ESQUIMAU HOME-LIFE.
We had, of course, had abundant opportunities to study the habits of
the people among whom we had lived so long. The government among the
Inuit tribes, where they have any at all, is patriarchal, consisting of
advice from the older and more experienced, which is recognized and
complied with by the younger. Parental authority is never strictly
enforced, but the children readily defer to the wishes of their
parents--not only when young, but after reaching man's estate. The old
people are consulted upon all matters of interest. The authority of
parents in their family, and of the chief, or ish-u-mat-tah, in his
tribe, is enforced without fear of punishment or hope of reward.
When a person offends the sentiment of a community, or inflicts injury
upon a neighbor, the matter is talked over among those interested, and
reparation may be demanded in the shape of payment, not in money, for
they have none, or anything that represents it, but in goods, such as a
knife, a sled, a dog, gun, fish-hooks, walrus line, or, indeed,
anything that comes handy. There the matter ends; or, if the offender
declines to settle, the case may be referred to the ish-u-mat-tah, who
will probably insist that payment be made. And yet should the
delinquent still prove contumacious and refuse to pay, the matter rests
there--there is no punishment for his offence. The well-behaved will
talk to the refractory one and say, "ma-muk-poo-now" (no good), but
that is all. Should he be hungry or his family unprovided for, the
others will all assist him just the same as if he did well and obeyed
their laws and customs. He can come into their igloos and chat with
them upon the topics of the day, or join in the meal that is under
discussion, and the stranger would never know but that the utmost
harmony existed among them. If you were one for whom the community had
respect, they might privately inform you that "so and so" was "no
good," but you would never suspect it from their actions toward him.
So it is in the treatment of their children. Punishment for wrong-doing
is almost unheard of, and as for striking a male child, all would
recoil from such a thought with horror. The male child, and especially
the heir, is a prince in his own family circle. Everything is deferred
to his wishes unless he can be persuaded to surrender it. With female
children it is different. They must submit to every act of tyranny on
the part of their brothers at once, or feel the weight of a parent's
hand. Nothing would seem more abhorrent to an Esquimau mind than the
thought of striking a man or boy; but to strike a woman or girl is, on
the contrary, quite proper, and, indeed, laudable. And when one of
those powerful savages strikes his wife it is no gentle love tap, but a
blow that might stagger a pugilist. I remember once seeing an Esquimau
for whom I entertained the greatest respect, strike his gentle and
affectionate young wife, the mother of two fine children. He struck her
upon the head with an an-out-ah (a stick made for beating the snow off
of fur clothing, and in form and weight like a policeman's club). Two
blows fell in quick succession upon that devoted head, and made the
igloo ring again. I was undressed and in my sleeping bag at the time,
but it was with the greatest difficulty that I could restrain myself
from jumping up and interfering to prevent the outrage. It required all
the nerve I could muster. I thought I would never respect my friend
again; but after a while I began to look upon it more calmly, and in
the light of his early training and daily experience for years and
years I thought better of him, though not of the act.
They say it is a proper thing to whip women, "it makes them good," and
they might add, "it is so perfectly safe". I have often talked with
them about it and tried to explain that it was regarded by white people
as cowardly to strike a defenceless creature, but this was utterly
beyond their comprehension. They could understand that it would be
wrong to strike a male, but a female--that was an entirely different
thing. Their system of government in regard to both families and
communities seems to produce good results. Children are obedient and
attentive to their parents, either natural or adopted, and there is but
little occasion for governmental interference in the concerns of the
people.
Whenever difference of opinion gives rise to difficulty and their
intercourse, their usual method of settling the dispute is for those
immediately concerned to assemble in some igloo, with several of the
old men, and talk the matter over until some definite plan of
settlement is reached. This usually proves effectual. I have seen
several of these talks, and though I could not understand much of what
was said, unless I knew beforehand about what it would be, I could see
that the spirit of conciliation manifested itself. All seemed disposed
to do what was right, not from fear of punishment for doing wrong, but
simply because it was right. They are not given to ceremony on such
occasions, or, in fact, upon any other occasion. All the women retire
from the igloo or tupic where the talk is to be held when the men come
in. Then some raw meat is produced, if there is any to be had, and
after eating pipes are lighted and the subject for discussion is
approached, conversation gradually drifting in that direction.
