by Edmund Burke
When by these, and every other means, the fury of the nation is raised to the greatest height, and all long to embrew their hands in blood, the war captain prepares the feast, which consists of dogs flesh. All that partake of this feast receive little billets, which are so many engagements which they take to be faithful to each other, and obedient to their commander. None are forced to the w••…, but when they have accepted this billet, they are looked upon as listed, and it is then death to recede. All the warriors in this assembly have their faces blackened with charcoal, intermixed with dashes and streaks of vermillion, which give them a most horrid appearance. Their hair is dressed up in an odd manner, with feathers of various kinds. In this assembly, which is preparatory to their military expedition, the chief begins the war song; which having continued for some time, he raises his voice to the highest pitch, and turning off suddenly to a sort of prayer, he addresses himself to the god of war, whom they call Areskoui.
“I invoke thee, says he, to be favourable to my enterprise! I invoke thy care upon me and my family! I invoke ye likewise, all ye spirits and demons good and evil! All ye that are in the skies, or on the earth, or under the earth, to pour destruction upon our enemies, and to return me and my companions safely to our country.”
All the warriors join him in this prayer with shouts and acclamations. The captain renews his song, strikes his club against the stakes of his cottage, and begins the war dance, accompanied with the shouts of all his companions, which continue as long as he dances.
The day appointed for their departure being arrived, they take leave of their friends; they change their cloaths, or whatever moveables they have, in token of mutual friendship; their wives and female relations go out before them, and attend at some distance from the town. The warriors march out all drest in their finest apparel, and most showy ornaments, regularly one after another, for they never march in rank. The chief walks slowly on before them, singing the death song, whilst the rest observe the most profound silence. When they come up to their women, they deliver up to them all their finery, put on their worst cloaths, and then proceed as their commander thinks fit.
Their motives for engaging in a war are rarely those views which excite us to it. They have no other end but the glory of the victory, or the benefit of the slaves which it enables them to add to their nation, or sacrifice to their brutal fury; and it is rare that they take any pains to give their wars even a colour of justice. It is no way uncommon among them for the young men to make feasts of dogs flesh, and war dances, in small parties, in the midst of the most profound peace. They fall sometimes on one nation, sometimes on another, and surprize some of their hunters, whom they scalp or bring home as prisoners. Their senators wink at this, or rather encourage it, as it tends to keep up the martial spirit of their people, inures them to watchfulness and hardship, and gives them an early taste for blood.
The qualities in an Indian war are vigilance and attention, to give and to avoid a surprize; and patience and strength, to endure the intolerable fatigues and hardships which always attend it. The nations of America are at an immense distance from each other with a vast desart frontier, and hid in the bosom of hideous, and almost boundless forests. These must be traversed before they meet an enemy, who is often at such a distance as might be supposed to prevent either quarrel or danger. But notwithstanding the secrecy of the destination of the party that first moves, the enemy has frequently notice of it, is prepared for the attack, and ready to take advantage in the same manner of the least want of vigilance in the aggressors. Their whole art of war consists in this: they never fight in the open field, but upon some very extraordinary occasions; not from cowardice, for they are brave; but they despise this method, as unworthy an able warrior, and as an affair in which fortune governs more than prudence. The principal things which help them to find out their enemies are the smoke of their fires, which they smell at a distance almost incredible; and their tracks, in the discovery and distinguishing of which they are possessed of a sagacity equally astonishing; for they will tell in the footsteps, which to us would seem most confused, the number of men that have passed, and the length of time since they have passed; they even go so far as to distinguish the several nations by the different marks of their feet, and to perceive footsteps, where we could distinguish nothing less. A mind diligently intent upon one thing, and exercised by long experience, will go lengths at first view scarcely credible.
But as they who are attacked have the same knowledge, and know how to draw the same advantages from it, their great address is to baffle each other in these points. On the expedition they light no fire to warm themselves, or prepare their victuals, but subsist merely on the miserable pittance of some of their meal mixed with water; they lie close to the ground all day, and march only in the night. As they march in their usual order in files, he that closes the rear diligently covers his own tracks, and those of all who preceded him, with leaves. If any stream occurs in their rout, they march in it for a considerable way to foil their pursuers. When they halt to rest and refresh themselves, scouts are sent out on every side to reconnoitre the country, and beat up every place where they suspect an enemy may lie perdue. In this manner they often enter a village, whilst the strength of the nation is employed in hunting, and massacre all the helpless old men, women, and children, or make prisoners as many as they judge they can manage, or have strength enough to be useful to their nation.
They often cut off small parties of men in their huntings; but when they discover an army of their enemies, their way is to throw themselves flat on their faces amongst the withered leaves, the colour of which their bodies are painted to resemble exactly. They generally let a part pass unmolested, and then rising a little, they take aim, for they are excellent marksmen, and setting up a most tremendous shout, which they call the war cry, they pour a storm of musquet bullets upon the enemy; for they have long since laid aside the use of arrows; the party attacked returns the same cry. Every man in haste covers himself with a tree, and returns the fire of the adverse party; as soon they raise themselves from the ground to give the second fire.
