Part 4

Under the head of religious rites we may include medicine, which is almost entirely within the domain of superstition. The great warmth of affection which, amid their apparent apathy, the natives cherish for each other, urges them, when their friends are seriously ill, to seek with the utmost eagerness for a remedy; an order of men has thus arisen, entirely different from the rest of society, uniting the characters of priests, physicians, sorcerers, and sages. Nor are they quite strangers to some branches of the healing art: in external hurts or wounds, the cause of which is obvious, they apply various simples of considerable power, chiefly drawn from the vegetable world. Chateaubriand enumerates the ginseng of the Chinese, the sassafras, the three-leaved hedisaron, and a tall shrub called bellis, with decoctions from which they cure wounds and ulcers in a surprising manner. With sharp-pointed bones they scarify inflamed or rheumatic parts; and shells of gourds, filled with combustible matters, serve instead of cupping-glasses. They learned the art of bleeding from the French, but employed it sometimes rashly and fatally, by opening the vein in the forehead. They now understand it better; but their favourite specific in all internal complaints is the vapour-bath. To procure this, a small hut or shed is framed of bark, or branches of trees, covered with skins, and made completely tight on every side, leaving only a small hole through which the patient is admitted. By throwing red hot stones into a pot of water, it is made to boil, and thus emit a warm steam, which, filling the hut, throws the patient into a most profuse perspiration. When he is completely bathed in it, he rushes out, even should it be in the depth of winter, and throws himself into the nearest pond or river; and this exercise, which we should be apt to think sufficient to produce death, is proved by their example, as well as that of the Russians, to be safe and salutary. As a very large proportion of their maladies arise from cold and obstructed perspiration, this remedy is by no means ill chosen. They attach to it, however, a supernatural influence, calling it the sorcerer’s bath, and employ it not only in the cure of diseases, but in opening their minds whenever they are to hold a council on great affairs, or to engage in any important undertaking.

All cases of internal malady, or of obscure origin, are ascribed, without hesitation, to the secret agency of malignant powers, or spirits. The physician, therefore, must then invest himself with his mystic character, and direct all his efforts against these invisible enemies. His proceedings are various, and prompted, seemingly, by a mixture of delusion and imposture. On his first arrival, he begins to sing and dance round the patient, invoking his god with loud cries. Then, pretending to search out the seat of the enchantment, he feels his body all over, till cries seem to indicate the bewitched spot. He then rushes upon it like a madman, or an enraged dog, tears it with his teeth, and often pretends to show a small bone, or other object, which he has extracted, and in which the evil power had been lodged. His disciples, next day, renew the process, and the whole family join in the chorus; so that, setting aside the disease, a frame of iron would appear necessary to withstand the remedies. Another contrivance is, to surround the cabin with men of straw, and wooden masks of the most frightful shapes, in hopes of scaring away the mysterious tormentor. Sometimes a painted image is formed, which the doctor pierces with an arrow, pretending that he has thereby vanquished the evil spirit. On other occasions, he professes to discover a mysterious desire, which exists in the patient unknown to himself, for some particular object; and this, however distant or difficult of attainment, the poor family strain all their efforts to procure. It is alleged, that when the malady appears hopeless, he fixes upon something completely beyond reach, the want of which is then represented as the cause of death. The deep faith reposed in these preposterous remedies caused to the missionaries much difficulty, even with their most intelligent converts. When a mother found one of her children dangerously ill, her pagan neighbours came round, and assured her that if she would allow it to be blown upon, and danced, and howled round in the genuine Indian manner, there would be no doubt of a speedy recovery. They exhorted her to take it into the woods, where the black-robes, as they called the Christian priests, would not be able to find her. The latter could not fully undeceive their disciples, because in that less enlightened age, they themselves were impressed with the notion that the magicians communicated with, and derived aid from the prince of darkness; all they could do, therefore, was to exhort them resolutely to sacrifice any benefit that might be derived from so unholy a source. This, however, was a hard duty; and they record with pride the example of a Huron wife, who, though much attached to her husband, and apparently convinced that he could be cured by this impious process, chose rather to lose him. In other respects, the missionaries suffered from the superstitious creed of the natives, who, even when unconverted, believed them to possess supernatural powers, which it was suspected they sometimes employed to introduce the epidemic diseases with which the country was from time to time afflicted. They exclaimed, it was not the demons that made so many die—it was prayer, images, and baptism; and when a severe pestilential disorder followed the murder of a Frenchman, who fell by their hands, they imagined that the priests were thus avenging the death of their countryman.