Esquimaux never do anything in a hurry, and these long-winded
roundabout chats are exceedingly congenial to their tastes. So imbued
do they become with this idea that even "Joe," notwithstanding his long
residence with civilized people, could not shake it off.
For instance, Lieutenant Schwatka would say:--"'Joe,' I wish you would
tell the hunters that for the present they must save the saddles of the
reindeer they kill to go upon the sleds, and feed the remainder of the
carcasses to the dogs." "Joe" would invariably say, "Yes, to-night we
will all get together and talk it over." "There is no necessity for
talking it over, 'Joe;' just tell them what I say." But, nevertheless,
"Joe" would have his powwow, and his feed and his smoke, even upon less
important matters than the one mentioned in illustration.
The Esquimaux are polygamists, no distinction whatever being placed
upon the number of wives a man shall have. I have never, however, known
of any instance of one having more than two at a time. This is very
common, however, especially among the Iwilliks and Kinnepatoos, where
there is a surplus of women. At least half of their married men have
two wives. Every woman is married as soon as she arrives at a
marriageable age, and whenever a man dies his wife is taken by some one
else, so that with them old maids and widows are unknown.
Instances of polygamy are not so common among the Netchillik nation,
for the reason, it is said by the tribes in their vicinity, that they
have a custom that prevents the accumulation of women to be taken care
of. Their neighbors say that they kill their female babes as soon as
born. The first is usually allowed to live, and one other may stand
some chance, but that ends the matter. I cannot vouch for the truth of
the assertion from my personal knowledge. I can only say that there
were more unmarried young men among the Netchilliks and Ookjooliks whom
we met than in any other tribe, and but few men with two wives. Among
the children there were plenty of boys and but few girls. I understand
that the mothers often would be willing to rear their daughters; but
the fathers, who have supreme control in their families, insist upon
getting rid of useless mouths and choke their infant babes to death,
the mothers readily acquiescing. Equeesik, one of our hunters on the
sledge journey, who is himself a Netchillik, denies this charge of
female Herodism. He told me that it used to be the custom with his
people, or some of them at any rate, but that they do not do so any
more. I know he has two daughters, one of which was born within a few
days' march of Depot Island, on our return trip, and has no son.
The custom of giving away their children is very common among all
tribes, and a young wife who loses her first-born has seldom any
difficulty in getting a substitute from some one better supplied.
Infants are never weaned. I have seen children four and five years old
playing, out doors, stop once in a while to run in to their mothers,
and cry until they received their milk.
There is very little regard for life manifested by any of the
Esquimaux. Several instances of sudden and strange deaths occurred
among the infant children at Depot Island and vicinity while we were
encamped there. If it were a male child that died, it occasioned some
regret, but if it were a female it was considered all right. Even if it
were well known that an Inuit had murdered his child, or had killed any
one else in cold blood, nothing would be done about it, except that the
relatives of a murdered man would probably ask to be paid for the
slaughter, and if the request were complied with, that would set the
matter at rest. Should it not be complied with, the probability is that
the sons or brothers of the victim would embrace some opportunity to
kill the murderer and give rise for a demand of payment from the family
of the slain murderer, and in case of non-fulfilment a vendetta be
established, as is the case now in the tribe that dwells on the coast
of Baffin's Bay, near the entrance to Eclipse Sound.
