stranger—Russ or Norwegian—may strike, kick, or cuff him,—he will not
return the blow. Belike he will burst into tears!
And yet, under some circumstances, he shows a feeling akin to courage.
He is cool in moments of danger from the elements, or when opposed to
fierce animals, as the wolf or the bear. He is also capable of enduring
fatigue to an extreme degree; and it is known historically that he was
once warlike,—at least much more so than at present. _Now_, there is not
a drop of warrior blood in his veins. On the contrary, he is timid and
pacific, and rarely quarrels. He carries constantly upon his person a
long ugly knife, of Norwegian manufacture; but he has never been known
to draw it,—never known to commit murder with it.
These are certainly virtues; but it is to be feared that with him they
owe their origin to timidity and the dread of consequences. Now and then
he has a quarrel with one of his fellows; but the knife is never used;
and the “punishment” consists in giving and receiving various kicks,
scratches, pullings of the hair and ears: genuine blows, however, are
not attempted, and the long knife never leaves its sheath.
In the olden time he was a great believer in witches; in fact, noted for
his faith in sorcery. Christianity, such as it is, has done much to
eradicate this belief; but he is still troubled with a host of
superstitions.
Of filial and parental affection his stock is but scanty. The son shifts
for himself, as soon as he is able to do so; and but little anxiety is
exhibited about him afterwards. The daughter goes to the highest
bidder,—to him who is most liberal in presents of brandy to the parent.
Jealousy is little known. How could it be felt, where there is no love?
One of the worst vices of the Laplander is his fondness for
drink,—amounting almost to a passion. It is one of his costliest, too:
since he often consumes the produce of his industry in its indulgence.
His favorite beverage is strong, bad brandy,—a staple article kept by
the traders, to exchange for the commodities which the country affords.
As these men care little for the result, and have a far greater
influence over the Laplander than either the government officials, or
the lazy, timeserving missionaries, it is not probable that temperance
will ever be introduced among these wretched people. Fortunately, only
the coast Laplanders are at all times subject to this influence. The
mountain people or those who dwell most of their time in the interior,
are too distant from the “tap” to be so grievously affected by it. It is
only on their short annual visits to the merchant stations on the coast,
that they fall extensively into the jaws of this degrading vice.
The dress of the Laplander is now to be described.
The men wear on their heads tall caps, of a conical form, usually of a
cloth called _wadmal_, or some species of kersey furnished by the
merchants. This cap has a tassel at top, and around the bottom is turned
up several inches,—where it is strengthened by a band of reindeer-skin,
or the fur of the otter. The coat is a loose garment or frock: made of
the skin of the reindeer, with the hairy side out, and fastened around
the waist with a broad leathern belt.
In this belt is stuck the pointed knife, and a pouch or two, for pipe,
tobacco, and spoon, are also suspended from it. Breeches of
reindeer-skin—the hide of the young fawns—reach to the ankles; and
buskins, or rather stockings, of the same material cover the feet. These
are gartered over the ends of the breeches, in such a way that no snow
can get in; and since there is neither shirt nor drawers worn, we have
given every article of a Laplander’s dress. No. There are the gloves, or
mittens, which must not be forgotten,—as they are one of the things most
essential to his comfort. These are also the universal deer-hide.
Simple as is this dress of the Lapland men, it is not more simple than
that of the Lapland women, since both one and the other are exactly
alike. A slight difference is observable in the shape of the bonnet; but
for the rest, the lady wears the deer-skin frock, the breeches, and
boots,—and like her liege lord, she scorns to include linen in her
wardrobe. This plain dress, however, is the every-day _winter_ costume.