We have still to describe the most prominent object of the Indian’s passions and pursuits—his warfare. It is that which presents him under the darkest aspect, effacing almost all his fine qualities, and assimilating his nature to that of fiends. While the most cordial union reigns between the members of each tribe, they have neighbours whom they regard with the deepest enmity, and for whose extermination they continually thirst. The intense excitement which war affords, and the glory which rewards its achievements, probably give the primary impulse; but after hostilities have begun, the feeling which keeps them alive is revenge. Every Indian who falls into the power of an enemy, and suffers the dreadful fate to which the vanquished are doomed, must have his ghost appeased by a victim from that hostile race. Thus every contest generates another, and a more deeply embittered one. Nor are they strangers to those more refined motives which urge civilized nations to take arms—the extension of their boundaries, an object pursued with ardent zeal, and the power of their tribe, which last they seek to promote by incorporating in its ranks the defeated bands of their antagonists. Personal dislike and the love of distinction often impel individuals to make inroads into a hostile territory, even contrary to the general wish; but when war is to be waged by the whole nation, more enlarged views, connected with its interest and aggrandizement, guide the decision. To most savages, however, long-continued peace becomes irksome and unpopular; and the prudence of the aged can with difficulty restrain the fire of the young, who thirst for adventure.

As soon as the determination has been formed, the war-chief, to whom the voice of the nation assigns the supremacy, enters on a course of solemn preparation. This consists not, however, in providing arms or supplies for the campaign; for these are comprised in the personal resources of each individual: he devotes himself to observances which are meant to propitiate or learn the will of the Great Spirit, who, when considered as presiding over the destinies of war, is named Areskoui. He begins by marching three times round his winter-house, spreading the great bloody flag, variegated with deep tints of black. As soon as the young warriors see this signal of death, they crowd around, listening to the oration by which he summons them to the field. “Comrades!” he exclaims, “the blood of our countrymen is yet unavenged; their bones lie uncovered; their spirits cry to us from the tomb. Youths, arise! anoint your hair, paint your faces, let your songs resound through the forest, and console the dead with the assurance that they shall be avenged. Youths! follow me, while I march through the war-path to surprise our enemies, to eat their flesh, drink their blood, and tear them limb from limb! We shall return triumphant; or, should we fall, this belt will record our valour!” The wampum, that grand symbol of Indian policy, is then thrown on the ground. Many desire to lift it, but this privilege is reserved for some chief of high reputation, judged worthy to fill the post of second in command. The leader now commences his series of mystic observances. He is painted all over black, and enters on a strict fast, never eating, or even sitting down, till after sunset. From time to time he drinks a decoction of consecrated herbs, with a view of giving vivacity to his dreams, which are carefully noted, and submitted to the deliberation of the sages and old men. When a warlike spirit is in the ascendant, it is understood that either their tenor or their interpretation betokens success. The powerful influence of the vapour-bath is also employed. After these solemn preliminaries, a copious application of warm water removes the deep black coating, and he is painted afresh in bright and varied colours, among which red predominates. A huge fire is kindled, whereon is placed the great war cauldron, into which every one present throws something; and if any allies, invited by a belt of wampum and bloody hatchet to devour the flesh and drink the blood of the enemy, have accepted the summons, they send some ingredients to be also cast in. The chief then announces the enterprise by singing a war-song, never sounded but on such occasions; and his example is followed by all the warriors, who join in the military dance, recounting their former exploits, and dilating on those they hope to achieve. They now proceed to arm, suspending the bow and quiver, or more frequently the musket, from the shoulder, the hatchet or tomahawk from the hand, while the scalping-knife is stuck in the girdle. A portion of parched corn, or sagamity, prepared for the purpose, is received from the women, who frequently bear it to a considerable distance. But the most important operation is the collection of the manitous, or guardian spirits, to be placed in a common box, which, like the Hebrew ark, is looked up to as a protecting power.