After fighting some time in this manner, the party which thinks it has the advantage rushes out of it’s cover; with small axes in their hands, which they dart with great address and dexterity; they redouble their cries, intimidating their enemies with menaces, and encouraging each other with a boastful display of their own brave actions. Thus being come hand to hand, the contest is soon decided; and the conquerors satiate their savage fury with the most shocking insults and barbarities to the dead, biting their flesh, tearing the scalp from their heads, and wallowing in their blood like wild beasts.
The fate of their prisoners is the most severe of all. During the greatest part of their journey homewards they suffer no injury. But when they arrive at the territories of the conquering state, or at those of their allies, the people from every village meet them, and think they shew their attachment to their friends by their barbarous treatment of the unhappy prisoners; so that when they come to their station, they are wounded and bruised in a terrible manner. The conquerors enter the town in triumph. The war captain waits upon the head men, and in a low voice gives them a circumstantial account of every particular of the expedition, of the damage the enemy has suffered, and his own losses in it. This done, the public orator relates the whole to the people, Before they yield to the joy which the victory occasions, they lament the friends which they have lost in the pursuit of it. The parties most nearly concerned are afflicted apparently with a deep and real sorrow. But by one of those strange turns of the human mind, fashioned to any thing by custom, as if they were disciplined in their grief, upon the signal for rejoicing, in a moment all tears are wiped from their eyes, and they rush into an extravagance and phrenzy of joy for their victory.
In the mean time the fate of the prisoners remains undecided, until the old men meet, and determine concerning the distribution. It is usual to offer a slave to each house that has lost a frien
d; giving the preference according to the greatness of the loss. The person who has taken the captive attends him to the door of the cottage to which he is delivered, and with him gives a belt of wampum, to shew that he has fulfilled the purpose of the expedition in supplying the loss of a citizen. They view the present which is made them for some time, and according as they think him or her, for it is the same, proper or improper for the business of the family, or as they take a capricious liking or displeasure to the countenance of the victim, or in proportion to their natural barbarity, or their resentment for their losses, they destine concerning him, to receive him into the family, or sentence him to death. If the latter, they throw away the belt with indignation. Then it is no longer in the power of any one to save him. The nation is assembled as upon some great solemnity. A scaffold is raised, and the prisoner tied to the stake. Instantly he opens his death song, and prepares for the ensuing scene of cruelty with the most undaunted courage. On the other side, they prepare to put it to the utmost proof, with every torment, which the mind of man ingenious in mischief can invent. They begin at the extremities of his body, and gradually approach the trunk. One plucks out his nails by the roots, one by one; another takes a finger into his mouth, and tears off the flesh with his teeth; a third thrusts the finger, mangled as it is, into the bole of a pipe made red hot, which he smoaks like tobacco. Then they pound his toes and fingers to pieces between two stones; they cut circles about his joints, and gashes in the fleshy parts of his limbs, which they fear immediately with red-hot irons, cutting and searing alternately; they pull off this flesh, thus mangled and roasted, bit by bit, devouring it with greediness, and smearing their faces with the blood, in an enthusiasm of horror and fury. When they have thus torn off the flesh, they twist the bare nerves and tenders about an iron, tearing and snapping them; whilst others are employed in pulling and extending the limbs themselves, in every way that can increase the torment. This continues often five or six hours together. Then they frequently unbind him to give a breathing to their fury, to think what new torments they shall inflict, and to refresh the strength of the sufferer, who wearied out with such a variety of unheard-of torments, often falls immediately into so profound a sleep, that they are obliged to apply the fire to awaken him, and renew his sufferings.
He is again fastened to the stake, and again they renew their cruelty; they stick him all all over with small matches of a wood that easily takes fire, but burns slowly; they continually run sharp reeds into every part of his body; they drag out his teeth with pincers, and thrust out his eyes; and lastly, after having burned his flesh from the bones with slow fires; after having so mangled the body that it is all but one wound; after having mutilated his face in such a manner as to carry nothing of human in it; after having peeled the skin from the head, and poured a heap of red-hot coals, or boiling water on the naked skull; they once more unbind the wretch, who blind and staggering with pain and weakness, assaulted and pelted upon every side with clubs and stones, now up, now down, falling into their fires at every step, runs hither and thither, until some of the chiefs, whether out of compassion, or weary of cruelty, puts an end to his life with a club or a dagger. The body is then put into the kettle, and this barbarous employment is succeeded by a feast as barbarous.
