kibitka of the Kalmucks. One of the better class is thus described: It
was formed of willow trellis-work, put together with untanned strips of
skin, made into compartments which fold up. It represented a circle of
thirty-four feet in diameter, five feet high to the springing of the
dome, and twelve feet in the centre. This dome is formed of bent rods of
willow, an inch and a quarter in diameter, put into the mortice-holes of
a ring about four feet across, which secures the top of the dome, admits
light, and lets out the smoke. The lower ends of the willow rods are
tied with leathern thongs to the top of the trellis-work at the sides,
which renders it quite strong and secure. The whole is then covered with
large sheets of voilock, made of wool and camel’s hair, fitting close, so
that it is both warm and water-tight. The doorway is formed of a small
aperture in the trellis-work, over which hangs a piece of voilock, and
closes it. In the daytime this is rolled up and fastened on the roof of
the yourt.
The reader will not be surprised to learn that the furniture and fittings
of the yourt are remarkable for their simplicity; the Kirghiz having none
of the ingenuity of a Robinson Crusoe or the inventiveness of an American
backwoodsman. The fire is kindled on the ground in the centre of the
yourt. Directly opposite to the door, voilocks are spread; on these
stand sundry boxes containing the clothing of the family, pieces of
Chinese silk, tea, dried fruits, and ambas of silver (small squares,
about two inches and a half long, an inch and a half wide, and
three-tenths of an inch thick). Some of the Kirghiz possess large
quantities of these ambas, which are carefully hoarded up. Above the
boxes are bales of Bokharian and Persian carpets, often of great beauty
and value. In another part of the yourt lies the large sack of koumis,
or mare’s milk, completely covered up with voilock to keep it warm and
promote the fermentation. And near this bag stands a large leathern
bottle, sometimes holding four gallons, and frequently enriched with much
ornament; as are the small bottles which the horseman carries on his
saddle. In another place may be seen the large iron caldron, and the
trivet on which it rests when used for cooking in the yourt. There are
usually half a dozen Chinese wooden bowls, often beautifully painted and
japanned, from which the koumis is drunk; some of them hold three pints,
others are still larger. On entering a Kirghiz yourt in summer, each
guest is presented with one of these Chinese bowls full of koumis. To
return the vessel with any koumis in it is considered impolite, and the
rudeness is one of which a good Kirghiz is assuredly never guilty.
The saddles are deposited on the bales of carpets. As the wealthy
Kirghiz greatly esteem rich horse trappings, many of these are beautiful
and costly. If of Kirghiz workmanship, they are decorated with silver
inlaid on iron, in chaste ornamental designs, and are padded with velvet
cushions; the bridles, and other parts of the equipment, are covered with
small iron plates, similarly inlaid.
Leathern thongs, ropes made of camel’s hair, common saddles,
saddle-cloths, and leathern tchimbar hang suspended from the
trellis-work. The tchimbar, or trousers, however, are not infrequently
made of black velvet, richly embroidered with silk, more especially the
back elevation; and they are so large and loose that a Kirghiz, when he
rides, can tuck into them the laps of his three or four khalats. As he
ties them round his waist with a leathern strap, he presents a most
grotesque appearance with the centre part of his person bulging like a
great globe, out of which the very diminutive head and legs protrude.
The national dress of the Kirghiz is the khalat, a kind of pelisse, very
long and very full, with large sleeves, made of cashmere or silk, and in
the most dazzling colours; but the poorer nomad substitutes for this
state dress a horse-skin jacket. Breeches fastened below the hips by a
girdle of wool or cashmere, high-heeled madder-coloured boots, and a
fox-skin cap, rising into a cone on the top, and lined inside with
crimson cloth, complete his costume. His weapons are the spear, gun, and
axe. The last is a long formidable weapon; the iron head is moderately
heavy and sharp; the handle, about four and a half feet long, is secured
by a leathern thong round the wrist. It is often richly inlaid with
silver. The women wear a high calico head-dress, a part of which falls
over the shoulders and covers up the neck; boots of the same make and
colour as the men’s, and a long and ample khalat, with, sometimes, a
shawl tied round the waist.
