The size of these houses varies according to the wealth of the proprietor, and the number of his family. Beams, placed by the side of one another, and plastered with clay, form the walls, which are not like ours, perpendicular. Inclining towards the top, they support a roof, the slope of which is very inconsiderable: in some yourts the roof is supported by posts. The house has but one door, and is divided, as I have already observed, into two apartments. The cleanest is inhabited by the family, who sleep in distinct huts, distributed at equal distances against the walls, and which I can compare to nothing better than the small cabins in Dutch ships: every couple have a hut to themselves. The other part of the yourt is for the cattle, and is nothing more than a stable. In the center of the building is a round chimney made of wood, and guarded from accidents by a thick clay covering. When they light a fire, the wood is placed perpendicularly. Cross beams are occasionally placed in the chimney, upon which they hang their kettles, and these are repeated, in proportion to the number of vessels they have to boil.
In one corner of the yourt a leathern trough is fixed, and mare’s milk every day put into it, and stirred with a stick, similar to what is made use of in churning butter. Every person who enters, the women particularly, before they attend to any other business, stir the milk a few minutes; it is by this means they procure that sourish, but at the same time pleasant beverage, called koumouiss. If allowed to ferment, it becomes a very potent liquor.
My host spoke the Russian language tolerably well[78]; I embraced the opportunity of drawing from him some information respecting the customs, manners, and religion of his countrymen, which I shall insert in this place, together with some notes that I had before made on these subjects.
When summer commences, they leave their winter habitations, and with their families, and a small number of horses, go to make their harvests of fodder for consumption during the frost season. They repair to a considerable distance from their yourt, and to the most fertile cantons. In their absence, the horses are left to the care of the servants, and the neighbouring pastures serve for the maintenance of all their herds.
I very much regret the not having been present at their festival in the month of May, in celebration of the return of spring. They assemble in the open country, where they roast oxen and horses; and being supplied with an abundance of fermented koumouiss, they eat and drink to satiety, dancing and singing at intervals, and concluding at last with necromancies. Their chamans preside in these festivals, and deal out their extravagant predictions.
These sorcerers are more at liberty and more revered than in Kamtschatka. Regarded as interpreters of the gods, they grant their mediation to the stupid Yakout, who implores it with trembling, but always pays for it. I have seen these dupes give their finest horse to conduct a chaman to his village. Nothing can be more frightful than the magic exhibitions of these impostors. As I knew nothing of them but from report, I was desirous of being present. I was astonished at the veracity of the account that had been given me: as I have already accurately related it[79], I shall content myself with describing the chaman that exhibited before me.
Dressed in a habit that was ornamented with bells and plates of iron, which made a deafening noise, he beat besides on a bouben, or tabor, with a degree of force that was terrifying. He then ran about like a maniac, with his mouth open, and his head turned in every direction. His black deshevelled hair[80] concealed his face, and beneath it proceeded at one moment real groans, the next tears and sobs, and then loud peals of laughter, the usual preludes of these revelations.
In the idolatry of the Yakouts, we find all the absurdities and superstitious practices of the ancient Kamtschadales, Koriacs, Tchouktchis, and other inhabitants of these countries. They have however some more solid principles; and amidst the ridiculous fictions under which they are buried, we meet with ideas ingenious enough respecting the supreme being, miracles, and future rewards and punishments.
But I was chiefly struck with the vivacity and singularity of their turn of mind. They delight in the fables drawn from their absurd mythology, and they relate them with all the confidence of credulity itself. By comparing them with our own, one is tempted no longer to hold in such esteem our ancient and modern fabulists, when we see this species of composition cultivated by such rivals. The two following fables were translated for me by Golikoff, word for word.
There arose one day in a large lake, a violent contest between the different species of fish. The question was the establishment of a tribunal of supreme judges, whose business it should be to govern the whole finny tribe. The herring, and most diminutive fish, conceived that they had as much right to the prerogative as the salmon. From one thing to another the dispute became so warm that the small fish united in a body against the large, who took advantage of their weakness to insult and persecute them. Hence intestine and bloody wars that end in the destruction of one of the two parties. The vanquished, who escaped from being killed, fled to the small canals, and left the large fish, who had the victory, masters of the lake. Such is the law of the strongest.