Just before we left Depot Island, in the summer of 1880, there arrived
several families from that section of the Arctic, who came, I as
informed, to get rid of the vendetta. It seems that the present cause
of trouble was a young man, quite small in stature, but very active and
energetic, of whom the refugees were very much afraid. Some of their
relatives had killed this young man's father, and when they refused to
pay for it he took occasion to kill the murderer, for which, as is the
custom, they in turn demanded payment. He refused satisfaction, and one
night about a year ago some of these people went to his igloo while the
family were in bed, and through a small hole that had melted through
the snow, they pointed a rifle, and, as they supposed, killed their
enemy, of whom they were so much afraid. Unfortunately for them they
found they had made a mistake, as instead of killing him they had
killed his oldest son, who lay alongside of him in bed. The father said
nothing, but reached for his gun, which he had always convenient for an
emergency, and shortly after the shot was fired, when the murderer
returned to peep through the hole and see the effect of his aim, the
father shot him dead. Then it was that the remaining members of the
family found that this business was getting to be a nuisance and
concluded to leave. As they told me when speaking of the matter, "So
much shooting is no good."
Their method of carrying on this sort of warfare is not at all like the
duello of Christendom. They don't stand up and fight it out, facing
each other; but, on the contrary, appear to be good friends all the
time, until the aggrieved one finds what he considers to be the
propitious moment, and acts accordingly. They never do anything on the
spur of the moment. It takes them a long time to make up their minds,
and whatever they do they do deliberately. The rapid and just
retribution that followed the killing of the child alluded to in this
illustration is the only instance of the kind I know of, though I know
of a number where a few weeks or years intervened, the enemies
associating like the others and eating in common.
There are no wedding ceremonies among the Esquimaux, and hardly
anything like sentiment is known. The relation of man and wife is
purely a matter of convenience. The woman requires food, and the man
needs some one to make his clothing and to take charge of his dwelling
while he is hunting. Marriages are usually contracted while the
interested parties are children. The father of the boy selects a little
girl who is to be his daughter-in-law, and pays her father something.
Perhaps it is a snow-knife, or a sled, or a dog, or now, that many of
them are armed with firelocks, the price paid may be a handful of
powder and a dozen percussion caps. The children are then affianced,
and when arrived at a proper age they live together. The wife then has
her face tattooed with lamp-black and is regarded as a matron in
society. The method of tattooing is to pass a needle under the skin,
and as soon as it is withdrawn its course is followed by a thin piece
of pine stick dipped in oil and rubbed in the soot from the bottom of a
kettle. The forehead is decorated with a letter V in double lines, the
angle very acute, passing down between the eyes almost to the bridge of
the nose, and sloping gracefully to the right and left before reaching
the roots of the hair. Each cheek is adorned with an egg-shaped
pattern, commencing near the wing of the nose and sloping upward toward
the corner of the eye; these lines are also double. The most ornamented
part, however, is the chin, which receives a gridiron pattern; the
lines double from the edge of the lower lip, and reaching to the throat
toward the corners of the mouth, sloping outward to the angle of the
lower jaw. This is all that is required by custom, but some of the
belles do not stop here. Their hands, arms, legs, feet, and in fact
their whole bodies are covered with blue tracery that would throw
Captain Constantinus completely in the shade. Ionic columns, Corinthian
capitals, together with Gothic structures of every kind, are erected
wherever there is an opportunity to place them; but I never saw any
attempt at figure or animal drawing for personal decoration. The forms
are generally geometrical in design and symmetrical in arrangement,
each limb receiving the same ornamentation as its fellow. None of the
men are tattooed.
Some tribes are more profuse in this sort of decoration than others.
The Iwillik, and Kinnepatoos are similar, and as I have described; but
the Netchillik, Ookjoolik, and Ooqueesiksillik women have the designs
upon their faces constructed with three lines instead of two, one of
them being broader than the others. The pattern is the same as that of
the Iwilliks and Kinnepatoos, with the addition of an olive branch at
the outside corners of the eyes and mouth.
Marriage with them is not the sacred institution of civilization, but
exchanges are very common. If a man who is going on a journey has a
wife encumbered with a child that would make travelling unpleasant, he
exchanges wives with some friend who remains in camp and has no such
inconvenience. Sometimes a man will want a younger wife to travel with,
and in that case effects an exchange, and sometimes such exchanges are
made for no especial reason, and among friends it is a usual thing to
exchange wives for a week or two about every two months. Unmarried men
who are going on a journey have no difficulty in borrowing a wife for
the time being, and sometimes purchase the better half altogether.
