the powers of oratory; for nothing of any importance is transacted
without a speech. On every emergency a council of the tribe is called,
when the aged and wise hold long deliberations for the public weal. The
functions of orator among the Five Nations, had even become a separate
profession, held in equal or higher honour than that of the warrior; and
each clan appointed the most eloquent of their number to speak for them
in the public council. Nay, there was a general orator for the whole
confederacy, who could say to the French governor, “Ononthio, lend thine
ear—I am the mouth of all the country; you hear all the Iroquois in
hearing my word.” Decanesora, their speaker, at a later period, was
greatly admired by the English, and his bust was thought to resemble
that of Cicero. In their diplomatic discourses, each proposition is
prefaced by the delivery of a belt of wampum, of which what follows is
understood to be the explanation, and which is to be preserved as a
record of the conference. The orator does not express his proposals in
words only, but gives to every sentence its appropriate action. If he
threatens war, he wildly brandishes the tomahawk; if he solicits
alliance, he twines his arms closely with those of the chief whom he
addresses; and if he invites friendly intercourse, he assumes all the
attitudes of one who is forming a road in the Indian manner, by cutting
down the trees, clearing them away, and carefully removing the leaves
and branches. To a French writer, who witnessed the delivery of a solemn
embassy, it suggested the idea of a company of actors performing on a
stage. So expressive are their gestures, that negotiations have been
conducted, and alliances concluded between petty states and communities,
who understood nothing of one another’s language.
The composition of the Indian orators is studied and elaborate. The
language of the Iroquois is even held to be susceptible of an Attic
elegance, which few can attain so fully as to escape all criticism. It
is figurative in the highest degree, every notion being expressed by
images addressed to the senses. Thus, to throw up the hatchet, or to put
on the great cauldron, is to begin a war; to throw the hatchet to the
sky, is to wage open and terrible war; to take off the cauldron, or to
bury the hatchet, is to make peace; to plant the tree of peace on the
highest mountain of the earth, is to make a general pacification. To
throw a prisoner into the cauldron, is to devote him to torture and
death; to take him out, is to pardon and receive him as a member of the
community. Ambassadors coming to propose a full and general treaty, say,
“We rend the clouds asunder, and drive away all darkness from the
heavens, that the sun of peace may shine with brightness over us all.”
On another occasion, referring to their own violent conduct, they said,
“We are glad that Assarigoa will bury in the pit what is past; let the
earth be trodden hard over it; or rather let a strong stream run under
the pit to wash away the evil.” They afterwards added, “We now plant a
tree, whose top will reach the sun, and its branches spread far abroad;
and we shall shelter ourselves under it, and live in peace.” To send the
collar underground, is to carry on a secret negotiation; but when
expressing a desire that there might be no duplicity or concealment
between them and the French, they said, that “they wished to fix the sun
in the top of the heaven, immediately above that pole, that it might
beat directly down, and leave nothing in obscurity.” In pledging
themselves to a firm and steady peace, they declared that they would not
only throw down the great war cauldron, and cause all the water to flow
out, but would break it in pieces. This disposition to represent every
thing by a sensible object extends to matters the most important. One
powerful people assumed the appellation of Foxes, while another gloried
in that of Cats. Even when the entire nation bore a different
appellation, separate fraternities distinguished themselves as the tribe
of the Bear, the Tortoise, and the Wolf. They did not disdain a
reference even to inanimate things. The Black Cauldron was at one time
the chief warrior of the Five Nations; and Red Shoes was a person of
distinction, well known to Long the traveller. When the chiefs concluded
treaties with Europeans, their signature consisted in a picture, often
tolerably well executed, of the beast or object after which they chose
to be named.
The absence, among these tribes, of any written or even pictorial mode
of recording events, was supplied by the memories of their old men,
which were so retentive, that a certain writer calls them living books.
Their only remembrancer consisted in the wampum belts, of which one was
appropriated to each division of a speech or treaty, and had, seemingly,
a powerful effect in calling it to recollection. On the close of the
transaction, these were deposited as public documents, to be drawn forth
on great occasions, when the orators, and even the old women, could
repeat verbatim the passage to which each referred. Europeans were thus
enabled to collect information concerning the revolutions of different
tribes, for several ages preceding their own arrival.
