA] + +The train leaves the station, which is at a distance from the town, and +once more we are en route. The eye rests gratefully upon the ribbon +of cultivated fields which follow the Irtish down. But we reënter the +steppe, and again the desolation settles over all. In hours of +looking, not a habitation is seen, not an animal, not a tree,--only +the same white billows. This Barbara district in the Tomsk Government +has an area of fifty thousand square miles. Kainsk, some seven hundred +versts from Chelliabinsk, is the centre. The section, though covered +with the fertile black earth of the adjoining regions, is, owing to +lack of drainage and adequate rainfall, arid and almost untilled. + +The round-faced civilian from the compartment further up, whose +familiarity with the country has made him a welcome accession, joins us +at the window. He looks out over the level plain of the Barbara Steppe +with manifest satisfaction. + +“You admire the landscape?” we ask satirically. + +He smiles. “We got big money when the line went through here. I made my +first fortune then.” + +He sighs at the memory of old times, and tells of the railway-building +days when the Czar had given the order for a road across the continent, +and the soldiers of fortune, of whom he was one, had gathered to the +task. + +“Not a kopeck had I when the Dreyfus brothers made their big +speculation in Argentine wheat and went down, leaving us young clerks +stranded in Kiev. You know Kiev? Great pilgrimages come there to see +the bodies of Joseph and his brethren, all preserved just as when they +died. We heard by accident of a grading job under a big contractor out +here. None of us knew anything about construction, but three of us +grain-clerks wrote a letter saying we would put the work through, and +started. We had just enough money to get to Samara. In Samara was a +merchant much esteemed, whom I went to see. He went on our bond, never +having seen us before, and gave us enough money to come. So it was in +the old days. The country was flat as a board. We had but to lay down +the ties and spike the rails. Thirty versts we made of this line. It +cost us thirty thousand roubles a verst, but we got fifty thousand. +Would that we might do that now again.” + +The contractor, his round jolly face glowing with the recital and his +eyes shining through gold-rimmed glasses, is entertaining a growing +company, for the judge has stopped to gossip, and the railroad official. + +“I took my money and bought an estate in the country of the Don +Cossacks,” the contractor is saying. “I paid ten per cent to the +Government for taxes when I bought the land. I had to pay no more taxes +then all my life, but my heir would pay taxes, or, if I sold, he who +bought would pay. So it was done in the Hataman Government.” + +“It is just,” says the judge. “Why should they, who get the property, +not pay taxes?” + +The contractor shrugs his shoulder and continues: “For five years +I farmed, and though I had a German overseer, I did not prosper. +So I went to one of the cities of Russia and thought to put in a +tramway. The men of the city said, ‘Are all the horses dead? He of the +spectacles is mad.’ Yet by importunity I got them to give me the right +to make a tramway. There were in Petersburg then many Belgians, with +much money, wishing to give it away. So I went to them and said, ‘Here +is a great franchise, but who will build the line and gain the riches?’ + +“‘We will, we will,’ said the Belgians. + +“From them I got a hundred and eighty thousand roubles clear, and an +interest. I sold the interest quickly to other foreigners, Frenchmen, +and went away. Yes, the tramway was built, and the people crowded to +ride on it as I had said. But when it was going well, and the profits +were yet to come, the people said, ‘Shall foreigners oppress our city?’ +So the town bought the tramways for what they said was the cost, and +the Belgians went away. And they did not come back to Russia. Thus were +many railways and tramways built and taken. The foreigners will not +come back now, and Russians too do not enter these pursuits, lest the +Government come after them later. It is _hudoo_ (bad).” + +“But is it not worse that these men should make a tramway and draw vast +money from the people?” says the railroad official. “For me, I think +the Government should do it all.” + +“_Ni snaia_, I don’t know,” says the contractor. “But I who bought +stocks with the Belgians’ money (foolishly thinking that the business +which I knew not was safe, while that which I knew was shaky), I will +not give again to the stock-people the money I shall make from the +oil-fields of Sakhalin, where I go now.” + +“But,” says the railway chinovnik, “does not the State do these things +better? Look you at this very railway. For years any who wished might +have built into Siberia. An Amerikanski, and Collins, an Angleski, came +proposing railroads, but all things slumbered. Then in 1891 the Czar +ordered the road to be built, and in ten years we had laid the eight +thousand versts to Vladivostok. I read that the line of Canada, where +too there are steppes and highlands as ours, took ten years for but +half the distance. We made two versts a day for all the years, and they +but one. Who other than the Government could spend a billion roubles +for a line that will bring money returns only in the far future?” + +“Ah, you chinovniks, you say, lo, we do all this! But it was such as +I built that road, and because you gave us big money. And is not the +money to support it now got from the peasants’ taxes while so many +clerks and operators waste time in the offices? I have seen a third +as many men as at Omsk do the same work. And your trains go as the +water-snails, twelve versts an hour for freight, twenty versts an hour +for the mail-trains, thirty-five versts for the express. One can go +eighty versts in Europe.” + +“Truly, truly, but why go so fast? It costs more for fuel, and the +track has to be made straight. What good does it do you to come in +sooner? If a man is in a hurry to get somewhere, can he not take an +earlier train?” + +The group mulls over this knotty point of logic, which is complicated +by the fact that our own train is twelve hours late. They cite +hypothetical men with varying sorts of engagements, and then lightly +switch to talk of the nourishing properties of beer, the utility of +agricultural machinery, and the old tiger battue of Vladivostok. + +The birch groves become more frequent now, pines begin to appear, and +at last the country has become forested. Several of the passengers +bestir themselves for departure, gathering multitudinous bundles, and +making the circuit in demonstrative hand-shaking farewells. + +“We come to Taiga, whence they go to the stingy town of Tomsk,” the +government engineer observes. + +“Why do you call it the stingy town of Tomsk?” + +“I will tell you. Tomsk, before the railroad came, was the biggest, +finest, and wealthiest of our cities. She was the capital of the +great Tomsk Gobernia, with three hundred and thirty thousand square +miles of area, and a million and a half people. The Tom brought the +big river steamers to her wharves. In the city she had sixty thousand +inhabitants, increasing every year; a university, Stroganov’s Library, +a cathedral, fine public buildings. The merchants were rich; the miners +came down from the Altai; all things were prospering. When the railway +was ordered, the engineers came through to locate the line. All they +asked was a hundred thousand roubles. But how stingy were the people of +Tomsk! They had given two million roubles for their university, where +the students made speeches and got sent to the Yakutski Oblast, yet +they would not give a hundred thousand roubles to the engineers. ‘Give +fifty, give even forty thousand,’ said the engineers. But the people of +Tomsk said, ‘Are we not the seat of government for all western Siberia? +Have we not Yermak’s banner in the cathedral? Are we not Tomsk? You +must bring the railway here anyway.’ But if the engineers had done +that, who could say where it would have ended? All the other cities +would begin to make excuses. So the grades to Tomsk became suddenly so +bad that the line had to be run away south here, eighty-two versts. The +station where one changes was named, in mockery, Taiga, ‘in the woods.’ +The merchants flocked out begging the engineers to come back to Tomsk. +They offered all that had been asked and much more. They hung around +the office and wept over the blue-prints. But how can a professional +man change his plans and sacrifice his reputation? One cannot do such +things. So Tomsk was left, and her trade now falls far behind that of +the other cities, Omsk and Irkutsk. We in Siberia smile at her and call +her the stingy city of Tomsk.” + +“We have, too, another jest, of the Tomsk Czar,” chimes in the judge. +“There appeared one day there a stranger calling himself Theodore +Kuzmilch, who bought a little house which he never left save to do +some act of charity. For years he lived; then, when he died, the house +was turned into a chapel because of his good deeds. Many years after +his death, a merchant started the tale that this was the Czar Alexander +I, who did not die in the Crimea, but left a false body to be carried +to Petersburg and entombed in state. He had, it was told, not really +died, and, disappointed at his powerlessness to help his people, had +come, self-exiled, to Siberia. But we others laugh at this tale of +Tomsk as an imperial residence.” + +The twenty minutes’ stop at Taiga ends, and the train renews its +journey through the forests. + +With rolling hill and long-stretching forests, the watershed bounding +the eastern limits of the Obi Basin is crossed near Achinsk, and the +drainage-basin of the mighty Yenesei River, one million three hundred +and eighty thousand square miles in area, is entered. It just fails +to equal in length the Mississippi-Missouri System. Including the +administrative territory “Yeneseik” of the East Siberian Gobernia, +the river sweeps from the Chinese borderland north beyond the Arctic +Circle. In the far south, where it rises among the Minusink Mountains, +the valley country is like the Italian Alps, mild and very fertile. +Iron-mines of prehistoric antiquity are found in these valleys, relics +of the old Han Dynasty of China. + +Of the twenty million bushels of grain produced throughout the +Yeneseik territory, nearly a third comes from the Minusink oasis. The +railroad pierces the central plains, farmed in the most favorable spots +only, and capable of enormously extended cultivation. + +Through alternating forest, field, and plain the train moves on, and +crossing the three thousand-foot Yenesei bridge, enters the city of +Krasnoyarsk. When we pull out, the engineer, who has been chatting with +the erstwhile contractor, observes, “This town was a main hotbed of the +great strike. They are well in hand now, but we had our time with them +in 1905. Even I knew nothing of what had been prepared.” + +He goes on to tell the most curious tale of the organized strike +movement which introduced the disturbances subsequent to the +Russo-Japanese War. + +“On September 15 at noon, no one knows by whom or from what station, +a signal of dots and dashes was tapped off. Each telegraph-operator +answered the message and passed the word to the next, standing by until +it was repeated back. Then, leaving all things in order, he stepped +from the operating-room into the railway-station. With a motion he +gave the countersign to the ticket-sellers, and each, as he received +it, shut his desk, and walked out. The word went to the engineers, and +each, at the signal, drew his fires and left the engine and its train +forsaken on its tracks. Every postman put away his mail, closed the +safe, and left his office; every diligence-agent locked his doors. From +Astrakan to Archangel, from Warsaw to Vladivostok, the electric summons +went, and the whole realm of Russia was paralyzed. + +“With two thousand roubles, offered by the Governor-General of Poland, +before them, and ten bayonets on the tender behind, an engineer and a +fireman were secured to run one coach, containing a terrified prince, +from Warsaw to the frontier. In the south, a few cars were started by +soldiers, but beyond such rare instances, for three weeks not a train +was moved. More than this, not a telegram was transmitted, not a letter +delivered. Everywhere was black silence, as if all the Russias had been +swept from the face of the world. + +“‘More wages, and the constitution,’ was the slogan of the strikers. +The official cohorts met the issue courageously, with bribes and +bayonets, and little by little got the upper hand. Force and money were +used unstintingly to win the operators needed and break the front of +the strike. A few, who, contrary to the expectations of their mates, +had remained loyal to the officials, were finally secured and protected +by the soldiery. As in time one train after another was manned and +moved, the men who had stayed away lost heart, knowing but too well +what would be the fate of those who were left outside the breastworks. +First singly, then in crowds, they returned, and the great strike was +broken.” + +“Here in Krasnoyarsk there was revolutionist rule for a while as well,” +the manager remarks. “The troops were driven out, and we had to wait +for reinforcements. Yet when I came to my office there were sixty +thousand roubles in the safe, not a kopeck of which had been touched. +Some of the best employees were condemned. I was very sad, and the +service was very poor when they marched away.” + +“What became of them?” we ask. + +In a low voice he answers, “They went to the Yakutsk.” + +Everybody is silent for a moment. + +“Where did you say?” inquires the missionary. + +“The Yakutski Oblast,” answered the chinovnik. + +In Europe people talk of the rigors of Russia’s winter. In Russia +of the cold of Siberia. In Siberia, along the railway, when the +thermometer gets down into the forties and the sentries pick up +sparrows too numb to fly, they say, “It’s as cold as the Yakutsk.” + +“One starts to the Yakutsk by the steamer-towed prison barge, following +down the Yenesei from Krasnoyarsk,” the engineer continues. “For the +first thousand versts northward the way is through a mighty forest +region. The interior is almost as unknown as when the Samoieds were +its sole inhabitants. Marshes covered with trembling soil, to be +crossed only on snowshoes, alternate with thickets, called _urmans_, of +larches, cedars, firs, pines, and beeches.” + +“It is not alluring,” we observe. + +“The cold of the winter seems largely to arrest decay, and the fallen +trees, remaining unrotted, form a nature-made _cheval de frise_, +impossible to traverse save along the hunters’ trails. Another thousand +versts up the Upper Tunguska River, at whose limit of navigation is +a crossing into the Lena System, and the Yakutsk Province begins; +eastward to the coastal range overlooking Behring Sea, and northward +to the Arctic Ocean, a million and a half square miles of desolation, +extends this exiles’ oblast. Prison-stations are located in the +forsaken tundra country beyond the Arctic Circle, where scattered +clumps of creeping birches and dwarf willows struggle to maintain +existence in the few unfrozen upper inches of ground, congealed +perpetually beneath to unmeasured depths. Here, where the average +winter temperature is eighty below zero, come the exiles deemed most +formidable.” + +“How long do men last in the Yakutski cold?” we ask the engineer. + +“Oh, sometimes a strong man will outlive his sentence and return. The +friends of our strikers ask me sometimes about one or another, but we +have heard nothing of them since they marched away in chains. May fate +keep us from that road!” + +The theme is not enlivening, and soon we go forward into the +observation-car. + +After crossing the Kan River at Kansk, the railroad turns abruptly +southwest, through the hilly country of the Irkutsk Gobernia, and +climbing into the highlands of the Altai, enters the watershed of the +Angara. The drainage-basin of this river equals the combined areas of +Iowa, Illinois, Indiana, Ohio, Pennsylvania, and New York. It is as +well adapted to agriculture as parts of the best provinces of Central +Russia in the same latitude. + +The train pulls next into the station of Nishneudinsk. A booted +peddler is making his way down the platform, with knives, combs, caps, +and cheap knick-knacks. He stops to show us something special, a +miniature of multicolored minerals, glittering from a hundred crystal +facets. The Russian engineer picks out the flaky quartz, the iron +pyrites,--“fools’ gold,” as they called it in old Nevada times,--green +porphyry, iridescent peacock ore of copper, and some black crystals +like antimony, which show here and there. Malachite, serpentine, topaz, +and numberless other minerals are in the mass, which glitters in +kaleidoscopic changes. A small piece of gold ore tops the pile. + +“Cabinetski?” asks the engineer. + +“Da, da,” assents the peddler. “Cabinetski.” + +“It comes from one of the domains of his Imperial Majesty’s Cabinet,” +explains the engineer. “Stretches of forest, belts of fertile river +valley, fur districts, hundreds of thousands of square versts, the +best mines in these Urals which produce sometimes yearly seven million +roubles, the entire Nerchinsk region, producing six million roubles, +are ‘cabinetski,’” he remarks. “Even I, Ivan Vasilovich Poyarkov, am +‘cabinetski’!” + +He explains the origin of the term, going back to the old days when +princedoms went to the courtiers of Catherine. Always for a great +enterprise it was necessary to have a friend at Court. So the rich +merchants and miners would form, with powerful members of the inner +circle at St. Petersburg, alliances such as that made by the Stroganovs +with Boris. Gradually, as time went on, the protected were swallowed +by the protectors, until one by one the various estates had passed +into the hands of the nobles of the Imperial Court. The mines in the +Altai, which Demidov had opened up, were taken over in 1747 by the +Emperor, those in the Zabaikalskaia Oblast at about the same time. With +the passing of the years, what had been graft and expropriation was +transmuted into vested interest, until now it is the established right +of the Imperial Cabinet, or the Grand Dukes, to receive the revenues +of these vast domains. In the mining regions their perquisite is from +five to fifteen per cent. Save for the tax, however, miners are free to +operate upon the ducal estates, and many are thus engaged. + +A fur-capped station-agent clangs the big bronze bell, waits a moment, +and then clangs twice. The passengers climb back into the box-like +steel cars of the express. The third bell sounds, and the train starts. +We sit down beside the engineer and the conversation takes up the +“cabinetski” again. + +“We have great traditions. One Governor, Neryschkin, of the +‘cabinetski’ mines at Nerchinsk, marched to fight the Czar. In 1775 he +was appointed chief of the mineral belt in the Zabaikalskaia Oblast. +He sat for eleven months at home with closed shutters. Then, on Easter +Sunday, singing a devil’s hymn, and with a fat female on either side, +he drove to church and ordered the service amended to suit a rather +bizarre taste. He organized a series of glittering shows at the Crown’s +cost, gave free drink to the populace, and throwing out many of his +subordinates, appointed convicts in their stead. When he had used up +all the tax-money in his keeping, he drew up cannon before the house +of the rich merchant Sibirayakov, the operator of the mines, and made +him hand out five thousand roubles. Finally he got together an army of +Tunguses and the peasants, to march against the Czar. He was caught on +the way and sent to Russia for punishment. It is the great honor of our +service to be governor over the ‘cabinetski’ mines. Perhaps I shall +rise there some day. Perhaps not. But I shall not march against the +Czar.” + +The forests of birch and pine and fir, and the hills, as the car drives +eastward, close in again. The crests of mid-Siberian mountains lift +their snowy heads, and the train climbs up and up toward the great +central Lake Baikal, and the city of Irkutsk, 3378 miles from Moscow, +and further east than Mandalay. + +When, on this seventh day, the train is winding up the Angara Valley +toward Irkutsk, one may mentally look back over the country that has +been traversed and estimate somewhat the meaning of the railway. The +Urals formed the first landmark. As in the dominion of the blind the +one-eyed man is king, so after the monotony of the plains, the Ural +Mountains seem great and worthy of the name given by the old Muscovite +geographer, the “Girdle of the World.” By actual measurements, however, +in their seventeen hundred miles of length, no peak rises over six +thousand feet. Coming eastward from the Urals the line has cut through +the southwestern corner of the old Tobolsk Government, has skirted +the northern border of the steppe, has bisected the Tomsk Province, +and after crossing the Yenesei River in Yeneseik has entered Irkutsk +Province, and traversed the central highland region nearly to Lake +Baikal. + +Many who journey this way will have as their first impression, when the +long winter ride draws to its close, a feeling of depression, almost +of discouragement, so few are the settlements, so desolate seems all +Nature. They see the single line of rails, without a branch or feeder +in the mighty expanse from Chelliabinsk to Irkutsk, save for the stub +put in for the ungenerous outlanders of unlucky Tomsk. They calculate +that for a territory forty times the size of the British Isles, and +one and a half times as large as all Europe, the inadequacy of a +railroad less in total mileage than the Chicago, Milwaukee and St. +Paul, is manifest. Statistically-informed bankers sometimes shrug their +shoulders at the mention of the Trans-Siberian. “Every year a deficit,” +they say. “Gross earnings but twenty-four million roubles,--one sixth +of the Canadian Pacific Railway; one tenth of the Southern Railway. +_Hudoo_ (bad)!” One hears expressed not infrequently in Russia the +opinion that the railway is a sacrifice justified politically by +Russia’s need for a link to the Pacific, but ineffectual to secure +prosperity and advancement to the isolated land of mid-Siberia. It +is deemed, like the Pyramids, a monument to colossal effort and +achievement but of little service to mankind. + +Their statistics are correct. But it is to the greater honor of the +road that much which it has accomplished will never appear in credits +on the account-sheets. Where the white stations of the Siberian +Railway stand now were once the wooden prison-pens with their guarded +stockades. Murderers and priests, forgers, profligates, and university +professors, highway robbers and privy councilors, all together have +tramped this way. It is its past from which the railroad has raised +Siberia, the past of neglect and exile that this steam civilizer has +banished to the far Yakutsk. + +Closer study gives, too, a better appreciation of the railroad’s +economic significance. The line holds a strategic position as truly as +does the Panama Canal. Though in Siberia proper there is the enormous +area of nearly five million square miles, so much of this is in Arctic +tundra, impassable swamp, forest, or barren steppe, that the really +habitable and arable land narrows down to a tenth of this, which lies +in general between the parallels of 55° and 58° 30’ north, and is +contained within a belt some thirty-five hundred miles long and two +hundred to two hundred and fifty miles broad. + +When it is noted that the tillable area of one hundred and ninety-two +thousand square miles in Tobolsk and Tomsk, mostly along the Obi +System, the stretch of twenty thousand miles in the steppe, and that of +one hundred thousand in the Yeneseik and Irkutsk governments of eastern +Siberia, are all in immediate proximity to the railroad, whose course +is generally along the 55th parallel, the economic value of Russia’s +great enterprise takes a different perspective. + +Its vantage is still more emphasized when the element of the north and +south watercourses is considered. One after another the great Siberian +rivers are crossed,--in the Tobolsk Gobernia, the Tobol, the Ishim, +the Irtish; in the Tomsk Gobernia, the Obi and the Tom; in Yeneseik, +the Yenesei; in Irkutsk, the Angara. Each of these reaches far up into +the agricultural zone that lies north of the railroad, bringing the +harvests to its cars by the cheap unfettered water-avenues. Thus, to +the part of Siberia that is capable of extensive development, the +railroad is even now in a position to give great aid. + +It is from such natural factors as these, not from financiers’ figures, +that one must weigh the potentiality of this great line. Its direct +value is enormous, its indirect commercial services greater yet. +It may best be compared to a mighty river system such as that of +the Mississippi. The latter’s traffic has never directly returned a +dollar of the millions that have gone to maintaining its levees and +training-walls and channels. Yet indirectly the return and the value, +as an asset to the American people, are so great as to be incalculable. +From its controlling position in relation to the cultivatable land and +the interior watercourses of Central Siberia, as well as in relation +to the far eastern artery, the Russian railway is an empire-builder as +important as has been the Nile. + +The results already achieved are noteworthy. The city of Omsk, where +the railroad and the Irtish River lines meet, has risen from a +population of thirty-seven thousand in 1897 to seventy thousand in +1908. Further east, Stretensk has sprung from a town of two thousand +people ten years ago to over twelve thousand to-day. Irkutsk has +climbed from sixty to over eighty thousand since the railroad opened. + +[Illustration: ISLAND OF KALTIGEI VILLAGE OF LISTVIANITCHNOE LAKE +BAIKAL] + +The rural population has increased even as that of the cities. At the +beginning of the seventeenth century, all Siberia contained but two +hundred and thirty thousand souls; at the end of the eighteenth, +one million five hundred thousand; at the end of the nineteenth, five +million. Now, with the railroad-induced immigration, it approaches the +seven million mark. The Steppe Government alone has risen in fifty +years from five hundred thousand to one million five hundred thousand, +and the Tomsk from seven hundred thousand to two million five hundred +thousand. + +More in importance than its present utility is the fact that the +railway holds the key to Siberia’s future. The arable territory of +the belt is equal to that of Michigan, Wisconsin, Minnesota, Ohio, +Indiana, Illinois, Iowa, Missouri, Kansas, Nebraska, and the Dakotas +combined. This land is generally well-watered, in a climate suitable +to grain-raising, and it is, as has been shown, in its whole extent, +adjacent to river and rail transportation. + +While such farming districts of the United States have some fifty +inhabitants to the square mile, the most densely populated gobernia, +Tomsk, has but six, and the Yeneseik but six tenths of one. + +An immense further area will yield to clearing and to irrigation, as +has been demonstrated in the great results secured from five hundred +versts of canals in the Barbara Steppe. Coal and iron are available in +many places, and timber in the greatest abundance grows in the northern +district. + +From a summary of these elements one may glean an idea of the Colossus +sleeping beneath these snows. At a normal rate of increase, fifty +million souls should populate Siberia at the close of the twentieth +century. The agency of their coming and existing will be primarily +the line of rails across the continent. Despite the eight hundred +million roubles expended, with only far-off hopes of profit, the faulty +road-bed, the light rails, the steep grades, and crawling trains, the +glory of Russia is still “The Great Siberian Railway.” + + + + +III + +IN IRKUTSK + + +The train pulls slowly up to the white station-house at Irkutsk. A +swarm of porters, _nasilchiks_, white-aproned, with peaked hats, and +big, numbered arm-tags, invade the carriage. They seize each piece +of luggage and run with it somewhere into the crowd outside. You, +encumbered with your heavy coat, laboriously follow. Irkutsk station, +more than any previous one, is crowded with passengers and Cossack +guards. Train officials are shouting instructions, and every few paces +a sentry is standing his silent watch. This is the transfer entrepôt +for all through traffic, as well as the depôt for the largest and most +important city of Siberia. + +Threading the press on the platform, you struggle with the outgoing +human current, and in time reach the big waiting-room of the first +class. It likewise is crowded with a mass of people, and its floor +is cumbered with heaping mounds of baggage. One of these hillocks is +constructed from your impedimenta, which are being guarded now by a +porter, apparently the residuary legatee of the half-dozen original +competitors within the car. The man takes the long document that +witnesses your claim to two trunks, and departs. Upon you in turn +devolves sentry duty for the interminable time during which those +trunks are being culled out from the baggage-car. + +It is an exasperating wait, but the fundamental rule for Russian +traveling is, “never separate from the baggage.” The parcel-room here +at Irkutsk held for six months a suit-case left by a friend to be sent +to this traveler. The officials would not give it up to its owner or +to any person save the forwarder, though he, oblivious to sequels, had +gone on to San Francisco. + +Like the rest, now, you camp, with the baggage in front of you, on the +waiting-room floor. It is a very country fair, this station. At the +far end is a big stand crowded with dishes, on which are cold meats, +potato salad, heaps of fruit and cakes, sections of fish from which one +may cut his own slices, boxes of chocolates, and cigarettes. All are +piled up in heaping profusion. One can get a glass of vodka and eat +of the _zakuska_ dishes free, or while waiting he may buy a meal of +surprisingly ample quantity and good quality at the long tables that +run down the centre of the room. Most of the Russians order a glass of +tea, and with it in hand sit down till such indefinite future time as +the luggage situation shall unroll itself. + +We move our baggage and join the tea caravan. Across the table is a +slight, brown-faced man, with an enormous black astrakan cape falling +to his ankles, and wearing a jauntily perched astrakan cap on his head. +“One of the Cossack settlers,” a friend from the train remarks. Beyond +are half a dozen tired-looking women, with dark-gray shawls over their +heads. Near them are men with close-fitting _shubas_, or snugly-belted +sheepskin coats, fur inside, and rough-tanned black leather outside. +Beside the lunch-stand are a couple of young men with huge bearskin +caps, short coats, and high leather boots tucked into fleece-lined +overshoes. + +A general at one of the little side tables is talking volubly to a +plump dame with furs, which are attracting envy from many sides. The +lady merely nods between puffs of her cigarette, and sips her tea. +A large fat merchant waddles past, wrapped in a paletot made of the +glistening silvery skin of the Baikal seal. The room is stifling, +full of smoke, and crowded with people. Yet no one seems to feel the +discomfort, even to the extent of taking off the heavy outer coats, +which, with the thermometer at twenty degrees below zero, they have +worn on the sleigh-ride in, from across the river. + +Your friends of the train, save those whose possessions were comprised +in their multitudinous valises, are all here, fur-coated likewise and +sipping tea, waiting, without a thought of impatience, for the baggage +to be brought out. + +At last appears your _nasilchik_. “They are got,” he cries, and +balances about himself, one by one, your half-dozen pieces of luggage. +Through the noisy, gesticulating, thronging passengers and heaped +belongings, he shoulders and squirms a way to the door and into the +anteroom. + +A couple of soldiers are good-naturedly hustling out, from the +third-class waiting-room opposite, a little leather-jacketed and very +dirty mujik. + +“I did not owe seven kopecks. I cross myself. I am not a Jew,” he +loudly proclaims. + +“_Nietchevo_,” says the soldier. “Out with him just the same!” The +peasants and crowd loafing alongside grin appreciatingly, as the mujik +is escorted, collar-held, through the great doors. + +The porter and yourself follow. A plunging line of sleighs, backed up +against the outer platform of the station, extends far up and down +the road. Their _isvoschiks_, leaning back, are shouting for fares. +In sight are your two trunks. “How much to the Métropole?” you call. +The legal fare across the river to the hotel is a rouble, but the +Governor-General of eastern Siberia couldn’t tell how much it would be +if you didn’t bargain beforehand. “_Piat rubla!_” “_tree rubla!_” come +hurtling from all sides. + +It is for you to walk down the line calling in the vernacular, “fifty, +seventy kopecks!” One of the drivers will eventually shout a fare which +you feel able to allow, and the porter, who has been watching the +bargaining process with keen interest, gives him the two trunks. The +_isvoschik_ retires then behind the stormy hiring-line, and you renew +the process for a second vehicle. The sleighs are just big enough for +one person to occupy comfortably. Two can squeeze in if they be thin +enough or economically minded. But a second sleigh is needed now for +the hand-baggage, and a third for one’s self. At length the arrangement +is completed. The porter bows low at the donation of fifty kopecks, +“for vodka”; then, “Go ahead! all ready!” you call, and with a flourish +the procession of sleighs dashes out of the station purlieus. + +The road to the town mounts first a low hill parallel to the river. +As the horses climb toward its crest the panorama of the city and +stream, hidden previously by the railroad structures, unrolls. Like a +great band of white, the frozen Angara sweeps to the left and right. +Beyond it stand out boldly the clustered domes of the cathedral, their +surmounting crucifixes glittering in the sunlight. At your feet are the +sections of the pontoon bridge, which in summer spans the river but in +autumn is disconnected, the parts being moored to the shore, lest the +drifting ice from partly frozen Baikal cut and destroy their woodwork. + +A dark streak crosses the frozen river, with dots moving, as small +apparently as running ants. The deceptive snow has made the distance +seem much less than it is in reality. The streak is a road, and the +seeming insects are the sleighs that pass and repass on the frozen +river-trail. Between scattered wooden houses our cavalcade rides down +to the bank, and at length onto the smooth white sheet. It is like +skating. The big horses on our sleigh are imported from Russia, and +trot splendidly, overtaking one after another of the citizens with +their little shaggy Siberian ponies. The heaped snow is on either side. +The cold air is bracing, almost welcome, until it begins to eat its way +in. + +It is a fair drive, this, across the river--a full verst to the +northern bank. We mount the incline that leads up the slope, and come +to the first log houses of the poorer quarter of Irkutsk town. Gaunt +dogs bark feebly, and slink away on either side. The street is almost +deserted; the houses give no sign of life. + +Suddenly we come into a square crowded with people, gay with life and +motion, and motley in colors. It fairly buzzes with talk and cries and +chaffering. Low-built booths face every side of the open _piazza_. We +catch a glimpse of one stocked with hardware. Opposite it stands a +little shrine within which are dimly visible pictured saints and the +Madonna, before which are scores of burning tapers. Our _isvoschik_ +takes off his hat as he drives past, and reverently makes the sign of +the cross. He crosses himself also as he passes the white church of +St. Nicholas with its green roofs and gilded crosses, and he removes +his cap to the long-haired and dark-robed pope that he meets, for the +Siberian pays much reverence to his Church. + +[Illustration: THE ANGARA RIVER THE CATHEDRAL IRKUTSK] + +The residences improve from the log cabins of the outskirts, and grow +into the two-storied whitewashed structures of the main thoroughfares. +The streets also have an interesting procession of people. The big +troika of some high official glides past, with coal-black horses and +a coachman padded out into a liveried Santa Claus, after the style of +St. Petersburg. Officers of the garrison sweep by in their light-gray +overcoats. Shoals of sleighs and sledges are going to and fro. At +almost every corner, armed with a sabre and revolver, stands a police +officer. + +As one drives along he reads the Russian letters on the placards and +the names on the stores. Many here are Hebrew, for the Siberians of the +cities are more tolerant than their European cousins. Irkutsk has a +very large and prosperous Jewish merchant community, and sent her Dr. +Mendelberg to the Duma. Irkutsk has had its representation cut down, +they say, _post hoc_,--perhaps _propter hoc_. + +The driver, who has kept his horses at a moderate trot from the +station through the town, suddenly cries out to them, and swings and +snaps his lash till they break into a gallop. “We always come in +handsomely,” says the city native who is with you, as the sleigh pulls +up triumphantly at the door of the Hôtel Métropole. + +A swarm of attendants greet you at the portal, a tall uniformed +concierge, half a dozen aproned porters, a waiter or two, a page, +and behind them the Hebraic Hazan, our host. Each porter seizes a +parcel and the concierge leaves his post by the front door to lead the +procession up the broad red-carpeted stairway. With a rattle of keys he +swings open the door to a salon big enough to give a ball in, and whose +ceiling is six good feet above one’s head. The average New York flat +would rattle around in it. The concierge advances to its centre and +bows. Then he goes on through to another room, almost its duplicate in +size, with a forlorn-looking washstand and a screen across one corner. + +“But the bedroom, where do we sleep?” you ask. + +“_Sdiece, gaspadine_,” he says, “right here”; and he conducts you to +the screen. + +Raised about eighteen inches above the floor is a little wooden +platform-like structure, about the size of a cigar-shop showcase. A +dingy mattress is rolled up at one end of it. As you ruefully feel +its straw texture and survey the planks which it is to cover, the +hotel-keeper pushes in to tell you that sheets will be put on at once +if the _gaspadine_ has not his own. “_Chass! Chass!_ If only the rooms +suit the _gaspadine_, everything will be arranged.” + +The porters silently deposit their loads and depart with their twenty +kopecks each. The manager goes out, doubtless to gather his sheets. +Only the concierge stays expectant after he has received his tribute. +You throw your heavy overcoat over one of the armchairs and begin to +open some of the bags. The concierge still stays and looks on. You +begin to segregate laundry, and locate brushes and tooth-powder. The +concierge still stays and looks on. You get out some slippers which are +an improvement upon the heavy snow-boots. The concierge still lingers. + +“The room is accepted,” you say finally. + +“Yes, yes,” he answers. “_Haracho_, but for the police, I want, please, +your passport.” + +To show your passport, true enough, is no more of an incident than to +take out your handkerchief. But to be obliged before you have been ten +minutes in a place to produce a paper for the police telling of your +age and infirmities, the color of your eyes, the number of your arms +and legs and children, seems tiresome. + +“Must all give in their passports?” you inquire. + +“All, all,” he answers. “I am punished if one person stays here +overnight without showing it.” + +He takes the document, visibly impressed with its flying eagle and the +big red seal, and bows his way out. + +Now one can stroll around one’s suite and take in some of the details. +There are electric lights with clusters of globes in the big pendant +electrolier of the parlor, and drop-lamps for the massive writing-desk +in the corner! The armchair by the high-silled window is a good place +to read in. Too bad one cannot look out on the shuttling sleighs of the +street below, but the cold has thickly frosted the double windows. Here +is a big sofa, plush-covered, and half a dozen armchairs surround the +polished table, whose top is scarred with a multitude of rings--from +the hot tea-glasses, one deduces. + +Mentioning tea, why not have some? There ought to be a bell somewhere. +Unfortunately there is not a bell. In looking for it one finds that +Siberian housekeeping does not include any dusting of the heavy +red hangings which flank the doors and windows. An imperious cry +resounds in the corridor. “_Chelaviek!_” It is followed by a patter +of footsteps. So this then is the custom of the country. You open the +door, and in the tone described in books upon elocution as “hortatory,” +cry out into the dim distances of the corridor, “_Samovar, chai!_” +Somewhere down the line a voice answers, “_Chass, chass!_” and you +retire to wait and hope. + +Curiously battered the furniture looks when you inspect it closely. +Here and there a flake is chipped away from the varnish, and cuts or +dents show in the paint. Have sabre fights, perhaps, taken place here, +or raids on assembling revolutionists? Certainly in the generations of +occupants, life has been, in some fashion, tumultuous. + +There is a fumbling at the door-knob, and, without any preliminary +knocking, a waiter comes in with a nickel samovar, an empty teapot, and +a glass. He puts them down on the battered table and walks out. The big +kettle hums away pleasantly as the red charcoal in its hollow interior +glows from the upward draft. The preparations seem all made, save for +the tea. Perhaps the _chelaviek_ has gone to get it. You let your eye +rove around to the little ikon far up in the corner, and the sleighing +and wolf-shooting etchings on the walls. But after a time this becomes +tiresome. Has the secret gendarmerie descended on the waiter among his +teapots and trays? Has he forgotten the matter entirely, or what? The +corridor-call seems to be the only recourse. Once again you go out. +“_Chelaviek!_” and from some region he comes trotting up. + +“Where is that tea?” + +“Oh, _chai_,” he says, illumined. “Has the _gaspadine_ not his own?” + +“Most decidedly the _gaspadine_ has not his own,” you retort. “The +_gaspadine_ does not carry pillow-shams or bales with him. He is not a +draper’s establishment or a grocer’s store.” + +“_Nietchevo_,” says the waiter, amiably; and runs off, to return with +a saucer of tea-leaves, and another containing half a dozen lumps of +sugar. + +“Your pardon, generally the _gaspadines_ have their own”; and he leaves +you to the brew and your meditations. + +Well, it is pleasant, after a long train-ride, to stretch out in a big, +if battered, armchair, and sip glasses of anything hot. The little +teapot, full of a very strong decoction, is perched on the top of the +samovar over its chimney. For a fresh glass you pour out a half-inch +of the strong essence, throw in the sugar, and from the samovar’s +spigot fill the glass with hot water. It is thus just the strength +you personally prefer, and always hot. The samovar, by a judicious +regulation of the draft, can be kept for hours exactly at the boil. It +is a fine institution, but cannot be transplanted to a country where +hot charcoal embers are not constantly available. + +Comfortably ensconced and sipping one’s tea, one can leisurely, Russian +fashion, think of the most amusing method of passing the time. It is +getting on toward evening; for the day fades early here. To-morrow is +soon enough to look at things and distribute letters of introduction. +The beverage has also blighted the appetite. Perhaps a light supper +and an early couch would be wise. The latter in the far room looks +singularly unpromising, but, “_Nietchevo!_” It is rather early for +dinner or supper, but what of that? As an elusive New York politician +used to say to each of the office-seekers who came to ask his influence +for nominations, “If you want it, there is no reason why you should not +have it.” We will try another summons of the waiter. + +Up he comes with the bill of fare printed in Russian and alleged French. + +Perhaps some eggs would be good. You decide upon them to begin with, +and you will have them poached. + +“_Gaspadine_,” he says, “the eggs to-day cannot be poached. Will you +not have an omelette instead?” + +On second thoughts we will not have eggs at all this time; we will have +a sterlet, a small steak, and a compote. He goes off to the nether +regions again. A long time passes, but at length he returns with the +sterlet, its chisel-shaped nose piercing its tail in true Siberian +style. White creamy butter and Franzoski kleb, white bread, round out +the course. The steak is excellent and the canned fruit is satisfying, +eaten beside the singing samovar in the great room of the main hotel of +Irkutsk. Half a dozen letters pass the next hours until it is time to +sleep. They are written on the big desk beneath the drop-light, with a +glass of tea at one’s elbow in warm cosy comfort. + +The place is rather warm, and without any apparent source of heat, for +there are no registers or gratings of obvious instrumentality. A search +of elimination, like the game in which one is warm, warmer, very hot, +leads at length to a rounded corner of porcelain built into the wall, +of which only a curved segment shows in an angle of the room. Further +inspection reveals that it is a big cylindrical stove fed by somebody +in the hallway, and so arranged as to warm two adjoining rooms. + +In mitigation of the fire-tender’s zeal, we decide to open a window. +Perhaps with an hydraulic jack this might be possible; but to manual +labor it is not. A single pane of the inner window, however, swings +back, and then we can open a similar pane in the outer window, leaving +a hole as big as the port of a ship. It is sufficient in this weather. +Some further corridor-shouting, produces, in due time, sheets and +blankets, and presently we lie down on the straw mattress in the little +wooden-bottomed box called a bed. “_Spacoine notche_,” the attendant +calls, and without trace of irony. + +It is one thing to go to bed, another to sleep. Tales are told of +powder-circled couches which the invaders, surmounting these ramparts +by climbing walls, dropped upon from above. There is a legend that +there are some people whom they do not bite. “_Nietchevo!_” Is it not +Irkutsk, the Paris of Siberia? Why then complain of parasites? + +Furthermore, a brass band has started up somewhere in the immediate +neighborhood the tune of _Viens poupoule!_ to which there echoes a +popular accompaniment of tapped glasses and stamping feet. Perhaps +one had better get up and see things after all,--“Needs must when the +Devil drives.” We dress again. An exploring expedition reveals the +big dining-room on the floor below full to the doors with uniformed +officers, long-haired students, and assorted civilians. All are +drinking and smoking. On a stage at one end of the room thirty +short-skirted damsels are singing and dancing in chorus, to the great +approval of the audience. As the curtain rolls down on an act, the +_ci-devant_ dancers descend to their friends on the floor. Corks pop, +and sweet champagne flows. The call goes up for “_Papirose!_” and more +cigarettes and more bottles come thick and fast. + +Soon there is an air of subdued expectancy, and eager looks are +directed to the curtain. Somebody near by leans close and whispers for +your enlightenment, “All-black man!” Out comes an old Southern Negro, +who sings to the wondering Russians a Slavonic version of the “Suwanee +River,” between verses delivering himself, with many a flourish, of +a clog-dance. Johnson is the man’s name. How he drifted so far from +Charleston he hardly knows himself. He followed the music-halls to +‘Frisco, and somebody, for whom he “has a razor ready,” told him he +would make his fortune in Vladivostok. He kept getting further and +further into the interior, picking up the language as he went, and +turning his songs into the vernacular. Poor chap, the pathos he puts +into the “Suwanee River”! He is thinking, in frozen Irkutsk, of the old +Carolina homestead, and is singing and dancing his way back. + +A girl in peasant dress takes the stage after “Sambo.” She is singing +some song that is running its course across northern Asia. The lassies +at the tables and the men join in. Glasses clink and heels tap. The +miners who have made their stake, the prospectors who hope to, the +sable-merchants of the Yakutsk, the wool-dealers from Mongolia, all +meet here as the first place where the rigors of the hinterland can be +compensated. It is very gay--very, very gay. + +In the years after the ukase of Paul I, ordering that all officers +who had made themselves notorious for lack of education or training +should be sent to the Siberian garrisons, it may be imagined what a +Gomorrah grew up under the Russian banners. Modern celebrations are by +comparison mild and temperate, as the cold beyond these double windows +is mild and temperate to that outside the Tunguses’ huts, in the +Yakutsk Province. But it is fairly impressive, nevertheless. + +Even in a Siberian hotel, the world goes to bed sometime. By four +o’clock the music has stopped, and the traveler is tired enough to +sleep on even the populous plank-bottomed bed. Thus do all things work +together to weave the “web of life.” + +It is nearing noon when one wakes to eat a combination of breakfast and +lunch, and plan for the day. The Post-Office and the Bank are the first +material objectives. One must register so that mail may be delivered. +We go down and join two companions of the road. With careful directions +from the porter, the party prepares for the half-mile walk to the +Post-Office. The preliminaries are formidable in themselves. First the +felt goloshes must be pulled over the shoes; then the big fur overcoat +must be swung on and carefully buttoned down its length. Finally a fur +cap, like a grenadier’s, with ear-flaps is tied, and great fleece-lined +gloves are donned. The droshky-drivers assembled before the hotel seem +to take it as an insult to their profession that we elect to walk, and +two or three follow along outside the curb until the group reaches the +corner and turns into the main street, Bolshoiskaia. + +[Illustration: A CHAPEL BOLSHOISKAIA IN IRKUTSK] + +There is an air of placid quiescence at this noon hour. The policeman +at the nearest corner is ruminatingly handling his sabre-hilt, +and watching the sleighs go by. Here and there a woman, with the +ubiquitous gray shawl over her head, passes, with a preoccupied air. +Sheepskin-clad mujiks are driving along, with sledge-loads of firewood +or stiffly-frozen carcasses, on their way to the bazaar markets. The +shop-windows attract our gaze. Here is one with the word “_Apteka_” +over the door, which is to say, Apothecary. Benches are set in front of +it, on which one may sit and watch the people pass, as in the chairs +before a New England country tavern. Further along is a solidly built +white department store, the Warsawski Magazine, wherein one can get all +manner of apparel,--shawls of the latest Irkutsk pattern, towels and +soap, and--most important--blankets for the trip into the interior. We +stroll in for a moment. An individual looking like a stalwart Chinaman, +with long braided queue, shoulders his way past us to buy some cloth. + +“He is a Buriat of the tribe north of Irkutsk,” explains one of the +shop-girls, very close herself in type to those seen at Wanamaker’s in +Manhattan. + +Near-by the imposing magazine is a low one-story booth occupied by +a watchmaker. Beyond that is a walled enclosure with lofty gates, +as befits a school. Still further is the yellow and green sign of a +government liquor-_traktir_. The name is said to be derived from the +French word _traiteur_, which was current in the days when Napoleon +and Bourrienne were planning conquests in their Parisian poverty. + +As we turn up a side street, the shops for the poorer people appear. +Gaudy pictures, of packages of tea, vegetables, and sugar-loaves, +illuminate the walls, to tell the unlettered that groceries are +sold within. Saws and hammers and vises are painted on the walls +of the hardware-shops. Loaves of bread, crescent rolls, and rococo +wedding-cakes decorate a bakery; boots and high-heeled slippers, a +shoemaker’s booth. The street is an open-air gallery of rude frescoes. + +Presently we come to residences, some of cement-covered brick, with +high enclosing whitewashed walls and iron gates, some wooden, with +their rough-hewn logs unpainted save for the brilliant white sills and +window-frames. + +At length, far from the town’s busy district, the Post-Office is +reached. The building is thronged. Two soldiers are loading their +saddle-bags with the mail for the regiment. Women are collecting +money-orders. A crowd waits at the window of the girl who sells stamps. +In rushing industry she makes the calculating beads of her abacus +fly across the wires. Everybody is far too occupied to register a +voyageur’s name,--excepting always the half-dozen soldiers posted in +different parts of the room and leaning stolidly upon their bayonets. +We venture to ask one of them which is the registry window. + +“_Russisch verstehe ich nicht_,” is the answer. + +A Siberian post-guard knowing no Russian and answering in German seems +extraordinary. + +“Where are you from?” we inquire in his native tongue. + +“Courland,” he answers,--“Courland by the Baltic.” + +This city of Irkutsk gave trouble in 1905. If it gives trouble again, +the garrison will be safe. + +The registering at length is done and we turn to go out. A tattered +figure, bearded and haggard, with rags bound on his feet, opens the +outer door. + +“Will the _gaspadine_ help a man get back to Russia?” + +Your companion looks closely at him. + +“A convict! very bad people.” He adds: “There is a murder every day +here, and one cannot safely go out at night. Very bad men!” + +With the contradictory charity that is so typical of the Russian, he +fumbles in his pocket and gives the unfortunate a fifty-kopeck piece. + +We go now to the great market-place and the bazaars. Here where we +enter is a row of hardware-shops. In the first booth a string of +kettles hangs down, and knives, spoons, candlesticks, and hammers +are suspended so as to catch the eye. The proprietor stands outside, +chatting with a passer-by and the tenant of the adjoining booth. +Further on are stationers, with tables of cheap-covered books. The +wall of one is decked with chromos of galloping Cossacks, led by a +long-haired pope with a crucifix. The soldiers are sabring fleeing +Japanese, and red blood is lavishly provided. On the opposite wall are +glittering brass and silver ikons, and lithographs of ancient martyrdom. + +Row upon row of red felt boots hang in the next line of booths, and +in still another--the wooden-ware bazaar--are bowls and spoons, and +platters of high and low degree. Further on a dozen women are grouped +around one of their class, who is bargaining for a huge forequarter of +beef, a full _pud_ weight by the big lever scales that are balancing it. + +“_Dorogo! dorogo!_” (Too dear, too dear!) she cries. “I will give eight +kopecks a pound.” + +The market-woman protests that she will be beggared at less than eleven +kopecks. + +A half-_sotnia_ of little Buriat Cossacks come riding by, clad in their +puffy leather _shubas_. Yellow-topped fur caps are their only uniform +garment, and across their backs are hung the carbines. They make merry +at the haggling women. Two swing off their shaggy ponies, and begin in +turn to bargain in broken Russian for some paper-wrapped sweetmeats. +They close the deal finally, tuck these away, toss themselves back into +position, and ride off. Further along, half a dozen men cluster around +a fur-cap seller. He is a merry fellow, and there is much noise and +banter and gossiping. Such is the bazaar, the Forum of old Rome set +down in a Siberian city. + +[Illustration: THE BAZAAR, IRKUTSK] + +A short further stroll, and the party is at your other objective, the +Bank. You take leave of the rest and enter. At the door, a grandly +uniformed porter helps you off with the outer husk of furs, and motions +you into the outer office, with its half-dozen clerks bending over +sloping desks. One of these takes your card, and returning leads the +way to a capacious sitting-room, with armchairs scattered here and +there, pictures on the wall, magazines of many nations on the centre +table. The American typewriter, which alone betrays that this is an +office, is on a little table at one side. A tall military-looking +man, gray-mustached and grave in manner, is seated beside the window +reading some documents. He rises as you enter, and greets you, and +for some minutes the conversation in French is upon general themes. +Presently you go down into a side pocket and get out letters of +introduction. One is from the Petersburg headquarters. He looks at the +signature--Ignatieff. + +“You are his friend?” The polished worldliness falls away as a cloak +that is thrown off. “Splendid!” he says. “Welcome to our city. We +must have tea.” He pushes a bell, and a page, red-bloused and wearing +brightly polished jack-boots, appears. “_Chai_, Alexis,” he orders. +“And how did you leave Ignatieff?” he begins eagerly. “Does he still +drive his black stallions? It is two years that I have not seen him. +When I was in Petersburg last winter, he was in Paris, and when I was +in Paris, he was at Nice. One is very separated from his friends here. +One might as well be a convict.” + +You answer all his questions, and begin to feel as if you were +at a little family party. Presently, in the midst of the double +conversation,--for the Russians seem to talk and listen at the +same time,--the boy comes in with a big samovar, and the other +accompaniments. The banker makes the brew in the china pot. From this +each of us serves himself as the compound conversation moves on. + +“You have not yet seen the sights of Irkutsk?” he observes at last. “I +will get my sleigh and show you around when we have finished.” + +“It is the middle of the day. I cannot break into your work like that,” +you protest. + +But he rings a bell for the red-jacketed boy. “Order my sleigh.