CHAPTER IV.

A MOST PALATIAL HOTEL!

The Grand Hotel Moscow, in the good city of Omsk, was grand in name only, and we had only to step inside its portals to realize to the fullest extent that at length we were in Asia. Bad as had been the generality of hotels in European Russia, they seemed like palaces beside this ramshackle affair which was dignified by the name of hotel. A few broken and wretchedly dirty stone steps led us into a white-washed passage, which was flanked on either side by low doorways leading to the six bedrooms--all the “hostinitca” possessed. Scawell barked his shin badly by falling over the brick which, suspended on a rope over a pulley, kept the inner door of the passage closed. Gaskell gave vent to an American expression when he tripped over a long stretch of dirty canvas which was lying, as a sort of apology for a carpet, down the length of the corridor.

The proprietor of the hotel received us with the glare of avarice in his grey eyes. We bargained with him at length for merely the favour of a shelter; for that was all we could expect. He gave us a room for the outrageous charge of four roubles (eight shillings and sixpence), and that was thirty per cent. below his original demand. A lovely room it was too! Two rickety, broken-backed chairs, a small square table, and a truckle bed, on which reposed a filthy and suspicious-looking mattress, formed its sole furniture. The floor was carpetless save for a canvas strip by the door. The usual domestic utensils were absent; there was not even a washstand. There was no lock on the door; the windows were immovable; the walls were of beams laid one on top of another, with the interstices filled with moss and hay to keep out the draught. A delectable hotel this, but in nowise worse than the majority of such places throughout the whole of Siberia.

In case my readers may think I am over-painting this description, it may be as well to explain the why and wherefore of this seemingly barbaric state of things. In the first place, up to the commencement of the Siberian railway, as I have explained in a previous chapter, the only means of communication with interior Siberia was by means of horses. Such enormous distances had to be covered between towns that, in order to accommodate the large number of travellers, the Government erected, on the great high-road which pierces the heart of Siberia, stations at intervals of twenty-five to thirty miles. At these stations horses could be hired at rates set down on a Government schedule, but beyond this and the shelter afforded nothing was provided. It was thus necessary at the outset of the system for the traveller to provide everything requisite for the journey himself. In addition to his luggage, the wise Siberian traveller carried his bed, bed-clothing, food, and, in short, everything that he might require, rendering himself absolutely independent of hospitality on the way. On his arrival at a post-station, he asked for, and wanted nothing but the samovar, or machine for boiling water, with which he made his tea. The charge for the samovar is ten kopecks, which equals twopence-halfpenny. No charge whatever was or is made for the use of the post-house. If one, therefore, excluded the cost of horses, the traveller’s outlay was wonderfully small.

As the towns contained the post-stations as well as the villages, and as the traveller came provided with everything he wanted, it may be readily inferred that the chances of a hotel succeeding are very small, inasmuch as the average Russian is parsimonious, even at the expense of his personal comfort. With, however, the opening of the country by means of the railway, it stands to reason that a new class of travellers will spring up, and thus better accommodation may be provided. The demand for this better accommodation must come from the foreigners, for the Russians themselves are sticklers for custom and habit, and the finest hotel erected for their use would meet but mean patronage at their hands.

Thus it was that the accommodation we received at Omsk was of such a wretched character. Unfortunately we were not so versed in things Russian as the Russians themselves, and our inquiry for four beds was met with a stare of astonishment. We did not press the matter, however, after one of us had made an inspection of the mattress which had already been provided. We thought it safer to sleep on our rugs on the floor.

And so it was in this city of Omsk, capital of the Government of Omsk, a military garrison, the residence of a general governor, four Englishmen could get no better dinner than hard-boiled eggs, a tin of sardines, and black bread, to be washed down with tea, out of glasses, and made from the steaming samovar. Of course, had we been of the usual run of travellers, that it to say functionaries, we should have probably possessed papers which would have admitted us to some Government residence. Being, however, only Englishmen, we had to put up with what we could get.

And as the time wore on, our love of the place did not intensify. We did not mind the blackbeetles so much as the animals which dropped from the ceiling in order to disturb our slumbers. I think we were all pretty hardened members, but the vermin of that room rather got the best of us. Yet this hotel should not be singled out as a speciality in that direction. Conversation on the subject once elicited a tale from a fellow-traveller who, as well as carrying his bedstead with him took four saucers and a can of kerosene. On fixing up his bed for the night, his invariable custom was to fit the legs of the bed one into each saucer and to fill the said saucer with kerosene--the suggestion being that nothing alive would pass the kerosene without being asphixiated. But even that, said our traveller, did not keep him out of trouble, for these things of life, with a sagacity which one would hardly credit in so small an insect, would make a detour by getting up the wall, on to the ceiling, and then, having accurately poised, drop down upon the victim--no doubt to his extreme discomfort. A painful and disagreeable subject this, and one which I shall not allude to again.