The earliest visitors of the New World, on seeing among the Indians
neither priests, temples, idols, nor sacrifices, represented them as a
people wholly destitute of religious opinions. Closer inquiry, however,
showed that a belief in the spiritual world, however imperfect, had a
commanding influence over almost all their actions. Their creed includes
even some lofty and pure conceptions. Under the title of the Great
Spirit, the Master of Life, the Maker of Heaven and Earth, they
distinctly recognise a supreme ruler of the universe, and an arbiter of
their destiny. A party of them, when informed by the missionaries of the
existence of a being of infinite power, who had created the heavens and
the earth, with one consent exclaimed, “Atahocan! Atahocan!” that being
the name of their principal deity. According to Long, the Indians among
whom he resided ascribe every event, propitious or unfortunate, to the
favour or anger of the Master of Life. They address him for their daily
subsistence; they believe him to convey to them presence of mind in
battle; and amid tortures, they thank him for inspiring them with
courage. Yet, though this one elevated and just conception is deeply
graven on their minds, it is combined with others which show all the
imperfection of unassisted reason in attempting to think rightly on this
great subject. It may even be observed, that the term, rendered into our
language, “Great Spirit” does not really convey the idea of an
immaterial nature. It imports with them merely some being possessed of
lofty and mysterious powers, and in this sense is applied to men, and
even to animals. The brute creation, which occupies a prominent place in
all their ideas, is often viewed by them as invested, to a great extent,
with supernatural powers—an extreme absurdity, which, however, they
share with the civilized creeds of Egypt and India.
When the missionaries, on their first arrival, attempted to form an idea
of the Indian mythology, it appeared to them extremely complicated, more
especially because those who attempted to explain it had no fixed
opinions. Each man differed from his neighbour, and at another time from
himself; and when the discrepancies were pointed out, no attempt was
made to reconcile them. The southern tribes, who had a more settled
faith, are described by Adair as intoxicated with spiritual pride, and
denouncing even their European allies as “the accursed people.” The
native Canadian, on the contrary, is said to have been so little
tenacious, that he would at any time renounce all his theological errors
for a pipe of tobacco, though, as soon as it was smoked, he immediately
relapsed. An idea was found prevalent respecting a certain mystical
animal called Meson, or Messessagen, who, when the earth was buried in
water, had drawn it up and restored it. Others spoke of a contest
between the hare, the fox, the beaver, and the seal, for the empire of
the world. Among the principal nations of Canada, the hare is thought to
have attained a decided preeminence, and hence the Great Spirit and the
Great Hare are sometimes used as synonymous terms. What should have
raised this creature to such distinction seems rather unaccountable,
unless it were that its extreme swiftness might appear something
supernatural. Among the Ottawas alone the heavenly bodies become an
object of veneration: the sun appears to rank as their supreme deity.
To dive into the abyss of futurity has always been a favourite object of
superstition. It has been attempted by various means, but the Indian
seeks it chiefly through his dreams, which always bear with him a sacred
character. Before engaging in any high undertaking, especially in
hunting or war, the dreams of the principal chiefs are carefully
watched, and studiously examined; and according to the interpretation
their conduct is guided. A whole nation has been set in motion by the
sleeping fancies of a single man. Sometimes a person imagines in his
sleep that he has been presented with an article of value by another,
who then cannot, without impropriety, leave the omen unfulfilled. When
Sir William Johnson, during the American war, was negotiating an
alliance with a friendly tribe, the chief confidentially disclosed,
that, during his slumbers, he had been favoured with a vision of Sir
William bestowing upon him the rich laced coat which formed his full
dress. The fulfilment of this revelation was very inconvenient; yet, on
being assured that it positively occurred, the English commander found
it advisable to resign his uniform. Soon after, however, he unfolded to
the Indian a dream with which he had himself been favoured, and in which
the former was seen presenting him with a large tract of fertile land,
most commodiously situated. The native ruler admitted that, since the
vision had been vouchsafed, it must be realized, yet earnestly proposed
to cease this mutual dreaming, which he found had turned much to his own
disadvantage.