--We +have the finest city in Siberia,” he continues; “eighty thousand people +now, and growing always. And trade has come with the railroad as we +had not dreamed before. In the days when they used to bring the tea +overland from Kiahta, the sledges from Baikal would carry as many as +five thousand bales daily. We thought when this began to be shipped +through by the railroad that it would hurt the city. But there was so +much other traffic that the loss was hardly felt.” + +“The sleigh is ready,” the boy announces. + +“May I have the honor?” he says, with his easy grace. + +He leads the way to the coat-rack, and is received with the deepest +bows by the uniformed worthy, who solicitously helps him on with his +coat and overshoes. Then with a stereotyped motion the man holds +out his hand for the tip. Though this servant is at the door of the +banker’s own office and presumably upon his pay-roll, the incessant +tribute is his perquisite. It is usual throughout Siberia for wealthy +Russians to scatter small silver everywhere along their path--to +friends’ servants, to house-porters, to beggars on the street. The +most profuse miscellaneous generosity prevails. Riding to-day with +the Russian banker is like watching the progress of a mediæval prince +dispensing his largesse. + +At the entrance to the bank is the sleigh, skeleton-framed and +high-built, unlike most of the sleighs of Siberia. Three big black +horses, with the snake-like Arab head that characterizes the best +Orloff strains, are hitched to it, troika-fashion, the centre horse +under a big bow yoke, the outside animals running free. The coachman +has the square pillow-hat, and the enormous wadded corpulence of Jehu +elegance. + +It is an interesting ride in which we move slowly up the Bolshoiskaia, +receiving, so far as the banker is concerned, neighborly greetings from +most of the sleigh-riders, and respectful salutes from the foot-passers +on the sidewalks. A nice social distinction our host draws in returning +the formal salute for uniformed officials, the cordial wave of the hand +for intimate friends, a nod for the humbler acquaintances: but none go +unrecognized. + +Something like the Roman’s idea of showing his city by turns up and +down the Corso, is this Siberian’s. We do halt, however, and look at +the big Opera House and the Geographical Society’s Museum and the +many-domed Cathedral,--buildings which in no city would be other than +sources of satisfaction. After an hour of driving in the piercing cold, +one’s conscience begins to prick. The banker, even though absent from +his affairs, does not appear to feel either business or atmosphere. At +length we are brought at a gallop to the doorstep of the hotel. + +“To-night we dine at eight. Adieu.” With a bow he draws the bearskin +robes about him, and the black horses bear him swiftly around the +corner. + +An acquaintance from the train is in the hallway as you climb stiffly +up the steps. + +“Has the drive been a bit cold?” he asks. “Come in and have a _stakan_ +of vodka.” + +“Is that not rather heady for a between-meal tipple?” you suggest. + +“This is Siberia. When you run with the wolves, you must cry like a +wolf,--but tea, too, is good.” + +You mount the stairs together, to the scene of last night’s orgy, and +order a couple of glasses of tea. + +It is a strange anticlimax to find the room so deserted. At three +this morning it was a good imitation of the traditional “Maxim’s.” +At four in the afternoon it is simply a crude wooden hall, with the +stiff-backed, plush-seated chairs ranged in bourgeois regularity at the +discreetly covered tables. Only the shuffle of somebody practicing a +new step on the stage behind the curtains suggests the double life of +this innocent-looking hotel dining-room. + +A couple of glasses of tea attack the cold in strategic fashion, from +the inside, and are better than the external reheating method. We sip +in silence for a while. + +“I am going to drive over to the Banno and have a Russian bath,” +observes your companion. “I do not like the tin tub they bring around +here at the hotel. Are you impelled to come along?” + +“Is there attendance and room for two? I’m not minded to sit around and +wait.” + +“Room for five hundred,” he says, with a long sweep of the hand. +“Everybody goes there. It is one of the institutions of the city.” + +As you are now warm enough to consider a further drive, you go down +to assist in bargaining for a sleigh to make the tour to and from the +Banno. + +A big brick building a verst or so away, with a number of private +equipages and a stand for public sleighs and droshkys, is our +destination. A beggar-woman opens the double doors and gets her service +percentage from each passer. + +“How much is given in this part of the world to beggars!” you remark. + +The Russian smiles. “It is a part of religion to give. At every big +family affair,--a wedding, a christening, a funeral,--we distribute +money and gifts to the poor.” + +In the entresol of the bath-house, a big tiled anteroom, there are +marble-topped tables, around which men and women are smoking and +reading papers. One can dine here, even; but this comes after the +bath. A ticket at the _kontora_ gives, for a rouble, the privilege of +a preliminary boiling and a flaying by one of the naked attendants. A +start is made by washing you with infinite thoroughness, section by +section, the attendant continuing on each spot until told to stop or +advance to the next. An unfortunate foreigner, in Irkutsk, had his +head shampooed seven times in succession before he could recall the +cabalistic word necessary to direct the man’s attention elsewhere. + +One is scrubbed and rinsed, and is then conducted up onto a wooden +platform, running along under the ceiling. Here, while the first +inquisitioner dashes water on a steamer-oven below, the second scrapes +the victim with new pine branches. One remembers an Irkutsk Russian +bath at least as long as the smarting and the cold he gets from it +endure. + +Back at the hotel one can dig out his rather crumpled dress-suit in +preparation for the evening’s entertainment. Later, he gathers in +another sleigh, and sets out for the home of the banker. + +In Irkutsk nobody relies on house-numbers to find his way. Even Moscow +has not yet advanced to this refinement of civilization. If the +driver does not know the route, he stops to ask passers-by, “Where +is So-and-So’s house?” Again and again you are taken to the abode +of somebody else with a name more or less similar. Then the driver +will say, quite nonchalantly, “_Nietchevo!_”--ask the next person he +encounters for directions, and start anew. You leave abundant margin of +time, and usually arrive sooner or later. + +Our host of to-night is, happily, well known throughout the city. So +the driver whips up to a gallop and rushes down the snowy streets. It +is not a long ride to the big arched doorway of the white two-storied +plaster-covered house, in front of which the driver pulls up with +a flourish. You ring a bell at the side of the door and wait. The +_isvoschik_ has taken a station beside the curb, has folded his +arms, and is nodding on the box, apparently prepared to camp there +indefinitely. “Eleven o’clock, return,” you say. “_Haracho!_” is his +drowsy answer, given without moving. The horses have drooped their +heads; they too are settled for repose. The tinkle of a piano comes +from within, but minute after minute goes by, the bell unanswered, the +_isvoschik_ immovable on his little seat. Other pulls of the bell are +at last of avail: the door slowly opens. A final objurgation to the +coachman that he is not wanted until eleven o’clock falls on sealed +ears. You go in through the massive doorway. + +In the antechamber a gray-bloused attendant helps you off with wraps +and goloshes, then silently disappears through a rear door, leaving +you standing there unannounced. The vestibule is cumbered with coats +and hats on the wall-hooks, overshoes helter-skelter on the floor, and +canes and umbrellas in the corner. It is like a clothing establishment. +Beyond the curtained doorway on the right are lights, and the sound +of the piano is louder. This seems the most promising direction for +exploration, so--forward! + +Beyond the portières is a splendidly lofty room, like that of an +Italian palace, brilliantly lighted with electricity. Many-paned +windows run high up, starting from the level of one’s breast, and +long heavy hangings half-conceal them. To the right of the door is a +mahogany grand piano, at which, oblivious of the world, the host is +diligently thumping away at _Partant pour la Syrie!_ with inadvertent +variations, singing carelessly as he plays. Beyond him, in an imposing +armchair of German oak, like King Edward’s throne in the Abbey, is +a lady, propped with many cushions. She is slender and darkly clad, +and is conversing with a young man in uniform, who sits very straight +on a dainty gilt chair of the Louis XVI epoch. A low lacquered table +before them is gayly painted with geisha girls and eaved pagodas. +It holds a massive brass samovar encircled by a row of beautifully +colored tea-tumblers of the sort that one sees on exhibition in the +glass-factories which front the Grand Canal at Venice. The chorus comes +from the banker at the piano:-- + + Amour à la plus belle; + Honneur au plus vaillant. + +[Illustration: THE ICE-BREAKER, YERMAK--LAKE BAIKAL] + +There is no use of paltering and waiting to be announced, so we enter +the room. The performer hears the steps on the polished floor and +swings round on the stool. “Ah, voilà!” he says, and rises to introduce +you to his wife. + +“A moi le plaisir,” she says, smiling. “Mon frère, Ivan Semyonevich,” +presenting you next to the young officer, who rises abruptly and clicks +his heels as he takes your hand. + +You are motioned to a replica of the little chair, and your host +returns to his piano, this time to play with immense satisfaction in +your honor a hazy memory of some bygone variety show: “There’ll be a +hot time in the old town to-night.” + +“A friend is very welcome,” says Madame Karetnikov, when he finishes. +“We do not see many from the world here in Siberia.” + +“The life, however, is interesting, is it not?” + +“O monsieur, I, too, was interested at first, but there are so few +people of the world here, and we see them all the time. C’est affreux! +I give you a month to change that opinion.” + +“You give a month, Irina; I give a week,” growls her brother. + +“If it were not that we get away during the spring one would perish +of ennui,” the hostess adds. “But Japan is not far. We go there or to +Europe every year. Perhaps soon we shall get a transfer to another +branch.” + +“You bankers have hopes,” observes the brother, “but what of us poor +officials of the Justice Department! We are chained to the bench like +old galley-slaves, and all we get is three hundred roubles a month and +a red button when we are seventy.” + +As the macerated song floats anew from the piano, the hall-door opens +and there is dimly visible in the anteroom a curious much-encumbered +figure, with a gigantic sheepskin hat and short blue reefer coat. He +divests himself of these, and of a long woolen inside muffler, and, +brushing back his long hair, comes into the room. His blue tunic is +resplendent with brass buttons and he wears jack-boots. A light down is +growing upon his upper lip. He is nineteen or twenty. + +“Good-day!” says our host, hailing him in English. + +“Good-day, uncle!” he replies. + +He presents himself before Madame Karetnikov, who holds out her hand, +which he formally kisses. + +“_Zdravstvouitie_, Valerian!” says the official, shaking the young +man’s hand. + +Then you are introduced with explanations. + +“Valerian here is in his last year at the Irkutsk Realistic School, +studying preparatory to engineering.” + +The status of science in Siberia becomes the theme, and the newcomer +infuses considerable local color into his pictures. + +“Does the professor in drawing suit you now, Valerian?” the banker +inquires presently. Then he adds to you: “They all went on strike +because the old professor of drawing had a method they did not like. +The authorities had to replace him before any of the students would go +back.” + +“The new professor respects our rights,” says Valerian soberly, not +liking the levity of his elder. + +Soon, from an adjoining room, come in the children of the host,--a very +pretty girl of the age at which misses wear short dresses and braids; +and a little boy of about eight. The boy very respectfully kisses his +mother’s hand and is introduced to the stranger, but finds a superior +attraction in his father at the piano. + +The girl, Marie Pavlovna, sits down beside her cousin Valerian. Lacking +the stock football amenities of a happier land, and half-embarrassed, +half-superior in the status of a budding young man, Valerian is not +much of a conversation-maker. Marie Pavlovna, too, is seen but not +heard. She is evidently the typical product of the French system of +sex-segregation and cloistered study, which keeps girls abnormally +uninteresting until marriage, perhaps to make amends subsequently. + +“I think we had better go in and eat. It is half-past eight,” says the +host. + +“Si tu veux,” replies his wife; and we stroll out into a big +dining-room, at one end of which is a heavily-freighted oak sideboard. + +As we approach this, the host opens a far door, and shouts down into +the darkness:-- + +“Obeid, Dimitri.” + +We turn to the _zakuska_ sideboard. The official reaches for the +vodka-bottle, and the little silver egg-like glasses. + +“Vodka will it be, or do you prefer cognac?” + +The various guests choose their tipple. With the gulp of a mountaineer +taking his moonshine, the banker swallows the twenty-year-old French +brandy, of the sort that gourmets protractingly sip with their coffee. +The little boy slips out to his particular region of the house. The +hostess takes her seat at the foot of the table, and the gentlemen pass +and repass, bringing her assorted _zakuska_ dishes as at a ball. Caviar +from the Volga, Thon mariné from Calais, sprats from Hamburg, Columbia +River salmon, are spread out and attacked by the rest of us, standing, +free-lunch fashion. One by one the men finish and straggle to their +places at the table. + +Three menservants, with gray blouses and baggy silk trousers falling +over their topboots, appear now, one with a huge tureen of bouillon, +another with the little silver bowls, and a third with a plate of the +_piroushkies_ that accompany the soup. Madame Karetnikov deals out +the consommé for the whole table, and also for little Paul and his +governess in some outside quarters. Every one begins to eat, without +waiting for the hostess or for anybody else. + +“It is hard work managing a big family like ours,” she allows, in reply +to your question about the domestic problem. “We always have seven or +eight, and one can never tell how many friends will come in to dine +with us.” + +She casts a solicitous eye over the table, to see that no one has been +neglected, and then serves herself. + +“One must keep the men well fed,” she observes. “Remember that, Marie, +when you get married.” + +Marie at the far end of the table nods assent. + +“But you must not think of marrying until you are told,” adds the +banker. + +She nods assent to this, too. + +“Don’t mind him, Marie,” says the official. “He thinks he is living in +the time of the Seven Boyars. Take my advice. Pick out the man you want +and go for him. You can’t fail.” + +“Such ideas to put in a girl’s head!” says his sister, smiling. + +The soup-course is nearly over, when suddenly the banker ejaculates, +and jumps up to welcome some new arrivals. + +“Ah, father!” + +He runs to a sturdy benignant-looking old man, and kisses him on both +his white-bearded cheeks, then does the same to the little old mother. + +“Come in, come in; we are just beginning.” + +At once the table is in a state of unstable equilibrium. The old lady +is steered to a chair at the head, and the rest are pushed along to +make room. The father makes his way, under similar escort, in the +direction of the vodka-bottle. + +“No French brandy for me!” he says, and puts the fiery Russian liquid +where it will do the most good. He, too, goes to the far end of the +table. + +The student tells in a low voice that the newcomer is a veteran of +Sevastopol, was once the personal friend of Czar Alexander, the +Liberator, and was decorated by him for gallantry at Plevna. + +“What a splendid old Russian he is!” one thinks, noting all the +kindliness and courtesy of his honored age, and the grip of a bear-trap +in his hand. Yet there is an indescribable air of melancholy about him, +as if a great sadness were being bravely and uncomplainingly faced. A +remark from the hostess turns you to her. + +“Father is one of the Colonization Commission. We are all very much +interested in hearing about his discussions with the settlers!” + +“Colonization for the settlers or for the exiles here?” you ask. + +“It is the government assistance for the voluntary emigrants, not for +the unfortunate ones.” + +“But the latter must be a problem in themselves?” + +Madame seems embarrassed. + +The student leans over and in a low tone whispers: “His youngest son, +the brother of Vladimir, is in hiding, is under sentence of death. They +don’t speak of him here.” + +“He has just come from the Governor,” adds Madame Karetnikov, “who is a +great friend of his. The Governor has heard from Petersburg that they +may bestow the cross of St. Stanislaus.” + +“That is the autocracy here, which you do not know in your country,” +adds the student, in a low voice. “He is an intimate friend of the +Governor and two of his sons are officials, yet his last son is beyond +pardon. The old man himself knows not where he is. Yet they decorate +the father. He still believes in the Emperor.” + +“Do not let my nephew talk politics to you,” says the hostess, rather +anxiously. + +Valerian is silent. + +A supplementary tureen of soup makes its appearance, and the two +newcomers are served with it. The rest of the party have advanced to +boiled sturgeon, with a thin sauce, compensated by Russian Château +Yquem from the Imperial domain in the Crimea. Roast beef follows the +fish, with the old general and his wife at length even with the rest. + +Then come duck and claret, and finally dessert and champagne. The toast +of the evening is drunk to the old general, who brightens as the meal +advances. In the big reception-room, Turkish coffee is brought, which +is poured from the brazen ladle and served in exquisite little cups +without handles. + +“We got them in Damascus on one of our trips,” says the host. + +Conversation goes round the table. The official is in eager talk +with Madame Karetnikov about a common friend in a smart Petersburg +regiment, who has got badly in debt. + +“He ought to apply for a transfer to the Siberian service. The officers +get more pay, and it costs less to live,” she is urging. + +“But for Serge we must consider how much greater is the cost of +champagne here,” retorts the official. + +“We can marry him to Katinka, and make her father get him a promotion,” +the sister suggests. “I think he ought to have left the army and gone +into the contracting,--every contractor I know is as rich as sin and +goes to Monte Carlo.” + +So the conversation rambles on. Cigarettes are passed. The hostess will +not have one. + +“I used to smoke, but it is so common now,” she explains. “Every +peasant’s wife hangs over her oven with a cigarette in her mouth. Even +a vice cannot survive after it has become unfashionable.” + +The host comes up to show you his curios. + +“This Alpine scene is one of Segantini’s. We got it in Dresden before +he had earned his repute. I am very proud of my wife’s discrimination. +The statuettes are from a little sculptor in the Via Sistina in Rome. +Rien d’extraordinaire. The vase came from the Imperial Palace in +Peking. I bought it from a Cossack for fifty kopecks. I have been told +it belongs to the Tsin Dynasty, and is better than those they have in +Petersburg Hermitage.” + +So you are shown the spoil of two continents in connoisseur purchases. + +“Hardly to be suspected in Irkutsk,” he allows, complacently. + +Every year host and hostess visit the Riviera, taking a turn at Monte +Carlo and Nice and Cannes. The banker speaks English, French, German, +and Italian fluently, and half a dozen other languages passably. His +wife acknowledges only French and Italian. + +The conversation turns to the idealism of Pierre Loti’s description of +the road to Ispahan. The banker has followed this road himself, and he +has a much less poetic memory of it. The veteran--his father--is not up +in French or English, but he has a good knowledge of German left from +academy times. In this language he tells of the old days of the serfs +and of the Crimea. He talks with the kind frankness of age that does +not need self-suppression to prompt respect. When the guests rise to +leave, and the buoyancy of the entertainment is passed, his cloud comes +back. His voice has just a touch of bitterness as he says good-bye. + +“I am glad we can welcome to our country a man traveling for pleasure. +So many who come are here under less pleasant auspices.” + +“_De svidania_,” you say at last to everybody, and out you go into the +midnight frost. The droshky-driver is still there waiting. He has slept +since you entered, unmoving through the hours. “_Gastinitza_,” you +direct; and he drives to the hotel through the bleak starlit night. + +Valerian comes a few days later to visit us, and volunteers to be our +guide for Irkutsk. + +“If I miss a few days at the Academy, what matter? I shall improve my +English,” he explains. + +Valerian is typical of the student class, all ideal and aspiration. +He has gathered the heat of the epoch, and has concentrated it upon +his philosophy. He is saturated with the French Revolution. Does he +mention Danton, for example, it is with intentness of loyalty for the +great Mountain speaker, which makes one almost think that the year +is 1792, and that the place is sans-culottic France; “debout contre +les tyrans!” He sings fiercely with his comrades, to the tune of the +_Marseillaise_, the Russian revolutionary anthem, ending it with a +swirl. “For the palace is foe to our homes!” America he considers one +of the free nations, but he has reserves. Though he is not at one with +our political system, yet he thinks that all learned about it is a +great gain. + +“Your land is free politically,” he specifies, “but it is not yet +emancipated from capital,--it is not free socially. You have an +industrial feudalism and a proletariat. So will it not be when we have +won our revolution.” + +Many are his anecdotes of the uprising of 1905, whose tragic drama will +never be fully pictured and whose history is to be gleaned only from +the mouths of cautious witnesses. + +[Illustration: THE ORGANIZERS OF THE CHITA REPUBLIC] + +“We rose at Irkutsk, many of us, students and workmen, but General +Müller had a strong garrison of troops here. We tried them, but they +would not come over. They shot down our men and dispersed all the +meetings, and now he is Governor in the Baltic Provinces. They say +that when he was drunk, he would shoot accused men in his own railway +carriage; “the butcher!” we of the Cause call him. At Tomsk and +Krasnoyarsk the city was held for weeks by our party. The railway men +would not run troop-trains and the Government was paralyzed. Chita was +held by a Revolutionary Committee of Safety. We manned the entrances +with artillery. We took turns watching, and ran the whole city, not +touching the money in the Treasury. But we were few, and word came +that the insurrection was everywhere broken. Müller was marching from +Irkutsk, and Rennenkamp came back with the troops from Manchuria. He +promised moderate terms to all but the leaders. The townspeople were +afraid, and rose against our men. Many were taken. Many fled away and +got to Japan and America. Some were shot and some were sent to the +Yakutsk. So it was crushed, and our great chance was gone.” + +“Will it come again?” + +“_Ni snaia!_ The workmen are ready. The intellectuals are ready. The +peasants back in Russia cry for land. Perhaps they too will be ripe +next time, and the soldiers will be with us. In any case Siberia has +seen the red flag float over the Chita Republic.” + +Many-faceted is the life in a Siberian city. In numerous ways it +seems feverish and abnormal, for it represents the young blood of a +capable race struggling upward, and knowing that in much its battle +is desperate. The towns have hardly yet got settled methods; they are +outgrown villages where men of all stamps, who have become enriched +in the new land, come for the pleasures or the benefit of a less +monotonous existence. The traditions of peasant origins survive in the +conditions and general civic neglect. + +Irkutsk, once its novelties have become familiar, has lost its charm. +That it is provincial is no discredit, but its amusements are of the +grosser order, unredeemed by wit. Every evening the tawdry dining-room +at the hotel echoes the songs and noise of the revelers. The same +circle attends the theatres. The students discuss hotly the rights +of man and the Valhalla prepared for all martyrs, and calm simple +wholesome life seems to be reserved for the workaday world which moves +on its slow toilsome upward way in silence. + +There is, however, to-night an unwonted stir at the Hôtel Métropole. +The corridors are thronged. A Russian friend points out the notables. +The blue-uniformed official yonder with the gray mustache and the row +of glittering orders on his breast is the Governor-General. Half a +dozen members of the local bar, in frock-coats, pass through. In the +dining-room a young lieutenant, dashingly clad in long maroon coat +with the row of silver-topped cartouches and the clattering sabre of +the Emperor’s Cossack Guard, is being deferentially entertained by +officers of the garrison. Three officials are taking champagne with +two beautifully gowned women, Parisiennes even to their long pendant +earrings. The hotel-pages in fresh red blouses and high boots pass here +and there with messages. The waiters, with intensified deference, glide +among the crowd in its many-colored uniforms and glittering war-medals. + +“Who has arrived?” we ask, surveying the scene. + +“A member of the Imperial Cabinet.” + +The announcement of his name has a personal interest and memories of +earlier stays in Russia. + +The Minister’s life has been a romance indeed. Disagreeing with his +family through liberal ideas, he went in 1862 to Birkenhead as a +locomotive engineer, to the United States, to Argentine, and returning +to Russia worked up from a very small government position to be chief +of all the Russian roads, railways, and telegraphs, and Minister of +Ways and Communications in the Czar’s Cabinet. His brain threw the line +of rails over half a continent. On the outbreak of the Japanese War he +was called from his retirement to the colossal task of bringing to the +front across the width of Asia half a million men, their artillery and +arms, their food, their transport, all on the one line of rails. He has +served under three Emperors and is life-member of the Senate. + +You send a card in through one of the attachés. In a few minutes there +is delivered to you the Prince’s card, across which is written: “At +noon.” + +At the hour appointed you mount to the apartment overlooking the +Bolshoiskaia. Guards at salute, staff in brilliant uniforms, +secretaries and callers in full dress,--the antechambers are full. You +pass through to the furthermost room. + +In a nest of books and maps, with blue-prints outspread on floor and +chairs and sofas, is an elderly man in a plain frock-coat, without a +ribbon or a button to hint his honors. He is vigorous, hearty, simple, +almost unchanged from your earlier acquaintance, his keen flashing eyes +hinting ever a reverse side to the great repose of his manner. + +Personal questions occupy the first minutes, but presently we are into +larger themes, and you begin to feel subtly the man’s power. He has +come on a special tour, to inspect, with his own practiced eyes, the +projected double-tracking of the Siberian Railroad. Every brakeman +and locomotive engineer, every traffic superintendent and division +manager along the route knows he could step down from his private car +and handle the levers and give them directions. His mind is a very +vortex of ideas, and his range of conversation reflects world-wide +interests. The talk gets to the American political situation and the +race-problem. Later it shifts to the Japanese War, and he tells of some +of his experiences getting the troops into Manchuria. A mention of the +overland road to China awakens reminiscences. + +“It was long before the railroad that I went over that route first,” he +says. He tells of his months-long horseback ride beyond Baikal before +the railroad went through, inspecting the trade-route and the prospects +of the country. By and by the conversation has got to the special +problems of the Slav. With the straightforward frankness of a great +nature which wishes the best for his country, he tells of the Russian +aspirations from the standpoint of those who are facing the problems of +the nation in their fact and practice. + +“I too,” he says, “was once for changing much in a little time, and +worked to free the serfs and to start the elective Semstvos throughout +the Empire. Alas! so much that they want is possible to no government! +One cannot by enactment abolish want or bring all men to a _niveau_. +We are trying to give every man the chance to rise, unchecked by any +administrative barrier. But one sees as he lives longer that all which +one wishes cannot come at a _coup_. Great changes, great improvements, +I have witnessed, but they have not come by violence. We must keep +order, and hand on to our sons an undivided Empire of the Russias.” + +You leave this patient builder of the new order alone amid his maps +and studies in the idle Sunday city. As you descend the steps, a +black-capped student passes the door. He is humming the forbidden +_Marseillaise_. + + + + +IV + +SLEDGING THROUGH TRANSBAIKALIA + + +The sledge-route that leads to the Chinese frontier goes southward +from Verhneudinsk across the territory of Transbaikalia. In old days +one reached its starting-point by traversing the frozen Lake Baikal in +sleighs, muffled in furs against the sweep of the terrible winds, with +plunging ponies at full gallop. + +Now, after mighty effort and at monumental cost, the line of the great +railroad has been driven through the last obstacles that blocked an +open way, and trains carry the traveler through the deep cuts and +tunnels that pierce the barrier crags around the Holy Sea. + +It is not the express that one takes at the Irkutsk station to reach +the ancient fort, but the daily post-train, the servant of local +traffic. Luggage-cumbered passengers crowd into the cars wherever +there is a place. A few, and these mostly officials, establish +themselves in the blue-painted first class. Many press into the yellow +second class--merchants, lesser chinovniks, tradesmen, popes, and +children on their way to the city schools. Swarms pour into the green +wooden-benched third, where the thronging tousle-headed emigrants +patiently huddle closer to give room to newcomers. Next to the engine, +with its big smokestack, is the mail-wagon, on whose sides are painted +crossed post-horns and the picture of a sealed letter. Behind this, +with a sentry on guard, is the baggage-car. The sinister compartment +of drawn shutters and barred windows is for the prisoners. In this +princes or artel-workers, their identity unsuspected, can be run across +a continent to their unknown places of exile. + +The post-train starts from Irkutsk occasionally on time. In general, +along the local line the time-table is about as reliable a guide as the +calendars sold to the mujiks, with weather prophecies for each day of +the year. Fifteen miles an hour is mean speed. Stops may be for minutes +or for hours. One settles down therefore in the attitude sacred to a +yachting cruise,--foie gras and bridge, if it is calm; double reefs and +pilot-bread if it blows up. The high heavens alone know when we are to +get in, and nobody cares. It is not unpleasant withal to sprawl over +a great broad couch, and as the train crawls forward watch the white +highlands slowly unroll, the towering cliffs and peaks with spear-like +pines driving up through the snow, and the icy lake below. + +For meals, one dashes out during the station-stops, and before +the third bell gives warning of the start, devours meat-filled +_piroushkies_ and swallows lemon-tinctured tea at the long +buffet-tables decked with hollow squares of wine-bottles, and beer +from the seven breweries of Irkutsk. If one has a teapot he can get +boiling water from the government-furnished samovar, and milk from the +peasant-women who stand in booths hard-by. He can add salt fish and hot +fowl, together with rye-bread and butter, and then consume his rations +at leisure in the compartment. At night the seats are let down, and one +sleeps in fitful naps among the hills of baggage. When morning comes, +an hour-long procession forms to take turns at the wash-bowl with its +trickle valve, in a towelless, soapless, and cindered lavatory. + +We leave Irkutsk at ten in the morning, and reach Verhneudinsk at seven +next day, covering in twenty-one hours the 446 versts. Here is the last +of the railroad. With troika, sledge, and tarantass, by highway and +byway, over frozen rivers and camel-tracked trails, we must now follow +the old road into the heart of Asia. + +The post-station that serves as point of departure for the sledge +journey lies some distance away, at the edge of the town. An +_isvoschik_, after due bargaining, proceeds to transfer thither us and +our dunnage-bags. + +As we ride through the town, just waking for the day, the streets, the +lamps, the telegraph-wires, the comfortable houses,--each and every +symbol of civilization takes on a new significance now that it is to +be left behind. On the parade-grounds the recruits are at the morning +drill, shouting lustily in unison, “_Ras, dva, tre!_” to keep the +step. We pass the barracks, the shops with their brightly illustrated +signs, and ride under the wooden yellow-painted Alexander Arch. + +[Illustration: BAIKAL STATION] + +[Illustration: THE HIGHLANDS OF TRANSBAIKALIA] + +Soon we reach a street of low log houses, and a lofty boarded enclosure +is ahead. At its gateway is swinging a black signboard, painted with +post-horn and the Czar’s double-headed eagle. “_Postava Stancie_,” +is inscribed over the lintel. Between the black and white-striped +gate-posts we swing into the courtyard. To the left stretches a low +log house. To the right, along the wall, are ranked sledges. In front +are the stalls. Grooms, whip in hand, stand around in the courtyard, +muffled against the cold. + +“Is the _gaspadine_ going on?” one of them asks. + +On the reply, “Yes, at once,” he scurries off to start harnessing, and +you shoulder open the low felted door of the post-house and enter the +big waiting-room. + +“Three horses?” asks the young black-mustached agent within. + +“Yes, a troika sledge.” + +He turns to the book of registry attached to the rough table by a long +cord fastened with a big red seal, and begins to write. + +“The name?” he asks. It goes down. + +“The destination?” + +“The Chinese frontier at Kiahta.” + +“Your first relay-station is Nijniouboukounskaia, twenty-seven versts.” + +The fare is set out in a printed placard posted up on the wall; as is +the price of a samovar, fifteen kopecks, and all the other items that +the traveler may require. + +The agent hands you the slip: “One rouble, eighty-two kopecks, for two +persons, the _gaspadine_ and his courier”; something under three cents +a passenger-mile. + +As you wait for the harnessing of the post-sledge, the courier +overlooks anew the bags and counts out again the parcels. As light as +possible must be the impedimenta. Now is the last chance for change. + +The big station-clock ticks on. The agent moves about in the warm dusky +silence of the house. The courier straps tighter the dunnage-bag. + +“Look that your furs are snugly fastened,” he says. + +There is trample of footsteps by the door. A fur-clad, ruddy-faced +driver stumbles in, makes the sign of the cross before the ikon on the +further wall, and beckons to you. + +“Ready!” he says. + +Three shaggy ponies stand hitched to a wooden sledge, not high like +those of city _isvoschiks_, but low and shaped like a wide bath-tub. +The bottom is cushioned with hay and you are to sit some six inches +above the runners. The bells hanging from the big arched _duga_ over +the centre horse jingle as he frets. The side horses, that will run +loose between rope-traces, look around at the _yamshik_ who stands +by. He holds in his mittened hands four reins of leather, twisted into +ropes--two for the centre trotter, one each, on the outside, for the +gallopers. + +You climb into the nest of rugs and furs superimposed upon your +baggage! The _yamshik_ leaps to the precarious perch that serves as +his seat. The whip falls, and with a bound the horses are off. Always +one starts at top speed, however bad the way. Always one finishes at a +gallop, however jaded the horses. It is the rule of the Russian road. + +With bells jingling, the driver shouting to clear the way, and a white +cloud rising behind, the sledge skims out between the log houses +which flank the straggling street. Dogs bark and the idle passers-by +stare. Fur-covered pigs scramble up with a squeal, and scurry from +their resting-places in the road. Girls, with shako-capped heads, peer +through the windows. Little chubby boys, in big brown felt boots, cheer. + +Soon the uttermost houses of the town are left, and emerging we plunge +into the country road through open fields, dazzlingly, blindingly +white. The trotter’s legs seem to move too fast, as if seen in a +cinematograph. The gallopers, free of all weight and held only by the +two traces which fasten them, outrigger fashion, swing on like wild +ponies of the steppe. Crude and massive as the sleigh may look, its +burden is almost nothing on the hard compacted snow. The horses in the +rush through the bracing air seem to be the incarnation of the wind. A +rut in the glistening road does not produce a disjointing shock, for, +as a huntsman’s bullet glances from the skull of a wild boar, so the +sleigh glides into the air and swiftly down again at a long low angle. +It is a fact of “flying.” + +The cold is intense. After an hour of riding you have learned a +certain lesson which adds to your experience. Whether the traveler +shall make this winter journey equipped with full camp-kit, portable +stove, folding-forks, thermos bottles, and shell-reloading tools, or +Tatar fashion, with a rifle and a haunch of mutton, is important but +not vital. Let him make sure, however, that the huge all-enveloping +sheepskin overcoat is at hand to supplement the coats beneath, and +that a shaggy sleeping-rug is provided in addition to the blankets. +One obstinate newcomer started with the insistence that a mink-lined +Amerikanski overcoat, with two heavy rugs as lap-robes, would be ample. +After an hour on the road, he turned into a peasant’s hut to thaw out +upon boiling tea, while the driver went back to the town to buy the +hairiest robe and coat obtainable. These were thenceforth worn on top +of the initial outfit. Siberia for a midwinter sledging journey exacts +this tribute of respect. + +For versts the winter road follows down along the river between +towering pinnacled rocks, where in summer eagles nest. The cliffs are +vividly spotted with orange and green lichens; below they are fretted +with the scourings of ice brought down in the spring freshets. All +along beside the road are the familiar pine-saplings planted in mounds +by the villagers to guide the way. In the vast monotony and drifting +snows travelers would be lost but for these landmarks. Along the +fertile river valleys hamlets are thick. A cluster of houses is met +every six to ten versts. Presently the road leaves the river and bends +to the left, cutting across fields. When it quits the bank, it climbs +sharply a five-foot ascent. The driver does not even slacken speed. +At the turn he swings the sure-footed ponies suddenly, and takes the +slope, letting the outrigger bring up against a stiff clump of bushes. +There is a crash, the sleigh has caromed off at right angles, nothing +has befallen, and we are on again. + +Verst after verst of plateau goes by, with rounded rolling hills +of dimpled snow, treeless, houseless, a barren waste. Then comes a +crest so steep that the horses can only toil up it at a walk, and the +passengers must climb beside them. The forest closes in as the height +is mounted,--white leafless birches and dark green pines. The light +snow is seamed with rabbit-runs, and here and there are the far-spaced +tracks of deer or wild goats. + +A mound of stones and a small pole with a Buddhist prayer-flag--for +here is the ancient home of the Buriats--mark the top of the ascent. +There is a moment’s halt while you climb in and the driver tightens +the saddle of the centre horse; then down the giddy descent we sweep, +in full gallop once more. The pines flash past, and you hold your +breath in fear of the smash that must come should a horse fall, should +a trace break, should a side rut swing the sledge over. One is, +however, so close to the ground that an overturn is usually harmless, +save to the clothes and the nervous system, both of which are at a +discount in Siberian sledging. Then too the outrigger arrangement is +such that the craft turns a quarter of the way over and slides on the +supplementary runner until it rights. + +The cold is intense. One wipes away the snow from his fur collar, and +the dampness on the handkerchief has caused it to become frozen stiff. +It is a crackling parchment that goes back into the pocket. Eyeglasses +are unwearable, for the rising vapor from one’s breath is caught and +frozen on them in an opaque film. Fingers exposed but a moment become +numb and useless, and uncovering the hand is an agony. Gradually as +you ride, through the great felt boots, the triple flannels, the +camel’s-hair stockings, the fur-lined gloves, the coats and rugs, +the cold begins to bite. You have become fatigued and depressed of a +sudden. The driver points to your cheek, where the marble whiteness is +eating into the flesh, and bids you rub it with snow. An involuntary +shudder grips and shakes you relentlessly from head to foot. + +It is time to stop. If you try to go on beyond the next station you +will, if the gods are lenient and you do not freeze, get out nerveless +and trembling, not for hours to rally strength and energy. The chill +will cling, however hot the post-house oven. Even now you are weak, +beaten down, querulous, in a sudden feeble old age. The shudder means +that the human animal is near his endurance limit. + +On an urgent call, with special preparations, you may travel for a +hundred hours, night and day, without halt save for change of relays. +Physically, it is possible to fight cold for a time. You can run along +in all your furs beside the horses, you can beat your arms together, +and rub nose and cheeks to keep the blood in motion. You can drink +copious glasses of scalding tea in the post-houses, and live by +stimulants on the road. Through ceaseless vigilance and resolution +you can keep from freezing, even while intense fatigue creeps on and +vitality is going. But the persistent awful shudder is Nature’s red +lantern. Run past it if you must,--it is at your peril. + +Dark against the snows, now a low-lying village comes into +sight,--Nijniouboukounskaia,--and among its first log houses is one +bearing the post-horn signboard. A cry rouses the jaded horses to +a gallop, and covered with snow, the sledge sweeps into the yard. +Steaming and frosted white, the animals stand with lowered heads. +Stablemen run to unharness them. Stiff with cold and muffled like a +mummy, you clamber out, and on unsteady legs mount the steps to the +felted door of the posting-inn. In the big bare room, beside the warm +oven, robes and overcoats can be thrown off. A red-capped girl loads +the samovar with glowing brands from the fire, and sets it humming for +tea. Brown bread is produced and eggs, and a great bowl of warm milk. +With these, and the contents of your bag of provisions, can be eked out +a welcome _obeid_. + +For the night’s rest one need not seek a bed. There is never a spring +to ease the bones from Verhneudinsk to Kiahta. There was discovered +just once on the journey--at Arbouzarskie--an iron skeleton, bearing +to a spring bed about the relation that the three-toed Pleistocene +prairie trotter holds to a modern horse. The post-keeper had carefully +hewn with his axe five pine planks to cover the gaunt limbs of it. The +voyageur slept on the soft side of these timbers. Bed and board are +synonyms in Siberia. + +For a couch there is to-night the narrow wooden law-provided bench, +or--a less precarious perch, and equally resilient--the sanded floor. +For bedding, one has one’s own blankets and coats. What if the shoulder +slept on numbs with one’s weight, or the corner of the soap-box in the +traveling-bag, serving as a pillow, dents the tired head! One draws off +felt boots and some of the outer layers of clothes, rolls the sheepskin +about one, covers the head with a blanket, and sleeps like the forest +bears in their winter dens. + +Just before daybreak is the best time to start, so that one can cover +the most road possible while the sun is up. At ten or eleven, an +hour’s stop for lunch is advisable, and then on again until sundown. +It is better not to travel after nightfall, as the cold is so much +more intense. We dedicate the evening to hot tea, and then turn to the +blankets and the bench. + +The stretch between Verhneudinsk and Troitzkosavsk, officially rated +at two hundred and eighteen versts, is really somewhat longer. A +run of average record took from 4:20 P.M. Tuesday to 11:30 A.M. +Thursday--forty-three hours and ten minutes. This included all +relaying, seven hours a night for sleeping, dinner and breakfast halts, +two accidents (an overturning and a broken runner), and one calamity--a +Siberian who snored. The actual driving-time, over a road for the most +part hilly, was twenty-two hours, five minutes, or just about ten +versts per hour. + +Horses stand always ready, with special men at hand to harness. Drivers +swing on their shaggy greatcoats, and with almost no loss of time one +is out of the shadowed courtyard and on the road again in the dazzling +whiteness of the winter day. + +In traveling “post,” however, with relayed sleighs and big empty +guest-rooms, one does not become acquainted with the life along the +way. One has only hurried glimpses of slant-eyed Buriat tribesmen, of +galloping Cossacks, trudging peasants, post-agents, girls who carry in +samovars and silently steal out, rosy-cheeked boys on the streets, +and women at the house-windows. To know the people and see their daily +life one must get away from the beaten highroad, strike out from the +government-regulated inns, and blaze one’s own path into the interior. + +First, you get a low passenger-sledge, long enough to admit of +stretching out, and without too many projecting nails on the inside; +then, three good ponies of the hardy Cossack breed, that are never +curried or taken into a stable through the bitterest winter. The best +animals procurable are none too good for climbing the passes away from +the river-courses. The whole outfit can be bought for three hundred +roubles in any of the interior towns. + +For drivers, there is a class of _yamshik_ teamsters, who spend their +lives guiding the sledge-caravans which carry the local traffic. One +of these men, Ivan Kurbski, can guide you through a whole province, +and lodge you every evening with some hospitable friend or recommended +host. Whether he has himself been over all the changing by-paths in +the wilderness of the Zabaikalskaia Oblast, or whether he mentally +photographs the directions of his friends regarding each village, is an +unsolved mystery. + +[Illustration: SLEDGING SOUTHWARDS] + +When the day’s journey is done, Ivan will drive slowly down the crooked +street of the village he has settled upon for the night’s repose, +looking keenly for landmarks visible only to him in this country, where +every village and every house is mate to all the rest. Sometimes he +will ask a question of one of the innumerable urchins. But generally +he seems of himself to hit upon the desired domicile. Day after day +he will take you the sixty versts, lead you to the village stores to +replenish the supply of candles or sugar, bring you surely to food and +shelter at night, and take off all the burden of care for the outcome +of each day’s journey. + +If for the third member of your personal suite you can get an old-time +servant to keep the guns clean, build the camp-fires when midday tea +is to be taken out of doors, bring in the baggage and rally the best +resources of each halting-place, you are doubly lucky. You will be +sedulously tended, and be treated partly as a prince, partly as a +helpless baby. + +Of this order is Jacov Titoff. Not the smallest personal service that +he can render will you be permitted to do for yourself. The telling +of unpleasant truths will be carefully avoided, however certain the +ultimate revelation. Though honest beyond question, he pays you the +naïve compliment of relying upon your generosity in all the little +matters that concern provisions and petty luxuries. He will open the +package which he is carrying back from the _torgovlia_ to extract +matches and cigarettes for his own delectation, and will rifle +unstintingly the reserve of canned _sardinki_. He cheerfully freezes +himself waiting for deer, and stumbles up miles of snowy mountain +in the beats. He is always in good humor, and without complaint for +whatever comes. He is ready anywhere, at any time, to sleep or drink +vodka. + +Thus outfitted and manned, take your place, muffled in furs, and seated +on the felt sleeping-blankets. Guns are at your side, the bag of +provisions is in front, your own little ponies paw the snow. They start +off now, trotting and galloping beneath the _duga_. The air is frosty, +clear, and thrilling as wine; the snow is feathery and uncrusted, as +when it fell months back; bells are jingling, and the driver is crying +his alternate endearments and curses upon the shaggy ponies. Down the +long rock-flanked river valleys, amid birch and pine forests, you will +skim, by unwonted paths, through out-of-the-world villages, to see in +their own homes the red-bloused peasants, the women spinning at the +wheel, the peddlers and priests, the traveling Mohammedan doctors, the +rough Buriats, miners and merchants, along the white way. + +The smooth main road is left now for newly broken sledge-trails across +fields and over snow-covered marshland. Every available river is +utilized as a highway, for along its winding length the path, smooth +and level, is marked like a boulevard by the evergreen saplings planted +by villagers to guide the winter traveler. One can pierce the districts +flanking the Chickoya’s gorges, reachable at other seasons only by +breakneck climbs. And one can see the real Siberia. + +On this first night of his incumbency, Ivan Kurbski lodges us with +friends. He leaves us for a moment while he enters the yard by the +wicket-gate to make due announcement, and the ponies hang their tired +frost-covered heads. Your own bows under an equal fatigue. But the wait +is very brief. Soon the big double gates of the log-stockaded courtyard +open. The horses of their own accord turn in, and swing up to the steps +of the house. You are handed out like an invalid grand duke, and are +welcomed at the threshold, with a hard hand-shake, by a red-bloused +peasant who ushers you up the steps, across the low-eaved portico, and +through the square felt-padded door into the big living-room. + +As we all enter, Ivan and Jacov, caps in hand, bow and make the sign +of the cross toward the grouped ikons high up in the corner opposite +the door. The saints have guarded you on the way--are not thanks +the devoir? Then you, as head of the party, must salute, with a +“_Zdravstvouitie_,” your host, the old _Hazan_ father of the peasant +who, wearing a gray blouse sprayed with vivid flowers at breast and +wrists, sits on a bench beside the window. Now you may sit down beside +the massive table on the other bench, which is built along the whole +length of the log walls, and survey the curious world into which you +have fallen. + +A woman of middle age, clad in bright red, is busy with a long hoe-like +instrument pushing pots into a great square oven six feet high, ten +feet to a side, and spotlessly whitewashed. To her right, in the +room beside the oven, is a girl of fifteen or sixteen, rolling brown +rye-dough on a little table, in perilous proximity to a trap-door +leading into some dark nether region. An old bent woman gravitates +between the two. Glancing up, one meets the wondering eyes of three +sleepy blinking urchins, who peer down in solemn interest from a big +cushion-covered shelf, two feet beneath the ceiling. Looking about to +locate the muffled sound of crows and clucks, one discovers, beneath +the oven, a corral of chickens, pecking with perky bills at the +whitewash for lime. On the floor is sitting a little girl crooning some +endless refrain to a baby in a sapling-swung cradle. + +“The _gaspadine_ will take _chai_?” asks the patriarch. From the +woman’s room beside the oven the girl brings a samovar. She sets it on +the floor, beside an earthenware jar standing near the door, and dips +out the water to fill it. Then with tongs she takes a long red ember +from a niche cut in the side of the oven, and drops it down the samovar +funnel. Round loaves of frozen rye-bread are brought out and set to +thaw. A plate of eggs is produced from the cellar. One rolls off as +the girl passes, and falls to the floor. Instinctively you start. Not +so the others. The egg has dropped like a stone and rolled away. But +it is quietly picked up and put to boil with the rest. It is frozen so +solidly that there is not even a crack on the shell. + +Jacov meanwhile is making earnest inquiry of the “old one.” + +“How are your cows, Dimitri Ivan’ich? Your horses, are they well? And +your sheep? All well? And have you had good crops? Is there still +plenty of pasture-land in this village? _Good!_ GOOD!