The summer one, and especially upon grand occasions, is somewhat
different, and altogether gayer. The shape is much the same; but the
tunic or frock is of cloth, sometimes plain, coarse _wadmal_; but in the
case of the richer proprietors, of fine colored cloth,—even scarlet
being sometimes worn. No matter what the quality of the cloth, however,
the trimmings are always of rich, bright-colored stuffs; and consist of
bands or cords around the skirt, sleeves, and collar, elaborately
stitched by the females,—who are in all cases the tailors. The leathern
belt, worn with this dress, is loaded with ornaments,—little square and
triangular plates of brass or white metal, and often of heavy, solid
silver. The belt is an esteemed article,—as much so as his wampum to a
North-American savage,—and it requires a large sum to tempt a Laplander
to part with the precious equipment. A finer cap is also worn, on these
summer and holiday occasions. Not unfrequently, however, the
Laplander—especially the mountain Lap—sticks to his deer-skin coat, the
_paesk_, through all weathers, and throughout all seasons,—when it is
too hot simply taking off the belt, and leaving the flaps loose and
open. In cold weather, and especially when riding in his sledge, an
additional garment is worn. This is a fur “tippet,” which covers his
shoulders down to the elbows. It is made from the shaggy skin of the
brown bear,—with the claws left on and hanging down in front of the
breast.
Before proceeding to describe the mode of life and occupation of the
Laplander, it is necessary to state that all of the people known as
Laplanders, are not occupied alike. On the contrary, they may be
separated into three distinct classes, according to the lives which they
lead; and it is absolutely necessary to make this classification in the
illustration of their habits. They are all alike in race and national
characteristics,—all Laplanders,—and they differ but little in their
style of dressing; but, in other respects, what might be said of one
would not be true of the other two. I proceed, therefore, to point out
the distinction.
The first to be noticed are those we have already mentioned under the
title of “Coast,” or “Shore Laplanders.” The name will give an idea of
their _habitat_,—as also their mode of life and subsistence. They dwell
along the Norwegian coasts, round to the North Cape, and even beyond it.
They build their _gammes_, or sod-thatched dwellings, in little villages
around the numerous creeks and “fiords” that intersect this rock-bound
shore.
Their calling is that of fishermen. They subsist almost entirely upon
fish; and live by selling their surplus to the merchants and Russian
traders. They keep a few sheep, sometimes a poor cow, but rarely own the
reindeer. The life they lead is entirely different from that of their
kindred, who dwell habitually in the interior. As it differs little from
that of poor fishermen elsewhere, I shall dismiss the coast Laplander
without another word.
The second kind of Lap who merits our consideration, is that known as
the “Wood Laplander,” or, more commonly, “Wood Lap.” He is less known
than either of the two other varieties; but, as already stated, he
differs from them principally on account of his occupation. His home is
to be found upon the extensive plain country of Russian Lapland, and not
near the sea. He is a dweller in the pine and fir-forests; and builds
him a rude hut, very similar to the gamme of the coast Lap; but he is in
possession of some reindeer,—not enough, however, to support him,—and he
ekes out a subsistence by fishing in the rivers and fresh-water lakes of
the interior, by shooting the elk and wild reindeer, and trapping the
fur-bearing animals,—the ermine, the sable, the miniver-squirrel, the
badger, glutton, foxes, and wolves.
As his calling is chiefly that of a hunter and trapper, and therefore
very similar to like occupations in many other parts of the world, we
need not enter into details of it here. For the present, therefore, we
must _shelve_ the _Wood Lap_ along with his kinsman of the coast.
This brings us to the third class,—the “Mountain,” or, as he is often
called, the “Reindeer Laplander:” since it is the possession of this
animal that chiefly distinguishes him from the other two classes of his
countrymen.
His mode of life is altogether different from either,—in fact,
resembling theirs in but few particulars. True, he fishes a little, and
occasionally does a bit of amateur hunting; but these are mere adjuncts
or pastimes. His main support is his antlered flock: it would be more
truthful to call it his _sole_ support. By the reindeer he lives, by the
reindeer he _moves_, by the reindeer he has his being.
His life is purely pastoral; he is a nomade,—a wanderer. All the world
knows this; but all the world does not know _why_ he wanders. Writers
have asserted that it was to seek new pasture for his flocks,—the old
ground having been eaten bare. Nothing of the sort. He leaves the
fertile plains, just as the willows are putting forth their succulent
shoots,—just as the rich grass begins to spring fresh and green,—and
betakes himself to the bleak sides of the mountains. That does not look
like seeking for a better pasture. It has nothing to do with it.
Let us follow him, however, throughout his wanderings,—through the
circuit of a single year,—and, perhaps, we shall find out the motive
that inducts him into the roving habit.
