Eskimo Life
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Title: Eskimo Life
Author: Fridtjof Nansen
Illustrator: Otto Ludvig Sinding
Translator: William Archer
Release date: September 26, 2014 [eBook #46972]
Most recently updated: October 24, 2024
Language: English
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ESKIMO LIFE ***
Transcriber's Notes: Italic text is marked _thus_; bold text is shown
=thus=. *+* represents inverted asterism. Apparent typographical
errors have been corrected and hyphenation standardised except where
the meaning would be affected e.g. 're-cover'. s. and d. (currency)
italicised for consistency. Original accentuation has been retained.
Original spelling has been retained with these exceptions; secresy to
secrecy, song-writting to song-writers, Rosetti to Rossetti, translater
to translator.
In Footnote 125, thjódsogur in the original was thjóds[=o]g[)u]r, where:
th represents the 'THORN' character
d represents the 'eth' character
[=o] represents lower case 'o' with macron
[)u] represents lower case 'u' with breve.
ESKIMO LIFE
BY THE SAME AUTHOR
THE FIRST CROSSING OF GREENLAND
_With numerous Illustrations and a Map_
Cheap Edition. Crown 8vo. 7_s._ 6_d._
London: LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO. and NEW YORK: 15 EAST 16th STREET
[Illustration: A HUNTER, HIS WIFE, AND A YOUNG GIRL (WEST COAST OF
GREENLAND)]
ESKIMO LIFE
BY
FRIDTJOF NANSEN
AUTHOR OF 'THE FIRST CROSSING OF GREENLAND'
TRANSLATED BY WILLIAM ARCHER
_WITH ILLUSTRATIONS_
LONDON LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO. AND NEW YORK: 15 EAST 16th STREET 1893
TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE.
Before placing his 'Eskimoliv' in my hands for translation, Dr.
Nansen very carefully revised the text, and made numerous excisions
and additions. Thus the following pages will be found to differ in
several particulars from the Norwegian original. I also requested and
received Dr. Nansen's permission to suppress one or two especially
nauseous details of Eskimo manners, which seemed to have no particular
ethnological significance. The excisions made on this score, however,
probably do not amount to half a page in all.
Dr. Nansen suggested that I should follow the example of Dr. Rink in
his 'Tales and Traditions of the Eskimo,' and treat the word 'Eskimo'
as indeclinable. I have ventured, however, to overrule his suggestion.
There is precedent for both 'Eskimo' and 'Eskimos' as the plural form;
and where there is any choice at all, it seems only rational to prefer
the regular declension.
In Chapters XIII. and XIV. Dr. Nansen naturally makes numerous
references to that great storehouse of Greenland folk-lore, Dr. Rink's
'Eskimo Sagn og Eventyr,' which has been translated and condensed by the
author himself, under the above-mentioned title. Where it was possible,
I have given the reference to the English edition; but in cases where
the text has been very freely condensed or expurgated, I have referred
to the Danish original as well. Even where I have not done so, students
of folk-lore may be advised to go back to the original text, which is
often fuller and more characteristic than the English version.
W. A.
AUTHOR'S PREFACE.
For one whole winter we were cut off from the world and immured among
the Greenlanders. I dwelt in their huts, took part in their hunting, and
tried, as well as I could, to live their life and learn their language.
But one winter, unfortunately, is far too short a time in which to
attain a thorough knowledge of so peculiar a people, its civilisation,
and its ways of thought--that would require years of patient study.
Nevertheless, I have tried in this book to record the impressions
made upon me by the Eskimo and his polity, and have sought, as far as
possible, to support them by quotations from former authors. There may
even be things which a newcomer sees more clearly than an observer of
many years' standing, who lives in their midst.
On many points, perhaps, the reader may not think as I do. I cannot, it
is true, find that whatever is is very good; I am weak enough to feel
compassion for a declining race, which is perhaps beyond all help, since
it is already stung with the venom of our civilisation. But I comfort
myself with the thought that at least no words of mine can make the lot
of this people worse than it is, and I hope that the reader will accept
my observations in the spirit in which they are written. _Amicus Plato,
amicus Socrates, magis amica veritas_--the truth before everything.
And if in some points I should appear unreasonable, I must plead as my
excuse that it is scarcely possible to live for any time among these
people without conceiving an affection for them--for that, one winter is
more than enough.
During the long, dark evenings, as I sat in the low earth-huts and
gazed at the flame of the train-oil lamps, I had ample time for
reflection. It often seemed to me that I could see these hardy children
of Nature pressing westward, stage by stage, in their dog-sledges and
in their wonderful skin-canoes, along the barren ice-coasts; I saw how
they fought their way onward, and, little by little, perfected their
ingenious implements and attained their masterly skill in the chase.
Hundreds, nay thousands, of years passed, tribe after tribe succumbed,
while other and stronger stocks survived--and I was filled with
admiration for a people which had emerged victorious from the struggle
with such inhospitable natural surroundings.
But in melancholy contrast to this inspiriting picture of the past, the
present and the future rose before my eyes--a sad, a hopeless mist.
In Greenland the Eskimos fell in with Europeans. First it was our
Norwegian forefathers of the olden times; them they gradually overcame.
But we returned to the charge, this time bringing with us Christianity
and the products of civilisation; then they succumbed, and are sinking
ever lower and lower. The world passes on with a pitying shrug of the
shoulders.
'What more can one say? Who's a penny the worse
Though a beggar be dead?'
But this people, too, has its feelings, like others; it, too, rejoices
in life and Nature, and bleeds under our iron heel. If anyone doubts
this, let him observe their sympathy with one another, and their love
for their children; or let him read their legends.
Whenever I saw instances of the suffering and misery which we have
brought upon them, that remnant of a sense of justice which is still to
be found in most of us stirred me to indignation, and I was filled with
a burning desire to send the truth reverberating over the whole world.
Were it once brought home to them, I thought, people could not but
awaken from their indifference, and at once make good the wrong they had
done.
Poor dreamer! You have nothing to say which has not been better said
before. The hapless lot of the Greenlanders, as well as of other
'native' races, has been set forth on many hands, and always without
avail.
But, none the less, I felt I must unburden my conscience; it seemed
to me a sacred duty to add my protest to the rest. My pen, unhappily,
is all too feeble: what I feel most deeply I have failed to express:
never have I longed more intensely for a poet's gifts. I know very well
that my voice, too, will be as a cry sent forth over a flat expanse
of desert, without even mountains to echo it back. My only hope is to
awaken here and there a feeling of sympathy with the Eskimos and of
sorrow for their destiny.
FRIDTJOF NANSEN.
GODTHAAB, LYSAKER: _November 1891_.
CONTENTS.
CHAP. PAGE
I. GREENLAND AND THE ESKIMO 1
II. APPEARANCE AND DRESS 18
III. THE 'KAIAK' AND ITS APPURTENANCES 30
IV. THE ESKIMO AT SEA 56
V. WINTER-HOUSES, TENTS, WOMAN-BOATS, AND EXCURSIONS 78
VI. COOKERY AND DAINTIES 89
VII. CHARACTER AND SOCIAL CONDITIONS 100
VIII. THE POSITION AND WORK OF WOMEN 121
IX. LOVE AND MARRIAGE 138
X. MORALS 157
XI. JUDICIAL PROCEEDINGS--DRUM-DANCES AND ENTERTAINMENTS 186
XII. MENTAL GIFTS--ART--MUSIC--POETRY--ESKIMO NARRATIVES 193
XIII. RELIGIOUS IDEAS 209
XIV. THE INTRODUCTION OF CHRISTIANITY 301
XV. EUROPEANS AND NATIVES 313
XVI. WHAT HAVE WE ACHIEVED? 327
XVII. CONCLUSION 341
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
_PLATES._
A HUNTER, HIS WIFE, AND A YOUNG GIRL (WEST
COAST OF GREENLAND) _Frontispiece_
'THE BOUNDLESS SNOW-FIELDS STRETCHING CALM
AND WHITE FROM SEA TO SEA' _to face page_ 2
COVERING A KAIAK " " 32
'THE HEAD TURNED HALF BACKWARDS TO WATCH
THE SEAS' " " 58
SEAWARD IN SEARCH OF SEALS " " 60
SEAL-HUNTING " " 62
BEFORE THE WIND " " 66
A KAIAK-MAN RESCUING A COMRADE " " 68
A KAIAK-MAN ATTACKED BY A WALRUS " " 74
HALIBUT-FISHING " " 76
AN ESKIMO CAMP " " 84
A SUMMER JOURNEY " " 86
FISHING " " 114
A GREENLAND DANCE " " 190
A FIORD LANDSCAPE ON THE EAST COAST (AT TINGMIARMIUT) " " 328
NORTHERN LIGHTS--'THE DEAD AT PLAY' " " 348
_WOODCUTS IN THE TEXT._
PAGE
GREENLAND INDOOR DRESS (EAST COAST)--(1) Male Costume;
(2) Female Costume 26
BLADDER-DART 34
HARPOON 36
THE HEAD OF THE HARPOON 37
LANCE 39
THROWING-STICK WITH BIRD-DART 40
THE BIRD-DART THROWN 42
THROWING-STICK WITH HARPOON 43
KAIAK, SEEN FROM ABOVE 44
KAIAK-FRAME 44
SECTION OF THE KAIAK 47
PADDLE 49
HALF-JACKET 50
WHOLE-JACKET 50
ESKIMO VENUS AND APOLLO 199
ESKIMO LIFE
CHAPTER I
GREENLAND AND THE ESKIMO
Greenland is in a peculiar manner associated with Norway and with the
Norwegians. Our forefathers were the first Europeans who found their way
to its shores. In their open vessels the old Vikings made their daring
voyages, through tempests and drift-ice, to this distant land of snows,
settled there throughout several centuries, and added it to the domain
of the Norwegian crown.
After the memory of its existence had practically passed away, it was
again one of our countrymen[1] who, on behalf of a Norwegian company,
founded the second European settlement of the country.
It is poor, this land of the Eskimo, which we have taken from him; it
has neither timber nor gold to offer us--it is naked, lonely, like no
other land inhabited of man. But in all its naked poverty, how beautiful
it is! If Norway is glorious, Greenland is in truth no less so. When one
has once seen it, how dear to him is its recollection! I do not know if
others feel as I do, but for me it is touched with all the dream-like
beauty of the fairyland of my childish imagination. It seems as though
I there found our own Norwegian scenery repeated in still nobler, purer
forms.
It is strong and wild, this Nature, like a saga of antiquity carven in
ice and stone, yet with moods of lyric delicacy and refinement. It is
like cold steel with the shimmering colours of a sunlit cloud playing
through it.
When I see glaciers and ice-mountains, my thoughts fly to Greenland
where the glaciers are vaster than anywhere else, where the
ice-mountains jut into a sea covered with icebergs and drift-ice. When
I hear loud encomiums on the progress of our society, its great men
and their great deeds, my thoughts revert to the boundless snow-fields
stretching white and serene in an unbroken sweep from sea to sea, high
over what have once been fruitful valleys and mountains. Some day,
perhaps, a similar snow-field will cover us all.
[Illustration: 'THE BOUNDLESS SNOW-FIELDS STRETCHING CALM AND WHITE FROM
SEA TO SEA']
Everything in Greenland is simple and great--white snow, blue ice,
naked, black rocks and peaks, and dark stormy sea. When I see the sun
sink glowing into the waves, it recalls to me the Greenland sunsets,
with the islets and rocks floating, as it were, on the burnished
surface of the smooth, softly-heaving sea, while inland the peaks rise
row on row, flushing in the evening light. And sometimes when I see
the sæter-life[2] at home and watch the sæter-girls and the grazing
cows, I think of the tent-life and the reindeer-herds on the Greenland
fiords and uplands; I think of the screaming ptarmigan, the moors and
willow-copses, the lakes and valleys in among the mountains where the
Eskimo lives through his brief summer.
But like nothing else is the Greenland winter-night with its flaming
northern lights; it is Nature's own mystic spirit-dance.
Strange is the power which this land exercises over the mind; but the
race that inhabits it is not less remarkable than the land itself.
The Eskimo, more than anyone else, belongs to the coast and the sea. He
dwells by the sea, upon it he seeks his subsistence, it gives him all
the necessaries of his life, over it he makes all his journeys, whether
in his skin-canoes in summer, or in his dog-sledges when it is ice-bound
in winter. The sea is thus the strongest influence in the life of the
Eskimo; what wonder, then, if his soul reflects its moods? His mind
changes with the sea--grave in the storm; in sunshine and calm full of
unfettered glee. He is a child of the sea, thoughtlessly gay like the
playful wavelet, but sometimes dark as the foaming tempest. One feeling
chases another from his childlike mind as rapidly as, when the storm
has died down, the billows sink to rest, and the very memory of it has
passed away.
The good things of life are very unequally divided in this world. To
some existence is so easy that they need only plant a bread-fruit tree
in their youth, and their whole life is provided for. Others, again,
seem to be denied everything except the strength to battle for life;
they must laboriously wring from hostile Nature every mouthful of their
sustenance. They are sent forth to the outposts, these people; they form
the wings of the great army of humanity in its constant struggle for the
subjugation of nature.
Such a people are the Eskimos, and among the most remarkable in
existence. They are a living proof of the rare faculty of the human
being for adapting himself to circumstances and spreading over the face
of the earth.
The Eskimo forms the extreme outpost towards the infinite stillness of
the regions of ice, and as far, almost, as we have forced our way to the
northward, we find traces left behind them by this hardy race.
The tracts which all others despise he has made his own. By dint of
constant struggle and slow development, he learnt some things that none
have learnt better. Where for others the conditions which make life
possible came to an end, there life began for him. He has come to love
these regions; they are to him a world in which he himself embodies the
whole of the human race.[3] Outside their limits he could not exist.
It is to this people that the following pages are devoted.
The mutual resemblance of the different tribes of Eskimos is no less
striking than their difference from all other races in features, figure,
implements and weapons, and general manner of life.
A pure-bred Eskimo from Bering Straits is so like a Greenlander that
one cannot for a moment doubt that they belong to the same race. Their
language, too, is so far alike that an Alaska Eskimo and a Greenlander
would probably, after some little time, be able to converse without
much difficulty. Captain Adrian Jacobsen, who has travelled both in
Greenland and in Alaska, told me that in Alaska he could manage to get
along with the few words of Eskimo he had learnt in Greenland. These two
peoples are divided by a distance of about 3,000 miles--something like
the distance between London and Afghanistan. Such unity of speech among
races so widely separated is probably unique in the history of mankind.
The likeness between all the different tribes of Eskimos, as well
as their secluded position with respect to other peoples, and the
perfection of their implements, might be taken to indicate that they
are of a very old race, in which everything has stiffened into definite
forms, which can now be but slowly altered. Other indications, however,
seem to conflict with such a hypothesis, and render it more probable
that the race was originally a small one, which did not until a
comparatively late period develop to the point at which we now find it,
and spread over the countries which it at present inhabits.
If it should seem difficult to understand, at first sight, how they
could have spread in a comparatively short time over these wide tracts
of country without moving in great masses, as in the case of larger
migrations, we need only reflect that their present inhospitable
abiding-places can scarcely have been inhabited, at any rate
permanently, before they took possession of them, and that therefore
they had nothing to contend with except nature itself.
The region now inhabited by the Eskimos stretches from the west coast of
Bering Straits over Alaska, the north coast of North America, the North
American groups of Arctic Islands, the west coast, and, finally, the
east coast, of Greenland.
By reason of his absolutely secluded position, the Eskimo has given the
anthropologists much trouble, and the most contradictory opinions have
been advanced with reference to his origin.
Dr. H. Rink, who has made Greenland and its people the study of his
life, and is beyond comparison the greatest authority on the subject,
holds that the Eskimo implements and weapons--at any rate, for the
greater part--may be traced to America. He regards it as probable that
the Eskimos were once a race dwelling in the interior of Alaska, where
there are still a considerable number of inland Eskimos, and that they
have migrated thence to the coasts of the ice-sea. He further maintains
that their speech is most closely connected with the primitive dialects
of America, and that their legends and customs recall those of the
Indians.
One point among others, however, in which the Eskimos differ from the
Indians is the use of dog-sledges. With the exception of the Incas of
Peru, who used the llama as a beast of burden, no American aborigines
employed animals either for drawing or for carrying. In this, then, the
Eskimos more resemble the races of the Asiatic polar regions.
But it would lead us too far afield if we were to follow up this
difficult scientific question, on which the evidence is as yet by
no means thoroughly sifted. So much alone can we declare with any
assurance, that the Eskimos dwelt in comparatively recent times on the
coasts around Bering Straits and Bering Sea--probably on the American
side--and have thence, stage by stage, spread eastward over Arctic
America to Greenland.
It is in my judgment impossible to determine at what time they reached
Greenland and permanently settled there. From what has already been said
it appears probable that the period was comparatively late, but it does
not seem to me established, as has been asserted in several quarters,
that we can conclude from the Icelandic sagas that they first made their
appearance on the west coast of Greenland in the fourteenth century.
It certainly appears as though the Norwegian colonies of Österbygd and
Vesterbygd (_i.e._ Easter- and Wester-district or settlement) were
not until that period exposed to serious attacks on the part of the
'Skrellings' or Eskimos, coming in bands from the north; but this does
not preclude the supposition that they had occupied certain tracts of
the west coast of Greenland long before that time and long before the
Norwegians discovered the country. They do not seem to have been settled
upon the southern part of the coast during the first four hundred
years of the Norwegian occupation, since they are not mentioned in the
sagas; but it is expressly stated that the first Norwegians (Erik the
Red and others) who came to the country, found both in the Easter-and
the Wester-districts ruins of human habitations, fragments of boats,
and stone implements, which in their opinion must have belonged to a
feeble folk, whom they therefore called 'Skrellings' (or 'weaklings').
We must accordingly conclude that the 'Skrellings' had been there
previously; and as such remains were found in both districts, it seems
that they could scarcely have paid mere passing visits to them. It is
not impossible that the Eskimos might simply have taken to their heels
when the Norwegian viking-ships appeared in the offing; we, too, found
them do so upon the east coast; but it does not seem at all probable
that they could vanish so rapidly as to let the Norwegians catch no
glimpse of them. The probability is, on the whole, that at that time the
permanent settlements of the Eskimos were further north on the coast,
above the 68th degree of north latitude, where seals and whales abound,
and where they would first arrive on their course from the northward[4]
(see p. 13). From these permanent settlements they probably, in Eskimo
fashion, made frequent excursions of more or less duration to the more
southerly part of the west coast, and there left behind them the traces
which were first found. When the Norwegian settlers began to range
northwards they at last came in contact with the Eskimos. Professor
G. Storm[5] is of opinion that this must first have happened in the
twelfth century.[6] We read in the 'Historia Norvegiæ' that the hunters
in the unsettled districts of north Greenland came upon an undersized
people whom they called 'Skrellings,' and who used stone knives and
arrow-points of whalebone. As their more northern settlements became
over-populated, the Eskimos no doubt began to migrate southwards in
earnest; and as the Norwegians often dealt hardly with them when they
met, they may eventually have taken revenge in the fourteenth century by
first (after 1341) attacking and devastating (?) the Wester-district,
and later (1379) making an expedition against the Easter-district, which
seems in the following century to have been entirely destroyed.[7] It
was about this time, accordingly, that the Eskimos probably effected
their first permanent settlements in the southern parts of the country.
There is evidence in the Eskimo legends as well of the battles between
them and the old Norsemen. But from the same legends we also learn
that there was sometimes friendly intercourse between them; indeed the
Norsemen are several times mentioned with esteem. This appears to show
that there was no rooted hatred between the two races; and the theory
that the Eskimos carried on an actual war of extermination against the
settlers seems, moreover, in total conflict with their character as we
now know it. Thus it can scarcely have been such a war alone that caused
the downfall of the colony. We may, perhaps, attribute it partly to
natural decline due to seclusion from the world, partly to absorption
of the race, brought about by the crossing of the two stocks; for the
Europeans of that age were probably no more inaccessible than those of
to-day to the seductions of Eskimo loveliness.
As to the route by which the Eskimos made their way to the west coast
of Greenland there has been a good deal of difference of opinion. Dr.