--and how is your +wife?” + +Poor withered wife; she is bustling around looking after the children, +and trying to help her daughter-in-law. Not so the “old one,” the +ancient man of the family to whom these courteous questions are +addressed. The patriarch stopped his labors at fifty, and sits +slumbering away his second prospective half-century in honored +idleness. “Everybody works but father!” + +The samovar is humming now, and the table is decked with a +homespun-linen cloth ready for the _obeid_. The first formality, as +dinner is about to begin, must be observed. The various members of the +family turn, one after another, toward the ikons, reverently crossing +themselves. Then the host produces a bottle of a colorless liquid, +shakes it up and down, and brings the bottom sharply against his palm. +The cork shoots out, and he pours into a little glass a drink of the +national beverage, vodka, which one is supposed to swallow at a gulp. + +Every time a guest enters, a bottle of vodka is brought out, costing +49¼ kopecks, half the average day-laborer’s pay in this district. On +feast-days the visitors go from house to house drinking,--and these +_prasdniks_ number some fifty-two days in the Russian year. Every +business deal is baptized with vodka. Every family festival, the +return of a son from the army, the marriage of a daughter,--all are +vodka-soaked. As one passes through villages on a saint’s day, he +may meet a dozen reeling figures and hear the maudlin songs from the +courtyards where the men have gathered. The part played by vodka in the +people’s life is appalling. + +In the house now, all, beginning with the “old one,” partake of this +stimulant, solemnly gulping down their fiery potions. Then the family +sits down in due rank and order, the “old one” in the cosiest corner, +with the samovar convenient to his hand. You, as the guest, are beside +him on the bench that lines the wall, then comes Jacov, next the son, +then Ivan Kurbski the _yamshik_, and on stools along the inner side of +the table, the grandmother and assorted infants. The mother alternates +between the table and the oven. + +The samovar is tapped for tea as the first course of the evening. For +all who come, tea is the obligatory offering, in a cup if the visitor +be familiar, but for special honor in a glass with a ragged lump of +sugar hammered from a big cone-shaped loaf. This one nibbles as he +drinks, for sugar is a luxury, not to be used extravagantly. The brown +rye-bread, which has been thawed at the gaping oven-door, is next +brought out, and raw blubber-like fat pork, in little squares, eaten +as butter, and boiled potatoes, and the boiled eggs, curdled from the +freezing. + +At Little Christmas, the _prasdnik_ day which comes in early January, +_pelmenis_, or dumplings, egg-patties (grease-cooked), and meat will +be served, with cranberries and white bread. In Butter-Week everybody +gorges on buttered _blinnies_, or pancakes, garnished with sour cream. +Even a substance showing rudimentary traces of a common ancestry with +cake may be produced. + +As the shadows of the northern evening close down, a piece of candle +is lighted to-night in our honor. Generally the burning brands for the +samovar, propped in a niche cut at the height of a man’s shoulder in +the outer edge of the oven, throw the only light. Presently the candle +is used up and the brands give a fitful flame, leaving the corners +black as Erebus. + +From the baby’s cradle comes now a plaintive cry, and one of the little +girls goes over to dandle it. Up and down, to and fro, for hours +together she works, singing her monotonous lullaby. The children, who +have been lifted down from their eyrie above the oven, play on the +sanded floor. The men remain oblivious and smoke their pipes, letting +fall an occasional word, which comes forth muffled from their great +beards. + +Ox-like, all sit for a while, sipping occasional cups of tea. Then the +woman and the girl go out and get wood, remove the pots from inside the +oven, and build up a roaring fire. The children are rolled up for sleep +in their little blankets on the floor. The men reach for their furs and +felts. They go to the left of the oven, the women to the right, and +the children are between, making a long row in front of the fire. Soon +all are sunk in heavy sleep. The little girl alone sits up to rock the +baby. As you doze off in the genial warmth of the newly-stoked oven she +is still crooning her lullaby in the dim fitful light of the firebrands. + +Through the long night all lie like logs. Toward morning, as the oven’s +heat dies down and the bitter cold creeps in, sleep becomes uneasy. One +stirs and then another. Finally the woman rises and wakes the girl, and +they go out into the cold for wood and water. Presently the men bestir +themselves, get up, and wait for their tea. The rising sun of another +day casts its rays through the windows. + +As the sleepers one by one arise and stretch, their blankets are folded +by the watchful woman of the house, and thrust up on the children’s +shelf. Some of the men go across the room and let the water from the +little brass can in the corner trickle over their hands. Some do not do +even this. + +For the outlander of washing proclivities, peculiar problems are +offered by a country of no wash-bowls, no soap, only occasional towels, +and the tea samovar as the only source of hot water, a copious draft +on which not only postpones breakfast but compels some of the women of +the family to go out and chop ice for a new supply. Necessity evolves +the tea-tumbler toilet method as our solution. You borrow one of the +precious tea-glasses from the old woman, fill it to overflowing with +warm water from the samovar, and prop it up on the window-sill. The top +inch of water is absorbed into a sponge which is put aside for future +use. Into the remaining two and a half inches a soaped handkerchief is +dipped, with which one washes one’s face, touching tenderly the spots +recently frozen. The reserved sponge will do to rinse off the detritus +of this first operation. Two and a quarter inches of water are left, of +which half an inch may be poured over the tooth-brush. With an inch and +three quarters left, one has ample to lather for a shave, as well as to +wet the nail-brush which is to scrub one’s hands that will be rinsed +with the sponge. Half an inch remains finally to clean the brushes and +razors. “There you are!” With two glasses one may have a bath. + +When the breakfast of rye-bread and tea is ended, the men go out to +their various winter tasks, of which the most serious is felling trees +in the forests, cutting them up, and getting home the wood. The women +keep stolidly at their cooking, cleaning, child-tending, and turn to +the spinning-wheel and hand-loom when other work does not press. + +In the weeks that follow, each night brings us to a different home, +but never to a changed environment or atmosphere. This type of life is +found, not only among the Trans-Baikal peasantry, but throughout all +Siberia. The log houses down the long straggly village streets look out +upon the same wooden-walled courtyards,--the women peering from their +little windows as the sleighs jingle past. The same ikons with burning +lamps look down as you enter; the same whitewashed oven and shelf and +cradle are there as you push open the felted door. The women of each +district wear the same traditional costume. The bearded host produces +the same vodka. One of the most impressive sights, when one drives out +before dawn into the frosty air, is to see at almost the same moment +from every chimney the black smoke roll upwards, then dwindle to a +thin gray streak. Each woman has risen and heaped green wood into the +cooking-oven. It is as if one will actuated simultaneously all the +people. + +At places the master of the house has a trade, shoemaking or saddlery, +and the big living-room is littered with pieces of leather and waxed +cord as he stitches. Sometimes there are hunters in the family, and +ancient flintlock muskets rest on the antlered trophies. The men gather +together occasionally to drive deer. But in general, as the winter is +the men’s idle time, a little wood is cut, the cattle are seen to, and +for the rest, talk, tea, and tobacco, until it is time to eat and sleep +once more. The women on the other hand seem to be always occupied, but +they are not discontented. + +[Illustration: PEASANT VILLAGE STOREKEEPER SIBERIAN TYPES] + +The customs and institutions which bind together the household group +are unique. In all families the _Hazan_ is supreme. To him first of +all, strangers pay their respects. To him every member of the household +comes for advice as to whom he or she shall marry, and which calf +shall be sold. Howsoever hard of hearing he may be, there is related +to him all the events of the neighborhood with infinite minuteness. He +is the repository of all moneys earned by logging for a neighboring +mine-owner, or for bringing out to the railroad the sledge-loads of +rye. As head of the family he can summon a forty-year-old son from the +merchant’s counter in Krasnoyarsk, or his nephew from the fur-traffic +in Irkutsk, and bid him return to his peasant hut. If a grandson wishes +to go to Nerchinsk to seek his fortune, the “old one’s” consent must +be obtained before the youth receives his passport. It is all at the +patriarch’s sovereign pleasure. + +We come one day upon a vexatious example of this ancestral authority. A +report reaches us, by chance, of a hibernating bear’s hole some fifty +versts away, which one of the peasants has located. The host, noting +our interest, asks:-- + +“Would the _gaspadine_ like to hunt him?” + +There is no question on this score, so the peasant is quickly brought +to the hut. Numerous friends crowd in with him, for one person’s +business is everybody’s business in these primitive communities. For a +liberal equivalent in roubles the man agrees to act as guide, and the +start is to be made early next morning. All is arranged and he goes out +with his body-guard to make the necessary preparations. By and by there +is a stir. Our sledge-driver comes in with a long face. Then half a +dozen peasants add themselves to the family quota in the hut. Soon more +come, until the stifling room is as populous as a Mir Assembly. They +are all talking at once, and there is a great hubbub. At length one +voice louder than the rest seems to call a decision for them all. They +turn backward again, and with many gesticulations bustle through the +felted doors into the snowy streets, and through the village to a house +which they enter in a body as if with intent of sacking it. Instead +they bring out and over to our hut a slight bearded old man, bent with +the weight of many winters--the father of the peasant guide. + +Humble but resolute, he faces the assembly. + +“No, I cannot consent that he lead the _gaspadine_ to the Medvetch Dom.” + +“But assure the ‘old one’ that his son will only point out the den and +then go away.” + +The “old one” answers:-- + +“The bear does not come to steal my pigs. Why should I get him shot? +Besides, a bear chewed up three Buriats last year. It would be sad to +be devoured even for the _gaspadine’s_ fifty roubles.” + +The reward is doubled, and forty kopecks’ worth of vodka produced. Many +advisers give aid, and one suggests that “the son may mount a tree one +hundred _sagenes_ from the mansion of the bear!” + +But still the father refuses. “No, I will not allow him to take out his +horse and hunting-sledge.” + +The son, whose half-dozen full-grown children are looking on, shakes +his head dolefully. A big eagle-nosed peasant, of hunting proclivities, +comes in. + +“I will give my hunting-sleigh if he will go,” he calls. + +But the shrill voice of the “old one” rings out again, “I do not +consent. I do not consent. My son shall not go to the mansion of the +bear.” + +The guide shrugs his shoulders. We have hit the ledge of Russian +authority. No one will budge. The old man has his way. + +As is the management of the household, so is that of the village. While +the _Hazan_ rules over the common property of the family (_izba_), +the village elder (_Selski Starosta_) is guardian over the grouped +households which make up the Mir. As the household goods belong to no +one individual, but are common property, so the land farmed by the +villagers is a joint possession whose title rests with the commune. The +family is held for the debts and behavior of all of its individuals; +and similarly, with certain limitations, the village community is +answerable for the taxes and discipline of each of its members. + +On a humble scale it is the spirit of socialism incarnate. Within the +commune no capitalistic employers, no wage-taking worker-class, no +castes exist, and no individuals are born with special privileges. No +distinctions of rank or fortune lift some above their fellows. The +manner of living is the same for all. Each head of a family has a right +of vote, and elects by the freest, simplest means his own judges and +village rulers. The land, the source of livelihood, is divided among +the producers by their own unfettered suffrage. + +The chief man of the community--he who drums out the voters to the +Mir, lists those who do not work sufficiently on the pope’s field, +and reports the toll of taxes to the Government--is simply an elderly +peasant clothed with a little brief authority. There is no household +in the average village which is looked up to as more genteel than the +rest. No such distinctions as prevail in America will reveal that such +a farmer’s family is musical and well-read, such another has traveled +to Niagara Falls, such a third has blue-ribbon sheep. In Russian +peasant circles all is equality, almost identity. + +Here is presented the best example in the world to-day of an applied +system based upon the communistic as opposed to the individualistic +theory. It is therefore of more than local interest. Most apparent +of all results is the economic stagnation which has accompanied the +elimination of special rewards for special efforts. The man, more +daring or more far-sighted than his fellows, who would take for himself +the risk of a new enterprise, who would mortgage his house to buy a +reaper, or would seek a farther market, is fettered by his plodding +neighbors. His financial obligations, if he fail, fall on the others of +a common family, whose members have a veto on his freedom of action. +His own and his neighbor’s fields by the allotment are proportioned +in extent to the old hand-labor standard. A machine has few to serve +until the fields are readjusted to a new standard. While technically +a man may buy or rent lands outside the commune and may introduce a +new rotation of crops or agricultural tools, actually the inertia of +the peasants bound to him by the brotherhood of the Mir weighs the +adventurous one hopelessly to the earth. Who can persuade an assembly +of bearded conservatism-steeped “old ones” to buy for the Mir the +costly new machines? Perhaps, with the visible demonstration of profits +which private enterprise could make under an individual régime, the +doubting elders might consent. But who is there to show them when every +village checks back the swift to the lock-step of the clod? + +Nor is it simply in material things that communism manifests its +lotus-fruit in these country hamlets. Ignorance, unashamed, broods +over them one and all. What a dead level is revealed by the fact that +one peasant in a populous village on the Chickoya, our guide upon a +shooting-trip, could not tell time by a watch, and had never seen such +an invention. + +Some instances are related where the more ambitious men of a Mir have +clubbed together to bring in a teacher at their own expense. The +Semieski, or “Old Believers,” big, red-bearded, obstinate men, settled +in Urluck in the Zabaikal, who dissent from the sixteenth-century +revisions of Bishop Nikon, will not send children to Slavonic schools +and may have schools of their own. But these cases are rare. There +is among the peasantry almost no education and comparatively little +desire for it, yet how far this sentiment is from being a racial +or national failing the crowds that come to the city universities +bear ample witness. In one of the villages a teacher from Chita is +established in the side room of a peasant’s house, wherein one night +we sojourn. He has been appointed by the Commissioner of Schools +of the Cossack Government. He is of a good Nerchinsk family and is +brother to an elector of delegates to the second Duma. He is one of +the “Intellectuals”--the student class which forms almost a caste +by itself. A free-thinker, keenly interested in the rights of man, +a Social Democrat by politics, he goes shooting on Sunday with some +peasant cronies. He plays Russian airs on his _balilika_ and gets the +peasant’s daughter to dance for the guest. He produces specimens of +antimony and chalcopyrite, and discusses the geological probability of +finding silver or platinum ores in these districts. Photographs of the +amateur-kodak variety are along the walls, and on a table in the corner +are a mandolin and a pile of books. We pick up a volume,--“L’Évolution +de la Moralité,” by Charles Letourneau. The young owner, who consumes +a prodigious number of Moscow cigarettes, tells of the indifference to +education among the people. + +“Here we have a school in a big village, with two other communities +near by. There are easily five hundred households,--with how many +children in each, you can see. Yet we have but thirty boys at school. +What can we do?” + +He is discouraged, this single “Intellectual” of Gotoi. Profoundly +solicitous for the future, an idealist, boundless in hopes for the good +of his race, he sees the younger generation submerged at the threshold +of opportunity by the inertia of the old. + +“‘What good will it do for him to read?’ ask the peasants, when I urge, +‘Send your boy to the school.’ What can I say? The boy comes from my +class after two years, and goes out with the men. He has no money to +buy books if he wants them. No newspapers come to the village, no +printed matter whatever, save that on the pictures which they buy in +the fairs. In a few years all I have taught is forgotten. The darkness +is over these villages. One must lift them despite themselves.” + +Beyond the range of the village communes, no people show a more eager +zeal for knowledge and study. In the cities almost all of the younger +generation can read and write. The school-boys, with their big black +ear-covering caps, smart blue coats, brightened with rows of brass +buttons, and knapsacks of books, are one’s regular morning sight. +“Realistic” and “Materialistic” schools are established in many towns. + +The apathy of the rural element is to be laid at the door of the system +which hinders those within the confines of the communes from reaping +the fruits of special sacrifice and effort. No one attempts to raise +himself in the Mir, where the dead weight of those bound to him is so +hopeless. If any boy, brighter than the rest, follow some lodestar, +it must be to a city. The aspirant must bury ambition, or leave the +drudging Mir with its toll of taxes and recruits. He will not study law +before the wood-fire as did Lincoln in his log cabin. + +The cloud of deadening communism over their lives utters itself in +the words continuously on the peasants’ tongues. It is the northern +equivalent for that buttress of despotism--“_mañana_.” The possibility +of the Russian condition is “_nietchevo!_” If the red cock (_krasnai +petuk_) has crowed and has left the forty householders with charred +embers where stood their homes, “_nietchevo!_” They build it up of wood +and straw, with the oven chimney passing through as before. Does a +raging toothache torture, “It is the will of God,--_nietchevo_!” If the +weary day’s climb sees a gameless evening, “_nietchevo!_” If the son is +frozen in the troop-train, “_nietchevo!_” If the Little Father send to +Yakutsk the other one who has gone to the city, “_nietchevo!_” Is the +unrevised tax for a family of ten men pressing down upon three, “It has +got to be borne,--_nietchevo!_” It is this bowing to fate as a thing +begotten of the gods, when it is a force to be fought here on earth; +the long-taught submission to evil, when evil is to be conquered, to +limitation when opportunity is to be won,--it is this spirit which is +holding rural Russia still in her Dark Ages. + +The origin of the present village-system goes back to the time of +serfage, when the overlord held his dependents herded together for +easy ruling. That it extended to unfettered Siberia, where the rewards +of individual effort were so obvious, cannot be laid entirely to old +custom or government compulsion. Nor is it to be explained by the early +necessity for protection against wild beasts or hostile natives. The +same dangers threatened the pioneers of our own country. Perhaps the +Russian spirit of gregariousness lies at the root of the fact that in +the Czar’s domains the peasant lives away from his fields to be near +his neighbors, while our people live away from their neighbors to be +near their fields. Whatever the cause, the outcome is that practically +the whole rural population, even in the most thinly settled districts, +is gathered into villages, and owns the lands in common. + +The system makes enormously for homogeneity, welding, solidarity. The +people are a “mass.” Units are lost in unity. Nothing save Nature’s +imprint and law of individuality, that decree under which every created +thing is some way different from every other, keeps the Russian peasant +from quite losing his birthright. The commune, vodka, and resignation +are the incubi of Siberia. In the towns and cities gather the energetic +natures that have climbed out and above them. What these have done, +their allied people--the peasants--can do. Beyond the horizon of the +latter’s narrow lives lies still the borderland of possibilities. One +cannot doubt the vigor of the stock, nor the certainty of its rise. +This quality of rugged worth is the basis of all the great advance that +the pioneers and the city populations have made. It is only in the +Mirs, frozen fast in their lethargy of communism, that resurrection +seems such a far-off dream. The way is long for the peasants of +Siberia--long and toilsome. But their vast patience is allied to as +vast a courage, and both will lift them into the larger day. + +The measure passed by the last Duma, decreeing the division of the Mir +lands in severalty, and private ownership of property, will be one of +the most momentous and far-reaching enactments ever legislated for a +people. It should end for rural Russia the stagnation, and open an era +of mighty endeavor and achievement. + +There are many races here among the serenely tolerant Siberians, +undiscriminated against and uncoerced. While one of the Orthodox may +not abjure the state religion without severe punishment, those born to +an alien faith are unmolested by official or proselyting pope. “God has +given them their faith as he has given us ours,” is the Russian rule. + +This medley of races beneath the Russian banners gives to one’s +earliest contact the conception of a heterogeneous disorganized jumble +of nations and peoples. But closer acquaintance impresses upon one +the dominating and surviving qualities innate in the Slav, whose +unalterable solidarity is beneath and behind the kaleidoscopic types +of aboriginal tribes and exiled sectarians. By race-absorption, like +that which has evolved Celts, Danes, Saxon, and Norsemen into English; +British, Dutch, Swedes, Germans and Italians into Americans, the Slav +is dissolving, transmuting to his own type and moulding to his own +institutions the varied peoples. + +Though the heterogeneous blood adds to the total of Siberian country +life, it is the Slavic race that determines the permanent order of +this great land. Primarily too it is the peasantry who shape its +destiny. Their possibilities are the limit of Russia’s ascent. Their +condition is therefore of far deeper than sightseeing interest to the +student. Unlike the picturesque peasantry of Holland, here they are the +foundations of the state, forming not an insignificant minority but +ninety per cent of the population. + +Somewhat of a new spirit flickers here and there in Siberian hamlets. +The peasant is superior to his Russian brother. The traditions of +serfdom were broken by his severance from the old environment, and +wider lands give him an abundance unknown save in a few favored parts +of Europe. The political exiles have through the centuries added an +upsurge of independence and personal self-consciousness, which is +markedly higher than the Oriental humility of Occidental Russia. + +The influence of the criminal, as distinct from the political convict, +is felt primarily in the cities, such as Irkutsk and Vladivostok, to +which the time-expired men drift. The convict element is always met +with. It has been customary to billet a condemned, who was not wanted +at home, upon some out-of-the-way village, giving him a passport for +its confines alone. The victim might have been a Moscow professor or +a locomotive engineer, but in the Mir he must farm the land given +him. Naturally such seed as this planted in Siberian hamlets does not +produce the traditional peasant faith in God and the Czar so faithfully +preached by the popes. + +Another influence making for upheaval is the returning recruit. We +are in a peasant house when a _soldat_ comes back to the family from +his service. If he has not brought any great burden of salary, he has +accumulated tales enough of the outer world to hold in breathless +excitement the circle of friends and relatives which gathers at once +when the tinkling sleigh-bells and the barking have announced to the +village his return. + +Far down the street is heard the jingle of his sledge. It brings every +girl to her peep-hole window, and every boy from his sawing to the +courtyard door. At the gateway where the newcomer turns in, he is +heralded by the commotion of the household guardians, wolf-like in +appearance and nature. Everybody within the important house runs to the +door. The village knows now which family is making local history. The +arrival is accompanied already by two or three men who have recognized +him as he descends. He tramps in with military firmness of tread, +head erect. Before he greets the grandfather even, he makes the sign +of the cross to the holy ikons, and, bowing down, touches his lips +to the floor. Then comes the respectful kiss to the old man, next to +the mother, while the younger brother, soon to go to service himself, +stands awkwardly by, and the little children look half-dubiously at a +form scarcely known after his four years of absence. + +Then there is a scurrying of the grown and half-grown daughters to +prepare _chai_ and to produce the _pelmenis_ and brown bread. The +villagers drift in one by one, cross themselves, and speak their +greetings, until the little house is packed, and as hot as the +steam-room of a _banno_. The vodka-bottle is out and everybody has +settled down for an indefinite stay. The soldier’s tales of war and +garrison duty and government and revolution hold the family and the +audience breathless through the long evening. As you drop asleep, the +hero is still reciting and gesticulating. The guests in departing will +be careful not to stumble over you, so _nietchevo_. + +In one of the houses where we put up, a shop adjoins the big +living-room. It has dingy recesses from which hatchets and the commoner +farm utensils can be produced, shelves of homespun cloth, and gaudy +cottons for the men’s blouses, and beads for the women’s bonnets. +Here, as in the country-stores of our own land, during the long idle +winter days there is always a crowd and endless discussion of the +village events,--the health of each other’s cows, births, marriages, +deaths, drafts into the army, taxes. Even in this remoteness something +of the echo of great Russia’s struggle is heard over the shopkeeper’s +tea-cups. We hum, unthinking, a bar of _Die Beide Grenadier_, in which +a refrain of the _Marseillaise_ occurs. + +A peasant looks quickly up. “It is not allowed, that song,” he says. + +“Why not?” + +“That is the song of the strikers.” + +“But the _gaspadine_ is a foreigner. He may sing it.” + +“Yes,” says the peasant, “he may sing it, but I may not. Would that I +might!” + +One meets quaint characters in this inland journeying--veteran soldiers +of the Turkestan advance; “_sabbato_ sectarians,” who keep Saturday +holy rather than Sunday; austere “Old Believers,” traveling peddlers, +teamsters who have tramped beside their ponies over three provinces. +One comes upon peripatetic Mussulman doctors, in snug-fitting black +coats and small black skull-caps, who show their Arabic-worded +road-maps and much-thumbed medical works bound in worn leather. Beside +their plates at table the kindly hostess puts piles of leathery bread, +unleavened, and made without lard in deference to their caste rules. + +[Illustration: PEASANT TYPES] + +A shop in one village is kept by a Chinaman, who, lettered like most +of his race, seems a far shrewder and more intellectual person than +the uneducated Russian peasants. He invites the stranger to drink +tea that his special caravan brings, and presents Chinese candy with +the courtesy of a grandee. When, in reciprocity, the traveler buys +sugar for his _chai_, he receives it wrapped in paper covered with +hieroglyphics and exhaling the faint unmistakable Chinese odor. + +Going always southward, one begins to meet more and more frequently +the villages of the Mongol-descended Buriats. “_Bratskie_” (brotherly +people), the Russians call them, for despite the forbidding aspect +that flat Mongolian features, high thin noses, yellow-brown skins, and +big squat bodies give them, no more peaceful, harmless, and hospitable +people exist. They are great and fearless hunters, unexcelled riders, +and though still only on the threshold of civilization, are rapidly +moving to better things. + +All phases of the advance from the nomad to the agricultural stage may +be studied among them. The pastoral Buriats, decorated like the Chinese +with queues, ride around after their flocks. Their villages lie far +away from the lines of convoys, unmarked on the Ministry map, which one +is supposed to be following. Each family occupies a little windowless +wooden hut, some fifteen feet in diameter. In front of it is planted +a pole, carrying at the top a weather-faded pennant, the colors of +which in Buriat heraldry indicate the tribe and name of the occupant. +Behind the hut are stacks of hay and a wooden corral with sheep and +horses. Beside it stands the summer tent, of felt, looking like a great +inverted bowl. It is empty in winter, save for a shrine with grotesque +pictured gods, fronted by offerings. + +In the homes of these least advanced Buriats we loiter no longer than +we must. The wooden house which shelters them is hermetically sealed, +and is crowded with people and animals. Fenced off in a corner of +the first that receives us is a corral of thirteen lambs, which at +uncertain moments begin to bleat suddenly in unison, producing, with +startling effect, a prodigious volume of sound. When one has been +roused from sleep half a dozen times a night by this chorus, he is +strongly inspired to move on. The men are out during the day looking to +their flocks. The women spend a good part of their time sewing furs or +making felt. They are very unclean, and it is a decided relief to get +out of their homes, to which the cold compels one to have recourse on +a long journey. In spring, with great and understandable relief, these +semi-nomads take to their felt tents and move where fancy and pasturage +dictate. + +One grade higher are those Buriats who have learned some rudimentary +farming from the Orthodox. You will see the men threshing on a level +floor beside the corral. They are dressed in long blue or magenta +fur-lined cloaks and colored cone-shaped hats. Other Buriats are +permanently resident in the Slavonic settlements, and send their +rosy-faced children to school. They mix with the Russians, subject to +almost no disabilities, and their better classes contract inter-racial +marriages, which seem, to an outsider, at least, completely happy and +successful. + +It is no small thing, this which Russian rule has done for the Buriats. +A people whom any other nation would spurn in racial ostracism, perhaps +would eliminate, live side by side with the good-natured Slav in +perfect accord, progressing in civilization and material well-being as +high as the individual can aspire to and attain. + +They are ruled by their own chiefs, whose sway is tempered by the +benevolent supervision of the general government. They are represented +in the Duma by men of their own selection. They freely worship the +Buddhist Burhan in their lamasery near Cellinginsk, without pope to +preach or missionary to proselyte. Their easy citizenship is unharassed +by money taxes, and their only obligation is Cossack service in the +army. But Cossack service to a Buriat is what a picnic is to a boy. +Riding around on horseback, rationed by the Government, visiting a +city with real tobacco and vodka sometimes attainable, sleeping on a +straw-stuffed mattress with no tethered lambs to murder sleep, when +they are used to a sheepskin on the dirt floor,--all this is luxury of +blissful memory, during the years of the reserve. The net result is +that the Buriats are entirely content. They are progressing all along +the line, and are being made useful to the nation, not by unpayable +taxation, but by the service which they are so especially fitted to +render. + +As one nears Chinese territory, by the lower waters of the Chickoya +River, the villages of Slavic colonists who hold their land on +tax-paying peasant tenure, have given place to the Buriat tribesmen +and to the _stanitzas_ of the Cossack guard that occupy the pale of +land flanking the frontier. Within this border-belt, every village +_stanitza_ holds its quota of Cossacks. These soldiers are for the +most part descendants of the levies from the Don region, transplanted +to the Trans-Baikal by the Government’s despotic hand in the +eighteenth century, and since then forming an hereditary military +caste. Many of them are bearded Slavs, indistinguishable, save for +their accoutrements, from their more peaceful neighbors. Others +are of a peculiar cast of countenance, due to the mixture with the +Asiatic tribes in ancient times, when the hunted people fled to their +ancestors’ asylum, the territories beyond the Volga and on the Don. +There is great variation in type among the imported Cossacks. Most are +Orthodox, but a very large number are “Old Believers,” or Semieski. In +all the houses now hang the yellow cap and the uniform coat, which must +be ever ready against the call of duty. Arms are in the corners of the +rooms, and everything has a military look, in marked contrast to the +peasant homes. Crude, highly-colored prints of Japanese defeats, which +circulated broadcast in Russia during the war, share the attention +usually devoted exclusively to holy ikons. Portraits of Generals +Linevitch and Kuropatkin, and Admiral Alexiev, are tacked to the +walls. In one house we saw hanging a prized silver watch, one of those +distributed by General Rennenkamp among the soldiers of his command. + +One of our Cossack hosts is an old man, Orthodox, and of Russian +origin, but with some ancient Asiatic blood, for only a stringy beard +grows on his kindly, wrinkled face. With reluctant pride he tells of +his three sons away on service, leaving but himself and two daughters +at home. With frank happiness he shows you his medals. Every soldier at +the front received a round brass service-medal; his, however, a silver +cross with St. George and the Dragon on it, is given for valor. He will +not drink the vodka he offers you,--rheumatism. But in order that you +may smoke some alleged tobacco that greatly interests him because he +gathered it himself by the roadside, in Manchuria, he starts up his +pipe despite the dust-induced coughs that it begets. He is a kindly, +loquacious old man. + +Another Cossack, privileged to the broad yellow top on his cap and +the yellow stripe on his trousers, is, for the time, our guide and +gun-carrier. His flat strongly-mustached face is open and ingenuous. He +tells of his _sotnia_ in Manchuria. + +“I was with Mitschenko at the front during the war, in his great +raid,” he says. “Ten of our _sotnia_ of a hundred were killed, forty +wounded. We got behind the Japanese and burned four hundred of their +wagons. We had two hundred rounds of cartridges, and more when we +wanted them. But food often not, and meat sometimes not for two months. +We had thirty Buriats in our hundred, but the Verhneudinsk Polk were +almost all Buriats.” + +In one house where ikons, oven, bench, and stockade reveal the Slav +peasant’s home, the mirrors are shrouded for their forty days’ +veiling. It is a place of death. The owner was a full-blooded Buriat +married to a Russian woman. In silent grief she plods through her +mechanically-executed duties. Their son, in red blouse, is in prayer +beside his father’s body. They have pressed us to remain. The advent +of strangers seems to distract their thoughts a little. From outside +comes a hail, and heavily there dismounts from his pony an old grizzled +Buriat Cossack. He has ridden two hundred versts to pay this last +respect to his friend. + +His military training makes the Cossack a little less gentle than the +average peasant. When off duty, hen-roosts near a garrison are in +some danger. For the rest, he is naturally brave, generous, and will +share the chicken he has just ridden forty versts to lift. He will +give his pipe to be smoked, and will behave with a thoughtfulness and +courtesy that is not found in finer circles. His children have the free +unrepressed air which speaks of genial home kindliness and sympathy. +His wife is far from being a mute drudge. + +Assuredly this is not the Cossack of legendary fame, the “implacable +knout” of the czars. It requires almost courage, in the face of the +savage of literary tradition, to assert that the Cossack is other than +a dehumanized monster of oppression. Why then did he cut down with +utter ruthlessness the helplessly frozen grenadiers of the Grande +Armée? Why will he massacre indiscriminately men, women, and children +on his path from Tien-tsin to Peking? Why will he beat with his knotted +whip the striking girl students of Kiev? Who shall tell? To a certain +extent he is callous to suffering because of a defective imagination. +He will ride his best horse to death if need be. Loving it, he will yet +leave it out in weather forty below. He is cruel, often, because he +has not the substituting gift needed to translate another’s suffering +into terms of his own. He is valorous because, even so far as regards +himself, he cannot think beyond the immediate privation into the future +of imaged dread, so he goes fearlessly into unpondered peril. He +offends the traditional ideas of humanity and civilization in killing +people, because of his failure to recognize a wider radius of sympathy +than circles his own tribe. But if the tribe circumscribes his idea, +the nation circumscribes the sympathies of others who make tariffs to +crush an extra-national industry and raise armies to destroy a foreign +liberty. But if outside the Cossack’s recognized circle, you are to +him beyond the pale, in his home, you are, _ipso facto_, a member of +the tribe, a brother in whose defense he will gayly risk his life, and +spend his substance. + +The deeds that are recalled to the Cossack’s discredit often fall for +judgment really to those who plan and issue the orders which loyalty +makes him obey. Where his allegiance has been once given, there it +remains. His _hataman_ is more than a superior officer; he is the chief +of the clan, the head of all the tribe, and the subordinate is united +to him by the traditions of centuries of mutual dependence. Where other +than blood-kin officers are put over the Cossack he mutinies, as when, +in Manchuria, Petersburg-schooled lieutenants were drafted and raised +to command. But give him his own rightful chief, then if the Cossack is +told to do something it is done. He will cross himself and jump from +the tower, as in Holland did Peter the Great’s guardsman at the word of +the chief to whom he had given his loyalty. + +The savage valor of the warriors in Verestchagin’s picture, _The +Cossack’s Answer_, is typical of the spirit of these soldiers. +Surrounded by battalions of the foe, fated to annihilation when the +summons to surrender is rejected, the leaders, laughing uproariously in +approval, hear their _hataman_ dictate the insulting reply that dooms +them all. If one would ride to China he can have no better guards and +comrades than the Cossacks. + +We are close to the border now, climbing the last crest which separates +the Chickoya from the Cellinga Valley, our toiling tired ponies white +with frost. All day the long sweep of the hills has been taken through +heavy snow. The landscape is barren, desolate, and lifeless save for +the occasional sight of a distant Buriat horseman. The sun is slowly +sinking. + +The crest at last! The driver points with his whip to the dark masses +of houses below, wreathed in the curling smoke of the evening fires. +Here and there is a brilliantly painted building or tower, and sleighs +and horsemen are passing in the streets. “Troitzkosavsk!” he says. He +points further ahead to another more distant town, whose most dominant +features are the great square tea-caravansaries and a mighty church, +green-domed, with a gilded far-glimmering cross. The huddled houses +end sharply toward the south, as if a ruler had marked off their limit +in a straight stretch of white. Along this pale are little square +sentry-boxes, striped black and white. In the evening sun a distant +glint of steel flashes from the bayonet of a pacing sentry. “Kiahta!” +the driver says. Then, across the white strip where a wooden stockade +girds a settlement of gray-walled compounds, fluttering with tiny +flags, gay with lofty towers and temples flaunting their red eaves, he +points a third time: “Kitai!” (China). + +He picks up the reins, and lifts the whip; “Scurry!” he cries to the +horses. The ponies leap forward, throwing their weight against duga +and collar, and we sweep down the hill toward the nearest Russian town, +Troitzkosavsk, four versts from the border. + +As we come down to the main road hard-by the town, officers of the +garrison drive past with their spick-and-span fast trotters, city-wise, +as one sees them in Irkutsk. Behind rolls a Mongol cart driven by a +burly Chinaman. A Buriat, come to town to replenish his supply of +powder and ball, follows on his shaggy pony. + +Down a long street, flanked first by log cabins with courtyards and +fences like those in the peasant villages, then by stucco-plastered +houses, cement-walled government buildings, and great whitewashed +churches, we pass and reach the centre of the town. Then we turn up a +side street to the house of a mine-owner, to whom we are accredited. + +Nicolai Vladimirovitch Tobagov meets us at the door of his log house, +clad in gray flannel shirt and knee-boots. A not unnoteworthy product +of Siberia is this man,--squarely built and yet wiry, with nervous +strength expressed on his bearded face. He is self-made, risen +from the masses. A peasant-boy, he started life as assistant to a +surveyor, learning to read and write by his own efforts. During this +apprenticeship he studied his chief’s books on geology, by the light +of the brands for the samovar in the peasants’ houses where they were +billeted nightly. + +He located placer gold in a number of spots, at a time when the oblast +was a lawless “no man’s domain,” without any legal means in existence +for acquiring title to property. Guarding in silence his secret, he +waited years, until at last a mining-law was enacted for the oblast +where his prospects lay. When this law ultimately made private +ownership possible, he started in to realize. A friend lent him the +money for a mill, which he constructed, according to book-descriptions, +on the model of those in California. At first it failed to work, and +broke again and again. His riffles were set too steeply. They had let +the gold scour away, and his neighbors reported that there was no +gold to collect. But he fought it through to victory, returned every +borrowed kopeck with interest, bought new machines, and prospered; till +now, besides controlling several mines, he possesses a great domain in +the river valley, some hundred versts away, with fields of wheat and +rye and hay-meadows. + +When the visitor has stamped the snow from his felt boots and emerged +from his shaggy bearskin coat and hooded fur cap, he enters the main +room, with its walls of great logs bare of ornament and showing the +scorings of the axe, but clean as new-planed wood can be. Between +the chinks straw and moss are packed to keep out the cold. Two great +benches flank the sides of the room. Not a picture, not an ornament, +not a curtain, not a drapery, not a shelf, breaks the plainness +of the log wall, but here and there are hung guns and rifles. In +essentials this large house does not greatly differ from the typical +peasant’s dwelling. But a copy of the “Sibir” newspaper lies on the +table, and photographs of the female members of the family are added +to the many reproductions of relations in military dress, which the +photographer has touched up with brilliant dashes of red, to pay +tribute to the coat-lining, and white to indicate the gloves. Lamps +replace the lowly tapers, and they burn before more gorgeously gilt +ikons. The windows are double, with cotton-wool and strips of colored +paper between. This is a great improvement on the single ice-crusted +window, with its perpetual drippings down along the sill. There are +the little sheet-iron stoves, whitewashed after the tradition of the +oven; chairs with backs, as well as the square stools; and small rooms +curtained off from each other. A clock hangs on the wall, and there are +carpets on the floor. A large table stands at one end, on which is the +ever-boiling samovar, which is nickel instead of brass. + +We are made acquainted with the wife of the host, a stout matron of +fine domestic proclivities. Though of humble origin, she has discarded +her peasant shako and bandana-handkerchief headdress for a bonnet, and +dispenses, as to the manner born, many luxuries. On the other hand, +she has lost the robustness which keeps her peasant sisters fresh and +hearty. Sewing-machines, and beds, and servants, must exact toll even +in Siberia. Her boys are clean-cut and intelligent. They go to school +and are the future “Intellectuals” that are seeding Siberia. Sixteen +children--eleven Nicolai Tobagov’s own, five adopted in open-hearted +generosity--sit down to four very solid meals a day in the big hall. +Ivan Simeonski, _optovie_ and _argove_ merchant, and Nicita Baeschoef +the lieutenant, traveling west on furlough, are stopping in this +friendly house, and many other guests are here. The hospitality of the +household is conducted on a scale of patriarchal magnificence. + +Before our furs are fairly off, the host has called aloud for _obeid_. +One’s first formality is, as usual, to salute the ikons and the guests. +One’s second is to escape the scalding vodka, seventy proof, and then +begin with the _zakuska_ of ten cold dishes on the side table. There is +black caviar from the Volga, though the rapid diminution of the supply +has raised the price to ten roubles a pound. There is red caviar from +the Chickoya, cold mutton, cold sturgeon, sardines, ham, and sliced +sausages made at home. The latter must be abundantly and appreciatively +sampled, because they have been specially prepared under the direction +of the _souprouga_ herself. One stands before the _zakuska_ and dips +from dish to dish. Next, the guests take the square wooden stools and +draw up to the great table, where the plates are set for the real +dinner. Each one helps himself to the smoking soup, which is passed +in the tureen. As this is being ladled, a plate of round balls comes +by, the delicious _piroushki_, dough-shells filled with hashed meat, +always served with soup. We have entered upon a typical Siberian meal, +with the boiled soup-meat eaten as the second course, and madeira, +champagne, claret, and rum, indiscriminately offered. A perfect babel +of conversation goes on, and one is pressed to try this, try that, try +each and everything of the long menu, under the watchful eyes of the +kindly host and hostess. + +At all times of the day the samovar is left simmering, ready for +any one of the multitudinous household to brew tea, and constantly +replenished _zakuska_ dishes deck the sideboard. Guests, attendants, +children, and friends come and go in the utmost freedom. Such is the +_Hazan’s_ life. + +In another part of the building there stuffs to repletion an army of +dependents. Servants, artisans, drivers from the caravans which pass +up from China by the road below the house, a whole other below-stairs +world is here. Twenty caravan teamsters, _karetniki_ or _isvoschniki_ +of the sledges and carts that fill the ample courtyard, huddle in the +back rooms for tea. An old bespectacled maker of string-net doilies, +who reads Alexander Pushkin’s poems, is working out a week’s board in +the room where the chickens are kept. The housewife does not disdain, +either, to find a place for the traveling _sapojnik_, who will put +leather reinforcements on the felt boots which have been worn +through at the heel. It is a large easy way of living, this of the man +who holds a leading place in the border city. + +[Illustration: A CHICKOYA GIRL] + +[Illustration: TROITZKOSAVSK STUDENT] + +A mixture of crudeness and culture, of luxury and hardship, of Orient +and Occident, runs through the quaint fabric of frontier society, with +its medley of races and types. Fine avenues flanked by stuccoed houses +pierce the main city. Back of them lie the log houses of the plainer +citizens, while the outskirts are occupied by the felt huts of the +Buriats and Mongols. Students in uniform elbow Cossacks of the Guard, +and maidens from the seminary brush the Mongol wood-choppers. + +“Téatre?” suggests one evening the twenty-year-old son of your host. +Of course the invitation is accepted. At eight o’clock you put on your +felt boots, and tramp down past dark-shuttered log houses and the +silent white church into the field, where stands a barn-like building +placarded with the programme. The young guide secures seats at the +ticket-counter of rough lumber. Seventy-five kopecks they are, each. +With them are handed out eight numbered slips of red paper. Then +together you break a way to the front rows, through the crowd of burly +Cossacks of the garrison, bearskin-capped students, citizens with shiny +black boots, and here and there a husky stolid-faced Buriat. Keeping +hat and coat on, as does every one else, we find seats on the rough +benches wheresoever we like or can; for nothing is reserved save the +elevated perch of the musicians, where a four-piece orchestra drones +out a monotonous Russian march. What a fire-trap! is the first thought. +To each of the posts that sustain the rafters is fastened a lamp +shedding an uncertain light on the hangings of bright-red cotton cloth, +in dangerous proximity to which, utterly disregarding the “no smoking” +signs, stand the crowd of forty-kopeck admissions, rolling and smoking +perpetual _papirosi_. + +As the impatient audience begins to pound and stamp, a bell rings, and +the curtain rises on two comic characters busily engaged in packing for +a hurried departure from their lodging. The stage has become a room, +with red-cotton-covered walls and bright green curtains. A merchant +comes with a bill for comestibles six months due. He is quieted with +extravagant tales of forthcoming change for a hundred-thousand-rouble +note. The landlady enters, and the shoemaker’s apprentice with a pair +of mended boots. Both are likewise cajoled and bullied away. The Jewish +money-lender is more difficult, but at length, to the manifest delight +of the audience, he, too, is staved off, and the pair draw the vivid +green curtains and go out through a window for parts unknown, amid much +glee and applause. + +We now go out to the “buffet” and contribute to the dangers of +conflagration by smoking an offered cigarette. We also add to the +theatre’s income by buying a glass of hot _chai_ for ten kopecks. +Something special is in the air for the next act. The audience is +buzzing and moving in eager expectancy. We return to our seats. The +curtain rises upon a double row of two-_pud_ (sixty-four-pound) +weights, such as are used at the bazaar to sell frozen beef. Amid a +thunder of stampings on the plank floor one of the escaping debtors +of the last act, dressed in tights, comes out from behind the green +curtains, and lifts one of these above his head. Then he poises one +with each hand. Finally a wooden harness is adjusted to his body, and +sixteen weights (or about half a ton), are heaped upon him by the +jack-booted Buriat stage-attendant on one side, and the defrauded +merchant of the first play on the other. It is the most unspectacular +performance possible, this athletic test, but it takes the place of a +football match in Siberia. The applause is ferociously appreciative. + +More _chai_ and cigarettes, and we come back to hear a very pretty +girl, dressed in the peasant’s costume of Little Russia, head a chorus, +and to see a boy in red blouse and boots dance the wild dervish whirl +which the peasants of tradition are supposed to execute. The boy is +in the midst of his performance when there is a tumult among the +forty-kopeckers under the musicians’ eyrie. The latter, being human, +try to watch what is going on below and play jig-music at the same +time, and sharps and flats fly wide of the mark till the sounds become +frightful. Everybody jumps up on his bench to see a peasant having a +turn with a Buriat, and further trouble brewing with a Cossack who has +got upset in the mêlée. There is a chaos of tossing hats and brandished +fists, and the two armed soldiers who are on guard as policemen press +in, with gruff shouts to make them way. The tumult finally goes out the +door and into the street, and we turn back to the poor dancer still +trying to beat out his stunt. + +The curtain rises next on the manager, who has been up to date +weight-lifter, escaping boarder, and part of the peasants’ chorus. He +is seated at a table, looking very ordinary in his street clothes. +Behind him is another table covered with an assortment of crockery, +mirrors, spoons, vases, pieces of cotton cloth, and a big striking +clock. He calls for a volunteer from the audience for some unknown +purpose, and a little rosy-cheeked uniformed Buriat schoolboy, who +has been peeking behind flapping curtain between the acts, responds. +The boy reaches into a box and pulls out a slip of paper. The manager +reads a number from it, “_Sto piatdeciet sem_.” An eager voice from the +rear answers “_Jes!_” The stage-attendant takes a glass tumbler from +the table and carries it solemnly to the man who has answered. Your +host nudges until you comprehend that you are to excavate the eight +theatre-slips, which you do, to find that two only are seat-tickets. +The rest are numbered billets, and you are liable at any moment to +receive a perfumery-bottle or a candlestick from the lottery which is +in progress. The scene now takes on an imminent personal interest +shared with the banked forty-kopeckers behind. A breathless strain +accompanies the drawing of the numbers. It mounts to a climax as the +big musical clock is approached. The fateful billet is at last drawn +in intense silence. Every eye is fixed on the reader. Not a Cossack +speaks, not a Mongol moves. + +“_Dvesti tri!_” and a sharp “_Moi!_” tells that the clock goes to +ornament the table of a burly peasant, who grinningly receives it. The +tense breaths are let out, the forms relax, and the crowd straggles to +the door, lighting cigarettes and pulling down caps. The drama is over. +Next morning at eight a soldier visits your host with a message from +his chief. + +“Bring to the police-station the passport of the stranger seen with you +at the theatre last night.” + +A town droshky will take one the few versts to Kiahta, where in the +Geographical Society’s museum is the celebrated sketch of the Dalai +Lama made at Urga by a Russian artist, when the young Tibetan monk +had fled before the English expedition to Lhassa. Here, too, are ore +samples and reconstructed Mongolian tents. But it is hard to look +at fossil rhinoceros-heads and at stuffed sabre-toothed tigers and +musk-deer when the camel-trains are passing and China is a verst away. +A courier is necessary now, for resourceful Jacov and driver Ivan are +strangers beyond the border. Perhaps our host knows of a man acquainted +in Mongolia? He will inquire. Next day there presents himself a slight, +bearded, intellectual man, Alexander Simeonovich Koratkov, usually +called, for short, “Alexsimevich.” Bachelor of forty, educated in +the Troitzkosavsk “Realistic” school. He speaks, as well as Russian, +Mongolian, English, French, German, and some Chinese. He has translated +for the English engineers who were brought in to work the Nerchinsk +mines. He is deeply read in Buddhist mythology and sociology. Will he +go down into Mongolia with you? Yes; and so it is arranged. + +Provisions are cheap and abundant in the Siberian towns. Sixty kopecks +buy a pound of caravan tea, seventeen kopecks a pound of sugar, the +sort that comes in a cone like a Kalmuck hat. It is a luxury by warrant +of public opinion, so much that it has, of note, been served on baked +potatoes. Before the Buddha pictures of the Buriats, a few lumps may +be the choicest offering. Flour costs six kopecks a pound. Beef, if a +great pud-weight forequarter is bought at the market, twenty kopecks. +Frozen butter will cost twenty-five kopecks per pound. Eggs, of the +Siberian cold-storage variety, forty-eight kopecks a dozen. For thirty +kopecks one gets a piece of milk as big as one’s head. But do not try +to go beyond the native produce, for canned goods, coffee, or sardines. +It is bankruptcy speedier than buying bear-holes. A big magazine will +sell pâté de foie gras, imported from France, at two roubles the tin; +while beneath the Chinese caravansaries’ arcade, bales of tea will be +sold at a few kopecks a pound. One gets cigars in a glass-covered box, +with the government stamp, for a rouble and a half, and they will be +worth about as much as the strings of twisted tobacco-rope which the +Mongols carry off as their single cherished luxury. + +And now for transportation. The sledge can serve no more, for the snow +goes bare in places along the caravan trail. We must have a tarantass, +and in time one is produced for inspection. A cask sawed in half, +lengthwise, is the image of its body, a lumber-cart the model of its +clumsy wheels and framework. To the tarantass is hitched the trotter, +with his big bow yoke to bring the weight of collar and shafts on his +back rather than against his neck. At each side of him, with much such +a rig as is used to tow canal-boats, are made fast the two galloping +horses. + +When one goes beyond the post-route with his own equipage he has, +fastened under the driver’s seat and behind his own, bags of oats and +hay, which must serve as emergency-rations for the horses against the +days in which none can be secured along the often deserted trail. +Personal provender must be likewise stored away, bags of bread, frozen +dumplings to make soup with, tea, sugar, milk-chocolate, milk, candles, +cheese, matches, kettles, and whatever else one can think of, or +that the ingenuity of Alexsimevich can devise. Hay is piled into the +tarantass bottom to supply the want of springs. + +A driver who knows the trails has been found, André Banchelski, a tall +Siberian, of timbering and hunting antecedents, who has a small stock +of Mongol idioms regarding the price of hay and the location of water. +He has reached a very good understanding with Katrinka, one of the +household dependents, and Nicolai is taking an interest in him. + +To-night we go to sleep on Nicolai’s plank couch, ready for the march +of the next day. All is ready. To-morrow we cross the Chinese frontier. + + + + +V + +IN TATAR TENTS + + +The shaggy ponies, white with the frost of the morning, stand harnessed +to the tarantass; André in his belted sheepskin _shuba_, whip in hand, +is perched on the bag of oats; Alexsimevich sits in a greatcoat of +deerskin, with only a nose and a triangle of black beard visible. The +host, in his gray surtout, and the red-bloused drivers of the sledges +scattered in the courtyard, all have left their samovars to see the +start. The children of the family peep from behind the mother with her +gray shawl-covered head. They group at one side, under the eaves of the +doorway, while Josef, one of the household servants, swings back the +ponderous gates. The reins are drawn in, the whip is lifted, the horses +are leaning forward into their collars, when the cry of “André!” comes +through the opening doorway. + +From behind the gathered onlookers, who turn at the sound, runs out +Katrinka, dressed in her best red frock. “André!” she cries. He pulls +back the starting horses, and Katrinka lifts up to him a little bag +embroidered with his initials in blue and red. “For your tobacco.” + +He looks down into her eyes and smiles. “_Spasiba_ _loubesnaia_,” he +says, and pushes it into the breast of his shuba. + +“_De svidania_, André!” she whispers, then runs back, confused. + +The teamsters laugh, pleased and amused as big children at her blushes, +and her brother shouts a commentary from the gateway. “_Vperiod! +vperiod!_” says the interpreter. He has reached forty now without +falling before the charms of any Siberian girl, and he does not +sympathize. “On! on!” + +The horses swing out of the great gateway into the snowy streets, with +“Good-bye! Good road!” called in chorus after us. + +At a slow trot the lumbering carriage rolls through the quiet town, +misty in the cold of the morning. The row of shuttered shops, with +their crude pictures of the wares within, are opening for the day. +The little park with the benches, which are trysting-places of summer +evenings, cushioned now with six inches of snow, and the low log houses +beyond, loom up and retire rearward, as we pass. The white church and +the fenced cemetery of Troitzkosavsk are left behind, and we are on the +broad paved road by which a sharp trot of half an hour brings us to +Kiahta. + +Its scattered houses now in turn begin. The big tea-compound, of four +square white walls, flanks us and is gone. The officials’ residences +and the barracks of the garrison appear and vanish behind. The street +opens out into a big square, where, shimmering against the white +ground, stands the great church of _Voskresenie_, the Resurrection. +On its green dome, lifted high in appeal and in promise, gleams the +gilded cross. In white and green and gold Russia raises inspiringly +the symbols of Slavonic faith before the doors of the heathen empire. +As we pass the white Russian church, the litany of the popes and the +answering chant of the choir come faintly wafted from within. But even +as the Christians sing, the clash of distant cymbals and the roll of a +far-off prayer-drum meet and mingle with the echoes. On the hill across +the border, in vivid scarlet against the snow, with painted walls, +sacred dragon-eaves, and flapping bannerets, flames a Chinese temple. + +Here now is the borderland of empires. The neutral strip is in front, +a hundred _sagenes_ broad. The Cossack sentries stand at ease before +their striped boxes, which face toward Mongolia. Far to the east and +far to the west are seen stretching the long lines of posts marking the +boundary. The outmost sentry, as the tarantass rolls across the strip, +hails you with a last “_De svidania!