If the expedition meet with no straggling party of the enemy, it advances with cautious stealth toward some principal village; the warriors creep on their hands and feet through the deep woods, and often even paint themselves the color of dried leaves to avoid being perceived by their intended victims. On approaching the doomed hamlet, they examine it carefully, but rapidly, from some tree-top or elevated ground, and again conceal themselves till nightfall in the thickest covert. Strange to say, these subtle warriors neglect altogether the security of sentinels, and are satisfied with searching the surrounding neighborhood for hidden foes; if none be discovered, they sleep in confidence, even when hostile forces are not far off. They weakly trust to the protecting power of their Manitous. When they have succeeded in reaching the village, and concealing themselves unobserved, they wait silently, keeping close watch till the hour before dawn, when the inhabitants are in the deepest sleep. Then crawling noiselessly, like snakes, through the grass and underwood, till they are upon the foe, the chief raises a shrill cry, and the massacre begins. Discharging a shower of arrows, they finish the deadly work with the club and tomahawk. The great object, however, of the conquerors is to take the enemy alive, and reserve him to grace their triumph and rejoice their eyes by his torture. When resistance is attempted, this is often impossible, and an instant death saves the victim from the far greater horrors of captivity and protracted torment. When an enemy is struck down, the victor places his foot upon the neck of the dead or dying man, and with a horrible celerity and skill tears off the bleeding scalp.[276] This trophy is ever preserved with jealous care by the Indian warriors.
After any great success the war party always return to their villages, more eager to celebrate the victory than to improve its advantages. Their women and old men await their return in longing expectation. The fate of the war is announced from afar off by well-known signs; the bad tidings are first told. A herald advances to the front of the returning party, and sounds a death-whoop for each of their warriors who has fallen in the fray. Then, after a little time, the tale of victory is told, and the number of prisoners and of the slain declared. All lamentations are soon hushed, and congratulations and rejoicing succeed. During the retreat, if the war party be not hard pressed by the enemy, prisoners are treated with some degree of humanity, but are very closely guarded. When the expedition has returned to the village, the old men, women, and children form themselves into two lines; the prisoners are compelled to pass between them, and are cruelly bruised with sticks and stones, but not vitally injured by their tormentors.
A council is usually held to decide the fate of the prisoners: the alternatives are, to be adopted into the conquering nation, and received as brothers, or to be put to death in the most horrible torments, thus either to supply the place of warriors fallen in battle, or to appease the spirits of the departed by their miserable end. The older warriors among the captives usually meet the hardest fate; the younger are most frequently adopted by the women, their wounds are cured, and they are thenceforth received in every respect as if they belonged to the tribe. The adopted prisoners go out to war against their former countrymen, and the new tie is held even more binding than the old.
The veteran warrior, whose tattooed skin bears record of slaughtered enemies, meets with no mercy: his face is painted, his head crowned with flowers as if for a festival, black moccasins are put upon his feet, and a flaming torch is placed above him as the signal of condemnation. The women take the lead in the diabolical tortures to which he is subjected, and rage around their victim with horrible cries. He is, however, allowed a brief interval to sing his death-song, and he often continues it even through the whole of the terrible ordeal. He boasts of his great deeds, insults his tormentors, laughing at their feeble efforts, exults in the vengeance that his nation will take for his death, and pours forth insulting reproaches and threats. The song is then taken up by the woman to whose particular revenge he has been devoted. She calls upon the spirit of her husband or son to come and witness the sufferings of his foe. After tortures too various and horrible to be particularized, some kind wound closes the scene in death, and the victim's scalp is lodged among the trophies of the tribe. To endure with unshaken fortitude[277] is the greatest triumph of an Indian warrior, and the highest confusion to his enemies, but often the proud spirit breaks under the pangs that rack the quivering flesh, and shouts of intolerable agony reward the demoniac ingenuity of the tormentors.
Many early writers considered that the charge of cannibalism[278] against the Indians was well founded: doubtless, in moments of fury, portions of an enemy's flesh have been rent off and eaten. To devour a foeman's heart is held by them to be an exquisite vengeance. They have been known to drink draughts of human blood, and, in circumstances of scarcity, they do not hesitate to eat their captives. It is certain that all the terms used by them in describing the torture of prisoners relate to this horrible practice; yet, as they are so figurative in every expression, these may simply mean the fullest gratification of revenge. The evidence upon this point is obscure and contradictory; the Indian can not be altogether acquitted or found guilty of this foul imputation.