It might be supposed that in such a state of society there would be no
romances, no marrying for love; but that would be a mistake, for there
have been several romantic little episodes that came under my
observation during my residence in North Hudson's Bay. There is a poor
old man dwelling with the Iwilliks, near Depot Island, named Iteguark,
who had two very attractive and useful wives, or Nu-lee-aug-ar, as is
the native term. The old man had been a good hunter, but a few years
ago met with an accident that resulted in his right knee becoming
stiffened, and his hunting days were over. He can still hunt seals
through the ice, but cannot work up to them on top of the ice, nor can
he chase the reindeer and musk-ox on his native hills. Then it was that
Oxeomadiddlee looked with envious eyes upon the youngest and fairest of
Iteguark's wives, and induced her to come and live with him. She knew
that her new lover was strong and active, and better able to support
her than her old love, and listened to the voice of the tempter.
Iteguark was not disposed to submit meekly to this treachery on the
part of his friend Oxeomadiddlee, so one morning while the truant wife
and her new husband were sleeping in their igloo, Iteguark entered and
sought to take the life of the seducer with a hunting knife. But
Oxeomadiddlee was on his guard, and being a man of immense strength, he
caught his adversary by the wrist, and by the sheer force of his grip
compelled him to drop the weapon on the floor. He then released his
hold, and Iteguark rushed out to his own igloo and got his bow and
quiver; but his enemy was still watchful, and took the bow and arrows
away and destroyed them. Here ended hostilities. Oxeomadiddlee paid the
old man for his wife, and that settled it forever. Presently another
Inuit, named Eyerloo, fell desperately in love with poor old Iteguark's
remaining wife, and with his arts and blandishments won her away from
her husband. There was no fight this time. The poor old man gave up
completely, and said the world was all wrong, and he only waited for
his summons to leave it and mount the golden stairs.
A few years ago an Igloolip Inuit named Kyack won the affections of one
of Ikomar's wives and this brought on a duel in which Kyack came very
near leaving Mrs. Kyack a widow. Ikomar got the head of his enemy in
chancery, and tightened his arm around his neck until Kyack dropped
lifeless upon the snow. He gradually recovered, and would have returned
the stolen wife, but Ikomar refused to take her back, and demanded
payment instead. This was tendered to him, and being appeased by the
offer further trouble was avoided.
Punnie, one of Armow's daughters, was, in her youth, affianced to
Sebeucktelee, but when she reached a marriageable age became the wife
of Conwechungk, her adopted brother. The pretext for this new
arrangement was that Sebeucktelee's father had not made payment at the
time he made the wedding contract, and that Punnie loved Conwechungk
better anyhow, and would take advantage of the omission of the
intended father-in-law. It made no difference that Conwechungk had
another wife--in fact, it was all the better on that account, for he
would have one for himself and another to loan around to his neighbors.
When I left Depot Island I noticed that he had not only loaned his
first wife away, but had traded his dearly beloved Punnie for
Tockoleegeetais' wife for an indefinite period, while Sebeucktelee had
taken to his bosom Netchuk, the discarded wife of Shockpenark. But life
is altogether too short to allow of a complete and reliable record
being made of the social gossip of an Esquimau village. Intermarriages
are common, and everybody is related to every one else in the most
intricate and astonishing manner. I once read of a man who married a
widow, and his father, subsequently marrying the daughter of this same
widow, was driven insane by trying to ascertain the exact relationship
of their children. Such trifles have no effect upon the Inuit brain, or
the entire nation would long ago have become raving maniacs.
