THE ESKIMOS.
The land of the Eskimos is of very wide extent. From Greenland and
Labrador they range over all the coasts of Arctic America to the
extreme north-eastern point of Asia. Several of the Eskimo tribes are
independent; others acknowledge the rule of Great Britain, Denmark,
Russia, and more recently of the United States. The whaler meets
with them on the shores of Baffin Bay, and in the icy sea beyond
Behring Straits; the explorer has tracked them as far as Smith Sound,
the highway to the North Pole; and while they descend as low as the
latitude of Vienna, they rove as far north as the 81st and 82nd
parallels. They are the aborigines of the deserts of ice and snow, the
ancient masters of the Arctic wilderness, and all Polar America is
their long-acknowledged domain. To a certain extent they are nomadic
in their habits; compelled to migrate by the conditions of the climate
in which they live, and forced to seek their scanty sustenance in a
new locality when they have exhausted the capabilities of any chosen
habitat. As Mr. Markham tells us, traces of former inhabitants are
found throughout the gloomiest wastes of the Arctic regions, in sterile
and silent tracts where now only solitude prevails. These wilds, it
is known, have been uninhabited for centuries; yet they are covered
with memorials of wanderers or of sojourners of a bygone age. Here and
there, in Greenland, in Boothia, on the American coast, where life is
possible, the descendants of former nomads are still to be found.
Arctic discovery, as yet, has stopped short at about 82° on the west
coast, and 76° on the east, of Greenland. These two points are about
six hundred miles apart. There have been inhabitants at both points,
though they are separated by an uninhabitable interval from the
settlements further south; we may conclude, then, that the _terra
incognita_ further north is also or has been inhabited. In 1818 it
was discovered that a small tribe of Eskimos inhabited the bleak west
coast of Greenland between 76° and 79° N. They could not penetrate
to the south on account of the glaciers of Melville Bay; they could
not penetrate to the north, because all progress in that direction
is forbidden by the great Humboldt glacier; while the huge interior
glacier of the _Sernik-sook_ pent them in upon the narrow belt of
the sea-coast. These so-called “Arctic Highlanders” number about one
hundred and forty souls, and throughout the winter their precarious
livelihood depends on the fish they catch in the open pools and
water-ways. Under similar conditions, it is probable that Eskimo tribes
may be existing still further north; or if, as geographers suppose, an
open sea really surrounds the Pole, and a warmer atmosphere prevails,
the conditions of their existence will necessarily be more favourable.
* * * * *
Before we come to speak of the characteristics of the Eskimos, we must
briefly notice the Danish settlements in Greenland, which are gradually
attracting no inconsiderable number of them within the bounds of
civilization. These are dotted along the coast, like so many centres
of light and life; but the most important, from a commercial point of
view, are Upernavik, Jacobshav’n, and Godhav’n.
Upernavik is the chief town of a district which extends from the 70th
to the 74th degree of north latitude, and enjoys the distinction of
being the most northerly civilized region in the world. Its northern
boundary represents the furthest advance of civilization in its long
warfare against the Arctic climate.
[Illustration: UPERNAVIK, GREENLAND.]
The town of Upernavik is situated on the summit of a mossy hill which
slopes to the head of a small but sheltered harbour. It contains
a government-house, plastered with pitch and tar; a shop or two;
lodging-houses for the Danish officials; some timber huts, inhabited
by Danes; and a number of huts of stone and turf, intermingled with
seal-skin tents, which accommodate the natives. Its principal evidences
of civilization are its neat little church and parsonage.
The inhabitants are chiefly occupied in fishing and hunting, and in
the manufacture of suitable clothing for the protection of the human
frame against the winter cold. Reindeer, seal, and dog skins are deftly
converted into hoods, jackets, trousers, and boots. The last-named
are triumphs of ingenuity. They are made of seal-skin, which has
been tanned by alternate freezing and thawing; are sewed with sinew,
and “crimped” and fitted to the foot with equal taste and skill. Dr.
Hayes informs us that the Greenland women, not exempt from the love of
finery characteristic of their sex, trim their own boots in a perfectly
bewitching manner, and adopt the gayest of colours. Red boots, or
white, trimmed with red, he says, seemed most generally worn, though
there was no more limit to the variety than to the capriciousness of
the fancy which suggested it. And it would be difficult to imagine a
more grotesque spectacle than is presented by the crowd of red, and
yellow, and white, and purple, and blue-legged women who crowd the
beach whenever a strange ship enters the harbour.
The population of Upernavik numbers now about two hundred and fifty
souls; comprising some forty or fifty Danes, a larger number of
half-breeds, the remainder being native Greenlanders,--that is, Eskimos.
[Illustration: DISCO ISLAND, GREENLAND.]
In describing _one_ Danish settlement we describe all, for they
present exactly the same characteristics, the difference between them
being only a question of population.
[Illustration: GODHAV’N, DISKO ISLAND, GREENLAND.]
Jacobshav’n and Godhav’n are situated on the island of Disko, which is
separated from the west coast of Greenland by Weygat Strait, and has
been described as one of the most remarkable localities in the Arctic
World. The tradition runs that it was translated from a southern region
to its present position by a potent sorcerer; and an enormous hole
in the rock is pointed out as the gully through which he passed his
rope. It is a lofty island, and its coast is belted round by high trap
cliffs, of the most imposing aspect. Near its south-west extremity,
in lat. 69° S., a low rugged spur or tongue of granite projects into
the sea for about a mile and a half,--a peninsula at low water, and an
island at high water,--and forms the snug little recess of Godhav’n,
or Good Harbour. To the north of the bay, in face of rocky cliffs,
which rise perpendicularly from the sea to a height of 2000 feet, lies
the town of the same name, which our English whalers know as Lievely,
probably a corruption of the adjective _lively_; for the tiny
colony is the metropolis of Northern Greenland; and since the beginning
of the present century has been the favourite rendezvous of the fishing
fleets and expeditions of discovery.
