Part 7

But it is still less unpleasant than the noisome odour exhaled from a dismal lamp, that serves as a light to the whole house. Its form is not of the most elegant kind: it is simply a hollow pebble or stone, with a rag rolled up in the middle for a wick, round which is placed the grease of the sea wolf, or other animals. As soon as the wick is lighted, we are immediately surrounded with a dark and thick vapour, which contributes equally with the smoke to blacken the whole room: it seises the nose and throat, and penetrates to the very heart. This is not the only disagreeable smell that is experienced in these habitations; there is another, in my opinion, much more fetid, and which I never could endure; it is the nauseous exhalation from the dried and stinking fish, when it is preparing, when they are eating it, and even after it is eaten. The refuse is destined for the dogs; but before the poor animals get it, every corner of the room has been swept with it.

The persons who inhabit these dwellings exhibit a spectacle equally disgusting. Here is a group of women, shining from the fat with which they smear themselves, and wallowing on the ground amidst a heap of rags; some of them suckling their children, who are half naked, and bedaubed with filth from head to foot; others devouring with them some scraps of fish perfectly raw, and frequently putrid. There we see others in a dishabille that is not less filthy, lying upon bear's skins, chattering to one another, and frequently altogether, and employed in various domestic occupations, in expectation of their husbands.

Fortunately the houses of the toyons were cleaned as well as possible for the reception of M. Kasloff, who had always the kindness to let me lodge with him.

We slept at Pouschiné in the house of the toyon, and departed very early the next morning; we only travelled this day thirty four wersts. It seemed that the farther we advanced, the more the roads were obstructed with the snow. My two conductors were continually employed in keeping my sledge upright, to prevent it from overturning, or going out of the road; they were obliged also to exert their lungs to encourage the dogs, who frequently stopped, notwithstanding the blows that were bestowed upon them with equal profusion and address. These poor creatures, whose strength is inconceivable, had all the difficulty in the world to disengage themselves from the snow, which covered them as fast as they shook it off. It was frequently necessary to smooth it before them, to enable them to extricate the sledge. This also was the office of my guides. To support themselves upon the snow, they each fastened a racket to one of their feet, and in this manner they slid along, resting now and then their other foot upon the skate of the sledge. I doubt whether any exercise can be more fatiguing, or require greater strength and skill.

The ostrog of Charom, at which we had the good fortune to arrive, is situated upon the Kamtschatka: it furnished me with no remarks. We passed part of the night there, and left it before day.

In seven hours we reached Vercknei-Kamtschatka, which is thirty-five wersts from Charom. Vercknei is a very considerable place, compared with the ostrogs I had hitherto seen. I counted more than a hundred houses. Its situation is commodious, and the prospect round it tolerably various, Besides bordering upon the river[67], it has the farther advantage of being near to woods and fields, the soil of which is good, and begins to be cultivated by the inhabitants. The church is built of wood; its architecture is not disagreeable, and it is only to be wished that the inside corresponded with the external appearance. The inhabitants differ in no respect from those of the other villages. For the first time I saw at this place a species of buildings, about the height of a balagan, that serve no other purpose than to dry fish. A serjeant had the command at Vercknei, who lives in a house belonging to the crown.

This village is also the place of residence of the unfortunate Ivaschin, whose history I related upon my leaving Saint Peter and Saint Pauls[68]; he was of our party, and had only quitted us in order to arrive sooner at Vercknei, where his first care had been to kill one of his oxen, which he entreated us to accept for our journey, as a testimony of his gratitude. This proceeding justified the concern I felt for him, whose aspect alone made me more than once shudder at the idea of his misfortunes. I cannot easily conceive how he was able to support them, and reconcile himself to his fate: it must have been the consciousness of his innocence alone, that could have given him such strength of mind. We paid him a visit upon our arrival. He was drinking merrily with some of his neighbours. His joy was sincere, and gave us no intimation of a man sensible of his past sufferings, or weary of his present situation.

Our stay at Vercknei was short; we set out after dinner in order to sleep at Milkovaïa-Derevna, otherwise called the village of Milkoff, which was at the distance of fifteen wersts. In our way we passed a tolerably large field inclosed with pallisades, and farther on a _zaimka_, that is, a hamlet inhabited by labourers. These labourers were Cossacs, or Russian soldiers, employed in the cultivation of land on government account. They had eighty horses belonging to the crown, and which equally answer the purposes of industry, and of the stud established in this place for the propagation of animals so useful and so scarce in the peninsula. About five hundred yards from this hamlet, which is called Ischigatchi, upon an arm of the Kamtschatka, is a water mill built of wood, but not very large. No use could at present be made of it. The swell of water had been so great as to overflow the sluice, and to spread itself over a part of the plain where it was frozen. The soil appeared to be good, and the country round it to be very pleasant. I questioned the Cossacs upon the productions of their canton, where I conceived every species of corn might be cultivated with success. They told me that their last harvest had, both in quantity and quality, surpassed their hopes, and was not inferior to the finest harvests in Russia: two pouds of corn had produced ten.

