CHAPTER CXLVI.
SIBERIA.
THE TCHUKTCHI—JAKUTS—TUNGUSI.
HOME OF THE TCHUKTCHI — INDEPENDENCE — DISTRICT OF THE RUSSIANS — CARAVANS — INTOXICATION BY TOBACCO — FAIR OF OSTROWNOJE — GRAVITY OF THE TCHUKTCHI — THEIR TENT — MADAME LEÜTT — HOSPITALITY — SHAMANISM — HUMAN SACRIFICE — POLYGAMY — MURDER OF THE AGED — JAKUTS — THEIR ENDURANCE — RESERVE — SUPERSTITION — THE TUNGUSI — DIFFERENT TRIBES — CANNIBALISM — ORNAMENTS — BRAVERY — DIET — SHAMANISM — DISPOSAL OF THE DEAD — A NIGHT’S HALT WITH THE TUNGUSI IN THE FOREST — SPORTS — FAIRS.
Crossing Behring’s Straits into Asia, we find in Northern Siberia several peoples whose condition and character bring them within the scope of this work.
The home of the Tchuktchi is at the extreme north-eastern point of Asia; bounded by the Polar Ocean on one side, and by Behring Sea on the other. It is, as the few travellers who have visited it say, one of the dreariest regions of the earth. There is no indication of summer before July 20th, and winter begins about the 20th of August. The sea coasts abound with seals, sea-lions, and walruses; while the wolf, reindeer, and Arctic fox abound in the interior. In this cold, desolate region dwell the only aboriginal race of Northern Asia that has resisted all attempts of the Russian government to take away its independence. Dr. Hartwig, in his sketch of this tribe, says: “The rulers of Siberia have confined them within narrower limits, but they obey no foreign leader, and wander unmolested, with their numerous reindeer herds, over the naked tundras.”
A natural distrust of their powerful neighbors has rendered them long unwilling to enter into any commercial intercourse with the Russians, and to meet them at the fair of Ostrownoje, a small town, situated not far from their frontiers, on a small island of the Aninj, in 68° N. lat.
From the East Cape of Asia, where, crossing Behring’s Strait in boats covered with skins, they barter furs and walrus teeth with the natives of America, the Tchuktchi come with their goods and tents drawn on sledges to the fair of Ostrownoje. One of these caravans generally consists of fifty or sixty families, and one fair is scarcely at an end when they set off to make their arrangements for the next.
Tobacco is the primum mobile of the trade which centres in Ostrownoje. Their pipes are of a peculiar character, larger at the stem than the bowl, which holds a very small quantity of tobacco. In smoking, they swallow the fumes of the tobacco, and often, after six or eight whiffs, fall back, completely intoxicated for the time.
But Ostrownoje attracts not only Tchuktchi and Russians; a great number of the Siberian tribes, from a vast circuit of 1,000 or 1,500 versts,—Jukahiri, Lamutes, Tungusi, Tschuwanzi, Koriacks,—also come flocking in their sledges, drawn partly by dogs, partly by horses, for the purpose of bartering their commodities against the goods of the Tchuktchi. Fancy this barbarous assembly meeting every year during the intense cold and short days of the beginning of March. Picture to yourself the fantastic illumination of their red watch-fires blazing under the starry firmament, or mingling their ruddy glare with the aurora flickering through the skies, and add to the strange sight the hollow sound of the Shaman’s drum, and the howling of several hundreds of hungry dogs, and you will surely confess that no fair has a more original character than that of Ostrownoje.
The imperturbable gravity of the Tchuktch forms a remarkable contrast with the greedy eagerness of the Russian trader. Although the Tchuktchi have no scales with them, it is not easy to deceive them in the weight, for they know exactly by the feeling of the hand whether a quarter of a pound is wanting to the pound. The whole fair seldom lasts longer than three days, and Ostrownoje, which must have but very few stationary inhabitants indeed (as it is not even mentioned in statistical accounts, which cite towns of seventeen souls), is soon after abandoned for many months to its ultra-Siberian solitude.