The Kirghiz begin to make koumis in April. The mares are milked at five
o’clock in the morning and about the same time in the evening, into large
leathern pails, which are immediately taken to the yourt, and emptied
into the koumis bag. The latter is five to six feet long, with a
leathern tube, about four inches in diameter, at one corner, through
which the milk is poured into the bag, and the koumis drawn out of it. A
wooden instrument, not unlike a churning-staff, is introduced into the
bag, for the purpose of frequently agitating the koumis, which is not
considered in good condition until after the lapse of twelve to fourteen
days. It is drunk in large quantities by such of the Kirghiz as are
wealthy enough to keep up a considerable stud of brood mares; and every
Kirghiz, rich or poor, slings his koumis bottle to his saddle in summer,
and loses no opportunity of replenishing it at the different auls he
visits.
In crossing the steppe, Mr. Atkinson fell in with the aul of Mahomed, a
Kirghiz chief, who was reputed to be very wealthy. Mahomed was a fine
robust man, about sixty years old, stout and square-built, with broad
features, a fine flowing grey beard, a pair of small piercing eyes, and a
fairly pleasant countenance. He wore on his head a closely fitting silk
cap, handsomely embroidered in silver; his dress consisting of a large
robe, or khalat, of pink and yellow striped silk, tied round the waist
with a white shawl. His boots were of reddish-brown leather, small, with
very high heels, causing a real or apparent difficulty in walking. His
wife, much younger than himself, and probably not more than thirty or
thirty-five years of age, had a broad face, high cheek-bones, twinkling
black bead-like eyes, a small nose, a wide mouth; she was neither pretty
nor prepossessing; but decidedly in want of a hot bath. Attired in a
black kaufa (Chinese satin) khalat, with a red shawl round the waist;
reddish-brown high-heeled boots, like her husband’s; she also wore a
rather pointed white muslin cap, the lappets of which, finely wrought on
the edge with red silk, hung down nearly to her hips. This couple were
rich in the world’s goods from a Kirghiz point of view. Not only was
their yourt well stocked with voilocks and carpets, and richly ornamented
weapons, and costly caparisonings, but they owned an amount of live stock
which would astonish the most opulent English farmer. The noise in and
around the aul was deafening. It was a babel of sounds: the sharp cry of
the camels, the neighing of the horses, the bellowing of the bulls, the
bleating of the sheep and goats, and the barking of the dogs, all
combining in one hideous, ear-shattering chorus. Mr. Atkinson counted no
fewer than 106 camels, including their young; besides more than 2000
horses, 1000 oxen and cows, and 6000 sheep and goats. Yet even these
large totals did not represent all the wealth of the Kirghiz chief; for
he had two other auls, and at each were 1000 horses and numerous cattle.
It was a picturesque and interesting sight to see the women busily
milking the cows, and the men conducting the vast herds to their
pastures. The horses and camels are driven to the greatest distance, as
far as ten and fifteen versts; the oxen come next; the sheep remain
nearest the aul, but still at a distance of five or six versts.
While Mr. Atkinson was sojourning in Mahomed’s aul, a night attack was
made upon it. He was aroused, about two hours after midnight, by a
tremendous noise, which to him, sleeping on the ground, seemed as if it
issued from some subterranean hollow. At first he thought it was the
rumbling of an earthquake, and immediately sat upright. But the sound
rolled on, drew nearer and nearer; presently it passed, so that the whole
earth shook. Then he knew that the herd of horses was dashing onward at
full gallop; and when he caught the shrieks of women and the shouts of
men, he understood that an assault had been made upon the aul by robbers.
In a moment he seized his rifle, and sallied forth from the yourt, to
behold the Kirghiz, battle-axe in hand, leap on their horses, and gallop
towards the point of attack. The herds were rushing wildly round the
aul; the Cossacks, with their muskets loaded, were ready for the fray;
all was confusion and disorder. Presently the sound of horses swiftly
approaching could be heard; they came nearer and nearer; in less than two
minutes a dark troop swept past like a whirlwind at twenty paces distant,
making the air ring with loud, defiant shouts. Five bullets whistled
after them; there was a scream from a horse, but on they dashed. The
Kirghiz followed quickly in pursuit, accompanied by two of the Cossacks,
who had rapidly mounted. After riding about a verst they came up with
the robbers, to find they were three times their number, and prepared to
fight for their booty. Against such odds no success could be hoped for,
and accordingly the Kirghiz retired to the aul. When day dawned it was
ascertained that this daring razzia had cost Mahomed a hundred horses.
