THE TCHUKTCHI.
The Land of the Tchuktchi.--Their independent Spirit and commercial
Enterprise.--Perpetual Migrations.--The Fair of Ostrownoje.--
Visit in a Tchuktch Polog.--Races.--Tchuktch Bayaderes.--The
Tennygk, or Reindeer Tchuktchi.--The Onkilon, or Sedentary
Tchuktchi.--Their Mode of Life.
At the extreme north-eastern point of Asia, bounded by the Polar
Ocean on one side and the Sea of Bering on the other, lies the land
of the Tchuktchi. The few travellers who have ever visited that bleak
promontory describe it as one of the dreariest regions of the earth.
The climate is dreadfully cold, as may be expected in a country
confined between icy seas. Before July 20th there is no appearance
of summer, and winter already sets in about August 20th. The lower
grounds shelving to the north are intersected with numerous streams,
which, however, enjoy their liberty but a short time of the year;
the valleys are mostly swampy and filled with small lakes or ponds;
while on the bleak hill-slopes the Vaccinium and the dwarf birch or
willow sparingly vegetate under a carpet of mosses and lichens. The
eastern, north-eastern, and partly also the southern coasts abound
with walruses, sea-lions, and seals, while the reindeer, the argali,
the wolf, and the Arctic fox occupy the land. During the short summer,
geese, swans, ducks, and wading-birds frequent the marshy grounds;
but in winter the snow-owl and the raven alone remain, and constantly
follow the path of the nomadic inhabitants. In this desolate nook of
the Old World lives the only aboriginal people of North Asia which
has known how to maintain its liberty to the present day, and which,
proud of its independence, looks down with sovereign contempt upon its
relations, the Korjaks, who, without offering any resistance, have
yielded to the authority of Russia.
The rulers of Siberia have indeed confined the Tchuktchi within narrow
limits, but here at least they obey no foreign ruler, and wander,
unmolested by the stranger, 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
Aniuj, in 68° N. lat.
[Illustration: 96. TCHUKTCHI CANOE.]
This remotest trading-place of the Old World is not so unimportant as
might be supposed, from the sterile nature of the country, for the
Tchuktchi are not satisfied, like the indolent Lapps or Samoïedes,
with the produce of their reindeer herds, but strive to increase
their enjoyments or their property by an active trade. From the East
Cape of Asia, where, crossing Bering’s Straits in boats covered with
skins, they barter furs and walrus-teeth from the natives of America,
the Tchuktchi come with their goods and tents drawn on sledges to the
fair of Ostrownoje. Other sledges laden with lichens, the food of
the reindeer, follow in their train, as in their wanderings, however
circuitous, they not seldom pass through regions so stony and desert
as not even to afford these frugal animals the slightest repast. Thus
regulating their movements by the wants of their herds, they require
five or six months for a journey which, in a direct line, would not be
much longer than a thousand versts, and are almost constantly wandering
from place to place, though, as they always carry their dwellings
along with them, they at the same time never leave home. One of these
snail-like 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. The desire to procure
a few of its narcotic leaves induces the American Esquimaux, from the
Icy Cape to Bristol Bay, to send their produce from hand to hand as far
as the Gwosdew Islands in Bering’s Straits, where it is bartered for
the tobacco of the Tchuktchi, and these again principally resort to the
fair of Ostrownoje to purchase tobacco from the Russians. Generally the
Tchuktchi receive from the Americans as many skins for half a poud,
or eighteen pounds, of tobacco-leaves as they afterwards sell to the
Russians for two pouds of tobacco of the same quality. These cost the
Russian merchant about 160 roubles at the very utmost, while the skins
which he obtains in barter are worth at least 260 at Jakutsk, and are
more than double that sum at St. Petersburg.
[Illustration: 97. TCHUKTCHI PIPE.]
The furs of the Tchuktchi principally consist of black and silver-gray
foxes, stone-foxes, gluttons, lynxes, otters, beavers, and a fine
species of marten which does not occur in Siberia, and approaches the
sable in value. They also bring to the fair bear-skins, walrus-thongs
and teeth, sledge-runners of whale-ribs, and ready-made clothes of
reindeer skin. The American furs are generally packed in sacks of seal
skin, which are made in an ingenious manner by extracting the bones and
flesh through a small opening made in the abdomen.
The Russian traders on their part bring to the fair, besides tobacco,
ironware--particularly kettles and knives--for the Tchuktchi, and
tea, sugar, and various stuffs for their countrymen who have settled
along the Kolyma.
But Ostrownoje attracts not only Tchuktchi and Russians; a great
number of the Siberian tribes from a vast circuit of 1000 or 1500
versts--Jukahires, Lamutes, Tungusi, Tschuwanzi, Koriaks--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. A government commissary,
assisted by some Cossacks, superintends the fair, and receives the
inconsiderable market-tax which the Tchuktchi pay to the Emperor.