The manitou is an object of peculiar veneration; and the fixing upon
this guardian power is not only the most important event in the history
of a youth, but even constitutes his initiation into active life. As a
preliminary, his face is painted black, and he undergoes a severe fast,
which is, if possible, prolonged for eight days. This is preparatory to
the dream in which he is to behold the idol destined ever after to
afford him aid and protection. In this state of excited expectation, and
while every nocturnal vision is carefully watched, there seldom fails to
occur to his mind something which, as it makes a deep impression, is
pronounced his manitou. Most commonly it is a trifling and even
fantastic article; the head, beak, or claw of a bird, the hoof of a cow,
or even a piece of wood. However, having undergone a thorough
perspiration in one of their vapour-baths, he is laid on his back, and a
picture of it is drawn upon his breast by needles of fish-bone dipt in
vermilion. A good specimen of the original being produced, it is
carefully treasured up; and to it he applies in every emergency, hoping
that it will inspire his dreams, and secure to him every kind of good
fortune. When, however, notwithstanding every means of propitiating its
favour, misfortunes befall him, the manitou is considered as having
exposed itself to just and serious reproach. He begins with
remonstrances, representing all that has been done for it, the disgrace
it incurs by not protecting its votary, and finally, the danger that in
case of repeated neglect, it may be discarded for another. Nor is this
considered merely as an empty threat; for if the manitou is judged
incorrigible, it is thrown away, and by means of a fresh course of
fasting, dreaming, sweating, and painting, another is installed, from
whom better success may be hoped.
The absence of temples, worship, sacrifices, and all the observances to
which superstition prompts the untutored mind, is a remarkable
circumstance, and, as we have already remarked, led the early visitors
to believe that the Indians were strangers to all religious ideas; yet
the missionaries found room to suspect that some of their great feasts,
in which every thing presented must be eaten, bore an idolatrous
character, and were held in honour of the Great Hare. The Ottawas, whose
mythological system seems to have been the most complicated, were wont
to keep a regular festival to celebrate the beneficence of the sun; on
which occasion, the luminary was told that this service was in return
for the good hunting he had procured for his people, and as an
encouragement to persevere in his friendly cares. They were also
observed to erect an idol in the middle of their town, and sacrifice to
it; but such ceremonies were by no means general. On first witnessing
christian worship, the only idea suggested by it was that of their
asking some temporal good, which was either granted or refused. The
missionaries mention two Hurons, who arrived from the woods soon after
the congregation had assembled. Standing without, they began to
speculate what it was the white men were asking, and then whether they
were getting it. As the service continued beyond expectation, it was
concluded they were _not_ getting it; and as the devotional duties still
proceeded, they admired the perseverance with which this rejected suit
was urged. At length, when the vesper hymn began, one of the savages
observed to the other—“Listen to them now in despair, crying with all
their might.”
The grand doctrine of a life beyond the grave, was, among all the tribes
of America, most deeply cherished, and most sincerely believed. They had
even formed a distinct idea of the region whither they hoped to be
transported, and of the new and happier mode of existence, free from
those wars, tortures, and cruelties, which throw so dark a shade over
their lot upon earth; yet their conceptions on this subject were by no
means either exalted or spiritualized. They expected simply a
prolongation of their present life, and enjoyments under more favourable
circumstances, and with the same objects, furnishing greater choice and
abundance. In that brighter land the sun ever shines unclouded, the
forests abound with deer, the lakes and rivers with fish—benefits which
are farther enhanced in their imagination by a faithful wife and dutiful
children. They do not reach it however, till after a journey of several
months, and encountering various obstacles—a broad river, a chain of
lofty mountains, and the attack of a furious dog. This favoured country
lies far in the west, at the remotest boundary of the earth, which is
supposed to terminate in a steep precipice, with the ocean rolling
beneath. Sometimes, in the too eager pursuit of game, the spirits fall
over, and are converted into fishes. The local position of their
paradise appears connected with certain obscure intimations received
from their wandering neighbours of the Mississippi, the Rocky Mountains,
and the distant shores of the Pacific. This system of belief labours
under a great defect, inasmuch as it scarcely connects felicity in the
future world with virtuous conduct in the present. The one is held to be
simply a continuation of the other; and under this impression, the arms,
ornaments, and every thing that had contributed to the welfare of the
deceased, are interred along with him. This supposed assurance of a
future life, so conformable to their gross habits and conceptions, was
found by the missionaries a serious obstacle, when they attempted to
allure them by the hope of a destiny, purer and higher, indeed, but less
accordant with their untutored conceptions. Upon being told that, in the
promised world, they would neither hunt, eat, drink, nor marry a wife,
many of them declared that, far from endeavouring to reach such an
abode, they would consider their arrival there as the greatest calamity.