Arrived at Milkoff, I was astonished no longer to see either Kamtschadales or Cossacs, but an interesting colony of peasants whose features and address told me they were not a mixed breed. This colony was selected in 1743, partly in Russia and partly in Siberia, among the primitive inhabitants, that is, among the husbandmen. The view of administration, in sending them into this country was, that they might clear the land and make experiments in agriculture; hoping that their example and success would instruct and encourage the indigenes, and induce them to employ their labours in this advantageous and necessary art. Unfortunately their extreme indolence, which I have already described, little corresponded with the wise intentions of government; and so far are they from pretending to any rivalship, that they have never derived the smallest advantage from the examples that are before their eyes. This extreme sluggishness of the natives is the more painful to an observer, as he cannot but admire the industry of these active emigrants, whose labours have been attended with such beneficial effects. Their habitations, situated upon the Kamtschatka, seem to shew that they live at their ease. Their cattle thrive well from the great care they take of them. I observed also that these peasants had in general very much the air of being contented with their situation. Their labour is profitable, and not excessive. Every man plows and sows his field, and having only his capitation to pay, he reaps abundantly the fruit of his exertions, which a fertile soil repays him with usury. I am convinced that greater advantages might be derived from this source, if the cultivators were more numerous. The harvest consists chiefly of rye, and a very small quantity of barley. This colony has nothing to do with the chace. Government extended its cares so far as to prohibit it, that their labours might be wholly devoted to agriculture, and that nothing might divert their attention. The prohibition however, I could perceive, is not very scrupulously observed. Their chief is a _staroste_, appointed by administration, and selected from the old men of the village, as the name implies. His business is to inspect the progress of agriculture; to preside over their feed time and their harvest, to fix the precise period when they are to take place; in short, to stimulate the negligence, or encourage the zeal of the labourers, and particularly to maintain the spirit of the establishment and a good understanding among them.

Being desirous of going to Machoure, to spend a day with the baron de Steinheil, I left M. Kasloff at Milkoff, and set out twenty four hours before him, that I might occasion no delay in his journey. To travel with the greater expedition I made use of a small sledge. The roads were no better or less obstructed with snow than what we had before experienced, and I was therefore unable to make the speed I intended, notwithstanding my precaution. The first village I came to was Kirgan. Before I reached it, I passed a number of houses and balagans that appeared to be deserted, but I was informed that the summer regularly brought back every year their proprietors. The few habitations which compose the ostrog of Kirgan, are built upon the border of a river called Kirganik, which is formed by a variety of streams that issue from then neighbouring mountains, and unite above the ostrog, fifteen wersts from Milkoff.

The cold was so severe, that notwithstanding the precaution I took of covering my face with a handkerchief, my cheeks were frozen in less than half an hour. I had recourse to the usual remedy, that of rubbing my face with snow, and was relieved at the expence of an acute pain that continued for several days. Though my face was thus frozen, the rest of my body experienced the contrary effect. I conducted my own sledge; and the continual motion which this exercise requires, added to the weight of my Kamtschadale dress, threw me into a violent perspiration, and fatigued me extremely.

My dress merits a particular description; by which it will be seen that it gave me no very alert appearance. Commonly I wore merely a simple parque of deers skin, and a fur cap, which upon occasion would cover my ears and part of my cheeks. When the cold was more piercing, I added to my dress two _kouklanki_, a kind of parque that was larger and made of thicker skin; one of them had the hair on the inside, and the other on the outside. In the severest weather, I put on over all this, another kouklanki, still thicker, made of argali, or dogs skin, the hairy side of which is always undermost, and the leather or external surface of the skin painted red. To these kouklankis a small bib is fixed before, so as to guard the face against the wind: they have also hoods behind, which fall upon the shoulders. Sometimes these three hoods, one upon another, composed my head dress, by being drawn over my common cap. My neck was defended by a cravat called ocheinik, made of sable, or the tail of a fox, and my chin with a chin-cloth made in like manner of sable, and fastened upon my head. As the forehead is very susceptible of cold, it was covered with an otter or sable fillet, and this was covered again by my cap. My fur breeches gave me more warmth than all the rest of my dress, complicated as it was. I had double deer-skin spatterdashes, with hair on both sides, and which are called in Kamtschatka _tchigi_. I then put my legs into boots made of deers skins, the feet having an interior sole of _tounchitcha_, a very soft grass, which has the quality of preserving heat, Notwithstanding these precautions, my feet, after travelling two or three hours, were very wet, either from perspiration or the gradual penetration of the snow; and if I stood still for a moment in my sledge, they be came immediately frozen. At night I took off these spatterdashes, and put on a large pair of fur stockings made of deer or argali skin, and called _ounti_.