* * * * *
This was not the only adventure that befell Mr. Atkinson while he made
Mahomed’s aul his headquarters. One day, he was returning from an
excursion to some finely coloured porphyry rocks, when the wind begun to
blow across the steppe in strong and frequent gusts, and his Kirghiz
guides announced that a storm was at hand. Their prediction was
confirmed by the clouds that gathered about the lower peaks of the Altai,
and soon a dense mass of blackness, extending for a long distance from
north to south, rolled rapidly in the direction of the travellers. Not a
tree or a rock offered the slightest shelter. Spurring their horses
briskly, they galloped over the plain, pursued by the storm, as, in
Goethe’s ballad, the father and his doomed child are pursued by the Erl
King. The gusts of wind ceased, and for a short time a deadly calm
prevailed. Meanwhile, the clouds were painfully agitated, as if by some
internal force, and streams of vapour issuing from their blackness
whirled rapidly round. A low murmur stole through the air; gradually it
deepened and strengthened, until, as the storm broke upon the steppe, it
swelled into a roar like that of a thousand cannon. The grasses and low
bushes were rooted up, and sent flying into the air with fearful
velocity. The terrified horses stopped suddenly; nor could they be
induced to move until the whirlwind had passed by. Fortunately the
travellers had not been caught in its vortex, and no serious accident
occurred.
Leaving the hospitable Mahomed, Mr. Atkinson continued his explorations
of the steppe, and rode onward to the next aul, which lay to the
northward, and was reached in two days’ journey. Here, after the usual
entertainment, he found himself free to write up his journal—much to the
astonishment of his companions, the three R’s being unknown in the steppe
to any but the mullahs, or priests, of the various tribes. The
manuscript was a wonder to the children of the wilderness, and they
regarded its owner as a very wealthy mullah, possessed of the priceless
treasure of a book full of amulets. For the mullah sells his amulets, or
charms, at the rate of a sheep for each scrap of paper, which he has
covered with unmeaning characters. Mr. Atkinson’s ring was examined;
also his knife; also a piece of red sealing-wax. On a piece of thick
paper from his sketch-book he took impressions of his seal, and presented
them to the women of the yourt, who doubtlessly long wore them in their
caps as talismans or ornaments of special value and importance. His
watch was likewise an object of curiosity. He held it to the ear of a
woman sitting near him. Evidently she thought it was alive and talking,
for she communicated the fact to her companions, and they all expressed a
wish to hear it speak.
By way of Mount Kamenogorsk, his old quarters, Mr. Atkinson proceeded to
Barnaoul, which he reached on the 1st of November. This town is built at
the junction of the small river Barnaulka with the Ob. The streets are
wide, laid out in parallel lines, and intersected by others at right
angles. There are three ugly brick churches, and one large hospital.
Its silver smelting works are on an extensive scale, producing annually
about nine thousand pounds. Almost all the gold found in Siberia is also
smelted here, and cast into bars; and every year six caravans leave with
the precious metals for St. Petersburg—four in winter by the sledge
roads, and two in summer. Barnaoul is the centre for the administration
of the mines of the Altai, and the residence of the Natchalink, or
director, as well as of the heads of the principal departments.
The public museum at Barnaoul contains a very good collection of
minerals, some Siberian antiquities, a few Siberian animals and birds,
and four tiger-skins. The wearers of these skins were killed in
different parts of Siberia; in two instances their capture proving fatal
to some of the peasants engaged in it, for pea-rifles and hay-forks are
scarcely fit weapons with which to encounter the fiercest of the beasts
of prey. They are seldom found in Siberia; only when driven by hunger do
they cross the Irtisch, and many peasants do not know them even by name.
The last of the Barnaoul company, now reposing peacefully in a glass
case, was discovered, early one morning, prone on the top of a small
hay-rick, near the village. The peasant, who had come for some hay for
his horses, beheld with surprise and terror the strange and formidable
creature, and shrank from his glaring eyeballs, which seemed to sparkle
with fire. At the same moment the peasant’s dog caught sight of him,
and, with a loud bark, bravely dashed towards the rick. Growling
terribly, the tiger sprung to the ground. The dog met him intrepidly,—to
be crushed in a moment beneath his heavy paw. Hastening towards the
village, the man gave the alarm, and quickly returned with a valiant
company; some armed with pea-rifles, others with hay-forks and axes.
