A COSSACK WEDDING--THE PENINSULA OP KAMCHATKA
Our time in Petropavlovsk, after the departure of the _Olga_, was
almost wholly occupied in making preparations for our northern journey
through the Kamchatkan peninsula. On Tuesday, however, Dodd told me
that there was to be a wedding at the church, and invited me to go
over and witness the ceremony. It took place in the body of the
church, immediately after some sort of morning service, which had
nearly closed when we entered. I had no difficulty in singling out the
happy individuals whose fortunes were to be united in the holy
bonds of matrimony. They betrayed their own secret by their assumed
indifference and unconsciousness.
The unlucky (lucky?) man was a young, round-headed Cossack about
twenty years of age, dressed in a dark frock-coat trimmed with scarlet
and gathered like a lady's dress above the waist, which, with a
reckless disregard for his anatomy, was assumed to be six inches below
his armpits. In honour of the extraordinary occasion he had donned a
great white standing collar which projected above his ears, as the
mate of the _Olga_ would say, "like fore to'gallant studd'n' s'ls."
Owing to a deplorable lack of understanding between his cotton
trousers and his shoes they failed to meet by about six inches, and
no provision had been made for the deficiency. The bride was
comparatively an old woman--at least twenty years the young man's
senior, and a _widow_. I thought with a sigh of the elder Mr. Weller's
parting injunction to his son, "Bevare o' the vidders," and wondered
what the old gentleman would say could he see this unconscious
"wictim" walking up to the altar "and thinkin' in his 'art that it was
all wery capital." The bride wore a dress of that peculiar sort of
calico known as "furniture prints," without trimming or ornaments of
any kind. Whether it was cut "bias" or with "gores," I'm sorry to say
I do not know, dress-making being as much of an occult science to
me as divination. Her hair was tightly bound up in a scarlet silk
handkerchief, fastened in front with a little gilt button. As soon as
the church service was concluded the altar was removed to the
middle of the room, and the priest, donning a black silk gown which
contrasted strangely with his heavy cowhide boots, summoned the couple
before him.
After giving to each three lighted candles tied together with blue
ribbon, he began to read in a loud sonorous voice what I supposed to
be the marriage service, paying no attention whatever to stops, but
catching his breath audibly in the midst of a sentence and hurrying on
again with tenfold rapidity. The candidates for matrimony were silent,
but the deacon, who was looking abstractedly out of a window on the
opposite side of the church, interrupted him occasionally with doleful
chanted responses.
At the conclusion of the reading they all crossed themselves devoutly
half a dozen times in succession, and after asking them the decisive
question the priest gave them each a silver ring. Then came more
reading, at the end of which he administered to them a teaspoonful
of wine out of a cup. Reading and chanting were again resumed and
continued for a long time, the bridegroom and bride crossing and
prostrating themselves continually, and the deacon closing up his
responses by repeating with the most astounding rapidity,
fifteen times in five seconds, the words "Gáspodi pomilui"
(goss'-po-dee-po-mee'-loo-ee), "God have mercy upon us." He then
brought in two large gilt crowns ornamented with medallions, and,
blowing off the dust which had accumulated upon them since the last
wedding, he placed them upon the heads of the bridegroom and bride.
The young Cossack's crown was altogether too large, and slipped down
over his head like a candle-extinguisher until it rested upon his
ears, eclipsing his eyes entirely. The bride's hair--or rather the
peculiar manner in which it was "done up"--precluded the possibility
of making a crown stay on her head, and an individual from among the
spectators was detailed to hold it there. The priest then made the
couple join hands, seized the groom's hand himself, and they all began
a hurried march around the altar--the priest first, dragging along the
Cossack, who, blinded by the crown, was continually stepping on his
leader's heels; the bride following the groom, and trying to keep
the crown from pulling her hair down; and lastly, the supernumerary
stepping on the bride's dress and holding the gilt emblem of royalty
in its place. The whole performance was so indescribably ludicrous
that I could not possibly keep my countenance in that sober frame
which befitted the solemnity of the occasion, and nearly scandalised
the whole assembly by laughing out loud. Three times they marched in
this way around the altar, and the ceremony was then ended. The bride
and groom kissed the crowns reverently as they took them off, walked
around the church, crossing themselves and bowing in succession before
each of the pictures of saints which hung against the wall, and at
last turned to receive the congratulations of their friends. It was
expected of course that the "distinguished Americans," of whose
intelligence, politeness, and suavity so much had been heard would
congratulate the bride upon this auspicious occasion; but at least one
distinguished but unfortunate American did not know how to do it. My
acquirements in Russian were limited to "Yes," "No," and "How do you
do?" and none of these expressions seemed fully to meet the emergency.