Our ablutions in the morning were performed in what will, no doubt, be considered a highly original manner. Having conceived the idea that the removal of at least one layer of grime from our hands and faces would not prejudice our case in Omsk, the difficulty was to find how this was to be accomplished. Judicious inquiries revealed the fact that at the end of the corridor the proprietor of the hotel had provided an arrangement for the convenience of those who were so fastidious as to desire to wash. This arrangement was nothing more or less than a brazen bowl, about the size of a small kettle, which was nailed on the wall. A knob protruded from the bottom of the bowl which, on being jerked up vigorously, let forth a few drops of water on the hands; and so with drops so obtained we managed with extreme economy to get through the mockery of a wash. The waste and the drips went on our knees and splashed around generally, but as nobody cavilled we were content. Having primed ourselves on eggs, bread, and tea, we felt fit to do the town; so, after getting into our felt boots and our furs, we sallied forth.

Omsk is the second city of Western Siberia, and its population, excluding the large proportion of Khirghiz, has been variously estimated at between twenty and thirty thousand. It is a trading centre, for here the steamers from Tiumen and Tobolsk call, and a large quantity of merchandize is landed or shipped. European goods come through Moscow, to Nijni Novgorod by rail, are shipped then on the Volga and Kama to Perm, by train again through Ekaterinburg to Tiumen, and by steamer once more on the Toura, Tobol, and Irtish to find destination at Omsk, whence they are distributed to the outlying towns and villages of the great Baraba steppe. It has in its time been a very prosperous town, and for many years the shopkeepers, cut off from direct competition, have made enormous profits and amassed huge fortunes. The merchants, in fact, form the only society of the city. All seem opulent; and no wonder, when one considers the prices which are asked for even the common necessaries of life. There is a shadow, however, looming over the fortunes of the Omsk merchants, and that is the Trans-Siberian Railway. None realize this better than the merchants themselves, who see that in a few years they will have to face something which they have heard of but never experienced--competition with the outside world. It is said that the community of Omsk was bitterly opposed to the railway passing through the city, “You will ruin our trade,” they cried as with one voice; but the decree of the Emperor had gone forth, and through Omsk went the railway. Ultimately, of course, the city will benefit enormously by being in touch with Europe, but narrow-minded and short-sighted as is the Siberian, it is hard to convince him of this at the present time.

The internal opposition to the Trans-Siberian Railway was widespread, and at Tomsk--one of the most important cities of Siberia--the representations made were so strong that the course of the line (which I am led to understand was originally planned to take in that city) was altered, and passed in a straight line some sixty miles south. The citizens of Tomsk, however, speedily realized the terrible blunder they had made in isolating themselves from the civilizing trading influence of the iron road. The tide of trade flowing into Siberia passed by Tomsk and ebbed into Krasnoiarsk, five hundred miles further on. Tomsk was stranded, and the doom of the city almost sealed. Representations were made, and a branch line was constructed to connect with the main road; but even this will not repay the initial mistake, and people who ought to know assert that Tomsk, which was once, next to Irkutsk, the most important city in all Siberia, must by force of circumstances sink into insignificance.

But reverting to Omsk, I do not think that it was the opinion of any one of the four of us that it was the most agreeable place to spend any length of time in. A city of wide streets, handsome churches, big Government buildings, and a multitude of frame houses. The governor’s palace and the military academy are perhaps the finest edifices apart from the cathedral and the churches, which are always the most handsome buildings of any Russian centre. I had the pleasure of an interview with M. Boulanger, a French gentleman of culture who was head of the academy. He confessed that it was like a ray of sunlight from his beloved France to speak to one who knew his land, for he had lived in Omsk for thirty-five years. I gazed upon him in astonishment. Thirty-five years in Omsk! That dump of houses in the middle of a wilderness! With a seven months’ cruel winter! Out of touch with the world! But time had worked its charm, no doubt; he had resigned himself. He spoke feelingly, though, of the land of his birth--for who, be he native or alien, can do aught but love the fair land of France?--and I, being fresh comparatively from the Western lands, could not but sympathize with him in that resignation.