The brief peace that affords respite amid the continual wars of the Indian tribes is scarcely more than a truce. Nevertheless, it is concluded with considerable form and ceremony. The first advance toward a cessation of hostilities is usually made through the chief of a neutral power. The nation proposing the first overture dispatches some men of note as embassadors, accompanied by an orator, to contract the negotiation. They bear with them the calumet[279] of peace as the symbol of their purpose, and a certain number of wampum belts[280] to note the objects and conditions of the negotiation. The orator explains the meaning of the belts to the hostile chiefs, and if the proposition be received, the opposite party accept the proffered symbols, and the next day present others of a similar import. The calumet is then solemnly smoked, and the burial of a war hatchet for each party and for each ally concludes the treaty. The negotiations consist more in presents, speeches, and ceremonies, than in any demands upon each other; there is no property to provide tribute, and the victors rarely or never require the formal cession of any of the hunting-grounds of the vanquished. The unrestrained passions of individuals, and the satiety of long continued peace, intolerable to the Indian, soon again lead to the renewal of hostility.
The successful hunter ranks next to the brave warrior in the estimation of the savage. Before starting on his grand expeditions, he prepares himself by a course of fasting, dreaming, and religious observances, as if for war. He hunts with astonishing dexterity and skill, and regards this pursuit rather as an object of adventure and glory than as an industrious occupation.
With regard to cultivation and the useful arts, the Indians are in the very infancy of progress.[283] Their villages are usually not less than eighteen miles apart, and are surrounded by a narrow circle of imperfectly-cleared land, slightly turned up with a hoe, or scraped with pointed sticks,[284] scarcely interrupting the continuous expanse of the forest. They are only acquainted with the rudest sorts of clay manufactures, and the use of the metals (except by European introduction) is altogether unknown.[285] Their women, however, display considerable skill in weaving fine mats, in staining the hair of animals, and working it into brilliant colored embroideries. The wampum belts are made with great care and some taste. The calumet is also elaborately carved and ornamented; and the painting and tattooing of their bodies sometimes presents well-executed and highly descriptive pictures and hieroglyphics. They construct light and elegant baskets from the swamp cane, and are very skillful in making bows and arrows; some tribes, indeed, were so rude as not to have attained even to the use of this primitive weapon, and the sling was by no means generally known.
Most of the American nations are without any fixed form of government whatever. The complete independence of every man is fully recognized. He may do what he pleases of good or evil, useful or destructive, no constituted power interferes to thwart his will. If he even take away the life of another, the by-standers do not interpose. The kindred of the slain, however, will make any sacrifice for vengeance. And yet, in the communities of these children of nature there usually reigns a wonderful tranquillity. A deadly hostility exists between the different tribes, but among the members comprising each the strictest union exists. The honor and prosperity of his nation is the leading object of the Indian. This national feeling forms a link to draw him closely to his neighbor, and he rarely or never uses violence or evil speech against a countryman. Where there is scarcely such a thing as individual property, government and justice are necessarily very much simplified. There exists almost a community of goods. No man wants while another has enough and to spare. Their generosity knows no bounds. Whole tribes, when ruined by disasters in war, find unlimited hospitality among their neighbors; habitations and hunting-grounds are allotted to them, and they are received in every respect as if they were members of the nation that protects them.
As there is generally no wealth or hereditary distinction among this people, the sole claim to eminence is founded on such personal qualities as can only be conspicuous in war, council, or the chase. During times of tranquillity and inaction all superiority ceases. Every man is clothed and fares alike. Relations of patronage and dependence are unknown. All are free and equal, and they perish rather than submit to control or endure correction. During war, indeed, or in the chase, they render a sort of obedience to those who excel in character and conduct, but at other times no form of government whatever exists. The names of magistrate and subject are not in their language. If the elders interpose between man and man, it is to advise, not to decide. Authority is only tolerated in foreign, not in domestic affairs.