First, then, to be a “Reindeer Laplander,” he must be the owner of one
hundred head of deer; fewer than that will be of no use. If he have only
fifty, he must sell out, and betake himself to some settlement of Qüans
or Norwegians,—there to give his service for hire,—or else turn Coast
Laplander and fisherman,—a calling which he despises. This would be a
sinking in the social scale; but, if he has been imprudent or
unfortunate, and his flock has got reduced to fifty head, there is no
help for it. If he have one hundred, however, he may manage with great
economy to rub on; and keep up his character as a _free Reindeer Lap_.
With three hundred he can live comfortably; better with five hundred;
but a thousand would render him affluent. With fifteen hundred he would
be a grandee, and two thousand would give him the rank of a millionaire!
There are very few millionaires in Lapland, and not many grandees.
Proprietors of even a thousand head are scarce; there are more whose
herds number from three hundred to five hundred each.
And here, I may remark, that there is no government,—no tribal
organization. The owner of each herd is the head of a family; over them
he is patriarch, but his power extends no further. It is not even great
so far, if there chance to be grown-up unruly sons sharing the common
tent.
I have used the word tent. That is the Reindeer Laplander’s home,—winter
and summer alike. Notwithstanding the severity of his clime, he builds
no house; and even his tent is of the very rudest kind known among
tenting tribes. It consists of some birch saplings set up in the snow,
bent towards each other, and then covered over with a piece of coarse
cloth,—the _wadmal_. This he prefers to a covering of skins; and obtains
it from the Norwegian or Russ trader in exchange for the latter. The
tent, when standing, is only six feet high, and not much more in
diameter. In this circumscribed space his whole family, wife, daughters,
sons, often a retainer or two, and about a dozen dogs find shelter from
the piercing blast,—seated, or lying beside, or on top of one another,
higgledy-piggledy, any way they can. There is room found besides for a
large iron or brass cooking-pot, some dishes and bowls of birch, a rude
stone furnace, and a fire in the middle of the floor. Above the fire, a
rack forms a shelf for countless tough cheeses, pieces of reindeers’
flesh, bowls of milk, bladders of deer’s blood, and a multiplicity ofi
like objects.
The spring is just opening; the frost has thawed from the trees,—for the
winter home is in the midst of a forest,—the ground is bare of snow, and
already smiling with a carpet of green, enamelled by many brilliant
flowers. It is time, therefore, for the Reindeer Laplander to decamp
from the spot, and seek some other scene less inviting to the eye. You
will naturally inquire why he does this? and perhaps you will express
some surprise at a man showing so little judgment as to take leave of
the fertile plain,—just now promising to yield him a rich pasture for
his herds,—and transport his whole stock to the cold declivity of a
bleak mountain? Yes, it is natural this should astonish you,—not,
however, when you have heard the explanation.
Were he to stay in that plain—in that wood where he has wintered—a month
longer, he would run the risk of losing half of his precious herd:
perhaps in one season find himself reduced to the necessity of becoming
a _Coast Lap_. The reason is simple,—the great gad-fly (_Æstrus
tarandi_), with numerous other tormentors, are about to spring forth
from the morass; and, as soon as the hot sun has blown them into full
strength and vitality, commence their work of desolation upon the deer.
In a few short days or hours their eggs would be deposited in the
skin,—even in the nostrils of the antlered creature,—there to germinate
and produce disease and death. Indeed, the torment of biting gnats and
other insects would of itself materially injure the health and condition
of the animals; and if not driven to the mountains, they would
“stampede,” and go there of their own accord. It becomes a necessity,
then, for the Reindeer Lap to remove his habitation; and, having
gathered a few necessary utensils, and packed them on his stoutest
bucks, he is off to the mountains.
He does not take the whole of his _penates_ along with him. That would
be difficult, for the snow is now gone, and he cannot use his proper
mode of travelling,—the sledge. This he leaves behind him; as well as
all other implements and articles of household use, which he can do
without in his summer quarters. The cooking-pot, and a few bowls and
dishes, go along with him,—also the tent-cloth, and some skins for
bedding. The smaller articles are deposited in panniers of wicker, which
are slung over the backs of a number of pack-deer; and, if a balance be
required, the infant Lap, in its little boat-like cradle, forms the
adjusting medium.