* * * * *
Further to the north lies Jacobshav’n, which possesses a celebrity of
its own as one of the most ancient of the Moravian mission-stations in
the north of Greenland. Besides a church, it boasts of a college for
the education and training of natives who desire to be of service to
their fellow-countrymen in the capacity of catechists or teachers. So
great has been the industry, and so well deserved is the influence of
the missionaries, that it is difficult now to find an Eskimo woman in
this part of Greenland who cannot read and write. Prior to the Danish
colonisation of Greenland, the language of the natives was exclusively
oral. Only through the medium of speech could they represent their
simplest ideas; and the picture-writing of the North American Indians
was beyond their skill. But the missionaries have raised the Eskimo
tongue into the rank of written languages. At Godthaab a printing-press
is in full operation, and has already produced some very interesting
historical narratives and Eskimo traditions.
[Illustration: DANISH SETTLEMENT OF JACOBSHAV’N, GREENLAND.]
As is the case with all the Greenland colonies, Jacobshav’n owes its
prosperity to the seal-fishing. Moreover, the Greenland, or “right”
whale, in its annual migrations southward, enters the neighbouring
waters during the month of September, and furnishes employment to the
fishing population.
In the neighbourhood of Jacobshav’n an enormous glacier, one of the
offshoots of the great central _mer de glace_ of Greenland, finds
its way to the sea. Yet the temperature is said to be milder than at
Godhav’n.
* * * * *
The following remarks apply, of course, to those Eskimos who still lead
a nomadic life, and have profited little or nothing by the Christian
civilization of the Danish settlements and Moravian missions.
Among themselves the Eskimos are known as _Inuits_, or “men;”
the seamen of the Hudson Bay ships have long been accustomed to call
them _Seymos_ or _Suckemos_--names derived from the cries of
_Seymo_ or _Teymo_ with which they hail the arrival of the
traders; while the old Norsemen designated them, in allusion to their
discordant shouts, or by way of expressing their infinite contempt,
_Skraelingers_, “screamers” or “wretches.”
The European feels impelled to pity the hard fate which condemns them
to inhabit one of the dreariest and most inhospitable regions of the
globe, where only a few mosses and lichens, or plants scarcely higher
in the scale of creation, can maintain a struggling existence; where
land animals and birds are few in number; and where human life would be
impossible but for the provision which the ocean waters so abundantly
supply. As they live in a great degree upon fish and the cetaceans,
they dwell almost always near the coast, and never penetrate inland to
any considerable distance.
In the east the Eskimos, for several centuries, have been subjected
to the civilizing influences of the English and the Dutch; in the
west, they have long been under the iron rule of the Muscovite. In the
north and the centre their intercourse with Europeans has always been
casual and inconsiderable. It will therefore be understood that the
different branches of this wide-spread race must necessarily exhibit
some diversity of character, and that the same description of manners
and mode of life will not in all points apply with equal accuracy to
the savage and heathen Eskimos of the extreme northern shores and
islands, the Greek Catholic Aleüts, the faithful servants of the Hudson
Bay Company, and the disciples of the Moravian Brethren in Labrador
or Greenland. Yet the differences are by no means important, and it
may be doubted whether any other race, living under such peculiar
conditions, and extending over so vast an area, can show so few and
such inconsiderable specific varieties. When one thinks of an Eskimo,
one naturally calls up a certain image to one’s mind: that of a man of
moderate stature or under medium size, with a broad flat face, narrow
tapering forehead, and narrow or more or less oblique eyes; and this
image or type will be found to be realized throughout the length and
breadth of Eskimo America. The Eskimo, generally speaking, would seem
to have sprung from a Mongol stock; at all events, he can claim no
kinship with the Red Indians. Happily for Europeans, if inferior to
the latter in physical qualities, he is superior in generosity and
amiability of disposition.
The Eskimos are sometimes spoken of as if they were dwarfs or
Lilliputians, but such is not the case. They are shorter than the
average Frenchman or Englishman, but individuals measuring from
five feet ten inches to six feet have been found in Camden Bay. Dr.
Kane speaks of Eskimos in Smith Strait who were fully a foot taller
than himself. It is true of the females, however, that they are
comparatively little.
The Eskimos are a stalwart, broad-shouldered race, considerably
stronger than any other of the races of North America. In both sexes
the hands and feet are small and well-shaped. Their muscles are
strongly developed, owing to constant exercise in hunting the seal and
the walrus. They are also powerful wrestlers, and on no unequal terms
could compete with the athletic celebrities of Devon and Cornwall.
Their physiognomy, notwithstanding its lack of beauty, is far from
displeasing; its expression is cheerful and good-tempered, and the
long winter night does not seem to sadden their spirits or oppress
their energies. The females are well made, and though not handsome,
are scarcely to be stigmatized as ugly. Their teeth are very white and
regular; and their complexion is warm, clear, and good. It is true that
it cannot be seen to advantage, owing to the layers of dirt by which it
is obscured; but it is not much darker than a dark brunette, and as for
the dirt--well, perhaps, it is preferable to cosmetics!