All preliminaries having been arranged, the orthodox Russians repair to
the chapel for the purpose of hearing a solemn mass, after which, the
hoisting of a flag on the tower of the ostrog announces the opening of
the market. At this welcome sign, the Tchuktchi, completely armed with
spears, bows, and arrows, advance with their sledges, and form a wide
semicircle round the fort, while the Russians, and the other visitors
of the fair, ranged opposite to them, await in breathless silence the
tolling of the bell, which is to begin the active business of the day.
At the very first sound, each trader, grotesquely laden with packages
of tobacco, kettles, knives, or whatever else he supposes best able to
supply some want, or to strike some fancy of the Tchuktchi, rushes as
fast as he can towards the sledges, and in the jumble not seldom knocks
down a competitor, or is himself stretched at full length on the snow.
But, unmindful of the loss of cap and gloves, which he does not give
himself time to pick up, he starts afresh, to make up for the delay by
redoubled activity. Before he reaches the first Tchuktch, his eloquence
breaks forth in an interminable flow, and in a strange jargon of
Russian, Tchuktch, and Jakute, he praises the excellence of his tobacco
or the solidity of his kettles. The imperturbable gravity of the
Tchuktch forms a remarkable contrast with the greedy eagerness of the
Russian trader; without replying to his harangue, he merely shakes his
head if the other offers him too little for his goods, and never for an
instant loses his self-possession: while the Russian, in his hurry, not
seldom hands over two pouds of tobacco for one, or pockets a red fox
instead of a black one. Although the Tchuktch 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 poud. 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 ‘namet,’ consisting of tanned
reindeer skins supported on a slender frame-work. 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 ‘namet.’ 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 can not 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.”
During his visit at Ostrownoje, Matiuschkin had a favorable opportunity
of becoming acquainted with the sports of the Tchuktchi, the
chieftain, Makomol, having set out prizes for a race. These consisted
of a valuable silver fox, a first-rate beaver skin, and two fine
walrus-teeth. Nothing can be more admirable than the fleetness of the
reindeer or the dexterity of their drivers; and the agility displayed
in the foot-race by the Tchuktchi, running at full speed, in their
heavy winter dresses, over a distance of fifteen versts, gives a
high idea of their muscular powers. After the races, the spectators
are treated to a grand choregraphic display. The Arctic bayaderes,
muffled from head to foot in their stiff skin garments, form a narrow
circle, slowly moving their feet backward and forward, and fiercely
gesticulating with their hands, whilst their faces are distorted into a
thousand horrible grimaces. The singing that accompanies the ballet has
no doubt its charm for native ears, but to strangers it seems no better
than a kind of grunt. The representation is closed by three first-rate
_artistes_ executing a particularly favorite dance. The faces of their
countrymen express the same intense admiration with which a European
dilettante follows the graceful pirouettes of a Taglioni, while the
Russian guests see only three greasy monsters alternately rushing
towards each other and starting back, until at length they stop from
sheer exhaustion. As a token of their satisfaction, the Russians regale
the fair performers with a cup of brandy and a roll of tobacco, and
both parties take leave of each other with mutual protestations of
satisfaction and friendship.
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. 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.
Besides the wandering, or Reindeer Tchuktchi, who call themselves
Tennygk, there are others, dwelling in fixed habitations along the
borders of the sea at Bering’s Straits and the Gulf of Anadyr, who
differ considerably from the former in appearance and language. These
Onkilon, or stationary Tchuktchi, belong to the wide-spread Esquimaux
family, and, like most of their race, subsist by hunting the whale,
the walrus, and the seal. They live in a state of abject dependence
on the nomad Tchuktchi, and are poor, like all fishermen, while some
of the Tennygk chieftains possess several thousands of reindeer, and
are continually adding to their wealth by trade. Of course there is an
active exchange of commodities between the two; the Onkilon furnishing
thongs of walrus hide, walrus-teeth, train-oil, etc., and receiving
reindeer skins, or ready-made clothes of the same material, in return.
They live in small settlements or villages spread along the coast;
their huts, raised on frame-works of whale-rib and covered with skins,
resemble a large irregular cone reposing on its side, with the apex
directed to the north, and the base shelving abruptly to the south.
Here is the small opening, closed by a flap of loose skin, which serves
as a door, while the smoke escapes and the light enters through a round
hole in the roof. At the farther or northern end of this structure is a
second low square tent, covered with double reindeer skins, the polog,
which in winter serves both as the dining and bed room of the family.
The Onkilon catch seals in a kind of net made of leather straps, which
they spread out under the ice, and in which the animal entangles itself
with the head or flippers. When the walrus, which is particularly
abundant about Koliutschin Island, creeps on shore, they steal upon it
unawares, cut off its retreat, and kill it with their spears. Like the
Esquimaux, they use dogs to drag their sledges.
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, with 1568
tents, and 10,000 inhabitants; and Wrangell tells us that the Tennygk
are at least twice as numerous, so that the entire population of the
land of the Tchuktchi may possibly amount to 30,000.
[Illustration: 98. AN ALEUT.]