Desirous, however, of sustaining the national reputation for
politeness, as well as of showing my good-will to the bride, I
selected the last of the phrases as probably the most appropriate, and
walking solemnly, and I fear awkwardly, up I asked the bride with a
very low bow, and in very bad Russian--how she did; she graciously
replied, "Cherasvwechiano khorasho pakornashae vass blagadoroo," and
the distinguished American retired with a proud consciousness of
having done his duty. I was not very much enlightened as to the state
of the bride's health; but, judging from the facility with which she
rattled off this tremendous sentence, we concluded that she must be
well. Nothing but a robust constitution and the most excellent health
would have enabled her to do it. Convulsed with laughter, Dodd and I
made our escape from the church and returned to our quarters. I have
since been informed by the Major that the marriage ceremony of the
Greek Church, when properly performed, has a peculiar impressiveness
and solemnity; but I shall never be able to see it now without having
my solemnity overcome by the recollection of that poor Cossack,
stumbling around the altar after the priest with his head extinguished
in a crown!
From the moment when the Major decided upon the overland journey
through Kamchatka, he devoted all his time and energies to the work of
preparation. Boxes covered with sealskin, and intended to be hung from
pack-saddles, were prepared for the transportation of our stores;
tents, bearskins, and camp equipage were bought and packed away in
ingeniously contrived bundles; and everything that native experience
could suggest for lessening the hardships of outdoor life was provided
in quantities sufficient for two months' journey. Horses were then
ordered from all the adjacent villages, and a special courier was sent
throughout the peninsula by the route that we intended to follow, with
orders to apprise the natives everywhere of our coming, and to direct
them to remain at home with all their horses until after our party
should pass.
Thus prepared, we set out on the 4th of September for the Far North.
The peninsula of Kamchatka, through which we were about to travel, is
a long irregular tongue of land lying east of the Okhotsk Sea, between
the fifty-first and sixty-second degrees of north latitude, and
measuring in extreme length about seven hundred miles. It is almost
entirely of volcanic formation, and the great range of rugged
mountains by which it is longitudinally divided comprises even now
five or six volcanoes in a state of almost uninterrupted activity.
This immense chain of mountains, which has never even been named,
stretches from the fifty-first to the sixtieth degree of latitude in
one almost continuous ridge, and at last breaks off abruptly into the
Okhotsk Sea, leaving to the northward a high level steppe called
the "dole" or desert, which is the wandering ground of the Reindeer
Koraks. The central and southern parts of the peninsula are broken
up by the spurs and foot-hills of the great mountain range into deep
sequestered valleys of the wildest and most picturesque character, and
afford scenery which, for majestic and varied beauty, is not surpassed
in all northern Asia. The climate everywhere, except in the extreme
north, is comparatively mild and equable, and the vegetation has an
almost tropical freshness and luxuriance totally at variance with all
one's ideas of Kamchatka. The population of the peninsula I estimate
from careful observation at about 5000, and it is made up of three
distinct classes--the Russians, the Kamchadals or settled natives, and
the Wandering Koraks. The Kamchadals, who compose the most numerous
class, are settled in little log villages throughout the peninsula,
near the mouths of small rivers which rise in the central range
of mountains and fall into the Okhotsk Sea or the Pacific. Their
principal occupations are fishing, fur-trapping, and the cultivation
of rye, turnips, cabbages, and potatoes, which grow thriftily as far
north as lat. 58°. Their largest settlements are in the fertile
valley of the Kamchatka River, between Petropavlovsk and Kluchei
(kloo-chay'). The Russians, who are comparatively few in number,
are scattered here and there among the Kamchadal villages, and are
generally engaged in trading for furs with the Kamchadals and the
nomadic tribes to the northward. The Wandering Koraks, who are the
wildest, most powerful, and most independent natives in the peninsula,
seldom come south of the 58th parallel of latitude, except for the
purpose of trade. Their chosen haunts are the great desolate steppes
lying east of Penzhinsk (pen'-zhinsk) Gulf, where they wander
constantly from place to place in solitary bands, living in large fur
tents and depending for subsistence upon their vast herds of tamed and
domesticated reindeer. The government under which all the inhabitants
of Kamchatka nominally live is administered by a Russian officer
called an "ispravnik" (is-prav'-nik) or local governor [Footnote:
Strictly, a chief of district police.] who is supposed to settle all
questions of law which may arise between individuals or tribes, and to
collect the annual "yassák" or tax of furs, which is levied upon every
male inhabitant in his province. He resides in Petropavlovsk, and
owing to the extent of country over which he has jurisdiction, and the
imperfect facilities which it affords for getting about, he is seldom
seen outside of the village where he has his headquarters. The only
means of transportation between the widely separated settlements of
the Kamchadals are packhorses, canoes, and dog-sledges, and there is
not such a thing as a road in the whole peninsula. I may have occasion
hereafter to speak of "roads," but I mean by the word nothing more
than the geometrician means by a "line"--simple longitudinal extension
without any of the sensible qualities which are popularly associated
with it.
[Illustration: A TENT OF THE WANDERING KORAKS IN SUMMER]
Through this wild, sparsely populated region, we purposed to travel by
hiring the natives along our route to carry us with their horses from
one settlement to another until we should reach the territory of the
Wandering Koraks. North of that point we could not depend upon any
regular means of transportation, but would be obliged to trust to luck
and the tender mercies of the arctic nomads.
[Illustration: Reindeer Bridle and Snow Shovel.]