Several dogs followed them. On approaching the rick, they were apprised
of the enemy’s position by a furious growl. The dogs made a brilliant
charge; but the tiger crouched sullenly, and did not spring. A small
shot through his hide roused him, and at a bound he was in among the
dogs, killing a couple of them instantly with his terrible paws, and
scattering the rest in ignominious flight. He received two more balls,
but they served only to inflame his fury, and leaping in among his
assailants, he felled one of them to the ground, dead. Again the dogs
charged him, while the peasants with their hay-forks stabbed him in the
back and sides. At last he withdrew slowly towards a bank covered with
brushwood, followed by the dogs and their masters; but on reaching the
bank he halted, faced round, growled angrily, and prepared for another
spring. His enemies halted, and poured in shot upon him; the dogs barked
furiously; but he held his ground, and could not be induced to move.
After a while, encouraged by his inaction, the dogs began to close in
upon him, and finally it was discovered that a ball had pierced him in a
vital part, and the beast was dead.
The river Ob, which flows past Barnaoul, is described as a magnificent
stream, running in a valley twelve versts broad; its numerous small
branches divide this valley into islands, on which large trees are
growing. In May the melting of the snow swells the stream into a great
flood, which inundates much of the valley, and gradually widens from one
bank to the other, with the tops of the trees rising above the swirl of
waters like islands. At this time many of the scenes along the Ob are
very grand, especially if seen at sunrise or sunset, when the various
colouring of the luminous sky is mirrored in the mighty stream, which,
flashing with golden and crimson lights, rolls through the deep purple
masses of the forest, to terminate its course in the Arctic Ocean.
The neighbourhood seems to be an attractive one for the sportsman; snipe
abound in June and July, blackcock in August, and rebchicks, or tree
partridges, in September. Wild hen are also plentiful, and in winter,
hares. Or if the hunter care for more venturous sport, he may sally out
against the wolves and bears.
The bears are dangerous antagonists. A very large one was seen by some
woodcutters about fifteen versts from the gold mine; and two men, one of
whom was known as a bold, skilful, and veteran hunter, started in
pursuit. They found the beast’s track quite fresh in the long dewy
grass, and cautiously followed it up, until a low growl warned them of
his presence. He sprang out of a thicket, about thirty-five paces
distant, and confronted his pursuers. The hunter fired, and his shot
told, but not in a vital part. The wounded animal charged immediately,
the other man reserving his shot until he was within twenty paces. Then,
unfortunately, his rifle missed fire. The bear at once stood on his hind
legs, and sprang forward against his first assailant, striking him to the
earth with a blow that stripped his scalp and turned it over his face;
then, seizing his arm, he began to gnaw and crush it to the bone,
gradually ascending to the shoulder. The sufferer called to his
companion to load and fire; but, losing heart when he saw his friend so
terribly mangled, the craven took to flight.
Returning to the gold mine, he related what had happened; but it was then
too late to despatch a party in search of the unfortunate hunter. At
daylight next morning, however, they set out, with the craven as guide.
On arriving at the scene of the affray, no remains of the victim could be
found but some torn clothing and his rifle; and the trampled grass showed
that he had been carried off into the thick covert. The trail was
pursued with the utmost diligence, and at length, under a heap of
branches, in a dense thicket of trees and bushes, the hunter’s body was
discovered, and, strange to say, though grievously mutilated, it still
throbbed with life. With tender care the miserable victim was conveyed
to the gold mine and taken to the hospital, where he was treated with the
utmost kindness, and all was done that medical skill could do. For a
long time he remained unconscious; but at the end of two months a slight
improvement was noticeable, and he recovered his reason. His first
question was about the bear; his next, about his own defeat. In truth,
his conversation turned only upon these subjects: he seemed possessed by
a monomania; was continually asking for his rifle, that he might go and
kill “Michael Ivanitch” (the bear). As his strength returned, it was
thought necessary to place him under restraint, lest his desire to
contend with his fierce and powerful enemy should lead him into some
dangerous enterprise.