The natives of Hudson's Strait dress very much like the others, the
difference being in the women's hoods, which, instead of being long and
narrow, are long and wide, and provided with a drawing string. Instead
of the long stockings, they wear a pair of leggings that reach about
half-way up the thigh, and trousers that are much shorter than those of
the western tribes. The Kinnepatoos are by all odds the most tasteful
in their dress, and their clothing is made of skins more carefully
prepared and better sewed than that of the others, except in occasional
instances.
The bedding of all these Esquimaux is made of reindeer-skins--thick
untanned skins of the buck forming what corresponds with the
mattresses, and a blanket to cover them is made of well-tanned
doe-skins, sewn together so as to be wide at the top and narrowing
into a bag at the feet. All sleep naked, winter and summer, a single
blanket formed of three doe-skins covering a father, mother, and all
the children.
[Illustration: ESQUIMAUX BUILDING A HUT.]
It would astonish a civilized spectator to see how many people can be
stowed away to sleep in one small igloo and under one blanket; but the
proverbial illustration of a box of sardines would almost represent a
skirmish line in comparison. Each one is rolled up into a little ball,
or else arms, legs and bodies are so inextricably interwoven, that it
would be impossible for any but the owners to unravel them. And these
bodies are like so many little ovens, so that, no matter how cold it
be, when once within the igloo, the snow-block door put up and chinked,
and all stowed away in bed, Jack Frost can be successfully defied.
As probably many people know, an igloo is usually built of snow. The
word, however, means house, and as their houses consist of a single
room, it also means room. Sometimes at points that are regularly
occupied during the winter months igloos are built of stones, and moss
piled up around and over them, so that when covered by the winter snows
they make very comfortable dwellings. This is the case at Igloolik,
which means the place of igloos, and also near Tulloch Point, on King
William Land, where the ruins of these underground houses were quite
numerous. They had been built a great many years ago by the Ookjooliks,
when they occupied the land before the Netchillik invasion. A long, low
passage-way leads into each dwelling, so constructed as to exclude the
wind from the interior, though ventilation is permitted by leaving open
the door. This, by the way, is an Inuit custom. Even in the coldest
weather the door is open, except when the occupants are asleep, and it
is only closed then to keep the dogs from making a raid on the igloo.
If the door faces the wind, a shelter is erected outside to cut off the
wind, so that the door need not be closed. The coldest day I ever saw,
when the thermometer was seventy-one degrees below zero, the door of
our igloo was open all the time we were not asleep. A snow igloo is
made of snow-blocks about three feet long by eighteen inches wide and
five or six inches thick.
[Illustration: SECTION AND PLAN OF ESQUIMAU HUT.]
The snow-knife is simply a large thin-bladed knife, like a cheese-knife
of the grocery stores, with a handle made large enough to be
conveniently grasped with both hands. Before iron and knives became so
plentiful as at present, snow-knives were made of bone and reindeer or
musk-ox horn, but such knives are quite rare now. The Netchillik,
Ookjoolik, and Ooqueesiksillik tribes are still quite deficient in iron
weapons and implements, and many of their knives are marvels of
ingenuity. I saw several made of a little tip of iron, perhaps an inch
square, mounted on a handle two feet long, and so shaped that the iron
would do most of the cutting and scratching, and the handle acted
merely as a wedge to assist the operation. I also saw a man making a
knife by cutting a thick piece of iron with a cold chisel, afterward to
be pounded out flat and ground down on stones. The entire operation
would probably take about three or four weeks with the poor tools at
their disposal.
The builder selects snow of the proper consistency by sounding a drift
with a cane, made for the purpose, of reindeer horn, straightened by
steaming, and worked down until about half an inch in diameter, with a
ferule of walrus tusk or the tooth of a bear on the bottom. By
thrusting this into the snow he can tell whether the layers deposited
by successive winds are separated by bands of soft snow, which would
cause the blocks to break. When the snow is selected, he digs a pit to
the depth of eighteen inches or two feet, and about the length of the
snow-block. He then steps down into the pit and proceeds to cut out the
blocks by first cutting down at the ends of the pit, and then the
bottom afterward, cutting a little channel about an inch or two deep,
marking the thickness of the proposed block.