Rink maintains that after passing Smith's Sound the Eskimos did not
proceed southwards along the west coast, which would seem their most
natural course, but turned northwards, rounded the northernmost point
of the country, and came down along the east coast. In this way they
must ultimately have approached the west coast from the southward, after
making their way round the southern extremity of Greenland. This opinion
is mainly founded upon the belief that Thorgils Orrabeinsfostre fell
in with Eskimos upon the east coast, and that this was the Norsemen's
first encounter with them. I have already, in a note on the preceding
page, remarked on the untrustworthiness of this evidence; and such a
theory as to the route of the Eskimo immigration stands, as we know,
in direct conflict with the accounts given in the sagas, from which
it appears (as above) that the Eskimos came from the north and not
from the south, the Wester-district having been destroyed before the
Easter-district. It appears, moreover, that we can draw the same
conclusion from an Eskimo tradition in which their first encounter
with the old Norsemen is described. In former days, we are told, when
the coast was still very thinly populated, a boatful of explorers came
into Godthaab-fiord and saw there a large house whose inhabitants were
strange to them, not being Kaladlit--that is, Eskimo. They had suddenly
come upon the old Norsemen. These, on their side, saw the Kaladlit for
the first time, and treated them in the most friendly fashion. This
happened, it will be observed, in Godthaab-fiord, which was in the
ancient Wester-district--that is to say, the more northern colony. There
is another circumstance which, to my thinking, renders improbable the
route conjectured by Dr. Rink, and that is that if they made their way
around the northern extremity of the country, they must, while in these
high latitudes, have lived as the so-called Arctic Highlanders--that is,
the Eskimos of Cape York and northwards--now do; in other words, they
must have subsisted chiefly by hunting upon the ice, must have travelled
in dog-sledges, and, while in the far north, must have used neither
kaiaks nor woman-boats, since the sea, being usually ice-bound, offers
little or no opportunity for kaiak-hunting or boating of any sort. It
may not be in itself impossible that, when they came further south and
reached more ice-free waters again, they may have recovered the art of
building woman-boats and kaiaks, of which some tradition would in any
case survive; but it seems improbable, not to say impossible, that after
having lost the habit of kaiak-hunting they should be able to master it
afresh, and to develop it, and all the appliances belonging to it, to a
higher point of perfection than had elsewhere been attained.
The most natural account of the matter, in my opinion, is that the
Eskimos, after crossing Smith's Sound (so far there can be no doubt
about their route), made their way southwards along the coast, and
subsequently passed from the west coast, around the southern extremity
of the country, up the east coast. It is impossible to determine whether
they had reached the east coast and settled there before the Norsemen
came to Greenland. On their southward journey from Smith's Sound they
must, indeed, have met with a great obstacle in the Melville glacier
(at about 77° north latitude), which stands right out into the sea
at a point at which the coast is for a long distance unprotected by
islands. But, in the first place, they may have been able to make their
way onward in the lee of the drift-ice; and, in the second place, this
difficulty is at worst not so great as those they must have encountered
in passing round the northern extremity of Greenland. Moreover, the
passage in an open boat from Smith's Sound southward along the west
coast of Greenland to the Danish colonies has been several times
accomplished in recent years without any particular difficulty. In
opposition to this theory it may, no doubt, be alleged that the East
Greenlanders possess dog-sledges, which are not used on the southern
part of the west coast, where there is not enough ice for them. But if
we remember with what rapidity, comparatively speaking, the Eskimos
travel in their women-boats, and how fond they were in former times of
roaming up and down along the coast--and when we take into account the
fact that from time immemorial dogs have been kept along the whole of
the west coast--this objection seems to lose its weight.
The Eskimos are at present spread over the whole west coast of
Greenland, right from Smith's Sound to Cape Farewell. On the Danish
part of the west coast they number very nearly 10,000. On the east
coast, as we learn from the account of the Danish woman-boat expedition
of 1884-85, under Captain Holm, there are Eskimos as far north as the
Angmagsalik district (66° north latitude), their numbers in the autumn
of 1884 being in all 548. Further north, as the Eskimos told Captain
Holm, there were no permanent settlements so far as they knew. They
often, however, made excursions to the northward, possibly as far as
to the 68th or 69th degree of latitude; and a year or two before two
woman-boats had sailed in that direction, and had never been heard of
again. It is uncertain whether there may not be Eskimos upon the east
coast further north than the 70th degree of latitude. Clavering is
known to have found one or two families of them in 1823 at about 74°
north latitude; but since that time none have been seen; and the German
expedition which explored that coast in 1869-70, and wintered there,
found houses and other remains, but no people, and therefore assumed
that they must have died out. The Danish expedition of 1890 to Scoresby
Sound, under Lieutenant Ryder, reports the same experience. It therefore
seems probable that they have either died out or have abandoned this
part of Greenland. This does not seem to me absolutely certain, however.
There may be small and confined Eskimo colonies in these northern
districts, or there may be a few nomadic families whom no one has as
yet come across. This portion of the east coast must, in my opinion,
be quite specially adapted for Eskimo habitation, as it is very rich
in game. It therefore seems to me strange that when once the Eskimos
had arrived there they should have gone away again; nor does it seem
probable that they would die out in so excellent a hunting-ground. If
there are Eskimos upon this north-east coast, their secluded position,
debarring them from all intercourse, direct or indirect, with the outer
world, must render them, from an ethnological point of view, among the
most interesting people in existence.
Footnotes.
[1: Hans Egede. _Trans._]
[2: Sæter==mountain châlet. _Trans._]
[3: The Eskimos call themselves _inuit_--that is to say, 'human beings';
all other men they conceive as belonging to a different genus of
animals.]
[4: North of the 68th degree they could kill seals and whales in plenty
from the ice all the winter through; and this is a method of hunting
which they must have learnt further north, where it would be the most
important of all for them.]
[5: Gustav Storm: _Studies on the Vineland Voyages_, Extracts from
_Mémoires de la Société Royale des Antiquaires du Nord_, 1888, p. 53.]
[6: The Eskimos themselves have several legends as to their encounters
with the old Norsemen. See Rink: _Tales and Traditions of the Eskimo_,
pp. 308-321.]
[7: Some writers have concluded from the mention of 'troll-women' in the
'Flóamannasaga' that so early as the year 1000, or thereabouts, Thorgils
Orrabeinsfostre must have encountered Eskimos on the south-east coast
of Greenland. But, as Professor Storm has pointed out, the romantic
character of this saga forbids us to base any such inference upon it.
It must also be remembered that the extant manuscript dates from no
earlier than about 1400, long after the time when the Norsemen had come
in contact with the Eskimos on the west coast. Even if the Eskimos are
meant in the passage about the troll-women, which is extremely doubtful,
it may very well be a late interpolation.]
CHAPTER II
APPEARANCE AND DRESS
As I now sit down to describe these people, at such a distance from them
and from the scenery amid which we lived together, how vividly my first
meeting with them, upon the east coast of Greenland, stands before my
mind's eye! I see two brown laughing countenances, surrounded by long,
coal-black hair, beaming, even amid the ice, with bright contentment
both with themselves and the world, and full of the friendliest
good-humour, mingled with unaffected astonishment at the appearance of
the marvellous strangers.
The pure-bred Eskimo would at first glance seem to most of us Europeans
anything but beautiful.
He has a round, broad face, with large, coarse features; small, dark,
sometimes rather oblique eyes; a flat nose, narrow between the eyes
and broad at the base; round cheeks, bursting with fat; a broad mouth;
heavy, broad jaws; which, together with the round cheeks, give the
lower part of the face a great preponderance in the physiognomy. When
the mouth is drawn up in an oleaginous smile, two rows of strong white
teeth reveal themselves. One receives the impression, upon the whole, of
an admirable chewing apparatus, conveying pleasant suggestions of much
and good eating. But, at the same time, one traces in these features,
especially in those of the women, a certain touch of ingratiating petted
softness.
To our way of thinking, such a face could scarcely be described as
beautiful; but how much prejudice there is in our ideas of beauty! I
soon came to find these brown faces, gleaming with health and fat,
really pleasing. They reflected the free life of nature, and suggested
to my mind pictures of blue sea, white glaciers, and glittering
sunshine.
It was, however, chiefly the young that produced this impression; and
they soon grow old. The shrunken, blear-eyed, hairless old women,
reminding one of frost-bitten apples, were certainly not beautiful; and
yet there was a certain style in them, too. Toil had left its traces
upon their wrinkled countenances, but also a life of rude plenty and a
habit of good-humoured, hopeless resignation. There was nothing of that
vitreous hardness or desiccated dignity which the school of life so
often imprints upon aged countenances in other parts of the world.
The half-caste race which has arisen upon the west coast, of mingled
European and Eskimo blood, is apt to be, according to our ideas,
handsomer than the pure-bred Eskimos. They have, as a rule, a somewhat
southern appearance, with their dark hair, dark eyebrows and eyes, and
brown complexion. A remarkably Jewish cast of countenance sometimes
appears among them. Types of real beauty are by no means rare--male as
well as female. Yet there is apt to be something feeble about these
half-breeds. The pure-bred Eskimos undoubtedly seem more genuine and
healthy.
It is a common error among us in Europe to think of the Eskimos as a
diminutive race. Though no doubt smaller than the Scandinavian peoples,
they must be reckoned among the middle-sized races, and I even found
among those of purest breeding men of nearly six feet in height. Their
frame produces, on the whole, an impression of strength, especially the
upper part of the body. The men have broad shoulders, strong, muscular
arms, and a good chest; but, on the other hand, one notices that their
thighs are comparatively narrow, and their legs not particularly strong.
When they get up in years, therefore, they are apt to have an uncertain
gait, with knees slightly bent. This defective development of the
lower extremities must be ascribed, for the most part, to the daily
confinement in the cramped kaiak.
A noticeable physical characteristic of the women appeared to me to
be their comparatively narrow hips, which we are apt to regard as
inconsistent with the type of feminine beauty. They certainly seemed to
me considerably narrower than those of European women; but it is hard to
say how much of this effect is to be ascribed to difference of dress.
The Eskimo women, however, are remarkable for their very small and
well-formed hands and feet. Their physique, as a whole, strikes one as
sympathetic and pleasing.
The complexion of the pure-bred Greenlander is of a brownish or greyish
yellow, and even among the half-breeds a certain tinge of brownish
yellow is unmistakable. This natural darkness of the skin, however, is
generally much intensified, especially in the case of men and old women,
by a total lack of cleanliness. As an indication of their habits in this
particular, it will be sufficient if I quote the concise description
given by our very reverend countryman, Hans Egede, of the method of
washing practised by the men in particular: 'They scrape the sweat off
their faces with a knife.'
The skin of new-born children is fair, and that not merely because
they have not yet had time to grow dirty. Hans Egede Saabye noted long
ago in his Journal[8] that children have on the small of their back a
bluish-black patch, about the size of a sixpenny piece, from which the
dark colour of the skin seems to spread as they grow older. Holm makes
a note to the same effect in his account of the east coast.[9] I cannot
speak on the subject from personal observation. It is perhaps worth
noting that something similar is related of Japanese children.
Most of my readers have probably formed some idea of the Eskimo costume
from pictures (see Frontispiece). They are probably aware that its most
noteworthy peculiarity lies in the fact that the women dress almost like
the men. Their costume is certainly very much prettier and more sensible
than our ugly and awkward female fashions.
In South Greenland the men wear upon their body what is called a
_timiak_. It is made of bird-skins, with the feathers or down turned
inwards, is shaped very much like our woollen jerseys, and, like them,
is drawn over the head. The timiak is provided with a hood, used as a
head-covering in the open air; at other times it is thrown back, and
forms, with its upstanding selvage of black dog-skin, a sort of collar
round the neck. At the wrists, too, the timiak is edged with black
dog-skin, like a showy fur overcoat among us. Above the timiak, an outer
vest (_anorak_) is worn, now for the most part made of cotton. Trousers
of seal-skin, or of European cloth, are worn upon the legs; on the feet
a peculiar sort of shoes, _kamiks_, made of seal-skin. These consist
of two layers, an interior sock of skin with the fur turned inwards,
and an exterior shoe of hairless, water-tight hide. In the sole,
between the sock and the outer shoe, is placed a layer of straw or of
bladder-sedge.[10] Into these kamiks the naked foot is thrust.
The costume of the women closely resembles that of the men. In South
Greenland a bird-skin jacket is worn upon the body, which has, however,
no hood to cover the head, but instead of it a high upstanding
collar edged with black dog-skin, which is made to glisten as much
as possible; and outside this collar a broad necklace of glass beads
is often worn, radiant with all the colours of the rainbow. The
wrists, too, are edged with black dog-skin. The cotton vest above this
garment is of course as brightly coloured as possible, red, blue,
green, yellow, and round its lower edge there generally runs a broad
variegated band of cotton, or, if possible, of silk. Trousers are
worn on the legs, generally of mottled seal-skin, but sometimes of
reindeer-skin. They are considerably shorter than the men's trousers,
coming only to a little way above the knee, but are richly decorated in
front with bright-coloured embroideries in leather, and white stripes
of reindeer-skin or dog-skin. The kamiks are longer than those of the
men, and come up to above the knees; they are generally painted red,
but sometimes blue, violet, or white. Down the front of them is sewn a
band of many-coloured embroidery.
Besides the garments above-mentioned, there is another, used by women
who are nursing children. It is called an _amaut_, and resembles an
ordinary anorak, except that at the back there is a great enlargement or
pouch, in which they carry the child all day long, whatever work they
may be about. As the amaut is lined both inside and out with reindeer-
or seal-skin, this pouch makes a nice warm nest for the child.
As no fashion-paper is published in Greenland, fashions are not so
variable among the Eskimos as they are with us. Even in this respect,
however, they are no mere barbarians, as the following example will
show:
In former times, the women's anoraks and jackets were as long as the
men's; but after the Europeans had imported the extravagant luxury
of wearing white linen, they felt that such a wonderful tissue was
far too beautiful and effective to be concealed. Instead, however, of
cutting away their bodices from above, like our beauties at home, they
began below, and made their anoraks so short that between them and the
trouser-band, which was allowed to slip right down on the hips, there
appeared a gap of a hand's breadth or more, in which the fabric in
question became visible. A somewhat original style of 'low dress,' this.
The Eskimos of the east coast wear costumes practically similar to those
here described, only that they almost always use seal-skins instead of
bird-skins for their jackets. In North Greenland, too, seal-skin and
reindeer-skin are greatly used for these garments, and the same was the
case in earlier times all along the west coast.
On the east coast, a surprising habit prevails; to wit, that in their
houses and tents, men, women, and children go about entirely naked--or
so, at least, it seemed to me. Balto, however, no doubt after closer
examination, assured me that the grown men and women had all a narrow
band around their loins, a detail which my bashfulness had prevented
me from discovering. This remarkable observation of our friend Balto
is corroborated by the majority of travellers who have undertaken
researches on the subject, so I am bound to believe them. This band,
which the travellers are pleased to designate under-drawers--how far
it deserves such a name I will leave to the reader to judge from
the accompanying illustration--is, I am told, called _nâtit_ by the
Greenlanders.
[Illustration: GREENLAND INDOOR DRESS (EAST COAST).
(1) Male costume. (2) Female costume.]
In former days this simple indoor garb was worn all over Greenland,
right up to the northernmost settlements on Smith's Sound, where,
indeed, it is still in use.
This light raiment is, of course, very wholesome; for the many layers
of skins in the outdoor dress greatly impede transpiration, and it is
therefore a natural impulse which leads the Eskimo to throw them off
in the warm rooms, where they would be particularly insanitary. When
the Europeans came to the country, however, this free-and-easy custom
offended their sense of propriety, and the missionaries preached against
it. Thus it happens that the national indoor dress has been abolished
on the west coast. Whether this has led to an improvement in morality,
I cannot say--I have my doubts. That it has not been conducive to
sanitation, I can unhesitatingly declare.
The Eskimos, however, are still very unsophisticated with respect to
the exposure of their person. Many women, it is true, make some attempt
to conceal their nudities when a European enters their houses; but I
greatly fear that this is rather an affectation which they think will
please us, than a result of real modesty; and when they discover that we
are not greatly impressed by their attempts, they very soon give them
up. In regard to their own countrymen they show very little sense of
modesty.
The hair of the Eskimos is coal-black, coarse and straight, like
horsehair, and is allowed by the men to grow wild. On the east coast
they usually do not cut it at all, even regarding it as dangerous to
lose any of it; they keep it back from the face by means of a band
or thong. Sometimes they take it into their heads to cut the hair of
children, and the children so treated must continue all through their
lives to cut their hair, and must also observe certain fixed formalities
in the matter; for instance, they must cut the ears and tails of their
dogs while they are puppies. Iron must on no account come in contact
with the hair, which is, therefore, sawn off with the jawbone of a
Greenland shark.
The women knot their hair in a tuft upon the crown of the head. This
they do by gathering it tightly together from all sides and tying it
up, on the east coast with a thong, on the west coast with ribbons of
various colours. Unmarried women wear a red ribbon, which they exchange
for green if they have had a child. Married women wear a blue, and
widows a black ribbon. If a widow wants to marry again she will probably
mingle a little red with the black; elderly widows, who have given up
all thought of marriage, often wear a white ribbon. If a widow gives
birth to a child, she too must assume the green ribbon.
Her top-knot is the pride of the Greenland woman, and it must stand
as stiff and straight up in the air as possible. This is, of course,
held especially important by the young marriageable women, and as they
are scarcely less vain than their European sisters, they draw the hair
so tightly together that it is gradually torn away from the forehead,
the temples and the neck, whence they often become more or less bald
while still comparatively young. This does not add greatly to their
attractiveness, but is, nevertheless, a speaking proof of the vanity of
human nature.
In order to get the hair thoroughly well knotted together, and at the
same time to give it the glistening appearance which is prized as a
beauty, they have furthermore the habit of steeping it in urine before
doing it up, thus making it moist and easier to tighten.
Mothers lick their children instead of washing them, or at least did so
in former days; and as to the insects they come across in the process,
their principle is, 'They bite, therefore they must be bitten.'
If any should be offended by these peculiarities in the manners and
customs of the Greenlanders, they ought to reflect that their own
forefathers, not so many generations ago, conducted themselves not so
very differently. Let them read the accounts of the domestic life of the
Teutonic peoples some centuries ago, and they will learn many things
that will surprise them.
Footnotes.
[8: Saabye: _Greenland; being extracts from a Journal kept in that
country in the years 1770 to 1778._ London: 1818.]
[9: _Meddelelser om Grönland._ Pt. 10, p. 58. Copenhagen: 1889.]
[10: Norwegian, _sennegræs_. _Trans._]
CHAPTER III
THE 'KAIAK' AND ITS APPURTENANCES
A superficial examination of certain details in the outward life of the
Eskimo might easily lead to the erroneous conclusion that he stands at
a low grade of civilisation. When we take the trouble to look a little
more closely at him, we soon see him in another light.
Many people nowadays are vastly impressed with the greatness of our age,
with all the inventions and the progress of which we daily hear, and
which appear indisputably to exalt the highly gifted white race far over
all others. These people would learn much by paying close attention to
the development of the Eskimos, and to the tools and inventions by aid
of which they obtain the necessaries of life among natural surroundings
which place such pitifully small means at their disposal.
Picture a people placed upon a coast so desert and inhospitable as
that of Greenland, cut off from the outer world, without iron, without
firearms, without any resources except those provided by Nature upon the
spot. These consist solely of stone, a little drift-wood, skins, and
bone; but in order to obtain the latter they must first kill the animals
from which to take them. We, in their place, would inevitably go to the
wall, if we did not get help from home; but the Eskimo not only manages
to live, but lives in contentment and happiness, while intercourse with
the rest of the world has, to him, meant nothing but ruin.
In order that the reader may realise more vividly upon what an
accumulation of experiences the civilisation of this people rests, I
shall try to give a sketch of the way in which we must conceive it to
have arisen.
