Their Barbarism.—Num, or Jilibeambaertje.—Shamanism.—Samoïede Idols.—Sjadæi.—Hahe.—The Tadebtsios, or Spirits.—The Tadibes, or Sorcerers.—Their Dress.—Their Invocations.—Their conjuring Tricks.—Reverence paid to the Dead.—A Samoïede Oath.—Appearance of the Samoïedes.—Their Dress.—A Samoïede Belle.—Character of the Samoïedes.—Their decreasing Numbers.—Traditions of ancient Heroes.
The Samoïedes, the neighbors of the Laplanders, are still farther removed from civilized society, and plunged in even deeper barbarism. The wildest tundras and woods of Northern Russia and Western Siberia are the home of the Samoïede. With his reindeer herds he wanders over the naked wastes, from the eastern coast of the White Sea to the banks of the Chatanga, or hunts in the boundless forests between the Obi and the Jenissei. His intercourse with the Russians is confined to his annual visit at the fairs of such miserable settlements as Obdorsk and Pustosersk, where, far from improving by their company, he but too often becomes the prey of their avarice, and learns to know them merely as cheats and oppressors. Protestant missionaries have long since brought instruction to the Laplander’s hut, but the majority of the less fortunate Samoïedes still adhere to the gross superstitions of their fathers. They believe in a Supreme Being—Num, or Jilibeambaertje—who resides in the air, and, like the Jupiter of old, sends down thunder and lightning, rain and snow; and as a proof that something of a poetic fancy is to be found even among the most savage nations, they call the rainbow “the hem of his garment.” As this deity, however, is too far removed from them to leave them any hope of gaining180 his favor, they never think of offering him either prayer or sacrifice. But, besides Num, there are a great many inferior spirits, or idols, who directly interfere in human concerns—capricious beings, who allow themselves to be influenced by offerings, or yield to magical incantations; and to these, therefore, the Samoïede has recourse when he feels the necessity of invoking the aid or averting the wrath of a higher Power.
The chief of all Samoïede idols is in the island of Waygatz—a cold and melancholy Delos—where it was already found by old Barentz. This idol is a mere block of stone, with its head tapering to a point. It has thus been fashioned, not by a mortal artist, but by a play of nature. After this original the Samoïedes have formed many idols of stone or wood of various sizes, which they call “Sjadæi,” from their possessing a human physiognomy (sja). These idols they dress in reindeer skins, and ornament them with all sorts of colored rags. But a resemblance to the human form is not the necessary attribute of a Samoïede idol; any irregularly-shaped stone or tree may be thus distinguished. If the object is small, the savage carries it every where about with him, carefully wrapped up; if too cumbersome to be transported, it is reserved as a kind of national deity. As with the Ostiaks, each Samoïede tribe has in its train a peculiar sledge—the Hahengan—in which the household idols (or Hahe) are placed. One of these Penates protects the reindeer, another watches over the health of his worshippers, a third is the guardian of their connubial happiness, a fourth takes care to fill their nets with fish. Whenever his services are required, the Hahe is taken from his repository, and erected in the tent or on the pasture-ground, in the wood or on the river’s bank. His mouth is then smeared with oil or blood, and a dish with fish or flesh is set before him, in the full expectation that his good offices will amply repay the savory repast. When his aid is no longer necessary, he is put aside without any further ceremony, and as little noticed as the Madonna of the Neapolitan fisherman after the storm has ceased.
The Hahe, or idols, are very convenient objects of reverence to the Samoïede, as he can consult them, or ask their assistance, without being initiated in the secrets of magic; while the Tadebtsios, or invisible spirits, which everywhere hover about in the air, and are more inclined to injure than to benefit man, can only be invoked by a Tadibe, or sorcerer, who, like the Cumæan Sibyl, works himself into a state of ecstatic frenzy. When his services are required, the first care of the Tadibe is to invest himself with his magical mantle—a kind of shirt made of reindeer leather, and hemmed with red cloth. The seams are covered in a similar manner, and the shoulders are decorated with epaulettes of the same gaudy material. A piece of red cloth veils the eyes and face—for the Tadibe requires no external organs of sight to penetrate into the world of spirits—and a plate of polished metal shines upon his breast.
Thus accoutred, the Tadibe seizes his magical drum, whose sounds summon the spirits to his will. Its form is round, it has but one bottom, made of reindeer skin, and is more or less decorated with brass rings and other ornaments, according to the wealth or poverty of its possessor. During the ceremony of invocation, the Tadibe is generally assisted by a disciple, more or less initiated181 in the magic art. They either sit down, or walk about in a circle. The chief sorcerer beats the drum, at first slowly, then with increasing violence, singing at the same time a few words to a mystic melody. The disciple immediately falls in, and both repeat the same monotonous chant.
At length the spirits appear, and the consultation is supposed to begin; the Tadibe from time to time remaining silent, as if listening to their answers, and but gently beating his drum, while the assistant continues to sing. Finally, this mute conversation ceases, the song changes into a wild howling, the drum is violently struck, the eye of the Tadibe glows with a strange fire, foam issues from his lips—when suddenly the uproar ceases, and the oracular sentence is pronounced. The Tadibes are consulted not only for the purpose of recovering a strange reindeer, or to preserve the herd from a contagious disorder, or to obtain success in fishing; the Samoïede, when a prey to illness, seeks no other medical advice; and the sorcerer’s drum either scares away the malevolent spirits that cause the malady, or summons others to the assistance of his patient.
The office of Tadibe is generally hereditary, but individuals gifted by nature with excitable nerves and an ardent imagination not seldom desire to be initiated in these supernatural communications. No one can teach the candidate. His morbid fancy is worked upon by solitude, the contemplation of the gloomy aspect of nature, long vigils, fasts, the use of narcotics and stimulants, until he becomes persuaded that he too has seen the apparitions which he has heard of from his boyhood. He is then received as a Tadibe with many ceremonies, which are held in the silence of the night, and invested with the magic drum. Thus the Tadibe partly believes in the visions and fancies of his own overheated brain. Besides dealing with the invisible world, he does not neglect the usual arts of an expert conjuror, and knows by this means to increase his influence over his simple-minded countrymen. One of his commonest tricks is similar to that which has been practised with so much success by the Brothers Davenport. He sits down, with his hands and feet bound, on a reindeer skin stretched out upon the floor, and, the light being removed, begins to summon the ministering spirits to his aid. Strange unearthly noises now begin to be heard—bears growl, snakes hiss, squirrels rustle about the hut. At length the tumult ceases, the audience anxiously awaits the end of the spectacle, when suddenly the Tadibe, freed from his bonds, steps into the hut—no one doubting that the spirits have set him free.
As barbarous as the poor wretches who submit to his guidance, the Tadibe is incapable of improving their moral condition, and has no wish to do so. Under various names—Schamans among the Tungusi, Angekoks among the Esquimaux, medicine-men among the Crees and Chepewyans, etc.—we find similar magicians or impostors assuming a spiritual dictatorship over all the Arctic nations of the Old and the New World, wherever their authority has not been broken by Christianity or Buddhism; and this dreary faith still extends its influence over at least half a million of souls, from the White Sea to the extremity of Asia, and from the Pacific to Hudson’s Bay.
Like the Ostiaks and other Siberian tribes, the Samoïedes honor the memory of the dead by sacrifices and other ceremonie............