Even in the Arctic World, woman seems conscious of the influence of her
charms, and man seems willing to recognize it. They plait their black
and glossy hair--these Eskimo beauties!--with much care and taste; and
they tattoo their forehead, cheeks, and chin with a few curved lines,
which produce a not altogether unpleasant effect.
From Behring Straits eastward, as far as the river Mackenzie, the
males pierce the lower lip near each angle of the mouth, in order to
suspend to it ornaments of blue or green quartz, or of ivory, shaped
like buttons. Some insert a small ivory quill or dentalium shell in
the cartilage of the nose. They decorate themselves, moreover, with
strings of glass beads; or when and where these cannot be obtained,
with strings of the teeth of the musk-ox, wolf, or fox; hanging them to
the tail of the jacket, or twining them round the waist like a girdle.
The influence of climate upon dress is a subject which we commend
to the notice of art-critics and æsthetic philosophers. Within the
Arctic Circle the problem to be solved is, how to obtain the greatest
amount of protection for the person, without rendering the costume
too heavy or cumbrous; and the Eskimos have succeeded in solving it
satisfactorily. They can defy the rigour of the Arctic winter, its
extreme cold, its severest gales, and pursue their avocations in the
open air even in the dreariness of the early winter twilight, so
cleverly adapted is their garb to the conditions under which they live.
Their boots, made of seal-skin, and lined with the downy skins of
birds, are thoroughly waterproof; their gloves are large, but defend
the hands from frost-bite: they wear two pair of breeches, made of
reindeer or seal-skin, of which the under pair has the close, warm,
stimulating hair close to the flesh; and two jackets, of which the
upper one is provided with a large hood, completely enveloping the head
and face, all but the eyes. The women are similarly attired, except
that their outer jacket is a little longer, and the hood, in which they
carry their children, considerably larger; and that, in summer, they
substitute for the skin-jacket a water-tight shirt, or _kamleika_,
made of the entrails of the seal or walrus. They sew their boots
so tightly as to render them impervious to moisture, and so neatly
that they may almost be included in the category of works of art. In
Labrador the women carry their infants in their boots, which have a
long pointed flap in front for the purpose.
In a preceding chapter we have spoken incidentally of the Eskimo
huts. These, like the Eskimo dress, are admirably adapted to the
circumstances of the country and the nature of the climate. The
materials used are either frozen snow, earth, stones, or drift-wood.
The snow-hut is a dome-shaped edifice, constructed in the following
manner:--
First, the builders trace a circle on the smooth level surface of the
snow, and the snow gathered within the area thus defined is cut into
slabs, and used for building the walls, leaving the ice underneath to
serve as the flooring.
The crevices between the slabs, and any accidental fissures, are closed
up by throwing a few shovelfuls of loose snow over the building. Two
men are generally engaged in the work; and when the dome is completed,
the one within cuts a low door, through which he creeps. As the walls
are not more than three or four inches thick, they admit a soft subdued
light into the interior, but a window of transparent ice is generally
added. Not only the hut, but the furniture inside it, is made of snow;
snow seats, snow tables, snow couches--the latter rendered comfortable
by coverings of skins. To exclude the cold outer air, the entrance
is protected by an antechamber and a porch; and for the purposes of
intercommunication, covered passages are carried from one hut to
another.
[Illustration: BUILDING AN ESKIMO HUT.]
The rapidity with which these snow-huts are raised is quite surprising,
and certainly affords a vivid illustration of the old saying that
“practice brings perfection.” Captain M’Clintock for a few nails hired
four Eskimos to erect a hut for his ship’s crew; and though it was
twenty-four feet in circumference, and five and a half feet in height,
it was erected in a single day.
Much ingenuity is frequently displayed in their construction.
Dr. Scoresby, in 1824, found some deserted huts on the east coast of
Greenland, which showed no little constructive skill on the part of
their builders.
A horizontal tunnel, about fifteen feet in length, and so low that
a person entering it was compelled to crawl on his hands and knees,
opened with one end to the south, while the other end terminated in the
interior of the hut. This rose but slightly above the surface of the
earth, and being generally overgrown with moss or grass, could scarcely
be distinguished from the neighbouring soil. It resembled, indeed, a
large ant-hill, or the work of a mammoth mole! In some cases the floor
of the tunnel was on a level with that of the hut; but more frequently
it slanted downwards and upwards, so that the colder, and consequently
heavier, atmospheric air was still more completely prevented from
mixing too quickly with the warmer air within. The other arrangements
exhibited the same ingenuity in providing against the inconveniences of
a rigorous climate.
From the huts of the Eskimos we pass to their boats.
[Illustration: THE ESKIMO KAYAK.]
The _kayak_ or _baidar_ is as good in its way as the light
and swift canoe of the Polynesian islanders. It consists of a narrow,
long, and light wooden framework, covered water-tight with seal-skin,
with a central aperture for the body of the rower. Sometimes the
frame is made of seal or walrus bone. The Eskimo takes his seat in
his buoyant craft, with legs outstretched, and binds a sack--which is
made from the intestines of the whale, or the skins of young seals--so
tightly round his waist, that even in a rolling sea the boat remains
water-tight. Dexterously and rapidly using his paddle, with his spear
or harpoon before him, and preserving his equilibrium with marvellous
steadiness, he darts over the waves like an arrow; and even if upset,
speedily rights himself and his buoyant skiff. The _oomiak_, or
woman’s boat, consists in like manner of a framework covered with
seal-skins; but it is large enough to accommodate ten or twelve people,
with benches for the women who row or paddle. The mast supports a
triangular sail, made of the entrails of seals, and easily distended by
the wind.