Let us, then, assume that the ancestors of the Eskimos, according to
Dr. Rink's opinion, lived in long bygone ages somewhere in the interior
of Alaska. They must at all events have been inlanders somewhere and
at some time, either in America or in Asia. Besides being hunters upon
land, these Eskimos must also have gone a-fishing upon the lakes and
rivers in birch-bark canoes, as the inland Eskimos of Alaska and the
Indians of the North-West do to this day. In course of time, however,
some of these inland Eskimos must either have been allured by the riches
of the sea or must have been pressed upon by hostile and more warlike
Indian tribes, so that they must have migrated in their canoes down the
river-courses toward the western and northern coasts. The nearer they
drew to the sea, the more scanty became the supply of wood, and they
had to hit upon some other material than birch-bark with which to cover
their canoes. It is not at all improbable that before leaving the rivers
they had made experiments with the skins of aquatic animals; for we
still see examples of this among several Indian tribes.
It was not, however, until the Eskimo encountered the rough sea at the
mouths of the rivers that he thought of giving his boat a deck, and at
last of closing it in entirely and joining his own skin-jacket to it so
that the whole became water-tight. The kaiak was now complete. But even
these inventions, which seem so simple and straightforward now that we
see them perfected--what huge strides of progress must they not have
meant in their day, and how much labour and how many failures must they
not have cost!
[Illustration: COVERING A KAIAK]
Arrived at the sea-coast, these Eskimos of the past soon discovered that
their existence depended almost entirely upon the capture of seals.
To this, then, they directed all their cunning, and the kaiak guided
them to the discovery of the many remarkable and admirable seal-hunting
instruments, which they brought to higher and ever-higher perfection,
and which prove, indeed, in the most striking fashion, what ingenious
animals many of us human beings really are.
The bow and arrow, which they used on land, they could not handle in
their constrained position in the kaiak; therefore, they had to fall
back upon throwing-weapons.
The idea of these, too, they borrowed from America, making use in the
first instance of the Indian darts with steering-feathers, which they
had themselves used in hunting upon land. Small harpoons or javelins of
this sort are still in use among Eskimos of the southern part of the
west coast of Alaska.
As one passes northward along this coast, however, the feathers soon
disappear, and are replaced by a little bladder fastened to the shaft
of the javelin. This device has been found necessary in order to
prevent the harpooned seals from diving and swimming. Further, it has
been found necessary so to arrange the point of the javelin that it
cannot be broken by the seal's violent efforts to get rid of it, but
detaches itself instead (at _c_ on accompanying engraving) and remains
hanging to a line (from _c_ to _b_) fastened (at _b_1) to the middle of
the javelin-shaft, which is thus made to take a transverse position,
and still further to impede the movements of the seal when it rushes
away with it. Such was the origin of the so-called _bladder-dart_,
known to all Eskimo tribes who live by the sea.
The bladder is made of a seagull's or cormorant's gullet, inflated and
dried. It is fastened to the javelin-shaft by means of a piece of bone
with a hole bored through it for the purpose of blowing up the bladder.
This hole is closed with a little wooden plug.
[Illustration: BLADDER-DART]
From this bladder-dart the Eskimo's principal hunting-weapon--the
ingenious harpoon with bladder and line--has probably developed. In
order to cope with the larger marine animals, the size of the bladder
was doubtless gradually increased; but the disadvantage of this--the
fact that it offered too much resistance to the air to be thrown far and
with force--must soon have been felt. The bladder was then separated
from the javelin, and only attached to its point by means of a long
and strong line, the harpoon-line. The harpoon, which was now made
larger and heavier than the original javelin, was henceforward thrown
by itself, but drawing the line after it. The bladder, fastened to the
other end of the line, remained in the kaiak until the animal had been
pierced, when it was thrown overboard.
This harpoon, with all its ingenuity of structure, ranks, along with the
kaiak, as the highest achievement of the Eskimo mind.[11]
Its shaft is made in Greenland of red drift-wood--a sort of fir from
Siberia, drifted by the polar current across the Polar Sea--which is
heavier than the white drift-wood used in making smaller and lighter
projectiles. The upper end of the shaft is fitted with a thick and
strong plate of bone, on the top of which is fixed a long bone
foreshaft--commonly made of walrus or narwhal tusk--which is fastened
to the shaft by means of a joint of thongs, so that a strong pressure
or blow from the side, instead of shattering the foreshaft, causes it
to break off at the joint. This foreshaft fits exactly into a hole in
the harpoon-head proper, which is made of bone, generally of walrus
or narwhal tusk. It is now always provided with a point, or rather
a sharp blade, of iron; in earlier days they used flint or simply
bone. The harpoon-head is fastened to the harpoon-line by means of a
hole bored through it, and is provided with barbs or hooks so that it
sticks fast wherever it penetrates. It is, moreover, so adjusted that
it works itself transversely into the flesh as the wounded seal tugs
at the line. It is attached to the harpoon-shaft by being fitted to
the before-mentioned foreshaft, whereupon the line is hooked on to a
peg, placed some distance up the harpoon-shaft (at _a_), by means of a
perforated piece of bone fixed at the proper distance. Thus the head and
the shaft are held firmly together.
[Illustration: HARPOON]
When the harpoon strikes and the seal begins to plunge, the bone
foreshaft instantly breaks off at the joint (see illustration), and the
harpoon-head, with the line attached to it, is thus loosened from the
shaft, which floats up to the surface and is picked up by its owner,
while the seal dashes away, dragging the line and bladder after it.
It must be admitted, I think, that it is difficult to conceive a more
ingenious appliance, composed of such materials as bone, seal-skin,
and drift-wood; and we may be sure that it has cost the labour of many
generations.
[Illustration: THE HEAD OF THE HARPOON]
Two forms of this harpoon are in use in Greenland. The one is called
_unâk_; its butt-end is finished off with nothing more than a bone
knob, and it is longer and slighter than the other. This is called
_ernangnak_, and has at its butt-end two flanges or wings of bone, now
commonly made of whale-rib, designed to increase the weight of the
harpoon and to guide it through the air. It is one of these which is
represented on p. 36.[12]
At Godthaab the ernangnak was most in use; but I heard old hunters
complaining that, in a wind, it was more difficult to throw than the
unâk, since a side gust was apt to take too strong hold of the bone
flanges and to make the harpoon twist.
The harpoon-line is made of the hide either of the bearded seal (_Phoca
barbata_) or of the young walrus. It is generally from 15 to 18 yards
long, and a good quarter of an inch (about 7 millimetres) thick.
For the bladder they use the hide of a young ringed seal (_Phoca
foetida_). The skin is slipped off, as nearly as possible whole, the
hair is removed, the apertures at the head, the fore limbs, and the hind
limbs are tied up so as to be air-tight, and the whole is dried.
The line is coiled upon the kaiak-stand, which is fixed in front of the
man. It serves to keep the coil well above the sea, which is always
washing over the deck; and thus the line is always ready to run out
without fouling when the harpoon is thrown.
The harpooned seal is killed by means of a lance (_anguvigak_). This
consists of a wooden shaft (commonly made of the light white drift-wood,
in order that it may carry well), a long bone foreshaft, and an
iron-bladed tip. In former days flint was used instead of iron. The
foreshaft is generally made of reindeer-horn or else of narwhal tusk. In
order that the seal may not break it off, it is fastened to the shaft by
a joint similar to that which fastens the foreshaft to the harpoon.
[Illustration: LANCE]
The Eskimos have also the so-called bird-dart (_nufit_). Its shaft is
likewise of white drift-wood. Its point consists of a long narrow spike,
now made of iron, but in earlier times of bone; and besides this there
are fastened to the middle of the shaft three forward-slanting spikes,
made of reindeer-horn and provided with large barbs. The idea is that
if the end of the dart does not pierce the bird, the shaft shall glide
along it, and one of these outstanding spikes must strike and penetrate
it; and it is thus, in fact, that the bird is generally brought down.
Another invention, this, which no one need blush to own.
All these projectiles can, as I have shown above, be traced back to the
Indian feather-dart.
[Illustration: THROWING-STICK WITH BIRD-DART]
But in order to throw their weapons further and with greater force,
the Eskimos have invented an appliance which distinguishes them from
all surrounding races, whether American or Asiatic. This invention is
the _throwing-stick_. Oddly enough, this admirable device, which by
its sling-like action greatly augments the length and strength of the
arm, is known in very few parts of the world--probably only in three.
It is found in Australia in a very primitive form, among the Conibos
and Purus on the Upper Amazon, where it is scarcely more developed
than in Australia, and finally among the Eskimos, where it has reached
its highest perfection.[13] We can scarcely conjecture that the
throwing-stick, appearing in places so remote from each other, springs
from any common origin, and we must thus accept the Eskimo form of it
as an original invention of that particular race. It is generally made
in Greenland of red drift-wood, and is about half a yard long (fourteen
sticks in my possession range from 42 to 52 centimetres in length). At
its lower and broader end it is about 3 inches (7 or 8 centimetres) in
width, and is flat, with a thickness of rather more than half an inch
(about 1-1/2 centimetre). The sides, at the lower and broader end, have
indentations in them for convenience in grasping--on one side for the
thumb, on the other for the fore-finger; while on the upper flat side
there runs a long groove along the whole length of the stick, to receive
the dart or harpoon.[14] The throwing-stick is found in two forms. The
one is most used for the bladder-dart and the bird-dart; it has at the
upper narrow end a knob which fits into an indentation in a plate of
bone fixed to the butt-end of the dart. (Compare illustrations on pp. 40
and 42). The other form is used for harpoons and lances; it has a hole
in the upper narrow end, into which fits a backward-slanting spur in
the side of the harpoon or lance-shaft, and it has besides another hole
further down and near the grip, into which fits another slanting spur.
(Compare illustration, p. 43). Throwing-sticks of this sort are used in
the North, for example in Sukkertoppen, for the bird-dart as well.
A third form of the throwing-stick is used in the most southern part of
Greenland and on the east coast for the ernangnak or flange harpoon.
This form has in its upper narrow end a small knob, as in the bird-dart
throwing-stick, and this knob fits into an indentation in the butt-end
of the harpoon between the bone flanges; in the lower end of the
shaft, on the other hand, near the grip, there are one or even two holes
into which fit bone knobs in the side of the harpoon-shaft, as above
described.
[Illustration: THE BIRD-DART THROWN]
When the harpoon or the dart is to be hurled, the throwing-stick, of
whatever form it may be, is seized by the grip and held backward,
together with the weapon, in a horizontal position. (See illustration,
page 40); being then jerked forward with force, its lower end comes
away from the dart or harpoon, while, with the upper end, still fitted
to its knob or peg (see illustrations on this and the next page), the
thrower hurls the weapon away to a considerable distance and with great
accuracy. This is an extremely simple and effective invention.
Besides the weapons above-mentioned, the Eskimo has behind him in
his kaiak, when he goes out hunting, a knife with a handle about 4
feet long (1·20 metre) and a pointed blade measuring some 8 inches
(20 centimetres). This is used for giving the seal or other game its
finishing stroke. He has, moreover, a smaller knife lying before him
in the kaiak; it is used, amongst other things, for piercing holes
in the seal through which to pass the bone knobs of the towing-line,
wherewith the seal is made fast to the kaiak and towed to land. To this
end, too, he always carries with him one or more towing-bladders, which
he inflates and fastens to the seal in order to keep it afloat. These
bladders are made of the pouch of small whales (_e.g._ the grampus).
[Illustration: THROWING-STICK WITH HARPOON]
To complete this description, I should also mention the bone-knife which
forms part of the kaiak-man's outfit, especially in winter, and which is
principally used for scraping the ice off the kaiak.
From the accompanying drawing, the reader will be able to form an idea
of how all these weapons are fitted to the kaiak when it is in full
hunting trim: _a_ is the kaiak-opening; _b_, the harpoon-bladder;
_c_, the kaiak-stand with coiled harpoon-line (_e_); _d_, the harpoon
hanging in its place; _f_, the lance; _g_, the kaiak-knife; _h_, the
bladder-dart; _i_, the bird-dart; _k_, its throwing-stick.
[Illustration: KAIAK, SEEN FROM ABOVE]
[Illustration: KAIAK-FRAME]
But the most important thing of all yet remains, and that is a
description of the kaiak itself.
It has an internal framework of wood. This, of which the reader can, I
hope, form some conception from the accompanying drawing, was formerly
always made of drift-wood, usually of the white wood, which is lightest.
For the ribs, osiers were sometimes used, from willow bushes which are
found growing far up the fiords. In later days they have got into the
habit of buying European boards of spruce or Scotch fir in the west
coast colonies, although drift-wood is still considered preferable,
especially on account of its lightness.
This framework is covered externally with skins, as a rule with the skin
of the saddleback seal (_Phoca groenlandica_), or of the bladder-nose
or hood seal (_Cystophora cristata_). The latter is not so durable or
so water-tight as the former; but the skin of a young bladder-nose, in
which the pores are not yet very large, is considered good enough. Those
who can afford it use the skin of the bearded seal (_Phoca barbata_),
which is reckoned the best and strongest; but, as it is also used for
harpoon lines, it is, as a rule, only on the south and east coast that
it is found in such quantities that it can be commonly used for covering
the kaiak. The skin of the great ringed seal (_Phoca foetida_) is also
used, but not so frequently.
The preparation of the kaiak-skins will be described subsequently,
in Chapter VIII. They are generally fitted at once to the kaiak in a
raw state; but if they have been already dried they must be carefully
softened for several days before they can be used. The point is to get
them as moist and pliant as possible, so that they can be thoroughly
well stretched, and remain as tense as a drum-head when they dry. The
preparation of the skins, and the sewing and stretching them on the
kaiak, belongs to the women's department; it is not very easy work, and
woe to them if the skin sits badly or is too slack! They feel it a great
disgrace.
All, or at any rate a great many, of the women of the village are
generally present when a kaiak is being covered; it is a great
entertainment to them, especially as, in reward for their assistance,
they are often treated to coffee by the owner of the kaiak. The cost of
the entertainment ranges, according to his wealth, from threepence or
fourpence up to a shilling or more.
In the middle of the kaiak's deck there is a hole just large enough to
enable a man to get his legs through it and to sit down; his thighs
almost entirely fill the aperture. Thus it takes a good deal of practice
before one can slip into or out of the kaiak with any sort of ease.
The hole is surrounded by the kaiak-ring, which consists of a hoop of
wood. It stands a little more than an inch (3 or 3-1/2 centimetres)
above the kaiak's deck, and the waterproof jacket, as we shall presently
see, is drawn over it. At the spot where the rower sits, pieces of
old kaiak-skin are laid in the bottom over the ribs, with a piece of
bearskin or other fur to make the seat softer.
As a rule, each hunter makes his kaiak for himself, and it is fitted
to the man's size just like a garment. A kaiak for a Greenlander of
average size measures, in the neighbourhood of Godthaab, about 6 yards
(5-1/2 metres) in length. The greatest breadth of deck, in front of
the kaiak-ring, is about 18 inches (45 centimetres), or a little more;
but the boat narrows considerably towards the bottom. The breadth,
of course, varies according to the width of the man's thighs, and is
generally no greater than just to allow him to slip in. I should note,
however, that the kaiaks in Godthaab fiords--as, for example, at Sardlok
and Karnok--were longer and narrower than the kaiaks on the sea-coast,
for example at Kangek, obviously for the reason that on the open coast
they are exposed to heavier seas, and must therefore be stiffer and
easier to handle. The shorter and broader kaiaks are better sea-boats,
and ship less water.
[Illustration: SECTION OF THE KAIAK (The dotted line represents the
skin.)]
The depth of the kaiak from deck to bottom is generally from 5 to 6-1/2
inches (12 to 15 centimetres), but in front of the kaiak-ring it is an
inch or two more, in order to give room for the thighs, and to enable
the rower to get more easily into his place. The bottom of the kaiak is
pretty flat, sloping to a very obtuse angle (probably about 140°) in the
middle. The kaiak narrows evenly in, both fore and aft, and comes to a
point at both ends. It has no keel, but its underpart at both ends is
generally provided with bone flanges, for the most part of whale-rib,
designed to save the skin from being ripped up by drift-ice, or by
stones when the kaiak is beached. Both points are commonly provided with
knobs of bone, partly for ornament, partly for protection as well.
Across the deck, in front of the kaiak-ring, six thongs are usually
fastened, and from three to five behind the rower. Under these thongs
weapons and implements are inserted, so that they lie safe and handy
for use. Pieces of bone are let into the thongs, partly to hold them
together, partly to keep them a little bit up from the deck, so that
weapons can the more easily and quickly be pushed under them, and partly
also for the sake of ornament. To some of these thongs the booty is
fastened. The heads of birds are stuck in under them; seals, whales, or
halibut are attached by towing-lines to the thongs at the side of the
kaiak; and smaller fish are not fastened at all, but either simply laid
on the back part of the deck or pushed in under it.
A kaiak is so light that it can without difficulty be carried on the
head, with all its appurtenances, over several miles of land.
It is propelled by a two-bladed paddle, which is held in the middle
and dipped in the water on each side in turn, like the paddles we use
in canoes. It has probably been developed from the Indians' one-bladed
paddles. Among the Eskimos on the south-west coast of Alaska the
one-bladed paddle is universal; not until we come north of the Yukon
River do we find two-bladed paddles, and even there the single blade is
still the more common. Further north and eastward along the American
coast both forms are found, until the two blades at last come into
exclusive use eastward of the Mackenzie River.
[Illustration: PADDLE]
The Aleutians seem, strangely enough, to be acquainted with only the
two-bladed paddle,[15] and this is also the case, so far as I can
gather, with the Asiatic Eskimos.[16]
In fair weather the kaiak-man uses the so-called _half-jacket_
(_akuilisak_). This is made of water-tight skin with the hair removed,
and is sewn with sinews. Round its lower margin runs a draw-string, or
rather a draw-thong, by means of which the edge of the jacket can be
made to fit so closely to the kaiak-ring that it can only be pressed and
drawn down over it with some little trouble. This done, the half-jacket
forms, as it were, a water-tight extension of the kaiak. The upper
margin of the jacket comes close up to the armpits of the kaiak-man, and
is supported by braces or straps, which pass over the shoulders and can
be lengthened or shortened by means of handy runners or buckles of bone,
so simple and yet so ingenious that we, with all our metal buckles and
so forth, cannot equal them.
[Illustration: HALF-JACKET]
[Illustration: WHOLE-JACKET]
Loose sleeves of skin are drawn over the arms, and are lashed to the
over-arm and to the wrist, thus preventing the arm from becoming wet.
Watertight mittens of skin are drawn over the hands.
This half-jacket is enough to keep out the smaller waves which wash
over the kaiak. In a heavier sea, on the other hand, the _whole-jacket_
(_tuilik_) is used. This is made in the same way as the half-jacket,
and, like it, fits close to the kaiak-ring, but is longer above, has
sleeves attached to it, and a hood which comes right over the head.
It is laced tight round the face and wrists, so that with it on the
kaiak-man can go right through the breakers and can capsize and right
himself again, without getting wet and without letting a drop of water
into the kaiak.
It will readily be understood that it is not easy to sit in a vessel
like the kaiak without capsizing, and that it needs a good deal of
practice to master its peculiarities. I have seen a friend of mine in
Norway, on making his first experiment in my kaiak, capsize four times
in the space of two minutes; no sooner had we got him up on even keel
and let him go, than he again stood on his head with the bottom of the
kaiak in the air.
But when one has acquired by practice a mastery of the kaiak and of the
two-bladed paddle, one can get through the water in all sorts of weather
at an astonishing speed. The kaiak is beyond comparison the best boat
for a single oarsman ever invented.
In order to become an accomplished kaiak-man, one ought to begin early.
The Greenland boys often begin to practise in their father's kaiak
at from six to eight years old, and when they are ten or twelve the
provident Greenlander gives his sons kaiaks of their own. This was the
rule, at any rate, in former times. Lars Dalager even says: 'When they
are from eight to ten years old they take seriously to work in little
kaiaks.'
From this age onwards, the young Greenlander remains a toiler of the
sea. At first he generally confines himself to fishing, but before long
he extends his operations to the more difficult seal-hunting.
You cannot rank as an expert kaiak-man until you have mastered the art
of righting yourself after capsizing. To do this, you seize one end of
the paddle in your hand, and with the other hand grasp the shaft as
near the middle as possible; then you place it along the side of the
kaiak with its free end pointing forward towards the bow; and thereupon,
pushing the end of the paddle sharply out to the side,[17] and bending
your body well forward towards the deck, you raise yourself by a strong
circular sweep of the paddle. If you do not come right up, a second
stroke may be necessary.