The women, forgetting the human as well as the female nature, and transformed into something worse than furies, act their parts, and even outdo the men in this scene of horror. The principal persons of the country sit round the stake smoaking and looking on without the least emotion. What is most extraordinary, the sufferer himself, in the little intervals of his torments, smoaks too, appears unconcerned, and converses with his torturers about indifferent matters. Indeed, during the whole time of his execution, there seems a contest between him and them which shall exceed, they in inflicting the most horrid pains, or he in enduring them with a firmness and constancy almost above human. Not a groan, not a sigh, not a distortion of countenance escapes him; he possesses his mind entirely in the midst of his torments; he recounts his own exploits, he informs them what cruelties he has inflicted upon their countrymen, and threatens them with the revenge that will attend his death; and though his reproaches exasperate them to a perfect madness of rage and fury, he continues his reproaches even of their ignorance in the art of tormenting, pointing out himself more exquisite methods, and more sensible parts of the body to be afflicted. The women have this part of courage as well as the men; and it is as rare for any Indian to behave otherwise, as it would be for an European to suffer as an Indian.
I do not dwell upon these circumstances of cruelty, which so degrade human nature, out of choice; but as all who mention the customs of this people have insisted upon their behaviour in this respect very particularly, and as it seems necessary to give a true idea of their character, I did not chuse to omit it. It serves to shew too, in the strongest light, to what an inconceiveable degree of barbarity the passions of men let loose will carry them. It will point out to us the advantages of a religion that teaches a compassion to our enemies, which is neither known nor practised in other religions; and it will make us more sensible than some appear to be, of the value of commerce, the arts of a civilized life, and the lights of literature; which, if they have abated the force of some of the natural virtues by the luxury which attends them, have taken out likewise the sting of our natural vices, and softened the ferocity of the human race without enervating their courage.
On the other hand, the constancy of the sufferers in this terrible scene shews the wonderful power of an early institution, and a ferocious thirst of glory, which makes men imitate and exceed what philosophy, or even religion can effect.
The prisoners who have the happiness to please those to whom they are offered, have a fortune altogether opposite to that of those who are condemned. They are adopted into the family, they are accepted in the place of the father, son, or husband that is lost; and they have no other mark of their captivity, but that they are not suffered to return to their own nation. To attempt this would be certain death. The principal purpose of the war is to recruit in this manner; for which reason a general who loses many of his men, though he should conquer, is little better than disgraced at home; because the end of the war was not answered. They are therefore extremely careful of their men, and never chuse to attack but with a very undoubted superiority, either in number or situation.
The scalps which they value so much are the trophies of their bravery; with these they adorn their houses, which are esteemed in proportion as this sort of spoils is more numerous. They have solemn days appointed, upon which the young men gain a new name or title of honour from their headmen; and these titles are given according to the qualities of the person, and his performances; of which these scalps are the evidence. This is all the reward they receive for the dangers of the war, and the fatigues of many campaigns, severe almost beyond credit. They think it abundantly sufficient to have a name given by their governors; men of merit themselves, and judges of it; a name respected by their countrymen, and terrible to their enemies. There are many other things fit to engage the curiosity, and even afford matter of instructive reflection, in the manners of this barbarous people; but these seem to be the most striking, and fittest to be insisted on in a work which is to give a general idea of America. The present settlements, their commerce and productions, ought to be allowed their proper room. In which I propose to treat, first of the Spanish colonies, as the first discovered and largest object, and that in which the rest of Europe, though excluded, is the most concerned. The Portuguese as nearest in place and rank, shall be second. The French shall next be considered. The English shall be reserved to the last, as the most important to ourselves.
PART III. Spanish America.
CHAP. I.
HAVING described with as much conciseness as the subject would bear, the manners of the original inhabitants of America, as we had before that related the most remarkable adventures of it’s discoverers and conquerors; it will be necessary to view m
ore minutely, what and how advantageous a country these conquests and discoveries have added to the world; and what are the views, interests, and characters of those, who at present possess the greatest part of that extensive region.
America extends from the North Pole to the fifty-seventh degree of South latitude; it is upwards of eight thousand miles in length; it sees both hemispheres; it has two summers and a double winter; it enjoys all the variety of climates which the earth affords; it is washed by the two greatest oceans. To the Eastward it has the Atlantic ocean, which divides it from Europe and Africa. To the West it has another ocean, the great South-Sea, by which it is disjoined from Asia. By these seas it may, and does carry on a direct commerce with the other three parts of world. It is composed of two vast continents, one on the North, the other upon the South, which are joined by the great kingdom of Mexico, which forms a sort of isthmus fifteen hundred miles long, and in one part, at Darien, so extremely narrow, as to make the communication between the two oceans by no means difficult. In the great gulph, which is formed between this isthmus and the Northern and Southern continents, lie an infinite multitude of islands, many of them large, and most of them fertile, and capable of being cultivated to very great advantage.