_” (God speed!) + +Past the Chinese boundary-post, covered with hieroglyphic placards and +shaped like the lotus-bud, we drive, and in under the painted gateway +of the gray-plastered wall. No Männlicher-armed Chinese regulars, +like those that in Manchuria throng to hold what is lost, guard this +half-forgotten road. No sentry watches; no custom-officer bids the +strangers stop. Through the open gate we ride into the narrow street of +the trading city of the frontier--Maimachen, the unguarded back door to +China. + +In life one is granted some few great impressions. None is more +striking than that experienced in passing beneath the shadow of this +gabled gateway. Behind are kindred men, the manners of one’s own kind, +police, churches, droshkys, museums, theatres, the whole fabric of +European civilization. From all these one is cut away in the moment of +time taken in passing the neutral strip. Two hundred yards have thrust +one into the antithesis of all western experience, into an utterly +strange environment, where the most remarkable of the world’s Asian +races lives and trades, works and rules. + +Everything which is made sensually manifest by sight, by sound, by +scent, by action, is weirdly alien. You three in the tarantass are as +men from Mars, isolated, and moving among people foreign to your every +interest and experience. The solitary strangeness of your little party +in the tarantass, started into a forbidding land, the first confronting +vision of the eternal Orient--these are the things for which men travel. + +As you go slowly down the narrow lane-like street, you catch glimpses +of banner-decked courtyards seen through great barred doors in the +gray mud walls. Here and there a sallow blue-coated Chinaman, with +skull-cap and queue, passes by, his folded hands tucked into his long +sleeves, fur-lined against the cold. Chinese booths and shops are open. +Waiting traders, seeing yet invisible, behind the many-paned paper +windows, look outward through the peep-hole. + +In the city square a halt is made before a Chinese store, for a last +provisioning. At the entrance half a dozen Russian sledges are drawn +up. Here can be had the supply of small silver coins indispensable for +the road, canned goods of European origin, and a bottle whose contents +may be less like medicine than is vodka. Though the goods come all +the way from Peking on camel-back, they are much cheaper than the +tax-burdened provisions over the border in Russia. Indeed many of the +main Chinese stores, with their surprising stocks of wines and pâtés de +foie gras, candies, and Philippine tobacco, are supported by Russian +inhabitants of Kiahta and Troitzkosavsk. It is amusing to watch the +enveloping of champagne-bottles in sleigh-robes, and the secreting of +cigars beneath fur caps for the return journey. + +We stroll a little way down the street, among the Chinese booths for +native wares, where sturdy shuba-robed Mongol tribesmen are bartering +sheepskins for blue cotton cloth, metal trinkets, quaint long-stemmed +metal pipes, and wool-shears with big handles. They are probably +getting deeper in debt, as usual, to the wily traders. We pass the +haymarket in the shade of a ruined temple, where the Mongols have +heaped their little bundles of provender. + +All the while one has an eerie undefined sentiment that something is +lacking. It is not that the houses which face the narrow main street +are low and poor, that the gray mud-walled compounds are grimly +unwelcoming with their closed iron-studded gates. It is not that the +small stocks of goods in the shops tell of a vanished prosperity, now +that the bulk of the tea-trade has left. It is not anything material, +but an oppressive indefinable feeling that something is lacking. Only +when Alexsimevich makes a chance remark, do you realize consciously +what it was you instinctively felt, “It is queer to be in a city where +there is not a woman or child.” + +Some have explained the exclusion law which controls the situation by +the self-sufficiency of the Chinese, who wished no real settlement of +their people here,--the fruit of a pride deep-rooted as that underlying +the custom which brings every corpse back to China for burial. Others, +by the desire to avoid transmitting to the Empire the diseases that are +rife in Mongolia. Whatever the basis, the regulation is in full force +to-day. At one time merchants in Maimachen kept their wives across +the border in Russia, which under a subterfuge was not technically +forbidden. But the ability to hide behind a technicality is a blessing +enjoyed especially in democracies. It did not go with the chief of +police, who came down for a squeeze which made it more profitable to +pay the women’s fare home than to continue to offend. + +[Illustration: A WAYSIDE TEMPLE] + +Associating with the native Mongol women is here precluded by the fact +that there are no settlements near by from which the Chinese might get +indigenous consolation. A deserted tract lies behind the town. Only +camel-drivers, wood-cutters, and sellers of cattle come into Maimachen, +and they leave at night. For though the Mongols, in their pointed hats, +pass along the streets, none may lawfully live within the stockaded +walls, and none keep shop beneath the carved eaves of the houses which +flank its narrow streets. This is the prerogative of Chinese traders +from beyond the far-off Wall. + +The spectacled merchant Tu-Shiti, who has become prosperous from the +sale of Mongol wool, retakes for a visit, every two years, the long +camel-trail to Kalgan and China. The tea-trader, Chantu-fou, drinks +his wares alone. The slant-eyed clerks and booth-keepers trotting down +the streets in their skull-caps, hands tucked up the sleeves of their +blue jackets, plan no theatre-parties or amity balls, or sleigh-rides +in the biting air, as over the way in Kiahta. The seller of sweetmeats +will never be told to be sure and inclose the red and black New Year’s +card. There is no red-cheeked Chinese boy to smile as he munches your +sugar; to puzzle over your ticking watch as at Kotoi, or to tease the +tame crane in the courtyard. Not a girl appears on the narrow streets. +It is the sentence passed upon the generations of Chinese who have +gone to Mongolia, that no woman of their race shall pass the Wall. And +so it must remain, for never a home will be founded till China, the +unchanging, shall change. + +Back and forth through the thoroughfares go the little men with the +queues flapping against their backs and their sallow uncommunicative +faces. Are they thinking of the time when they will have made their +little fortunes and can get back to China to enjoy them? As they wait +for customers in the little booths, do they plan the homes which none +of their blood may ever possess in Mongolia? When they sleep on their +wooden platforms, do they dream of faces in the Kingdom of the Sun? +Never will one know. Around the thoughts of the Chinaman arise the +ramparts of his isolation. What he believes, what he hopes, what he +dreams are not for you. The soul of China is behind the Wall. + +The tarantass rolls out of the quaint weather-worn gateway of the +woman-less city of Maimachen. “How much they miss!” says André, +filling his pipe from the new pouch. “How much they escape!” retorts +Alexsimevich. + +When in hot haste Pharaoh ordered out his great war-chariot to pursue +the rebellious Children of Israel, and thundered through his pyloned +gateway with plunging horses urged by the shouts of his Nubian +charioteers, he must have experienced, despite contrasts, much the same +physical sensations as those which we feel when the tarantass starts in +full gallop across the level plain to the distant range of mountains; +but where Pharaoh’s robe was white with dust, ours is white with snow, +and the sun, which baked his road, makes ours endurable. + +The horses leap free under the knotted lash of the Siberian driver. +With the rumble of low thunder the ponderous wooden wheels bound over +the rutty road, hurling the springless tarantass into the air and from +side to side. You brace yourself with baggage and hold to the sides, +but toss despite all, like corn in a popper. The hay on which you sit +shifts away to one side, leaving the bare boards to rub through clothes +and packs. A sudden splinter makes you jump like a startled deer beside +the way. In this noisy tarantass, down the narrow road grooved with +the ruts of the Mongol carts and sledges that have gone northward, you +tumble and groan and bump and roll out across the open country. + +There is a wide plain from Maimachen. It climbs into the first +barrier-range and the forest belt of Mongolia, whose plateau is the +third terrace in the rise of land from the low frozen flats of the +Northern Lena to the Roof of the World,--the Himalayas of the south. +The northern city of Yakutsk is at a very low elevation, only a few +feet above the sea. Irkutsk on the fifty-second parallel is 1521 feet +in altitude, Troitzkosavsk on the fifty-first is 2600, Urga on the +forty-eighth 3770, Lhassa 11,000 feet. + +Far to the northwest, Mongolia is a forested fur region; far to the +south is Shama--the desert. Here at the north and east the forested +belt of the Siberian highlands south of Baikal breaks off almost at the +boundary. + +Snow is over everything, but thinly. It has been worn away on the road, +leaving brown patches over which the tarantass, mounting the long +slope with horses at a slow trot, lugubriously thuds. A long stretch +of straggly trees and stumps tells of Kiahta peasants going over the +border to cut wood where no timber-laws limit. Up and up we go, the +way steeper every _sagene_,--afoot now and the horses leaning and +pulling at the traces. Finally silhouetted against the sky appears a +rough pile of stones. At its top bannerets are waving from drooping +poles. It is the Borisan on the summit of the pass to which every +pious Mongol adds an offering, until the pile is many feet high, with +stones, sticks, pieces of bread and bones. Some throw money which +no one save a Chinaman will commit the sacrilege of touching; some +give a Moscow paper-wrapped sweetmeat, some a child’s worn hat or +yellow-printed prayer-cloths waving on their sticks and fading in the +wind;--everything is holy that is given to the gods. + +A piercing wind, searching and paralyzing, meets the tarantass +beyond the crest at the southern border of the forest: it is Gobi’s +compliments to Baikal, the salute of the great desert to the great +lake. The horses stumble through the drifted snow, scarcely able to +walk. The driver, blinded, half-frozen, keeps to the general direction +of the obliterated trail. Barely one verst an hour is made, until, +under the shelter of the bald white range of hills, the road reappears +and the wind is warded off. + +A rolling plain between the heights is the next stretch of the way. The +afternoon sun, dimly bright, creeps haloed through the lightly falling +snow. Deep in the mist appears a dark moving mass. It grows, focuses, +and takes shape into a shaggy beast of burden, and camel after camel +emerges from the haze, loaded with square bales of tea. + +“Ask if there is shelter near,” you shout to the muffled head of the +interpreter. + +“I will ask,” he replies. Then to the caravan leader: “_Sein oh!_” he +cries in greeting. + +The foremost camel stares stonily as its Mongol driver twitches the +piece of wood which pierces its upper lip, and the whole train stops. + +“_Gir orhum beine?_” + +“_Ti, ti, orhum beine!_” comes the answer. “It is close at hand.” + +Forward the caravan slowly paces, each camel turning his head to stare +as he passes out into the mist again. One of them has left a fleck of +blood in each print of his broad spongy foot which the driver will +cobble with leather at the next halt. Along their trail you drive +southward. The mist is clearing as you rise, and the sun shines down +on the snow which has crystalized in little shafts an inch high. These +spear-shaped slivers have a brightness and a sheen of extraordinary +brilliance, and like prisms show all the colors of the rainbow. They +cast a gleam, as might a mirror, a hundred yards away. It is as if upon +the great white mantle had been thrown haphazard treasuries in rubies +and emeralds and diamonds and opals,--myriad evergrowing rivals of +Dresden regalias. The sun goes down with its necromancy. Beyond, the +soft blanket enfolds the rolling hills. It drapes the rocks and weaves +its drooping festoons about the barren mountain-sides. + +“Mongol _yurta_!” calls André, turning to point out with his whip the +low dome-shaped hut, black against the darkening sky. On its unknown +occupants we are to billet ourselves, sheltered by the rule of nomad +hospitality. As the tarantass nears the wattled corral, the watchful +ravens stir from their perches. The picketed camels turn to stare. A +gaunt black hound stalks out, with mane erect and ominous growls. + +“_Nohoi_,” cries out Alexsimevich, to the inhabitants of the hut; then +adds to you, “Very bad dogs! It is a Mongol proverb: ‘If you are near a +dog, you are near a bite.’” + +Beneath an osier-built lean-to a woman is milking a sheep, with a lamb +to encourage the flow. She calls a guttural order to the dog, which +slinks back. Then she comes to the wattled fence, while the sheep +which has been getting milked escapes to a far corner of the yard. The +woman’s head is curiously framed by a triangular red hat, and silver +hair-plates, which hold out like wings her black tresses. The shoulders +of her magenta dress are padded up into epaulettes two inches high. She +is girded with a sash. + +“_Sein oh!_” says Alexsimevich. + +“_Sein!_” she answers, and opens the gateway to the enclosure around +the hut. + +André drives in among the sheep and cows, and you climb lumberingly +down with cold stiffened limbs. André puts his whip upon the felt roof, +for it is a deadly breach of etiquette to bring it into the house. + +“You go in,” said Alexsimevich. + +It is like entering a kennel, this struggle through the narrow +aperture, muffled to the eyes in double furs and awkward felt boots. +As you straighten up after the crawl through the entrance, a red glare +from the fire just in front meets the gaze. Stinging smoke grips the +throat; you choke in pain. It blinds the smarting eyes. You gasp and +stagger. Then some one takes your hand and pulls you violently down +on a low couch to the left, where in course of time breath and sight +return. There is no chimney, nor stack for the fire of the brazier, +which stands in the centre of the hut. One can see the open sky +through the three-foot hole above. The smoke, finding its way toward +this aperture, works along the sloping wooden poles which form the +framework of the felt-covered tent, filling the whole upper section +with its blinding fumes. To stand is to smother. Sitting, the head +comes below the smoke-line. + +With recovered vision, one can look around within the hut. The couch of +refuge, raised some six inches above the floor, is the bed by night, +the sitting-place by day. Against the wall at the left hand, and +directly opposite the door, is a box-like cupboard, along whose top +are ranged pictures of grotesque Buddhist gods, before whom are little +brass cups full of offerings, millet or oil, in which is standing a +burning wick. Beside the door is a shelf loaded with fire-blackened +pots and kettles. Branches of birch for fuel are thrown beneath. On +the far side of the room, three black lambs, fenced off by a wicker +barricade, are huddled together, quietly sleeping. + +[Illustration: A MONGOL BELLE AND HER YURTA] + +[Illustration: A ZABAIKALSKAIA BURIAT] + +Seated beside the fire close by is the girl of nineteen who has just +saved you from asphyxiation. The long fur-lined working-dress, common +to all ages and sexes of Mongols, is buttoned on her left side with +bright brass buttons, and is belted in with a sash. She has not the +padded shoulder-humps, nor the spreading hair arrangement, which +gave to her mother, who welcomed us, so weird an appearance. Her +complexion is swarthy like an Indian’s, not the Chinese chalky yellow, +and she has red cheeks and full red lips. Her eyes are large and black. +The rest of the party have stayed a moment outside to ask about hay and +water. You have made this solitary and awkward entrance. The girl has +no more notion than a bird who the strange man of another nation may +be, who has stumbled into her home. But it does not trouble her in the +least. For a moment she looks you over calmly, with a smile of amused +curiosity, rolling and wringing with her fingers a lambskin which she +is softening. Then composedly she bids you the Mongol welcome, “_Sein +oh!_” and holds out her hand. Her grip is as firm and frank as a +Siberian’s. + +Now Alexsimevich comes tumbling through the door, and next André. Both +are used to these huts, and artistically stoop below the smoke-line. +All our impedimenta--blankets, furs, pots, kettles, bread-bag, +rifles--are heaped in a mound within the space between the couch and +the tethered lambs. The girl has not stirred from her work. + +“They are friends of yours then, Alexsimevich?” you ask. + +“No, no, I never saw them,” he answers. “Any one may take shelter in +any _yurta_ in Mongolia.” + +A small head suddenly makes its appearance from the pile of rugs on the +sofa opposite on the women’s side of the tent. There emerges, naked +save for a bronze square-holed Chinese _cash_ fastened around her +neck, a little slant-eyed three-year-old. The water in the small cups +offered to the _dokchits_ has long been ice, and one has full need of +one’s inner fur coat and cap in the hut, where the entrance, opening +with every visitor, sends a draft of air, forty degrees below zero, +through from the door to the open hole which serves as chimney. And +still this tot can step out naked and not even seem to feel it. + +“The child’s name?” asks Alexsimevich. + +“Turunga,” replies the girl. + +“And your own?” + +“Sibilina,” she says, and smiles. + +Turunga carefully inspects you, and solemnly accepts a lump of sugar +which she knows what to do with, even if it is a rare luxury offered +to gods. She sits down, in an evidently accustomed spot on the warm +felt before the brazier, to play with the scissors-like fire-tongs, +carefully putting back the red coals that have fallen out on the +earthen platform. + +The tarantass-driver, having piled up your impedimenta, excavates from +its midst the bag of rye-bread, which he sets to thaw. He gets next the +little bag of _pelmenes_, the meat-balls covered with dough-paste which +you carry frozen hard. The mother comes in from under the _yurta’s_ +flap, and, placing a blackened basin over the brazier, puts into it a +little water and scours diligently with a bundle of birch-twigs. She +brushes out this water on the earthen floor near the entrance. This is +the picketed lamb’s especial territory, to which the felt rugs before +the couches and the altar do not extend. A big bag of snow which she +has brought from outside is opened and the chunks are piled into the +basin, where, while one watches, it melts down into water. + +“_Boutzela! boutzela!_” she cries soon, holding a lighted sliver +over the basin to see by: “it boils.” Into the Mongol’s pot go our +_pelmenes_, to brew for a few moments. An accidentally trenchant +description of Siberian _pelmenes_ was given on the quaintly-worded +French bill of fare in the hotel at Irkutsk: “Meat hashed in bullets +of dough.” They come out, however, a combination of hot soup and +dumplings, very welcome after the long cold day’s drive across the +plains, the frozen marsh, and the rolling hills. The wooden Chinese +bowls from the bazaar at Troitzkosavsk are filled now with our +hostess’s big ladle, and the application of warmth inwardly gradually +thaws the outlying regions of the body. + +But there is trouble in camp. Turunga is moved by the peculiar passions +of her sex and her age, curiosity and hunger. It does not matter in the +least that she has home-made _pelmenes_ every two or three days--she +wants these particular meat-balls. The little mouth begins to pucker +and the eyes to screw up. No amount of knee-riding by the mother takes +the place of the _pelmenes_. We fill a heaping ladleful and André +furnishes his own bowl. The mother receives it, holding out both her +hands cup-fashion as is the etiquette, and Turunga is satisfied. + +The mother looks kindly to the stranger and smiles at André, then +throws more sticks of the precious firewood on the embers. André has +caught, likewise, the not unadmiring glance of the young maid. The girl +who waits in Troitzkosavsk is not the only one who appreciates our +six-foot Siberian hunter. + +The dog barks in the yard, but without the menace which hailed us, and +the crunch of a horse’s hoofs sounds on the frozen ground outside. The +flap opens, with its inrush of freezing air. Stooping, there enters a +typical Mongol, squat of figure, round of head, with broad sunbrowned +face and a short queue of black hair. He wears a funnel-shaped hat, +magenta-colored, and is enveloped in a long _shuba_, with brass buttons +down one side like a fencer’s jacket. About his waist is a sash with +jingling knives and pouches. He is the head of the family, come in from +herding his horses. He turns back the long fur-lined cuffs which have +protected his gloveless hands, and stretches out both his arms for you +to place your hands over his. It is the man’s ceremony of welcome. Then +he produces a little porcelain snuff-bottle. This must be received +in the palm of the right hand with a bow. It is to be utilized, and +passed back. If the herder is out of snuff, the bottle is offered just +the same and you must appreciatively pretend to take a pinch. Such is +etiquette. + +The soup is gone now; the pot, cleaned out for the tea, is again on the +boil and the leaves are thrown in. André has borrowed a hatchet from +his host, and has chopped off a piece of milk, which goes in as well. + +It is in order to ask the new arrival, Subadar Jay, to pass his +wooden cup for some of the beverage. He takes it and the lumps of +sugar without a word of thanks. The Mongol language has no expression +to signify gratitude. Silence does not, however, mean that he does +not appreciate. The dozen pieces of Mongol sandal-sole bread which +he gives you later are worth two bricks of tea in open market, and +this current medium of exchange--caravan-brought tea--is worth sixty +kopecks the brick. No small gift, this bread, to an interloping +stranger who is brewing tea by his fire, and camping unasked on his +bed. A Tibet-schooled lama knows the Buddhist maxim, “Only accomplish +good deed, ask no reward.” But the unlettered Mongol layman knows its +practice. + +Little Turunga has played naked before the fire long enough now; she +is caught up; her reluctant feet are put into the boots with pointed +upturned toes, and her body into a miniature sheepskin “daily,” such as +her mother and father wear. The little girl is as smiling and shy and +coquettish as any child of white skin and complex clothes. + +“Will you sell Turunga for a brick of tea?” + +“No, no,” says the mother, gathering the little one quickly up into +her arms, while the rest of the family smile at the offer and her +solicitude. “No, no, not even for ten bricks!” + +Everybody laughs, Turunga with the rest, in a child’s instinctive +knowledge that she is the centre of admiring attraction. + +Far more petting than the Russian babies get is lavished on the +little Mongols. Perhaps the much smaller families (only two or three +children to a hut) allow more attention per capita. The mother hands +Turunga over to her father,--unheard-of in Siberia,--and he plays with +the child, giving her pieces of sheep’s tail to eat from his mouth, +answering her prattle or baby-talk and endless questions. At night, +about eight o’clock, the mother takes the child to the couch and they +both go to sleep, Turunga cuddled warmly under her mother’s _shuba_. + +Meanwhile we men sit cross-legged by the fire and talk of many +things,--of the pasturage for the sheep, of the snow on the road, of +the beauty of the housewife’s silver headplates, of water and roads, +of whether or not the Mongol _dokchits_ on the altar are like the Gobi +wolves that hate Chinese. + +It is interesting to note how some of the words used (few, however) +have a familiar sound--although there is said to be no common ancestry +with the Indo-Germanic tongues; perhaps it is only the instinctive +sound-imitation which makes the Mongol baby cry “Mama” to its mother, +as does the child in Chita and in Chicago. “Mine,” for instance, is +_mina_; “thine” is _tenei_. A horse or mare is _mari_. The word for “it +is,” “they are,” is _beine_, a fairly respectable form of the verb “to +be” in Chaucer’s English. + +The grammar is delightfully simple. In the vernacular there is no +bothering about singular or plural. “One hut” is _niger gir_; “two +huts,” _hayur gir_. “Milk” is _su_, and apparently the word for “water” +was formed from it--_ou su_. If one wants to know whether it is time +to throw in the meat-balls he says, “_Ou su boutzela?_” with a rising +inflection (“Water boils?”) and the answer is, “_Boutzela_.” The “moon” +and a “month” are _sara_, and the years go in cycles of twelve. If one +wants to compliment the host on the excellence of the sandal-shaped +bread which he hands out, loaded with gray chalky cheese (_hourut_), +one says, “Bread good be” (_Boba sein beine_); this gives him great +pleasure. + +Some of the written numbers are somewhat like ours: 2 and 3 are nearly +the same, but they have fallen forward on their faces; 6 has an extra +tail. When the teapot overturns, they say “_Harlab!_” to relieve +their feelings. There is no word for “so good,” “farewell,” or “much +obliged.” These are just squeezed into the heartiness of the final +“good” (_sein_). So when one leaves, he holds out both arms, palms up, +for the host to put his own upon, and says loudly, “_Sein oh!_” + +A not unbarren amusement is to study out one’s own derivations for some +much-explained words. _Tamerlane_ is often given as meaning “the lame.” +Why does it not rather come from _temur_ (iron) and mean “man of iron,” +as the ruler of the Khalka tribe was called Altan Khan, the golden +king? The Amur River has _khara-muren_ (black water) usually given as +its derivative root. Why not the Mongol word _amur_, which means simply +“quiet”? + +In the hut to-night, while we are comparing mother tongues, the +brazier-fire has burned to red brands. The girl reaches into a basket +beside the door for pieces of dried camel-dung, and puts them on, that +the embers may be fed and live through the night. These _argols_ do not +smoke; she may close the chimney-hole with the flap of felt, and the +hut will be kept somewhat warm through the night. The Mongols prepare +for sleep: they take off their boots, and slip their arms from the +sleeves of their fur _shubas_, in which they roll themselves up as we +in our blankets. But how hardened they are to the cold! A naked arm +will project and the robes become loose, but they do not wake. + +We keep on all our inner clothing and roll ourselves about with skins +until we are great cocoons. André gives a good-night look to his +horses; then he, too, lies down. With our heads beside the altar of the +gods, we sleep, in the Mongol’s _gir_. + +How cold it is in the morning when we wake! The embers have burned to a +gray ash; the iciness of the waste outside has gripped like an octopus +the little hut, and sucked its precarious warmth through the night-long +radiation. The chimney-hole is open again, and the mother is starting +a blaze with her few pieces of birch firewood. André has gone out to +harness the horses. He has left the door flap a little wrinkled, and +the wind whirls through it and up the chimney, keen as a scimitar. + +Alexsimevich is getting out the tea-bowls and the bread. You put a +reluctant hand from under the blankets and seize your fur cap. Then +you disengage the inner fur coat from its function of coverlet, and +struggle, sleepy-eyed, into it. If you have the moral courage to take +off these friends in need, and the inner coat and sweater, to get a +bowlful of snow-water, and hunt among the baggage for soap and a towel, +all at five o’clock in the morning of this freezing weather, then you +have full license to call the Mongols dirty degraded heathen. If, +however, you sit and shiver, and promise yourself that you will bathe +at Urga, it is elementary fair play to be discreetly silent about the +little failing of your hosts. You will rejoice, too, in open admiration +of courage, when you find, as you sometimes will, a clean-shaven +well-groomed lama, or a washed and combed village belle, on the road to +the sacred city. + +“Ready,” says André. You finish a goodly portion of rye-bread and +several bowls of Alexsimevich’s tea, while he is carrying out the +luggage and making a pyramid of it in the tarantass. You put both +hands out to shake those of Subadar Jay, of his wife, and Sibilina. You +give a last chunk of sugar to little Turunga, and crawl out under the +tent-flap. The family calls “good-bye” from the gateway as you climb +in. Then up the hill you start, for the next day’s ride. + +It is slow to travel by this schedule. One can advance by day and rest +by night, but daylight travel and night sleep, while most comfortable +for a man, are the least efficient for a horse. If progress be the +aim, one must adopt the teamster’s system. This involves a start at +midnight, and eight hours of travel at a slow trot,--six to seven +versts per hour. Then, at eight in the morning, a halt for the ponies. +One hour they stand in harness, before getting their quarter _pud_ of +hay; after which comes water, and finally, seven and one half _pfunde_ +of oats. Four hours of halt are involved, in which one can roll up in +his blanket and sleep. Then off again for eight hours of trot, and +another four hours of halt at eight in the evening. So the watches go, +with some hundred versts made daily. + +Noon to-day finds us climbing the hills on foot, to stretch our cramped +limbs and ease the horses, as in old times the English tourists climbed +the St. Gothard on the way to Italy. We are chilled, and racked by the +jar of the road, and glad of even strenuous freedom. Presently we get +on again, and ride down the far slope. It is the camel-boat of the +steppe, this tarantass. + +A solitary gnarled tree shows in the waste of snow--the one seed +that lived, on the barren waste, of all that the Siberian winds had +brought. An eagle is watching from its upper branches. Further on are +higher hills, with trees growing on their northern declivities alone. +No foliage can stand the sun, which steals the moisture and bakes the +rocks on the southern slopes. As we pass one of these isolated groves, +the bald trees are seen to be packed with old nests; for the birds +from miles around come hither, as the only refuge for their eggs. Deer +watch us, standing ten yards off; for these Mongols are poor hunters +and their religion sanctifies life. A lama may not kill even a fly: it +might be his own father, transmigrated into this form for insufficient +piety. A big white hare starts through the trees, stops, and runs +again. Thousands of little marmots scurry to their holes in the plain +at the alarm of the tinkling bells. A kite soars with a marmot writhing +in his claws. Big gray jack-rabbits bound along the road ahead. A troop +of partridges let us pass their wallowed holes six feet away. They +peer up, their heads protruding from the snow, their yellow aprons +glistening like shields, tame as guinea-fowl. At length we drive into +Zoulzacha village. + +One becomes after a time somewhat of an adept regarding quarters. +To-night the village gives a chance. The most promising exterior is +selected, and driving up, we prepare to enter. Cold and cumbersomely +muffled, you worm under the felt hut-flap, and see through the pungent +smoke of the brazier a dim figure seated to the left of a veiled altar. +Bowed over a red-beaded rosary, he is chanting in a low voice, a weird +oft-repeated phrase. He ceases as you struggle in, becomes silent, and +looks up. “_Amur sein!_” he salutes in quiet greeting, and motions you +to a place on the low sheepskin-covered couch, to the right of the +altar, opposite him. + +The open smile of his welcome shows white teeth hardened by the tough +biscuit of his daily diet. You note next, with the pleasure born of +seeing anything good of its kind, the light color and unwrinkled +features of this young man of twenty-five. The gaze of his brown eyes +is direct and frank. He is clean-shaven, his hair is close-cropped, +and he has the appearance of a well-groomed horse. In contrast with +the smoke-blackened, hardship-wrinkled faces of the older Mongols, his +is as a drink from a clear mountain spring after stale drafts from a +long-carried canteen. His color is that of an athlete trained under +the suns of the running-track. His features are defined, the nose not +so flat, the eyes larger than the usual Mongol type. His expression is +earnest and sincere as he now stands up in his robe of rich orange, +trimmed and girdled with red. + +He welcomes the guests without question,--it is the rule of Mongol +hospitality, but you feel for the first time what an intrusion it is +for your great Russian tarantass-driver to shoulder his ponderous way +into the home of a stranger, loaded with your bearskin rugs and rifles +and bags of bread, and to pile them loutishly on the native’s couch. At +the other huts wherein you have lodged, this sentiment has not come so +strongly. Poor places they were: the hardship-lined faces; the soiled +and ragged robes of the women, the threadbareness of the heaped-up +sheepskins on the couch, all these revealed that your two-headed eagle +of silver was needed, and your coming a windfall. But here are no sheep +fenced in, making one feel that standards are superfluous. The fuel is +put away in a basket, the bright fire-irons are ranged in a row. The +couch of polished wood is orderly, and the skin-rugs on it are folded +in their places. The little chests of drawers are brightly polished, +and the yellow cap, with its lining of fox-fur, on one of them is new +and clean. + +But most of all, in the proprietor himself is there an air of freshness +and cleanliness, of youth and vigor, and of self-confidence. When you +burst into a place like this, covered with snow and muffled up in furs, +disturbing the master of the house at his prayers; when your driver +lays the uninvited mattress down in the warmest place, a man cannot +but feel like a thrice-dyed barbarian bounder, even if the home be a +fifteen-foot felt hut open at the top, and situated on the borders +of the Gobi Desert. So feeling, the first impulse is to let the host +know that you are not quite, of intent, what you are by accident,--a +big hulking foreign savage. So you hastily think over what you can +give to put yourself less at a disadvantage. The prized reserve of +milk-chocolate comes to mind. “Will the host have some?” you ask. + +“_Da blagodariou!_” he answers in Russian, to your surprise. + +With mixed gladness at having made good thus far in any event, and +regret at the diminished store of this commodity, you take a little +spoonful of the snuff which the host is now offering in a beautiful +porcelain bottle, patterned in flowers. Then you come back with a +cigarette. Most of these people know what cigarettes are, though some +smoke them with their noses. + +“No, thanks!” and he points to his closely-cropped head. + +Alexsimevich, who has followed into the hut, explains: “You speak to a +priest, he does not smoke.” + +A screen hangs before the altar opposite the door. You look +hesitatingly at it. Without demur, the lama, at the visible interest, +draws back the veil. There, in painted grotesqueness, is Janesron, the +red god of Thunder, and bearer of the lightning sword. He glares down +with his three eyes upon the sunken orbits of a sheep’s head, laid +out as an offering. Black Gumbo, the six-armed good spirit, is also +there, and both are surrounded by attendant demons. All are pictured +artistically, the minute detail of Tibetan workmanship showing in +their squat bodies. The polished wood of the frames is as finely +wrought as a Japanese sword-hilt. + +On the box-top, beneath the gods, are set out in neat array the best +of Mongol dainties. These are disposed in little polished brazen +cups shaped like wine-glasses. There are raisins and dried plums, +caravan-carried from the far-off Middle Kingdom, and lumps of sugar +brought down from Russia in some trader’s pack. Millet fills one cup, +water another; each symbolizing some ancient seizin. A wick, sunk in +oil, flares in the centre, and casts a flickering, uncanny light upon +the deities. Spread on a low seat, six inches above the felt rug on +the floor, are rows after rows of _boba_, the gray Mongol biscuits, in +shape like the thick soles of a sandal. As a centre-piece between the +stacked loaves rests the brown roasted sheep’s head. It is the feast +of the New Year that this unusual volume of offerings betokens. The +old year of the Horse passes with the rise of to-night’s new moon. The +leap-year--that of the Ram--will then begin. All the families in the +_eimucks_ of Mongolia will feast on the grosser part of the offering +which now lies in its ranked regularity undisturbed. For the present +the priest takes light refreshments while waiting for his midnight rite. + +“Will you have some of the tea that has been brewed for you by the old +mother while you were looking at the altar?” asks Alexsimevich. + +It has been made, not from the loosely-packed leaves, but from the +hard tea-bricks. A chunk of this has been cast into the great iron bowl +over the brazier when the fagot-fed fire has melted the ice and has +brought the water to a boil. + +Solemnly you are presented a wooden bowl of tea, which you receive in +both hands, and as solemnly sip. The evening meal is cooked and eaten, +your sugar reciprocating the lama’s tea. + +As the evening wears on, amid the smoke of cigarettes and brass-bowled +pipes, the lama brings out quaint paper slips of Buddhist prayers. + +“You are interested?” He will write for you a charm. “_O mani +padmihom_,” he tells you. “The Buddhist prayer.” + +“Oh, thou jewel in the lotus-flower, hail!” says the interpreter. + +It is mighty, this ancient Buddhist prayer, which is murmured by so +many millions from Japan to Persia, from Malay to Siberia. It is +symbolic, esoterically, of much. The jewel is the soul, the lotus is +Buddha, the prayer, a wish that the spirit be in them which was in +_Saka-muni_, their Lord. On endless rosaries this prayer is told. It is +on the lips of priests and women, it is carved around the stones which +travelers throw upon the _obos_, the “high-places” of Old-Testament +record. It is murmured by the pilgrims as they prostrate themselves. +The disciplined body, the praying tongue, and the mind intent on sacred +things, all incline the soul to the acquirement of merit. + +The lama draws now with his quick hand, trained to the Tibetan script +of the Urga monastery-school, sketches of his temple, _Zoulzacha +Soumé_, of his people’s summer tent of cloth, and winter hut of felt. +He writes out the Mongol numerals, and explains the cycles of years, in +answer to questions regarding the New-Year festival. He describes the +puzzling element-and-animal system, by which the _chére mari_, or earth +horse, is 1907, the _chére khoni_, or earth ram, is 1908, and so on +through a sixty-year epoch. + +He quotes Mongol proverbs come down from old priests and rulers: “One +may buy slaves, but not brothers,” and, in the spirit of Macchiavelli, +“You can govern a State by truth as well as you can catch a hare with +an ox-cart.” + +Now it is nearing moonrise. From his rolled purse the priest draws a +small slip of paper ruled into a half-inch checker pattern, in every +square of which there is a symbolic group of letters. The lama consults +this. Then he brings from the chest beneath the altar a long narrow box +in which are strips of faded paper thick as parchment. On these in red +and black are traced quaint characters, written, as is our script, from +left to right. The priest selects a dozen of his long sheets and puts +them carefully on his couch. He touches the box to his forehead and +restores it to its place. Then he turns and speaks to the interpreter. + +“The lama must make ready for the night of the New Year,” you are +told; and as you look, off comes the red sash and yellow robe. The +young priest stands up in his vivid blue jacket and walks to the +entrance of the _gir_. From a cupboard he takes a towel, and from the +fireplace, ashes. Pouring warm tea into a wooden bowl, he scrubs hands +and face with the vigor of an athlete after a run. Then back to the +cupboard he goes, and off comes the blue jacket for a clean new silken +one. A rich yellow robe is donned. A bright silver knife is slung upon +a new red sash which girdles his waist; and smart and erect as an +officer of the Guards, the lama steps over, prostrates himself before +his deities, then goes out into the night to his temple service. + +“Creeds are many, but God is one,” murmurs Alexsimevich. + +It is regrettable that the rule of lama celibacy prevents the +arrangement of the usual kidnapping marriage-ceremony between this +young priest of Zoulzacha, and Amagallan (blissfulness), the belle of +the Odjick encampment. It is early in the first moon, Sara, of the year +of the Ram, and holiday still reigns in Mongolia. Doubtless she, too, +is a sooty Cinderella at other times; but to-day she is a reigning +princess, dressed in the best that a father, owner of a hundred sheep, +can furnish. A bright new blue coat, lined with fine white lamb’s-wool, +is belted around her rather ample waist with a red sash. Her boots are +of evident newness. But the triumph, the chef d’œuvre, is her pointed +red hat made of the brightest Chinese silk. It is topped with a gold +and black knot and is garnished with gold braid. The flaps, turned +up at the sides and the back, are of a long silky dark-gray fur. A +broad red ribbon fastened behind is brought forward and rests on her +breast. She has a feminine eye to its brilliant contrast against the +blue dress. Two long tassels of pearls, set in coral-studded silver +earrings, frame a rosy, laughing face; for Amagallan is exhilarated +with the consciousness of being very well-dressed. + +The presence of two young herdsmen in dark red and blue, and one lama +of the first degree,--and consequently not estopped from the race, +like a full-fledged priest,--bears testimony to the effectiveness of +the costume and the girl. The wiles with which she distributes a smile +to one, a dried Chinese plum to another, and a mild frown to a third, +reveal even more the universal woman. Amagallan is not at all averse +to adding to her string three masculine Russians. There are only two +foreign nations in Mongolia, Chinese and Russians. Into the latter +class come all stray visitants--Americans, Buriats, and Troitzkosavsk +teamsters. The girl stands up now and greets this American with a frank +hand-shake. She invites him to sit down with the rest. Since there is +scriptural permission to eat meat offered to idols, the fact that the +evening’s feast has stood at the feet of Buddha need not deter one from +partaking of the little dumplings, gray cheese, and dried fruits. +Amagallan hands them out on one of those sole-shaped biscuits, which +serve as plates until one has eaten what is on them, after which they +go down themselves. A fat sheep’s-tail is sliced for your benefit, +while a coarse lump of dusky-looking sugar is an ultimate delicacy, +eaten as candy. Muddy brick tea follows, of course. The Mongol bread is +good, but it takes resolution to do one’s duty by the gray cheese, the +resin-like desiccated milk, and the sheep-fat just seethed. + +A chatter of conversation goes on, the neighbors drift in and out, +and those of our _gir_, as the evening wears on, make excursions to +the other huts and exhibit and drink more muddy tea for politeness’ +sake. The hostess in each tent shakes your hand before feeding you. +The formality makes you temporarily one of the tribe and family, to +be treated with courtesy and hospitality. Thus you are taken into the +social life of a simple affectionate people. + +We meet in one hut a traveling friar who has tramped sturdily from +Tibet, pack on back and prayer-beads on arm, begging, praying, selling +relics claiming to cure rheumatism, and the eye-diseases which the +smoky huts induce. He carries on a pole an image of Gumbo and others +of the _dokchits_, together with a hodge-podge collection of rosaries, +strips of silk, bells, beads, pipe-picks, etc. These are jingled during +parts of his prayer, where it is necessary to keep the god attentive. + +[Illustration: A MONGOL “BLACK MAN”] + +In one hut they are playing the age-old game of _tawarya_. A bag +is produced containing hundreds of sheep’s-knuckles, colored blue. +Everybody gets a handful. Then a girl holds out her fistful of them, +and each man guesses the number. There is a rapid fire of shouted +numerals,--“_niger, hayur, urbu, durbu!_” The one who guesses correctly +gets the handful of knuckles. This person next holds out his fistful, +and so it goes. It is an uproarious sport, interspersed with quite +unnecessary grabbings of disputed handfuls,--part of the game that +Amagallan is playing, even if not germane to _tawarya_. + +Finally through the darkness you make your way back to the _gir_ +in which you are billeted. The wreathing smoke from its dome is +illuminated to-night by the beams from the fire below. It rises in +dimly bright convolutions, beautiful in its small way as the great +Northern Lights. You spread your felt on the floor of the tent and roll +up in your rugs. The teamster needs a timepiece to regulate his hour of +harnessing, for you must start at daybreak. Leave your watch for him on +the altar of the _dokchits_. It will be safe in this hut by the desert +of Gobi, among the remnant of the Golden Horde. + + * * * * * + +The days’ marches have taken us well up among the ridges of the Kentei +Mountains. To the eastward is the peak which, despite the claims of +Urga’s Holy Mountain and of a site near Tibet, has the best authority +for being the burying-place of Genghis Khan. + +In 1227 the great conqueror died. The confused records tell of his +body’s being taken northward to a mountain which was the heart of his +empire, from whose slopes sprang the sources of the three great Mongol +rivers,--the Tola, the Onon, and the Kerulon. Beside its sacred lake +the Manchu Amban of Urga sacrifices annually to the Nature-spirits. +It is both a survival and a memorial to the bloody sacrifice of every +living being on the road to the grave,--a tribute which tradition says +the guards of Genghis Khan’s funeral cortège offered to their departed +chief. + +Huts are far apart in these highlands now, and the whistling winds +pierce the very marrow. The tired horses can hardly crawl forward on +the doubtful trail. Far up in the heights, beside an old caravan-route, +superseded by a newly-cut artery of travel, we come very late upon an +ancient wooden shrine. + +The worshipers have gone. They lived their time in a village near +by, but with the exhaustion of pasturage for the flocks, under nomad +necessity they moved. A new camel-road was tramped out by drivers, who +must find shelter amid habitations. So in the shrine, long unpainted, +the smiling Buddha presides now over his famished altar. + +Very, very old, very, very poor, is Archir the warden, who +welcomes you. For forty years he has watched in his _gir_ by the +dragon-gargoyled gate. The spear with which he stood to his post +of old is blackened, and its red tassel is dulled and faded. A +tattered fringe is along the edge of the felt door to his _yurta_, and +holes are under its walls close to the ground. His pile of wood is +pitifully small, and few are his sandal-sole biscuits. His _shuba_, +sheepskin-lined, is blackened with the soot of years. + +Archir refuses courteously what he knows is a rare foreign delicacy, +a Russian cigarette. “A lama,” he says, “may not smoke.” But his own +hospitality is of the thoughtful kind which comes from the heart. He +hands you a sheepskin softened by long massaging between his trembling +old hands, that his own covering, not your coat, be burned by the +sparks from the brazier. He notices that your tea-bowl is awkwardly +held, and he brings a little table to put before you. He sees your +driver fumbling for a match to light his pipe, and reaches him a coal +with the fire-tongs. He clears his couch that you may sit in comfort. +He offers you the first use of his fire for cooking. + +In the old days many came to pray to the smiling Buddha. The drivers +of the tea-caravans from far-off China left their offerings of fruit +and silk scarves. The herdsmen whose lambs had lived well through a +bitter winter gave sheep fat of tail to the two yellow-robed priests +who chanted and clashed the cymbals through the long days and into +the nights. The little boys dedicated to the gods, shaven-headed, +rosy-faced, crooned their lessons in the Tibetan tongue, sitting on the +floor of the big blue school-gir beside the shrine. Every day pilgrims +on their way to Urga stopped to pray in the _soumé_, and filled the +tent of the young guardian with eatings of noodle-soup and drinkings of +tea, with gossip and with song. + +But all is changed now in his little hut. The rule of non-marriage +he keeps in the spirit, where so many lamas observe it only in the +morganatic letter. This has left him alone in his old age, and +pitifully solitary now that even the dwindling camel-trains, of whose +tea-traffic the Manchurian Railway has robbed them, pass by no more. +The priest is unfed even by pilgrims. These have gone with the rest to +the routes of a better prosperity. + +Archir has seethed his evening meal of sheep-meat and flat pieces of +dough. He has let the fire die down to embers, and has pulled the +covering over the round hole. The freezing winds very soon make his +hut so cold that one feels like a thin shaking uncovered creature even +beneath the heaped furs. One’s ungloved hands grow numb as he lies by +the brazier. + +In the morning we too depart, and like the Roman legionary beside the +Vesuvian gate of Pompeii, the old priest waits, alone, unquestioning, +uncomplaining, till a greater God than he of the _soumé_ shall send the +summons of relief. + + * * * * * + +The mountain-ranges, one after another, stretch their towering barriers +across the path. They trend northeast and southwest, as in Siberia. +First comes the Sharan Daba, the white range, whose pass leads down to +the Iro River, rich in alluvial gold. The streams flow westward into +the Cellinga, whose waters empty into Lake Baikal, and thence by the +Angara River, into the far-off Arctic Ocean. + +Ridge follows ridge now, and valley follows valley,--narrow cuts, with +shallow streams, and huts clustered upon their sides. Out from the +almost deserted borderland, the Mongol encampments are not unfrequently +pitched where there is water for the flocks. If any wood be near by, it +is well, since then the dried dung can be reserved for the smokeless +evening fire when the top hole is closed. + +When the steep mountain climb has been passed, it is as if a gateway +had been opened through the constricting ridges. The broad valley of +the Haragol stretches out. Down, down, we go, onto a plain, in the +centre of which we come to an enclosure with a high mud wall and a +peaked gateway, gaudily decked with red banners and vivid placards. +Outside the mud walls of the compound, far and wide, are checker-board +squares with irrigation ditches between. Huge stacks of hay and straw +are piled up near the gate, the wonder and envy of the nomads, who +never have more than the scantiest store. Within are booths facing the +courtyard. A little temple occupies one corner. Two-wheeled carts are +drawn up along the wall. Troughs and picket-poles are ranged in line, +ready for the caravans. + +Now, around the tarantass, there gather from their threshing the +dwellers of the compound,--coolies from the far-off Pink Kingdom, with +puffy blue trousers and tight-buttoned jackets, flail in hand and metal +pipe in mouth. They stare stolidly without comment at the frost-covered +horses, the robes, and the bearded strangers. Expressionless they stand +watching every movement. Alexsimevich asks a question; no one answers. +We sit for a moment mutually expectant. Not one of the Chinese stirs or +speaks. + +Then André swings down and leads the team through the gateway into +the compound. Alexsimevich leads the search for shelter. We cross the +courtyard to the building which serves for the lodging of travelers. +Its walls are of mud, and a big adobe chimney projects up one side. +Beneath low eaves a small window with white paper panes blinks like +the sightless eyes of a blind man. We stoop, pushing open the crudely +pivoted door, enter the smoky chamber, and the door swings back behind. + +We are standing in what seems an unreal world--a stage-scene or a +cavern from the Arabian Nights. In front and on each side close in +dark windowless walls. Behind comes a feeble light from the little +paper-paned window. In the dimness, a flickering fire throws fitful +gleams on dusky figures, idols, and wearing-gear hung on pegs driven +into the wall. + +As your eyes become accustomed to the gloom, the details take shape. A +clay stove is to the left. Fagots are heaped beside it, copper kettles +rest upon its top, pigtailed figures are crouching around. In front, +a platform, raised four feet above the clay floor, occupies the whole +width of the room and extends back into the darkness. A group of men +are seated, cross-legged, around a little brazier, smoking. Others are +lying rolled in blankets. + +With our luggage André staggers in. No one stirs. Some of the group +around the stove turn their heads to look, but that is all. André +heaps the food-bag and blankets in a vacant spot on the _kang_. We +make room on the stove for our pots to boil the water for tea. On this +self-elbowed place amid the rest we sit cross-legged, propped against +the clay wall. The smoke from the oven, led under the _kang_, warms it +so that the outer coat can come off. A little tabouret some six inches +high stands in a corner, and serves as a table for the repast. + +The shelter is far better, as comforts go, than any of the Mongol +tents. The icy wind that sweeps the latter is barred off. There +is a stove to replace the nomad’s brazier; a warm _kang_ instead +of the floor to rest upon. But how different is the spirit of the +hosts! There are no frank hand-clasps here, no interested gossip and +inquiries of the adventures by the way. No generous bringing out of fat +sheep’s-tails and snuff-bottles for the guests’ delectation. You cannot +but have the feeling that these people are as indifferent to your +existence as they are to the pariah dog that howls outside the walls. +They are exclusive, non-welcoming,--these Chinese. They are strangers +to the land, self-sufficing in their toilsomely cultivated rye- and +wheat-fields, an isolated, womanless, working settlement. + +Despite the better quarters and comfort which these inns afford, one +prefers to go to a Mongol tent and be among men more human, if less +civilized. When the bread is thawed and the tea is boiled, we eat, pay +the Chinaman who gave the wood, and with a sense of relief go out again +to the tarantass and the road. + +For versts now the way is along the alluvial plain, seamed with +irrigation-ditches and dominated by several of these walled Chinese +factories. As the sun goes down, however, there appears a solitary +building, and André gives a glad shout, seeing that it is built of wood +and has windows and big centre chimney. “_Russky dom!_” he cries. + +A low mud wall surrounds the enclosure. Inside some quilts are hung in +the air, that the cold may kill the vermin. A big black dog comes up, +but unlike the scavenger beasts of the Mongol encampments, it signals +welcome with friendly tail-waggings and good-natured barks, approaching +at once as if accustomed to kindly treatment. + +The quilted door of the house opens. A booted figure appears with +the familiar red blouse, and the Russian greeting hails you, +“_Zdravstvouitie!_” + +“An Orthodox Buriat,” says Alexsimevich. + +We mount his wooden steps, shake his hand, and enter the big warm room. + +It is as if one were back in Siberia. The Buriat’s Siberian +wife, in shawl and kerchief, is busy at the whitewashed oven. +Brilliantly-colored comic prints detail the misadventures of the young +recruit, with doggerel ballad rhymes beneath. Chickens peck beneath +the stove, the samovar hums on the table, and figures sipping tea are +grouped around it on the benches, or are lying on the floor enjoying +the genial warmth. + +“Hail, Alexsimevich!” comes a voice; and a tall bearded Siberian, +dressed in a Mongol robe, rises. + +“Aha, Vladimir Vassilivich!” answers our interpreter. “Good-day!” + +A volley of questions at once overwhelms him. The party has been long +away from Kiahta, and we have the latest news. + +“A Kiahta merchant, my friend, and his son,” Alexsimevich explains. + +Overcoats are being doffed, mufflers unwound, and boots kicked off. +The babble of talk continues. A place is made for us at the table, +and glasses of tea, with immense slices of cheese and ham, are placed +before us. When more tea and cigarettes have completed the repast, +Alexsimevich paces up and down, relating with dramatic gestures the +latest gossip from Troitzkosavsk. + +In the midst of his narrative, which all are following with great +interest, there comes an incident of heightened vividness. + +“Sh--sh!” a warning signal sounds. One of the auditors points to a +shape rolled in blankets, and lying on the bench. + +“_Gaspaja_” (a lady), they say. + +Alexsimevich completes his tale in a lower tone and with more artistic +circumlocution. + +But it is the other side’s turn to tell a tale, for why, in the +ferocious cold of midwinter, with--save for this one Buriat’s +house--the Mongol huts only for nightly shelter, why does a lady come +down here? + +The merchant explains: “She has twisted her knee-joint, and in Irkutsk, +in Tomsk even, the Christian doctors cannot heal her. A lama tells us +that warm sulphur-water will soften the sinews, and the bone can be +brought back into place. We go to the warm springs of the Holy River. I +have been there in old times, and I know the way.” + +With pathetic eagerness the party has gone to do the lama’s bidding, +and bathe in the Mongol Jordan. Evening comes. The lady’s bench is +pulled over close to the oven. The merchant and his son lie down beside +it on the floor. Servants and drivers roll up at their feet, and all +sleep, in amity. + +It takes resolution to awake at daybreak and leave the luxury of this +shelter. But when horses are harnessed, riders must ride. The rising +sun comes up over the white plain. The Buriat waves “good-bye” from +his doorstep; the dog barks in farewell, and we lumber on southward. + +A sugar-loaf hill marks the end of the valley. We turn up now into the +mountains, the driver somewhat in doubt as to the way. A boy of about +fifteen years, a yellow-robed lama novice, rides by. Alexsimevich hails +him to ask the road to Urga. A complicated explanation follows, hardly +understood. + +“I show you,” says the boy. + +For a dozen versts he rides along on his pony beside us, chattering and +laughing. When, after a devious trail, the pass is in sight, he starts +off, and will not, at first, accept any present for his trouble. + +Valley follows valley now, the trail fairly well defined. Mongol huts +give a chance for rest and for cooking. A welcome is bidden us in each, +the nearest water is shown, and invitations to come back are freely +extended. + +There is now one last range to cross, the Tologoytou, highest and +steepest of all. Even the mounted Mongols, who have caught up with +our toiling tarantass, swing off and climb afoot. Trees are on either +hand, and the white wall-like face of the barrier passed in the morning +seems a bare verst away. There comes a whole slope of boulders and +rocks, jagged and broken, like the moraine of a glacier. And then, at +long last, we reach the high-heaped Borisan at the summit, with its +fluttering prayer-flags. The foremost Mongol throws on a rock, leaps +upon his pony, and rides twice around the mound. + +“_Argila! argila!_” (bridles free! bridles free!) he cries, and trots +down behind the crest. + +We, too, throw on a stone, and take the steep descent. + +Beyond the low rolling ridges below is the white of the Holy Mountain, +topped with green foliage. Here one may not kill the thronging hare and +deer and pheasants. As we gallop down, the _obos_, the white memorial +monuments, take shape from the snow. In the dark-gray dimness of the +city beyond, green and gold roofs become distinct, lighted by the last +glow of the sinking sun. Huts cluster close now along the road, and the +shadows of innumerable dogs pass and mingle and pass again, where the +gray mud walls and houses begin to be continuous. In the dim twilight +the tarantass thunders into the great wide way which ends in the main +street of Urga. + +Two hundred feet broad is this street. Mud walls twenty feet high flank +it. The gates to the enclosures are closed. The fast-fading light +discloses hardly any passers-by. Save for a distant tom-tom there is +deep silence brooding over the city. A great empty square is entered, +where a few figures are passing in the distance. We approach one of +these, who upon our question lurches up to the tarantass. He is a +Russian clad in Mongol _shuba_, rather the worse for liquor. + +“I will show you,” he says amiably. + +Affectionately leading the horses, he reels down one dark alley, +then down the next, until we come to a second broad street and to an +enclosure with a lantern-lighted gate. A cry brings at length a stir +within. The gate swings open. + +“The _Varlakoff_ house!” says the guide thickly. + +The tarantass is led in, and we stumble through the darkness into a +Russian home of some pretensions. In the main room is a lamp and a +table covered with a red cloth. A glass of tea is available and is +quickly swallowed. Then, tired out, we roll up in our blankets, on the +floor, and drop off to our first night’s sleep in Urga, the Holy City +of Mongolia. + + + + +VI + +THE CITY OF THE REBORN GOD + + +The murmur of many voices pierces the blanket over your head. +Sleepy-eyed in the warmth, you peer out from the chrysalis of coverings +to watch the people moving about. Alexsimevich has extricated himself +from the mound which he constructs nightly on the floor, out of +luggage-bags, felt mats, rugs, and overcoats. Under all the heaped +wrappings that he uses in the icy Mongol tents, he has camped and slept +close up against the white wall of the oven. Truly the Siberian is +brother to the salamander. He pulls on now his big felt boots and runs +a pocket-comb through his beard. + +The wife of our host, come to the door for a survey, notes progress and +returns to the female region. The Hazan Varlakoff, gray-bloused and +wearing deerskin boots, enters next. He lights his first cigarette; his +wife with the bowl of sugar and the plate of bread follows. She has +gotten up earlier than her husband, so she is several cigarettes ahead, +but he is cutting down the lead. + +Perhaps one had better get up one’s self. It is an easy operation +here. “Getting up” consists in emerging from the rolled blankets and +stretching. “Dressing” means pulling on boots. One can wash over in +the corner, where the brass can lets out a trickling stream of cold +water when the needle-valve underneath is pushed up. + +The samovar hums on the red cotton cloth of the table. Varlakoff moves +along to make room. From the little pot of infused tea your glass is +partly filled; then you place it under the spigot for hot water, and +the beverage is ready for sipping. No lemons are here, as in Russia. In +a few Chinese shops one can buy spherical citrons, but they are like +unripe oranges, and are a luxury as great as pineapples in old New York. + +A wool-buyer from Kiahta reaches for the bowl of broken loaf-sugar, +and holds it for you to choose the piece whose size pleases best. The +housewife comes from the kitchen over by her oven-door, bringing some +crestfallen cake which she has made in your honor. + +“_Kuchete! kuchete!