Notwithstanding my fatigue, I made no stop at Kirgan. A few wersts farther on, I perceived a volcano to the north, which emitted no flame, but a column of very thick smoke ascended from it. I shall have occasion to return this way, and will then speak of it more at large. I observed near Machoure a wood of firs, tolerably bushy, and which was the first I had seen in Kamtschatka. The trees were strait, but very slender. At two o'clock in the afternoon I entered the village of Machoure, which is upon the Kamtschatka, and thirty-seven wersts from Kirgan.

I alighted at the baron Stenheil's, formerly _capitan ispravnick_, or inspector of Kamtschatka, an office afterwards conferred on M. Schmaleff. Our acquaintance had commenced at Bolcheretsk. I was delighted to be able to converse with him in several languages, particularly that of my own country, though it was not very familiar to him; but it was French, and I conceived him to be my countryman. Whoever has quitted Europe to travel in so distant a part of the world must have had similar feelings. We consider every man as a fellow-citizen who belongs to the same continent, or speaks the same language. The most trivial circumstance that reminds us of our country, is productive of a very sensible pleasure; the heart is eagerly drawn towards the friend, the brother, whom we conceive we have found, and feels an instant desire to repose in him all its confidence. The sight of M. Steinheil imparted to me this delicious sensation. There was in his conversation, from the very first moment, an irresistible attraction. I felt a sort of craving to see him, to talk with him; it had the effect of a charm, though his French, as I have said, was not the most pure, and was pronounced with the German accent. I spent the day of 4 February with the baron, and in the evening M. Kasloff arrived as he had previously informed me.

The ostrog of Machoure, before the introduction of the small-pox, was one of the most considerable in the peninsula; but the ravages of this cruel disease, have reduced the number of inhabitants to twenty families.

All the Kamtschadales of this village, men and women, are chamans, or believers in the witchcraft of these pretended sorcerers. They dread to an excess the popes or Russian priests, for whom they entertain the most inveterate hatred. They do all they can to avoid meeting them. This is sometimes impossible, and in that case, when they find them at hand they act the hypocrite, and make their escape the first opportunity that offers. I attribute this fear to the ardent zeal which these priests have doubtless shown for the extirpation of idolatry, and which the Kamtschadales consider as persecution. They accordingly look upon them as their greatest enemies. Perhaps they have reason to believe, that in wishing to convert them, the overthrow of their idols was not the only thing these missionaries had in view. These popes probably set them no example of the virtues upon which they declaim. It is suspected that their object is the acquisition of wealth, rather than of proselytes, and the gratification of their inordinate propensity to drunkenness. It is not therefore to be wondered at that the inhabitants retain their ancient errors. They pay a secret homage to their god _Koutka_[69], and place in him so entire a confidence, that they address their prayers exclusively to him when they are desirous of obtaining any boon, or of engaging in any enterprise. When they go to the chace, they abstain from washing themselves, and are careful not to make the sign of the cross: they invoke their Koutka, and the first animal they catch is immediately sacrificed to him. After this act of devotion they conceive that their chace will be successful; on the contrary, if they were to cross themselves, they would despair of catching any thing. It is also a part of their superstition to consecrate to Koutka their new-born children, who, the moment they have left their cradle, are destined to become chamans. The veneration of the inhabitants of this village for sorcerers can scarcely be conceived; it approaches to insanity, and is really to be pitied; for the extravagant and wild absurdities by which these magicians keep alive the credulity of their compatriots, excites our indignation rather than our laughter. At present they do not profess their art openly, or give the same splendour they once did to their necromancy. They no longer decorate their garments with mystic rings and other symbolic figures of metal, that jingled together upon the slightest motion of their body. In like manner they have abandoned the kind of kettle[70], which they used to strike with a sort of musical intonation in their pretended enchantments, and with which they announced their approach. In short, they have forsaken all their magic instruments. The following are the ceremonies they observe in their assemblies, which they are careful to hold in secret, though not the less frequently on that account. Conceive of a circle of spectators, stupidly rapt in attention and ranged round the magician, male or female, for as I have before observed, the women are equally initiated into the mysteries. All at once he begins to sing, or to utter shrill sounds without either measure or signification. The docile assembly strike in with him, and the concert becomes a medley of harsh and insupportable discords. By degrees the chaman is warmed, and he begins to dance to the confused accents of his auditory, who become hoarse and exhausted from the violence of their exertions. As the prophetic spirit is excited in the minister of their Koutka, the animation of the dance increases. Like the Pythian on the tripos, he rolls his ghastly and haggard eyes; all his motions are convulsive; his mouth is drawn awry, his limbs stiffened, and every distortion and grimace is put in practice by him, to the great admiration of his disciples. Having acted these buffooneries for some time, he suddenly stops, as if inspired, and becomes now as composed as he was before agitated. It is the sacred collectedness of a man full of the god that governs him, and who is about to speak by his voice. Surprised and trembling, the assembly is instantly mute, in expectation of the marvels that are to be revealed. The self-created prophet then utters at different intervals, broken sentences, words without meaning, and what ever nonsense comes into the head of the impostor; and this is invariably considered as the effect of inspiration. His jargon is accompanied either with a torrent of tears or loud bursts of laughter, according to the complexion of the tidings he has to announce; and the expression and gesture of the orator vary in conformity to his feelings. I was furnished with this account by persons entitled to credit, and who had contrived to be present at these absurd revelations.

