When a great poet can blunder so flagrantly in his diagnosis of love,
we cannot wonder that minor writers should often be erratic. For
instance, in _The Snake Dance of the Moquis of Arizona_ (45-46),
Captain J.D. Bourke exclaims:
"So much stuff and nonsense has been written about the
entire absence of affection from the Indian character,
especially in the relations between the sexes, that it
affords me great pleasure to note this little incident"
--namely, a scene between an Indian and a young squaw:
"They had evidently only lately had a quarrel, for
which each was heartily sorry. He approached, and was
received with a disdain tempered with so much sweetness
and affection that he wilted at once, and, instead of
boldly asserting himself, dared do nothing but timidly
touch her hand. The touch, I imagine, was not
disagreeable, because the girl's hand was soon firmly
held in his, and he, with earnest warmth, was pouring
into her ear words whose purport it was not difficult
to conjecture."
That the simplest kind of a sensual caress--squeezing a young woman's
hand and whispering in her ear--should be accepted as evidence of
_affection_ is naïve, to say the least, and need not be commented on
after what has just been said about the true nature of affection and
its altruistic test. Unfortunately many travellers who came in contact
with the lower races shared Bourke's crude conception of the nature of
affection, and this has done much to mislead even expert
anthropologists; Westermarck, for instance, who is induced by such
testimony to remark (358) that conjugal affection has among certain
uncivilized peoples "reached a remarkably high degree of development."
Among those whom he relies on as witnesses is Schweinfurth, who says
of the man-eating African Niam-Niam that "they display an affection
for their wives which is unparalleled among natives of so low a grade.
... A husband will spare no sacrifice to redeem an imprisoned wife"
(I., 472).