It has been observed that a similar degree of inventive and executive
skill is displayed by the Eskimos in their spears and harpoons, their
fishing and hunting implements. Their oars are tastefully inlaid with
walrus teeth; they have several kinds of spears or darts, according to
the character of the animal they intend to hunt; and their bows, with
strings of seal-gut, are so strong and elastic as to drive a six-foot
arrow a really considerable distance. The harpoons and spears used
in killing whales or seals have long shafts of wood or bone, and the
barbed point is so constructed that, when lodged in the body of an
animal, it remains imbedded, while the shaft attached to it by a string
is loosened from the socket, and acts as a buoy. Seal-skins filled with
air, like bladders, are also employed as buoys for the whale-spears,
being stripped from the animal with such address that all the natural
apertures are easily made air-tight.
Fish-hooks, knives, and spear or harpoon heads, the Eskimos make of
the horns and bones of the deer. In constructing their sledges, and
roofing their huts, they have recourse to the ribs of the whale,
when drift-wood is not available. Strips of seal-skin hide are a
capital substitute for cordage, and cords for nets and bow-strings are
manipulated from the sinews of musk-oxen and deer.
[Illustration: THE ESKIMO OOMIAK.]
A strange and deadly antagonism prevails between the Eskimos and the
Red Indians. On the part of the latter it would seem to originate
in jealousy, for the Eskimos are superior in skill, social habits,
general intelligence, personal courage, and strength; on the part of
the former, in the necessity for self-defence and the provocations they
have received from a sanguinary enemy.
Hence, the Indians inhabiting the borders of the Polar World seek every
opportunity of surprising and massacring the inoffensive Eskimos.
Hearne relates that, in the course of his expedition to the Coppermine
River, the Indians who accompanied him obtained information that a
party of Eskimos had raised their summer huts near the river-mouth. In
spite of his generous efforts, they resolved on destroying the peaceful
settlement. Stealthily they made their approach, and when the midnight
sun touched the horizon, they swooped down, with a frightful yell, on
their unfortunate victims, not one of whom escaped. With that love of
torture which seems inherent in the Red Indian, they did their utmost
to intensify and prolong the agonies of the sufferers; and one aged
woman had both her eyes torn out before she received her death-blow.
The scene where this cruel slaughter took place is known to this day as
the “Bloody Falls.”
* * * * *
Dr. Kane supplies some interesting particulars of a party of Eskimos
with whom he became acquainted during his memorable expedition. The
intimacy began under unfavourable circumstances, for three of the party
had been detected in a scandalous theft, had attempted to carry off
their plunder, were pursued, overtaken, and punished. Soon afterwards,
Metek, the head man or chief, arrived on the scene, and a treaty of
peace was concluded.
On the part of the _Inuit_, or Eskimos, it ran as follows:--
“We promise that we will not steal. We promise we will bring you fresh
meat. We promise we will sell or lend you dogs. We will keep you
company whenever you want us, and show you where to find the game.”
On the part of the _Kablunah_, or white men, it ran as follows:--
“We promise that we will not visit you with death or sorcery, nor do
you any hurt or mischief whatsoever. We will shoot for you on our
hunts. You shall be made welcome aboard ship. We will give you presents
of needles, pins, two kinds of knife, a hoop, three bits of hard wood,
some fat, an awl, and some sewing-thread; and we will trade with you
of these and everything else you want for walrus and seal meat of the
first quality.”
The treaty, says Dr. Kane, was not solemnized by an oath; but it was
never broken.
The Eskimo settlement at Anatoak, lat. 73° N, on the shore of Smith
Strait, near Cape Inglefield, seems to merit description.
The hut or igloë was a single rude elliptical apartment, built not
unskilfully of stone, the outside lined with sods. At its further
end, a rude platform, also of stone, was raised about a foot above
the entering floor. The roof was irregularly curved. It was composed
of flat stones, remarkably large and heavy, arranged so as to overlap
each other, but apparently without any intelligent application of
the principle of the arch. The height of this cave-like abode barely
permitted one to sit upright. Its length was eight feet, its breadth
seven feet, and an expansion of the tunnelled entrance made an
appendage of perhaps two feet more.
The true winter-entrance is called the _tossut_. It is a walled
tunnel, ten feet long, and so narrow that a man can hardly crawl along
it. It opens outside below the level of the igloë, into which it leads
by a gradual ascent.
Thus the reader will see that the hut at Anatoak was constructed on the
same principles as the huts discovered by Dr. Scoresby.
Time had done its work, says Dr. Kane, on the igloë of Anatoak, as
among the palatial structures of more southern deserts. The entire
front of the dome had fallen in, closing up the _tossut_, or
tunnel, and forcing visitors and residents to enter at the solitary
window above it. The breach was wide enough to admit a sledge-team; but
the Eskimos showed no anxiety to close it up. Their clothes saturated
with the freezing water of the floes, these men of iron gathered round
a fire of hissing and flaring whale’s blubber, and steamed away in
apparent comfort. The only departure from their usual routine was
suggested probably by the open roof and the bleakness of the night;
and therefore they refrained from stripping themselves naked before
coming into the hut, and hanging up their dripping vestments to dry,
like a votive offering to the god of the sea.