The journey is often of immense length. There may be highlands near, but
these are not to the Laplander’s liking. Nothing will satisfy him but
the bold mountain-range that overlooks the sea, trending along the whole
Norwegian coast: only on the declivities of this, or on one of the
thousand elevated rocky isles that guard this extensive seaboard, does
the Laplander believe that his deer will enjoy proper health. He has a
belief, moreover, that at least once every year, the reindeer should
drink sea-water to keep them in condition. Certain it is, that on
reaching the sea, these animals rush eagerly into the water, and drink
the briny fluid; and yet ever after, during the same season, they refuse
to taste it! It is the general opinion that the solitary draught thus
taken has the effect of destroying such larvæ, as may have already
formed in their skins.
This journey often costs the Laplander great fatigue and trouble. It is
not uncommon for him to go two hundred miles to the Norwegian coast; for
although the habitual home may lie much nearer to the shores of the
Bothnian gulf, it would not serve his purpose to take his flock there.
The forest on that side grows to the water’s edge; and the gadfly is as
abundant there, as in the wooded districts of the interior.
On reaching his destination, the Laplander chooses his grazing-ground,
sometimes on the mountains of the mainland; but he prefers one of the
elevated islets so numerous along the shore. This insures him against
all danger from the flies, and also saves him much trouble in herding
his deer. The islet may be two miles from the main, or any other land.
That does not signify. The reindeer can swim like ducks, and the herd is
soon driven over. The wadmal tent is then pitched, and the work of the
summer begins. This consists in milking, cheese-making, and looking
after the young deer; and a little fishing adds to the keep of the
family: for it is at this time that foreign support is most required.
The season of summer is with the mountain Lap his season of scarcity! He
does not dream of killing his deer at this season,—that would be sheer
waste,—nor does he drink their milk, only in very little quantity. It
goes to the making of cheese, and the owner of the herd contents himself
with the whey. Butter is not made at all by the Reindeer Lap, though the
Qüans and Norwegians make some. The Lap would have no use for it,—since
he eats no bread,—and it would not keep so well, nor yet be so safe an
article of merchandise as the cheese. The latter he regards as his
staple article of profit. He sells it to the coast-merchant: receiving
in exchange his favorite dram-stuff, and a few pieces of coarse cloth,
or utensils. The merchant is near at hand: for just for this very
purpose are several small ports and settlements kept in existence along
the otherwise desert shores of Norway. Deer-skins and dried fish, oils
of the seal, furs and pelts of various kinds, have drawn these little
settlements to the coast. Otherwise they would not be there.
When the heat of the summer is over, the reindeer Laplander commences
his return to his winter abode,—back to the place whence he came. The
gadflies are now gone, and he can drive his deer back with safety; and
just as he travelled to the coast, he wends his way home again: for it
is to be observed that he regards the winter residence as the real home,
and the summer one only as a place of temporary sojourn. He does not
look upon it, as we at such a season. To him it is no pleasant
excursion: rather is it his period of toil and dearth,—his _tightest_
time.
Once home again, he has nothing to do but erect his wadmal tent and look
after his deer,—that now find food upon their favorite lichen. It is
buried inches deep under the snow. They care not for that. They can soon
uncover the pasture with their broad hoofs; and their keen scent never
allows them to scrape up the snow without finding the lichen underneath.
Upon it they thrive, and at this season are in the best condition for
the knife.
The Laplander now also enjoys life. If rich, he has fresh venison every
day; but even if only moderately well off, he “kills” two or three times
a week. His mode of slaughtering is original. He sticks his long
knife-blade into the throat of the animal, leaving it there till the
creature is dead! This precaution he takes to prevent waste. Were he to
pull out the blade, the blood would flow and be lost. The knife acts as
a stopper to the wound it has made. The blood is preserved and carefully
put away,—the bladder being used as the vessel to contain it.