A thorough kaiak-man can also right himself without an oar by help of
his throwing-stick, or even without it, by means of one arm. The height
of accomplishment is reached when he does not even need to use the flat
of his hand, but can clench it; and to show that he really does so, I
have seen a man take a stone in his clenched hand before capsizing, and
come up with it still in his grasp.
An Eskimo told me of another who was so extraordinarily skilful at
righting himself that he could do it in every possible way: with or
without an oar, with or without a throwing-stick, or with his clenched
hand. The only thing he could not right himself with was--his tongue;
and my informant protruded that member and made some horrible grimaces
with it to illustrate what exertions it would cost to recover yourself
with so inconvenient an implement.
In earlier times, on the west coast of Greenland, every at all capable
kaiak-man was able to right himself; but in these later days, since the
introduction of European civilisation, and the consequent degeneracy of
the race, this art has declined, along with everything else. It is still
quite common, however, in many places. For instance, I can assert of
my own knowledge that at Kangek, near Godthaab, almost all the hunters
possessed it. On the east coast, according to Captain Holm, it seems to
be usual, yet not so much so as it was in former times upon the west
coast. Nor is this to be wondered at, as it is far more necessary on the
west coast, where there is little drift-ice and heavy seas are common.
A kaiak-man who has entirely mastered the art of righting himself can
defy almost any weather. If he is capsized, he is on even keel again in
a moment, and can play like a sea-bird with the waves, and cut right
through them. If the sea is very heavy, he lays the broadside of his
kaiak to it, holds the paddle flat out on the windward side, pressing
it against the deck, bends forward, and lets the wave roll over him;
or else he throws himself on his side towards it, resting on his flat
paddle, and rights himself again when it has passed. The prettiest feat
of seamanship I have ever heard of is that to which some fishers, I am
told, have recourse among overwhelming rollers. As the sea curls down
over them they voluntarily capsize, receive it on the bottom of the
kaiak, and when it has passed right themselves again. I think it would
be difficult to name a more intrepid method of dealing with a heavy sea.
If you cannot right yourself, and if there is no help at hand, you are
lost beyond all hope as soon as you capsize. This may happen easily
enough--a wave can do it, or even the fouling of the harpoon-line when
a seal is struck. Just as often, too, it happens through an unguarded
movement in calm weather, or at moments when there seems to be no
danger.
Many Eskimos find their death every year in this manner. For example, I
may state that in Danish South Greenland in 1888, out of 162 deaths (of
which 90 were of males), 24, or about 15 per cent. (that is to say, more
than a fourth part of the male mortality), were caused by drowning in
kaiaks.
In 1889, in South Greenland, out of 272 deaths (of which 152 were of
males), 24, or about 9 per cent., were due to the same cause. This in a
population of 5,614, of which 2,591 were males.
Footnotes.
[11: The Indians of the North-West and the Tchuktchi--and even, if I am
not mistaken, the Koriaks and the Kamtchatkans--use the same harpoon,
with a line and large bladder, in hunting sea animals, throwing the
harpoon from the bow of their large open canoes or skin-boats. It seems
probable, however, that they have learned the use of these instruments
from the Eskimos.]
[12: In North Greenland there is yet a third and larger form of the
harpoon, which is used in walrus hunting, and is hurled without a
throwing-stick; it has instead two bone knobs, one for the thumb and one
for the fore-finger.]
[13: As to the different forms of the throwing-stick among the Eskimos,
see Mason's paper upon them in the Annual Report, &c. of the Smithsonian
Institution for 1884, Part II. p. 279.]
[14: In some places--for example, in the most southern part of Greenland
and on the East Coast--there is only a hollow for the thumb, while the
other side is smooth or edged with a piece of bone in which are notches
to prevent the hand from slipping.]
[15: On this point, see even such early authors as Cook and King, _A
Voyage to the Pacific Ocean, &c._, 3rd ed., ii. p. 513, London, 1785.]
[16: It is remarkable that the inhabitants of St. Lawrence Island do
not seem to use the kaiak at all. They have large open skin-boats
(_baidars_) of the same build as those of the Tchucktchi. (Compare
Nordenskiöld, _The Voyage of the Vega_, ii. p. 254, London, 1881.)]
[17: While the paddle is being pushed out sideways, until it comes at
right angles to the kaiak, it is held slightly aslant, so that the
blade, in moving, forces the water under it, and acquires an upward
leverage.]
CHAPTER IV
THE ESKIMO AT SEA
One often hears the Eskimo accused of cowardice. This is no doubt
mainly due to the fact that his accusers have seen him only on land, or
in fine weather at sea; and then he is too good-natured and easy-going
to show any courage. It may be, too, they have not taken the trouble to
place themselves in sympathy with his view of life; or else they may
have called upon him to do things which he neither understood nor cared
about.
If by courage we understand the tigerish ferocity which fights to the
last drop of blood, even against superior force--that courage which, as
Spencer says, is undoubtedly most common among the lowest races of men,
and is especially characteristic of many species of animals--it must be
admitted that of this the Eskimos do not possess any great share. They
are too peaceable and good-natured, for example, to strike back when
attacked; and therefore Europeans, ever since the time of Egede and the
first missionaries, have been able to strike them with impunity and to
call them cowardly. But this sort of courage is held in no great respect
by the natives in Greenland, and I am afraid that they do not look up
to us any the more because we exhibit a superabundance of it. They have
from all time respected the beautiful Christian doctrine that if a man
smite you on the right cheek, you should turn to him the left also.
But to conclude from this that the Eskimo is a coward would be unjust.
To estimate the worth of a human being, you must see him at his work.
Follow the Eskimo to sea, observe him there--where his vocation
lies--and you will soon behold him in another light; for, if we
understand by courage that faculty which, in moments of danger, lays its
plans with calmness and executes them with ready presence of mind, or
which faces inevitable danger, and even certain death, with immovable
self-possession, then we shall find in Greenland men of such courage as
we but rarely find elsewhere.
Kaiak-hunting has many dangers.
Though his father may have perished at sea, and very likely his brother
and his friend as well, the Eskimo nevertheless goes quietly about
his daily work, in storm no less than in calm. If the weather is too
terrible, he may be chary of putting to sea; experience has taught him
that in such weather many perish; but when once he is out he goes ahead
as though it were all the most indifferent thing in the world.
It is a gallant business, this kaiak-hunting; it is like a sportive
dance with the sea and with death. There is no finer sight possible than
to see the kaiak-man breasting the heavy rollers that seem utterly to
engulf him. Or when, overtaken by a storm at sea, the kaiaks run for
the shore, they come like black storm-birds rushing before the wind and
the waves, which, like rolling mountains, sweep on in their wake. The
paddles whirl through air and water, the body is bent a little forwards,
the head often turned half backwards to watch the seas; all is life and
spirit--while the sea around reeks like a seething cauldron. And then
it may happen that when the game is at its wildest a seal pops its head
up before them. Quicker than thought the harpoon is seized and rushes
through the foam with deadly aim; the seal dashes away with the bladder
behind it, but is presently caught and killed, and then towed onwards.
Everything is done with the same masterly skill and with the same quiet
demeanour. The Eskimo never dreams that he is performing feats of
heroism.
Here he is great--and we? Ah, in these surroundings we are apt to seem
very small.
Let us follow the Eskimo on a day's hunting.
[Illustration: 'THE HEAD TURNED HALF BACKWARDS TO WATCH THE SEAS']
Several hours before dawn he stands upon the outlook-rock over the
village, and scans the sea to ascertain whether the weather is going
to be favourable. Having assured himself on this point, he comes
slowly down to his house and gets out his kaiak-jacket. His breakfast
in the good old days consisted of a drink of water; now that European
effeminacy has reached him too, it is generally one or two cups of
strong coffee. He eats nothing in the morning; he declares that it makes
him uneasy in the kaiak, and that he has more endurance without it. Nor
does he take any food with him--only a quid of tobacco.
When the kaiak is carried down to the beach and the hunting-weapons are
ranged in their places, he slips into the kaiak-hole, makes fast his
jacket over the ring, and puts out to sea. From other houses in the
village his neighbours are also putting forth at the same time. It is
the bladder-nose that they are after to-day, and the hunting-ground is
on some banks nine miles out to the open sea.
It is calm, the smooth sea heaves in a long swell towards the rocky
islets that fringe the shore, a light haze still lies over the sounds
between them, and the sea-birds floating on the surface seem double
their natural size. The kaiaks cut their way forwards, side by side,
making only a silent ripple; the paddles swing in an even rhythm,
while the men keep up an unbroken stream of conversation, and now and
then burst out into merry laughter. Bird-darts are thrown in sport,
now by one, now by another, in order to keep eye and hand in practice.
Presently an auk comes within range of one of them; the dart speeds
through the air, and the bird, transfixed, attempts, with much flapping
of wings, to dive, but is held up next moment upon the point of the
dart. The point is pulled out, the hunter seizes the bird's beak between
his teeth, and with a strong twitch breaks its neck, then fastens it to
the back part of the kaiak.
They soon leave the sounds and islets behind them and put straight out
to the open sea.
After some hours' paddling, they have at last reached the
hunting-ground. Great seal-heads are seen peering over the water in many
directions, and the hunters scatter in search of their prey.
[Illustration: SEAWARD IN SEARCH OF SEALS]
Boas, one of the best hunters of the village, has seen a large he-seal
far off, and has paddled towards it; but it has dived, and he lies and
waits for its reappearance. There! a little way before him its round
black head pops up. He bends well forward, while with noiseless and
wary strokes he urges the kaiak toward the seal, which lies peaceful
and undisturbed, stretching its neck and rocking up and down upon the
swell. But suddenly it is on the alert; it has caught a glimpse of the
flashing paddle-blade, and now looks straight at him with its great
round eyes. He instantly stops paddling and sits motionless, while the
way on the kaiak carries it noiselessly forward. The seal discovers
nothing new to be alarmed at, and resumes its former quietude. It
throws its head backwards, holds its snout straight up in the air, and
bathes in the morning sun which gleams upon its black, wet skin. In the
meantime the kaiak is rapidly nearing; every time the seal looks in
that direction, Boas sits still and moves no muscle; but as soon as it
turns its head away again, he shoots forward like a flash of lightning.
He is coming within range; he gets his harpoon clear, sees that the
line is properly coiled upon the stand; one stroke more and it is time
to throw--when the seal quietly disappears under the water. It was not
frightened, and will consequently come up again at no great distance.
He lies still and waits. But the minutes drag on; a seal can remain
under water an incredible time, and it seems even longer to one who is
waiting for his prey. But the Eskimo is gifted with admirable patience;
he lies absolutely motionless except for his head, with which he keeps
watch on every side. At last the seal's head once more appears over the
water a little way off and to one side. He cautiously turns the kaiak,
unobserved by his prey, and once more he shoots towards it over the
mirror-like sea. But suddenly it catches sight of him again, looks at
him sharply for a moment, and dives. He knows its habits, however, and
at full speed he dashes towards the spot where it disappeared. Before
many moments have passed it pops up its head again to look around. Now
he is within range: the harpoon is seized and carried back over his
shoulder, then with a strong movement, as if hurled from a steel spring,
it rushes whistling from the throwing-stick, whirling the line behind
it. The seal gives a violent plunge, but at the moment it arches its
back to dive, the harpoon sinks into its side, and buries itself up to
the shaft. A few convulsive strokes of its tail churn the water into
foam, and away it goes, dragging the harpoon-line behind it towards the
depths. In the meantime Boas has seized the throwing-stick between his
teeth, and, quicker than thought, has thrown the bladder out of the
kaiak behind him. It dances away over the surface of the sea, now and
then seeming on the point of disappearing, as indeed it finally does.
Before long, however, it again comes in sight, and he chases after
it as quickly as his paddle can take him, snapping up on the way his
harpoon-shaft which has floated to the surface. The lance is laid ready
for use. Next moment the seal comes up; infuriated at its inability to
escape, it turns upon its pursuer, attacks first the bladder, which it
tears to pieces, and then goes straight for the kaiak. Again Boas is
within range; the animal arches its back and hurls itself forward with
gaping maw, so that the water foams around it. A miss may now cost him
his life; but he calmly raises his lance and sends it speeding with
terrible force through the seal's mouth and out at the back of its neck.
A shudder runs through it, and its head sinks; but the next moment it
raises itself perpendicularly in the water, the blood pours frothing
from its mouth, it gapes wildly and utters a smothered roar, while the
hood over its nose is inflated to an astounding size. It shakes its
head so that the lance-shaft quivers and waves to and fro; but it does
not succeed in breaking it or getting free from it. A moment more and
Boas's second lance has pierced through one of its fore-flappers into
its lungs; the seal collapses, and the fight is over. He paddles up to
its side, and as it still moves a little, he gives it a finishing stab
with his long-handled knife. Then he sets quietly about pulling out his
lances and replacing them in the kaiak, takes out his towing-line and
blows up his towing-bladder, which he fastens to the seal, cuts the
harpoon-head out and once more makes it fast to the shaft, coils the
line on the stand, and takes out a new bladder and places it behind him.
Next, the seal's flappers are lashed close to its body, with the thong
designed for that purpose, and the animal is attached by means of the
towing-line to one side of the kaiak, so that it can easily be towed
along, its head being fastened to the foremost pair of thongs on the
deck, and its tail to the hindmost. Now Boas is ready to look about him
for more game. He is lucky, and has not paddled far before he catches
sight of another seal. In an instant he has cast loose the one already
killed, which is kept afloat by the towing-bladder, while he again sets
off in pursuit. This one, too, he kills, after some wary stalking and
eager waiting; he takes it in tow and returns for his first prey. The
two great animals are fastened one on each side of the kaiak. He has now
a good cargo, and cannot get very quickly through the water; but that
does not prevent him from increasing his bag. As soon as another seal
comes in sight those already secured are cast loose, and when the next
one is killed it is fastened behind the others. In this way one man will
sometimes come towing as many as four seals, or even more at a pinch.
[Illustration: SEAL-HUNTING]
Tobias, in the meantime, another of the best hunters of the village, has
not been quite so fortunate as Boas. He began by chasing a seal which
dived and did not come up again within sight. Then he set off after
another; but as he is skimming over the sea towards it the huge head of
a hooded seal[18] suddenly pops up right in front of the kaiak, and is
harpooned in an instant. It makes a frightful wallowing and dives, the
harpoon-line whirls out, but suddenly gets fouled under the bird-dart
throwing-stick; the bow of the kaiak is drawn under with an irresistible
rush, and before Tobias knows where he is, the water is up to his
armpits, and nothing can be seen of him but his head and shoulders and
the stern of the kaiak, which sticks right up into the air. It looks as
if it were all over with him; those who are near him paddle with all
their might to his assistance, but with scant hope of arriving in time
to save him. Tobias, however, is a first-rate kaiak-man. In spite of his
difficult position, he keeps upon even keel while he is dragged through
the water by the seal, which does all it can to get him entirely under.
At last it comes up again, and in a moment he has seized his lance and,
with a deadly aim, has pierced it right through the head. A feeble
movement, and it is dead. The others come up in time to find Tobias busy
making his booty fast and to get their pieces of blubber from it.[19]
They cannot restrain their admiration for his coolness and skill, and
speak of it long afterwards. Tobias and Boas, however, are the best
hunters of the village. It is related of them that, in their younger
days, they were such masters of their craft that they even disdained the
use of bladders. They made fast the harpoon-line round their own waist
or round the kaiak-ring, and when the harpooned seal was not killed at
the first stroke, they let it drag themselves and the kaiak after it
instead of the bladder. This is looked upon by the Greenlanders as the
summit of possible achievement, but there are very few who attain such
mastery.
Hitherto the weather has been fine, the glassy surface of the sea has
been heaving softly under the rising sun. But in the course of the last
hour or two, black and threatening banks of clouds have begun to draw
up over the southern horizon. Just as Tobias has made fast his seal, a
distant roar is heard and a sort of steam can be seen rising over the
sea to the southward. It is a storm approaching, and the steam is the
flying spray which it drives before it. Of all winds, the Greenlanders
fear the south wind (_nigek_) most, for it is always violent and sets up
a heavy sea.
The thing is now to get under the land as quickly as possible. Those who
have no seals in tow have the best of it, yet they try to keep with the
others.
[Illustration: BEFORE THE WIND]
One relieves Boas of one of his seals. They have not paddled far before
the storm is upon them; it thrashes the water to foam as it approaches,
and the kaiak-men feel it on their backs, like a giant lifting and
hurling them forward. The sport has now turned to earnest; the seas soon
tower into mountains of water and break and welter down upon them. They
are making for the land with the wind nearly abeam; but they are still
far off, they can see nothing around them for the spray, and almost
every wave buries them so that only a few heads, arms, and ends of
paddles can be seen above the combs of froth.
Here comes a gigantic roller--they can see it shining black and white in
the far distance. It towers aloft so that the sky is almost hidden. In
a moment they have stuck their paddles under the thongs on the windward
side and bent their bodies forward so that the crest of the wave breaks
upon their backs. For a second almost everything has disappeared; those
who are further a-lee await their turn in anxiety; then the billow
passes, and once more the kaiaks skim forward as before. But such a sea
does not come singly; the next will be worse. They hold their paddles
flat to the deck and projecting to windward, bend their bodies forward,
and at the moment when the white cataract thunders down upon them they
hurl themselves into its very jaws, thus somewhat breaking its force.
For a moment they have again disappeared--then one kaiak comes up on
even keel, and presently another appears bottom upwards. It is Pedersuak
(_i.e._ the big Peter) who has capsized. His comrade speeds to his side,
but at the same moment the third wave breaks over them and he must look
out for himself. It is too late--the two kaiaks lie heaving bottom
upwards. The second manages to right himself, and his first thought is
for his comrade, to whose assistance he once more hastens. He runs his
kaiak alongside of the other, lays his paddle across both, bends down so
that he gets hold under the water of his comrade's arm, and with a jerk
drags him up upon his side, so that he too can get hold of the paddle
and in an instant raise himself upon even keel. The water-tight jacket
has come a little loose from the ring on one side and some water has got
in; not so much, however, but that he can still keep afloat. The others
have in the meantime come up; they get hold of the lost paddle, and all
can again push forward.
[Illustration: A KAIAK-MAN RESCUING A COMRADE]
It grows worse and worse for those who have seals in tow; they lag far
behind, and the great beasts lie heaving and jarring against the sides
of the kaiaks. They think of sacrificing their prey, but one difficult
sea passes after another, and they will still try to hang on for a
while. The proudest moments in a hunter's life are those in which he
comes home towing his prey, and sees his wife's, his daughter's, and his
handmaiden's happy faces beaming upon him from the shore. Far out at sea
he already sees them in his mind's eye, and rejoices like a child. No
wonder that he will not cast loose his prey save at the direst pinch of
need.
After passing through many ugly rollers, they have at last got under the
land. Here they are somewhat protected by a group of islands lying far
to the southward. The seas become less violent, and, as they gradually
get further in, they push on more quickly for home over the smoother
water.
In the meantime the women at home have been in the greatest anxiety.
When the storm arose they ran up to the outlook-rock or out upon the
headlands, and stood there in groups gazing eagerly over the angry sea
for their sons, husbands, fathers, and brothers. So they stand watching
and shivering, until, with eyes rendered keener by anxiety, they at last
discern what seem like black specks approaching from the horizon, and
the whole village echoes to one glad shout: 'They are coming! They are
coming!' They begin to count how many there are; two are missing! No,
there is one of them! No, they are all there! They are all there!
They soon begin to recognise individuals, partly by their method of
paddling, partly by the kaiaks, although as yet they are little more
than tiny dots. Suddenly there sounds a wild shout of joy: 'Boase
kaligpok!' ('Boas is towing')--him they easily identify by his size.
This joyful intelligence passes from house to house, the children rush
around and shout it in through the windows, and the groups upon the
rocks dance for joy. Then comes a new shout: 'Ama Tobiase kaligpok!'
('Tobias too is towing'); and this news likewise passes from house to
house. Next is heard: 'Ama Simo kaligpok!' 'Ama David kaligpok!' And
now again comes another swarm of women out of the houses and up to the
rocks to look out over the sea breaking white against the islets and
cliffs, where eleven black dots can now and then be seen far out amid
the rolling masses of water, moving slowly nearer.