Their kitchen implements were remarkable for simplicity. “A rude
saucer-shaped cup of seal-skin, to gather and hold water in, was the
solitary utensil that could be dignified as table-furniture. A flat
stone, a fixture of the hut, supported by other stones just above the
shoulder-blade of a walrus,--the stone slightly inclined, the cavity of
the bone large enough to hold a moss-wick and some blubber; a square
block of snow was placed on the stone, and, as the hot smoke circled
round it, the seal-skin saucer caught the water that dripped from
the edge. They had no vessel for boiling; what they did not eat raw
they baked upon a hot stone. A solitary coil of walrus-line, fastened
to a movable lance-head (_noon-ghak_), with the well-worn and
well-soaked clothes on their backs, completed the inventory of their
effects.”
The Eskimos entertained Dr. Kane and his companions with a choral
performance, singing their rude, monotonous song of “Amna Ayah” till
the unfortunate white men were almost maddened by the discord. They
improvised, moreover, a special chant in their honour, which they
repeated with great gravity of utterance, invariably concluding with
the sonorous and complimentary refrain of “_Nalegak! nalegak!
nalegak-soak!_”--“Captain! captain! great captain!” The chant ran as
follows:--
[Illustration: Am-na-yah! Am-na-yah! Am-na-yah! Am-na-yah!]
In the early spring the Eskimos resume their hunting expeditions, and
their snow-covered huts are transformed into scenes of the liveliest
activity. Stacks of jointed meat, chiefly walrus, are piled upon the
ice-foot; the women stretch the hide for sole-leather, and the men
collect a store of harpoon-lines for the winter. Tusky walrus heads
stare at the spectacle from the snowbank, where they are stowed for
their ivory; the dogs are tethered to the ice; and the children, each
one armed with the curved rib of some big walrus or seal, play ball and
bat among the snow-drifts.
The quantity of walrus meat which the Eskimos accumulate during a
season of plenty should certainly raise them above all risk of winter
want; but other causes than improvidence render their supplies scanty.
They are never idle; they hunt incessantly without the loss of a day.
When the storms prevent the use of the sledge, they occupy themselves
in stowing away the spoils of previous hunts. For this purpose they
dig a pit either on the mainland, or, which is preferred, on an island
inaccessible to foxes, and the jointed meat is stacked inside, and
covered with heavy stones.
The true explanation of the scarcity from which these people so
frequently suffer is the excessive consumption in which they indulge
during the summer season. By their ancient laws all share in common;
and since they migrate in numbers when their necessities press them,
the tax on each separate settlement is excessive. The quantity which
the members of a family consume seems excessive to a stranger; yet
it is not the result of inconsiderate gluttony, but due to their
peculiarities of life and organization. In active exercise, and under
the influence of exposure to a severe temperature, the waste of carbon
must be enormous.
When in-doors, and at rest, engaged upon their ivory harness-rings,
fowl-nets, or other household gear, they eat, as many eat in more
civilized lands, for mere animal enjoyment, and to pass away the time.
But when engaged in the chase, they take but one meal a day, and that
not until the day’s labour is ended. They go out upon the ice without
breakfast, and seldom eat anything until their return. Dr. Kane
estimates the average ration of an Eskimo in a season of plenty at
eight to ten pounds of meat a day, with soup and water to the extent
of half a gallon. Such an allowance might almost have satisfied the
appetite of Gargantua!
* * * * *
Dr. Hayes, in the course of his adventurous Arctic boat-journey, held
much intercourse with the Eskimos, and his impressions, on the whole,
would seem to have been highly favourable.
His sketch of a couple whom he met in the neighbourhood of the Eskimo
colony of Netlik is very amusing.
He describes them as a most _un_human-looking pair. Everything
on and about them told of the battle they fought so gallantly and
patiently with the elements. From head to foot they were invested in
a coat of ice and snow. Shapeless lumps of whiteness, they resembled
the snow-kings or statues which boys delight in making, except that
they possessed the faculty of motion. Their long, heavy fox-skin coats,
reaching nearly to the knees, and surmounted by a hood, covering, like
a round lump, all of the head but the face, the bear-skin pantaloons
and boots and mittens were saturated with snow. Their long, black hair,
which fell from beneath their hoods over their eyes and cheeks, their
eyelashes, the few hairs growing upon their chins, the rim of fur
around their faces, all glittered with white frost--the frozen moisture
of their breath. Each carried in his right hand a whip, and in his left
a lump of frozen meat and blubber. The meat they flung down on the
floor of Dr. Hayes’ hut; then, without pausing for an invitation, they
thrust their whipstocks under the rafters, and divesting themselves of
their mittens and outer garments, hung them thereon. Underneath their
frosty coats they wore a warm, close shirt of bird-skins.
In the same bold explorer’s narrative of his voyage of discovery in
1860, two other Eskimos figure very conspicuously; and one of these,
named Hans, would seem to have been a very fair type of the Eskimo
character. Hans, we may observe, had originally served in Dr. Kane’s
expedition, and had then gained the confidence of Dr. Hayes; so that
when the latter undertook his own memorable voyage, he became anxious
to secure the Eskimo’s services.
When his ship had crossed Melville Bay, and lay in the grim shadows
of Cape York, Dr. Hayes bethought himself of the Eskimo hunter. He
remembered to have heard that Hans had fallen in love, and taken a
wife, and repaired, with her at his side, to share the fortunes of the
wild Eskimos who inhabit the remote northern shores of Baffin Bay.
But Dr. Hayes felt confident that the hunter, having known something of
the superior comfort and happiness of the social life of civilization,
would soon weary of his voluntary banishment, and of the penury and
hardships of the existence of the Eskimo nomads. He made up his mind
that Hans would return to Cape York, and there take up his residence,
in the hope of being picked up by some passing ship.