But before we allow the Tchuktchi to retire to their deserts, we may learn something more of their habits by accompanying Mr. Matiuschkin Wrangell’s companion on a visit to the ladies of one of their first chiefs. “We enter the outer tent, or ‘wamet,’ consisting of tanned reindeer skins supported on a slender framework. An opening at the top to let out the smoke, and a kettle in the centre, announce that antechamber and kitchen are here harmoniously blended into one. But where are the inmates? Most probably in that large sack made of the finest skins of reindeer calves, which occupies, near the kettle, the centre of the ‘wamet.’ To penetrate into this sanctum sanctorum of the Tchuktch household, we raise the loose flap which serves as a door, creep on all-fours through the opening, cautiously re-fasten the flap by tucking it under the floor-skin, and find ourselves in the reception or withdrawing-room,—the ‘polog.’ A snug box, no doubt, for a cold climate, but rather low, as we cannot stand upright in it, and not quite so well ventilated as a sanitary commissioner would approve of, as it has positively no opening for light or air. A suffocating smoke meets us on entering. We rub our eyes, and when they have at length got accustomed to the biting atmosphere, we perceive, by the gloomy light of a train-oil lamp, the worthy family squatting on the floor in a state of almost complete nudity. Without being in the least embarrassed, Madame Leütt and her daughter receive us in their primitive costume. But, to show us that the Tchuktchi know how to receive company, and to do honor to their guests, they immediately insert strings of glass beads in their greasy hair. Their hospitality equals their politeness; for, instead of a cold reception, a hot dish of boiled reindeer flesh, copiously irrigated with rancid train-oil by the experienced hand of the mistress of the household, is soon after smoking before us. Unfortunately, our effeminate taste is not up to the haut goût of her culinary art, and while Mr. Leütt does ample justice to the artistic talent of his spouse, by rapidly bolting down pieces as large as a fist, we are hardly able to swallow a morsel.”
Though most of the Reindeer or nomadic Tchuktchi have been baptized, yet Wrangell supposes the ceremony to have been a mere financial speculation on their part, and is convinced that the power of the Shamans is still as great as ever. An epidemic had carried off a great number of persons, and also whole herds of reindeer. In vain the Shamans had recourse to their usual conjurations. The plague continued. They consulted together, and directed that one of their most respected chiefs, named Kotschen, must be sacrificed, to appease the irritated spirits. Kotschen was willing to submit to the sentence, but none could be found to execute it, until his own son, prevailed on by his father’s exhortations, and terrified by his threatened curse, plunged a knife into his heart, and gave his body to the Shamans.
Polygamy is general among the Tchuktchi, and they change their wives as often as they please. Still, though the women are certainly slaves, they are allowed more influence, and are subjected to less labor, than among many savages. Among other heathenish and detestable customs, is that of killing all deformed children, and all old people as soon as they become unfit for the hardships and fatigues of a nomad life. They do not indulge in any needless cruelty, but stupefy the aged victim, by putting some substance up the nostrils before opening a vein. Two years before Wrangell’s arrival at Kolyma there was an instance of this in the case of one of their richest chiefs. Waletka’s father became infirm and tired of life, and was put to death at his own express desire, by some of his nearest relations.
The number of the Tchuktchi is greater than one might expect to find in so sterile a country. According to the Russian missionaries, there were, some years back, 52 ulusses or villages of the Onkilon (or stationary Tchuktchi), with 1,568 tents, and 10,000 inhabitants, and Wrangell tells us that the Tennygk (or Reindeer Tchuktchi), are at least twice as numerous, so that the entire population of the land of the Tchuktchi may possibly amount to 30,000.
JAKUTS.
The Jakuts are the most energetic of these races, having reached a higher civilization than the others in the same latitude, with the exception of Iceland, Finland, and Norway. They are a pastoral people, hospitable, possess considerable mechanical skill, and are so shrewd and cunning that no Russian can compete with them.
“Even in Siberia,” Wrangell says, “they are called ‘men of iron.’ Often have I seen them sleeping at a temperature of 4° in the open air, and with a thick ice rind covering their almost unprotected bodies.”
Though reserved and unsocial, they are kind to strangers that need assistance. They are the universal carriers to the east of the Lena. Bidding defiance to the cold and the storm, fearing neither the gloom of the forest nor the dangers of the icy stream, yet they are not emancipated from the old belief in Schamanism—the dread of evil spirits. They number about 200,000, and form the principal part of the population of the vast and dreary province of Jakutsk.
THE TUNGUSI.
This race having spread over East Siberia, driving before them the Jakuts, Jukahiri, Tchuktchi, and other aboriginal tribes, were conquered by the Russians, and are now as ignorant and uncivilized as they were two hundred and fifty years ago. Dr. Hartwig, deriving his information from Wrangell, the Arctic explorer, thus sketches the traits of this people:—
“According to their occupations, and the various domestic animals employed by them, they are distinguished by the names of Reindeer, Horse, Dog, Forest, and River Tungusi; but, although they are found from the basins of the Upper, Middle, and Lower Tunguska, to the western shore of the sea of Ochotsk, and from the Chinese frontiers and the Baikal to the Polar Ocean, their whole number does not amount to more than 30,000, and diminishes from year to year, in consequence of the ravages of the small-pox and other epidemic disorders transmitted to them by the Russians. Only a few rear horses and cattle, the reindeer being generally their domestic animal; and the impoverished Tunguse, who has been deprived of his herd by some contagious disorder, or the ravages of the wolves, lives as a fisherman on the borders of a river, assisted by his dog, or retires into the forests as a promyschlenik, or hunter.”