The females, during these preparations, have been busily negotiating for a supply of captives, on whom to wreak their vengeance, and appease the shades of their fallen kindred; sometimes, also, with the more merciful view of supplying their places. Tenderer feelings arise as the moment approaches when the warriors must depart—perhaps to return no more! and, it may be, to endure the same dreadful fate which they are imprecating on others. The leader having made a short harangue, commences the march, singing his war-song, while the others follow, at intervals sounding the war-whoop. The women accompany them some distance, and when they must separate, they exchange endearing names, and express the most ardent wishes for a triumphant return; while each party receives and gives some object which has been long worn by the other, as a memorial of this tender parting.

As long as the warriors continue in their own country, they straggle in small parties for the convenience of hunting, still holding communication by shouts, in which they imitate the cries of certain birds and beasts. When arrived at the frontier, they all unite and hold another great festival, followed by solemn dreaming, the tenor of which is carefully examined. If found inauspicious, room is still left to return; and those whose courage shrinks, are, on such occasions, supplied with an apology for relinquishing the undertaking; but such an issue is rare. On entering the hostile territory, deep silence is enjoined; the chase is discontinued; they crawl on all fours; step on the trunks of fallen trees, or through swamps. Sometimes they fasten on their feet the hoof of the buffalo, or the paw of the bear, and run in an irregular track like those animals. Equally earnest and skilful are they in tracing through the woods the haunts of the enemy. The slightest indications, such as would wholly escape the notice of a European, enables them to thread their course through the vast depths of the western forests. They boast of being able to discern the impression of steps even on the yielding grass, and of knowing, by inspection, the nation or tribe by whom it has been made. Various and ingenious artifices are employed to entrap their foe. From the recesses of the wood they send forth the cries of the animals which are most eagerly sought by the rival hunters. Their grand object, however, is to surprise a village, and if possible the principal one belonging to the hated tribe. Thither all their steps tend, as they steal like silent ghosts through the lonely forest. On approaching it, they cast hasty glances from the tops of trees or of hillocks, and then retreat into the thickest covert; but in total disregard of the most disastrous experience, the obvious precaution of placing nightly sentinels has never been adopted. Even when aware of danger, they content themselves with exploring the vicinity two or three miles around, when, if nothing is discovered, they go to sleep without dread.

This supineness is much fostered by a delusive confidence in the manitous enclosed in the holy ark. If during the day the assailants have reached unperceived a covert spot in the neighbourhood of the devoted village, they expect the satisfaction of finding its inhabitants buried in the deepest slumber in the course of the ensuing night. They keep close watch till immediately before day-break, when silence and security are usually the most complete; then, flat on their faces, and carefully suppressing the slightest sound, they creep slowly towards the scene of action. Having reached it undiscovered, the chief by a shrill cry gives the signal, which is instantly followed by a discharge of arrows or musketry; after which they rush in with the war-club and the tomahawk. The air echoes with the sound of the death-whoop, and of arms. The savage aspect of the combatants; their faces painted black and red, and some streaming with blood, and their frightful yells, make them appear like demons risen from the world beneath. The victims, too late aroused, spring from their fatal slumber, and foreseeing the dreadful fate which awaits them if taken prisoners, make almost superhuman struggles for deliverance. The contest rages with all the fury of revenge and despair, but it is usually short. The unhappy wretches, surprised and bewildered, can seldom rally or resist; they seek safety by fleeing into the depths of forests or marshes, whither they are hotly pursued. The main study of the victorious party is to take the fugitives alive, in order to subject them to the horrible punishments which will be presently described. Should this be impracticable, the tomahawk or the hatchet dispatches them on the spot; and the scalp is then carried off as a trophy. Placing a foot on the neck of his fallen enemy, and twisting a hand in the hair, the warrior draws out a long sharp-pointed knife, specially formed for this operation; then cutting a circle round the crown of the head, by a few skilful scoops he detaches the hair and skin, lodges the whole in his bag, and returns in triumph.