There seems to be some analogy between these chamans, and the sect called quakers. The quakers pretend equally to inspiration, and there are individuals among them, who, guided by its supposed impulse, hold forth in their silent meetings, and break out in piteous lamentations, or sudden starts of extravagant joy. The difference is this: these prompt orators harangue extempore upon the subject of morality, whose fundamental principles they endeavour to recommend; whereas the Kamtschadale declaimers understand not a word of what they utter, and only make use of their mysterious and hypocritical jargon to increase the idolatry of their stupid admirers.

At Machoure the intelligence which M. Kasloff had before received from Bogenoff, an engineer, was confirmed. He had been sent along the river Pengina to fix upon a situation for a town, and trace the plan of it, with directions to proceed afterwards by the western coast of Kamtschatka as far as Tiguil, and make an exact map of the country as he passed. On his arrival at Kaminoi[71], he told M. Kasloff that he had met a considerable number of revolted Koriacs, who came out to intercept his passage, and prevent him from executing his mission. It was now added to the account, that they amounted to a body of six hundred men, and that we should not probably be permitted to advance. This was melancholy news, for me particularly, who longed to arrive at Okotsk, as if it had been the end of my journey, or as if I could thence reach France in a single day. How distressing the thought, that there was no other way but through this village, and that I should perhaps be obliged to turn back! My impatience made me shudder at the very idea. M. Kasloff participated my feelings, and was of opinion with me that the report ought not to stop us. It might not be accurate; the narrators might have given it an air of importance, to which it was not entitled; their fears might have magnified it; and each perhaps had made some addition to the story. These considerations led us to doubt, and we resolved to satisfy ourselves in person of its truth, thinking it time enough to have recourse to expedients if the rebels were actually to oppose our passage. We were presently encouraged by the arrival of an express to M. Kasloff, who had met with no interruption, and who assured us that every thing had the appearance of perfect tranquillity.

At break of day I took leave of the baron de Steinheil, with equal regret and gratitude for his kind reception, and the attentions he had paid me during my short visit. His information and accomplishments rendered him a truly interesting character[72].

We travelled this day sixty-six wersts upon the Kamtschatka, the ice of which was very firm and perfectly smooth. I saw nothing remarkable in my way, nor in the village of Chapina, where we arrived at sun-set.

We set off early the next morning, and found the snow very troublesome. It was so thick upon the ground, that we were scarcely able to go on. We journeyed all the day though very thick woods of fir and birch trees. About half-way, and again farther on, we met two rivers, one of which was very small, and the other sixty yards wide; it is called the great Nikoulka. They are both formed by streams issuing from the mountains, and uniting at this place to pay their tribute together to the Kamtschatka. Neither of them was frozen, which I ascribed to the extreme rapidity of their current. The spot where we passed them was truly picturesque; but the most singular object was the numerous firs that skirted these rivers, and which seemed like so many trees of ice. A thick hoar-frost, occasioned perhaps by the dampness of the place, covered every branch, and gave to the whole a bright and chrystalline appearance.