So Dr. Hayes stood close in-shore, to find that his conjectures were
completely realized. As he sailed along the coast he discovered a group
of human beings eagerly endeavouring by signs and gestures to attract
attention. Heaving the schooner to, he and his second in command,
Mr. Sountag, went ashore in a boat, and there was Hans! The Eskimo
recognized both of them immediately, and called them by name.
[Illustration: DR. HAYES FALLS IN WITH HANS THE HUNTER.]
* * * * *
We may adopt the remainder of Dr. Hayes’ interesting little
episode, because it illustrates the ingrained selfishness, or
self-concentration, of the Eskimo character.
Hans had deteriorated greatly during his residence with the wild
Eskimos, and he had sunk to their level of filthy ugliness. He was
accompanied by his wife, who carried her first-born in a hood upon her
back; his wife’s brother, a quick-eyed boy of twelve years; and his
wife’s mother, “an ancient dame with voluble and flippant tongue.”
They were all attired in the usual Eskimo dress of skins; objects of
interest and curiosity, but not “things of beauty.”
Hans led his visitors, over rough rocks and through deep drifts
of snow, to his rude hut, which stood on the cold hill-top, about
two hundred feet above the sea-level. An excellent position for a
“look-out,” but as inconvenient for a hunter as can well be imagined.
Here he had watched and waited for many a dreary month; surveying the
sea day after day, in the faint hope of discovering some European
vessel. But none came; summer passed into winter, and winter lengthened
into summer; and still Hans watched and waited, yearning after his
southern home and the friends of his youth.
His tent--for it was rather a tent than a hut--was made of seal-skins,
and its capacity was scarcely sufficient to accommodate his little
family.
Dr. Hayes asked him if he would accompany the expedition.
“Yes.”
Would he take his wife and baby?
“Yes.”
Would he go without them?
“Yes.”
This last answer reveals the curious unimpressionableness of the
Eskimo, who endures with calmness, nay, even with indifference, those
partings which try the heartstrings of the European. It is, perhaps, a
result of the constant warfare he maintains against an uncongenial and
austere Nature that he comes to regard himself as his first and chief,
as almost his only concern. So long as his wife and children surround
him, he shows no evident want of affection; but he has no objection to
part from them, if the separation will prove to his individual interest.
As Dr. Hayes had no leisure to examine critically into the state of his
mind, and as he cherished a conviction that the permanent separation of
husband and wife was to be regarded as a painful event, he determined
on giving the Eskimo mother the benefit of this conventional suspicion.
Both husband and wife, therefore, were carried on board the schooner,
as well as their baby, their tent, and all their household goods. The
bright-eyed boy and the ancient dame cried to accompany them; but
Dr. Hayes had no further room, and was compelled to leave them to
the care of their tribe, who, about twenty in number, had discovered
the schooner, and with a merry shout had come across the hill. After
bestowing upon them some useful gifts, Dr. Hayes returned to his vessel.
He adds that Hans was the only unconcerned person in the party. At a
later period the thought crossed his commander’s mind that he would
by no means have been displeased had wife and child been left to the
charity of their savage kin: while Dr. Hayes had abundant reason,
during the course of the expedition, to wish that he had left the
selfish and indolent Eskimo to linger in his seal-skin tent among the
hills and rocks of Cape York.
* * * * *
The same traveller describes the hunting equipment of a party of
Eskimos setting out in pursuit of bears.
First, the dogs. These were picketed, each team separately, on a
convenient area of level ground; and on the approach of Dr. Hayes and
his companions they sprang up from the knotted heap, in which they
had been lying through the night, with a wild, fierce yell, which
died away into a low whine and impatient snarl. They evidently were
hungry, and their masters seemed desirous of feeding them; for, going
to their sledges, each one brought up a flat piece of something which
looked singularly like plate-iron, but, upon examination, was found to
be walrus-hide, three-quarters of an inch thick, and frozen intensely
hard. Throwing it upon the snow a few feet in advance of their
respective teams, they drew their knives from their capacious boots,
and attempted to cut up the skin; but its hardness defied all their
efforts, and Dr. Hayes had to fetch hatchet and saw before the work of
division could be completed.
During the few minutes thus occupied, the dogs had become almost
frantic. They endeavoured to break loose; pulling on their traces,
running back and springing forward, straining and choking themselves
until their eyes shot fire, and the foam flew from their mouths. The
sight of food had stimulated their wolfish passions, and they seemed
ready to eat each other. Not a moment passed that two or more of them
were not flying at each other’s throats, and, grappling together,
rolled, and tossed, and tumbled over the snow.
The Eskimos looked on apparently unconcerned, except when there
appeared a risk of one of the dogs being injured, and then they secured
a temporary calm by uttering an angry nasal “Ay! Ay!”
When at length the food was thrown, the dogs uttered a greedy scream,
which was followed by a moment’s silence while the pieces were falling,
then by a scuffle, and the hard, frozen chunks had vanished. How they
were swallowed, or how they were digested, was, to the spectator,
inexplicable! Enough to say that “the jaws of darkness did devour them
up,” and calm instantaneously succeeded to the storm.