You must not imagine that the Reindeer Lap remains all the winter in one
place; on the contrary, he moves repeatedly, always taking his tent and
tent-utensils along with him. The tent is as easily set up as taken
down. The ground in all sheltered places is, at this season, covered
with snow. It is only necessary to shovel it off, clearing a circular
space about the size of the ground-plan of the tent. The snow, thus
removed, produces a sort of elevated ring or snow-dyke all round the
bare spot; and into this the tent-poles are hammered. They are then bent
inward, tied near the tops, and the _wadmal_ being laid on as before,
the tent is ready for use.
Fresh branches of evergreen pines, and other trees, are strewed over the
floor; and on top of these are laid the deer-skins that serve for beds,
chairs, tables, and blankets. These, with the iron cooking-pot, a large
iron or brass pail to hold melted snow-water for drinking, and a few
other utensils, are the only furniture of the dwelling. I have already
stated that the fire is built in the centre of the tent,—on some large
stones, forming a rudely-constructed hearth. A hole in the roof is
intended for a chimney; but its draught is so bad, that the tent is
almost always filled with a cloud of bitter smoke,—so thick as to render
objects invisible. In this atmosphere no other European, excepting a
Lap, could possibly exist; and travellers, passing through the Lapland
country, have often preferred braving the cold frost of the night air,
to being half smothered by the smoke: and have consequently taken
shelter under a neighboring tree. The Laplander himself feels but little
inconvenienced by the very thickest smoke.
Habit is everything, and to this habit has he been used from his
infancy. His eyes, however, are not so indifferent to the annoyance.
These suffer from it; and the consequence is that the eyes of the
Laplanders are almost universally sore and watery. This is a notable
characteristic of the race. Smoke, however, is not the sole cause of it.
The Esquimaux equally suffer from sore eyes; and these, burning oil in
their houses instead of wood, are seldom troubled with smoke. More
likely it is the snow-glare to which the Laplander, as well as the
Esquimaux, is much exposed, that brings about this copious _watering_ of
the eyes.
The Laplander cooks the reindeer flesh by boiling. A large piece is put
into the great family pot, and nothing added but a quantity of water. In
this the meat boils and simmers till it is done tender. The oily fat is
then skimmed off, and put into a separate vessel; and the meat is
“dished” in a large tray or bowl of birch-bark
A piece is then cut off, for each individual of the family; and handed
around the circle. It is eaten without bread, and even salt is dispensed
with. A dip in the bowl of skim-fat is all the seasoning it gets; and it
is washed down with the “liquor” in which it has been boiled, and which
is nothing but greasy water, without vegetables or any other “lining.”
It has the flavor of the fat venison, however; and is by no means
ill-tasted The _angelica_ flourishes in the country of the Laplander,
and of this vegetable he makes occasional use, not eating the roots, but
the stalks and leaves, usually raw and without any preparation. Perhaps
he is led to use it, by a knowledge of the antiscorbutic properties of
the plant.
Several species of berry-producing bushes also furnish him with an
occasional meal of fruit. There are wild currants, the cranberry,
whortle, and bilberries. The fruits of these trees do not fall in the
autumn, as with us; but remain all winter upon the branches. Buried
under the snow, they are preserved in perfect condition, until the thaw
of the following spring once more brings them into view. At this time
they are sweet and mellow; and are gathered in large quantities by the
Lap women. Sometimes they are eaten, as they come from the tree; but it
is more usual to make them into a “plum-pudding:” that is, they are
mixed with a kind of curdled milk, and stored away in bladders. When
wanted, a slice is cut from the mass,—including a piece of the bladder,
within which they have now attained to the stiffness and consistence of
a “cream-cheese.”
Another great luxury of the Laplander, is the reindeer’s milk frozen
into an “ice.” This is easily obtained; and the process consists simply
in filling a birchen bowl with milk, and exposing it to the open air
during frost. It is soon converted into solid ice; and in this condition
will keep perfectly sweet throughout the whole of the winter. As the
reindeer are never milked in the depth of the winter season, the
Laplander takes care, before that period approaches, to lay in a stock
of ice-milk: so that he may have a drink of it at all times, by simply
setting one of his birchen bowls within reach of the fire. He even makes
a merchandise of this article: for the frozen reindeer milk is highly
prized by the foreign merchants; who are ready, at any time, to exchange
for the delicious article a dram of their devilish fire-water.