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 Aninj, in 68° N. lat.
From the East Cape of Asia, where, crossing Behring’s Strait in boats covered with skins, they barter furs and walrus teeth with the natives of America, the Tchuktchi come with their goods and tents drawn on sledges to the fair of Ostrownoje. One of these 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.
But Ostrownoje attracts not only Tchuktchi and Russians; a great number of the Siberian tribes, from a vast circuit of 1,000 or 1,500 versts,—Jukahiri, Lamutes, Tungusi, Tschuwanzi, Koriacks,—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.
The imperturbable gravity of the Tchuktch forms a remarkable contrast with the greedy eagerness of the Russian trader. Although the Tchuktchi 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 pound. 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 ‘wamet,’ consisting of tanned reindeer skins supported on a slender framework. 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 ‘wamet.’ 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 cannot 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.”
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. They do not indulge in any needless cruelty, but stupefy the aged victim, by putting some substance up the nostrils before opening a vein. 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.
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 (or stationary Tchuktchi), with 1,568 tents, and 10,000 inhabitants, and Wrangell tells us that the Tennygk (or Reindeer Tchuktchi), are at least twice as numerous, so that the entire population of the land of the Tchuktchi may possibly amount to 30,000.