At the close of the expedition, the warriors repair to their village, and, even in approaching, announce its result by various signals well understood among their families. According to the most approved custom, the evil tidings are thus communicated. A herald advances before the troop, and for every kinsman who has fallen sounds the death-whoop,—a shrill lengthened note ending in an elevated key. An interval is then allowed, during which the burst of grief excited by these tidings may be in some degree exhausted. Then rises the loud and inspiring sound of the war-whoop, which by its successive repetitions expresses the number of captives brought home as the fruits of the victory. The barbarous joy thus kindled banishes for the moment all trace of lamentation. The women and children form two rows, through which the prisoner is led, having his face painted, and crowned with flowers as for a festival. Then begins the darkest of all the scenes by which savage life is deformed. A series of studied and elaborate torture commences, in which ingenuity is tasked to the utmost to inflict the intensest agony that can be endured without actually extinguishing life. The first caress, as the French call it, is to tear the nails from the fingers, the flesh is then pierced to the bone, and fire in various forms applied to the extremities. Blows are also given to the last degree that nature can sustain; and sometimes an amusement is found in tossing, for a long time, the victim like a ball from one to the other. Other contrivances, peculiar to infuriated savages, are sometimes resorted to. One missionary, for example, being made to lie on his back, had his stomach covered with sagamity, on which hungry dogs were set to feed, which tore his flesh with their teeth. The unhappy wretch is occasionally paraded from village to village, kept for weeks in this state of suffering, fed on the coarsest refuse, and allowed only a neglected corner of the cabin to sleep in. At length a grand council is held to decide his fate, or in other words, to determine whether all the furies of vengeance shall be let loose upon him, and his life be taken away amid the most frightful tortures, or whether he shall be saluted as one of themselves, and treated as a brother. The decision is influenced by various considerations. If he be a youth, or new to the field, a lenient course may probably be adopted; but a veteran warrior, who has been the terror of the nation, and on whose skin is painted a record of triumphs, has to dread a sterner sentence. The women have much influence, according as they either demand revenge for the loss of a husband or brother, or solicit that the captive may supply the vacancy. The Iroquois, though the fiercest of these barbarians, being the deepest politicians, were always anxious to augment their numbers; hence, though they prolonged and heightened the preliminary torture, they usually ended it by adoption. This was carried so far that they are described as having at length become less a single nation than an aggregate of all the surrounding tribes. The stranger being received into one of the families as a husband, brother, or son, is treated with the utmost tenderness; and she, who perhaps immediately before exhausted all her ingenuity in tormenting him, now nurses the wounds she has made, and loads him with caresses. He becomes completely one of the clan, and goes with them to war, even against his former countrymen; and so far is the point of honour carried, that to return into their ranks would be branded as an act of baseness. There are, however, many occasions in which the more inhuman resolution is taken, and a fearful display is then made of the darkest passions that can agitate the human breast. The captive is informed of his fate by being invested with moccasins of black bear-skin, and having placed over his head a flaming torch, the sure indication of his doom. Before the fatal scene begins, however, he is allowed a short interval to sing his death song, which he performs in a triumphant tone. He proclaims the joy with which he goes to the land of souls, where he will meet his brave ancestors who taught him the great lesson to fight and to suffer. He recounts his warlike exploits, particularly those performed against the kindred of his tormentors; and if there was any one of them whom he vanquished and caused to expire amid tortures, he loudly proclaims it. He declares his inextinguishable desire to eat their flesh, and to drink their blood to the last drop. This scene is considered, even when compared with the field of battle, as the great theatre of Indian glory. When two prisoners were about to be tortured by the French at Quebec, a charitable hand privately supplied a weapon with which one of them killed himself; but the other derided his effeminacy, and proudly prepared himself for his fiery trial. In this direful work the women take the lead, and seem transformed into raging furies. She, to glut whose vengeance the doom has been specially pronounced, invokes the spirit of her husband, her brother, or her son, who has fallen in battle or died amid torture, bidding him come now and be appeased, a feast is prepared for him, a warrior is to be thrown into the great cauldron; his blood will be poured out; his flesh torn from the bones: let the injured spirit then cease to complain. A game begins between the torturers and the tortured—one to inflict the most intense suffering, the other to bear it with proud insensibility. That there may be some appearance of open contest, he is not chained, but merely tied to a post, and a certain range allowed, within which, while the brand, the hatchet, and every engine of torture are applied, he can do something to repel his assailants, and even attack in his turn. He struggles fiercely in the unequal strife, and while his frame is consuming in agony, still defies his tormentors, and outbraves death itself. Some even deride the feeble efforts of their executioners, boasting how much more effectively they themselves had applied torture to individuals of their tribe. Yet there are instances where the murderers at last triumph; the sufferer exclaims, “Fire is strong, and too powerful;” he even utters loud shrieks, which are responded to by exulting shouts of savage laughter. Some few have been known by almost incredible efforts to break loose, and by rapid flight effect their escape. The general result, however, is death, after protracted suffering; when the scalp, if still entire, is taken off, and deposited among the military trophies.