At last the leading kaiaks shoot into the little bight in front of the
village. They are those who have no seals. Lightly and with assured aim
one after the other dashes up on the flat beach, carried high upon the
crest of the waves. The women stand ready to receive them and to draw
them further up.
Then come those who have seals in tow; they must proceed somewhat more
cautiously. First, they cast loose their prey and see that it comes to
the hands of the women on shore. Then they themselves make for the land.
When once they have got out of the kaiak, they, like the first comers,
pay no heed to anything but themselves and their weapons, which they
carry to their places above high-water mark. They do not even look at
their prey as it lies on the shore. From this time forward all work in
connection with the 'take' falls to the share of the women.
The men go to their homes, take off their wet clothes and put on
their indoor dress, which, as we have seen, was in the heathen times
exceedingly airy, but has now become more visible.
Then at last comes the first meal of the day; but it does not begin in
earnest till the day's 'take' is boiled and served up in a huge dish
placed in the middle of the floor. Then there disappear incredible
quantities of flesh and raw blubber.
When hunger is appeased, the women always set themselves to some
household work, sewing or the like, whilst the men give themselves up to
well-earned laziness, or attend a little to their weapons, hang up the
harpoon-line to dry, and so forth.
Then the hunters begin to relate the events of the day, the family
listening eagerly, especially the boys. The narrative is sober, with
none of that boasting or striving to impress the hearers with an
exaggerated idea of the difficulties overcome, in which we Europeans,
under similar circumstances, would often indulge.
But at the same time it is lively and picturesque, with a peculiar
breadth of colouring. Experiences are described with illustrative
gestures, and, as Dalager says: "When they have come so far in the story
that the cast has to be depicted, they swing the right arm in the air
while the left is held straight out to represent the animal. Then the
demonstration goes on as follows: 'When the time came for using the
harpoon, I looked to it, I took it, I seized it, I gripped it, I had it
fast in my hand, I balanced it'--and so forth. This alone may go on for
several minutes, until at last the hand sinks to represent the throw;
and after that they do not forget to make note of the last twitches
given by the seal."
At other times the most remarkable events are dismissed in a few words.
But as often as an opportunity presents itself, a broad humour enters
into the narration, and is unfailingly rewarded by shrieks of laughter
from the eager listeners. No more perfect picture could be imagined of
happy family life.
So the days pass for the Eskimo. Although there is nothing unusual in
experiences such as these, they have for him a distinct attraction. His
best thoughts are wedded to the sea, the hard life upon it is for him
the kernel of existence--and when he is forced to remain at home, his
heart is heavy. But when he grows old--ah, then the saga is over. There
is always a melancholy in old age, and nowhere more than here. These
kindly old men have also in their day known strength and youth--times
when they were the pillars of their little society. Now they have only
the memories of that life left to them, and they must let themselves be
fed by others. But when the young people come home from sea with their
booty, they, too, hobble down to the beach to receive them; even if it
were but a poor foreigner like me, they were glad to be able to help me
ashore with my kaiak. And then when evening comes they set themselves
to story-telling; adventure follows adventure, the past comes to life
again, and the young people are spurred on to action.
The hunting is often more dangerous than that described above. It
will easily be understood that from his constrained position in the
kaiak, which does not permit of much turning, the hunter cannot throw
backwards or to the right. If, then, a wounded seal suddenly attacks
him from these quarters, it requires both skill and presence of mind
to elude it or to turn so quickly as to aim a fatal throw at it before
it has time to do him damage. It is just as bad when he is attacked
from below, or when the animal suddenly shoots up close at his side,
for it is lightning-like in its movements and lacks neither courage
nor strength. If it once gets up on the kaiak and capsizes it, there
is little hope of rescue. It will often attack the hunter under water,
or throw itself upon the bottom of the kaiak and tear holes in it. In
such a predicament, it needs very unusual self-mastery to preserve the
coolness necessary for recovering oneself upon even keel and renewing
the fight with the furious adversary. And yet it sometimes happens that
after being thus capsized the kaiak-man brings the seal home in triumph.
A still more terrible adversary is the walrus; therefore there are
generally several in company when they go walrus-hunting, so that one
can stand by another if anything should happen. But often enough, too, a
single hunter will attack and overcome this monster.
[Illustration: A KAIAK-MAN ATTACKED BY A WALRUS]
The walrus, I need scarcely say, is a huge animal of as much as 16 feet
(5 metres) in length, with a thick and tough hide, a deep layer of
blubber, a terribly hard skull, and a powerful body. There needs, then,
a sure and strong arm to kill it. The walrus has the habit, as soon as
it is attacked, of turning upon its assailant, and will often, with its
ugly tusks, make itself exceedingly unpleasant. If there are several
walruses in a flock, they will very likely surround him and attack him
all at once.
Even the Norwegian hunters, who go after the walrus in large, strong
boats, each containing many men, armed with guns, lances, and axes--even
they stand much in awe of it.
How much more courage and skill does it require for the Eskimo to attack
it in his frail skin canoe, with his light ingenious projectiles--and
alone!
But this is no unusual occurrence for the Eskimo. He fights out his
fight with his dangerous adversary; calmly, with his lance ready poised
for throwing, he awaits its attack, and, coolly seizing his advantage,
he at the right moment plunges the weapon into its body.
Coolness is more than ever essential in walrus-hunting, for the most
unforeseen difficulties may arise; and catastrophes are by no means
rare. At Kangamiut, some years ago, a kaiak was attacked from below, and
a long walrus-tusk was suddenly thrust through its bottom, through the
man's thigh, and right up through the deck. His comrades at once rushed
to his assistance, and the man was rescued and helped ashore.
Besides these animals, the Eskimo also attacks whales from his little
kaiak. There is one species in particular which is more dangerous
than any other--the grampus, or, as he calls it, _ardluk_. With its
strength, its swiftness, and its horrible teeth, if it happens to take
the offensive, it can make an end of a kaiak in an instant. Even the
Eskimo fears it; but that does not prevent him from attacking it when
opportunity offers.
In former times they hunted the larger whales as well, using, however,
the great woman-boats, with many people in them, both men and women. For
this sort of whale-hunting, says Hans Egede, 'they get themselves up in
their greatest finery as if for a marriage, for otherwise the whale will
avoid them; he cannot endure uncleanliness.' The whale was harpooned, or
rather pierced with a big lance, from the bow, and it sometimes happened
that with a whisk of its tail it would crush the boat or capsize it. The
men were often so daring as to jump on the whale's back, when it began
to be exhausted, in order to give it a finishing stroke. This method of
hunting is now unusual.
It is not only the larger animals that expose the Eskimo to danger. Even
in ordinary fishing--for example, for halibut--disasters may happen. If
one has not taken care to keep the line clear, and it gets fouled in one
place or another, while the strong fish is making a sudden dash for the
bottom, the crank kaiak is easily enough capsized. Many have met their
end in this way.
[Illustration: HALIBUT-FISHING]
But we must not dwell too long on the shady sides of life. I hope I
have succeeded in giving the reader a slight impression of the life
of the Eskimo at sea, and of some of the dangers which are his daily
lot--enough, perhaps, to have convinced him that this race is not
lacking in courage when it comes to the pinch, nor in endurance and cool
self-command.
But the Eskimo has more than this; when disaster overtakes him, he will
often show the rarest endurance and hardihood. In spite of the many
dangers and sufferings inseparable from his industry, he devotes himself
to it with joy. If the history of the Eskimos had ever been written,
it would have been one long series of feats of courage and fortitude;
and how much moving self-sacrifice and devotion to others would have
had to be recorded! How many deeds of heroism have been irrecoverably
forgotten! And this is the people whom we Europeans have called
worthless and cowardly, and have thought ourselves entitled to despise.
Footnotes.
[18: _Hoettesoel_, the full-grown male of the _Klapmyts_ (bladder-nose).
It has a hood over its nose, which it can inflate enormously.]
[19: When a seal is killed, each of the kaiak-men in the neighbourhood
receives a piece of its blubber, which he generally devours forthwith.]
CHAPTER V
WINTER-HOUSES, TENTS, WOMAN-BOATS, AND EXCURSIONS.
In winter the Greenlanders live in houses built of stones and turf. They
rise only from four to six feet (one and a half to two metres) above the
level of the ground, and the floor is sunk somewhat beneath it. The roof
is flat or slightly arched. From outside, the whole structure generally
looks like an insignificant mound of earth.
There is only one room in these houses, and in it several families
generally live together--men and women, young and old. The roof is so
low that a man of any stature can scarcely stand upright. The room forms
an oblong quadrangle. Along the whole of the longer wall, opposite the
door, runs the chief sleeping-bench, about six feet six inches in width,
upon which sleep the married people, with grown-up unmarried daughters
and young boys and girls. Here they lie in a row, side by side, with
their feet towards the wall and their heads out into the room.
Hans Egede Saabye says, in his before-mentioned Journal, that they make
their marriage-bed under the sleeping-bench. I saw nothing to indicate
that any such practice now exists anywhere in the Godthaab district.
Unmarried men generally lie upon smaller benches under the windows,
which are in the opposite long wall, and of which there are one,
two, or three, according to the size of the house. The windows were
formerly filled with gut-skin, or some similar material; but nowadays,
on the west coast, glass is commonly used. Against the side walls,
too--the shorter walls--there are generally benches. These, or the
window-benches, are, as a rule, assigned to strangers as their
sleeping-places.
When several families, as is generally the case, dwell in one house, the
chief sleeping-bench is divided into stalls--one for each family. The
stalls are marked off by wooden posts, placed against the outer edge of
the bench, and reaching to the roof, from which low partitions extend
to the back wall. It is incredible how little room they are content
with. Captain Holm describes a house on the east coast which measured
about twenty-seven feet by fourteen and a half, and in which dwelt eight
families, consisting in all of thirty-eight persons. In one stall, four
feet broad, dwelt a man with two wives and seven children. This does not
give much space to each.
They use seal-skins or reindeer-skins to lie upon, and also, in former
days, as bedclothes, going to bed entirely naked, with the exception of
the before-mentioned indoor dress. Nowadays, on the west coast, down
quilts are commonly used as bedclothes.
Internally, the walls of the house were in former times always lined
with skins. The floor was formed by the naked earth, partly paved with
flags. Nowadays, since the introduction of so much European luxury, they
have begun, on the west coast, to line the walls with boards and to lay
wooden floors. They have even, to a certain extent, adopted the habit of
washing the floors--so much as several times a year.
The house is entered through a long and narrow passage, partly dug out
beneath the level of the ground, and, like the houses, walled with
stones and turf. You descend into it from the level of the ground
through a hole. It is, as a rule, so low and narrow that one has to
crouch one's way through it, and a large man finds it difficult enough
to effect an entrance. I was told at Sardlok of a fat storekeeper from
Godthaab who stuck fast at a difficult point in the passage leading to
Terkel's house. There he stuck, struggling and roaring, but could not
advance, and still less retreat. In the end, he had to get four small
boys to help him, two shoving behind and two, from within the house,
dragging him in front by the arms. They laboured and toiled in the sweat
of their brows, but the man was jammed as fast as a wad in a gun-barrel,
and there was some thought of pulling down the walls of the passage in
order to liberate him, before he at last managed to squeeze through. If
I remember rightly, a window had to be torn down in order to let him out
of the house again.
From the passage, you enter the house through a little square opening,
usually in the front long wall, which is closed by a door or trap-door.
The purpose of this passage is to prevent the cold air from coming in
and the warm light air from escaping. It is to this end that it is made
to lie lower than the house; by which means, too, a little ventilation
is obtained, since the heavy bad air can, to some extent, sink down into
it and escape.
In Greenland houses of the old style there are no fireplaces; they are
warmed, as well as lighted, by train-oil lamps, which burn day and
night. They are left burning all night through, not merely for the sake
of warmth, but also because the Eskimos are exceedingly superstitious,
and therefore afraid of even sleeping in darkness. You may hear them
relate, as a proof of extreme poverty, that this family or that, poor
things, have to sleep at night with no lamp burning.
The lamps are large, flat open saucers of soapstone. They are of
semi-circular form, and along the straight side lies the wick, which
is formed of dry moss, or, nowadays, of cotton. These lamps rest on a
wooden stand, and are placed on a little table or raised place in front
of the sleeping-bench. There is generally one of these lamp-tables to
each family. If several families dwell in one house, there are many
lamps, for each family has at least one burning, and, as a rule, more.
In former days, food used to be cooked over these lamps in soapstone
pots, which hung from the roof. The preparation of food, like every
other business of life, of course went on in the common room.
So it is to this day on the east coast. On the west coast, modern
civilisation has effected a change, in so far that food is now generally
cooked in a special room with a fireplace, built on to the side of
the passage leading into the house. Peat is used as fuel in these
fireplaces, and also lumps of dried seagulls' dung. Iron saucepans, too,
bought at the stores in the colonies, are now used instead of soapstone
pots.
Many West Greenlanders have, moreover, become so highly sophisticated as
to have bought stoves, which they use instead of the train-oil lamps for
heating their houses. The fuel used is the same as that mentioned above.
At the same time, however, the indispensable lamps are kept burning, for
the sake of light, if for no other reason.
In former days the houses were generally large, and several families
lived in each. By this means they were able to economise in fuel,
and they lived warmly and comfortably, while in many other ways
the habitation in common was found advantageous. In this point the
influence of the Europeans has been unfortunate. They have encouraged
the distribution of the families into separate small houses, and have
even offered prizes for house-building; it was thought to be such a
grand thing that each family should have its own home for itself. The
result was that the houses became poorer and colder, more material in
proportion was needed for warming and lighting--material which was not
always forthcoming--and the advantages of the old system of partial
communism were sacrificed; so that the separation tended to the greater
discomfort of the greater number.
In winter, when everything is frozen hard, these houses are all well
enough; but in summer, when the moisture exudes from the thawing walls
and the roof leaks and sometimes falls in, they are anything but
wholesome dwelling-places. As soon as spring arrives, therefore, with
the month of April, the Greenlanders used always in former days to
quit their houses, often unroofing them themselves, in order that they
might be thoroughly ventilated and washed out by the autumn rains--an
exceedingly simple method of house-cleaning.
The whole summer through, and a good way into the autumn (until
September or October), the Greenlanders dwelt in tents, each family,
as a rule, having its own. These tents are of a peculiar semi-circular
form, with the entrance-door in the high flat side. Internally, they
are arranged very like the houses, with the sleeping-bench running
along the curved back wall opposite to the door, which is closed with
a curtain of semi-transparent gut-skin. The walls of the tent consist
of an outer layer of water-tight skin with the hair taken off (old
boat-skins being used as a rule), and an inner layer of reindeer- or
seal-skin with the fur turned inwards. These tents are tolerably warm,
and in them, as in their houses, they go without clothes.
The woman-boat is inseparably connected with this summer tent-life.
These boats, which are from 30 to 40 feet long (10 to 12 metres), have
received their name from the Europeans, because, unlike the kaiaks, they
are rowed by women.
[Illustration: AN ESKIMO CAMP]
They are entirely open boats, consisting of a wooden framework covered
with seal-skin, and are narrow in proportion to their length, and
flat-bottomed. They are easy to row, but their shape renders them
defective and inconvenient sea-boats, so that as soon as there is any
wind the Greenlanders make for the land with them. They have generally a
small sail which can be set in the bow, for running before a fair wind;
but it will be readily understood that they are not good sailing-boats.
Sailing is, on the whole, a pursuit of which the Eskimo understands
little, and for which he has no great liking.
In these boats there is room for all a family's worldly goods--tents,
household implements, dogs, children, women, &c. They are rowed by as
many as half a score of oarswomen, and when they are so well 'manned,'
they attain a good speed. A run of fifty English miles a day is not at
all uncommon. They are generally steered by the paterfamilias, while the
other males of the family follow in their kaiaks.
In their woman-boats, the Greenlanders used to move from one
hunting-ground to another all through the summer. For one or two months
they always went far up the fiords in search of reindeer, and there they
lived on the fat of the land.
In those days they often undertook long journeys up and down the west
coast, as they do to this day on the east coast. To show how long these
journeys sometimes are, I may mention that on the east coast families
travel from the Angmagsalik district, in 65-1/2° north latitude, the
whole way to the trading-settlements west of Cape Farewell, and back
again--a distance of about 500 miles. They do not generally travel
quickly; one of two woman-boats which we met on the east coast at Cape
Bille in 1888, on their way southwards, did not reach Pamiagdluk, west
of Cape Farewell, until two years later, in 1890--and this is only a
distance of some 180 miles, which we with our boats could no doubt have
covered in a week or two. But as soon as the Eskimos come to a place
where there are plenty of seals, they go ashore, pitch their camp,
take to hunting, and live at their ease. When the autumn and winter
approach, they choose a good site and build a winter-house, continuing
their journey in the spring or summer as soon as the ice permits. The
woman-boat in question had in this manner spent three years on the
passage from Umivik, and would no doubt take pretty nearly as long to
return. The other woman-boat that was passing southwards from Cape Bille
got as far as Nanusek, about 65 miles from the trading-settlements west
of Cape Farewell, and there went into winter quarters; but then the
father of the family died, and they faced round and set about the long
journey back to Angmagsalik, without ever having reached their goal, the
trading-settlements, or accomplished their errand.
[Illustration: A SUMMER JOURNEY]
Journeys along the west coast were of course easier and more rapid, as
the drift-ice did not there present impediments.
By means of this habit of wandering they escaped the evil effects of
too great seclusion in separate villages; they met together and kept up
intercourse with other people, so that there was all through the summer
a certain life and traffic from which they reaped many benefits. Their
minds were enlivened, interest in hunting was stimulated, and skill was
developed in many different ways, to say nothing of the fact that the
frequent changing of hunting-grounds brought much more game within their
reach.
This summer life in the comparatively clean, airy tents, besides being
exceedingly pleasant, was, as we may easily understand, very much
healthier than confinement in the close, evil-smelling earth cabins. No
wonder, then, that the Greenlanders' fairest dreams of happiness were
associated with the woman-boat and the tent.
Here again, alas! we Europeans have brought about melancholy changes.
Hans Egede, indeed, complained bitterly of the difficulty of getting the
Greenlanders to leave off their perpetual wanderings and settle down
peaceably in one place, so that he could preach Christianity to them at
his ease; he even proposed that they should be forcibly bound down to
a less migratory life. If this pious man, who thought of nothing but
the advancement of the Kingdom of God, had been living now, he might
in so far have been happy; for the Christian Greenlanders of to-day
scarcely travel at all. By reason of the great impoverishment which we
have brought upon them, there are every day fewer and fewer hunters who
can procure enough skins to make a woman-boat and a tent, both of which
are of course necessary for travelling. They are more and more forced
to pass the whole year round in the unwholesome winter houses, which
are, of course, mere hot-beds for bacteria and all sorts of contagious
diseases, while the men are thus unable to change their hunting-grounds,
and must keep to the same spots year out year in. By this means the
'take' is of course greatly diminished, food is consequently much less
plentiful, and the indispensable seal-skins become fewer and fewer. As
soon as the whole Greenland community has sunk to the level of Egede's
ideal and has entirely abandoned its migratory habits, it will be
almost, if not quite, beyond salvation. The decline in this direction
has of late years been very alarming.
CHAPTER VI
COOKERY AND DAINTIES
One feature of the Greenlanders' daily life, which to us seems strange
enough, is that they have no fixed meal-times; they simply eat when
they are hungry, if there is anything to be had. As already mentioned,
the hunters often go the whole day without anything to eat. They have a
remarkable power of doing without food, but to make up for this they can
consume at a sitting astonishing quantities of meat, blubber, fish, &c.
Their cookery is simple and easy to learn.
Meat and fish are eaten sometimes raw or frozen, sometimes boiled,
sometimes dried; and sometimes meat is allowed to undergo a sort of
decomposition or fermentation, when it is called _mikiak_, and is eaten
without further preparation. A dish of this sort, which is very highly
esteemed, is rotten seals'-heads.