The Eskimo dog is of medium size, and squarely built; in fact, he is
a reclaimed wolf, and exhibits that variety of colour which, after a
few generations, generally characterizes tame animals. Gray, which is
often seen, was probably at one time the predominating colour. Some of
the dogs are black, with white breasts; some are wholly white; others
are reddish or yellowish; but, indeed, almost every shade may be seen
amongst them. Their skin is covered with a coarse, compact fur, and is
much valued by the natives for the purposes of clothing. In the form
of the animals the variety is considerable; but the general characters
would seem to be a pointed nose, short ears, a cowardly, treacherous
eye, and a hanging tail. But exceptions occasionally occur, and one
figures in Dr. Hayes’ narrative under the name of _Toodlamik_, or,
more briefly, _Toodla_.
He differed from his kind in having a more compact head, a less
pointed nose, an eye denoting affection and reliance, and an erect,
bold, fearless carriage. Dr. Hayes, however, expresses some doubt
as to his purity of blood. From the beginning to the end of the
cruise he was master of all the dogs that were brought to the ship.
In this connection it is worthy of remark, that in every pack one
dog invariably attains the mastership of the whole--a kind of
major-generalship; and in each team, one who is master of his
comrades, a general of brigade. Once master, always master; but the
post of honour is gained at the cost of many a lame leg and ghastly
wound, and is held only by doing daily battle against all comers. These
could easily gain the ascendancy in every case, but for their own petty
jealousies, which often prevent their union for such a purpose. If a
combination, however, does happen to be brought about, and the leader
is hopelessly beaten, he is never worth anything afterward; his spirit
is completely prostrated, the poor fellow pines away, and dies at last
of a broken heart.
[Illustration: ESKIMO DOGS.]
Toodla, says Dr. Hayes, was a character in his way. He was a tyrant
of no mean pretension. Apparently he thought it his special duty to
attack every dog, great or small, that was added to the pack: if the
animal was a large one, in order, probably, that he might at once be
forced to feel that he had a master; if a small one, in order that
the others might hold him in the greater awe. It was sometimes quite
amusing to see him set off in pursuit of a strange dog, his head erect,
his tail curled gracefully over his back; slowly and deliberately he
went straight at his mark, with the confident, defiant air of one
who recognizes the power and importance of his office. Leagues and
conspiracies were not unfrequently formed against him, induced, no
doubt, by a feeling of despair; but he always succeeded in overthrowing
them,--not, it is true, without occasional assistance from “without;”
for the sailors, who petted him greatly, would sometimes take his part
when the struggle was manifestly unequal.
* * * * *
But we must leave the dogs, and turn to the sledge.
This was, in very truth, an ingenious specimen of native mechanical
skill. It was made wholly of bone and leather. The runners, which were
square behind and rounded upward in front, and about five feet long,
seven inches high, and three-fourths of an inch thick, were slabs of
bone; not solid, but made up of a number of pieces of various shapes
and sizes, dexterously fitted and tightly lashed together. Some of
these were not larger than one’s two fingers; some were three or four
inches square; others were as large as one’s hand, and triangular in
shape; others, again, were several inches in length, and two or three
in breadth. They all fitted into their several places as exactly as
the blocks of a Chinese puzzle. Near their margins ran rows of little
holes, and through these strings of seal-skin were inserted, by which
the blocks were fastened together, until the whole was as firm as a
board.
The marvel of the thing is that all these pieces are flattened and cut
into the required shape, not with nicely contrived instruments and
tools, but with stones. The labour must be immense. The grinding needed
to make a single runner must be the work of months. The construction
of an entirely new sledge would probably occupy the lifetime of a
generation; and hence a vehicle of this kind becomes a family heirloom,
and is handed down from father to son, and son to grandson, and is
constantly undergoing repair and restoration; a new piece here, another
there, until as little remains of the original structure as of the
sailor’s old knife, when it had had a new blade and a new handle! The
origin of some of the Eskimo sledges is lost in the mists of a remote
antiquity.
The runners are usually shod with ivory from the tusk of the walrus.
The said ivory had likewise been ground flat, and its corners made
square, with stones; and it was fastened to the runner by a string
looped through two counter-sunk holes. The pieces of which it was
composed were numerous; but the surface was wonderfully uniform, and as
smooth as glass.
The runners stood about fourteen inches apart, and were fastened
together by bones, tightly lashed to them; the bones used being the
femur of the bear, the antlers of the reindeer, and the ribs of the
narwhal. Two walrus-ribs, lashed one to the after-end of each runner,
served as upstanders, and were braced by a piece of reindeer antler,
secured across the top.
* * * * *
Having thus disposed of the team and the sledge, we now come to the
equipment.
First, one of the Eskimo hunters spread a piece of seal-skin over the
sledge, fastening it securely by little strings attached to its margin.
On this he placed a small piece of walrus-skin, as a provision for
the dogs; a piece of blubber for fuel; and of meat for his own lunch.
During his absence he would cook no food, but he would want water; and
therefore he carried his _kotluk_, or lamp--namely, a small stone
dish; a lump of _mannek_ or dried moss, designed for the wick;
and some willow-blossoms (_na-owinals_) for tinder. To ignite the
tinder, he had a piece of iron-stone and a small sharp fragment of
flint.
[Illustration: ESKIMO SLEDGE AND TEAM.]
We may follow him on his route, and ascertain the use he makes of these
appliances. When he grows thirsty, he halts; scrapes away the snow
until he lays bare the solid ice beneath; and painfully scoops in it
a small cavity. Next, he fetches a block of fresh-water ice from a
neighbouring berg, lights his lamp, and, using the blubber for fuel,
proceeds to place the block on the edge of the cavity. As it slowly
thaws, the water trickles down into the hole; and when the Eskimo
thinks the quantity collected is sufficient to quench his thirst, he
removes the rude apparatus, and, stooping down, drinks the soot-stained
fluid. If he feels hungry, he breaks off a few chips from his lump of
frozen walrus-beef, cuts a few slices from the blubber, and enjoys his
unsatisfactory meal. The inhabitant of the Arctic desert knows nothing
of epicurean tastes; and if he did, he has no means of gratifying them.