But when autumn arrived, and laid its magical finger on the forest, the
monomaniac seemed to have forgotten his hate, so that he was watched with
less rigour. He took advantage of his comparative freedom to steal from
the hospital, gain his own cottage, and, in the absence of his family,
arm himself with his rifle and axe, and stow away in his wallet a loaf of
black bread. Then, as the shades of evening began to fall, he started
for the forest, and soon disappeared in the gathering gloom.
As soon as his absence from the hospital was known, a close search for
him was instituted; but in vain. A week passed by, and it was supposed
that he had perished, when one day he strode into the hospital, carrying
on his shoulders the skin of a huge black bear. Throwing it down, he
exclaimed, “I told you I would have him.” Thenceforward he rapidly
recovered; both his physical and mental health were re-established, and
he lived to bring down many another “Michael Ivanitch” with his deadly
rifle.
* * * * *
A curious incident befell a Cossack officer in the woods of Barnaoul.
Alone and unarmed, he was sauntering through the forest glades, gathering
specimen plants, when, at a distance of about eight versts from the gold
mine, he emerged into an open space, where stood a few isolated trees;
and the same moment he descried, not more than two hundred yards off, a
she-bear and her two cubs gambolling together. She, too, recognized his
presence; and, with a fierce growl, drove her young ones into a tree as
an asylum, and, resolute to defend them, mounted guard at its foot.
To carry off the cubs as trophies was the Cossack’s resolve, but he
wanted a weapon. Retiring into the wood a few steps, he came to a place
where the woodmen had felled several young birch trees, and from one of
these he selected four feet of a stout, strong, but manageable stem, with
which he returned to the scene of action. At his approach the old bear
resumed her growling, and moved uneasily to and fro in front of the tree,
but carefully keeping within a few feet of it. He continued his advance.
She growled more savagely, and plainly suspected his hostile intentions.
Still he moved forward, with his eyes steadfastly fixed upon her. When
he was within about fifty paces, she made a fierce rush that would have
put most men to flight. He held his ground, and as the cubs began to
whine, she trotted back towards the tree, in a mood of uncontrolled rage.
The Cossack followed; she turned; the two antagonists stood face to face
at a distance of twenty yards.
Retreat was now impossible; and there they stood, gazing keenly on each
other, and each waiting for an opportunity to attack. The bear, with
fiery eyeballs, made a second rush, and at a few paces from her daring
enemy, rose on her hind legs, either to fell him with her heavy paws or
crush him in her cruel embrace; but, with wonderful coolness, he brought
down his club and toppled her over. In a second she sprang to her feet,
and prepared to renew the charge; another tremendous stroke laid her on
the ground. The combat assumed a desperate and deadly character, and
several “rounds” were determinedly fought. Eventually, the Cossack’s
well-directed blows subdued her courage, and when she could neither
charge him in front nor get in his rear, she fell back towards the tree,
still fighting desperately. Under the tree a fresh spirit was infused
into the affray, and every time she heard her cubs whine, she returned
with increased fury to the assault. She was received, however, with such
a shower of blows, that, at last dispirited and exhausted, she retreated
hastily towards the forest, and entered its shades; contriving,
nevertheless, whenever the gallant Cossack moved towards the refuge of
her cubs, to make a rush in that direction.
All this time the cubs remained perched among the branches, and the
officer, considering himself victorious, longed to take possession of his
prize. But he could devise no plan of getting at them, and it was
evident they would not come down at his call. Luckily, a woodman, on his
way to the gold mine, rode into the arena. The Cossack hailed him;
ordered him to dismount, to take from his saddle the zumka, or leather
saddle-bags, and, climbing the tree, to thrust the cubs into them, while
he himself kept watch over the mother bear. This was done, though not
without several sharp encounters between the she-bear and the officer;
and, finally, the peasant threw his heavy bags across his horse, and led
the way to the ravine, the Cossack covering the rear. In this fashion
they marched into Barnaoul; first, the woodman and his horse, next the
Cossack officer, and behind him the bear. The march occupied two hours,
and the unfortunate mother persevered to the very last, not abandoning
her young ones until their captor had reached the cottages. Then she
hastily returned into the forest, and was seen no more.
III.