Mention is made of a Huron girl, whom one of the christian ministers was
endeavouring to instruct, and whose first question was, what she would
find to eat? The answer being “nothing,” she then asked what she would
see? and being informed that she would see the Maker of heaven and
earth, she expressed herself much at a loss what she could have to say
to him. Many not only reject this destiny for themselves, but were
indignant at the efforts made to decoy their children after death into
so dreary and comfortless a region.
Another sentiment, congenial with that now described, is most deeply
rooted in the mind of the Indians—this is reverence for the dead; with
which Chateaubriand, though, perhaps, somewhat hastily, considers them
more deeply imbued than any other people. During life they are by no
means lavish of their expressions of tenderness; but on the approach of
the hour of final separation, it is displayed with extraordinary force.
When any member of a family becomes seriously ill, all the resources of
magic and medicine are exhausted in order to procure his recovery. When
the fatal moment arrives, all the kindred burst into loud lamentations,
which continue till some person, possessing the requisite authority,
desires them to cease. These expressions of grief, however, are renewed
for a considerable time, at sunrise and sunset. After three days the
funeral takes place, when all the provisions which the family can
procure are expended in a feast, to which the neighbours are generally
invited; and, although on all solemn occasions it is required that every
thing should be eaten, the relations do not partake. These last cut off
their hair, cover their heads, paint their faces of a black colour, and
continue long to deny themselves every species of amusement. The
deceased is then interred with his arms and ornaments, his face painted,
and his person attired in the richest robes which they can furnish. It
was the opinion of one of the early missionaries, that the chief object
of the Hurons, in their traffic with the French, was to procure
materials for honouring their dead; and as a proof of this, many of them
have been seen shivering, half naked, in the cold, while their hut
contained rich robes to be wrapped round them after their decease. The
body is placed in the tomb in an upright posture; and skins are
carefully spread round it, so that no part may touch the earth. This,
however, is by no means the final ceremony, being followed by another
far more solemn and singular. Every eighth, tenth, or twelfth year,
according to the custom of the different nations, is celebrated the
festival of the dead; and, till then, the souls are supposed to hover
round their former tenement, and not to depart for their final abode in
the west. On this occasion the people march in procession to the places
of interment, open the tombs, and, on beholding the mortal remains of
their friends, continue sometime fixed in mournful silence. The women
then break out into loud cries, and the party begin to collect the
bones, removing every remnant of flesh; the remains are then wrapped in
fresh and valuable robes, and conveyed, amid continued lamentation, to
the family cabin. A feast is then given, followed during several days by
dances, games, and prize combats, to which strangers often repair from a
great distance. This mode of celebration certainly accords very ill with
the sad occasion; yet the Greek and Roman obsequies were solemnized in a
similar manner—nay, in many parts of Scotland, till very recently, they
were accompanied by festival, and often by revelry. The relics are then
carried to the council-house of the nation, where they are hung for
exhibition along the walls, with fresh presents destined to be interred
along with them. Sometimes they are even displayed from village to
village. At length, being deposited in a pit, previously dug in the
earth, and lined with the richest furs, they are finally entombed. Tears
and lamentations are again lavished, and during a few days, food is
brought to the place. The bones of their fathers are considered by the
Indians the strongest ties to their native soil; and when calamity
forces them to quit it, these mouldering fragments are, if possible,
conveyed along with them.
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.