_” she commands, arms akimbo, puffing contentedly on +her cigarette. + +We revel in the luxuries of Varlakoff’s room; warmth such that we may +take off the cumbersome outer coats; chairs to sit upon, instead of +crouching cross-legged; hot samovar-made drinks, and a chance to wash +in water. The latter is a privilege which can be appreciated only after +a period of ablutions in lukewarm tea. We stretch out and bask and sip, +and whiff _papirosi_ in epicurean idleness. + +As we luxuriate, one by one the neighbors of the Russian colony come +in, to hear the news of Kiahta from Alexsimevich. The expedition has +become part of the gossip-transportation system. Half the population of +Kiahta must have sent messages here,--half the Russian traders in Urga +have come to receive them. First, there is the general news dispensed +into the expectant ears of the group at Varlakoff’s. Alexsimevich is +for an hour the cynosure. Questions and answers flash back and forth, +going off sometimes explosively like fireworks. Then follow the special +events and the individual messages. At last these are all detailed. +Now come invitations from various men to visit their houses “Will the +_gaspadine_ come?”--“The _gaspadine_ must see the city.”--“_Da! da!_” +echoes the group. + +Varlakoff goes out for his stick and overcoat. The wool-merchant gets +into his fleece-lined _shuba_. He achieves the feat by the usual +Siberian method. Putting the garment over his head, he pushes his arms +through the sleeves, and gradually struggles and writhes up into it +as one gets into a wet bathing-suit. Alexsimevich finishes his fourth +glass of tea, lights one of the _Hazan’s_ cigarettes, and worms his +way also into his deerskin greatcoat. Then out we go into the bright +sunlight and the snow-covered streets. + +[Illustration: TEMPLE OF GIGIN, URGA] + +The houses of the Russian quarter of Urga were only glimpsed in the +dusk of last night. We have daylight upon them now. Squat whitewashed +buildings they are, with neatly paned windows and big square +chimneys. Across the mounds and hillocks of a broad street is the +one-storied Russian Club, where one may drink vodka, play billiards +or cards, and while away the winter evenings. Further on is a row of +shops. The bearded owners stand behind their counters, dressed in +belted Mongol _shubas_ and Russian fur caps. The doors to all the +shops are open, that the Mongols, perplexed with knobs, may not take +their trade elsewhere. Enameled kettles are hanging in festoons down +the walls. The shelves are crowded with bolts of vivid-colored cotton +cloths to be sewed into _shubas_ by the Mongols who ride in to buy. +There are big cases of sweetmeats, Moscowski caramels, acceptable +offerings to the grotesque _dokchits_ on the family shrines. Russian +monopoly tobacco is there, in stamped paper packets for the delectation +of Muscovites and Buriats who have the taste and the means, and +villainous South-China tobacco and snuff for native purchasers. One can +get vodka almost as bad as that of Siberia, and far cheaper, for it is +compounded by a local distiller who rejoices in an excise-less market. +Foreign brandies and wines fill big walls of shelves. + +“_Zdravstvouitie!_” one of the merchants calls, hailing our party. + +“It is Vassili Michaeloff, old friend of mine,” says Alexsimevich. “Let +us go in.” + +We enter and are led back into the private part of the house. + +“_Chai!_” shouts the host to somebody behind the oven. + +“_Haracho_,” comes the answer. + +We all sit down. If any purchasers drift into the shop, they can +wait until we get through our visit, or they can go down the line. +For wherever the Eagles are planted, the Russian joyfully drops his +business to entertain a friend. At the call of “tea” the shovel goes +into the ditch, the ledger onto the shelf, the pen into the potato. If +“_chai_” interferes with business, cut out business. Nor does it matter +in the least that we have just had breakfast; by the rule of etiquette +we must be entertained. “Tea” consists first in a ceremoniously clinked +toast drowned in vodka. Then appears the samovar in charge of the woman +of the house, the glasses, and the sugar. Next follow the cigarettes. +The talk is animated, for its local history absorbs each little world. +The fact comes out that the cousin of Michaeloff has bought a new pair +of horses for a hundred roubles. The price, the quality of the animals +and of the man, all go into the crucible. Kiahta beer arrives as the +conversation turns to the death of one Ivan Vladimiraef, which it is +agreed was not unnatural, since he had reached the age of ninety-odd +years. Still the provisions come. The good wife brings in a heaping +plate of lard-impregnated Hamburger steaks, called “cotlet,” which +Alexsimevich attacks as if his last meal were half a day instead +of half an hour distant. Other bottles accumulate to help out the +dwindling flagon of vodka. We enter upon Château Yquem, Pomeranian, and +Caucasian claret. Then cakes are set out, and more tea, and finally a +quart bottle of champagne. + +Alexsimevich stands to his guns like the 38th Siberians at Tien-tsin. +But it is hard for any one of less rigorous training in this sort of +thing to hold even the straggler’s pace at nine o’clock in the morning. +Mentally we hoist the flag upside down, and wink at Alexsimevich as +the outward and visible sign of the inward and spirituous distress. He +takes the rest of the champagne in a last gulp, and with a series of +thanks we gain the entrance to the shop, where two Mongols and a Buriat +are waiting patiently, looking vacantly around at the crockery. + +We are shown ceremoniously to the door, shake hands, remark about the +weather, give our compliments to the wife, and depart. When at the +corner, we glance back. Vassili Michaeloff is still standing on the +threshold; his three customers too are looking out leisurely at the +people passing. + +“We have thrown his business out of gear,” we remark to Alexsimevich. + +He seems surprised. + +“There is plenty of time. Why should they mind waiting? _Nietchevo._” + +Another host is overjoyed to see us, for an engineering problem of +great perplexity is, he tells us in due course, harassing his mind. No +one in Urga can help him out, but perhaps we will. + +“The Chinese governor, the _Zinzin_, wants to make an automobile line +from Kalgan,” the host announces. “I saw an iron bridge once, so I +agreed to build him one over the Lara River. Have you ever seen an iron +bridge? How shall I do it?” + +You allow that you have seen an iron bridge,--that you have even gone +across one. You suggest that much depends on the river. “How wide is +it, for instance?” + +“I have not picked out the place for the bridge yet,” answers the host; +“but the river is somewhere between sixty and three hundred feet wide. +Have some vodka?” + +“And how deep is the water?” you ask. + +“Well,”--after much thought,--“it is deep in the middle and shallow at +the edges. Have a cigarette! Have some tea! If we build this bridge, +the _Zinzin_ will give us a decoration. How much will the bridge cost?” + +“That depends upon what sort of bridge you build, and how long it is, +and how much material you use!” + +Alexsimevich comes in. + +“You see, the more iron you use, the more the bridge costs,” he +observes. + +“_Navierno! navierno!_ you speak sagely, Alexsimevich. That is what I +told the _Zinzin_.” + +“It must have piers and abutments,” you venture. + +“But the _Zinzin_ does not like piers, because the water was not made +to put such things into. Yet I said with you, one must always have +piers. Here is brandy. Take a few sardines!” + +The problem certainly needs something special for its elucidation. You +ponder, and Alexsimevich and the host breathlessly watch the hatching +of your official pronunciamento. + +At last you deliver yourself. + +“Find out how wide and deep the river is. Then write to a +steel-manufacturing company, to quote prices. They will send a +blue-print of an automobile bridge of the specified length, together +with the weight of the steel. You can buy pieces to build it at so many +kopecks a pound, just like butter.” + +“Ah, my friend, you do not know how great a service you have rendered! +What a providence is your coming! Pray, have some cognac! Will they +send me a picture with piers,--a picture that I can show the _Zinzin_?” + +“Yes,--yes, indeed.” + +“I go to-morrow to tell him of this.” + +We are once more in the street and the banded escort is turning into +still another Russian’s house. Their idea of sightseeing is apparently +to take tea with every Russian in the place. A mild desire is +registered to come in contact with some of the other people. The idea +strikes them in the light of a strange new doctrine. + +“You wish to see Mongols?” one asks. Though surprised, they acquiesce +amiably. “To-day they have holiday; you are favored. Go see the doings +and make me visit later,” says the disappointed third host. + +Then the wool-merchant speaks. + +“Near by is the great temple of Urga, which few have seen, for it is +one of the most holy places of the Lama faith. It is the temple of +Maidari, the Future God. If the _gaspadine_ wishes to see it, I, who +have bought wool from the uncle of the keeper of the gate, can gain +admittance.” + +[Illustration: TEMPLE IN THE URGA LAMASERY] + +For this we start. The Russian section, made up of shops with posters +and signs in Slavonic letters, and homes with centre chimneys and +little square panes of glass, is left behind. Through a long dark lane +we come out into the main thoroughfare of Mongol Urga. The town is +in festival for the New Moon. The streets are ablaze with color. Red +posters are on every door and wall. The brilliant picture is framed +by the snowy girding hills and the green trees of the Holy Mountain +to the south. The tomb-like altars on the plain are dazzlingly white +against the gray-plastered fronts of the houses behind. The gilded +gargoyles of the temples flash in the sun. Down the main street, a +hundred feet broad, go bevies of girls, their hair bedecked with the +gaudiest ornaments of silver and pearl, their silken robes striped +and banded in green alternating with yellow and blue and gold. Lamas +stride here and there dressed in bright orange robes and hats, their +silver knives hanging at their sides. Great shaggy-haired dromedaries +swing past. Horsemen, robed in vivid scarlet and blue and magenta, +dash at full gallop across the wide open _piazza_ in the centre +of the town. A donkey-cart is driven slowly along, crowded with +brightly-dressed girls. A squad of Chinese cavalry trot by in white +jackets, red-lettered. Two of the Cossack garrison swagger past. A +bearded Siberian trader strolls across, clothed in the dark Mongolian +cloak which most have adopted, going toward the Russian quarter we have +just left. A string of oxen plods by, drawing cartloads of wood. + +Walking on, we come to a long line of kiosks which a continuous +procession of pilgrims in holiday attire is entering. In each booth +is a cask-shaped prayer-wheel, a magnified model of those which women +carry, twirling them in their hands as they walk. + +Along this main square of Urga, and girding her city stockade, are +hundreds of these cylinders. All the day long, men and women are going +in and out from one kiosk to another, turning. Some say that formerly +one could enter a great Tibetan temple only after saying a prayer +so long that even a Grand Lama’s memory could not carry it. So, for +convenience, a cylinder with the written text was set up at the temple +gate. By degrees it became the custom, without reading it, to rotate +the petition for a blessing. Others say that the wheels are whirled in +literal obedience to Buddha’s precept to “turn over and over his words.” + +Alternating with the wheels are stone shrines graven with Tibetan +characters, before which, on wooden couches, silken-dressed women are +abasing themselves in abject worship. A long line of pilgrims is doing +the circle of the city. They stand, then drop prostrate in the snow. +Rising, they move conscientiously forward to where their heads touched, +and again lie prone, making thus a penitential circuit of the stockade. +Most are in deadly earnest. Some, hired for a proxy service, steal +forward a few inches on each prostration. + +Suddenly three distant guns boom out. + +“_Scurry, scurry toda!_” says the wool-merchant. “Quick, this way. He +is coming.” + +You hurry forward to where a trail leads across the square. Afar off, +in the direction of the Holy Mountain, is seen a band of galloping +cavalry. The Mongols on horseback around you are drawing rein. The +pilgrims are looking toward the approaching cavalcade. Brilliant red +and yellow are the robes that flutter as the body-guard ride. Now a +rumble of wheels is heard among the clattering hoofs. Preceded by +twenty horsemen, followed by twenty more, rolls down a Russian droshky, +with a yellow-robed lama driving. Propped among the multicolored +cushions sits a clean-shaven, silk-robed man, with puffy cheeks and +tired eyes. The European watch which he carries hangs in anomalous +awkwardness at the breast of his robe; his leg is propped on the front +seat, as if he were lame. Most turn their backs to him in Oriental +honoring; many prostrate themselves in the snow; every horseman in the +square has dismounted. + +“He drives from his palace beside the Holy Mountain to the temple on +the hill beyond the city,” says the wool-merchant. + +“But who is it?” we ask, as the last galloper rides by. + +The Russian looks at us as an old Roman might, if in the Forum we had +not recognized Cæsar. + +“That! That’s Gigin, the Living God! That’s Buddha come back to +earth,--Gigin!” + +You stand a moment to take it all in. Then, despite your purpose of +respect, a smile works to the front. + +At once the wool-merchant laughs gleefully. “Ask Varlakoff about the +Buddha,” he chuckles. “Varlakoff sold him his ponies for ten thousand +roubles. My friend showed him a picture of the ponies, little horses, +you know, and Gigin told him to get them. They had to send to an island +of Europe, Scotland. But Gigin was very pleased. He said Varlakoff was +the only man who had never lied to him.” + +The expression of the wool-merchant was that worn according to +tradition by the Roman augurs. + +“When there is not a holiday, the people have the market here in this +square,” the merchant continues. “I was here in the bazaar with a +friend last week, and we heard a commotion over by that prayer-wheel. +We went up, to find that two of the Buddha’s lamas were borrowing a +fine horse, worth three hundred roubles, which belonged to a Mongol +woman. It was all she had, she told us, and it was being taken to the +Living God’s stables. The woman was in great distress. + +“‘It is mine. I will appeal to the Consul,’ said my friend. + +“The Gigin’s men could not take a Russian’s horse, so they had to give +it up. The Mongol woman came and wept on him, she was so glad. She +brought a gift to my friend. Generally the Gigin returns such borrowed +booty when he has used it a while, but often not. Anything that is new, +the God will buy. These pilgrims, you see, bring him offerings. Kalmuks +come all the way from the Volga, Manchus make pilgrimages, Buriats +come down from north of Baikal, and tribesmen from Tibet. He has half +a million roubles a year from his priests, and he does not care for +anybody.” + +Becoming more and more steeped in celestial gossip, we go past the +gray-plastered compounds piled high with wood and timber, a main export +of Urga. Tall masts with logs suspended from them are the signs. We +reach at last a big stockaded courtyard, the beginning of the monastery +quarters. + +“Come, look in here!” says the guide. + +You peer through the gateway at six of the biggest bronze +_burgoo_-kettles that ever existed outside an ogre’s kitchen. Each +kettle can hold a couple of cows. + +“It is to feed the monks,” says your companion. + +The Mongols are going up to the vessels, with buckets suspended to the +end of a milkmaid’s yoke. They dip up a load. The soup looks like gray +tapioca pudding. What it is made of remains one of the secrets of the +monastery, whose chef is stirring the mixture with an oar. + +A big stockade, enclosing tents and peaked _soumé_, from which the +sound of chattering is heard, appears ahead. As we approach, a whole +hive of boys swarm out and scatter in all directions. Some are in red, +some in yellow, some wear ordinary Mongol caps, some wear high, yellow +sugar-loaf fools’-caps, which fall over on one side. These are the +novices in training for the lama hierarchy. + +The first-born of each family must by immemorial custom become a +lama. In babyhood and boyhood one of these dedicated children is clad +in yellow robes and is especially tended. “_Ubashi_,” he is called. +When about ten years old the boy goes to school, at Urga. He becomes +a _bandi_, or student of the prayers and of the Tibetan language. He +runs about as those we have just seen, and at about twenty he becomes +a _gitzul_, or first-degree lama. Now he shaves head and beard, and +wears a brilliant yellow and red robe. Next he takes the more advanced +examination and catechism, and becomes a full priest, or _gilun_, +forbidden to marry, to kill, or to work. He may continue his curriculum +in one of the departments of the lamasery, studying divinity, medicine, +or astrology. + +In the divinity course a lama will memorize Tibetan prayers, and pore +for years over the big holy books which lie within the chests of the +lamasery chapels. He will repeat the creed over his beads, in rapt +self-hypnotism, meditating in celestial holiness. He will pray down +rain for the grass, and will exorcise glanders from the ponies. + +A priest taking the medical course will gain a knowledge of the +innumerable herbs that grow on the Tibetan mountains, many of which +are of great value as drugs, and are known only to these monastic +seekers. Massage, warm sulphur baths, and waters, are part of his +pharmacopœia. Mixed with genuine instruction in anatomy and medicine, +he will be taught the incantations that cast out _tchutgours_, or evil +spirits, the words of power to be written on rice-paper and rolled +into a pill for the patient to swallow. He will learn what devil is +responsible for the disease which has brought low the lusty herdsman, +and the right order of image to make for allaying the infernal anger. +He will be taught when the fever crisis is at hand, so that the +cymbal-clashers, the drum-beaters, and the prayer-wailers may assemble, +and by these holy noises and a transcendental counter-excitement, lift +the patient over the fever-point. + +[Illustration: A PROSTRATING PILGRIMAGE] + +If he elects astrology, he will be instructed in casting horoscopes of +unfailing value, in reading the stars, predicting their future stations +and the coming of eclipses. He will be prepared to declare the reasons +for visitations of murrain and to track the trail of straying camels. + +Divers are the paths of knowledge, but all may lead to the honor +of Grand Lama, head of a monastery, or member of the college of +_shabniars_, who form the Council of the Living God. And when the great +reaper has called the high priest from his earthly glory, a whitened +tomb will be raised to his memory just outside some town along the +camel-trail, while his ashes will be moulded into briquettes and godly +images, to rest before the gods in the shrine of some _soumé_. + +We have arrived at the gateway to the great temple. The wool-merchant +disappears inside to work his pull. A young lama comes out to the +door, smiles at the foreigner, and then goes in again, and you tremble +lest your advent is being announced to some other than the one man who +can supposedly be “fixed.” This is the most important temple of Urga, +forbidden to foreigners, and seen through good fortune by a few only of +the old residents. But every gate they bar to hate will open wide to +love--and a ten-rouble note. The merchant comes back. + +“We can go in while the lamas pray,” he whispers. + +The uncle appears, with an expectant look on his face, and motions us +in through the darkness to the anteroom of the temple sanctuary. + +From the chamber curtained off at one side comes a low swelling chant. + +“Service begins, you may see it from here,” the lama says, just above +his breath. + +Your station is in darkness, but just the other side of the curtain +are the lamas, and their apartment is lighted by windows. Two rows of +benches extend the length of their chamber, leaving an aisle between +them, reaching from the door to the altar. A score of priests in yellow +robes, with red sashes slung tartan-fashion over a shoulder, are +sitting on these seats facing each other. They are ranged evidently +in the order of their ages. Two old _giluns_, fluent in the Tibetan +litany, sit next the altar. Then come younger lamas, the _gitzul_, not +yet full priests. Finally next to the door are _bandi_, ten or twelve +years old, intense in youthful delight that their part in the ceremony +is to pound as lustily as they can the big prayer-drums. The service +begins with the chanting of a ritual in form not unlike the Slavonic +litanies of Siberia. At appointed times it is necessary to call the +god’s attention to the fact that something is going on in his honor. +At once a most deafening clamor begins. The small boy with a drum is +drowned out by his big brother, further up the line, who officiates +upon a huge wooden cornet, and by his uncle with the conch-shell or +the cymbals. The droning of prayers is like the buzz of hiving bees. +There seem to be no responses, but all of them read together. Presently +comes a sudden clamor, almost like a fire-alarm; then the crash and the +droning suddenly cease. + +“It is over!” says the guide. + +The lamas file out by a further door, and we tiptoe in to inspect the +holy of holies at the heart of the great lama sanctuary. In the dimness +one sees first before him the table for offerings, on which are the two +main sacerdotal instruments,--a silver bell and a silver handle like a +carving-knife-rest,--and row after row of targets made of dough-paste, +of brass cups filled with oil to serve the tapers, of millet, rice, +currants. Behind this altar, towering far up into the hollow of the +dome, is the bronze colossus of the smiling Buddha, Maidari, the Future +God. + +Fifty feet in height, the figure is, cross-legged, with open, painted +eyes. From Buddha’s hands hang long silken streamers. One of very fine +quality is embroidered with the ten thousand gods. + +“This,” the priest whispers, “is a present from the Dalai Lama.” + +A great festival takes place in summer in honor of this god, who will +rule a myriad years hence, when the race of giants descends to kill +mankind and to people the earth with their own kindred. The Gigin’s +elephant is brought out, and he himself takes the lesser dignity of a +carriage in deference to Maidari. Even the gods of the present must +honor the gods of the future. + +The Gigin’s throne is to the left of the statue. It has triple silk +cushions. Around are twelve colossi of Buddha, some ten feet in height, +and entirely gilt save for the red lips and the eyes. The hands are +held in differing positions, folded, outstretched, pointing. Here and +there a silk scroll is hung. + +The walls of the sanctuary are lined with shelves like a book-store, +and these are loaded with statuettes of the ten thousand gods. + +We tiptoe back the way we came, and are soon in the street of the +monastery. The uncle has seen us safely away. We betake our route from +the Mongol toward the Russian section. + +“You saw the throne cushion of Dalai Lama?” the wool-merchant asks. +“They have put it back now. Gigin kicked it out of the temple when +Dalai Lama left. The Angleski drove Dalai Lama from Lhasa, and he came +to Urga to visit Gigin, because here is the second great Buddhist holy +place. Now Dalai Lama is very monkish, very austere, and always prays +and fasts. But our Gigin”--here follows another expansive smile--“Gigin +rode out with his Council, the _shabniars_, and took some of Pokrin’s +best champagne in the cart, for they would not have it in Lhasa. +Dalai Lama was very stiff. Gigin asked him, ‘Have a drink!’ Dalai did +not understand, for drink is forbidden. Then he asked him again, and +Dalai Lama refused rebukingly. They came to Gigin’s palace at the +foot of the Holy Mountain, which is built like the Russian consulate. +After the prostrations, Gigin said to Dalai that he had come far and +few women were on the road and those mostly old and ugly. Dalai Lama +refused that too. Cigarettes and snuff, and canned tomatoes he offered, +but Dalai Lama refused them all. Then, in the Assembly of the Lamas, +Dalai rebuked Gigin, and made him sit below his servants in penalty, +for Dalai Lama is more of a god than Gigin. All the pilgrims came to +offer gifts to Dalai Lama, and Gigin did not get his. For months Dalai +Lama stayed here. Afterwards he went away to China. Gigin came to +this temple then and kicked Dalai Lama’s throne, throwing it down. He +celebrated in the summer palace when Dalai Lama left, for he was very +happy.” + + * * * * * + +Mongol Urga is left behind, and we reënter the Russian town. A hail +from one of the passers-by is not long delayed. “Will you have _chai_?” +he questions. He is an alert-looking Russian, smartly clad in a _shuba_ +of green leather trimmed with sable. + +“Must we eat any more dinners to-day?” we inquire. + +“Only tea,” is the reply. It is not quite reassuring. + +“That is Pokrin, the one that sells to the Gigin,” the wool-merchant +whispers. “Go with him: he can tell you some tales.” + +Obviously one must not miss the acquaintanceship of this modern +Ganymede, cup-bearer of the many-bubbled French nectar and jugged +ambrosia; so on we march to his compound. + +Pokrin was on his way to a business appointment; but no rendezvous will +interfere with prospective _chai_. He hangs his coat back on its peg, +bids his wife start up the samovar, and produces the vodka-bottle. Yes, +his family is very well, and he is very busy buying hides. We talk up +and down and roundabout numberless themes, and at last venture: “The +Gigin!” + +“Ah, the Gigin was here to see me only a week ago.” + +We bow our recognition of the host’s great importance, and he is +started; soon he buckles down into the story. + +“The Buddha came up in his carriage with his lamas riding beside him, +and they tied their horses all around here in front. Then Gigin came +in, walking softly because of his gout, and he said, ‘Let us drink +together like friends, without quarreling.’ + +“I brought out the drinks, and we sat down,--Gigin and I with the lamas +around us. Gigin likes best the strong drinks,--not vodka, but cognac +and sweet champagne. Very many bottles we drank, Gigin and I. And at +last I fell asleep. But Gigin drank still. Then he too fell asleep. In +the morning the lamas carried him to his carriage, and back he drove to +the palace, with the people lying down in the street as he passed. All +the next day I had a very bad pain in my forehead, and it felt large.” + +By non-Siberian standards Alexsimevich should be on the way to similar +symptoms in the near future. For the purveyor to the Divinity has +produced an assorted collection of his wares which are being sampled +with due diligence. Cold meats and wheat-bread appear on the table with +the samovar. + +“We must eat, or he feels badly,” whispers Alexsimevich, as he makes +a sandwich, an inch and a half through, which is about the depth of +brandy in the Siberian highball. + +Other neighbors drift in as the afternoon wears on. The talk turns to +that greatest of local events, the Metropolitan Handicap of Mongolia, +under the high patronage of the Living God. Things become decidedly +stimulating, and the recitals lively. Everybody is living over the +excitement, ejaculating and gesticulating. The child-quality in their +minds keeps so vivid their impressions, that the scenes are projected +almost as by a cinematograph. + +From hundreds of miles around, the herdsmen have assembled. The +plain before the city is a riot of color, as the horsemen ride here +and there. In the centre of the field is the gay pavilion for the +yellow-robed bishops and cardinals from distant lamaseries, guests of +the great Gigin. + +All through the morning, hundreds of riders and horses have been making +for the starting-point, twenty _li_ (about seven miles) distant. The +jockeys are the smallest boys available: young red-cheeked lamas, +perched bareback on the shaggy racing-ponies. The monks, who are +stewards of the course, have with much shouting finally, at the hour, +lined them up in a long row, facing Urga. One thousand ponies have been +reported as entering. It is a regiment of boys. A signal starts the +whole cavalcade together. The thousand small jockeys shout at once. A +thousand whips come down on flanks. Two thousand heels dig into the +ponies’ withers. Over the irregular plain tear the racers, dodging +around gullies, stumbling in marmot-holes, galloping helter-skelter +amid furious yells. At length they come within sight of Urga. Crowds, +mounted, have gone out to follow them in. The shouts redouble, the +people become frantic; the riders yell at one another, and the horses +are as wild as their masters. + +_Shabniars_ and cardinals get to their feet as the cavalcade appears. +The Living God’s heavy eyes brighten up with interest. His chief +soul-mate waves a jewelled hand and chatters excitedly with a lama +of the guard. The foremost rider is close at hand now, the jockey, +wriggling like an eel and almost on the neck of his pony, yelling and +slashing. The field thunders behind. The leader nears the pavilion, +his pony is on the fierce final spurt,--a last cut of the whip, and in +triumph, amid the deafening roar of the populace, the winner passes the +line. Many other riders come in at his heels, but most straggle off +to either side of the course when they see that the finish is lost. +The victor is caught up by the priests and is brought before Gigin, +where he lies on his stomach in adoration. He receives a gift, and is +pensioned for life. The horse’s owner receives a good price for the +animal, which is added to the Gigin’s stable. The mule-cart of the +Buddha is then brought up and he is loaded in. The yellow bishops mount +their steeds, and back to his palace goes the Living God. Thus ends the +great Urga race. + +There are other athletic tournaments during the season; most important +of these is the championship wrestling-bout, which every year decides +whether laymen or clergy are the better sportsmen. The Gigin’s pavilion +fronts a ring, with dressing-tents on either side. From one emerges a +layman. He advances by huge jumps and prostrates himself before the +deity. Next, palms on the ground, like a great frog, he leaps into +the ring. The chosen lama executes the same pass from the other side. +They meet, jumping like game-cocks, with quick breaks. At length the +clergyman gets a leg. In an instant he heaves up on it, and over goes +the black man,--out! The whole assembled populace raises a stupendous +howl. Bout succeeds bout, with differing champions and varying issues. +Partisanship is intense. The clergy usually win in these matches, and +have long held the championship. + +One guest tells to-night of the photographer who bribed a lama, and got +the first photograph of Gigin. The tale runs that this man, a Russian, +secured admission among a crowd of pilgrims, and snapped the god, +unawares, among his entourage of priests. This photograph, enlarged +and colored, is the one now hawked to the Mongols, and which they set +up for worship among their other gods. The lama was beheaded, they +say. That was several years ago, however: since then Gigin has been +photographed at the races and elsewhere. + +At last we break away from the group and return to our lodgings at +Varlakoff’s. + +[Illustration: A GRAND LAMA] + +We are informed next day that among the invitations so lightly and +uncomprehendingly accepted was one to take dinner with the mayor of +the Russian settlement. We are expected therefore toward evening. So, +late in the day, we gird on our greatcoat and move out heavily. Down +the street we fare forth to the house of the host. A fine well-fed +man is this mayor, with the cordial grip and the slow smile of +good-fellowship. He wears a very long beard. He has taken a fancy to +the embroidered green and pink Chinese ear-tabs as a substitute for the +big fur cap of his own people. The ear-tabs are about as appropriate +to his burgomaster build as baby-blue ribbon on the tail of a fighting +bull-pup. Otherwise, deerskin boots and hunting-coat, he is the real +Siberian. In the mayor’s large sitting-room, along the wall against +which the table stands, is a rank of bottles of divers heights and +fatness, like recruits out for their drill. The samovar of shining +brass leads the array. Four different-sized glasses stand at each +plate, and the intervening area is covered with platters of sausages, +cheese, bread, sprats of every conceivable variety, and a medley of +cold _zakuska_ dishes. + +The mayor reaches for the vodka. + +“Please, none!” we blurt out. + +The mayor looks hurt. Then an idea takes form in his head, and he +shouts something to his Chinese boy, who promptly shuffles through the +door into the street. + +Out of the window we catch a glimpse of him turning into the +establishment across the way, where Pokrin’s clerk sells the +wherewithal to make a Russian holiday. The Chinese boy emerges with a +bottle, and trots back across the street with the curious gait made +requisite by the unattached thick-soled slippers. He shuffles into the +dining-room and makes space for one more bottle. Whiskey! The mayor has +bethought himself of the English label, and has sent for it, on the +theory that not to drink, like not to sleep, is unbelievable. + +Evidently one must again sidestep, so _chai_ is besought and got down. +Our virtue is rewarded, for the host smiles and is content. + +“Poor Pokrin!” he says presently, reminded of the man by the beverage. +“He made over a hundred thousand roubles from selling things to the +Gigin. But now he can’t think of any more things to sell. You saw the +Gigin’s new droshky? But that isn’t like selling an elephant or an +electric-light plant. Pokrin is down to pelicans and fountain-pens.” + +He shakes his head sympathetically, and reaches anew for the +vodka-bottle. He goes on reminiscing, half-cynically, half-regretfully, +of the past, while dinner to serve the appetite of a Cyclops keeps +coming on. + +In the midst of the repast cries arise outside. A Mongol with a flow of +language is heard calling aloud for “_Bulun Darga!_” (fat policeman.) + +“They are after me,” says the mayor resignedly. + +The Mongol comes hurtling in, pushing past the Chinese boy. + +“Fat policeman,” he cries; “Red Mustache and Long Nose and Blue Coat +are drunk, and are disturbing my _gir_. Come quickly, O Lord, fat +policeman.” + +The mayor sighs. “I go”; then he turns to us. “Will you accompany me?” + +“Gladly, if we don’t have to eat any more.” + +The mayor considers this a back-handed compliment to the amplitude of +his hospitality and smiles. + +“_V period_, it is not far.” + +He puts on his huge greatcoat, draws on his ponderous boots, takes +a heavy stick, and in vividly embroidered Chinese ear-tabs stands +ready to follow the Mongol. We shoulder open the felted door. From the +low-ceilinged recess between this and the outer door he produces two +other big sticks, like pilgrim’s staves. These he hands to his visitors. + +“For the dogs!” he explains. + +The Mongol’s hut is soon reached. It is in frightful disorder, and +vodka-bottles are strewn around. The mayor looks up in a little book to +see if Krasni, young Agueff, and Pugachev are not, as he suspects, the +men who in native nomenclature are called Red Mustache, Blue Coat, and +Long Nose. He finds that he has rightly surmised. + +“I know them,” says the mayor. “They will come around to me in the +morning. I will tell them to make the Mongol satisfaction. When they +come back and say he is satisfied, I tell them to be good and to do +this no more. _Nietchevo!_” + +The irate man is jollied along, and is told that it will be fixed up +soon. Consoled and soothed by the protection of authority, he admits +it was not so bad after all, and he bids us, as we leave, a grinning +“_Sein oh!_” + +“Now,” says the mayor, “will you not come and see Urga at night?” + +He leads along an icy back street, black as a canyon, with the bulging +mud-plastered walls, twenty feet in height, so close that a cart can +barely pass between them. Not a light is seen save as a ray pierces +the shuttered planking of some compound door. Distant clanging of +cymbals and far-off echoes alone break the stillness. Out from the +gloom of the street we come into the open _piazza_, half a verst wide. +It is unshadowed, and less dark. Threading the heaped-up refuse we +stumble on. The black crows, with lancet-like blood-red beaks, which +search the heaps by day, are gone. The black cannibal dogs wake and +growl as we approach. + +“They are afraid of a stick and don’t generally attack people. But, +if several do come at you, crouch down and stay perfectly quiet,” the +mayor counsels. + +He then tells of the Cossack who last year, passing by a dog that did +not move aside, drew his sabre and struck the beast. As soon as the +other dogs smelled the fresh blood, they became mad, and half a dozen +came at him. He put his back against the wall and slashed among them. +Many he cut and wounded, but more came and more, in an instant. Soon he +was pulled down, for hundreds were upon him. + +A big black-furred brute looks insolently at us as we pass. + +“They do not bury the dead here, you know,” the mayor says. “The +corpses are taken to the mountain northward outside the town, and are +left. It is cold to-night. There will be death in the market-place +where the poor lie shelterless. And the dogs wait beside them.” + +A little way off, where the prayer-wheel stands, is the twinkling +light of a shrine. The new moon and the few brilliant stars are +frigidly distant. They cast a pale white glow now on the dimly outlined +walls and huts. A beggar, lying unseen, calls suddenly as we pass his +heap of sodden hides. The six-foot Siberian hunter by our side cries +out as he stumbles over and beholds a something, partly eaten, guarded +by a great cannibal dog. + +If the thought of the rights of man has drowned sympathy with all that +concerns the government of Russia, visit Urga at night, and the Cossack +of the Russian Guard, swaggering along among the Chinamen,--this +Cossack whom you have heard execrated as the “knout of the Czar,”--will +look to you like a Highlander at Lucknow. The chance to absorb an +unwholesome amount of tannin by way of a samovar, and to sleep on the +floor beside the oven in the whitewashed house of Michael Varlakoff, +will become a privilege more prized than any possessed by His Holiness, +the Living God. + +The section of the Russian colony in which we have been lodging +consists of five hundred-odd traders. They have drifted down from +Siberia, and on the free ground of taxless Urga have established their +shops of gaudy European cloths, enameled cooking-utensils, candles, +and cutlery. These Russians, whose whitewashed many-paned houses fill +a quarter of the town, have not the large interests watched by the +English merchants, who dot the globe with their agencies. They are +small Trans-Baikal shopkeepers, transplanted bodily. They build their +houses in the Siberian way, and their wives toil personally at the +oven. They wear blouses and felt boots as the house-dress, and keep the +ikons in the corner. Prosperity is evidenced in the striking-clocks, +the lamps, nickeled samovars, and curtained double windows. But they +are still not many removes from the peasant. + +There is, however, another section of Urga’s Russian colony, grouped +around the consulate, a large compound situated a verst east of the +Mongol town, which was built in 1863, and was fortified in 1900, +against the Boxers. Within this compound are the Orthodox Church, the +Russian doctor, the rooms of the twenty Cossacks of the Guard, and the +great empty barracks of the two _sotnias_ that were sent here in Boxer +times, and were, to the regret of their compatriots, later removed. The +barracks are still ready for any future visits, and the breastwork, +with its stake and fosse lined with barbed-wire, is equal to any force +which from a five-hundred-verst radius can assemble against it. + +In this quarter, the Russian consul is autocrat. He is the official +notary, without whose stamp no contract is legal, the chief of police, +the guardian of orphans. Around him revolves the society of the few +dozen mondaines of Urga, whose personnel consists of the officials, +the garrison officers, and some half-dozen commercial agents, single +generally, or with distant families. They conduct their bachelor +quarters through Chinese servants, and their cuisines are helped out +by all the canned and bottled delicacies that can be ordered from the +frontier. The gold-mines, and the extensive wool-trade which produces +a commerce of twenty to thirty millions, demand that first-grade men +watch the interests of the great companies which handle the business. +So men of the best cosmopolitan Russian type come, at salaries +proportioned to their sacrifice. They gather in the consulate evenings, +or sit in the fenced-off boxes at the theatrical performances, which +periodically come down from Kiahta. + +A few families who have made their sixteen-day camel-trip from Kalgan +and Peking have foregathered here with their household goods and gods. + +Buttressed by the companionship of books, this other class lives +in splendidly-furnished rooms, with pictures purchased in Paris, +statuettes from Rome, and grand pianos drawn for days over the passes +by laboring oxen. One converses at the consulate in French, the mother +tongue of none, but the common tongue of all. The few favored guests, +who are invited of necessity over and over, play chess endlessly in the +evenings. The ladies read the latest French novels, or sing the songs +that distant friends have sent from the Riviera or St. Petersburg. + +They drive in imported carriages and sleighs for the afternoon airing, +and bemoan Nice and Monte Carlo in winter over the pages of Zola’s +“Rome.” The men subscribe extensively to English, French, German, and +Russian periodicals. They invite such relatives as can be persuaded for +lengthy stays, and shower a guest with the hospitality of old claret, +caviar, and the varied courtesies which the rarity of visitors from the +world inspires. They take long adventurous horseback trips in the dull +season,--explore forgotten monasteries, study the Tibetan inscriptions, +print monographs on the folk-tales, and dream of promotion and +Petersburg. + +The consulate has one uniquely circumstanced personality, whose career +is a romance of Eastern adventure. Born in the Baltic provinces, he +studied in the Oriental training-schools, and entered the Russian +diplomatic service at Peking. Here he applied himself indefatigably, +until he knew the Chinese language as did hardly another European. He +could write the ten thousand ideographs, and could speak flawlessly the +Mandarin and the popular dialects. He went to Mongolia and mastered its +languages also,--its spoken idioms and its written grapevine letters. +Then, with his diplomatic entrée, his knowledge of men and tongues, +and the initiative of an adventurer, he launched his grand coup in the +palace of Peking. + +He carried away the sole right to the gold of two _eimucks_, a +territory as large as France. Not a Chinaman may pan the metal, not a +Slav may open a mine, save through this concessionnaire. A third of all +gold washed,--these are his terms to those who would lease from him; +just double what he pays the Peking Yamen for his privilege. Fortune +upon fortune he is reported to have made, and the Chinese gold-washers +and the Russian miners who lease from him have gathered their own +stakes, too, despite the Cæsar’s tribute which he exacpts of all that +they produce. + +He has spent large sums in bringing down machinery, to do on a +great scale what the shallow veins of ore demanded should be done +on a limited scale. An abandoned gold-dredge lies far up the Iro +River, transported piecemeal at exorbitant expense over the hills. +Traction-engines are here, which could not cope with the Mongol +roads. They consumed forty days going one hundred and twenty miles +to the largest mine. Now they lie rusting in their sheds. Thousands +of ox-carts were engaged for hauling in the various purchases. River +steamers and great oil-drills scattered over northern Mongolia are +relics of his ambition. + +His brick house, finely furnished, and his brick smelter stand hard-by +the consulate. The Russians tell of masons imported from Sweden to +build them. The life-history is a bizarre record of great things +attempted by a man whose overleaping ambition stopped nowhere, and +whose expenditures more than once brought him down. But his interesting +meteoric career continues, and twenty _pud_ of gold are said still to +come down yearly from the mines to the most picturesque character in +Russian Urga. + +We drive down with one of the officials, to be present at another of +the events in Urga’s meagre happenings--the arrival of the mail. + +The Russian post, one delivery a week, crosses Mongolia. The horses +bring in three mails from the Russian frontier. From Urga to Kalgan, +the camel-post guarded by Cossacks, traverses the great desert of Gobi. +Save the Imperial Chinese telegraph, it is the only regular method of +intercourse with the outside world. The two thousand-odd roubles a year +paid by Russia as a subsidy are a small expenditure for the opportunity +of accustoming the people to her service, and for controlling the +avenues of news and communication. + +The post-office is at the consulate, and a new postmaster has just been +installed. Thereby hangs a tale which is poured into your ear before +your stay in Urga has been much protracted. + +A telegram came from Irkutsk to seize and bring to Verhneudinsk as +propagandists the postmaster’s son and daughter--twenty-one and +eighteen. Twenty Cossacks surrounded the house at three in the morning. +The two were arrested, taken to the mayor’s house, and lodged there. +The next day they were started on the trail to Kiahta. Once over the +border, there would be no more hope. Quickly the leading men of the +colony assembled and telegraphed the Russian ambassador at Peking, +knowing that if the ambassador had official cognizance, he could not +safely authorize an arrest on Chinese soil by the Cossacks of the +Guard. The response was delayed, but there was pressure enough upon +the consul to get the prisoners held at the mining-camp beyond Iro +until the answer was received. At length the ambassador replied that +Chinese suzerainty must be respected. The two were free. But the +father had been advised to resign his post and accept a station which +was offered him at Kalgan, where there were only three Russians, all +warranted proof against propaganda. + +Beyond the Russian consulate, six versts, is the Chinese town called, +as are many of these trading-posts, Maimachen, or place of trade. One +can get there by the solitary Cossack-driven droshky that the Russian +colony supports. But more appropriately we go on pony-back, borrowing +an army-saddle and a purple fleece-lined _shuba_, whose skirts reach +around the knees, and whose long sleeves fold over the hands, keeping a +rider reasonably warm in cold weather. + +The houses of Mongol Urga are soon left behind, the stockaded lamasery +is passed on the left, and we are on a big open plain. A few minutes’ +gallop takes us past the consulate. Beyond it stands a compound girded +by a stockade of saplings, within which are the low mud walls of +straggling houses, amid which the gilded eaves of a more pretentious +residence lift themselves above the rest. + +A troop of pig-tailed horsemen trots past: the white tunics of the +riders are covered, back and breast, with red ideograph letters, +which stigmatize the bearers as of the lowest caste--soldiers of the +Celestial service. The man in front holds aloft a gilded pear-shaped +standard, and between the ranks lumbers a covered cart with closed +shutters. The cavalcade wheels to the right and turns in, dipping the +standard as they pass under the gargoyle-tipped beams of the gateway. +Servants come running out of the great house. From the cart is helped +down a Manchu of pallid face and short gray mustache. That wooden +house, girded by mud huts, is the seat of government for this greatest +_eimuck_ in Mongolia. The figure robed in cheap blue cotton is lord of +life and death, the _Zinzin_, Viceroy for the Emperor of China. + +This Manchu Viceroy, and his _Tu-T’ung_, or lieutenant-governor, who +represents Chinese authority in the city of Kalgan, are responsible +for the collection of tribute, the administration of justice in the +cities, and the maintenance of order. Over the Chinese inhabitants in +the Maimachen the rule through the agency of the prefect of police +appointed by the Viceroy is direct and absolute. + +Over the Mongols, Chinese rule is exercised in an irregular nebulous +fashion, with some force in the centres and almost none in the outlying +districts, where the old nomad organization of society, with princes, +barons, or _tai-tsi_, clergy, and ordinary black men, still persists. A +code of Chinese laws exists, but in general justice is dealt out by the +local princes, or _guns_, who receive also the cattle-tax in some +districts, and who go by turns for a year to Peking in symbol of homage. + +[Illustration: CHINESE MANDARIN] + +[Illustration: GIGIN, THE LIVING BUDDHA] + +These Mongol _guns_, ruling over each of the _hushouns_, or counties, +which compose the _eimucks_, are under feudal obligations to the +Chinese Emperor. Their visible subjection to China consists of +ceremonial visits with tribute, for which the Emperor’s return gifts +are of far greater value. A total of one hundred and twenty thousand +_lens_ of silver ($90,000) goes yearly from the Emperor to the nomad +nobility. A khan of the first rank receives two thousand _lens_ ($1500) +and twenty-five pieces of silk; lesser gentry in proportion. + +This primitive aristocracy lives in barbaric state, with splendid +carpets, silver-inlaid furniture, and jeweled accoutrements. The women +are sometimes very good-looking. They are laden with ornaments, furs +and silks, and have a spot of carmine on each cheek, which is the +prerogative of a princess. But the normal imagination does not go +beyond the gir as a dwelling. Finely fitted it may be, yet it remains +a one-room hut, with the open brazier in its centre. Their wealth is +in ancestral ornaments, and in the flocks and herds of their private +domains. Their one relic and memorial of a past sway lies in the +custom under which the Chinese rulers call by the old Mongol names the +_eimucks_, which were the ancestors’ kingdoms. That of which Urga is +capital still bears the name of Tu-she-tu. + +The Mongol lords are responsible for the feudal army, and a caste +of bannermen exists, who are paid nominally two ounces of silver per +month and a supply of grain, with the corresponding duty of keeping +their bows and arrows in order. In the Tu-she-tu khanate of the eastern +Khalka tribes, there are twenty banners, each under an hereditary +_yassak_, or tributary prince. In 1900 some banners of the Barukhs +turned out to fight Russians, but they made no showing whatever, and +hurriedly returned after a skirmish with the Cossacks. Spears and +arrows are the only weapons the Mongol army can show. + +While this feudal system applies in general to the whole _eimuck_, in +Urga the Gigin has a unique position. The city is a great monastery, +practically all of the permanent native population of fifteen thousand +being priests. The laymen who are there are mostly pilgrims, or +dependents upon the Church. Over these the Gigin is master, so that +Urga is known as “The Holy Living God’s Encampment.” + +Over the Russians and the Buriat tribesmen, the Chinese have no +actual sway, and from them they collect no taxes. The Russian consul +is dictator to this little flock; and behind his stockade, where the +tricolor waves, rally the Orthodox in times of danger. + +Across from the _Zinzin’s_ doorway is a spiked stockade. Inside, where +they have been thrust through a hole just big enough for a man’s +body, are the miserable criminals. In the big pit dug with their +naked hands, the wretches cower, shelterless, under the terrible cold +of winter. They live or die there, sometimes fed by the charity of +Mongols, sometimes forgotten, sometimes purchasing miserable fragments +of offal with the unstolen remnants of the prison allowance. Few +waste sympathy on the inmates. The low level of existence of those +outside makes the place perhaps less terrible than it would be to +people who had known other conditions. It is a grim Chinese jest, this +loathsome prison for those who have stolen bread in the market-place, +set opposite the palace of the grafting governor who has filched the +tribute of Tu-she-tu. + +From the Chinese city now, there begins to come the distant throb of +drums and clash of cymbals. Three gorgeous Mongols gallop past in their +splendid free-reined horsemanship. A sentry stalks to the door of +the stockaded prison, and looks toward the gray walls and temples of +Maimachen. The procession of the New Moon is to pass to-day. + +You leap onto your little Mongol riding-pony, and spurring him into +a gallop, hasten along the way to the Chinese city. He tears down +the broad road. The resplendent trotting horsemen take the pace as +a challenge, and yell joyfully for a race as their whips come down +on their own horses’ flanks. Mongol girls walking hand in hand along +the highway scatter and call out as the riders clatter by. It is +contagious. Soon a score of riders are shouting, shaking bridles, and +lashing ponies, and it is a cavalcade of racers that gallops up to the +gate of Maimachen. + +How different is this Chinese settlement from Mongol Urga! It is a +magnified replica of the city at the frontiers. Instead of the straggly +avenues a hundred yards broad, with cañon-like alleys flanked by +high mud walls, all the streets are so narrow that two strides cross +them. They are lined with miniature booths. Through the bars of their +paper-paned windows one sees the little delicately-tinted pictures of +pagodas and of Chinese girls, in quaint sweeping outlines. Red and +black and gold, the New Year placards flame on every post and wall. +Lanterns are hung before the gateways; green saplings stand sentinel +by the doors; and in the unshuttered compounds innumerable lines of +gaudy banners are seen, strung from side to side across the courtyards. +From the houses come from time to time a thrumming and a picking of +strings in minor music, broken by an occasional clang of cymbals or a +drone of beaten drums. You pass a temple of marvelously carved wood, +wrought into curves and flowers and arabesques, with eaves turning out +into open-mouthed dragons. Everything is brilliant in paint and gilt--a +blazing kaleidoscope of color. + +In a friendly courtyard the horses are tied, and you walk into the +teeming streets. All the Chinese of Maimachen and half the Mongols of +Urga have come out to-day. Here is a little shifty-eyed Chinese clerk, +in his low shoes, with white soles several inches thick, his white +stockings, tied at the ankle, showing below the baggy trousers. + +Here is a young Mongol lama, who hails you gleefully with a Russian +word which he has learned from a Buriat, and points out where the +procession will emerge. A Mongol woman passes, gorgeously dressed in +flowered yellow silk, with red, sable-cuffed sleeves so long as nearly +to touch the ground, and her head cuirassed with the burden of silver +ornaments. She smiles at the burly Mongol camel-driver who so openly +admires her. + +A Chinese merchant, with red-buttoned cap, attended by a servant, is +pushing through the crowd. His looks are surly; perhaps he is thinking +of the whereabouts of his own establishment in this carnival. + +Though the rich and wifeless Chinese may acquire Mongol companions, +they cannot buy or give affection. For a poor Mongol, who has the +sincerity and humanness which the Chinaman withholds, one of these +Mongol concubines will either deceive her master, or, if he object too +vigorously, will strip herself of his presents and go to her lover’s +_gir_. + +A big Celestial with a fuse comes hastily through the gateway from +which the procession is to emerge. The crash of his firecrackers +startles the Mongol ponies pushed close along the houses. Beneath +the multi-colored gateway, next pour out a score of horsemen with +pennanted spears. They ride two by two, in white coats with red letters +on their breasts. Then comes a crowd of footmen, who fill the street +in a torrent. The curious Mongols press to each side, and watch the +procession of their alien overlords. Two ranks are robed in vivid red, +and carry poles with big gold knobs. Blue-coated Chinamen, with cymbals +and shrilling fifes, follow; then come more horsemen; then the great +silken umbrella, and a gray-mustached dignitary on horseback,--the +chief of police; next, more fifers and wand-carriers, six abreast. +With fireworks and clashing music, the vivid ranks in red and blue, +and yellow and gold, and green and purple, and every other conceivable +combination of hues, make their way around the stockade and back again +through the gated city. + +The crowd seems to be trending now toward a brilliantly colored archway +spanning the main street. With the Mongol holiday-makers we follow +along into a cloistered courtyard flanked by peaked temple-like houses. +A crowd of Chinese is pressing around some one clad in blue, who has +just stepped out between the beater of a tom-tom and an artist with a +big pair of cymbals. A preliminary flourish introduces the performer--a +pasty-faced young Chinaman. He starts a rhythmic chant whose cadence +is within a note or two of one of the old crooning Negro melodies of +our South. Over and over again he chants it. A poet this is. He has +conned his verses, and now comes out to sing them. He ends with a +special swirl in what is evidently a very comic climax. The drum and +cymbals crash out once more, and another chanter comes--this one +old and feeble, with a curiously penetrating voice. He drones a long +hexameter-footed epic, in which the harsh Chinese _gh_ and _wh_ sounds +are not so coarsely enunciated as in the poem of the first reciter. +“That is one of the old legend-singers,” you are told. It is such a +ballad as Homer sang, or the Welsh bards chanted. It is the poetry +and the history of the long past, the immemorial past, far before the +infancy of other nations; for China keeps alive her antiquity, and in +her old age never forgets. + +[Illustration: CHINESE ARCHWAY, URGA MAIMACHEN] + +This week there can be no buying or selling. The Moon must be honored, +but visits are in order. Your friend brings you to meet a leading +Chinese merchant. At the house, a grille of thick wooden bars runs +down to the street level from the eaves just above one’s head. Looking +through them, one can see over the little square window the most +delicately-traced pictures on a white background. The panes are of +paper, all save one, which is of glass, so that the owner may see if, +coming down the street, any one turns and climbs the three steps into +the ordinarily wide-open door of his house. + +The home of our host, which is likewise his office, is finely fitted up +and faultlessly clean. His light-blue silk robes are immaculate. Two +servants wait at table, bringing in the best of China tea and French +“petit-beurre” biscuits for our delectation. Everything is appetizing +and orderly. + +As we are sitting over the cups with the Chinese merchant, the boy +comes to announce visitors, and two blue-robed fellow countrymen enter. +One has a strip of light-blue silk laid over his two arms, which he +stretches out. The host extends his own arms and receives it, then +gives it back to the newcomer, who goes down on one knee and again +presents it. The merchant takes it a second time and bows, this time +retaining it. The two guests bend and leave the room. “New Year’s +presents,” the merchant explains. Again the boy comes in and announces +a guest. A Mongol messenger enters, goes down on one knee, and presents +a red slip, black-lettered. “Visiting-card,” the host explains. Then, +with a smile, “White, like yours, not polite.” He accepts this too. +“_Ch’ou Ta-tzu!