The Esquimaux possess wonderful powers of drawing. They know scarcely anything of perspective, but they can make their sketches tell their own tale; while in drawing from memory a chart of a coast, their skill is really admirable. In Captain Hall’s book there are fac-similes of several native charts and sketches, the most curious of which is one which was not only drawn but engraved on wood by the native draughtsman. It represents a woman with a child nestling in the hood behind her back, and is quite equal in execution to wood-cutting in the earlier stages of the art. The point about it which most strikes a practised eye is the force and fidelity with which the artist has marked the texture of the different parts of the dress; the fur coat and trowsers edged with leather, and the white-edged, fur-lined hood, are most admirably managed.
Of music and musical instruments the Esquimaux know little. They have the Amna-aya song, which has already been mentioned, and they possess one national musical instrument, called the “keeloun.” This is something like a tambourine, being formed of a very thin deer skin, or the envelope of the whale’s liver, stretched over one side of a wooden hoop. A handle is attached to the hoop, and the instrument is struck, not upon the membrane, but upon the hoop.
As a nation they are remarkable for two good qualities, honesty and hospitality. There are, of course, exceptions to every rule, and such is the case with the Esquimaux. But the early voyagers found that they might leave their knives and axes on shore, and that not one of them would be touched. Now, to an Esquimaux a steel knife or axe is more valuable than a box full of sovereigns would be to us, and the honesty of the Esquimaux was as much tried by the sight of these articles as would be that of our London poor if a heap of sovereigns were left lying on the pavement.
As to hospitality, their food is considered to be merely common property, so that if one of the Esquimaux should kill a seal, all his friends and neighbors assemble as a matter of course to assist in eating it; and even though the family of the successful hunter should be starving, he will nevertheless invite all his friends to partake of the food. In this way, it often happens that an entire seal barely affords a single meal to all who come to share it.
Funerals among the Esquimaux are rather variable in their forms. Generally, when a sick person is on the point of death, a new igloo is built, and carefully fitted with lamp, provisions, and other furniture. The dying person is carried in—not through the regular doorway, but through a breach in the wall—placed on the couch, the lamp lighted, and the provisions laid ready to hand. The attendants then leave the igloo, build up the openings, and never trouble themselves again about the sick person. The principal reason why the dying are left alone is, that if the relatives are in the igloo at the moment of death, they are obliged to throw away the dresses which they were wearing, and never to wear them again. None of them can tell the reason for this strange belief, but it is so strongly ingrained that no argument can induce them to abandon it.
Sometimes the body of a dead person is simply buried in a hole scooped in the snow, and sometimes it is laid upon a ledge of rock, accompanied by the lamp, kettle, knives, spears, and dresses which the deceased used while in life. When a child dies, all its toys are placed with it in the grave, that it may be supplied with them in the next world.
The demeanor of the Esquimaux with regard to their dead is a most extraordinary mixture of affection and unconcern. After having buried the body, whether alive or dead does not matter, they care nothing about it, and this strange insensibility is even displayed before the burial. For example, a man’s wife had died, leaving a child of a few weeks old, which in a short time followed its mother. The father was very sorrowful for his dying child, and was seen in the night lifting the curtains of its bed as it lay ill on board ship, and sighing deeply. But, on the next day, when he came to the ship, he made no scruple of laying his meat on the body of the child, and using it as a table at breakfast.
Once, when Captain Lyon visited the grave where an Esquimaux named Pekooya had been laid, he found that the wolves and dogs had uncovered the body, and had eaten a considerable portion of it. He was naturally shocked at the scene, but the natives treated it with absolute indifference, and though the father and a brother of Pekooya were witnesses of the desecration, they would not cover up the mangled body, and only laughed when Captain Lyon remonstrated with them. Moreover, when the body was buried, it was covered so slightly with snow that the first day’s thaw would melt off all the snow, and leave it to the mercy of the dogs.
Judging from such a fact as this, it might be thought that the Esquimaux have but little natural affection, and that they are indifferent to the loss of their nearest relatives. Such, however, is not the case. An Esquimaux never passes the grave of an acquaintance without depositing a piece of meat as an offering, and the surviving relatives often visit the burying-place of their dead, and sit there for hours, talking to them as if they were still alive. On comparing all the conflicting accounts respecting the Esquimaux and their dead, it seems likely that they consider the dead body as something that the deceased once possessed, but cast away at death, and that, as their departed friend abandoned the body, they need take no trouble about so worthless an article.
If the reader will refer to the [illustration] on page 1347, he will see that the horizon is illuminated by strange and wild-looking dashes of light. These represent the Aurora Borealis, as it often appears in those parts,—not pale and flickering as we see it in these comparatively southern regions, but blazing with all imaginable hues, and giving out a light that stands the natives in stead of the sun, which in those latitudes is absent for months at a time. The glory and magnificence of these displays can only be described by those who have seen them, and very inadequately even by such.