The blubber of seals and whales is generally eaten raw. My dainty
readers will of course shudder at the very thought of eating raw
blubber; but I can assure them that, especially when quite fresh, it is
very good. It has a sweetish, perhaps rather mawkish, taste, reminding
one of cream, with nothing of what we should call an oily or fishy
flavour; this does not make itself felt until the blubber has been
boiled or roasted, or when it has grown rancid. There are still people,
no doubt, who believe that the Eskimos are in the habit of drinking
train-oil, although even Hans Egede has pointed out that this is a
mistake. That they do not always refuse it, however, when it comes in
their way, I was able to assure myself at Godthaab; for I always saw
our old maid-servant Rosina take a sip or two out of our lamp when she
was cleaning it in the morning, and, as she usually did, had filled the
vessel a little too full. It did not seem at all to disagree with her.
They also preserve the stalks of angelica in train-oil, preparing them,
according to Saabye's account, in the following peculiar fashion; 'A
woman takes a mouthful of blubber, chews it, and spits it out, and so
continues until she thinks she has enough. When the angelica-stalks have
steeped for a certain time in this liquid, they are taken out and eaten
as dessert with much appetite.'
Of vegetable food, the primitive Greenlanders used several sorts; in
addition to angelica, I may mention dandelions, sorrel, crowberries,
bilberries, and different kinds of seaweed. One of their greatest
delicacies is the contents of a reindeer's stomach. If a Greenlander
kills a reindeer, and is unable to convey much of it home with him, he
will, I believe, secure the stomach first of all; and the last thing an
Eskimo lady enjoins upon her lover, when he sets off reindeer-hunting,
is that he must reserve for her the stomach of his prey. It is no doubt
because they stand in need of vegetable food that they prize this so
highly, and also because it is in reality a very choice collection of
the finest moss and grasses which that _gourmet_, the reindeer, picks
out for himself. It has undergone a sort of stewing in the process of
semi-digestion, while the gastric juice provides a somewhat sharp and
aromatic sauce. Many will no doubt make a wry face at the thought of
this dish, but they really need not do so. I have tasted it, and found
it not uneatable, though somewhat sour, like fermented milk. As a dish
for very special occasions, it is served up with pieces of blubber and
crowberries.
Another dish, which will doubtless shock many Europeans, is the entrails
of ptarmigans. In this case they do not confine themselves to the
stomachs, but devour in a twinkling the viscera with their contents.
The remainder of the ptarmigan they sell to the traders for a penny or
less (5 to 8 öre). This is the reason why, in Greenland, one never sees
ptarmigan whole, except those one has shot oneself.
One time when we went on a hunting expedition up the Ameralik fiord,
and had the Greenlander Joel with us, he devoted a day to tearing the
entrails out of all our ptarmigan; but as they numbered a good many more
than a hundred, he could not devour the whole on the spot, and gathered
up the remains in a large sack. Upon its delicious contents, which must
have become a sort of gruel before he reached home, he no doubt intended
to feast in company with his well-beloved Anna Cornelia. I hope the
reader will pardon my inability to inform him how this dish tastes; it
was the one Greenland delicacy which I could not make up my mind to
essay.
Among other dainties I must mention the skin (_matak_) of different
sorts of whales, especially of white whale and porpoise, which is
regarded as the acme of deliciousness. The skin is taken off with the
layer of blubber next to it, and is eaten raw without further ceremony.
I must offer the Eskimos my sincerest congratulations on the invention
of this dish. I can assure the reader that now, as I write of it,
my mouth waters at the very thought of matak with its indescribably
delicate taste of nuts and oysters mingled. And then it has this
advantage over oysters, that the skin is as tough as india-rubber to
masticate, so that the enjoyment can be protracted to any extent. Even
the Danes in Greenland are greatly addicted to this delicacy when it
is to be had; they cook it, however, as a rule, thus making it of a
jellyish consistency and easy of mastication. The taste of nuts and
oysters disappears entirely.
A delicate dish, which does not, however, rival matak, is raw
halibut-skin. It has the same advantage that, by reason of its
toughness, it goes such a long way. I can confidently recommend it as
exceedingly palatable, especially in winter.
The Greenlander is also very fond of raw seal-skin with the blubber. Its
taste was very tolerable, but I could not quite reconcile myself to the
hairs, and therefore took the liberty of spitting them out again, after
having made several vain attempts to swallow them.
They eat the flesh of seals, whales, reindeer, birds, hares, bears, even
of dogs and foxes. The only things, so far as I know, that they despise,
are ravens; as these birds feed to some extent upon the dung-heaps, they
are regarded, like the plants that grow there, as unclean.
Lean meat they do not care about at all; therefore they prefer, for
example, sea-birds to ptarmigan. It happened once that in one of the
colonies in South Greenland, a clergyman, who had just arrived in the
country, invited some of his flock to a party, and his wife treated
them to the greatest delicacy she knew, namely, roast ptarmigan. The
Greenlanders ate very sparingly of it, though their hostess pressed
it hospitably upon them. At last she asked whether they did not like
ptarmigan. Oh yes, they answered, they ate it sometimes--when there was
a famine.
What I have said above will doubtless be enough to prove that the
Eskimos are by no means so easily contented in their diet as is
generally supposed. In famine times, however, they will eat almost
anything. Dalager assures us that they will, for example, 'cut their
tent skins to pieces and make soup with them,' and it is not uncommon to
hear of someone who has made soup of his old skin trousers.
The method of serving the food differs considerably from that which
obtains in Europe. There are no tables in the Greenland house; therefore
the dish is placed in the middle of the floor, and the people sit on the
benches around, and dip into it with the forks provided by Nature. It
seldom occurs to them to place the dish upon a box or any other raised
place; it seems almost a necessity for them to stoop. An example of
this may be found in an anecdote of a young Danish lady who, soon after
her arrival in Greenland, got some Eskimo women into her house to do
washing. Coming into the wash-house, she found them bending over the
wash-tubs, which stood upon the floor, and, thinking this an awkward
position, she brought them some stools to place the tubs upon. Shortly
afterwards she went in again to see how they were getting on, and found
them, to her astonishment, standing upon the stools and, of course,
stooping still more awkwardly over the tubs, which remained upon the
floor. _Se non è vero è ben trovato._
Of all the many delicacies to which we have introduced them, the
Christian Greenlanders are most addicted to coffee, and the indulgence
in it has on the west coast become almost a vice. They brew it strong,
and seldom drink less than two large bowls at a time; and it is not
at all unusual for them to take coffee four or five times a day--it
tastes so nice and puts them in such excellent spirits. They are not
insensible to its deleterious effects, however, and therefore young men
are allowed little or none of it, lest it should spoil them for hunting.
A dizziness from which the older men sometimes suffer, and which makes
them unsteady in the kaiak, they attribute in large part to coffee.
This harmonises curiously with the results of recent physiological
experiments, which have shown that the most dangerous poisons contained
in coffee--cafeonet, &c.--attack precisely that part of the nervous
system on which equilibrium depends.
Next to coffee they are devoted to tobacco and bread. On the west
coast, tobacco is for the most part smoked or chewed; while snuff is
the East Greenlanders' weakness. The women on the west coast, too, are
given to snuffing, and it is often an unpleasant surprise to observe
an attractive young woman blackening her nostrils and upper lip with
a copious pinch. They grind their own snuff with flat stones, out of
undamped roll-tobacco, which they cut up small and dry over the lamp.
To make it go further it is sometimes mixed with powdered stone; and it
is kept in horns of different sizes. On the east coast, snuff performs
a definite social function. The Eskimos have no words for 'good-day'
or 'welcome,' and fill up the gap by offering their snuff-horns to
any stranger who is acceptable in their sight, whereupon the newcomer
responds by offering his horn in exchange. When they part, the same
ceremony is repeated.
The West Greenlanders prepare their chewing tobacco in a way which to us
seems somewhat surprising. A deep Danish porcelain pipe is half-filled
with smoking-tobacco, which is then thoroughly drenched with water,
after which the pipe is filled to the brim with dry tobacco; then it
is smoked till the fire reaches the wet tobacco and is extinguished.
The ashes are then knocked out, and as much oil as possible is scraped
together from the oil-cell, the pipe-stem, the old accretions in the
pipe-bowl, &c., and is added to the already well impregnated mass in the
bottom of the bowl, which is then considered ready for chewing. This
particularly strong preparation is specially prized for use on board the
kaiak.
The Government has, fortunately, prohibited the sale of brandy to the
Greenlanders. Europeans, however, are allowed to order it from home, and
may treat the Greenlanders with it. It is very common to let them have
a dram when they are serving as rowers on board the boats of Europeans
travelling in the summer-time, and after any bargain has been concluded
with them. It has furthermore been wisely ordained that the _kifaks_,
or those who are in the employ of the Danish Company, get each his dram
every morning; while the hunters, who ought to be more capable and
better men than the kifaks, cannot obtain any without either entering
into the service of the Europeans or selling something to them.
They are passionately fond of brandy--women as well as men--not, as they
often confided to me, because they like the taste of it, but because it
is so delightful to be drunk; and they get drunk whenever an opportunity
offers, which is, happily, not very often. That the intoxication is
really the main object in view appears also from the fact that the
kifaks do not greatly value their morning dram, because it is not enough
to make them drunk. Several of them, therefore, agreed to bring their
portions into a common stock, one of them drinking the whole to-day,
the next to-morrow, and so on by turns. Thus they could get comfortably
drunk at certain fixed intervals. When the authorities discovered this
practice, however, they took means to stop it.
Unlike their sisters here in Europe, the Eskimo wives, as a rule, find
their husbands charming in their cups, and take great pleasure in the
sight of them. I must confess, indeed, that the Eskimos, both men and
women, seemed to me, with few exceptions, considerably less repulsive,
and, of course, considerably more peaceable, in a state of intoxication
than Europeans are apt to be under similar conditions.
When the Europeans first came to the country, the natives could not at
all understand the effects of brandy. When Christmas approached, they
came and asked Niels Egede when his people were going to be 'mad';
for they thought that 'madness' was an inseparable accompaniment of
the feast, and the recurring paroxysm had become to them a landmark
in the almanack. They afterwards ascertained that it was due to this
liquor, which they therefore called _silaerúnartok_--that is to say,
the thing which makes men lose their wits; but now they usually call it
_snapsemik_.
CHAPTER VII
CHARACTER AND SOCIAL CONDITIONS
When I see all the wrangling and all the coarse abuse of opponents
which form the staple of the different party newspapers at home, I now
and then wonder what these worthy politicians would say if they knew
anything of the Eskimo community, and whether they would not blush
before the people whom that man of God, Hans Egede, characterises as
follows:--'These ignorant, cold-blooded creatures, living without order
or discipline, with no knowledge of any sort of worship, in brutish
stupidity.' With what good right would these 'savages' look down upon
us, if they knew that here, even in the public press, we apply to each
other the lowest terms of contumely, as for example 'liar,' 'traitor,'
'perjurer,' 'lout,' 'rowdy,' &c., while they never utter a syllable of
abuse, their very language being unprovided with words of this class, in
which ours is so rich.
This contrast typifies a radical difference of character. The
Greenlander is of all God's creatures gifted with the best disposition.
Good-humour, peaceableness, and evenness of temper are the most
prominent features in his character. He is eager to stand on as good a
footing as possible with his fellow-men, and therefore refrains from
offending them and much more from using coarse terms of abuse. He is
very loth to contradict another even should he be saying what he knows
to be false; if he does so, he takes care to word his remonstrance in
the mildest possible form, and it would be very hard indeed for him to
say right out that the other was lying. He is chary of telling other
people truths which he thinks will be unpleasant to them; in such
cases he chooses the vaguest expressions, even with reference to such
indifferent things as, for example, wind and weather. His peaceableness
even goes so far that when anything is stolen from him, which seldom
happens, he does not as a rule reclaim it even if he knows who has taken
it. 'Give to every man that asketh of thee; and of him that taketh away
thy goods ask them not again' (Luke vi. 30).
The result is that there is seldom or never any quarrelling among them.
The Greenlanders cannot afford to waste time in wrangling amongst
themselves; the struggle to wring from nature the necessities of life,
that great problem of humanity, is there harder than anywhere else, and
therefore this little people has agreed to carry it on without needless
dissensions.
On the whole, the Greenlander is a happy being, his soul being light and
cheerful as a child's. If sorrow overtakes him, he may perhaps suffer
bitterly for the moment; but it is soon forgotten, and he is once more
as radiantly contented with existence as he used to be.
This happy levity of his saves him from brooding much upon the future.
If he has enough to eat for the moment, he eats it and is happy, even if
he has afterwards to suffer want--which is now, unfortunately, often the
case, and becomes so oftener year by year.
His carelessness has frequently been made a subject of bitter reproach
to him. The missionaries declare, no doubt rightly, that it makes him
inaccessible to civilisation, and have tried to exhort him to greater
providence and frugality. They quite overlook the fact that it is
written, 'Take ye no thought for the morrow.... Behold the fowls of the
air: for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; yet
your heavenly Father feedeth them.'
This levity of mind has also its bright side; it is even, in a way, the
Eskimo's chief strength.
Poverty and want have, with us, two consequences. The most immediate
is, of course, the physical suffering; but together with it and after
it comes mental suffering, 'the cares of bread,' the unceasing anxiety
which pursues one night and day, even in sleep, and embitters every hour
of life. In the majority of cases, this is probably what tells most upon
our poor people; but for this, the bodily sufferings, which, after all,
are generally transitory, would be easily supported. But it is precisely
from this phase of suffering that the Eskimo's elastic spirit saves him.
Even a long period of starvation and endurance is at once forgotten
so soon as he is fed; and the memory of bygone sufferings can no more
destroy his enjoyment and happiness, than can the fear of those which
to-morrow or the next day may bring. The only thing that really makes
him unhappy is to see others in want, and therefore he shares with them
whenever he has anything to share.
What chiefly cuts the Eskimos to the heart is to see their children
starving; 'and therefore,' says Dalager, 'they give food to their
children even if they themselves are ready to die of hunger; for they
live every day in the hope of a happy change of fortune--a hope which
really sustains life in many of them.'
In order to obtain a clearer conception of the radical difference
between the Eskimo character and ours, we ought to study the Eskimos in
their social relations.
It is not unusual to hear people express the opinion that the Eskimo
community is devoid of law and order. This is a mistake.
Originally, on the contrary, it was singularly well ordered. It had
its customs and its fixed rules for every possible circumstance, and
these customs and rules were handed down from generation to generation,
and were almost always observed; for the people are really incredibly
well-disposed, as even Egede himself, who has, as we have seen, written
so harshly of them, cannot help admitting in such a passage as, for
example, the following; 'It is wonderful in what peace and unity
they live with each other; for quarrelling and strife, hatred and
covetousness, are seldom heard of among them.[20] And even if one of
them happens to bear an ill-will to another, he does not let it be seen,
nor, on account of their great tenderness for each other, does he take
upon himself to attack him openly with violence or abuse, their language
being indeed devoid of the necessary words.' Observe that this is said
by a missionary of heathens, who, therefore, could not have developed
this peaceful temper through the influence of Christianity.
Then came the Europeans. Without knowing or understanding the people
or its requirements, they started from the assumption that it stood in
need of improvement in every possible way, and consequently set to work
to disturb and overturn the whole social order. They tried to force
upon the Eskimos a totally new character, gave them, all in a moment,
a new religion, and broke down their respect for their old customs
and traditions, of course without being able to give them new ones in
their place. The missionaries thought that they could make this wild,
free people of hunters into a civilised Christian nation, without for
a moment suspecting that at heart these people were in many respects
more Christian than themselves, and, among other things, like so many
primitive people, had put into practice the Christian doctrine of love
(charity) very much more fully than any Christian nation. The Europeans,
in short, conducted themselves in Greenland exactly as they are in the
habit of doing wherever they come forward in the name of the Christian
religion to 'make the poor heathen partakers in the blessings of eternal
truth.'
Very characteristic of this view is the following utterance of Egede's,
of which I have already spoken: 'The inborn stupidity and dulness of the
Greenlanders, their slothful and brutish upbringing, their wandering
and unstable way of life, certainly offer great hindrances to their
conversion, and ought as much as possible to be obviated and remedied.'
What a lack of comprehension! Only think, to want to obviate and remedy
the nomadic life of a tribe of hunters! What would remain to them? I
may add that he at another time proposes to attain this end by means of
'chastisement and discipline.'
The Eskimos at first listened in astonishment to the strangers. They
had hitherto been very well content with themselves and their whole way
of living; they did not know that man and his life on earth were so
miserable as the missionaries again and again assured them they were.
They had not, as Egede says, 'any just realisation of their own profound
corruption,' and had great difficulty in understanding a religion so
cruel as to condemn people to everlasting fire. They could quite well
recognise 'original sin' as a common characteristic of the _kavdlunaks_
(Europeans), for it was clear enough that many of them were bad; but the
_kaladlit_ (Eskimos) were good people, and ought without any trouble to
get into heaven.
When in 1728 a number of Danish men and women came to Godthaab to
colonise the country, many of them gave great offence to the heathens by
their evil ways, so that they 'often asked how it was that so many of
our people were so bad. Women (that is, Greenland women), they said, are
naturally quiet and modest; but these (the Europeans) were boisterous,
brazen, and lacking in all womanly propriety. Yet they surely all knew
God's will.' And the Greenlanders looked down upon and laughed at the
stupid, self-satisfied Europeans who preached so finely but practised so
little what they preached, and who, besides, knew nothing about hunting
or about all the things which the Eskimos regarded as the most important
in life.
The power which comes of a higher development gradually gave the
Europeans the upper hand, so that in the course of time they have
brought about a complete disturbance of the primitive social order, and
replaced it by an indeterminate mixture of Eskimo and modern European
habits and civilisation; while they have also effected a deplorable
mixture of breeds, and produced, without the help of the clergy, an
exceedingly mongrel population.
But, as the Eskimos are a very conservative people, we can still find
many important traces of their primitive condition.
The Greenlanders, like all nations of hunters, have a very restricted
sense of property; but it is a mistake to suppose it entirely
non-existent.
As regards the great majority of things, a certain communism prevails;
but this is always limited to wider or narrower circles according to
the nature of the thing in question. Ascending from the individual, we
find in the family the narrowest social circle; then come housemates and
the nearest kinsfolk, and then all the families of the village. Private
property is most fully recognised in the kaiak, the kaiak-dress and the
hunting-weapons, which belong to the hunter alone, and which no one
must touch. With them he supports himself and his family, and he must
therefore always be sure of finding them where he last laid them; it is
seldom that they are even lent to others. In former times, good hunters
would often own two kaiaks, but that is seldom the case now. Snow-shoes
may almost be regarded as belonging to implements of the chase; but as
they were introduced by the Europeans, they are not considered matters
of private property in the same degree; so that while an Eskimo seldom
or never touches another's weapons he will scarcely think twice about
using another's snow-shoes without asking leave.
Next to clothes and hunting implements come the tools which are used in
the houses, such as knives, axes, saws, skin-cutters, &c. Many of these,
and especially the women's sewing materials, are regarded as altogether
private property.
Other household implements are the common property of the family or
even of all the occupants of the house. The woman-boat and the tent
belong to the father of the family or to the family as a whole. The
house belongs to the family, and if several families live together they
own it in common.
The Eskimo knows nothing of private property in land; yet there seems
to be a recognised rule that no one shall pitch a tent or build a house
at a place where people are already settled without obtaining their
consent.
As an example of their consideration for each other in this respect I
may cite a custom which was thus described by Lars Dalager more than
a hundred years ago: 'In the summer, when they take their tents and
baggage with them, and think of settling down at a place where other
Greenlanders are living, they row very slowly towards the shore, and
when they come to within a gunshot of it they stop and lie upon their
oars without saying a word. If those on shore are equally silent and
give no sign, the newcomers think they are not wanted and therefore
row away as fast as possible to some unoccupied place. But if those
on shore, as generally happens, meet them with compliments, such as:
"Look here! here are good places for your tents, a good beach for your
woman-boats--come and rest after the labours of the day!" they, after a
little consideration, lay in to the shore where the others stand ready
to receive them and to help with the landing of the baggage. But when
they are starting again, the people of the place confine themselves
to helping in the launch of the woman-boat, and let the strangers
themselves see to the rest, unless they happen to be very good friends
or near relations, in which case they are despatched with the same marks
of honour with which they were received, and with some such phrases as
this: "Your visit will be a pleasant memory to us."'[21]
We may perhaps find the rudiments of the conception of private property
in land in the fact that where dams have been built in a salmon river
to gather the fish together, it is not regarded as the right thing if
strangers come and interfere with the dams or fish with nets in the
dammed-up waters, as Europeans were often in the habit of doing in
earlier times. This too is mentioned by Dalager.