* * * * *
To return to the equipment. The hunter carried with him an extra pair
of boots, another of dog-skin stockings, and another of mittens, to be
used in case he should be unfortunate enough to get on thin ice, and
the ice should break through.
The entire equipment being placed upon the sledge, he threw over them a
piece of bear-skin, which was doubled, so that, when opened, it would
be large enough to wrap about his body and protect it from the snow,
if he wished to lie down and rest. Then he drew forth a long line,
fastened an end of it through a hole in the fore part of one of the
runners, ran it across diagonally to the opposite runner, passed it
through a hole there, and so continued, to and fro, from side to side,
until he reached the other end of the sledge. There he made fast the
line, and thus the cargo was secured against all risk of loss from an
upset. Next he hung to one upstander a coil of heavy line, and to the
other a lighter coil, tying them fast with a small string. The former
was his harpoon-line for catching walrus; the latter, for catching
seal. His harpoon staff was made from the tusk of the narwhal; measured
five feet in length, and two inches in diameter at one end, tapering to
a point at the other.
All being ready, the team, consisting of seven dogs, was brought up.
The harness was of a very primitive description. It consisted of two
doubled strips of bear-skin, one of which was placed on either side
of the animal’s body, the two being fastened together on the top of
the neck and at the breast, so as to form a collar. Thence they passed
inside of the dog’s fore legs and up along his flanks to the tail,
where the four ends meeting together were attached to a trace eighteen
feet in length.
The trace was connected with the sledge by a line four feet long, of
which one end was attached to each runner. And to the middle of the
line a stout string was fastened, running-through bone rings at the
ends of the traces, and secured by a slip-knot, easily untied--an
arrangement designed with the view of ensuring safety in bear-hunting.
The bear is hotly pursued until the sledge arrives within about fifty
yards; the hunter then leans forward and slips the knot; the dogs, set
loose from the sledge, quickly bring the brute to bay. If the knot gets
fouled, serious accidents are not unlikely to occur. The hunter vainly
endeavours to extricate it, and before he can draw his knife to cut
it--supposing he is fortunate enough to have such an instrument--man,
and dogs, and sledge are all among the bear’s legs, in a huddled and
tangled heap, and at the mercy of the enraged monster.
The dogs were cold, and eager to start. In a moment they were yoked
to the sledge; the hunter with his right hand threw out the coils
of his long whip-lash, with his left he seized an upstander, and
propelling the sledge a few paces, he uttered at the same moment the
shrill starting-cry, “Ka! ka!--ka! ka!” which sent the dogs in a
bound to their places, and away they dashed over the rugged ice. The
hunter skilfully guided his sledge among the hummocks, moderating the
impetuosity of his team with the nasal “Ay! ay!” which they perfectly
understand. On reaching the smooth ice, he dropped upon the sledge,
allowed his whip-lash to trail after him on the snow, shouted “Ka!
ka!--ka! ka!” to his savage team, and disappeared in as wild a gallop
as ever was taken by the demon huntsman of German legend!
* * * * *
It does not appear that the Eskimos have magistrates or laws, yet the
utmost good order prevails in their communities, and quarrels are
rare. When these do occur, one or other of the dissatisfied parties
collects his little store, and migrates to a different settlement. The
constitution of their society is rightly described as patriarchal, but
the ruler does not seem to be elected: he attains his post by proving
his possession of superior strength, address, and courage. As soon
as his physical powers give way, or old age enfeebles his mind, he
deposes himself, takes his seat in the _oomiak_, or woman’s boat,
and is relegated by common consent to female companionship. Like all
savage tribes, the Eskimos have their mystery-men, or _angekoks_,
who resort to the usual deceptions to acquire and retain supremacy,
swallowing knives, resorting to ventriloquial artifices, and conversing
in a mysterious jargon, unintelligible to “the common herd.” They
profess to hold intercourse with certain potent spirits, and to
employ their agency in rewarding or punishing their dupes; and even
the influence of the Christian missionaries has hardly rooted out the
belief in the superstitions originated and fostered by these men.
Notwithstanding the hard conditions of their life, and the dreariness
of the region which they inhabit, the Eskimos are a cheerful people.
They are keenly sensible of the charms of music, though their own
vocalization is inconceivably melancholy; and they are partial to many
rude pastimes, mostly of a gymnastic character.
Their good nature has been praised by many travellers; but they show
the usual inhumanity of the savage towards the aged and infirm.
Weakness is no title to the sympathy of the Eskimo; he respects
strength, but he utterly disregards and cruelly oppresses the feeble.
He is ungrateful towards his benefactors, and in his intercourse with
strangers his fidelity can be relied upon only so long as he knows that
any breach of faith will be severely punished. He does not steal from
his own people, and “Tiglikpok,” “he is a thief,” is a reproach among
the Eskimos as among ourselves; but no shame attaches to him if he robs
the white man, though the latter may have loaded him with favours.
If we add that they display a strong affection for their children, and
that the children are singularly docile and obedient to their parents,
we shall have said enough to assist the reader in forming an accurate
conception of the characteristics of the inhabitants of the Eskimo
Land.