The village of Ness, on the north coast, was the first halting-place, and here Castrén flattered himself he had at length found what his heart desired, in the person of a Samoïede teacher who knew Russian, and was gifted with a clearer head than is usually possessed by his race.
“The man was conscious of his superiority, and while acting as a professor looked down with contempt upon his weaker brethren. Once, some other Samoïedes venturing to correct one of his translations, he commanded them to be silent, telling them they were not learned. I tried by all possible means to secure the services of this Samoïede phenomenon. I spoke kindly with him, I paid him well, gave him every day his allowance of brandy, and never once forbade him to get drunk when he felt inclined to do so. Yet, in spite of all my endeavors to please, he felt unhappy, and sighed for the liberty of the tundra. ‘Thou art kind, and I love thee,’ said he one day to me, ‘but I can not endure confinement. Be therefore merciful, and give me my freedom.’
“I now increased his daily pay and his rations of brandy, sent for his wife and child, treated his wife also with brandy, and did all I could to dispel the melancholy of the Samoïede. By these means I induced him to remain a few days longer with me.
“While I was constantly occupying him, the wife was busy sewing Samoïede dresses, and sometimes assisted her husband in his translations. I often heard her sighing deeply, and having asked for the reason, she burst into tears, and answered that she grieved for her husband, who was thus imprisoned in a room. ‘Thy husband,’ was my reply, ‘is not worse off than thyself. Tell me, what do you think of your own position?’ ‘I do not think of myself—I am sorrowful for my husband,’ was her ingenuous reply. At length both the husband and the wife begged me so earnestly to set them at liberty that I allowed them to depart.”
On the way from Pjoscha to Pustosersk, after Castrén had once more vainly endeavored to discover that rara avis, a Samoïede teacher, he became thoroughly acquainted with the January snow-storms of the tundra: “The wind arose about noon, and blew so violently that we could not see the reindeer before our sledges. The roof of my vehicle, which at first had afforded me some protection, was soon carried away by the gale. Anxious about my fate, I questioned my guides, whenever they stopped to brush off the snow which had accumulated upon me, and received the invariable answer, ‘We do not know where we are, and see nothing.’ We proceeded step by step, now following one direction, now another, until at length we reached a river well known to the guides. The leader of the first sledge hurried his reindeer down the precipitous bank, and drove away upon the ice to seek a more convenient descent; but as he did not return, the other guide likewise left me to look after his companion, and thus I was kept waiting for several hours on the tundra, without knowing where my guides had gone to.
“At first I did not even know that they had left me, and when I became aware of the fact, I thought that they had abandoned me to my fate. I will not attempt to describe my sensations; but my bodily condition was such, that when the cold increased with the approach of night, I was seized with a violent fever. I thought my last hour was come, and prepared for my journey to another world.”
The re-appearance of the guides relieved Castrén of his anxiety, and when the little party reached some Samoïede huts, the eldest of the guides knelt down at the side of our traveller’s sledge and expressed his joy in a prayer to God, begging Castrén to join him in his thanksgivings, “for He, and not I, has this night saved thee.”
The next morning, as the weather seemed to improve, and the road (along the Indiga River) to the next Russian settlement was easy to find, Castrén resolved to pursue his journey. “But the storm once more arose, and became so dreadfully violent that I could neither breathe nor keep my eyes open against the wind. The roaring of the gale stupefied my senses. The moist snow wetted me during the day, and the night converted it into ice. Half frozen, I arrived after midnight at the settlement. The fatigues of the journey had been such that I could scarcely stand; I had almost lost my consciousness, and my sight had suffered so much from the wind that I repeatedly ran with my forehead against the wall. The roaring of the storm continually resounded in my ears for many hours after.”
A few days later Castrén arrived at Pustosersk, undoubtedly one of the dreariest places in the world. With scarcely a trace of arboreal vegetation, the eye, during the greater part of the year, rests on an interminable waste of snow, where the cold winds are almost perpetually raging. The storms are so violent as not seldom to carry away the roofs of the huts, and to prevent the wretched inhabitants from fetching water and fuel. In this Northern Eden our indefatigable ethnologist tarried several months, as it afforded him an excellent opportunity for continuing his studies of the language, manners, and religion of the Samoïedes, who come to the fair of Pustosersk during the winter, to barter their reindeer skins for flour and other commodities, and at the same time to indulge in their favorite beverage—brandy. At length the Samoïedes retired, the busy season of the place was evidently at an end, and Castrén, having no further inducement to remain at Pustosersk, left it for the village of Ustsylmsk, situated 150 versts higher up the Petschora, where he hoped still to find some straggling Samoïedes. The road to Ustsylmsk leads through so desolate a region, that, according to the priests of the neighborhood, it can not have been originally created by God with the rest of the world, but must have been formed after the Deluge. Near Ustsylmsk (65° 30´ N. lat.) the country improves, as most of the northern trees grow about the place; but, unfortunately, a similar praise can not be awarded to its inhabitants, whom Castrén found to be the most brutal and obstinate Raskolniks (or sectarians) he had ever seen. Without in the least caring for the Ten Commandments, and indulging in every vice, these absurd fanatics fancied themselves better than the rest of mankind, because they made the sign of the cross with the thumb and the two last fingers, and stood for hours together before an image in stupid contemplation. Our homeless traveller soon became the object of their persecutions; they called him “wizard,” “a poisoner of rivers and wells,” and insulted him during his walks. At length they even attempted to take his life, so that he thought best to retreat to Ishemsk, on the Ishma, a hundred versts farther to the south. But, unfortunately, his bad reputation had preceded him, and although the Isprawnik (or parish official) and his wife warmly took his part, the people continued to regard him with suspicion.
Towards the end of June Castrén ascended the Petschora and its chief tributary, the Uusa, as far as the village of Kolwa, where he spent the remainder of the summer, deeply buried as usual in Samoïede studies. Beyond Kolwa, which he left on September 16 for Obdorsk, there is not a single settlement along the Uusa and its tributaries.