Driftwood belongs to whoever first finds it floating in the sea,
wherever it may happen to be. In order to sustain his right to it, the
finder is bound to tow it ashore and place it above the high-water line,
if possible marking it in one way or another. For this form of property
the Eskimo has the greatest respect, and one who has left a piece of
drift-wood on the shore may be sure of finding it again even several
years after, unless Europeans have come along in the meantime. Any one
taking it would be regarded as a scoundrel.
As to their customs in lending and trading, I may again quote Dalager:
'If one man lends another anything, for example a boat, a harpoon, a
fishing-line, or other sea-implement, and it comes to harm--if, for
instance, the seal gets away with the harpoon, or the fish breaks the
line, or the fish or seal does injury to the boat--the owner must bear
the loss, the borrower making no reparation. But if anyone borrows darts
or implements without the knowledge of the owner, and they come to
harm, the borrower is bound to make good the damage. This happens very
seldom; for a Greenlander must be hard pushed before he will trouble his
neighbour to lend him anything, for fear of any harm occurring to it.
'When one makes a purchase from another, and the wares do not suit him,
he can return them even after a considerable time has elapsed.
'If one buys of another such costly things as a boat or a gun, and the
buyer is not in a position to satisfy the seller in ready money, he
is allowed credit until he can pay up. But if the debtor dies in the
meantime, the creditor never makes any claim. This,' adds Dalager, 'is
an inconvenient habit for the merchants of the colony, who are always
bound to give credit; whereof I have had several experiences, especially
this year, many of my debtors having departed this life, and thus
brought me into considerable perplexity.'
On his complaining to 'some influential and reasonable Greenlanders,'
they advised him 'to register his claim at once, but to let the man's
lice die in the grave (as they expressed it) before he proceeded to
execution.'
Beyond the articles above enumerated,[22] the Greenlander, according
to his primitive customs, can possess but little. Even if he had a
faculty for laying up riches, which he very seldom has, his needier
fellows would have the right to enforce a claim upon such of his
possessions as were not necessary for himself. Thus we find in Greenland
this unfortunate state of things: that the European immigrants, who
are in reality supported by the natives, often become rich and live
in abundance (at any rate, according to the Eskimo ideas), while the
natives themselves are in want.
The Greenlander has not even unrestricted rights over the game he
himself secures. There have been fixed rules from time immemorial
according to which it is divided, and there are only a few sorts of
animals which he can keep pretty well to himself and to his family. To
these belong the _atak_ or Greenland seal; but even in its case he must
give a portion of blubber to each of the kaiak-men who are present when
he takes it, and in the same way the children of the village, when he
comes home, receive a little scrap of blubber apiece. There are fixed
rules for other sorts of game, in accordance with which the whole animal
is divided among those who were present when it was killed or even among
all the houses of the village. This is especially the case with regard
to the walrus and several sorts of whales, as, for example, the white
whale; of this the hunter receives only a comparatively small portion,
even when he has killed it without help from others. When a whale of
any size is brought to shore, it is said to be quite a horrible sight
to see all the inhabitants of the village, armed with knives, flinging
themselves upon it to secure each his share, while it is still in the
water.
The scene is so sanguinary that Dalager declares that he has 'never
seen or heard of a whale being cut up without someone or other being
mutilated, or at least badly wounded, so great is the careless eagerness
with which several hundred people will rush upon the fish, each one
doing his best for himself, and, therefore, paying very little heed
as to where he slashes with his knife.' It is characteristic of their
amiability, however, that 'when one of them has thus come to harm, he
does not bear any grudge against the man who injured him, but regards it
as an accident.'
It is not only with respect to the larger animals that such rules hold
good; they also apply in the case of certain fishes. Thus if a halibut
is caught, the fisher is bound to give the other kaiak-men upon the
hunting-ground a piece of the skin for division among themselves; and
in addition to this, when he comes home, he generally gives some of the
animal to his housemates and neighbours.[23]
[Illustration: FISHING]
Even when a Greenlander has fulfilled all the aforesaid laws, he cannot
always keep to himself his own share of his booty. For instance, if he
makes a catch at a time when there is scarcity or famine in the village,
it is regarded as his duty either to give a feast or to divide his prey
among other families, who may perhaps have had to go for long without
fresh meat.
After a good haul, they make a feast, and eat as long as they can. If
everything is not eaten up, and there is plenty in the other houses
as well, what remains is stored against the winter; but in times of
scarcity it is regarded as the duty of those who have anything to
help those who have nothing, even to the last remnant of food. After
that, they starve in company, and sometimes starve to death. That some
people should live in profusion while others suffer need, as we see
it occurring daily in European communities, is an unheard of thing
in Greenland; except that the European settlers, with the habitual
providence of our race, have often stores of food while the Greenlanders
are starving.
It will be understood from what has been said that the tendency of
the law is, as much as possible, to let the whole village benefit by
the captured prey, so that no family shall be entirely dependent upon
the daily 'take' of those who provide for it. These are laws which
have developed through the experience of long ages, and have become
established by the habit of many generations.
The Greenlander is, on the whole, like a sympathetic child with respect
to the needs of others; _his first social law is to help his neighbour_.
Upon it, and upon their habit of clinging together through good and ill,
depends the existence of the little Greenland community. A hard life has
taught the Eskimo that however capable he may be, and able as a rule to
look after himself, there may come times when without the help of his
fellow-men he would have to go to the wall; therefore, it is best to
help others. 'Therefore, all things whatsoever ye would that men should
do to you, do ye even so to them'--this commandment, one of the first
and most important of Christianity, Nature itself has instilled into
the Greenlander, and he always acts up to it, which can scarcely be
affirmed of Christian nations. It is unfortunate that, as he advances in
civilisation, this commandment seems to lose its power over him.
Hospitality to strangers is a no less binding law among the Eskimos
than helpfulness to neighbours. The traveller enters the first hut he
comes to, and remains there as long as convenient. He is kindly received
and entertained with what the house can offer, even if he be an enemy.
When he proceeds on his way, he often takes a store of food along
with him; I have seen kaiak-men leave houses where they had remained
weatherbound for several days, loaded with halibut flesh, which had
been presented to them on their departure. No payment is ever made for
the entertainment. A European, too, is everywhere hospitably received,
although the Greenlanders would not think of making similar claims upon
his hospitality. Europeans, however, often make some sort of recompense
by treating their entertainers to coffee and such other delicacies as
they may have with them.
That hospitality is considered a very binding duty upon the east coast
of Greenland appears from several remarkable instances related by
Captain Holm. I may refer the reader to what he tells of the murderer
Maratuk, who had killed his stepfather. He was a bad man, and no one
liked him; yet when he presented himself at the house of the murdered
man's nearest relatives, he was received and entertained for a long
time--but they spoke ill of him when he had gone.
Hospitality is of course forced upon them by their natural surroundings;
for it often happens that they are overtaken by storms when far
from home, so that they are compelled to take refuge in the nearest
dwelling-place.
It seems, unhappily, as though hospitality had declined of late years on
the west coast. Doubtless it is once more the Europeans who have given
the example. And the fact that the people are by no means so well-to-do
as in earlier times, and are therefore less able to entertain strangers,
has no doubt tended in the same direction.
Many of my readers are probably of opinion that I am unjust to us
Europeans; but that is far from my intention. If the Europeans have not
had the best influence, the fact cannot always be directly laid to their
charge; circumstances have rendered it inevitable, in spite of excellent
intentions on their part. For example, they have conscientiously
laboured to foster the sense of property among the Greenlanders,
encouraging them to save up portions of their booty, instead of
lavishing it abroad in their usual free-handed way, and so forth; the
principle being that a more highly developed sense of property is the
first condition of civilisation. Whether this is a benefit may seem
doubtful to many; for my part I have no doubt about the matter. I must
admit, of course, that civilisation presupposes a much greater faculty
for the acquisition of worldly goods than the Eskimo is possessed of;
but what I cannot understand is what these poor people have to do with
civilisation. It assuredly makes them no happier, it ruins what is fine
and admirable in their character, makes them weaker in the struggle for
existence, and inevitably leads them to poverty and misery. But more of
this at a later opportunity.
The laws upon which the heathen community in Greenland rests are, as we
have seen, as nearly as possible socialism carried into practice. In
this respect, accordingly, they are more Christian than those of any
Christian community. The social reformers of to-day might learn much in
these high latitudes.
Spencer has in one of his books pointed out that mankind has
two religions. The first and most natural is the instinct of
self-preservation, which impels the individual to protect himself
against all outward opposition or hostile interference. This he calls
the religion of enmity. The other is the instinct of association, which
impels men to join fellowship with their neighbours; and to it we trace
the Christian doctrine that you should love your neighbour as yourself,
and should even love your enemies. This he calls the religion of
friendship. The former is the religion of the past, the latter that of
the future.
Precisely this religion of the future the Eskimo seems to have made his
own to a peculiar degree.
The men of some tribes or races are driven to combine with each other
by the pressure of human enemies, others by inhospitable natural
surroundings. The latter has been the case with the Eskimos. Where
the instinct of association and mutual help has been most strongly
developed, there has the community's power of maintaining itself been
greatest, and it has increased in numbers and in well-being; while other
small communities, with less of this instinct, have declined or even
succumbed altogether.
In so far as we believe with Spencer that the religion of friendship is
that of the future, that self-sacrifice for the benefit of the community
is the point towards which development is tending, we must assign to the
Eskimo a high place in the scale of nations.
It is a question, however, whether our forefathers also, in long bygone
ages, did not act upon a similar principle. It may be that social
development proceeds in a spiral with ever wider and wider convolutions.
Footnotes.
[20: 'When they have seen our dissolute sailors quarrelling and
fighting, they regard such behaviour as inhuman, and say: "They do
not treat each other as human beings." In the same way, if one of the
officers strikes a subordinate, they at once exclaim: "He behaves to his
fellow-men as if they were dogs."']
[21: Dalager, _Grönlandske Relationer_, Copenhagen, 1752, pp. 15-16.]
[22: Dogs, however, must be added to the list, and, in the case of the
North and East Greenlanders, dog-sledges.]
[23: When several are hunting in company, there are fixed rules to
determine to whom the game belongs. If two or more shoot at a reindeer,
the animal belongs to him who first hit it, even if he only wounded
it slightly. As to the rules for seal-hunting, Dalager says: 'If a
Greenlander strikes a seal or other marine animal with his light dart,
and it is not killed, but gets away with the dart, and if another then
comes and kills it with his darts, it nevertheless belongs to the first;
but if he has used the ordinary harpoon, and the line breaks, and
another comes and kills the animal, the first has lost his right to it.
If, however, they both throw at the same time and both harpoons strike,
the animal is cut lengthwise in two, and divided between them, skin and
all.' 'If two throw at a bird simultaneously, it is divided between
them.' 'If a dead seal is found with a harpoon fixed in it, if the owner
of the harpoon is known in the neighbourhood, he gets his weapon back,
but the finder keeps the seal.' Similar rules seem also to be in force
upon the east coast.]
CHAPTER VIII
THE POSITION AND WORK OF WOMEN
Many leading thinkers have remarked that the social position occupied by
its women affords the best criterion of a people's place in the scale of
civilisation. I am not entirely convinced that this is always the case;
but if it is, I think we have here another indication that the Eskimo
must be allowed to have reached a pretty high level of development.
For the Eskimo woman plays no insignificant part in the life of the
community.
It is true that, according to the primitive Eskimo conception, she is
practically regarded as the property of her husband, who has either
carried her off, or sometimes bought her, from her father. He can
therefore send her away when he pleases, or lend her, or exchange her
for another; and, when he can afford it, he can have more wives than
one. But as a rule she is well treated, and we find this conception
of her as the husband's chattel more clearly marked among many other
races; there is even a good deal of it in our own society, only under a
somewhat different disguise.
There are some who maintain that our women have plenty to do, but that
the great mistake is that their employments are not exactly the same
as those of the men. These people will be no better contented with the
state of affairs in Greenland, for there, too, the employments of the
two sexes are entirely distinct.
It is true that both sexes wear trousers, and have done so from
time immemorial; but nevertheless they have not yet attained to the
conception that there is little or no difference between men and women.
They hold that there are, among other things, certain essential physical
differences, and imagine that women are not as a rule so strong, active,
and courageous as men, and that they therefore are not so well fitted
for hunting and fishing. On the other hand, they do not think that men
are best fitted to have the care of children, to give them suck, and so
forth.
This is no doubt the reason for the very clear line of demarcation
between the employments proper to the two sexes in Greenland.
To the man's share falls the laborious life at sea, as hunter and
food-provider; but when he reaches the shore with his booty, he has
fulfilled the most important part of his social function. He is received
by his women-folk, who help him ashore; and while he has nothing to do
but to look after his kaiak and his weapons, it is the part of the women
to drag the booty up to the house. In earlier times, at any rate, it was
beneath the dignity of any hunter to lend a hand in this work, and so it
still is with the majority.
The women flay the seal and cut it up according to fixed rules, and the
mother of the family presides at the division of it. Further, it is the
women's duty to cook the food, to prepare the skins, to cover the kaiaks
and woman-boats, to make clothes, and to attend to all other domestic
tasks. In addition to this they build the houses, pitch the tents, and
row the woman-boats.
To row in a woman-boat was formerly, at any rate, quite beneath a
hunter's dignity, but it was the part of the father of the family to
steer it. Now we often see men sitting and rowing, especially if they
are hired by travelling Europeans. When you have become thoroughly
accustomed to their way of life, this makes an unpleasant impression;
the kaiak is and must be the indispensable condition of their existence,
and one feels that they ought to neglect no opportunity for exercising
themselves in its use. Even now no hunter of the first rank will
condescend to enter a woman-boat, except as steersman.
When the family is out reindeer-hunting, it is of course the men who
shoot the reindeer, while it often falls to the share of the women to
drag the game to the tent; and this is a laborious business, calling for
a great deal of endurance.
The only sort of fishery with which the women as a rule concern
themselves is caplin-fishing. The season for this is the early summer,
when the caplin appear on the coast in such dense shoals that they can
be drawn up in bucketsful into the woman-boats. The fishing continues
until a sufficient store is laid up against the winter; when once that
is done they care no more about them, however abundant they may be. The
fish are dried by being spread out on the rocks and stones; it is the
women's business to look after them, and, when they are dried, to pack
them together.
Sometimes they take part in seal-fishing, when a sort of battue is made,
the seals being hunted into narrow sounds and fiords and driven ashore.
Only a few cases are on record in which women have tried their hand at
kaiak-fishing.
Captain Holm mentions two girls at Imarsivik on the east coast who
had taken to the kaiak. The proportion between men and women in the
village was unfortunate, there being only five men out of a population
of twenty-one. We are unhappily not informed whether these women had
attained as great skill in hunting as their male comrades.
They had entirely adopted the masculine manner of living, dressed like
men and wore their hair like men. When they were allowed to select what
they wanted from among Holm's articles of barter, they did not choose
needles or other feminine implements, but preferred spear-heads for
their weapons. It must have been difficult to distinguish them from men;
I must doubtless have seen them when I was on the east coast in 1888,
without suspecting their sex. Holm mentions that one or two other girls
in the same place were also destined to be trained as hunters, but they
were as yet too young.
While the men pass most of their time on the sea, the women remain at
home in their houses; and there you will generally find them busily
occupied with one task or another, in contrast to those fair ones on
our side of the ocean who do nothing but eat, lounge about, gossip,
and sleep. When they go beyond the circle of their ordinary domestic
employments, it is generally to busy themselves with the weapons of the
men, ornamenting them with bone-carvings, &c.; these are their chief
pride.
The men generally sit at the outer edge of the sleeping-bench with
their feet on the floor; but the women always sit well back on the
bench, with their legs crossed, like a tailor on his table. Here they
sew, embroider, cut up skins with their peculiar crooked knives,
chew bird-skins, and in short attend to many of their most important
occupations, while their tongues are in ceaseless activity; for they
are very lively and seldom lack matter for conversation. I cannot,
unhappily, quite acquit them of the proverbial feminine loquacity; and,
if we may believe Dalager, they are not altogether free from graver
defects. He says: 'Lying and backbiting are chiefly to be found among
the women. The men, on the other hand, are much more honest, and shrink
from relating anything which they are unable to substantiate.'
Oh woman, woman, are you everywhere the same!
The very first thought to which Lokë gave birth, It was a lie, and he
bade it descend In a woman's shape to the men of earth.
The preparation of skins is a very important part of the women's
work, and as the methods are extremely peculiar, I shall give a short
description of them, as I learnt them from the Eskimos of the Godthaab
district. The processes vary according to the different sorts of skins
and the purposes for which they are destined.
Kaiak-skins are dressed either black or white.[24]
_The black skin_ (_erisâk_) is obtained by scraping the blubber from
the under side of the skin while it is fresh, and then steeping it for
a day or two in stale urine, until the hairs can be plucked out with
a knife. These being removed, the skin is rinsed in sea water, and in
summer it is then dried, but not in the sun. In winter, it is not dried,
but if possible preserved by being buried in snow. Whether in summer or
winter, however, it is best if, immediately after being washed, it can
be stretched on the kaiak so as to dry upon the framework. These skins
are dark because the grain or outer membrane of the skin of the seal is
either black or dark brown.
_White kaiak-skins_ (_únek_) are prepared in this way: While they are
quite fresh, and after the blubber has been roughly removed, they are
rolled up and laid in a tolerably warm place either out of doors or
in. There they lie until the hairs and the outer membrane can easily
be scraped away with a mussel-shell. For this purpose, however, the
Greenland beauties generally prefer to use their teeth, since they
can thus suck out a certain amount of blubber, which they consider
delicious. Then, in summer, the skins are hung up to dry--not in the
sun--upon a wooden rail, and are often turned in order that they may dry
evenly all over. In winter they are preserved, like the black skins, in
the snow. The dark membrane being scraped away, these skins are quite
light-coloured or white when they are finished.
It must be noted that neither of these sorts of skins is stretched while
drying.
Both sorts are used for woman-boats as well as for kaiaks.
For the kaiak, the white skins, which ought always to be kept well
greased with seal-blubber, are considered best in summer; the black,
on the other hand, which are never greased, are preferred in winter. A
well-appointed hunter, therefore, ought to re-cover his kaiak twice a
year: nowadays, however, he can generally do so only once, and sometimes
only once in two years.
If the seal-skins are to be used for kamiks (shoes), the blubber and
the inner layer of the skin itself is scraped away with a crooked
knife (_ulo_) upon a board made for the purpose out of a whale's
shoulder-blade. When the skin has been scraped thin it is steeped for
a day or so in stale urine until the hairs can be plucked off with a
knife. This done, the skin is stretched, by means of small bone pegs,
upon the earth or the snow, and dried. Then it is rubbed until it is
soft, and the process is complete. As this sort of skin has its outer
membrane intact, it is of a dark colour.
White kamik-skins are prepared up to a certain point like the foregoing,
but when the hairs have been removed they are dipped in warm water (not
too warm) until the black membrane is loosened, and then steeped in sea
water, as cold as possible. If all the membrane is not removed, the skin
is again dipped alternately in warm water and sea water until it comes
away. Then the skin is pegged out and dried like the black skin.
The white skins, not being as strong and water-tight as the black, are
used almost entirely by women, who either keep them white or dye them in
different ways.
Sole leather for the kamiks is prepared in the same way as the black
kaiak-skin, but is pegged out while drying.
Skins for kaiak-gloves are prepared at first like the black kamik-skins,
but after the hairs have been removed they are dressed with blood,
and then rolled together and put away. This is repeated two or three
times until they become entirely black. Then they are stretched for
drying--in summer out of doors, but in winter in the houses. This skin
is wonderfully water-tight.
If the seal-skin is to be prepared with its hairs on, as for example,
for the inner sock of the kamiks or for jackets, it is scraped on the
blubber side with a crooked knife, just like the ordinary kamik-skin.
