Throughout this chapter no reference has been made to the Eskimos, who
are popularly considered a race apart from the Indians. The best
authorities now believe that they are a strictly American race, whose
primal home was to the south of the Hudson Bay, whence they spread
northward to Labrador, Greenland, and Alaska.[254] I have reserved
them for separate consideration because they admirably illustrate the
grand truth just formulated, that a race may have made considerable
progress in some directions and yet be quite below the sentiment of
love. Westermarck's opinion (516) that the Eskimos are "a rather
advanced race" is borne out by the testimony of those who have known
them well. They are described as singularly cheerful and good-natured
among themselves. Hall says "their memory is remarkably good, and
their intellectual powers, in all that relates to their native land,
its inhabitants, its coasts, and interior parts, is of a surprisingly
high order" (I., 128). But what is of particular interest is the great
aptitude Eskimos seem to show for art, and their fondness for poetry
and music. King[255] says that "the art of carving is universally
practised" by them, and he speaks of their models of men, animals, and
utensils as "executed in a masterly style." Brinton indeed says they
have a more artistic eye for picture-writing than any Indian race
north of Mexico. They enliven their long winter nights with
imaginative tales, music, and song. Their poets are held in high
honor, and it is said they get their notion of the music of verse by
sleeping by the sound of running water, that they may catch its
mysterious notes.
Yet when we look at the Eskimos from another point of view we find
them horribly and bestially unaesthetic. Cranz speaks of "their filthy
clothes swarming with vermin." They make their oil by chewing seal
blubber and spurting the liquid into a vessel. "A kettle is seldom
washed except the dogs chance to lick it clean." Mothers wash
children's faces by licking them all over.[256]
Such utter lack of delicacy prepares us for the statement that the
Eskimos are equally coarse in other respects, notably in their
treatment of women and their sexual feelings. It would be a stigma
upon an Eskimo's character, says Cranz (I., 154), "if he so much as
drew a seal out of the water." Having performed the pleasantly
exciting part of killing it, he leaves all the drudgery and hard work
of hauling, butchering, cooking, tanning, shoe-making, etc., to the
women. They build the houses, too, while the men look on with the
greatest insensibility, not stirring a finger to assist them in
carrying the heavy stones. Girls are often "engaged" as soon as born,
nor are those who grow up free allowed to marry according to their own
preference. "When friendly exhortations are unavailing she is
compelled by force, and even blows, to receive her husband." (Cranz,
I., 146.) They consider children troublesome, and the race is dying
out. Women are not allowed to eat of the first seal of the season. The
sick are left to take care of themselves. (Hall, II., 322, I., 103.)
In years of scarcity widows "are rejected from the community, and
hover about the encampments like starving wolves ... until hunger and
cold terminate their wretched existence." (M'Lean, II., 143.) Men and
women alike are without any sense of modesty; in their warm hovels
both sexes divest themselves of nearly all their clothing. Nor,
although they fight and punish jealousy, have they any regard for
chastity _per se_. Lending a wife or daughter to a guest is a
recognized duty of hospitality. Young couples live together on trial.
When the husband is away hunting or fishing the wife has her
intrigues, and often adultery is committed _sans gêne_ on either side.
Unnatural vices are indulged in without secrecy, and altogether the
picture is one of utter depravity and coarseness.[257]
Under such circumstances we hardly needed the specific assurance of
Rink, who collected and published a volume of _Tales and Traditions of
the Eskimo_, and who says that "never is much room given in this
poetry to the almost universal feeling of love." He refers, of course,
to any kind of love, and he puts it very mildly. Not only is there no
trace of altruistic affection in any of these tales and traditions,
but the few erotic stories recorded (_e.g._, pp. 236-37) are too
coarse to be cited or summarized here. Hall, too, concluded that
"love--if it come at all--comes after marriage." He also informs us
(II., 313) that there "generally exists between husband and wife a
steady but not very demonstrative affection;" but here he evidently
wrongs the Eskimos; for, as he himself remarks (126), they
"always summarily punish their wives for any real or
imaginary offence. They seize the first thing at hand--a
stone, knife, hatchet, or spear--and throw it at the
offending woman, just as they would at their dogs."