Political organization.
The political organization of the Indians was weak. The villages were little democracies, where one warrior held himself as good as another, except for the deference naturally due to headmen of the several clans, or to those of reputed wisdom or oratorical ability. There was a sachem, or peace-chief, hereditary in the female line, whose authority was but slight, unless aided by natural gifts which commanded respect. In times of war the fighting men ranged themselves as volunteers under some popular leader,—perhaps a permanent chief; sometimes a warrior without titular distinction. Much which appears in the early writings about the power and authority of "nobles," "kings," and "emperors" among the red men was fanciful, the authors falling into the error of judging Indian institutions by Old World standards. Around the village council-fires all warriors had a right to be heard; but the talking was chiefly done by the privileged classes of headmen, old men, wise men, and orators, who were also selected as the representatives of villages in the occasional deliberative assemblies of the tribe or confederacy. The judgment of such a council could not bind the entire village, tribe, or confederacy; any one might refuse to obey if it pleased him. It was seldom that an entire tribe united in an important enterprise, still more unusual for several tribes to stand by each other in adversity. It was this weakness in organization,—inherent in a pure democracy,—combined with their lack of self-control and steadfastness of purpose, and with the ever-prevailing tribal jealousies, which caused Indians to yield before the whites, who better understood the value of adherence in the face of a common foe. Here and there in our history we shall note some formidable Indian conspiracies for entirely dispossessing the whites,—such as the Virginia scheme (1622), King Philip's uprising (1675), and the Pontiac War (1763). They were the work of native men of genius who had the gift of organization highly developed, but who could not find material equal to their skill; hence these uprisings were short-lived.
The Indian as a fighter.
The strength of the Indian as a fighter lay in his capacity for stratagem, in his ability to thread the tangled thicket as silently and easily as he would an open plain, in his powers of secrecy, and in his habit of making rapid, unexpected sallies for robbery and murder, and then gliding back into the dark and almost impenetrable forest. The child of impulse, he soon tired of protracted military operations; and in a siege or in the open usually yielded to stoutly sustained resistance on the part of an enemy inferior in numbers. But the colonists were obliged to learn and adopt the Indian's skulking method of warfare before they could successfully cope with him in the forest.
Social characteristics.
The Indian was lord of his own wigwam and of the squaws, whom he purchased of their fathers, kept as his slaves, and could divorce at his caprice. Families were not large, chiefly owing to the lack of food and to heavy infant mortality. The wigwams, or huts,—each tribe having peculiarities in its domestic architecture,—were foully kept, and the bodies of their dirty inhabitants swarmed with vermin. Kind and hospitable to friends and unsuspected strangers, the Indian was merciless to his enemies, no cruelty being too severe for a captive. Yet prisoners were often snatched from the stake or the hands of a vindictive captor to be adopted into the family of the rescuer, taking the place of some one slaughtered by the enemy. In council and when among strangers, the Indian was dignified and reserved, too proud to exhibit curiosity or emotion; but around his own fire he was often a jolly clown, much given to verbosity, and fond of comic tales of doubtful morality. Improvidence was one of his besetting sins.
Dress.
The summer dress of the men was generally a short apron made of the pelt of a wild animal, the women being clothed in skins from neck to knees; in winter both sexes wrapped themselves in large robes of similar material. Indian oratory was highly ornate; it abounded in metaphors drawn from a minute observance of nature and from a picturesque mythology. |Religion.| A belief in the efficacy of religious observances was deep seated. Long fastings, penances, and sacrifices were frequent. The elements were peopled with spirits good and bad. Every animal, every plant, had its manitou, or incarnate spirit. Fancy ran riot in superstition. Even the dances practised by the aborigines had a certain religious significance, being pantomimes, and in some features resembling the mediæval miracle-plays of Europe. |Medicine.| The art of healing was tinctured with necromancy, although there was considerable virtue in their decoctions of barks, roots, and herbs, and their vapor-baths, which came in time to be borrowed from them by the whites.
Intellectual status.
In intellectual activity the red man did not occupy so low a scale as has often been assigned him. He was barbarous in his habits, but was so from choice: it suited his wild, untrammelled nature. He understood the arts of politeness when he chose to exercise them. He could plan, he was an incomparable tactician and a fair strategist; he was a natural logician; his tools and implements were admirably adapted to the purpose designed; he fashioned boats that have not been surpassed in their kind; he was remarkably quick in learning the use of firearms, and soon equalled the best white hunters as a marksman. A rude sense of honor was highly developed in the Indian; he had a nice perception of public propriety; he bowed his will to the force of custom,—these characteristics doing much to counteract the anarchical tendency of his extreme democracy. He understood the value of form and color, as witness his rock-carvings, his rude paintings, the decorations on his finely tanned leather, and his often graceful body markings. It was because the savage saw little in civilized ideas to attract him, that he either remained obdurate in the face of missionary endeavors, or simulated an interest he could not feel.