_” (the dirty Tatar!) he says as the latter leaves. + +The calls continue, and our visit. The host is charming, cultured, +educated; he speaks English well, and lacks in no attention. But +you wonder if, when you leave, he is not going to murmur about you, +“Yong-kwei-tsz!” (foreign devil!) + +Throughout all intercourse with these Chinese, one has always the +uneasy consciousness that one is doubtless, as with the card, +unwittingly offending. There are three hundred rules of ceremony, +three thousand formulæ of behavior, regulated by a classic tradition. +The ritual is so drilled into the Chinese as to become instinctive. +Celestial breeding would dictate that the little formalism which +precedes a rubber, “May I play to hearts, if you please?” be stretched +to cover every action of life. The left, not the right, is the place +of honor, and to enter a room facing wrongly is a slight. An irregular +method of folding a red New-Year’s card, and the failure in writing +to raise one character above the level of the rest, are breaches of +etiquette. + +For our race there is always felt, behind the soul-mask of Chinese +eyes, a contempt. The kindness of our host to-day is unfailing. Yet we +are not at ease or sure of the ground. Errors, condoned to keep face, +are often inwardly resented. If you put your hat on the Mongol’s altar, +everybody in the hut will yell out for you to take it off. When you +remove it, they will nod understandingly as the interpreter explains +that the ignorant foreigner transgressed inadvertently. Forthwith all +is forgotten in an enthusiastic discussion of the last case of botts +among the horses. But with these Chinese one can never tell if, by +taking a chop-stick between the wrong fingers, one has not intimated +that the host’s grandfather was a cross-eyed coolie soldier. No one +will challenge or set a man right, but the breach will be silently +resented, though the tea continues to be smilingly offered. + +The old-time Chinese dealers at Urga grew enormously wealthy in the +tea-trade to Kiahta. These have mostly gone back to China. But there +are still a number of the better-class merchants whose wares are sold +to the traders and by them to the Mongols. The house of Liu-Shang-Yuan +claims two hundred years of establishment. The Urga people are still +prosperous, for great sums in religious tribute come from all Mongolia +to this Lourdes of Lamaism. There are also many Chinamen who make large +profits from wool. + +Of a total trade in Urga estimated at twenty-five million roubles per +year, nine tenths is in the hands of Celestials. The remainder is +Russian, for the Mongols are entirely without a merchant class. Of the +exports, wool is the main item. Some two hundred thousand _puds_ are +sent from Urga annually, four fifths of which go to the United States. +While cotton cloth, cutlery, kitchen-utensils, and other European +goods come down from Russia, the bulk of the imports are brought from +China by caravan, through Kalgan. Silks come from Shanghai, and tea +from Hankow, passing via Peking. There is trade, too, with Ulasati in +western Mongolia. It is the centre of a fur and hide country which is +isolated from outlets toward Russia by the high mountains, and must +send caravans to Kiahta. Its communication with China is either by Urga +and Kalgan, or by the caravan-route further south. + +When the holiday-time is over we see more of the Chinese traders. +Sitting in the shops, with one of these, and glancing out over the +little counter of the sales-room, we converse as the customers come and +go. + +The Russian in his shop shows all he has of wares, the red and magenta +cloths, the enameled kettles, the cutlery and sweetmeats. But the +Chinaman wraps his goods in hieroglyphic-covered papers, and all that +can be seen are rows of long-stemmed brass-bowled pipes, and an array +of silver and bronze teapots on shelves at one side. Very rare things, +too, our Chinese host can produce. Shanghai silks of finest texture, +ten roubles the _arsheen_; jade mouthpieces for the pipes at a hundred +_taels_; Hankow tea culled from the tenderest shoots. Everything is +labeled and systematized in the Chinaman’s place, and he goes at once +to the packet which he wishes to show. + +A dozen Chinese, with bright blue silk jackets over their black +surtouts, invade now the home of the merchant. The red knot on their +black skull-caps and the length of their queues and finger-nails show +them to be men of some importance. They take off the bright-colored +ear-tabs as they enter. They are down to buy wool. To-day they visit, +next week they will trade. Then all but one will sit in the outer shop, +while the spokesman alone will go into the inner room and confer with +the merchant. From time to time the spokesman will go back to the party +and consult, till in the end the bargain is made. They will all hold +to the agreement, too, whichever way the market goes. For in this the +Chinese are inflexibly honest. A local Chinaman dispatched a mounted +messenger the six versts to Urga, to return to us twenty kopecks which +he had overcharged by a slip of his abacus-adder. + +Yet the Scotch engineers saw shells in the arsenals loaded with clay +when the native troops went against the Japanese. The English miners in +the Province of Shan-tung have had their profits cut to nothing by the +official “squeezes,” and Chinese have bought in the depreciated stocks. + +The ethic code of the squeeze seems to be very nice. It is a point of +honor, almost always scrupulously observed, that the first-fruits of +official graft go to repaying the one who advanced the money to buy the +office. A Chinaman, who could not be trusted to administer honestly +a trust fund of a hundred _taels_, will repay this obligation to his +backer. Thus must he keep face. + +From the tax-appraiser who numbers the sheep to the civil governor +who receives the lumps of silver tribute for transmission to Peking, +every official gets his squeeze. They say in the _eimuck_ of Ulasati, +where sables are part of the tribute, that the officials take out the +best furs and put back poor skins to keep the number the same; and in +Urga, that the enormously rich administration takes a Tammany third +of the tribute. There has never been a viceroy yet, it is reported, +who has left Mongolia poor. Yet each official plays straight with his +backer, his “belly-band.” Very curious is this race, and there live few +Westerners who can at all understand it. + +We ride back in the evening from the Chinese city (for none may stay +for the night), buried in recurring reveries. How brightly glitters +the face, and how barren is the heart in Maimachen! Never the thousand +ties of kinship and affection, never the thrill of citizenship, never +the love of a home. How little generosity, too, or sympathy for the +people of the land! The Mongols are but “tame barbarians,” as of old +were stigmatized the tributary Formosans. Now and then one finds a +Chinaman out among the nomad Mongols. Perhaps he may be a watcher at +a distant temple, perhaps a telegraph-operator on the two lines that +go, one to Kalgan and Peking, one to Kiahta and Russia. Always he is +something solitary--different. There is an almost sinister splendor in +this aloofness--this self-sufficiency of walled cities and compounds +where none but Chinese may dwell. What a rebuff of nationhood in the +gates that shut out at night all save the alien outlanders! What +contempt in the law that no woman of China may come among these Mongol +people, as if the very air were contamination! How the natives are +silently despised, whose bodies in death go to the dogs, while the +Chinaman’s, in a casket, is sent back over the long leagues to his home! + +The homeless, wifeless, Chinese city, with the quarter of Mongol women +without the walls,--it is in many ways typical of all Chinese rule in +Mongolia. For, as the Celestial trader defaults in the duty of marrying +the Mongol mother of his children, so China defaults in many of the +duties that are inherent in suzerainty. One resents the heavy Chinese +yoke on the necks of these simple frank-hearted Mongolians. They are +a race of great good-humored children, and they are exploited while +disdained. + +We are thinking of this unfairness as we ride back along the road +to Urga. Behind is the distant Chinese city, the Manchu Viceroy’s +straggling palace, the picketed prison-stockade. Before is the drooping +tricolor banner of the Czar, and the white and green of the Greek +Church, with its far-seen golden crucifix. A crowd of brilliantly-clad +Mongols, lamas and laymen and girls and youths, are strolling back from +Maimachen. They are laughing and chattering, and in uncouth playfulness +are pushing one another about across the road. + +Half a dozen of the _Zinzin’s_ Chinese foot-guard are likewise coming +from Urga, stolid-faced, superior. As they reach the tumultuous band it +sinks into silence, and the men crowd to the side of the road that the +Chinese may pass. + +[Illustration: THE GREAT WALL] + +They tramp by without a glance. Then out from the Russian barrack-gate +swings a little Cossack in his great black sheepskin hat, gray +tunic, clattering curved sabre, boots and spurs. He is one of the +Zabaikalskaia Buriats, whom Russians call Bratskie, the brotherly +people. He speaks a tongue so similar to the Mongol that all these +people can understand him. They look up to him as a rich relative, +fortunate in overflowing measure. For on the pilgrimages of Buddhist +Buriats to Urga, their wives have told the wondering Mongol women +of the sewing-machines which they have at home to stitch linings, and +have allowed the visitors to peep into their mirrors. The Mongol men +have admired the Buriats’ breech-loading rifle, worth six horses at +current quotations. They have enviously heard tell that in Russia one +pays no cow-_alba_, but the young men get a uniform and free food when +they ride out to give their Cossack service to the Czar. They have +listened to Buriat boasts of the warm houses of Siberia, and stacks of +hay, and stored-up harvests. So Mongols smile when the Buriats come to +their _girs_. They say, “Rich smooth Buriats! Great lords! Give candle, +give sugar, give tobacco, give vodka.” + +Has not a little Zabaikalskaia Buriat reason to swagger when he starts +from the Russian barrack-gate to see his lady in Urga? And should a +Cossack of the Czar step aside for a Chinaman in the shadow of the +Eagles? Head erect, with a look to right and then to left, hand on +sabre, he swings straight down the centre of the road, and right +through the Chinese soldiers. Without dispute they open a way. He +chucks a not unwilling girl under the chin as he passes the Mongols, +and he is good-naturedly hailed by the rest: “Hello, Cossack! Why so +fast? She has gone away with a lama.” And he goes a bit faster toward +Urga. + +These Cossacks, terrible in war, friends and equals with the conquered +in peace, are those who have held the Russian vanguard in this march +to China,--the march which began when the two _hatamans_ of Moscow, +commanded by Ivan the Terrible, started in 1507 on their long tramp +eastward. The Cossacks it was whom Yermak led to the conquest of +Sibir. Through them, in storm and stress, despite oppression and +convict-gangs, with faults and failings, omissions and commissions, the +advance of Russia has been the way of civilization where none could +otherwise have come. + +“It will mean much when a Russian railway follows our trail from +Kiahta,” says Alexsimevich; and André adds: “They will all be glad when +the Cossacks come to Kalgan.” + + + + +VII + +RUSSIA IN EVOLUTION + + +New times have come to Russia with the events that have halted her +armies. The Slav, looking and reaching outward, has been hurled +violently back upon himself, and he turns to look inward. The stream +of Slavic civilization still flows eastward. But now held back at +the frontiers, its tide is rising behind the impounding barriers +and is lifting on its wave the level of national life. Its scour +is undermining here and there, its laden currents are depositing +and filling in the interstices of the social fabric. The struggle +is intensified to achieve representative government, to secure +administrative reform, to relieve the distress of the peasantry. The +people are in evolutionary throes and are sweeping forward in the arts +of peace, in the science of government, and in the myriad lines of +internal development. + +The movements of empire-advance have been noted because they have been +conspicuously visualized. But the economic and social growth have been +only slightly regarded by our western world, intent upon great events, +crises, conflicts lost and won. The seizure of a hamlet in Manchuria +has obscured the founding of twenty cities in Siberia. + +The continent-cleaving Siberian Railway has now revealed, in the +Russian occupation of northern Asia, not an exploiting colonial +enterprise, but a race-movement akin to the European invasion of our +Aryan ancestors. The upward struggle of a people striving to find +itself is embodied in imperial rescripts and armed revolts, in dumas +and dynamite, where rival titans grapple for the throw. There is now +therefore in the world a more earnest watching of this metamorphosing +Russian people. What are the types of civilization, the beliefs, the +manners of thought, the institutions that are to hold mastery over the +largest area on the globe occupied by a single nation? + +To comprehend a people and the course of its evolution one must pierce +below the surface of ephemeral and contemporary incident, and probe +the primitive racial elements. Russia is to-day iceberg-like. The +crumbling, upper ice, honeycombed by eating waves, is exposed; but +submerged and unseen is the massive blue block beneath. Because rotten +surface-structures are obvious, many fail to appreciate what lies in +the depths. There comes understanding for much when one sounds the +ancient sources in race-history. + +From the earliest times Russia lay across the path of incessant +invasion from Asia. In 1224 the Mongols swept down upon the old +Scythian plains. There were no mountain fastnesses in which the sparse +population could defend itself. The followers of Genghis Khan, through +the years that followed, destroyed town after town,--Bolgari, Suzdal, +Yaroslavl, Tver,--devastated Volkynia, and Galicia, until all Russia, +save Novgorod, was brought under Tatar rule. Their devastations cut +off the population of whole provinces, and changed old Russian cities, +such as Kiev, to hybrid towns of Asiatics. At Sarai on the Volga, for +two centuries Tatar sovereigns ruled; and here from being pagan they +became adherents of Islam. Russia’s foreign master was confirmed in a +religion as antagonistic as was his race. To these aliens Russia gave +humiliating homage and paid tribute, and from their khans her czar +received permit to rule. Thus in her infancy she had a foreign race, +not as servile members of the humble labor class, but in the wild, +fierce scourge of conquerors. + +Throughout this period many Russian princes married into noble Mongol +families, and Mongol officers formed alliances with the Russian +boyars. The Muscovite aristocracy had already grown into strong +Oriental proclivities from contact with its southern neighbor, the +Byzantine, and these became confirmed under the Tatar. One czar, at +least, Boris Godunov, was of Mongol birth. Incessant war harassed +the people. Alexander Nevski, of Novgorod, beat back the Swedes; +but, abasing himself, he went to the Tatar khan with the tribute of +a country too feeble still to resist him. By and by Russia began to +rally and to strengthen her centres, Novgorod, Kiev, and Vladimir. +Moscow arose--that small destiny-city where Simon the Proud, even +in vassalage, dared to dream of unity and nationality, and took the +title of “Prince of all the Russias.” His grandson made the first +great stand against the Mongols and won in the field of Tula, which, +with the fights of Alexander Nevski, gives to chroniclers and bards +their early Russian ballads, or _bilinî_. Moscow, punished cruelly, +was razed almost to the ground. But the Bear was aroused and goaded +into desperation. Russia reeled to her feet, and for nearly a hundred +years she fought, she lost, she fell; but she rose again and fought +on, until at last the power of the Tatar terror was broken and the +tyrant was driven over her border. Still, for a hundred years more, she +was forcing back his inroads, and rescuing the winding trains of her +children, toiling over the southern steppes to be sold as slaves at +Kaffa. This was Russia in the last quarter of the sixteenth century. + +That Europe was spared this, she owes to the Russian. Through those +crucial centuries when the Slav, weak, torn, anguished, beset with +foes around and foes within, was standing grimly at the perilous +portal of civilization, Europe, within the temple, safe by his grace, +was privileged to work up into light, to cement her nationalities, to +effect the liberation of her masses, and to develop her intellect into +the magnificent promise of a printing-press, a people’s Bible, and a +Shakespeare. + +But to the brave warden of that portal there was not the sweetness and +the light. For him were the seams and the scars, the mutinous passions +of the strife. Long after the clouds of the Dark Ages had cleared from +the face of western Europe, they hung over Russia. The Slav was back +in his Dark Ages yet, heir only to a barbaric experience. Here he +must start, where Europe had started nearly a thousand years before, +where America, in the favor of Providence, was never to be called +upon to start. For him were the memories of subjection and the blood +of contention; but also, in relief, to him were the stolid patience +and endurance which were to serve him so well. He groped along in the +shadow until the coming of the great Peter. + +But now arose a man. He, too, had dreamed the dream of empire,--vast, +masterful. He set about making his dream real. He found Russia a small +inland state, torn by faction, barbarian, and Oriental. Though himself +the descendant of a long line of Byzantine kings, half monk, half +emperor, he saw with the insight of genius, and he knew that that way +did not lie greatness. Therefore fully and fiercely he broke with the +past and set himself to the future. + +Between him and that future stood the Strelitz. The walls of +the Kremlin, and the Red Square told the doom of their barring +conservatism. He warred with the Turk, he fought the Cossack, he +routed the Swedes, again and again, taking whole provinces on his +Baltic outlet and securing the coveted Neva. He embroiled himself with +Persia, and through Baku opened a way to the Caspian. Then, with a high +hand, he swept out the customs that made for Orientalism. He broke the +seclusion of women, the prostrations, banished the caftan, the beard, +and the flowing robes. He lifted his people bodily and violently out of +their past, and set them down face-front to a new order. The Russia he +had received a province, he left an empire. The Russia he had received +Asiatic, he left European, and already a force in Europe. And when +arose one of his own blood--a reversal--who would undo the herculean +labor of this master-builder, who would give back to Sweden those +priceless, wave-washed Baltic provinces, and, restoring the capital to +Moscow, return to an Oriental estate, the patriot was stronger than +the father, and at the price of his son’s life he bought the progress +of Russia. Here in this man, who died in 1725, we can truly say that +Modern Russia begins. + +Through this skeleton history can be traced the structure of the modern +state, as in the struggle for survival may be found the root and early +warrant of her governmental system. Every element, physical and ethnic, +was, and still is, a handicap. Russia is not protected by the ramparts +of the sea; she is surrounded on all sides by nations with whom her +history has been that of perennial conflict. In place of a compacted, +well-peopled country, she has an empire extended gradually from frozen +Nova Zembla to Afghanistan, from the Danube mouth to Behring’s arctic +sea. She is a land of many distinct peoples, as foreign to each other +as Lithuanians and wild Kirghis; as alien in religion as Catholic and +Mohammedan. She is divided into one knows not how many tribes, numbers +of them completely barbarous. Her eastern and south-eastern frontiers +call for defense across vast and vacant stretches. Her northern and +western borders are occupied by Finns and Poles, unforgetful forever of +their own days of sovereignty, naturally and rightly jealous for the +memories and the prerogatives that are its legacy. + +With the eastern problem living from the first on her immediate border, +with her many tribes wayward, Russia early strove to fuse her empire +into national unity. In old Poland had been seen the fearful price +which feebleness and disunion pay to fate. How much greater was the +menace to polyglot Russia, were her master-grip to relax! That she +should hold a strong hand over the elements that ever threatened her +disruption was the first national necessity. This supreme obligation +to herself in her entirety compelled a firm, commanding, centralized +authority. The mould that was to shape such metal had need of rigidity +and unyielding strength. To meet these race-desires, not as a +purposeless tyranny but as the fruit of a long evolving system, arose +the autocracy. + +The system reached its climax in the most absolute administration of +modern times at the period of the American Revolution; the “Government +Statute of 1775” meshed all things and all men into the institutions +of despotism; Russia groaned under the iron rule of a Nicholas, yet +rejoiced in the belief that strength was there, and sure defense from +domestic disunion and foreign aggression; then, in the Crimea, came a +revelation of the inefficiency of the bureaucratic juggernaut. Despite +the stubborn valor of the defenders of Sevastopol, despite the gallant +efforts of the aged autocrat, the glory of Russia went down in the +blaze of her city and her fleet. + +The old régime had failed. Even the Czar, before he died, could read +the lesson but could not act. How pathetic the words of the failing +monarch: “My successor may do what he will, I cannot change.” + +With the accession of Alexander to the throne in 1855, on the sudden +death of Nicholas, came the first effective steps toward modern +institutions. The young czar, a self-declared friend of progress, +raised regally the standard of reform. All Russia rose to the hopes of +his idealism. Corruption in office, which had before been rampant, was +crushed out by the sheer force of public opinion. Pamphlets circulated +freely, uncensored. Meetings were everywhere held to discuss the varied +plans of a vivified government. With a whole nation become to a degree +transcendental, the Czar began his reign and his reforms. + +First of all for righting, as it was first in evil, came serfdom. +Summoning commissions of his ablest advisers, seeking counsel of the +proprietors and their coöperation in an act of self-abnegation, the +Czar proceeded to the execution of his great task. For three years +every side and every phase of the problem was studied. Then at length +with a fundamental law which forecovered every detail of the situation, +Alexander II put his signature, February 19, 1861, to the great Ukase +of Liberation. + +In Russia’s past there is much to answer for before the judgment-bar, +in omission and in commission. Yet, giving but justice to ruler and +people, it must be allowed that the measure which freed the serfs +ranks, with Magna Charta and the American Constitution, among the +mightiest agencies of advance that mankind has ever known. A dependent +population of nearly forty-six million souls was given liberty. The +great act was accomplished peacefully, and the measures were executed +without any trouble worthy of the name, in a spirit equitable to +the old owners as well as to the serfs. Not alone were the latter +released from bondage, they were provided, one and all, with land and +livelihood. They were given, in everything that concerned their local +administration, entire freedom from interference by their old masters +or by the members of the Administration. The righteous deed that the +American Republic achieved nearly three years later liberated but one +ninth the number of the Russian bondmen. It did so at the cost of the +deadliest fratricidal war of modern times, and the impoverishment +of one quarter of its people. All the work of the Freedmen’s Bureau +through the Reconstruction period could not insure to a tithe of the +Negroes the opportunity for a livelihood,--this that Russia provided +inalienably for each of her liberated. To this day the American Negro +in many places is under special civic disabilities more galling than +those imposed anywhere in the Russian Empire. + +The protection of the former serfs was skillfully arranged by grouping +them in self-governing village communes, to which land enough was given +on a long-term repayment basis. In each, by an assembly composed of all +the heads of households, periodic allotments of the common territory +were made to the individuals. Compact economic units, whose property +could not be sold, were built up against alienation of the land or +poverty-induced peonage. The rendering of justice in local disputes was +delegated to the peasant courts,--the only tribunals in Russia, save +the National Senate, from which there is no appeal. + +The Mir, complete within itself, was responsible to the Imperial +Government for good order and the taxes, and was secure from +molestation provided these duties were fulfilled. Its inhabitants, +united and independent, were able to resist any encroachment by +their former masters or by neighboring landlords. + +[Illustration: THE KREMLIN, MOSCOW] + +It is not unworthy of note that up to the present time the liberties +in economic matters thus granted have rarely been infringed by the +authorities, nor have the village assemblies been exploited as a play +in politics or to attain personal ends. While agriculturally and +industrially the communal land provisions have become insufficient, +cramping, perhaps baneful, and no longer necessary now that society +is in equilibrium, nevertheless the germ of free institutions +fecundated in the Mir, when dissociated from its communal features, is +admirable still, and is capable of becoming the foundation for real +self-government. + +Plans for provincial assemblies as a further extension of local home +rule had been under consideration since 1859. On January 1, 1864, an +Imperial Ukase was promulgated instituting Semstvos in thirty-three +governments. To this assembly, proprietor and peasant, rich and poor, +elected their representatives. Each Semstvo was to appoint its own +executive to carry out the laws it decreed. + +The jurisdiction of this assembly, though confined to local and +non-political matters, was wide. Rates, streets, convocations, posts, +sanitary measures, famine-relief, fire-insurance, schools, agricultural +improvement, all land, house, and factory taxes (those upon imperial +as well as those upon private domains), were given into the Semstvo +control. It was granted partial powers over various other minor +matters. It exercised practically all the economic and social functions +of local governmental activity save what fell to the Mirs. It was +welcomed as an epoch-making institution. The liberal press of the +period hailed it as a living guidon of the upward way, as the blessed +daylight of a constitutional government. + +So indeed it might have become. In the new Emperor’s mind there +germinated a whole peaceful revolution. He had plans for new +courts of justice, reorganization of the army, reform of the civil +administration, and popular representative government, with an elected +national chamber. + +But in the midst of his reforms broke out the Polish insurrection. +The Czar had granted to the Poles elective councils in each district +of government and in the chief cities; he had appointed a Pole his +Minister of Public Instruction, and had made many concessions to their +old language. Iron and blood crushed out the insurrection, but it had +brought to the great Czar Liberator the conviction that liberty spelled +disunion for Russia, and this belief was never to be dispelled. + +Upon the Semstvo assemblies, no longer uplifted by the old generous +enthusiasm of the sovereign, pressed little by little the dead weight +of executive officialdom. One by one their functions were lopped away. +More and more the selection of delegates was transferred to the +administrative officials. The marshals of noblesse became chairmen, +the governors vetoing overlords. Before the death of Alexander II, his +once-cherished creations had lapsed from independent state legislatures +into anomalous, semi-advisory councils, discussing roads, land-taxes, +agriculture, and schools, and controlled by the land-owning nobles and +the governors. Semstvo and Mir and Assemblies of the Noblesse became +ornamental trimmings to the colossal edifice of the bureaucracy. + +The assembling of all the functions of government into the hands of +the executive became again the guiding principle of this system. “The +Council of State,” whose office was that of discussing the budget and +law-making proposals, was the simulacrum of a parliament. The Senate, +which gave decision on special points appealed from the lower courts, +and whose promulgation of all enactments was the hall-mark of their +legality, was a form of supreme court. But both hung from above rather +than rested on a substructure. They were substantially cut off from +popular influences, their function was secondary action following +origin in the executive bureaus. The Imperial Autocrat, deriving his +right from Divinity alone, exercised, in addition to his executive +functions and his duties as supreme commander of the armed forces of +the State, those powers which by a segregation of functions would have +fallen to the legislative bodies and the judiciary. In this, the ten +ministries were his main agencies. + +Under this system, legislation was inaugurated through the presentation +of a project to the Czar by one of his ministers, or by outside +petition, or perhaps by the imperial wish. + +The proposed enactment, if the Czar ordered it to be further examined, +was referred usually to an Imperial Commission of Study. Debates +followed in the Advisory Council of State, and the completed bill, as +framed by this body, was signed by the Emperor and became a ukase, to +be formally promulgated by the Senate and enrolled as part of the law +of the land. Interpretations of law were made by the Ministers, which +none might gainsay. Thus was the legislative function absolute. + +In the provinces the three functions of government were equally +centralized. A governor (almost invariably a general or an admiral) +through his subordinate executive officers duplicated in microcosm +the system of the capital. The dependent Semstvo was his Council of +State, the dependent judges composed his Senate, the dependent Semski +Natschalniki, his executive ministers. Into his bureaus came the +details of provincial government save such matters as the villagers +settled in their own Mirs. The troops of the district were at his call, +the gendarmerie under his orders carried out the judicial arrests and +the drumhead condemnations that sent so many thousands along the road +to Siberia. + +In the placing of these proconsuls and their sustaining soldiery was +applied the Roman rule, “Divide et impera.” The head officials of the +provinces were from distant parts,--the Governor of Warsaw from Tiflis, +the Governor of Odessa from Samara, the Governor of the Amur from +the Baltic. The Orthodox Cossacks of the Don were in force among the +troubled Poles and Jews of the western governments; the drafts from +the peasantry of Little Russia garrisoned Tiflis and Turkestan, and +Siberian regiments watched the Austrian frontier. Even the popes sent +to petty village congregations were generally of far-off origin. + +Though power was thus alienated from the people, the bureaucracy, by +other agencies rooted deep in human nature, had twined itself around +the daily life of society. + +Every ambitious man in his profession, as he succeeded, was marked for +promotion. Not only to office-holders and soldiers, but to everybody, +throughout the whole social fabric, were “chins” or graded ranks given. +Here for example is a selection from one of the lists of the Czar’s +Christmas announcements:-- + + Appointed members of the Council of State: Privy Councilor Kabylinski, + and Von Kaufman, Senator, Minister of Public Instruction, President of + the Supreme Court. + + Decorated with the St. Stanislaus Order, First Class: Major-General + Hippolyt Grigerasch, Director of the Department of Physics and + Electro-technology at the Nicholas Engineer Academy and School. + + Decorated with the St. Vladimir Order of the Third Class: + Major-General Michael Hahnenfeldt, on the staff of his Imperial + Highness the Supreme Commander of Guards in the St. Petersburg + Military District. + + Valentin Magorski, Doctor of Veterinary Medicine, Chief of the + Veterinary Staff. + + Alexander Pomeranzev, Professor of Architecture. + + Dimitri Sassiyadke, Governor of Radom. + + Michael Mardarjev, Censor of Foreign Papers and Journals. + + Advanced to the ranking Chin of actual State Councilor, hereditary + “honorable citizen” Constantine Popov, founder and director of the Tea + Emporiums. + + Raised into hereditary “honorable citizenship” of the 3d gild, the + Archangel merchant Emil Brautigam. + + Given personal “honorable citizenship,” Vladimir Ritimoun, Proprietor + of the Wollner Typographical Establishment; Karl Volter, Captain of + the steamer _Emperor Nicholas II_, of the Riga Navigation Co. + +When a professor from his books was called up before the highest +provincial dignitary to have pinned on his lapel for honorable service +to the Empire the Order of St. Stanislaus, it was hard for him not to +have a warm sentiment for those who had so signally recognized his +talents. When on the document which recorded the promotion of a royal +prince to a colonelcy was enrolled the name of a tradesman; when a +neighboring doctor was raised his step in civil rank, each felt the +touchstone. All who had served well in their respective positions +might hope to be on the honor list, and this was the most effective +tribute to the weakness, the worth, and the ambition of human nature. + +In Russia, as in France under Napoleon’s iron yoke, there was a welcome +to every sort of ability, and its elevation to posts of the highest +trust. The aristocracy sought for was one of power, not that of a small +birth-caste. A fundamental democracy ran through society. Save for a +few of the Guards regiments, the army was officered by poor men. The +Cossacks’ officers were chosen from among their own people and were +state-trained. In the knapsack of every soldier was Skobelov’s baton; +in the desk of every chinovnik, Witte’s portfolio. + +So stood the bureaucratic edifice, complete in itself. Here and there +a popular embellishment was added, perhaps to strengthen, often to +conceal; but in grim reality it formed no part of the structure. Thus +the Russian Empire finished out the nineteenth century. With the +twentieth the system had come to trial for its stewardship. + +In the great reckoning are elements both of good and of evil. The +liberation of the serfs and all that went with the emancipation stand +as a credit. It is a further vast credit that Russia has made, held +together, and civilized an empire of over eight and a half million +square miles, with a population of over one hundred and forty million +souls; that to the internal development of her splendid resources +the Government has vigorously set its hand, seeking for her rivers +unhampered navigation, for her canals larger passage, for her deserts +great irrigation works. Already the Siberian Railway links the Baltic +and Pacific; already on the southeast the tracks creep to the threshold +of Kashmir, where some four hundred miles separate the Russian lines +from those of British India. This gap once crossed, Calcutta becomes +but eleven days distant from London. It is still another credit +that, despite Slavic limitations and financial loss, in the face +of Western invention and competitive leveling, the country of the +cheapest telegraph and the cheapest railway rate was until recently +not America but Russia. It is a credit that the public land has been +put so efficiently and generously at the disposal of the people, that +any emigrant expressing a genuine purpose of settling will be given, +wherever he may select it in Siberia, a liberal homestead, and he will +be conveyed to it over the Trans-Siberian Railway for a sum less than +the cost. He is not only allotted his homestead, but he is supplied +with seed, grain, tools, and advances for his first years of marketing. + +It is again a credit that the governmental attitude to the industrial +classes has not been one of oppression. True, work-hours are +unrighteously long and certain strikes have been put down arbitrarily. +Still the Russian labor laws and arrangements for the settlement of +labor difficulties are in many features conspicuously statesmanlike and +just. Some years since, a body of Belgian miners, fifty or more, with +their families, were transferred from the collieries of the Meuse to +the Donetz Basin. Recently these miners, at a meeting of the directors’ +board, presented a memorial to this purport: “How happy are we who are +no more in Belgium, but who live and work in Russia! No longer must we +support the socialistic committee. On the day of pay we put our hands +in our pockets and have it for our wives and children.” + +The other side of the ledger is, however, not without weighty items. +While no system of government can legislate prosperity, the public +welfare is rightfully the first test, as it should be the first +consideration, of an administration. Despite her immense territories, +her vast mineral deposits, her fertile soils, her navigable rivers, her +abundant timber, all the natural sources of national wealth, Russia +is very poor. The peasants have more than doubled in number since the +allotment of communal fields that followed the emancipation, and they +are in general want. Vast stretches, whole provinces, are subject to +periodic famine. Millions of the people are constantly on the brink of +starvation. Manufacturing is, as a rule, desultory, undeveloped, and, +in general, unprofitable. + +The per-capita wealth of Russia is estimated at but two hundred and +seventy-five dollars, as compared to Germany’s seven hundred dollars, +France’s eleven hundred and twenty dollars, and England’s twelve +hundred and thirty-five dollars. The savings-bank deposits reported +for all Russia average but $2.75 per man, while in France they average +$20.82, in England $15.00, and in Austria $15.68. + +The degree of administrative responsibility for this condition is +of course not to be definitely laid down. Much manifestly is due to +natural conditions, national character, and historic handicaps; and +some of the resultants would be the same under any administrative +policy. Russia in her great area has had a sparse population. She +has not, like her sister nations, and preëminently America, been +able to lay the rest of the world under teeming contribution to her +citizenship. She has had only her natural increase, and no such +record as that of the United States has been possible. The Slav is +not commercial, but agricultural. He has remained poor, and has had +relatively very small resources to devote to what have proved our two +greatest developing forces--internal improvement and education. + +It is, however, a matter directly involved in government that, with +this low standard of national living, there is the correlated fact of +extremely high national expenditure. An immense budget of two billion +roubles, ordinary expenditure, is annually met, which the war-loans +raised to a total, for some years, of over three billions. + +[Illustration: DRAGOON CONSTABLE RUSSIAN TYPES] + +It is the general belief that a large part of the public funds is +frittered away in needless waste, with multitudes of idling clerks +and sinecure officials. Granting the benefit of doubt, assuming +that the Administration’s corruption and inefficiency are exaggerated, +and supposing that the public money is in the main honestly and +productively spent, it is still a very serious question if any public +service rendered by the agents of Government can correspond to or +justify the immense burden of taxation heaped upon a people whose +economic distress is so terrible. + +The weight of the tax-levy crushing the peasants, whose improvident +habits aggravate their want, is, for most, unescapable unless they +follow the emigrant’s road to Siberia. The rate-gatherer can take +anything the mujik has, save his last coat, his last horse, his +seed-grain for next year. He is, with fateful frequency, forced to hire +himself out to whoever will use his services, and this during the brief +summer season which is so supremely essential if he is to attend to his +own crops and fields. One landowner relates that he has seen paid an +average of five roubles ($2.50) a month for farm-laborers, including +men, women, and children, during June, July, and August. + +Under the old system the method of rate-levy on the “souls” in a family +weighed inequitably. Census revision was delayed in one instance, +personally related, by over twenty-three years. A family taxed, +twenty-three years before, on a father, four brothers, and two adult +sons,--seven souls,--was still assessed for seven males, whether the +family had increased to twenty, or been reduced to one. Each member of +the household was responsible for the total. + +It is related that whole families in Samara, reduced by the fearful +cholera epidemic of some years back from scores of men to a dozen or +ten, had to leave their home-country for Siberia to escape the load of +their dead brothers. + +Discussing the economic loss of the years of military service, one of +the country nobles related an incident. He told of ordering the dead +leaves and branches cleared out of his lake. Ordinarily, he said, he +did not go near the work or let the peasants come near his château, for +there was a good deal of class-hostility where he lives. But he was +interested in the lake because the branches were killing some specially +cherished fish, so he went down through the woods and was surprised +to see nobody working. All the men were crowded round a peasant whom +he had cited as an example of those who, though unlettered, had great +capacity. This man had served seven years in the navy and could neither +read nor write, a commentary upon what the service training was. He was +declaiming on politics, and the squire stepped behind a tree, for the +peasant spoke musically and well. The man was telling about his naval +service: “Seven years on the boats I have been, brothers, and every +three months I got ninety kopecks to buy a string for the crucifix and +to cut my hair. I had no money for tobacco, none to send home to my +wife in all this time, and I came home without a kopeck. Seven years +of my life I have given to the Czar. What has he given me? What has he +given you?” The landowner stepped from behind the tree and faced the +group of startled peasants. “You have heard, your honor? Well it is +true, it is true!” + +The measure which under existing land-conditions would most directly +raise the standard of life is the improvement of the mediæval +agricultural system, and this depends upon the intelligence of the +people at large. Scientific farming needs technical knowledge, yet of +the great sums collected, a very small portion goes to education. The +Nation spends for it but forty-three million roubles, the Semstvos but +twenty million roubles, or together one eighth of the military budget. + +A tedious, inefficient course in Slavonic, with the prayer-books as +text, a smattering of modern Russian, sometimes mathematics as far +as multiplication and division,--this is the state education of the +privileged few of the peasants’ children. Whatever small amount of real +knowledge is gained is quickly submerged in the ocean of ignorance at +home. The percentage of illiteracy is very great. The record gives +Switzerland five, Germany seven, Great Britain ten, France fifteen, +Russia eighty-four. + +It is argued that for the bulk of the population, under existing +material conditions, schools are of small use. The lack, in the +general poverty, of the very primary materials,--paper, pencils, +books; of proper shoes and clothes; the unsuitableness of the houses +of the peasants as places for the children to prepare their lessons +in, with no spot to put their books or to do their tasks and with no +available light--all these things strike at the very root of education. +The population must be raised economically to the point where the +elementals of existence are assured, before the incidental costs of +schools can be met by the peasantry. However, there has been coming +to Russia during the last generation, in a great wave, the kind of +education that made the American West--the education of expansion, of +the founding of towns, the planting of new industries, the building of +new railroads, the opening of better navigation-routes, the enlistment +of foreign capital; all the intelligence and enlightenment that attends +a real industrial, commercial, and material quickening. + +Beyond these social and economic factors a large count is set against +the bureaucratic system for the conduct of administration. The +suppression of personal liberty, of freedom of speech, the abuse of +power by arbitrary officials, remorseless repression, ruthlessly +carried out, racial oppression, frightful cruelty in the prisons and +exile stations;--it is a terrible indictment that has been drawn. The +close of the Japanese War opened a new “Smutnoe Vremya,” or time of +trouble. Industrial wars, riots in Baku, uprisings in the Caucasus, +seizure of cities by Social Democrats,--so went the disturbances +throughout Russia, the white terror above grappling with the red terror +beneath. + +The situation which the forces of order were required to meet was +extraordinary. The balance-wheel of the human mind, and all sense of +proportion among classes of the people, seemed at times to be lost. +Barbaric as the administration condemnations undoubtedly were, the +individuals were not infrequently innocent only by curious standards. +In a broad view one must confess that on both sides were rights and +wrongs. The system, far more than individuals, was at fault. But +while a system so linked to violence and oppression could not longer +be suffered, the way out could not come through yielding to men in +insurrection. + +Salvation lay along the path that the Emperor opened. His rescript of +October 17, 1905, proclaimed a National Duma. + +The pregnant clauses in the summons to a national legislature were +these:-- + + We direct the Government to carry out our inflexible will in the + following manner:-- + + 1. To grant the population the immutable foundation of civic liberty + based on real inviolability of the person and freedom of conscience, + speech, union, and association. + + 2. To call to participation in the Duma those classes of the + population now completely deprived of electoral rights. + + 3. To establish it as an immutable rule that no law can come into + force without the approval of the State Duma. + +The ebullition of sentiment that followed these decrees was +extraordinary. All the bitterness and discontent that had weltered +through the years of distress were metamorphosed into a glowing hope. +Ambition and aspiration became a fervor. The delirium went electrically +through all classes during the few following weeks of uncensored press +and unfettered meetings. The educated were fed with every sort of essay +upon what would be the result of the new order, and exhortation to keep +spread the young wings for national ascension. Among the unlettered +peasants, pictures circulated showing glorified cartoons of the risen +Russia. One of the most widely distributed of these celebrated the +Imperial Svoboda Manifesto. The genius of the Slav stood forth: one +hand rested on a tablet marked “Zakon” (Law), the other unfurled a +banner inscribed in blazing red letters, “Svoboda” (Liberty), below +which followed freedom of speech, of forming associations, of holding +meetings, of religion, the inviolability of the home, and amnesty for +political prisoners. Peasants and workmen were grouped around, and +above them stood an heroic figure representing the Duma which was to +halo all national activity with law. The rising sun, illumining the +Tauride Palace, cast its glow and glamour over the prophecy. + +The ukase had gone forth to give the widest representation at the +polls. The command was followed out in a system by which every class +had its own deputies in the nominating colleges that elected the Duma +members. Among the peasantry each _volost_ had two deputies; every +thousand industrials had one, the nobility, the salaried clerks, +the bourgeois in the cities, the Cossack stanitzas, the boards of +trade, the universities, the Holy Synod, the aboriginal Buriat +tribesmen,--each had special representation. Uninterfered with for the +most part by officialdom, all Russia crowded to the polls, every man +believing that his ideal was now, at last, on the eve of realization. +The peasants who called for land, the workmen who wished for higher +wages, the Intellectuals with their slogan of universal education, the +submerged races with dreams of reborn nationalities, the ambitious with +visions of power, the venal with hopes of plunder, each and all thought +their hopes were to spring at once into the actual and the visual. + +In such a fever-time the men to whom official service meant the slow +toilsome improvement of conditions by self-sacrificing devotion to the +routine of administration, who could offer as pre-nomination pledges +only earnest study and conscientious action on the legal matters +presented, were passed by in the hot aspiring canvass for delegates. +Those who believed all things and promised all things, whose fervency +of expectation fed the universal hope, whose preaching held that, the +way once cleared, Russia could at a bound reach the plane to which +other countries had so long and toilsomely struggled, those of fiery +faith which would consume every obstacle--these were the men whom the +people ratified and whom the nation sent to St. Petersburg for the +first Duma. + +It was a band of hot heads and eager hearts that assembled, echoing +their constituents’ desires, crying for all things and at once. They +were saturated with the history of the French Revolution, they felt +confident that their coming meant the end of the old régime, and belief +in their own power was the pledge of the future. Their first official +act threw down the gauntlet to autocracy. In the reply to the Crown, +passed during their first day’s session, the final paragraphs read:-- + + The most numerous part of the population, the hard-working peasants, + impatiently await the satisfaction of their acute want of land; and + the first Russian State Duma would be recreant in its duty were it + to fail to establish a law to meet this primary want by resorting to + the use of lands belonging to the State, the Crown, the Royal family, + all monastic and state lands, also private landed property, on the + principles of eminent domain. + + The spiritual union of Russia’s different nationalities is possible + only by meeting the needs of each one of them, and by preserving + and developing their national characteristics. The Duma will try to + satisfy these wants. + + Sirs, the Duma expects of you full political amnesty, as the first + pledge of mutual understanding and mutual agreement between the Czar + and his people. + +It was apparent that if these clauses did not contemplate the +confiscation of private property, which was openly advocated by the +peasant deputies, and the substitution of a “spiritual union” of +Russia’s subsidiary peoples for the real hegemony, there was fair +_prima-facie_ evidence for thinking that they did. While a general +amnesty would render less than justice to a large number of citizens, +it would cover as well the bomb-shell anarchists, whose imprisonment +was as necessary to the protection of society as that of any other +dangerous criminals. The tenor of these demands, the speeches of the +deputies, and the avowed desires of their majority, brought matters +to a crisis. Not alone the autocracy, but national unity, and the +jurisdiction of the courts, were called openly and violently into +question. When such a challenge is offered a government, it must answer +or abdicate. + +Unostentatiously, the Imperial Administration poured troops into St. +Petersburg from Kronstadt and the northern garrisons. The governors at +Moscow, Odessa, Warsaw, and the big industrial centres were notified +to concentrate their loyal regiments. The whole country was mapped +out like a checker-board. It was now only a question of when the +authorities would act. + +On the night of July 8, the troops in St. Petersburg were called to +arms. They marched with machine-like precision to appointed stations +throughout the city. With the dawn every strategic point was held by +the soldiery, and a battalion ringed about the deserted Duma hall. In +the silence was read the imperial rescript. The first Duma had ceased +to exist. + +The dissolution of this national parliament had come as a stroke of +lightning. The venerable representative Petrunkevitch told how he was +awakened at five in the morning with the news that the city was under +martial law and that soldiers with fixed bayonets were at the Duma +doors. Hurried consultations were held with groups of colleagues, +and finally the word was passed to meet at Viborg in Finland. At the +little inn there, the pressing crowd of one hundred and sixty-nine +fugitive deputies signed their manifesto. It called for the cessation +of tax-payments, the refusal of conscription, and reclaimed the freedom +of Russia. But the insurrection, the uprising in their support! Not a +regiment came to assist them, not a city rallied to their call, not a +Mir responded. For a few weeks the signers were free. Then the police +took them, one by one. + +Dully unprotesting, the public received the news of the dissolution +of the Duma and the arrest of the deputies. The majority of Russians +did not want disunion, did not want the overthrow of vested rights. +Each wanted some specialty of his own. Yet here was the resultant of +each constituency’s crystallized desires. The people had accepted the +leadership of those who had held out great hopes, impotently. The +Government had crushed the men whose power meant social and economic, +as well as administrative, revolution. In the blow it had perforce +shattered the dreams as well. + +[Illustration: THE TVERSKAIA GATE LOUBIANSKAIA PLACE STREET SCENES IN +MOSCOW] + +Humiliated by the contemptuous condemnation of their chosen +representatives, bitterly disillusioned, the people at large stolidly +acquiesced in the extinction. + +The voting for the second Duma, which followed some months later, +was almost perfunctory. Those who had chronically wished to agitate, +and those put forward by the Administration in an effort to pack the +membership, composed the bulk of the deputies. Moderates, hopeful of +progress with order, stayed at home, disgusted with both sides. The +result was a second violent, wrangling Duma, offending like the first, +and in its turn ignominiously snuffed out. + +The year 1907 saw universal disappointment, cynicism, and skepticism. +In the literature, the lassitude of the nation was shown, and morbid +despair reflected the thwarted hopes, the agonies, the confusion of the +people. The bitterness in the _Lazarus_ of Andreyev, the decadence in +the _Sanin_ of Artzybashev, mirrored the people’s mood, and the shadow +of a dark destiny brooded over all. To fill the cup, the reaction, +coldly triumphant, was able to bring the members of the first national +parliament before the bar for high treason in signing the Viborg +Manifesto. + +In the stifling Hall of Justice in St. Petersburg, like a resurrection +of the first Duma, sat the hundred and sixty-nine signers, grouped +as of old by party affiliations. Each man was called upon to justify +his actions. Many had signed the Viborg document in the belief that +the people would rise in bloody rebellion, and they issued what was, +to their fevered view, advice of moderation. One deputy after another +stood erect to answer for his deeds. If the men had been carried +from liberty into license, at least they had been fired by intense +belief in themselves and in their mission. Impressive were the solemn +declarations of those who expected nothing less than long imprisonment +for speaking out, now, a defiance to the ruling power. It was currently +rumored that should the former President of the Duma, Dolgoroukov, +justify his action, his penalty was to be three years’ imprisonment; +the others would serve one; while liberty was reported to be the bribe +for any who would confess a fault. Yet almost to a man these old +deputies rose to declare that they still stood by all that they had +done. + +“I did not care, and do not care if our action was unconstitutional. We +found that we must rely,” said Nabokov, “on the highest law, the will +of the people.” + +Kakoshtin, of the Cadet Party, and a professor in Moscow University, +declared: “Whatever fate awaits us, it will be nothing compared to +the sufferings of our predecessors who have fallen in the fight for +liberty.” + +Three members of the “Group of Toil” declared that the first Duma would +be an encouragement to the people to overthrow the present system. + +Mourontzev, and Prince Dolgoroukov were there, leading members of the +first Duma. Petrunkevitch ended his speech: “If you open for us the +doors of the prison, we will quietly enter with the knowledge that we +have fulfilled a duty to the Fatherland.” + +Burning words these, but they waked not an echo. The Administration +was in complete control of the situation. Repression was the order +of the day, repression as widespread and efficient as in the days of +Nicholas I; the autocracy, buttressed by an army which, however lacking +in discipline and supposedly honeycombed by disaffection, nevertheless +rallied still to the command and service of the master. + +At this time there was issued the call for a third Duma. As Prime +Minister sat cold Stolypin, whose reputation as a governor-general was +the reverse of liberal. He had risen by virtue of rigid efficiency. His +best friends did not know his beliefs. He had dissolved both the first +and second assemblies, and had done his best to pack the third. “I want +a Duma that will work, not talk,” he declared. + +The murmurers said that the Russian Parliament had become a farce; that +the administrative officers were following to the best of their ability +instructions from St. Petersburg to