Now comes the part that requires practice to accomplish successfully.
The expert will, with a few thrusts of his knife in just the right
places, split off the snow-block and lift it carefully out to await
removal to its position on the wall. The tyro will almost inevitably
break the block into two or three pieces, utterly unfit for the use of
the builder. When two men are building an igloo, one cuts the blocks
and the other erects the walls. When sufficient blocks have been cut
out to commence work with, the builder marks with his eye, or perhaps
draws a line with his knife describing the circumference of the
building, usually a circle about ten or twelve feet in diameter. The
first row of blocks is then arranged, the blocks placed so as to
incline inward and resting against each other at the ends, thus
affording mutual support. When this row is completed the builder cuts
away the first and second blocks, slanting them from the ground upward,
so that the second tier resting upon the edges of the first row can be
continued on and around spirally, and by gradually increasing the
inward slant a perfect dome is constructed of such strength that the
builder can lie flat on the outside while chinking the interstices
between the blocks. The chinking is, however, usually done by the women
and children as the building progresses, and additional protection
secured from the winds in very cold weather by banking up a large
wooden snow shovel, the snow at the base often being piled to the depth
of three or four feet. This makes the igloo perfectly impervious to the
wind in the most tempestuous weather. When the house is completed, the
builders are walled in. Then a small hole about two feet square is cut
in the wall, on the side away from where the entrance is to be located,
and is used to pass in the lamps and bedding. It is then walled up and
the regular door cut, about two feet high, and nitched at the top. It
would bring bad luck to carry the bedding into the igloo by the same
door it would be taken out. Before the door is opened the bed is
constructed, of snow-blocks, and made from one to three or four feet
high, and occupies about three-fourths of the entire space. The higher
the bed and the lower the door, the warmer the igloo will be.
The house being built, passes into the care of the women, who arrange
the beds and put up the lamps for lighting, warming, and cooking. The
woman's place in the igloo is on either side of the bed, and next to
the wall. In front of her she arranges her lamp, which is a long,
shallow basin of soapstone, the front edge straight and the back
describing an arc. The wick, which is composed of pulverized moss, is
arranged along the front edge, and kept moistened by the oil that fills
the lamp by tilting it forward--the lamp being delicately poised, with
this end in view, upon three sticks driven into the snow beneath it.
If there be two women, they occupy both ends of the bed, each with
her lamp in front of her. Over each lamp is constructed a frame upon
which to dry stockings that have become moistened by perspiration
during the day's exercise, and from which depends the kettle for
melting snow or ice to make water or to cook. The distinctive
Esquimau kettle (oo-quee'-sik) is made of soapstone and is flat
bottomed. It is made long and narrow, so as to fit the flame of the
lamp, and to derive all the benefit possible therefrom. It has the
advantage over the iron and copper kettles, that have come into use
through trade with the whalemen and Hudson Bay Company's posts, of
cooking more rapidly and of not being injured if left over the flame
without water.
[Illustration: ESQUIMAU WOMAN COOKING.]
It is the duty of the women to attend constantly to the lamps, to melt
water for drinking and cooking, and to cook the food. They also turn
the wet shoes and stockings inside out and dry them at night. A "good
wife" is one who sleeps but little after a hard day's march, but
attends constantly to the articles upon the drying frame, turning them
over and replacing the dry with wet. When one frame full of clothing
has been dried, she places the articles under her in the bed, so that
the heat of her body will keep them warm and dry, and replaces them
upon the frame with other articles. She gets up long before any one
else is awake and looks carefully over all the clothing to see what
mending is required. Her position, when not asleep, is with her bare
feet bent under her in Turkish fashion, and there she sits all day long
before her fire, engaged in making clothing, cooking, or other
household duties, and is seldom idle. When at work she lifts up her
voice and sings. The tune lacks melody but not power. It is a relief to
her weary soul, and few would be cruel enough to deprive her of that
comfort, for her pleasures are not many. She is the slave of her
children and her husband, and is treated to more abuse than affection.