Of the miseries which here await him, Wrangell relates a melancholy instance. In a solitary hut, in one of the dreariest wildernesses imaginable, he found a Tunguse and his daughter. While the father, with his long snow-shoes, was pursuing a reindeer for several days together, this unfortunate girl remained alone and helpless in the hut,—which even in summer afforded but an imperfect shelter against the rain and wind,—exposed to the cold, and frequently to hunger, and without the least occupation. No wonder that the impoverished Tungusi not seldom sink into cannibalism. Neither the reindeer nor the dogs, nor the wives and children of their more fortunate countrymen, are secure from the attacks and voracity of these outcasts, who, in their turn, are treated like wild beasts, and destroyed without mercy. A bartering trade is, however, carried on with them, but only at a distance, and by signs; each party depositing its goods, and following every motion of the other with a suspicious eye.
The Russian government, anxious to relieve the misery of the impoverished nomads, has given orders to settle them along the river banks, and to provide them with the necessary fishing implements; but only extreme wretchedness can induce the Tunguse to relinquish his free life of the forest. His careless temper, his ready wit, and sprightly manner, distinguish him from the other Siberian tribes,—the gloomy Samoïede, the uncouth Ostiak, the reserved Jakut,—but he is said to be full of deceit and malice. His vanity shows itself in the quantity of glass beads with which he decorates his dress of reindeer leather, from his small Tartar cap to the tips of his shoes. When chasing or travelling on his reindeer through the woods, he of course lays aside most of his finery, and puts on large water-tight boots, or sari, well greased with fat, to keep off the wet of the morass. His hunting apparatus is extremely simple. A small axe, a kettle, a leathern bag containing some dried fish, a dog, a short gun, or merely a bow and a sling, is all he requires for his expeditions into the forest. With the assistance of his long and narrow snow-shoes, he flies over the dazzling plains, and protects his eyes, like the Jakut, with a net made of black horse-hair. He never hesitates to attack the bear single-handed, and generally masters him. The nomad Tunguse naturally requires a movable dwelling. His tent is covered with leather, or large pieces of pliable bark, which are easily rolled up and transported from place to place. The yourt of the sedentary Tunguse resembles that of the Jakut, and is so small that it can be very quickly and thoroughly warmed by a fire kindled on the stone hearth in the centre. In his food the Tunguse is by no means dainty. One of his favorite dishes consists of the contents of a reindeer’s stomach mixed with wild berries, and spread out in thin cakes on the rind of trees, to be dried in the air or in the sun. Those who have settled on the Wiluj and in the neighborhood of Nertschinsk likewise consume large quantities of brick tea, which they boil with fat and berries into a thick porridge, and this unwholesome food adds, no doubt, to the yellowness of their complexion.
But few of the Tungusi have been converted to Christianity, the majority being still addicted to Shamanism. They do not like to bury their dead, but place them, in their holiday dresses, in large chests, which they hang up between two trees. The hunting apparatus of the deceased is buried beneath the chest. No ceremonies are used on the occasion, except when a Shaman happens to be in the neighborhood, when a reindeer is sacrificed, on whose flesh the sorcerer and the relatives regale themselves, while the spirits to whom the animal is supposed to be offered are obliged to content themselves with the smell of the burnt fat. As among the Samoïedes or the Ostiaks, woman is a marketable ware among the Tungusi. The father gives his daughter in marriage for twenty or a hundred reindeer, or the bridegroom is obliged to earn her hand by a long period of service.
In East Siberia the Tungusi divide with the Jakuts the task of conveying goods or travellers through the forests, and afford the stranger frequent opportunities for admiring their agility and good humor. On halting after a day’s journey, the reindeer are unpacked in an instant, the saddles and the goods ranged orderly on the ground, and the bridles collected are hung on branches of trees.
Comfortably seated on his reindeer saddle, the traveller may now amuse himself with the dances, which the Tungusi accompany with an agreeable song; or, if he choose to witness their agility in athletic exercises, it only costs him a word of encouragement and a small donation of brandy. Two of the Tungusi hold a rope, and swing it with all their might, so that it does not touch the ground. Meanwhile a third Tunguse skips over the rope, picks up a bow and arrow, spans the bow and shoots the arrow, without once touching the rope. Some particularly bold and expert Tungusi will dance over a sword which a person lying on his back on the ground is swinging about with the greatest rapidity. Should our traveller be a friend of chess, the Tungusi are equally at his service, as they are passionately fond of this noblest of games, especially in the Kolymsk district.
Like all other Siberian nomads, they visit, at least once a year, the various fairs which are held in the small towns scattered here and there over their immense territory, such as Kirensk, Olekminsk, Bargusin and Ochotsk, which, before the opening of Amoor to trade, was the chief port of East Siberia.