deliver a roster of safe men; that +those who had agitated unwisely were being removed from the likelihood +of candidature; that the Senate, with its membership of retired +officials, had so construed each provision of the election law that +the unquiet classes were as far as possible disfranchised; that every +influence was being used to make the third a “dummy Duma,” hopelessly +manipulated into the reactionary camp. + +Throughout this time of shattered ideals and discouragement, a very +small band of real believers still held high the torch of faith. Most +prominent among them was Alexander Goutchkov, he who among the Moscow +Constitutional Democrats (the “Cadets” of the earlier times) had in a +critical Polish debate of the party spoken and voted alone for a united +Russia. + +When at length the third Duma had assembled, the so-called Octobrists +or Moderates, who had a small plurality, prepared a reply to the Speech +from the Throne. Very respectful it was, with no demand for general +amnesty or suggestions of confiscation or national devolution. It read +in part:-- + + We wish to devote all our ability, knowledge, and experience to + strengthening the form of government which was given new life by the + Imperial will; to pacify the Fatherland, to assure respect for the + laws, to be a buttress for the greatness and power of indivisible + Russia. + +Unexceptionable, this, to the higher powers, save that in the preamble +in the original draft, the Czar’s historic title of “Autocrat” had not +been given him. A debate followed, and brought about the declarations +which defined the parties of the third Duma. Bishop Mitrophane, +of the Right, or reactionary party, rose. He said in the name of +his group that the Address to the Throne must contain the phrase +“Autocrat of all the Russias.” Lawyer Plevako seconded, threatening +to secede if the proper title were not incorporated. Paul Milyoukov +spoke hotly for the opposing Cadets, asking whether the country was +or was not under a constitution. He declared the new election law to +be contrary to the original ukase and an act of force. Others of the +Left, among them orator Maklakov of the Cadets, declaimed against +the election law by which this Duma was constituted. They were not +politic, these spokesmen, but harsh and dogmatic, yielding none +of the courtier-respect that makes up for so much absence of real +yielding. For the Octobrists, Alexander Goutchkov led the debate. His +speech revealed that they operated, not with the bludgeon, but with +the Damascus blade. They were of flexible obstinacy and opportunism, +stirring up no sleeping dogs, bending to rise again. Goutchkov slipped +adroitly into his speech the disputed word constitution, thus: “We do +not believe that the Czar’s power has been diminished. The Emperor +has become free, for the Constitution has delivered him from court +camarillas and the hierarchy of chinovniks.” Thanks largely to his +tact, the Octo brists won. The Address, without “Autocrat,” was passed +by a vote of two to one. But it passed at the cost of self-separation +by the right wing of the reactionaries, who withdrew. + +The answer of the Administration came sharply from Prime Minister +Stolypin:-- + + The manifesto of imperial power has borne witness at all times to the + people that the autocratic power, created by history and the free will + of the monarch, constitutes the most precious benefit of the political + state of Russia; for it is this power and this free will that are + alone capable, as the tutelary source of existing constitutions, of + saving Russia in times of trouble, of guaranteeing the state from the + dangers that threaten it, and of bringing back the country to the way + of order and historic truth. + +He called upon the Chamber to incorporate the recognition of the +“Autocracy.” + +A hundred members protested. Many of the Cadets walked out. To the +Octobrists, barely a quorum, fell the humiliating duty of recalling +their own address and of inserting, despite the scorn, the fateful +word. So shaken was the group itself by the conflict that of its one +hundred and sixty members but ninety-five united in the caucus that +elected officers and committee members. Alexander Goutchkov was chosen +chairman, Baron Meyendorf, Priest Bjeloussov, and Radsjauko, officers. +Among the heads of committees were Prince Wollanski, and Peasant +Kusovkov. In spite of the stigma of reaction popularly imposed upon +them, these were not unrepresentative men. + +The distracted Duma got slowly under way, and the Prime Minister +brought before them his proposed policy of administration. + +M. Stolypin’s address to the Duma, November 16, 1907, stated that:-- + + 1. The destructive movements of the party of the extreme Left have + resulted in brigandage and anarchy. Order will be the first duty of + the Government. + + 2. Agrarian relief is the first necessity, and this by a system of + small proprietors. + + 3. Local self-government and administrative reforms will be formulated + and presented to the Duma. + +Business got centred on these practical subjects. Discussions as to +whether or not there was an autocracy gave place to famine-relief +measures and railway-rate studies. The absenting delegates of the Left +and Right, who had retreated to their tents in the wrangle over the +Czar’s titles, and had left the forlorn little band of constructive +Octobrists to carry on the work of legislation, now returned. The +proceedings began to take parliamentary form. + +The Budget came on, the Ministers of the Government presenting their +projects for discussion. In the heat of debate, the Minister of +Finance, M. Kakovtsev, exclaimed, “Thank God, we have no parliament +yet!” The fact that an Imperial Minister was presenting his budget to +an elected assembly showed the reality, but the war on names rose +up afresh. The Duma officially declared the Minister’s expression +unfortunate. He threatened to resign unless the house apologized. +The Left again exploded in outcries, called out that the Duma was a +farce, threw in their votes as more fuel for the flame of discord, and +deserted the hall when they were in the minority. Still the little band +of moderates chose the self-abnegating, unspectacular part, and gave +the apology that avoided a crisis. + +But now came up a matter wherein the dispute was not over a name or a +title, but a reality. The Government, upheld by the Czar, the Court, +and much public sympathy, proposed a programme for a new navy. It +called for the immediate allocation of one hundred and eleven million +roubles, and the expenditure in ten years, of over a billion roubles. +In the state of the country this entailed a fearful burden, perhaps the +loss of the gold standard. The outwardly supine members, in rows like +grenadiers, voted against the project. By 194 to 78 it was lost. + +The Minister of Finance shortly afterwards undertook to issue railway +bonds without the Duma’s consent. With a rebuke, for which this time no +apology was asked or given, his estimate was cut down by one rouble, +and voted. The Amur Railway was authorized, though three hundred +million roubles are its prospective toll. The sole remaining Pacific +port of Russia, Vladivostok, is thereby linked with the Irkutsk and +Trans-Baikal districts of Siberia, and so doubly insured against an +eastern enemy. + +After a lengthy session the third Duma adjourned, but not by violence. +It could show as results two hundred bills passed, a budget thoroughly +scrutinized and ratified, and much faithful work in committee. More +important still, the Parliament, by forbearance and patience, had +made itself a part of the machinery of government, and had shown that +a national legislature did not mean expropriation, and a partitioned +Russia. + +At the end, fiery Maklakov of the Cadets, he who early in the session +had cried out that all was a farce, admitted that “the third Duma has +lost none of its rights, it is systematically extending them.” All +honor to those whose self-suppression and patience won. + +The thin edge of the wedge had been driven in under absolutism by +the third Duma, but little could one foresee that a half-dozen quiet +blows would, during the fourth Duma’s session, bring autocracy to the +greatest crisis it has encountered since it decreed a legislature. The +heart of the situation lies in a naval bill submitting to the Duma +matters which the Constitution reserves to the control of the Emperor. +Strangely, too, the Czar is himself the abettor, if not the originator, +of the supplanting. + +In May, 1906, the Czar decided to create the “Naval General Staff.” +One hundred thousand roubles a year were needed, and the money must +be sought of the Duma. The first two assemblies being so violent, the +measure lay in abeyance, to the great injury of the service. Since +the regeneration of the navy was one of the measures made painfully +necessary by the Japanese War, M. Stolypin had a bill drafted, in three +clauses: one ratifying the creation of the “Naval General Staff,” a +second furnishing an annual sum for its operation, a third supplying a +fund for contingencies. No feature of the creation, save the financial +aspect, came at all within the legal jurisdiction of the Duma. Yet the +Premier had the organization itself brought before the Assembly. + +The deputies criticised the institution, modified it, sliced the +estimates. Assuming the judicial functions of a court of last +appeal, they voted the money and passed the bill, which M. Stolypin +then submitted to the upper chamber. In view of the overstepping of +domain, the bill was, after a lucid exposition of the law by the +ex-Controller-General, thrown out. + +The matter was next submitted to the Czar himself, who authorized +its reintroduction in the Duma. A second time the measure was passed +and sent to the Council. M. Durnovo, ex-Minister, ablest of the +Conservatives, and candidate for the Premiership, made a notable +speech. He proved clearly the trespass upon the rights reserved to the +Crown, showed that such precedents would build up an artificial claim +which could not later be combated, while the allowance of participation +in one instance gave a warrant for demanding interference in any and +every proposal. The bill was a blow at the very heart of monarchical +government, and a degree of democracy not allowed even in republican +France. But, defiantly, M. Stolypin held his ground. The anomaly was +presented of Conservatives decrying the Premier for undermining the +dynasty, with the Emperor himself supporting the culprit. Thus has the +former government minority been converted into a majority,--the measure +passed by the small margin of twelve. + +The reactionaries have bitter feud with this Premier. He has, it is +allowed, so enlarged the functions of the deputies by handing over +to them, one after another, the vital prerogatives of the autocracy, +that no later action can ever disestablish the Duma. The Empire is +now governed through a unified cabinet; the important prerogative of +appointing the governors-general has been exercised by the Premier, +rather than by the Czar, since June 16, 1906. Russia has marched far on +its upward way. + +Great, however, is the task ahead. Of all that the Duma can achieve +the country has supreme need. The agrarian question calls aloud for +solution, and the peasants’ future depends on land-relief. The Emperor +has given instructions for the sale of most of the Crown domains and +those of the Imperial Family. The nobles are being encouraged to sell +to the tenants, on notes guaranteed by the Imperial land bank. Firm +and able hands must guide this improvement, promoting the division +of estates left to run wild, but avoiding the pitfalls of threatened +property-rights. + +Individual enterprise must be awakened, which will in the end bring +about more scientific rotation and intensive farming. The old system +leaves fallow thirty-three per cent of the arable land--an area equal +to the whole ploughed acreage of the United States. In western Europe +but seven per cent is fallow, and the value of the harvest per acre +in Russia is less than a third that of Germany. The policy adopted in +the Agrarian Law of November 9, 1906, for the gradual breaking-up of +the communistic Mirs, and the division of the common lands, at the +villagers’ option, into freehold plots, is a wise one. In 1907, the +year following the law’s promulgation, 2617 peasants, in the government +of Ekaterinoslav had become individual proprietors. Under the Land Act +of 1909 one million farms had been taken up for private ownership in +the first six months of the law’s operation. + +Emigration to the vast untilled fields of Siberia should be carried on +with all the efficiency of which the Government is capable. That this +is in progress, the figure of four hundred and ninety-one thousand +emigrants for the first seven months of 1908 attests. Fifty-nine +thousand homeseekers were sent by villages which wished to emigrate +thither _en masse_. But care and providence must follow the movement, +and insure that the settlers are equipped with the means for safe and +permanent establishment. + +The race-question calls also for a righteous solution. The future must +bring the repeal of the old bureaucratic laws of Jewish exclusion, and +end the vicious circle of oppression and terrorism against this much +wronged people. The chaotic finances of the Empire must be regulated +by years of patient work, such as that of the last Duma, through whose +agency there is now, for the first time in twenty-two years, a budget +surplus. + +The Duma members, to whom these all-important tasks fall, must plough +the fields in all their armor. The autocracy is not their greatest +enemy. The history of parliamentary government demonstrates again and +again that in an ordered community authority gradually reverts to the +national representative assembly. Little by little power slips away +from the throne. In England, in 1686, the reign of James II could show +Jeffreys’ Bloody Assizes; yet five years later the Parliament was in +full and permanent control of the government. + +The preservation of the country from the nether chaos is, however, a +mightier problem. Before the ship of state rides safe in the harbor +of true representative government there must come a critical period +when the administrative powers are not firmly clasped by the hand of +either autocracy or duma. This hiatus-time, when iron repression ceases +and sober self-rule begins, is yet to come. Those who must tide the +nation over it are such as those pathetically few Octobrists, unpopular +because of their bending, craven-seeming policy, and because of the +unfree elections that gave them place. Will such a group, when the +crucial hour strikes, be allowed peaceably to pilot the vessel? Or will +red-handed revolution wrench from their grip the tiller, bereft of the +guidance of autocracy? Is it to be evolution or revolution? + +One cannot deny that a free election to-day would throw out the toiling +Octobrists and put in a membership like that of the first Duma. These +constructive, unvisionary men are not loved, nor is their progress +likely to make them so. They exist as the ruling factor only by +virtue of election manipulations and legal interpretations. With this +essentially temporary support taken away, the group would be powerless, +for every indication shows that the people would not support them or +their policies. + +[Illustration: PEDDLER POLICEMAN RUSSIAN TYPES] + +Even Moscow, their former stronghold, fell away in the 1909 elections. +There is throughout the country an undercurrent of fierce demand +for an immediate millennium, with Liberty as the guiding grace and +some particular party as its escort. A song that has become almost +an anthem, “Spurn with us that ancient tyrant,” chanted softly by +the school-boys to the tune of the _Marseillaise_,--this tells the +tale of what is in the air, and in the blood of the people. The most +poorly-suppressed desire is insatiate to hack away with one blow +the abuses that have, through the centuries, rooted themselves deep +in Russian society. The experience of the various revolutionary and +terrorist movements proves that their votaries are capable of daring +any death for their creeds, and of swimming to their imaged goal in +a sea of blood. Let the conservative Octobrist group once succeed +in concentrating power in the Duma, and then let a free election +substitute for them such men as were in the first Duma, and the Russian +Revolution has become a fact. + +It is a commonplace to compare the situation with that of France in +1790. There is, however, one fundamental difference. France possessed +a numerous and economically powerful bourgeoisie, from whom political +rights had been withheld. This class included many strong men moved +to a unity of political desire. They were able in the first place to +work up into a place of dominance. After the interval of supplanting +terrorism, they retook by their own efforts the power which, save for +the periods of despotic militarism, they have since maintained. In +Russia the conservative middle-class is numerically very weak, and +its representatives are unable to seize and hold control themselves. +They possess it now only precariously, by the external propping of +weakening absolutism. Will Russia’s Octobrists, after performing the +function of filching power from the autocracy, meet, at the hands of a +new Robespierre, the fate of the high-idealed Gironde? + +One cannot yet answer. But whatever the harvest, the work of the third +and fourth Dumas, carried out in harmony with the Imperial Ministers, +has shown that the last dread arbitrament of social war need not +come. Revolution is the final recourse, to be undertaken only if a +political and social situation is so desperate that all other means +must fail. Such is not the case in Russia. There are administrative +abuses there. But governmental restrictions press rather less than one +might imagine upon the plain workaday people; and compared to those +of other nations, they are not exceptional save in degree. It is the +educated and so-called upper classes who complain. Taxes elsewhere than +in Russia are burdensome and sure as death. Emigration to Siberia will +give any peasant the legal privilege of escaping taxation, which in +America is the prerogative of her absentee plutocracy alone. The exile +system, dwindling for years past, has now been in effect abolished by +the refusal of the Duma to make an appropriation for its continuance. +The press-censorship is only the open operation of influences tacitly +accepted elsewhere--such as in the United States left the Tweed Ring +so long uncriticised. The much-condemned passport is actually of no +more inconvenience than showing a railway ticket, and it does not come +within “forty _sagenes_” of the custom-house inquisition which faces +every American citizen on his return home. + +It is not an error to say that in many matters of individual liberty +the Slav enjoys more than the American. In the treatment of subject +nations, reliable and neutral witnesses declare that Russia does not +approach the rigor of the Prussian bureaucracy in Alsace. Many of +the Empire’s restrictions are those which obtained throughout Europe +fifty years ago--abuses common to a certain stage of civilization, +and of public opinion. These melt away in newer customs, for time +is curing much. Once the chariot of progress is started, many evils +right themselves in the natural and inevitable upward pressure, and +many slough off unnoted. It is not so many years back that in America +a black man could be deported to malarial lowlands more deadly than +Siberia’s steppes; not so long ago that the English Parliament passed +an act requiring all railway-trains to be preceded by a man carrying +a red flag. Like the seignorial rights of Germany’s feudal states, +anachronisms become outgrown, and fall away. + +In Russia, unfortunately, the onslaught against iniquitous human laws +is overcarried into a blind charge against Nature’s laws, which no +revolution can repeal. The protest against dire artificial abuses is +mixed with a rebellion against the curse of Adam. It is the fearful +fact of life that the destiny of the majority is anxiety, dependence +for daily bread on other men, grinding incessant toil remunerated by +a bare livelihood, a barring-back from the fullest personal capacity +and possibilities through poverty, parentage, environment, and lack of +opportunity. The forces of Nature and primal competition put so many +limitations upon every one’s action that it is hard to say which are +due to the tyranny of men, which are the handicaps born of the nature +of things. The cry for deliverance is rising equally in the workhouses +of Scotland, in France, where thirty-five per cent of the land is +owned by great proprietors, in the slums of New York City, and in the +rice-fields of Japan. A government under the present system can but do +its best to develop men’s capacities, and to give them a fair deal. All +that the best of modern societies has succeeded yet in securing to the +mass of mankind is the chance to get their sons the education which +will enable them to vanquish some of the limitations, security for the +person, and protection from robbery of the cruder sort. + +Capacity and opportunity can come but by slow degrees. When one sees +the numbers and the types in the villages, men of latent capacities +undoubtedly, but swamped by the spirit of _nietchevo_ and with all +their enterprise sapped in the stagnant communism of the Mir, he +realizes the futility of a sudden change and the hopelessness of +germinating by political pellet the leaven of progress in the hundred +and forty millions. + +Rulers may be changed by revolution. But the real quickening of the +people to their great future must come and is coming by the slow, sure +way of evolution. + + + + +VIII + +THE STORY OF THE HORDES + + +Among people so peaceful and subdued as are the latter-day Mongols, +it is hard to realize that the race has had a past which in tradition +at least goes back to the infancy of history. According to legend, +the Chinese, the first reputed offspring of the Mongols, preceded by +three hundred years Egypt’s earliest dynasty. They antedate Abraham’s +assigned epoch by twenty-six generations. They claim to have continued +before Marathon a longer time than has elapsed from the foundation of +Rome to our own era. Yet they yield not even to the Romans preëminence +of arms, for they won and ruled an empire in extent and population the +greatest that has ever existed. Mongols have led the world’s mightiest +armies; their hosts have carried the ox-hide banners over every great +European state but Spain and England, and into every Asian country +except Japan. + +That the march of Mongols down the long way of history has been so +little appreciated is the sword’s obeisance to the pen. Save for the +mendacious memoirs of Tamerlane, and a few Ouighour inscriptions in +Central Asia, chronicles there are virtually none. So story has found a +peg for the clipped tails of Alcibiades’ dogs, but scarcely a word for +the deeds of those who won the world from the Yellow Sea to the Baltic, +from the Persian Gulf to the Arctic. Only where the annals of the race +have been written in the blood of the peoples they conquered are the +events to be traced; only by assembling the alien and hostile evidences +of the encircling nations can one shape the outline of Mongolia’s +mighty past. History takes from the Confucian Book of Records the story +of the earliest emigration to the east; from Herodotus the descent upon +Mesopotamia and the struggle with Persia on the west. It gleans from +the Chinese archives the doings of the Hiung-nu--the Huns; from the +documents of the Byzantine Empire the descent on Europe of the same +Mongolian “Scourge of God.” It culls from Arab historiographs the facts +of the southern conquests of Genghis Khan; from Russian monasteries the +tale of the northward march of his lieutenant Batui. + +The outlines of Mongolia’s career are patched and gathered from her +frontier lands, yet silhouetted against the far recesses of time they +grow steadily clearer and more colossal. + +In the year given by most as 2852 B.C., a tribe, whose earliest +folk-lore and traditions point to an origin in the cradle of the Hordes +near Urga, was pushing seaward down the valley of the Yellow River. +Like the children of Israel, they were in constant conflict with the +“barbarian” aborigines. This tribe became in due time the Chinese +nation. + +Through fifteen hundred years the descendants of the invaders wrought +out a dimly comprehended civilization on the banks of the Hoang-ho. +Behind the imposing national legend, hallowed by the mist of centuries +and focused by images of their five Hero Kings, one may see the fact +of strong, brave rulers striving for their people’s advance. A real +statesman was the original of the demigod Shinnung, “holy husbandman,” +the introducer of agriculture, in whose honor every spring a furrow is +ploughed in the soil of his temple courtyard by the Emperor of China. +A father in the flesh was that “Nest-builder” who watched the birds +construct their homes, and on that model taught his people to make +the wattled and plastered huts one sees to-day. The mystic queller of +disastrous inundations, Ta-yu, founder of the house of Hia, was the +first hydraulic engineer, the dykes of whose successors embank the +treacherous Yellow River. He it was who hung at his door a bell which +any of his subjects might ring, to obtain immediate attention, and who +would leave his rice to answer a call to secure justice. Kie likewise +wears human lineaments, he who made a mountain of meat and a tank of +wine, and then, to please a frail companion, had his courtiers eat and +drink of them on all fours like cows. There is an historic background +to the rising against the tyrant under Shang, who later offered himself +as a human sacrifice for rain in time of famine, and a kindred note in +the story of Chou-siu, sold to misfortunes by a woman whom he loved +and immolating himself in his royal robes when the rebellious vassals +were closing in around him. + +As the years pass, the histories become clearer and more direct, +and the legendary aspect of exploits falls away. The Commentaries +of Confucius deal with events as tangible and exact as Luther’s +Reformation: they give the records of kings, and their daily doings two +thousand years before our era. + +In 1122 B.C., with Wu-wang of the dynasty of Chu, the Chinese nation +emerged as a civilized state. It was organized on a feudal system, +not dissimilar to that built up by Japan’s powerful Daimios. Under +this single dynasty the Celestial Kingdom began a period of 873 years +of development, marked by the writings of the great sages. Lao-tse, +founder of the Taoist religion, with its watchword of “Tao” (reason), +but its quick degeneracy to forms and idol-worship, was the first of +the Chinese philosophers in point of time. He was at the zenith of +his repute around 530 B.C. He had a young disciple struggling through +poverty to an education, “Master Kung,” known to us under the Latinized +nomenclature of Jesuit missionaries as Confucius. + +The youth eagerly conned and meditated upon Lao-tse’s abstract +speculations; but, unsatisfied, he began the studies and compilations +from the ancients which to this day constitute the foundations of +Chinese literature, etiquette, religion, ceremonial, and policy of +government. + +Confucius was at once the world’s greatest college professor and its +most influential editor. His school instructed three thousand pupils +in ethics and etiquette. His writings have influenced more minds than +those of any other human individual, and his supremacy is the triumph +of uninspired work. His moral tone is lofty,--as witness his “Do not +unto another what you would not have done to yourself,”--but his life +brought no great new message. + +“I am a commentator, not an originator,” he said of himself. + +Mang-tse, “Master Mang,” whom we know as Mencius, followed “Master +Kung” by one hundred years, applying, as a practical reformer, to the +society of the day, the maxims of his enlightened philosophy, rebuking +princes and giving to the Chinese world the last of its classics. + +In the glories of the Chu Dynasty, China, the earliest offshoot of the +Mongol race, reached its literary and philosophic climax. + +In Turan, now called Turkestan, and in Mesopotamia, a western division +of the Mongols appears about 640 B.C. It is making an incursion into +the declining Empire of Assyria, over which Nebuchadnezzar is soon to +rule. Nothing of detail remains, only the record of the devastating +inroad over the mountain; but it locates at this date the southwestern +frontier of Mongol dominion. + +Scythia, north of the Black Sea, reveals them next. The sketch +is drawn by the master-pen of the Greek father of history in his +description of the expedition of Darius, 506 B.C. “Having neither +cities nor forts, they carry their dwellings with them wherever they +go,” Herodotus writes, describing the nomad foes of the Great King. He +relates that they are “accustomed, moreover, one and all of them, to +shoot from horseback and to live not by husbandry, but on their cattle.” + +This was the enemy against whom Darius planned a campaign, whose +object was to free from the menace of the Scythians north of the line +of advance his prospective expedition for the conquest of Greece. +From the bridge of boats over the Hellespont, beside which Miltiades +watched, the great Persian marched to the Don River, the nomads always +retreating. Darius finally challenged the Scythian king to stand and +fight, or to accept him as suzerain. To this message Idonthyrsus +replied: “This is my way, Persian. I never fear men or fly from them, +nor do I now fly from thee. I only follow my common mode of life in +peaceful years. We Scythians have neither towns nor cultivated lands, +which might induce us, through fear of being taken or ravaged, to be in +any hurry to fight with you. In return for thy calling thyself my lord, +I say to thee, ‘Go weep!’” + +All the Asian steppes were open to the ever-retreating nomads: Darius +was obliged to halt. Hereupon, the Scythian prince, understanding how +matters stood, dispatched a herald to the Persian camp with presents +for the king. They were “a bird, a mouse, a frog, and five arrows.” + +Darius was at liberty to deduce whatever explanation he chose. He +retreated, the Scythians hounding his army on. He found his bridge over +the Bosphorus safe, and returned to Persia to prepare the Athenian +expedition that ended at Marathon. The Scythians remained: they were +left leading their flocks as of old over the unconquerable steppes. + +By these echoes of clashings with other nations, the first-known +streams of Mongol outflow are dimly followed to the Caucasus Mountains +and the Black Sea on the south and west, bounding Scythia; to the +Hoang-ho Valley, in which were living the metamorphosed Chinese. + +But the rolling hills south of Lake Baikal, the source of the +race-stream, still poured out fresh hordes, which periodically +overflowed in roving nomad bands, harrying the plainsmen. While the +feudal states of China struggled and fought among themselves, now +coalescing under the “Wu-pa,” the five dictators, now uniting under a +Prince Hwan of Shan-tung into a temporary Chinese Shogunate, there came +down upon the fertile lands and populous cities wild horsemen, sparing +none, burning, looting, riding away. “The Hiung-nu descended on us,” +appears again and again in the history. + +At length, about 246 B.C., arose the short but glorious dynasty of +Ts’in, under China’s king, Shi-hwang-ti. He was a man of action. He +compacted a centralized monarchy from the many princedoms, drove back +the nomad Hiung-nu beyond the Yellow River, built the Great Wall, and +by his glorious exploits blazoned into Europe’s vocabulary, the word +China--Ts’in. + +In Sz-ma Ts’ien’s history, a striking incident, revealing the Great +Emperor’s limitations, is graphically told. + +“Li-se, the councillor, said, ‘Of old, the Empire was divided and +troubled. There was nobody who could unite it. Therefore did many +lords reign at a time. For this, the readers of books speak of old +times to cry down these. They encourage the people to forge calumnies. +Your subject proposes that all the official histories be burned. +The books not proscribed shall be those of medicine, of divination, +of agriculture. If any want to study laws, let them take the +office-holders as masters.’” + +The decree was “approved.” The old books of annals, the Confucian +Commentaries, the Odes and the Rituals, to the suppressed execration of +the learned, fed the flames. The literati who protested were warmed, +themselves, over the same fires. + +But despite Shi-hwang-ti’s signal defeat of the five coalescing tribes, +and the eighty-two thousand severed heads; despite the victories in 214 +B.C., the Hiung-nu Empire grew in power, until it extended from Corea +to Tibet. + +The Chinese “Han” Dynasty, even under the peasant-founder, Lin-pang, +who had proven himself a thorough soldier, was constantly harried. The +loss of the old literature continued to be mourned, which argues some +plane of general appreciation. The Minister urged the recall of the +Ts’in philosophers and the reproduction of the burned books. + +“Why have books?” said the Emperor. “I won the Empire on horseback.” + +“Can you keep it on horseback?” the Minister asked. + +The literati were eventually recalled. Their support was secured for +the throne, and the Hiung-nu were kept back by art as well as by arms. + +At the Emperor’s death, his widow, the Dowager Empress Lu, of Borgian +repute, was still harder pressed by the nomads. Meteh, the khan of the +invading hordes outside the Wall, ventured to send to her a proposal of +marriage and tariff-treaty couched in Rabelaisian poetry. “I wish to +change what I have for what I have not.” He followed the verses with +gifts of camels and carts and steppe ponies. In return his messengers +insisted on a tribute of wadded and silk clothes, precious metals and +embroidery, grain and yeast, as well as the intoxicating _samshu_. +These royal presents and tribute were really a trading of goods, a +barter, and citizens of lower rank, in the fairs beside the Wall, were +carrying on an equivalent. + +More and more oppressive became the demands of the Mongols. A band of +beautiful maidens, a very toll of the Minotaur, was exacted yearly. +In one of the ancient Chinese poems a princess laments the fate that +condemns her to a barbarian husband, a desolate land where raw flesh is +to be her food, sour milk her drink, and the felt hut her palace. + +In 200 B.C., Sin, King of Han, marched against the Hiung-nu, only to +retreat after heavy losses, with a third of his soldiers fingerless +from the cold. Again, in 177 B.C., the Hiung-nu broke a treaty and +raided across the Wall. A speech of the Emperor, in 162 B.C., is +quoted in the Chinese chronicles: “These later times for several years +the Hiung-nu have come in a crowd to exercise their ravages on our +frontiers.” + +In 141 B.C., Nu-ti, the fifth of the House of Han, assembled a great +army of one hundred and forty thousand Chinese, and marched against +the Confederacy. This army, like that of Darius, penetrated far up +into the nomad’s territory. Scarcely a quarter of them returned. But +the invasion was not fruitless: the Hiung-nu gave allegiance to China. +Later, in 138 B.C., largely to turn the left flank of the Horde, the +Chinese advanced into Corea. In 119 B.C. another march to the district +north of Tibet turned the nomads’ right flank. At length, in 100 A.D., +a more northerly Tatar clan, the Sien-pi, came down on the broken +remnants of the Hiung-nu. After thirteen hundred years of power this +tribe was destroyed. Of the scattered nomads some remained to unite +with their victorious conquerors; some went south to Turkestan; a third +group trekked north, and went over the great steppe. Subsequent to 100 +A.D., they are found on the east bank of the Volga, where during two +centuries they temporarily disappear from history. + +The great Empire of China now existed unmolested by the Hordes, and +after a few hard fights ruled Asia as far as the borders of Persia. +Its outposts almost met those of the Empire of Rome. Both realms were, +about this date, in peace and prosperity. There is even a record of +trade between them, the Chinese annals telling of an expedition of +King An-tun, or Antoninus, in 166 A.D., to Burmah, from which his +factors reached the Middle Kingdom; and of glass, drugs, metals, and +game obtained overland by way of Parthia from Ta-ts’in, the Great +Empire. Pliny writes of silk, iron, furs, and skins, caravan-brought +from China. So moved the two empires until 376 A.D., when Valens the +Irresolute reigned in Byzantium. To him came messengers bringing word +of great alarm from the Danube. The whole nation of Goths were on the +bank, begging a refuge in Roman territory. + +“Wild enemies, from where we know not, are upon us!” they cried. + +The Goths, who were to subvert the declining empire, were escaping from +before the western division of the old Hiung-nu. Valens had the Goths +ferried over the Danube, and the Huns established themselves in the +vacated places of what is now Austria. + +[Illustration: THE MIRACLE OF ATTILA’S REPULSE (From a painting by +Raphael in Vatican)] + +Amid those hordes arose a leader destined to leave a memory in the +sagas of the Scandinavian bards, in the Niebelungenlied of the Teutons, +and a lurid trail in the annals of the Cæsars. He called himself a +descendant of the great Nimrod, “nurtured in Engaddi, by the grace of +God, King of the Huns, the Goths, the Danes, the Medes; the Dread of +the World,”--Attila. + +A profound politician, he alternately cajoled and threatened the +peoples whose conquest he undertook; a true barbarian, no food +save flesh and milk passed his lips. He and his men worshiped the +mysteriously discovered scimitar of Mars, and from Persia to Gaul, from +Finland to the walls of Constantinople, his armies ranged. Ambassadors +went from his Court to China. The great battle of Chalons, in which, +aided by the Goths, the dwindling forces of Rome’s Western Empire +won their last victory, alone preserved Europe from his yoke. His +descendants, mixing with succeeding conquerors, have remained until +this day in the land that is called, after their dreaded name, Hungary. + +Back to the history of Sz-ma Ts’ien one must return for the next +harvest of Mongolia’s dragon-teeth. The Tung-hu, whose descendants are +now the skin-clad Tunguses that live far to the north, even up to the +Arctic Ocean, came down between 309 and 439 A.D. upon Manchuria. This +occupation separated China from Corea, which, thus isolated, preserved +for centuries the old Han dialect. The Tung-hu conquerors established +a great kingdom extending from the Japan Sea to Turkestan. From 380 to +580 they ruled the northern kingdom of China proper. The leading place +among those who composed their empire was held by the tribe of Juju, or +Geougen, whose descendants are now the Finns. Subject to the Juju was a +Mongol clan descended from the old southern Hiung-nu, who lived hard-by +Mount Altai. They were blacksmiths and armorers for the Tung-hu army, +and were called Turks. Their crescent power gradually supplanted that +of their masters. + +In 480 this people appeared on the border of China. By 560 the Turkish +Empire had become supreme in Central Asia. They pressed upon the nation +of Avars on the Altai borderland of the steppe, until twenty thousand +of these, refusing to submit, moved westward. Justinian received +the envoys of the fugitives in 558. They offered to serve him, and +threatened, if unaccepted, to attack his Eastern Empire. Anxious only +to keep them away from his own domains, and indifferent as to which +should survive, he sent them to attack his German enemies. The Avars, +conquering a place in Europe, established a powerful nation between the +Danube and the Elbe, biding their time till with the other barbarians +they could descend to the spoil of Rome. + +After their rebellious vassals came the Turkish envoys, with richer +presents to the Eastern Emperor Justin II, and more alarming menaces. +The military alliance of the Turks was accepted and that of the Avars +renounced. Kemarchus carried the ratification of Rome’s treaty to Mount +Altai in Central Asia. For many years there was friendship between +Mongol and Byzantine, mutual alliance and trade. + +In 618 the great T’ang Dynasty arose in China, whose fame is suggested +in the fact that the only Cantonese word for a Chinese nationality +is “Man of T’ang.” The energetic Li-shi-min subdued the Manchurian +Tunguses, and in 630 a great battle broke the Turkish power. China once +again was supreme from Corea to the borderland of Persia. During the +T’ang Dynasty, Kashmir in India, and Anam were captured by the Chinese. + +There followed now a period of centuries when the breeding-place of the +Mongol’s wolf-born hordes ran barren. In unchronicled obscurity the +skin-clad herdsmen lived out their generation. To the feeble Ouighour +confederacy fell the sceptre of the steppes. The old territory of the +Hiung-nu khans and the Turkish Supreme King was split into little +chief-governed principalities. Manchus and Tung-hus, rallying again, +alternately ruled and harried China. Avars and Huns occupied their +distant conquests. But in the vast stretch between, the tribes were +in a bewitched sleep. The people and the qualities that made the old +armies were there; the breed of shaggy ponies which they rode was +there; iron reddened the hill-slopes, waiting to be hammered into +spears in the Altai forges; China and Europe were as ripe for the +spoiling. All that the Mongols needed was a leader. + +In a quaint chronicle of the Middle Ages we read of how he came. When +the French took Antioch from the Turks, one Can Can ruled over the +northern region out of which the Turks had originally come. To the +old kindred in this hour of need they sent for aid. Can Can was of +the Cathayans, a people dwelling among the mountains. In one of the +valley stretches lived the Tayman tribe, who were Nestorians. After +Can Can’s death a shepherd, who had risen to power among the Taymans, +made himself ruler as King John. King John had a brother named Vut. +Beyond his pastures some ten or fifteen days’ journey was Mongol; the +latter described as a poor and beggarly nation, without governor or law +save their soothsayings so detestable to the minds of the Nestorians. +Adjoining the Mongols were other poor people called Tatars. When King +John died without an heir, Vut became greatly enriched. This aroused +naturally the cupidity of his needy neighbors. Among the Mongols was +a blacksmith named Cyngis. Ingratiating himself with the Tatars, he +pointed out that the lack of a governor left both peoples subject to +the oppression of the surrounding tribes. He got himself raised to the +double chieftainship, secretly collected an army, and broke suddenly +upon Vut. Cyngis sent the Tatars ahead now to open his way, and the +people everywhere cried in dismay, “Lo, the Tatars come! the Tatars +come!” + +While the Turks sought aid of their kinsmen for the defense, the French +King sent to King John’s reputedly Christian kingdom for help to his +crusade. But Cyngis “Temugin,” the Man, had come. As Genghis Khan he +was to open up the vastest empire the world has ever seen. + +In 1200 the young Temugin, in a great battle near Urga, defeated Wang +Khan, whom modern research, vindicating the basis of truth in the old +Friar William de Rubruquis tales, has shown to have been a Tatar prince +of the Nestorian Christian faith, King of the Kitai or Cathayans, in +all probability the ruler known to the princes of Europe, through his +letters to the Roman Pope, as the Christian potentate of the Orient, +Prester John. + +Wang Khan’s skull, encased in silver, graced the conqueror’s tent as a +first trophy. In 1206, summoning all the Mongol chiefs, Temugin took +the title of Genghis Khan, “The Greatest King.” + +His armies were turned next to the reduction of his own people, the +nomad tribes of the Central Asian plains. As one after another was +defeated, its warriors were incorporated into his growing army. When +all these myriad shepherds and soldiers were gathered in, he directed +his march towards China. + +The Great Wall was as paper to his host. Ninety cities were taken by +storm, never one surrendering. For while to the kindred races which he +had conquered, and which furnished further recruits for his armies, +Genghis was most merciful and humane, to a foreign foe he was indeed +the Wrath of God. Once he was bought off from the invasion; but again +he returned to the prey. A way into Peking was opened by means of a +mine dug under the walls to the centre of the city; through it a picked +body of Mongols entered, marched to the gates, and opened them. The +savage host rushed in to sack and slay. For sixty days Peking burned, +and five desolated provinces of North China were added to the Mongol +Empire. + +Mohammed, Sultan of Carizme, who reigned from India to the Persian +Gulf, was the next objective for the Mongols. In the field, by valor +and numbers, the Khan’s troops defeated all the Sultan’s armies. The +walled towns were besieged and taken, largely through the skill of +Chinese engineers. The whole great Persian district was harried after +the custom of the Mongols through four years; for hundreds of miles +the country was so ruined that to this day the old populousness and +prosperity have never been recovered. + +The army of one of the Khan’s generals marched north into Turkestan, +and subduing many Turkish peoples, entered beyond the Caucasus the +territory of the Polovtisni, themselves Mongols of an earlier invasion. +The conquest of Russia had begun. A Muscovite chronicle of those days +illustrates the utter consternation and surprise of the inhabitants at +this formidable and sudden incursion: “In those times there came upon +us, for our sins, unknown nations. No one could tell their origin, +whence they came, or what religion they professed. God alone knew +who they were.” The people generally believed that the time had come +foretold in Revelation when Satan should be let loose with the hosts of +“Gog and Magog to gather them together in battle; the number of whom is +as the sand of the sea.” Indeed, in the old map of Tatary, by Hondius, +the territories of these two fabled worthies are carefully outlined in +what is now Manchuria. + +Despite the Tatarean theory of the Mongols’ army, the Russian chivalry +gathered to the aid of the Polovtisni, and collected an army by the +lower Dnieper. Defiantly they killed the ambassadors whom the Mongols +sent. The wrathful nomads advanced into the Crimea near the Sea of +Azov. The two hosts met in the fatal battle of Kalka. It was the Crécy +of Russian chivalry. Hardly a tenth of the army escaped. Ten thousand +of the men of Kiev fell; of the princes, six, of the boyars, seventy, +died on the field of battle. Matislaf the Bold alone made front, and he +was treacherously betrayed and slain. + +The way into southern Russia was now open; yet, after their victory in +1224, the Mongols disappeared as suddenly as they had come. The hordes +had been diverted to complete the conquest of China. For thirteen +years they were swallowed up by the steppe. The son of Genghis, +“Oktai,” had succeeded the dead conqueror, and had appointed Batui +General of the West. + +Again there was heralded an invasion, this time by one of the outlying +tribes of Khirgiz on the eastern border. The blow was aimed at the very +heart of Russia. The old Slav ballads, or “_bilinî_,” tell how Oleg the +Handsome fell at Riszan. The Tatars entered and burned Moscow in 1237. +Onward into the north rolled their conquest, town after town falling. +At the Cross of Ignatius, fifty miles from Novgorod, the torrent +turned, and, sparing for the time being the ancient republic, swept to +the south. + +Against the cradle of the Russian race, the white-walled many-towered +city of Kiev, Mangu, the grandson of Genghis, now marched. By +multitudes the Tatars carried the walls. Fighting to the end, the last +defenders went down in a ring around the tomb of the great Yaroslav. + +Russia was prostrate at the feet of the nomads. Her princes became +vassals, some to journey as far as the Amur to pay their homage to +the Great Khan. Without the Tatar Emperor’s letters-patent, no prince +could assume his inheritance. When the envoy presented the documents, +the nobles had to prostrate themselves and accept them kneeling. Each +Russian city gave its tribute, even the still uninvaded Novgorod. +Every peasant in Muscovy paid his poll-tax. Indeed, the supremacy of +the czars of Moscow, when the Tatar yoke was at length thrown off, +was largely due to the wealth which the Romanov family had managed to +acquire and to hold during their term as tax-farmers of the Great Khan. +Russian troops, supplied as part of the tribute, engaged in the Tatar +wars, getting in one instance of record their share of the booty--after +the sack of Daghestan. They were drafted on account of their great +size and valor into a body-guard for the Mongol Emperor in Peking, +corresponding to the Swiss Guard of Louis XVI. + +While the conquest of Russia was being consolidated into a permanent +Mongol dominion destined to endure for nearly two hundred and fifty +years, Batui led his army on into Poland and Bohemia. He took Buda-Pest +and devastated the country far and wide. The most alarming accounts +preceded him, which are still to be read in the monkish annals of the +time. “Anno Domini, 1240, the detestable people of Satan, to wit, an +infinite number of Tatars, broke forth like grasshoppers covering +the face of the earth, spoiling the eastern confines with fire and +sword, ruining cities, cutting up woods, rooting up vineyards, killing +the people both of city and country. They are rather monsters than +men; clothed with ox-hides, armed with iron plates, in stature thick +and short, well-set, strong in body, in war invincible, in labor +indefatigable, drinking the blood of their beasts for dainties.” + +The Holy Roman Emperor, Frederick II, who undertook to gather the +powers of Europe to meet the danger, wrote to Henry III of England:-- + +“A barbarous nation hath lately come called Tatars. We know not of what +place or originall. A public destruction hath therefore followed the +common desolation of Kingdomes and spoil of the fertile land which that +wicked people hath passed through, not sparing sex, age or dignity, +and hoping to extinguish the rest of mankind. The general destruction +of the world and specially of Christendom calls for speedy help and +succour. + +“The men are of short stature but square and well-set, rough and +courageous, have broad faces, frowning lookes, horrible cries agreeing +to their hearts. They are incomparable archers. + +“Heartily we adjure your majestie in behalfe of the common necessitie, +that with instant care and prudent deliberation, you diligently prepare +speedy aide of strong knights and other armed Men-at-arms.” + +Throughout Europe the dread was universal. In 1248 Pope Innocent IV +sent to the Tatars an embassy with money, begging them to cease their +ravages. Failing, he summoned Christendom. Louis IX of France prepared +a crusade. The fishermen of England could not sell their herrings +because their usual customers, the Swedes, had remained at home to +defend Scandinavia. Fortunately, the tide of western Mongol invasion +had spent itself. After wasting the Danube district, the death of +the Great Khan recalled Batui in 1245. + +[Illustration: ON THE ROAD TO THE MING TOMBS] + +Syrian archives reveal the Mongols’ next appearance. In 1243 Hatthon, +King of Armenia, sought Mangu Khan at Cambaluc (Peking), praying him to +fight the Saracens and recover Jerusalem. Mangu sent his general, who +speedily took Antioch, spoiled Aleppo, and sacked the city of Bagdad. + +When the latter was stormed, Haloon, the Mongol general, ordered that +the Caliph be brought alive into his presence. There had been found in +the city a quite surprising booty in treasure and riches. Haloon asked +why the Caliph had not used his wealth to levy mercenaries and defend +his country. The Caliph replied that he had deemed his own people +sufficient to withstand the Mongols. Then the Khan announced that the +precious things which had been so cherished would be alone left to the +miserable man, who was shut into a chamber with his pearls and gold +for sustenance and perished in torments. There was no Caliph of Bagdad +after him. + +Thus, almost simultaneously, there were conquered by the Mongols, +northern China, Syria, Russia, Hungary, and Poland. The stream of human +blood that it cost is immeasurable. + +Of the first conqueror, Genghis Khan, an Arab poem says:-- + + On every course he spurred his steed + He raised the blood-dyed dust. + +The lives of four and a half million people are reckoned as his toll on +humanity. He had proposed to raze every city and destroy every farm of +the five northern Chinese provinces, to make pasture for his nomads, +and was only dissuaded by a minister, who ventured death in opposing +him. It was he who ordered the million souls of Herat to slaughter. +Batui, subduer of Russia, called “Sein Khan” (the Good King), is +said after the Moscow massacre to have received 270,000 right ears. +Following his fight with the Teutonic knights, near the Baltic, nine +sacks of right ears were laid at his feet. “Vanquished, they ask no +favor, and vanquishing, they show no compassion.” “The Mongols came, +destroyed, burnt, slaughtered, plundered, and departed,” summarizes +an Arab; and the unimaginative chronicles of the Chinese tell without +comment of city after city taken, and their inhabitants put to the +sword. + +Utter ineradicable barbarity would, on the face of things, seem to have +been the inmost nature of this people. Yet only a few years later, when +Mangu Khan was ruling at Caracorum, the Court had become civilized. +Forty-one years after Genghis Khan’s death, when the great Venetian +traveler Marco Polo arrived at Kublai’s Court, the palaces and the +organized statecraft at Peking had become a model of efficiency. The +Mongols, not as a race, but in the sphere of their leaders, had become +a real nation, not unworthy of its success. + +It is interesting to reconstruct the Tatar capital and note its +development in half a century. The Minorite monk, sent to beg aid from +the supposedly Christian Mangu Khan for the delivery of Jerusalem, +wrote a detailed description of the city, Caracorum. It had a circuit +of three miles and in dearth of stone was rampiered strongly with +earth. It had two main streets: one of the Saracens, where the fairs +were held and where many merchants assembled, attracted by the traffic +with the Court, and with the continuous procession of visitors and +messengers; the second chief street was occupied by Chinese, who were +artificers. The town had four gates. In the eastern section grain was +sold, in the western sheep and goats, in the southern oxen and wagons, +in the northern horses. Beyond were large palaces, the residences of +the secretaries. The Khan himself had a great court beside the city +rampart, enclosed not by an earth but a brick wall. Inside was a +large palace, and a number of long buildings, in which were kept his +treasures and stores of supplies. + +Twice a year the Khan held high festival, with drinking-bouts +whereat Master William, a captive taken in Hungary, served as chief +butler, officiating at the tree which he had devised to pour forth +intoxication. The ambassador of the Caliph of Bagdad came in state, +carried upon a litter between two mules. Before the Khan, rich and poor +in multitudes moved in procession, dancing, singing, clapping their +hands. The guests brought gifts to the monarch. Those of the ambassador +of the Turkish Soldan were especially rich, but for quaintness the +Soldan of India scored. He sent eight leopards, and ten hare-hounds +taught to sit upon the horses’ buttocks as do cheetahs. Manifestly it +was no raw encampment of barbarians, this Caracorum of Mangu Khan. + +If the Mongol’s Court could, in 1253, show this degree of “pomp and +pageantry,” how much was it exceeded by that of Kublai the Magnificent, +visited and told of by Marco Polo. + +Kublai had established a second seat at Shang-tu, and had built not +merely a court, but a city. His palace was of marble, its rooms +aglitter with gold. Art had come, and the ceilings were painted +with figures of men and beasts and birds. Trees of all varieties, +and flowers, were executed with such exquisite skill as filled the +traveler, familiar with the best products of Italy, with amaze +and delight. Sixteen miles of park, enclosed by a wall, embosomed +the palace. Rivers, brooks, and luxuriant meadows diversified the +landscape, and white stags, fallow deer, gazelles, roebuck, rare +squirrels, and every variety of attractive creature, lent gayety and +charm. + +The Khan rode weekly with his falcons. Sometimes a leopard sat a-croup +behind him, and was loosened at the game that struck his fancy. + +The tale runs on of the Khan’s silk-corded pavilion in the grove, gilt +all over, and having lacquered, dragon-pedimented columns; of cave-born +rivers running deep below the ground; of treasured gems and gold. + +No wonder that Coleridge’s imagination was warmed to his dream poem. + + In Xanadu did Kublai Khan + A stately pleasure dome decree, + Where Alph the sacred river ran, + Through caverns measureless to man, + Down to a sunless sea. + +London’s tortuous streets were to wait two hundred years for their +first pavement, when Cambaluc’s were so straight and wide that one +could see right along them from end to end, and from one gate to the +other. In the Khan’s parks, the roads, being all paved and raised two +cubits above the surface, never became muddy, nor did the rain lodge on +them, but flowed off into the meadows. + +In addition to civilization’s wealth and magnificence, the Mongols +had developed a well-organized government. The Khan’s twelve barons +exercised his delegated authority, as does a modern cabinet in behalf +of the national executive. Cambaluc was policed by a thousand guards. +The city wards were laid out, for taxation and government, in squares +like a chess-board, and all these plots were assigned to different +heads of families. The military roads were constantly kept up by a +large force. The Emperor had ordered that all the highways should be +planted with great trees a few yards apart. Even the roads through the +unpeopled regions were thus planted, and it was the greatest possible +solace to travelers. + +The post, too, was as thoroughly organized as Napoleon’s. The +messengers of the Emperor, bound in whatsoever direction from Cambaluc, +found, every twenty-five miles of the way, a relay-station. Where the +route lay through uninhabited deserts, the relay-posts were made houses +of sojourn. At all stations express messengers were in readiness, as +links in the system for speeding dispatches to provincial governors or +generals: they were equipped with the fastest horses, which stood fresh +and saddled, ready for an instant mount. The men wore girdles hung with +bells; when within hearing of a station came the sound of jingling and +the clatter of hoofs, the next man similarly provided would leap to +his horse, take the delivered letter, and be off at full speed. The +post covered a full two hundred miles by day, and an equal distance +by night. Marco Polo states that, in the season, fruit gathered one +morning at the capital, in the evening of the next day reached the +Great Khan in Shang-tu--a distance of ten days’ journey. + +Organized charity was instituted by the Mongol Khan for Cambaluc. +A number of the poorest families became his pensioners, receiving +regularly wheat and corn sufficient for the year. The nomad levied +as tribute a tenth of all wool, silk, hemp, and cloth stuffs, and +had therefrom clothing made for the indigent of his capital. He had a +banking system, paper money, a wonderful military discipline, advanced +astronomy; and he opened the Grand Canal to the commerce of the ages. +When one recalls the epoch at which all this existed, and realizes that +at that time wolves and robbers