Then it is steeped in water, and washed with soft soap; whereupon it is
rinsed out in clean water, stretched, and dried as above described. It
is then made soft and pliant by rubbing, and is ready for use.
Reindeer-skin is simply dried and rubbed, no water being applied to it.
In preparing bird-skins, the first step is carefully to dry the
feathers; then the skins are turned inside out, and the layer of fat is
scraped away as thoroughly as possible with a mussel-shell or a spoon,
and is eaten--it is held a great delicacy. Then the skins are hung up
under the roof to dry. After a few days, the last remnants of fat are
removed from them by means of chewing, then they are dried again, then
washed in warm water with soda and soap three times over, then rinsed
out in very cold water, pressed, and hung up for the final drying. If
the feathers are to be removed so that only the down is left, as, for
example, in the case of the eider-duck, they are plucked out when the
skin is half dry. Then it is thoroughly dried and cut up, and so is
ready for use.
The chewing above-mentioned is a remarkable process. The operator takes
the dry skin, almost dripping with fat, and chews away at one spot until
all the fat is sucked out and the skin is soft and white; then the
chewing area is slowly widened, the skin gradually retreating further
and further into the mouth, until it often disappears entirely, to be
spat out again at last with every particle of fat chewed away. This
industry is for the most part carried on by the women and children, and
is very highly relished by reason of the quantity of fat it enables
them to absorb. In times of scarcity, the men are often glad enough to
be allowed to do their share. It is a strange scene that is presented
when one enters a house and finds the whole of its population thus
engaged in chewing, each with his skin in his mouth. The excellence
of the Greenland bird-skins is due to this process. How few of those
who have admired the exquisite eider-down rugs which adorn so many a
luxurious European home, have any idea of the stages through which they
have gone! And how many a European beauty, resplendent in costly skins,
would shudder if she could see in a vision all the more or less inviting
mouths through which her finery has passed, up there in the far North,
before it came to deck her swan-like form!
On the whole, the Greenland women make great use of their teeth, now to
stretch the skins, now to hold them while they are being scraped, and
again for the actual scraping. It is rather startling to us Europeans to
see them take up a skin out of the tub of fetid liquor in which it has
been steeping, and straightway fix their teeth in it and begin to dress
it. The mouth, in fact, is a third hand to them; and therefore the front
teeth of old Eskimo women are often worn away to the merest stumps.
The sinews of seals, whales, and reindeer are used as thread in
making garments out of skins. The sinews are simply dried. For sewing
kaiak-jackets, kaiak-gloves, and sometimes for kamiks, the gullet of
the saddleback seal, the ringed seal, the bladder-nose seal, the small
mottled seal, and the cormorant is also used. The outer membranes of
the gullet are cut away while it is quite fresh, and then it is drawn
over a round stick prepared for the purpose, and greased with blubber.
Sometimes the gullet is also scraped with mussel-shells. When it has
dried upon the stick and has been cut lengthwise into narrow strips, it
is ready for use. The thread thus obtained has this advantage over the
sinew-thread that it does not soften in water.
The Greenland women are very capable at their work, and are especially
skilful with their needle. One has only to examine the seams of a
kaiak-skin, a kaiak-jacket, or a gut-skin shirt to convince oneself
of this. But their skill is still more conspicuous in the admirable
embroideries with which they ornament their trousers, kamiks, and other
garments. On the west coast, where they have learned the use of dyes
from the Europeans, they now execute these embroideries with small
patches of hide of different colours, which they sew together into a
sort of mosaic. They work entirely in freehand, without any pattern to
go by, and display great neatness and precision, to say nothing of their
sense of colour and of form.
In living with the Eskimos in their homes, one does not at all receive
the impression that the women are particularly oppressed or slighted. It
seemed to me, on the contrary, that the housewives of Godthaab and the
surrounding district often played a very important part in the domestic
economy, in some cases even ruling the roost. Judging from my own
experience, then, I should say that there is a good deal of exaggeration
in what Dalager says of the women, that 'even what ought to be the best
hours of their life, from the time they come to maturity, are nothing
but a long chain of trouble, contempt, and sorrow.'
It cannot be denied that in social life one observes a certain
difference of status between men and women. Thus at meal-times or
at coffee-parties, the hunters and the men of most importance are
first helped, then the less important males, and finally the women
and children. Dalager, in last century, makes a similar remark in his
description of a banquet. The men, he says, take the leading place,
and tell each other their adventures, while 'the women too have in the
meantime formed a little party by themselves in another corner, where,
no doubt, nothing but empty chatter is to be heard.' But, if it comes to
that, such a description would apply in several other parts of the world
besides Greenland.
I must admit, however, that the Eskimo men sometimes show themselves
sadly deficient in politeness towards the ladies. For example, 'when
the women are hard at work, building houses, drawing water, or carrying
heavy burdens of one sort or another, the men stand by with their hands
thrust into the breast of their jackets, and laugh at them, without
offering the slightest help.' But is this so very much worse than what
we often see in Norway, when a Bergen peasant, returning from market,
lights his pipe, stretches himself in the stern of the boat, and lets
his women row him home?
That women are not held in such high esteem as men is also unhappily
evident from the fact that when a man-child is born, the father is
jubilant, and the mother beams with pride, while if it be a girl, they
both weep, or are at any rate very ill content.
But is this so very much to be wondered at? With all his goodness of
heart, the Eskimo is, after all, no more than a man. The boy is, of
course, regarded as the kaiak-man and hunter of the future, the support
of the family in the old age of his parents, in short as a direct
addition to the working capital; while they no doubt think that there
will always be plenty of girls in the world.
The same difference is observable in the bringing-up of the children,
the boys being always regarded as the food-providers of the future, who
must in every way be well cared for; and if a boy's parents die, his
position is never a whit the worse, for all the neighbours are quite
willing to receive him into their houses and do all they can to make a
man of him. With the girls it is different; if they lose their parents
and have no relations, they can always, indeed, have plenty of food, but
they have often to put up with the most miserable clothing, so that it
is pitiful to see them. When they come to the marriageable age, however,
they stand on pretty much the same level as girls who have been more
fortunately situated; for no such thing as a dowry is known, and their
chances simply depend upon 'beauty and solidity, which shall secure them
favour in the eyes of the young men--lacking these they are despised,
and will never be married, since there are always plenty to choose
from.' Of this, however, they cannot complain, for the men themselves
are no better off. If they are not strong enough to make good hunters,
as sometimes happens, they have poor enough chances of ever finding a
mate, and are looked down upon by every one.
That boys are regarded very much in the light of capital appears from
the fact that although widows are not in demand in the marriage-market,
it sometimes happens that they find a husband, 'especially if they have
a family of boys; in that case they are pretty sure one day to make a
match with a respectable widower.'
Even in death, women seem to be placed at a disadvantage, as we may
conclude from the following remark of Dalager's: 'It sometimes happens
that a woman of no great importance, when mortal sickness falls upon
her, is buried alive. A horrible case of this sort occurred a short time
ago at this very place. Several people declared that they had heard the
woman, a long time after her burial, calling out from her grave and
begging for something to drink. If you remonstrate with them upon such
inhuman cruelty, they answer that when the patient cannot recover, it
is better that she should be put away in her last resting-place, than
that the survivors should go through the agony of death in observing her
misery. But this reasoning will not hold good; for if any male person
were thus barbarously dealt with, it would be regarded as the most
brutal murder.' Yes, this was ill done; but fortunately such events are
very exceptional. Their real reason, moreover, is probably to be found
in the Eskimos' intense dread of touching dead bodies, which makes them
clothe the dying, whether men or women, in their grave-clothes, often
long before death occurs, preparing everything for the carrying out of
the corpse and its burial, while the patient himself lies and looks on.
For the same reason, they shrink from assisting one who has met with
an accident at sea, if he seems to be already in the pinch of death,
fearing lest they should happen to lay hands upon him after life has
departed.
Footnotes.
[24: The skins used, as before-mentioned (p. 45) are usually those of
the saddleback seal or hood seal; but the skin of the bearded seal is
also used, and occasionally that of the ringed seal or even of the
mottled or common seal (_Phoca vitulina_).]
CHAPTER IX
LOVE AND MARRIAGE
Love, that power which permeates all creation, is by no means unknown
in Greenland; but the Greenland variety of it is a simple impulse of
nature, lacking the many tender shoots and intricate blossoms of the
hot-house plant which we know by this name.
It does not make the lover sick of soul, but drives him to sea, to the
chase; it strengthens his arm and sharpens his sight; for his one desire
is to become an expert hunter, so that he can lead his Naia home as his
bride, and support a family. And the tender young Naia stands upon the
outlook-rock gazing after him; she sees with what speed and certainty
he shoots ahead, how gracefully he wields the paddle, and how lightly
his kaiak dances over the waves. Then he disappears in the far distance;
but she still gazes over the endless blue expanse, which heaves over the
grave of so many a bold kaiak-man.
At last he comes home again, towing his booty; she rushes down to the
beach and helps the other women to bring his prey ashore, while he
quietly puts his weapons together and goes up to his house.
But one evening he does not return, for all her waiting and gazing; all
the others have come--him the sea has taken. She weeps and weeps, she
can never survive the blow. But her despair does not last long; after
all, there are other men in the world, and she begins to look on them
with favour.
The pure-bred Eskimo generally marries as soon as he can provide for a
wife. The motive is not always love; 'the right one' has perhaps not yet
appeared on the scene; but he marries because he requires a woman's help
to prepare his skins, make his clothes, and so forth. He often marries,
it is said, before he is of an age to beget children. On the east coast,
indeed, according to Holm, it is quite common for a man to have been
married three or four times before that age.[25]
Marriage in Greenland was, in earlier times, a very simple matter. When
a man had a mind to a girl, he went to her house or tent, seized her
by the hair or wherever he could best get hold of her, and dragged her
without further ceremony home to his house,[26] where her place was
assigned her upon the sleeping-bench. The bridegroom would sometimes
give her a lamp and a new water-bucket, or something of that sort, and
that concluded the matter. In Greenland, however, as in other parts
of the world, good taste demanded that the lady in question should
on no account let it appear that she was a consenting party, however
favourably disposed towards her wooer she might be in her heart. As a
well-conducted bride among us feels it her duty to weep as she passes
up the church, so the Eskimo bride was bound to struggle against her
captor, and to wail and bemoan herself as much as ever she could. If she
was a lady of the very highest breeding, she would weep and 'carry on'
for several days, and even run away home again from her husband's house.
If she went too far in her care for the proprieties, it would sometimes
happen, we are told, that the husband, unless he was already tired of
her, would scratch her a little on the soles of the feet, so that she
could not walk; and before the sores were healed, she was generally a
contented housewife.
When they first saw marriages conducted after the European fashion,
they thought it very shocking that the bride, when asked if she would
have the bridegroom for her husband, should answer Yes. According to
their ideas, it would be much more becoming for her to answer No, for
they regard it as a shameful thing for a young lady to reply to such a
question in the affirmative. When assured that this was the custom among
us, they were of opinion that our women-folk must be devoid of modesty.
The simple method of marriage above described is still the only one
known upon the east coast of Greenland, and a good deal of violence
is sometimes employed in the carrying off of the bride. The lady's
relations, however, stand quite unmoved and look on. It is all a
private matter between the parties, and the Greenlander's love of a
good understanding with his fellows makes him chary of mixing himself
up in the affairs of others.
It sometimes happens, of course, that the young lady really objects to
her wooer; in that case she continues her resistance until she either
learns to possess her soul in patience, or until her captor gives her
up.
Graah relates a curious instance[27] proving how difficult it is for
an onlooker to determine what are really the lady's sentiments. An
able-bodied young rowing-woman in his boat, an East Greenlander named
Kellitiuk, was one day seized and carried to the mountains by one
of her countrymen named Siorakitsok, in spite of the most violent
resistance on her part. As Graah believed that she really disliked
him, and as her friends affirmed the same thing, he went after her
and rescued her. A few days later, as he was preparing to set forth
on his journey again, and the boat had just been launched, Kellitiuk
jumped into it, lay down under the thwarts, and covered herself with
bags and skins. It soon appeared that this was because Siorakitsok had
just landed on the island, bringing his father with him to back him up.
While Graah's back was turned for a moment, he jumped into the boat and
dragged the fair one out of her hiding-place. Convinced that her brutal
wooer was really repulsive to her, Graah thought it his duty to rescue
her. When he came up, the suitor had already got her half out of the
boat, and his father stood by on shore ready to lend a hand. Graah tore
her from his grasp, and recommended him instead to try his luck with
'Black Dorothy,' another of the rowing-women, whom he would have been
glad to get rid of. The baffled bridegroom listened to him quietly,
'muttered some inaudible words in his beard, and went away with
wrathful and threatening looks.' The father did not take his son's fate
much to heart, 'but helped us to load the boat,' says Graah, 'and then
bade us a no doubt well-meant farewell.' When they were about to start,
however, Kellitiuk was nowhere to be found, although they shouted and
searched for her all over the little island. She had evidently hidden
herself away somewhere, and they set off without her; so it appears
that she had, after all, no irreconcilable antipathy to Siorakitsok.
Among the heathen Greenlanders, divorce is as simple an affair as
marriage. When a man grows tired of his wife--the reverse is of rarer
occurrence--he need only, says Dalager, 'lie apart from her on the
sleeping-benches, without speaking a word. She at once takes the
hint,' and next morning gathers all her garments together and quietly
returns to her parents' house, trying, as well as she can, to appear
indifferent. How many husbands at home could wish that their wives were
Greenlanders!
If a man takes a fancy to another man's wife, he takes her without
ceremony, if he happens to be the stronger. Papik, a highly respected
and skilful hunter at Angmagsalik, on the east coast, took a fancy to
the young wife of Patuak, and, towing a second kaiak behind his own, he
set off for the place where Patuak lived. He went to his tent, carried
off the woman, made her get into the second kaiak, and paddled away
with her. Patuak, being younger than Papik, and not to be compared with
him in strength and skill, had to put up with the loss of his wife.[28]
There are cases on the east coast of women who have been married to
half-a-score of different men. Utukuluk, at Angmagsalik, had tried
eight husbands, and the ninth time she remarried husband No. 6.[29]
Divorce is especially easy so long as there are no children. When the
woman has had a child, especially if it be a boy, the bond is apt to
become more lasting.
On the east coast, if a man can keep more than one wife, he takes
another; most of the good hunters, therefore, have two, but never
more.[30] It appears that in many cases the first wife does not like
to have a rival; but sometimes it is she that suggests the second
marriage, in order that she may have help in her household work.
Another motive may also come into play. 'I once asked a married woman,'
says Dalager, 'why her husband had taken another wife? "I asked him to
myself," she replied, "for I'm tired of bearing children."'
The first wife seems always to be regarded as the head of the
household, even if the husband shows a preference for the second.
Polyandry seldom occurs. Nils Egede mentions a woman who had two
husbands, but both she and they were angekoks.[31]
On the introduction of Christianity, these primitive and simple
marriage customs were of course abolished on the west coast of
Greenland, where people are now united with religious ceremonies as in
Europe. The bride, too, is no longer required to offer so determined a
resistance.
But if it was formerly easy to get oneself a wife, under the new
order of things it has become difficult enough. For the ceremony
must necessarily be performed by a clergyman, the native catechists,
who fill the place of the pastors in the various villages, not being
reckoned good enough. If, then, you happen to live at a place which the
pastor visits only once a year, or perhaps once in two years, you must
take care to come to an understanding with the lady of your choice just
in time to seize the opportunity. If a young fellow should take it into
his head to marry just after the pastor has gone away, he must wait a
year, or perhaps two, before he can go through the necessary ceremony,
unless, indeed, he and his bride are prepared to take a long journey in
search of clerical ministrations.
Such a state of things would inevitably lead many to form less binding
connections, or to marry without the help of the clergy, even if the
Greenlanders were naturally less inclined towards such laxity than as a
matter of fact they are. I have heard of a case in which a cleric, on
coming to a certain village after a two years' absence, had to confirm
a girl, marry her, and christen her child on the same day. This may be
called summary procedure. Such an arrangement cannot but be hurtful,
tending to undermine all respect for the ceremony whose impressiveness
it is sought to enhance by making the clergy alone competent to
officiate at it.
On the introduction of Christianity, polygamy was of course abolished.
The missionaries even insisted that when a man who was married to two
wives became a Christian, he should put away one of them. In 1745, an
Eskimo at Frederikshaab had a mind to be baptised, 'but when it came to
a question of putting away his second wife, he began to hesitate, for
he had two sons by her, whom he would thus lose. In the end he changed
his mind and went his way.'[32] For this one can scarcely blame him.
Similar cases, in which it is required that a man shall put away one
of his wives, with whom he has perhaps lived happily for many a year,
still occur now and then, when a Greenlander from the east coast settles
on the west coast (near Cape Farewell) and is baptised. The hardship
which the man is thus forced to inflict upon the woman need scarcely
be insisted upon. Even to Dalager, in last century, it appeared an
injustice, and 'how far it conflicted with the ordinances of God that a
man should have more than one wife, seemed to him a problem.'
Polygamy, however, is still occasionally to be found upon the west
coast, a second wife being apparently one of the indulgences which first
occur to a Greenlander's mind when he is inclined to kick over the
traces.
In Greenland, as elsewhere, the position of women in marriage differs
according to the circumstances of each particular case. As a rule the
man is the master; but I have also seen cases, doubtless exceptional, in
which the grey mare has been the better horse.
Among the primitive Eskimos, the wife seems practically to have been
regarded as the husband's property. It sometimes happens on the east
coast that a formal bargain and sale precedes the marriage, the
bridegroom paying the father a harpoon, or something of the sort,
for the privilege of wedding his lovely daughter. Sometimes, on the
other hand, the father will pay a hunter of credit and renown to
take his daughter off his hands, and the daughter is bound to marry
at her father's bidding.[33] Moreover, it often occurs on the east
coast that two hunters agree to exchange wives for a longer or shorter
period--sometimes for good. Temporary exchanges of wives still occur,
doubtless, on the west coast as well, especially during the summer
reindeer-hunting, when the people are living in tents in the interior of
the country. At these times they allow themselves many liberties which
cannot be controlled by the missionaries.
Married people as a rule live on very good terms with each other. I have
never heard an unkind word exchanged between man and wife; and this is
the general experience. Dalager declares that 'the longer a married
couple live together, the more closely are they united in affection,
until at last they pass their old age together like innocent children.'
They are, on the whole, exceedingly considerate towards each other, and
may sometimes be seen to exchange caresses. They do not kiss as we do,
however, but press their noses together or snuff at each other. This
process I am unfortunately unable to describe, as I lack the necessary
practice.
On the east coast, too, the relation between husband and wife seems to
be very good as a rule, though it appears, according to Captain Holm,
that scenes of violence are not unknown.
A certain Sanimuinak one day came home to his spouse Puitek, bringing
with him a second wife, the young Utukuluk (the before-mentioned lady of
the nine husbands), whereupon Puitek became angry and fell to scolding
her husband. This made him so furious that he seized her by the top-knot
and struck her with his clenched fist on the back and in the face. At
last he seized a knife and stabbed her in the knee, so that the blood
spurted forth.[34] Holm also relates a case in which a man received a
sound thrashing from his wife. Scenes of this sort, however, are very
rare among this peaceable people.
Any very deep love between man and wife is no doubt exceptional, depth
of feeling being, on the whole, uncommon among the Eskimos. If one
dies the survivor is generally pretty easily consoled. 'If a man loses
his wife,' says Dalager, 'not many of his own sex come to condole with
him. The women-folk, on the other hand, squat along the inner edge of
the sleeping-benches in his house and bewail the deceased, while he,
in response, sobs and wipes his nose. After a short time, however, he
begins to adorn himself as he used to in his bachelor days, polishing up
his kaiak and his weapons with particular care, these being the things
with which a Greenlander always makes the greatest show. When, at sea,
he comes dashing up to his comrades in this brilliant array, they say
to each other: "Look, look--here comes a new brother-in-law." If he
overhears it, he says nothing, but smiles to himself.' It is highly
incumbent upon a widower's new wife to lament her own imperfections
and belaud the virtues of her predecessor: 'When
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