disputed mastery of the streets of +Paris; that the Saracens were lords of half of Spain; that Wycliffe had +not yet published his Bible, and that French was the language of the +English law courts,--the advance attained is hardly short of marvelous. + +In nothing whatsoever is the Mongol civilization more remarkable and +contrasting than in its religious toleration--the last acquisition of a +civilized state. + +While the Christian King of France was engaged in earning the title of +“Saint Louis” by extirpating a people of whose creed he disapproved, +his envoy, the friar, came to a country which had attained complete +religious liberty and toleration. There were “twelve kinds of +idolatries of divers nations.” Two churches of Mahomet preached the law +of the Koran, and one church of the Christians proclaimed the gospel of +the Christ. + +He found his own creed treated with especial courtesy, the Great Khan +subscribing two thousand marks to rebuild a chapel on the behest of +an Armenian monk. He relates that the privilege was accorded to the +Church of trying any of their number accused of theft; that the +Khan’s secretary and his favorite wife were Christians; that a chapel +was allowed them within the court enclosure; and that the Nestorians +inhabited fifteen cities of Cathay and had a bishopric there. + +Marco Polo found the same indulgent tolerance of his religion. In +Calaci, the principal city of Tangus, the inhabitants were “idolaters,” +but there were three churches of Nestorian Christians. In the province +of Tenduch, formerly the seat of Presbyter John, King George was a +Christian and a priest, and most of the people were Christians. They +paid tribute to the Great Khan. + +Indeed, if the Mongolian attitude toward armed nations combating in +Christ’s name has been implacable hostility, toward those of the faith +who worshiped peacefully in their midst it has been uniformly tolerant, +even favoring. The Nestorians, who brought their creed from Khorassan +in the fourth century, had by 500 A.D. bishoprics in Merv, Herat, and +Samarcand. The Perait Turkomans as a tribe accepted Christianity, and +were unpunished. That the Faith was liberally treated in 781, under +the Chinese, is self-acknowledged, on the ancient Nestorian stone of +Si-an-fu. Headed by a cross, there is graven in Syrian and Chinese the +Imperial decree of 638, ordering a church to be built: it gives an +abstract of Christian doctrine, and an account of the “introduction +and propagation of the noble law of Ta-t’sin in the Middle Kingdom.” +In Si-an-fu at this time there were four thousand foreign families, +cut off from return by a northern inroad of fanatical Tibetans into +Turkestan. + +Another monument of 830, found near the site of the old Ouighour +capital on the Orkhon, and carved in Chinese, Turkish, and Ouighour +characters, mentions the Western religion. A strange sect of Hebrews +of unknown origin found as well an unpersecuted home at K’ai-feng-fu, +where the Mosaic rites could be performed. To this day a remnant +survives. + +The same tolerance for alien faiths marked Tatar rule in Russia. The +Khan of Sarai authorized a Greek church and a bishopric in his capital, +exempting the monks from his poll-tax. Khan Usbek in 1313 confirmed the +privileges of the Church, and punished with death sacrilege against it. +Kublai Khan took part regularly in the Easter services, and allowed the +Roman missionaries to establish a school in Shang-tu. + +Indeed, reviewing the whole sweep of Asia’s religious history, one can +hardly escape the deduction that if the greatest race of the greatest +continent is idolatrous, it is not the fault of the Mongolians. + +The Nestorian missionaries had an unsurpassed opportunity in the +fourth century when their faith was new and burning, and the world +was at peace. But stigmatized as heretics after a doctrinal dispute +which had been settled by the logic of a street fight, in which +Cyril’s Egyptian bravos defeated the Syrian henchmen of the Patriarch +of Constantinople, their mother church was driven out of the Roman +Empire into Persia, where, cut off from the support of the main trunk +of fellow Christians, their organization withered away as a lopped +branch. The chief congregations in Iran and Turan were overwhelmed by +the Mohammedans, until at length there were left only the dwindling +congregations in Mongolia, and such communities as those on the Malabar +coast in India. + +To-day one hears of interesting discoveries. Now it is of the old +buried Christian strata among Turkomans of Samarcand, of doctrines +preserved through the fury of Islam fanaticism by families that have +secretly transmitted Christian worship through the centuries. Next it +is of Nestorian monks in Asia Minor, startled at being able to read the +characters of Ouighour inscriptions, relics of the writings which their +predecessors carried to Mongolia. But for all practical purposes the +Nestorian labors, once so promising, are as if they had never been. + +Another supreme opportunity for Christianity came when Kublai Khan, in +1268, sent west by the Polo brothers for Roman missionaries to teach +his people. + +“The Great Khan, ... calling to him the two brethren, desired them +for his love to go to the Pope of the Romans, to pray him to send an +hundred wise men and learned in the Christian religion unto him, who +might show his wise men that the faith of the Christians was to be +preferred before all other sects, and was the only way of salvation. + +“After this the Prince caused letters to the Pope to be written and +gave them to the two brothers. Now the contents of the letters were +as follows: He begged that the Pope would send as many as an hundred +persons of our Christian faith; intelligent men acquainted with the +seven arts, well qualified to prove by force of argument to idolaters +and other kind of folk, that the law of Christ was best; and if they +would prove this, he and all under him would be Christians.” + +In the advance of Christianity the steps ahead have been made not +so much by the conversion of the people as by the winning of their +rulers,--Constantine, giving to Rome’s legions the standard of the +Cross; Clovis; Ethelbert; Vladimir, who drove the whole population of +Kiev naked into consecrated water of the Dnieper; Charlemagne, moving +against the Saxons with his corps of priests. Where these spoke for +a hundred thousand souls, Kublai spoke for a hundred million. He was +able to deliver; it was the Pope who did not rise to the occasion. +In all Christendom Gregory could find but two priests to go with the +Khan’s messengers, and these turned back in the midst of the journey, +alarmed by the prospect of its hardships. The Khan, who wished some +religion, sent to Tibet, and received the Buddhist missionaries whom +he requested. So China, Mongolia, Tibet, and eastern Turkestan are +Buddhist to this day. + +Yet once again the Christian opportunity came. The way which had +been opened into China by Matteo Ricci had been followed by Jesuit +missionaries, until at the beginning of the seventeenth century there +were two churches in Peking, some three hundred thousand converts in +the Empire, and the favor of the Emperor Hang was with the Western +faith. + +When Christianity was spreading with cumulative rapidity, the +Dominicans and Franciscans came in and denounced the Jesuit workers for +tolerating the ancestor-cult of the Chinese, and for permitting God +to be called “Shang-ti.” In vain the Emperor Hang, appealed to by the +Jesuits, declared that by “Shang-ti” the Chinese meant “Ruler of the +Universe,” and that the Confucian rites were family ceremonies and not +idolatry. The rival friars persuaded the Pope to proclaim “Tien-chu” +the proper Chinese word for God, and to condemn all ancestral +ceremonies. Thereupon, the Chinese Emperor, rebuffed and disgusted +with all the wrangling fraternities, condemned the Christian religion +and killed the friars, save those whom he wanted for the Imperial +Observatory. + +One cannot but recall an early commentary made by Mangu Khan upon the +jarring Christian sects whose rival dogmas have prevented, and do to +this day, the common progress. + +“We Mongolians believe that there is but one God, through whom we live +and die, and we have an upright heart towards Him. That as God hath +given unto the hand fingers, so He hath given many ways to men. God +hath given the Scriptures to you, and ye Christians keep them not. But +He hath given us soothsayers, and we do that which they bid us, and we +live in peace.” + +For some years after Kublai Khan’s death, the Mongol Empire held its +preëminence by inertia rather than by strength. Each of the khans had +his kingdom. Presently the nations that had been subdued began to rise +against the numerically small garrisons of Mongolia. In China, the +young Bonze, Chu-Yuan-Chang, finally organized a band of Boxers, and +succeeded in driving out the last degenerate Mongol khan from Peking. +He united the old eighteen provinces and established the Ming Dynasty, +the tombs and palaces of whose kings are still the most celebrated +structures of China. + +In Russia, Dimitri of the Don gathered one hundred and fifty thousand +men and defeated the Mongols at Kulikovo. + +If the old supreme monarch of the north had lost his sway, in the south +the Mongol race was being lifted to its second period of empire under +Tamerlane, the Iron Khan. His was the history of the first Mongol +conqueror repeated. The ant that Timur watched during his exile, +which fell back and returned sixty-nine times before it carried its +grain of wheat to the top of the wall, was the symbol of his early +career. Constant obscure tribal conflicts, unsuccessful at first, led +finally to a gathering of the nomads into a terrible invading army. +The Golden Horde was hurled against Dimitri, defeated him, and marched +upon Moscow. It was sacked with the horrors of Genghis’ days, and all +Russia was ravaged to the Don and the Sea of Azov. One of Tamerlane’s +armies traversed the Pamir into India, and, by the capture of Delhi, +opened the way for the Mogul Dynasty of his sons, which was to endure +until the Indian Mutiny. His Indian army, returning, swept a swath of +desolation through Persia, Mesopotamia, Syria, Georgia, and Armenia. +Every city that was taken was sacked, and the event commemorated by a +pyramid of skulls embedded in mortar. One hundred and twenty pyramids +marked Tamerlane’s path through India alone. The Delhi pyramid was made +from the skulls of one hundred thousand slain “with the sword of holy +war.” + +Bajazet, Sultan of the Ottoman Turks,--themselves sprung from a nomad +Mongol tribe,--was threatened by Tamerlane on the west. In a great +battle Bajazet was defeated. + +Alhacen, Tamerlane’s Arabian secretary, relates that the conquered king +was examined by his master. + +“Wherefore dost thou use so great cruelty towards men? Dost thou not +pardon sex or age?” + +Bajazet might logically have responded with a “tu quoque,” but his +position did not warrant it. + +“I am appointed by God to punish tyrants,” continued Tamerlane. He had +an iron cage made; and locked within it like a linnet, the unfortunate +sultan was carried from place to place, because, in the Tatar’s naïvely +quoted words, “It is necessary that he be made an exemplary punishment +to all the cruel of the world, of the just wrath of God against them.” + +The invasion of China was under way, in 1405, when Tamerlane died, +leaving a renewed Mongol Empire, which stretched from the Hoang-ho to +the Don, and from Siberia to India. + +Here again the descendants of the savage conquerors rose to the +requirements of their sovereignty and obeyed the peaceful and humane +maxims that each of the two great and warlike and pitiless tyrants had +bequeathed to his successors. They ruled with a fair degree of wisdom +and a large measure of success. A descendant of Tamerlane was to build +at Agra, in 1630, the most splendid monument the world has ever seen, +the Taj-Mahal. + +In the century after Tamerlane’s death the Hordes split up once +more, Ivan the Great of Moscow, having consolidated many neighboring +princedoms, with the nominal consent of his Tatar overlord, at length +seized the opportunity to refuse the payment of tribute. The Mongol +Khan had no longer the power to compel it at the sword’s point, and +without a battle the Tatar supremacy was covertly relinquished. In +1480 the long servitude of Russia to the alien invader was ended. From +this time the Mongol nomads appear hardly at all in history. They +withdrew gradually to their Asian steppes, leaving in Turkey, in the +Crimea, and in India, the kingdoms of their offshoot tribes. Russia and +China still felt the raids of the horsemen, for the khans of the Golden +Horde were yet not to be despised. + +Fernan Hendez Pinto, the shipwrecked Portuguese of the generation +after Vasco da Gama, was in China in 1542 when Tatars came down and +besieged it. He saw “an emperor called Caran whose seigniorie confineth +within the mountains of Gen Halidan, a nation which the naturals call +Moscoby, of whom we saw some in this citie [of Tuymican], ruddie, of +big stature, with shoes and furred clothes, having some Latin words, +but seeming rather, for aught we observed, idolaters than Christians. + +“To the ambassador of that Prince Caran, better entertainment was +given than to all the rest. He brought with him one hundred and twenty +men of his guard, with arrows and gilded quivers, all clothed in +chamois-skins, murrie and green. After whom followed twelve men of high +giantlike stature, leading great greyhounds, in chains and collars of +silver.” + +When Yermak cleared the way to Sibir, and opened the path that was to +lead to the Pacific, the Mongols were pushed south. Russians still had +Tatars all along their frontier, but these were pressed steadily back +as the Slavic race advanced eastward. The Tatar domains were restricted +soon to the steppe country and Mongolia. + +After Yermak’s time the Mongol power sank. It fell further when the +Manchus established their dynasty in Peking in 1644. So low had its +estate become that even the old fighting instinct was gone,--all +the passionate desire for independence that has been the Mongols’ +birthright since the dawn of history. How had it vanished? Christianity +had not come. Buddhism had come, and it was the tolling of the knell +for freedom. + +The sum of national energy and the heat of the new dispensation were +diverted into theocracy. The meaning of life, its value and its duty, +these basic ideas which determine the ultimate activities of every +race, were revolutionized by the new faith. To the Pagan the world +was good despite its evils; struggle against environment measured the +worth of manhood and freedom was the supreme blessing. To the Buddhist, +life was an evil in which the soul had become enmeshed. The path to +release lay not in overcoming the environment, but in retreating from +it within the citadel of the soul. Resignation, self-surrender, the +yielding of this world to secure the other world beyond,--such were the +forces which transformed the Mongols from the foremost warriors into +the priest-ridden, subject, unaspiring people of to-day. The supreme +problem in the autonomy of China, and in the subjugation of India, +is involved in the point of view of Buddhism and its outgrowth in +character. + +In 1650 a son of the leader, Tu-she-tu Khan, was made chief of the +Mongol _kutukhtus_, or cardinals, with the title of Cheptsun Damba. +This monsignor began the Urga hierarchy of Gigins, or god-priests, +which has continued until the present time, when the eighth Gigin +reigns at the Holy City. As the powerful Tu-she-tu clan lost its +vitality, Chinese influence made itself felt. This was directed in +general toward the encouragement of the priesthood, whose celibacy and +other-worldliness dovetailed with Chinese control. + +The Mongol khans, becoming through the years more and more unwarlike, +had grown tired of internecine feuds. They were at last won over by +China to a nominal allegiance and the payment of a formal tribute, +reciprocating which, imperial gifts of tenfold value served as artful +bribes. Modestly, diplomatically, came King Stork, leaving to the local +Daimios, seemingly undisturbed, their feudal sway. With the coming of +the first Manchu governor began the present era of Mongolia. + +[Illustration: THE GLORY IS DEPARTED] + +As time went on, the Chinese, more astute and cunning, took little +by little from the careless hands of the nomad princes the reins of +real political power. The native chiefs were wheedled into giving up +many ancient rights over the vassals, as well as their general taxing +powers. The celibate priests, who were draining the manhood of their +idle but powerful hierarchy, were subsidized and directed by the +interlopers. They preached to their confiding countrymen obedience and +submission. In the Mongol Gigin of Urga, the Chinese raised up a native +power superior to all the old feudal lords, whose armies melted away +beneath the ecclesiastical dominion. When the Gigin became in turn +too great a menace, they caused it to be decreed that each succeeding +incarnated Buddha must come from Tibet, and that his main powers must +be delegated to a “Council of Lamas.” + +In the train of the Manchus came the Chinese traders, polite, supple, +calling themselves friends of the Mongols, offering their alluring +wares on undefined credit terms which tangled the unsuspicious natives +in inextricable usury. Peking-brought gewgaws were paid for a hundred +times over in the food and clothing which the natives kept giving to +the compounding voracity of the debt. + +Chinese coolies pressed up the river-valleys, begging land here, +intruding themselves there; more followed, and ever more, until the +best of the pastures were filched away, and the nomads, in order to +exist, were forced to trek to the more distant and barren slopes. +Deforesting transformed into deserts whole provinces. The once famed +virtue of the Tatar women is forgotten, and every Chinaman has his +“friend” whom he leaves behind when he returns to his native land. The +big prosperous Mongol families, that early travelers noted, are no +more. Two or three children are the most that one sees to a _yurta_, +and the population, owing to lama celibacy and the decreased means of +subsistence, is declining from year to year. + +This is the people and this the land which sent horde after horde +through centuries to conquer the world; where in half a dozen +generations a little band of blacksmiths like the Turks could breed a +nation that would dominate Asia. With narrowing means of subsistence, +and aliens draining their small surplus capital, the Mongol race lies +prostrate beneath the Yellow Empire. The grim Malthusian tenet that the +world cannot give food for all its children falls short here of the +grim actuality. The silent invasion of the Chinese has been as ruthless +as was the march of Genghis Khan. The economic garroting of a race is +what the world has seen in Mongolia. + +No longer are there men to lead or men to fight. Obediently and +submissively the once fierce, ranging warriors have yielded to the +artfully-imposed yoke. The army of unmatched cavalry has become a +memory, and a nation of fighters has become a race of timid herders, +with little heart or brain. The sons of the old soldiers have learned +to shave their heads and croon Tibetan prayers, and the fires of a +people’s ambition are quenched in the creed that makes abstention +from effort a cardinal virtue, and annihilation life’s supreme +objective. What there was of virtue and of valor lies buried in distant +graves. Ringed with the bones of slaughtered captives, rusted swords +at their sides, they sleep well, those old forgotten warriors. In +poverty and hardship, priest-ridden and debt-ridden, decimated and +degenerated, their descendants eke out their sterile days. But there +lingers yet among them a half-forgotten memory of the heroic past. +The wandering chanter still sings in the twilight the old “Song of +Tamerlane”--Tamerlane who will come again, they say, and lead the +hordes once more to victory. + + When the divine Timur dwelt in our tents, + The Mongol Nation was redoubtable and warlike. + Its least movements made the earth bend; + Its mens’ look froze with fear + The ten thousand people upon whom the sun shines. + O Divine Timur, will thy great soul soon return? + Return, return; we await thee, O Timur! + + + + +IX + +CHINA + + +Destiny has bequeathed to his once subject-race the heritage of Genghis +Khan, but whether its Manchu possessor can or cannot hold even his +own birthright is to-day an enigma. The last few years have seen the +gathering of the eagles, disputing the mastery of eastern Asia, where +China stands against the world. Slav, Saxon, and Frank press in, upon +the supine empire. Has this yellow race the manhood and the capacity to +rally against them and retrieve its national integrity? + +The cession of Formosa after the war of 1895 began the partition. +China’s defenselessness was then visualized. The revelation of her +easy defeat set every predatory nation on the alert. Watchful for an +occasion, which two murdered missionaries supplied, Germany, by clumsy +but successful unscrupulousness, seized Kiao-chow and two hundred miles +of hinterland. Three weeks after the bludgeoned ratification of Admiral +Diedrich’s grab, Russia procured the signature of the intimidated +Emperor to the lease of Port Arthur. France demanded and secured the +cession of Kwang-chow-wan, on the mainland opposite the island of +Hainan. England acquired the lease of Wei-hai-wei, and continental +territory opposite Hong-kong. Italy came to claim as its portion Sanmen +Bay; but this at least China found courage to refuse. + +Then followed a period when, backed each by its government, invading +cohorts of promoters scooped in franchises and special privileges of +every description. The latter part of 1899 saw foreigners pushing in +from Manchuria on the north, where Russia with her so-termed railway +guards held the strategic route, and from Yun-nan on the south, where +France was constructing a similar road of conquest. It showed four +European nations so established along the coast that only by courtesy +of a foreign government could a Chinese vessel cast anchor in some of +the principal ports of China. It saw a Belgian-French railway driving +from Peking into the heart of the Empire at Hankow; an American line +started north from Canton to the same objective; an English line +controlling the territory between the main northern trade-centres, +Niu-chwang and Tien-tsin; a French society in possession of a great +south-country copper concession; Russians with the exclusive right to +all the gold in two _eimucks_ of Mongolia; and an English syndicate +deeded the best of the Chinese coal-fields. + +The partition was thus far accomplished. The continental nations +seemed to be ready for all that they could get. The strength of Great +Britain’s traditional position, based upon maintaining the integrity +of China, was shaken by her lease of Wei-hai-wei, although this lease +was to run only so long as Russia should hold Port Arthur. England +was on the point of recognizing openly “spheres of influence,” as is +shown by the inferential claim to special British rights in the Yangtse +region set forth in the official transactions of Sir Claude McDonald, +and brought out under parliamentary interpellation, when a Secretary +of State for Foreign Affairs in the Balfour Ministry spoke of “British +rights” to the provinces adjoining the Yangtse River and Ho-nan and +Che-kiang. + +There was apparently good warrant for the general belief that in +expectation of an impending partition a provisional understanding had +been reached by the different chancelleries, regarding the share of +each nation, England being allotted the mighty domain from the Yellow +Sea to Burma and Afghanistan, including all Tibet, as well as six +hundred and fifty thousand square miles in China proper. In general, +from Shan-tung inland the valley of the Hoang-ho was destined for +Germany; the district north of her Anamese possessions for France; all +Mongolia and Manchuria for Russia; Corea and the province of Fokien on +the mainland opposite Formosa, for Japan. Peking and the surrounding +district, whose disposition was embarrassed by jealousy if not by +scruples, was alone left for the Chinese. + +At this critical juncture, when the day of dismemberment seemed indeed +to have arrived, the United States came forward in behalf of the +“open-door” doctrine, as a means of preserving the nationality and the +integrity of China. In a circular letter to the Powers, our Secretary +of State, Mr. John Hay, asked that adhesion be given in writing to +three main propositions, appertaining to each country “within its +respective sphere, of whatever influence.” These points were that no +treaty port rights or other vested interests should be interfered with; +that the Chinese tariff should be maintained; that no discriminating +railway charges or harbor-dues should be imposed. + +America’s might, thrown into the wavering balance, turned the scale. +Great Britain gave ready adhesion. Though the responses of some of +the other Powers were evasive, none was at this time willing to bear +the onus of an adverse stand: each nation nominally accepted, and the +movement toward partition was checked. + +To most people Chinese matters seemed settled. The preservation of a +nation had been combined with the guaranteeing of a great free market; +the orgy of grabbing had ceased. Russia, assenting to the open door, +had promised to evacuate Manchuria. The special concessions, though +secured by stand-and-deliver methods, it was felt would bring economic +improvements and would furnish to the Chinese a demonstration of the +beneficent results of Western civilization. + +It was recognized that there would be frictions: misunderstandings +are inevitable when old ways are faced with new. The extra-territorial +rights of foreigners and their converts, absolutely necessary to +protect their liberties if not their lives, could not but create +occasional unharmonious situations, in which the consuls would have to +intervene. The severity of the judicial punishment meted out at times +to rioting cities for harm done to the protégés of the Powers was to be +deplored, each nation grieving at the atrocities the others had seen +fit to perpetrate. + +But periodic local and temporary disturbances had been going on from +time immemorial. Did not the Chinese realize, we reasoned, that their +old corrupt government had been given another undeserved chance to try +and march with the rest of the race; that this world is not the place +for graft-ridden relics from the fifth century B.C.? The least we felt +was that, thanks to the bearer of the “Flowery Banner,” the Chinese had +been given a last opportunity. A self-denying Occident had guaranteed +the nation’s existence and had presumably earned its everlasting +gratitude. “Let China get up and do something--let it redeem itself.” + +[Illustration: THE BRIDGE AND TABLETS IN PEI-HAI] + +A very small circle of Chinese shared this Western view, and realized +at their true value the mights if not the rights. There existed among +the literati at Peking and in the coast cities the rudiments of a +foreign liberal party. Recognizing that Western methods must come, they +had been in favor of accepting foreign improvements even at the cost +of railway concessions and the violated dwellings of wind and water +spirits. When this party won over the young Emperor, there began the +period of foreign concessions. Reforms, too, covering every subject, +from queue-cutting to postage-stamps, were inaugurated. + +The summer of 1898 saw the important edict which ordered the abolition +of the Wen-chang essays and the penmanship posts, with the Emperor’s +personal comment that the examinations should test “a knowledge of +ancient and modern history, and information in regard to the present +state of affairs, with special reference to the governments and +institutions of the countries of the five great continents, and their +arts and sciences.” A Bureau of Mines was established, a patent-office, +schools, a scheme of army reform. + +The climaxing decree was the one abolishing sinecures. For the +Emperor’s unreconstructed entourage this last was too much. Foreign +aggression had embittered to the point of unreason mandarin and coolie +alike. The _coup d’état_ planned by the Dowager Empress, and executed +by the reactionaries, virtually dethroned the Emperor, exiled his +advisers, and ended the foreign-encouragement reform. + +Indeed it was not within human nature for it to endure. From the point +of view of the party of the second part the aspect of the whole foreign +relationship, even after the Hay Note, looked very ugly indeed. The +fact of guaranteed integrity was obscured by the _laissez-faire_ of +the already consummated grabs. The idea that gripped them was the +humiliation of foreign occupation and foreign aggression. It was as +if the Russians and the English had just seized rival reservations +on Long Island and the Jersey coast, commanding New York City; as if +the English had wrenched away Charleston; the Germans, Philadelphia; +the French, New Orleans; and Cossacks were garrisoned in strategic +points throughout New England. It was as if the New York, New Haven and +Hartford Railway were manned and guarded by Slavs, the New York Central +by Belgians, the Pennsylvania by Prussians; as if the Pittsburgh mines +were handed over _en bloc_ to an English corporation, and the Russians +had exclusive mining rights to the gold of Alaska’s Yukon region. It +was as if America’s protective-tariff and contract-labor laws were +repealed at foreign dictation, and a flood of foreign machine-made +goods and undesired immigrants were poured into the unwilling country. +It was as if yellow-robed Buddhist lamas were everywhere haranguing the +Yankee farmers, telling them of the fraudulent nature of the Christian +creed, and urging upon them an approved canine method for disposing of +deceased ancestors, to replace their superstitious funeral services. +It was as if astrologers, calling themselves engineers, were to dig +up New York cemeteries in order to erect prayer-wheels; as if the +apostates whom these yellow priests had drawn into their joss-houses +were enabled to dodge part of the taxes, which consequently fell with +added oppression on the rest of the people; and as if, when they +did something which others would in the normal course of events get +punished for, a lama came before the magistrate and got them off. As +if the President and the Senate were given a weekly wigging by the +diplomatic corps, and were periodically forced to deed away sections of +the forest reserve and tracts of particularly desirable territory. + +With such an aspect as this, which represents what in an undefined, +bewildered way the Chinese saw and felt, it is no wonder that they +considered the Confucian dictum obsolete: “Do not unto others, what +you would not that they should do unto you”; and joined the patriotic +harmonious Fists,--the Boxers. + +Chinese sentiment was ungauged in the West because we had never +put ourselves in their places. Unforeseen save by a few unheeded +Cassandras, and unprepared for, there broke out the planless, +leaderless Boxer Rebellion, grim fruitage of the national resentment. +A few hastily gathered legation guards were alone available for +defense. Spreading from the Shan-tung Province, where the severity of +the Germans had goaded the usually peaceable people to madness, the +I-Ho-Chuan besieged the legations at Peking. It was the infuriated and +ill-directed rush of a patriotism real if futile,--a turning against +the spoilers. + +The movement was crushed in a torrent of blood, and with a devastation +that for long will leave its mark upon the northern provinces. The +closing year of the nineteenth century saw the Taku forts stormed, +Tien-tsin, the Liverpool of the North, taken over and administered by +a foreign board, Manchuria and Mongolia swarming with Cossacks, the +Dowager Empress in flight, and her capital looted by foreign armies. + +The coming of alien soldiery to the Forbidden Palace left its impress +in the fiercer though more carefully smothered hatred of mandarins and +people. It was still a blind resentment. They were injured, stung in +all their pride and self-sufficiency, but dumb, bewildered, not knowing +what to do, which way to turn. The liberals with their solution were +gone; with them had passed the hopes of a progressive policy. + +The people, perplexed, looked to their reëstablished reactionary rulers +for guidance. But these officials, mostly of advanced age, and steeped +in the ideas and ideals of the Confucian classics, were anxious mainly +to close the ears and eyes of the masses to the unpleasant realities; +to feather their own nests and finish off their lives in tranquility. + +The Chinese Minister to the United States, Wu Ting Fang, gives a +graphic picture of these Celestial Bourbons:-- + +“It must be remembered that most of the high officials in Peking are +born and bred Chinese of the old school. All the princes and nearly all +the ministers of state have spent most of their days within the four +walls of the capital. They have never visited even other parts of the +empire, not to say foreign lands; nor can they speak any other language +besides their own. They have absolutely no knowledge or experience of +foreign ways except those who are ministers of the Tsung-li Yamen, and +the experience of these men has been confined exclusively to their +official intercourse with the foreign representatives at Peking.” + +Buttressing their hereditary _intransigeance_, these mandarins had, +after the Hay Circular, possessed a measure of confidence that their +yielding of open-door trade privileges to the greed of the foreigners +had enlisted a combined support which would preserve China’s remaining +national powers. + +But so powerless to fulfill their purposes had these paper pledges +become, so far was the open-door doctrine from settling the situation, +that in China’s own territory, where by solemn promises of both parties +no special privileges could accrue, the year 1904 saw two Powers in the +throes of the greatest war of modern times. + +If the realization of the combatants’ purpose has signified much to +the nations of the West,--perhaps rather to the United States, for +the others nursed no illusions,--to China it has meant far more. It +has brought for the first time a real and general appreciation of the +necessity for modernized, efficient self-defense. + +Fifteen years of aggression have been needed to drive home this +knowledge. While the defeats of 1895 came as a blow to a few +keen-minded Chinese, to most they were a matter of entire indifference. +China was not conquered, they reasoned: only two provinces took +part while the viceroys of the rest looked idly on. “That Shan-tung +man’s war” was the general attitude; “Li Hung Chang’s boats beaten.” +When it was over, merely Formosa, the little-valued island of “tame +barbarians,” had been lost. The traditional policy of playing off the +jealous powers one against the other had apparently succeeded; it had +cleared the Japanese from Corea and Port Arthur. China as a nation was +hardly touched, and multitudes of people never knew there had been a +war. + +The seizures of 1897-1899, coming close upon each other, exasperated, +but taught no lesson. The mass of Chinese, and even those in high +official circles, believed that a little effort would drive the foreign +devils into the sea. The march of the Allies to Peking stunned them. It +was their first facing of the fact. + +[Illustration: HSUEN-WU GATE, PEKING] + +The Russo-Japanese War, and the partition of the province that had +cradled their Emperor’s dynasty, dissipated their fool’s paradise. It +was seen then, clearly, by all, that China’s only hope of maintaining +her integrity lay in her defensive power. With the object, not of +securing the blessings of civilization (which the overwhelming majority +of Chinamen desire no more than we do the Holy Inquisition), but of +beating away the spoilsmen, the Peking rulers turned at length to the +survey of their actual military condition. As this concerns intimately +the Chinese internal situation, a summary of it may be pertinent. + +The Hwai-lien regulars, to the number of twenty-five thousand, are +well-drilled, and well-armed with Chinese-made Mausers. They are +stationed in the northern provinces, including the Taku and Peht’ang +forts, the Tien-tsin station, and the neighborhood of Peking. These +make up the only national force of modern troops at the disposal of +the Chinese Government, but the private armies of various viceroys +bring up the total somewhat as follows: The camps of foreign-drilled +troops, formerly Yuan Shi Kai’s, probably the best in China, number +roundly twenty thousand. From the Shen-ki Ying, or artillery force, +from the camps of the Manchu Banners, which the Government is making an +effort to whip into some kind of shape, from the Imperial body-guard, +and other scattered and less important troops, ten thousand effectives +might be culled. In the south the Viceroy of Nanking has, all told, +some twenty thousand more men holding the Wusung forts, who may be +classed as efficient and well-armed; some of these are German- and +Japanese- drilled. This total of seventy-five thousand represents +China’s numerical military strength in effective modern troops. + +The old hereditary organization of twenty-four Banners, adds some two +hundred thousand Manchus, Mongols, and Chinese,--of the privileged +soldier caste, which through two hundred and fifty years has drawn +an annual subsidy of eight million taels from the Peking treasury. +Billeted as the nominal wardens of the provincial cities and garrisoned +around Peking, these Tatars have become as a rule so degenerated by +immemorial idleness as to be useless save for picturesque parades. The +one positive element is that they are men under pay, subject to order, +and available for initial experiments. + +The Green Banner, or militia, under the command of a general for +each province, is theoretically composed of a large number of native +Chinese. The army is made up mainly of officers. The higher officials +of the Green Banner acquire the pay, commissary, and weapon-allotments +of their nominal armies, and pad the rolls with the names of coolies +who come out for the annual review in return for the small portion of +their nominal wage which must be spent to keep face. + +To expect these men to get out and fight is obviously more than they +bargained for. The Green Banner can deliver about the same relative +number of actual soldiers per unit of population that a Mississippi +backwoods county polls for the Republican party. The most that can be +said for the Green Banner is that it has a list of men’s names from +which a certain number of real recruits might be obtained. + +The military organization of even the best regular troops is feeble. +Constant word reaches the press of soldiers revolting for lack of +pay. In one such instance nine hundred men near the Manchuria border +mutinied and were put down with difficulty, tying up the caravans for +some time. Aside from questions of discipline, and considering number +only, it is doubtful if, in the whole empire of four hundred million +people, one hundred thousand decently armed and drilled troops could be +gathered, in an extremity, for defensive purposes. + +Drilled and armed men in whatever numbers are, however, but one +element of a country’s defensive power. Organization, transportation, +commissary, and supply are factors of hardly less importance. The +troops that get there are the ones which count, and even a Chinese army +marches on its belly. Russia’s defective transport, to mention but one +case, undoubtedly decided both the Crimean and the Japanese wars. The +question of territorial defense is one of several dimensions, first of +which is how soon could a given force, with its necessary commissary +and ammunition-supply, be disposed along the various lines of possible +attack. + +Making the round of the Chinese Empire, it is apparent that Tibet and +Mongolia, for all the resistance that could be made, might be taken by +England and Russia respectively whenever they were minded to cross the +border. The Chinese could throw out barring columns no further westward +than Sze-chuan, no further northward than the Great Wall. + +On the frontier of Corea, the Yalu River formerly defined the first +line of defense. But this frontier has been moved westward by the +Japanese, so that it would be a political impossibility to put men +there even were it practically possible. The present line would of +necessity be between Shan-hai-kwan and Yung-ping. Perhaps withdrawals +from the northern provinces, the viceroys permitting, might admit +massing here fifty thousand troops. But this, as well as any other +possible line, is entirely unfortified, giving hardly more advantages +to the repelling than to the attacking forces. There would be no second +line of defense, nothing to fall back upon but the old Tatar Wall of +Peking. Beyond this fifty thousand any quota brought from the south +would consume a very considerable time, probably a month, even allowing +that their semi-independent viceroys did not discreetly hold off +altogether. + +Further east, at Shan-tung, Germany’s railway pierces to the heart +of the Confucian province; while from the Chinese military centre in +Chi-li there is no corresponding railroad, Chinese-manned, giving them +access, were it necessary to repel aggression. The Anamese railways +afford the French means of bringing up troops, where China could +assemble an army only after weeks of marching. The Burmese frontier of +Britain’s dominion is similarly vantaged. + +The German _Land-Wehr_, while the first armies go to the front, may +be called out and mobilized, until the whole manhood of the nation +is in arms. Such a body is nonexistent in the Celestial Empire. Like +her own lichee nut, once the frail shell of her resistance is broken, +the meat is ready for the eating. Considered solely from the military +standpoint, aside from reform as such, China is as supine as a huge +helpless jelly-fish, with disconnected nerve-ganglia, and not even the +rudiments of a backbone. + +For the first requirements of national defense, what is necessary? For +the north there should be a thoroughly drilled and equipped regular +army of at least one hundred and fifty thousand men, with capacity for +rapid concentration in the neighborhood of Peking. For the south a +standing army of at least fifty thousand men. An intermediate army of +fifty thousand more should be available near Hankow, capable of being +thrown either way. The Peking-Hankow railway line must have strategic +branches to Canton, Shanghai, Yun-nan, and Shan-tung. These must be +controlled not by foreigners but by Chinese. There must exist a reserve +of, say, five hundred thousand men, at least partially drilled, from +which to draw reinforcements. There must be arsenals able to make all +the weapons and ammunition for these forces, since foreign nations +will continue to command the sea. The sums needed to realize such a +programme must be available, and China must possess the organization +and fiscal system for the conduct of a war. From this summary it may +be seen that adequate defense requires a measure of increase in her +efficiency that is revolutionary. The demand which such measures would +make upon any nation is stupendous. How much more would it exact of +China, where for its accomplishment every single factor must overthrow +the ideas, the principles, the very morals evolved through centuries in +the most conservative race of the globe! + +At the outset, for the personnel of such a regular army, two +hundred and fifty thousand adults must be transformed from stolid, +superstitious field-tillers and coolies, never of combative spirit, +into courageous, disciplined fighting men. Can this be done? Some, +eminently qualified to judge, answer that it can; but Chinese history +has not for several thousand years furnished many glorious annals. +Where a stark fight is recorded, as at Albazin, or against the Mongol +khans in the sixteenth century, the warriors have been Manchus rather +than Chinese. Whenever an aggressive nation, be it Hiung-nu or Khitan, +Mongol or Manchu, British or Japanese, has gone against the genuine +Chinaman, the latter has invariably submitted. It is only when his +subjugators, absorbed into the swarming mass of conquered, have +degenerated, that the native has been able to rise and drive out +his enfeebled oppressor. The Chinese have conquered by time and their +birth-rate. + +[Illustration: PEKING Where the Allies’ main assault was made] + +On the other hand, the Chinaman has qualities which, translated into +military virtues, should theoretically give him a great initial +advantage over any other race. He is comparatively without nerves; +he can hold a gun without a tremor for what to a Westerner is an +inconceivably long time; he has good eyes and a strong sight; he can be +victualed on a few handfuls of rice; he is entirely indifferent as to +where or how he lodges; he is sober and reliable; he is a big-bodied +man, stronger even, perhaps, than the Japanese; he is docile, obedient, +and susceptible to discipline. Indeed, in all that concerns his +physical qualities and certain moral superiorities, one could not +ask for better raw material. When well led he has at times done very +creditably. A generation of such leadership as Yuan Shi Kai’s would do +not a little toward bringing out what there is latent in this people. + +If in the army organization the gap between what is and what should +be is so great, how much wider is it in the government organization +needed to finance reform. The revenues of China are some $100,000,000. +About $36,000,000 are allotted to military purposes. When from this +has been deducted the eighteen million-odd which go to the generals +of the Red and Green Banners, there is left, theoretically, about +$18,000,000 for the real army. Actually there is efficiently applied +probably not over $10,000,000. The regular army of Japan--two hundred +and twenty-five thousand--takes $40,000,000 effectively expended. China +must begin from the very bottom, whereas Japan is simply carrying +along. A judicious total expenditure of at least $50,000,000 is needed +for China’s army. With the additional railway and arsenal programme, +and other concomitant work, the demands over and above present outlays +would reach around $110,000,000. Add this to the present budget, less +the well-spent ten millions, and there is to be reckoned a total budget +of at least $200,000,000. + +Could China raise such a defense-fund on top of her present +hundred-million-dollar budget? Could she cut down on present expenses +to help it out? The latter might be considered. Theoretically the +wasted army money of the present budget might be saved and applied. +Practically the vested interests in the graft are so important as to +make it of infinite difficulty. The mere beginning of sinecure-cutting +cost the Emperor the actuality of his throne and nearly his head. + +The list shows other items of expenditure which cannot be materially +economized. The large and growing sum which goes to repay interest, +foreign loans, and indemnities, cannot be touched, nor can the +$16,000,000 sent to the provinces for their local expenditures. +The $8,000,000 for the Peking salaries and palace expenses is +a fixture. The modest and well-administered $3,000,000 of the +customs expenditures, covering about all the public works that China +undertakes,--the lighthouse and coast-patrol allowances, the mails, the +interpreters’ school,--this cannot be pared. The needed money must come +if at all by increase of the receipts. One is driven irresistibly back +to the Government’s taxing capacity. + +The physical possibility of such taxation undoubtedly exists. The per +capita revenue which the Government receives from its four hundred +million subjects is but twenty-five cents. The American per capita +revenue is eight dollars, the Japanese five dollars, the Russian twelve +dollars, the Indian--perhaps in conditions the closest parallel to the +Chinese--one dollar and a quarter. An extra twenty-five cents would +raise the Chinese Government well above all financial difficulties, and +still leave the rate far below that of the other great nations of the +world. + +Looking at the actual mechanism for revenue collection, one is met by +difficulties which have rooted themselves deeply into the system. One +cannot squeeze any larger proportion of the needed sum than the present +$25,000,000 from the Imperial Maritime Customs. Tariff-rates are +fixed by treaty, and the collections, under English direction, are as +efficient as they can become. The likin duties on freight during inland +transit are such a plague to commerce that, far from being increased, +they should be swept away altogether as one of the earliest of reform +measures. This $14,000,000 is produced at so heavy a price of fettered +and thwarted commerce that added tariff would but aggravate the +strangulation without materially increasing income. The opium revenue +of $5,000,000 is likewise an item which, for the best interests of +China, should disappear from a reformed budget, and the “foreign dirt” +from the Celestial domain. In any event opium cannot be made much more +productive. + +After these eliminations there are left items which bring in +$56,000,000. The sources consist principally of the land-tax, the +grain-tribute, native customs, and the salt gabelle. The returns from +these factors would require to be nearly trebled, if they were relied +upon to make up the bulk of the needed total. + +The method of collection is a further check to greater income. The +existing machinery of fiscal administration operates, roughly, +as follows: When the funds begin to run short for the usual +expense-accounts, the various executive boards apply to the Board +of Revenue. The latter makes a glorified guess at the sum which, +considering harvests, rebellions, and other elements, each province +might be able to pay. It is thereupon put to the provincial officials, +consisting usually of a viceroy, a governor, a treasurer, and a +judge, to supply something approximating this sum. The provincial +syndicate, through the medium of various intermediate officials, +such as the _tao-tai_ and the _fu_-prefect, whose powers are nebulous +and overlapping, call upon the eighty-odd county magistrates for an +estimated share. The magistrates, _shien-kwan_, called colloquially +“father and mother officials,” whose varied functions include rendering +justice, keeping the jail, leading the religious processions, and +collecting the taxes, send out each his hundred henchmen to get the +actual money or grain. Of this hierarchy of officials not one has +a salary which would keep his establishment going for a month. Of +necessity the laborer must draw his own hire first from the harvest. + +Under such a satrap system, by the grace of human nature, each official +takes what the traffic will bear, letting pass to the man higher up +enough to conciliate his claim and to keep face with Peking. If the +penalties which follow deficient generosity to a superior define +the maximum contribution, the minimum is fixed by the famine or the +rebellion point. With this method in vogue, it is not unreasonable to +assume that the amounts gathered in the first instance are about as +great as can be wrung from the people. An increase of the Government’s +receipts would have to come through shaking down the office-holders for +a larger share of their pickings. Such a revenue as a real reform would +demand must despoil of vested rights in his livelihood every mandarin, +viceroy, _tao-tai_, _fu_-prefect, magistrate, and petty publican in +the empire. It might be practicable to commute the likin, or inland +octroi dues, for fixed sums by agreement with the _hongs_, or merchant +associations. This was done in Li Hung Chang’s province, Kwang-tung, +where $2,750,000 was paid in order to get rid of likin dues which +netted only $670,000. Enough might be raised by this means to pay the +officials at just rates. Then honest collections might reasonably be +demanded, and a beginning be made of fiscal reform. But it is apparent +from these outlines how long a way China has to travel before her +capacity for self-defense is a reality. + +The facts are now being comprehended by all classes. From the coast +cities, a growing number of young Chinese have been sent to study +abroad, mainly in Japan--as many as fifteen thousand in 1907. +Returning, these so-called “students” have become the leaders in +the boycotts against the United States and Japan. They have engaged +actively in propaganda of a patriotic nature, and, more constructively, +have translated into their mother tongue hundreds of books on history, +economics, and law, including the whole Japanese code, Herbert Spencer, +Huxley, Voltaire, Montesquieu, the “Contrat Social” of Rousseau, the +works of Henry George and Karl Marx, and many others of the same +general nature. + +These movements show a widespread public opinion friendly to Chinese +regeneration. Various administrative measures have been inaugurated +which are yet more promising. + +The old method of dividing the Peking Bureau into provincial +departments, and letting each of these care for every sort of business +from its special province, has been altered. Instead of a bureau having +general charge over the salt-tax, the customs, and the appointments +of each province, there have been organized ten departments, dealing +each with its specialty throughout the entire realm. The five +recently-created bureaus--Agriculture, Works and Commerce, Police +and Constabulary, Post-Office and Education--tell by their names the +centralizing purpose of the new régime. Formerly five hundred clerks +attended a department, with office-hours from eleven A.M. to two +P.M. including lunch, smoking-time, and due intervals for examining +peddlers’ wares. Now a much reduced force is employed, with actual +working-hours generally from nine A.M. to four P.M. The foot-binding of +children has been prohibited; pressure has been put upon the officials +who smoke opium to abandon it, under penalty of dismissal from the +service; classical essays as a civil-service examination subject are +being given up, and the education of the Chinese youths abroad is being +encouraged. A large number of Japanese officers have been engaged to +train the khaki-clad and well-armed Chinese regulars, who have shown +excellent aptitude. The Government has bought back practically all +foreign railroad concessions, and all the valuable mining concessions +except the Kai-ping coal-fields. + +Even representative government is well under way. The Dowager Empress’s +edict of August 27, 1908, by which a nine-year period was set for +the devolution of legislative powers to provincial assemblies and +a national senate has been justified by remarkable success. The +local legislatures, elected under carefully restricted suffrage +qualifications, have grappled earnestly with the economic problems +of the districts. The senate, of thirty-two members, selected by the +Prince Regent from an elected body, has not yet had time to show +results, but the calibre of the men in it is encouraging. + +China is making a real effort to get abreast of the times. But never +was a nation brought more directly before the judgment-bar on the plain +test of character. Upon the capacity of the race for private sacrifice +and public honesty rests primarily her salvation. Whether China can +or cannot rise to the task depends upon her own manhood, and no one +can be prophet of the issue; for all estimate of Chinese character is +perplexed by that curious Eastern subtlety of contradictions which +baffle understanding. + +The inability of the Chinese to keep fingers out of the public till +is proverbial; yet the very high standard of business integrity is +universally conceded. + +[Illustration: SUMMER PALACE OF THE EMPEROR] + +The quality of Chinese honesty is attributed by some to the local +idea of good form, and the obvious mercantile maxim that future +credit depends upon present performance. Bourse operators may be +scrupulously exact as to obligations which the mere lifting of a +finger imposes, while engaged in campaigns diverting to their private +speculations the funds of a chain of banks, or looting the values from +the minority owners of a street-railway. + +Chinese business integrity is said to be due to the fact that her +merchants are of the upper class; cowardice in war, to the fact that +her soldiers are of the lowest caste. In Japan the condition is exactly +reversed: hence the prowess of her Samurai, and the peccability of her +clerks--such that Japanese bankers employ Chinamen to handle their +money. + +Since the Japanese have built up an effective public administration, it +is fair to give the Chinese the benefit of faith, and to assume that in +time they too will rally to the task, and make a modern state. + +With this should come the Trans-Mongolia Railway: opening to the +plainsmen of Central Asia a prospect of civilization and advance. + +Equally or more important, looking at things broadly, it would give to +the world the best of the great Asian trade-routes. Examine a globe +and see what, in the shortening of distance, this land-route to Peking +signifies. Note the enormous circumnavigations that must be made in +going around by India and Suez, and measure then the direct overland +route by the Urga Post-Road and the Trans-Siberian Railway. + +The bulky freight from the Asian Coast to western Europe will still +pay tribute to the sea. To compete with vessel-transportation, which +carries a ton from Shanghai to London for seven dollars, the railroads +over the 7283 miles from Vladivostok to Paris would have to make a +rail-rate of one tenth of a cent per ton-mile; this is impossible when +one remembers the average American rate of eight tenths of a cent. But +North China, all North Asia, and Europe west of Moscow, are within the +railway radius of an Urga-Peking line. + +From interior China may be drawn the goods for half a continent. The +tea-freight which Russia receives over the long sea-trip to Odessa, or +by the trans-shipped Vladivostok route, can be loaded then at Kalgan on +the car that goes to Moscow. By it the silks of the Tien-tsin merchants +may be rolled through into the freight-yards of St. Petersburg, and +the timberless cities of interior China may build with the wood of +the Yakutski Oblast forests. By it the dwellers in the valley of the +Hoang-ho, “China’s Sorrow,” may be nourished in their need with the +wheat of the Angara Valley; the Manchu mandarins may be clad in the +furs from the Yenesei; the ploughshares tempered in Petrovski Zavod +break the ancient soil of the Chi-li Province; the silver of the Altai +Mountains make the bangles that deck the anklets of the purdah women. + +For America the road will open a commercial highway into the very heart +of a new and expanding empire. American rails may carry American +cars,--those ever moving shuttles which weave the woof of trade. +American woolens and felts may protect the Siberians against their +Arctic cold, American machinery mine and refine their gold. New England +cottons, utilizing the Panama Canal, may clothe the myriad coolies +of interior China. Here is the mail-route of ten days from Paris to +Peking, against the thirty-five days needed by the fastest ships. Here +is the quickest passenger-route from London to Yokohama. All these +potentialities lie as the fallow heritage of the Urga Road, if beyond +Kalgan it is given its avenues to China and the sea. It is civilization +that must profit when the equilibrium of the East is restored, and over +the old Urga Road China is relinked to the West by the trains of the +great Asian Railway. + + + The Riverside Press + CAMBRIDGE . MASSACHUSETTS + U . S . A + + +[Illustration: ASIA] + + + + + Transcriber's Notes: + + Italics are shown thus: _sloping_. + + Variations in spelling and hyphenation are retained. + + Perceived typographical errors have been changed. + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77082 *** |