LIFE AND MANNERS OF THE INDIANS

AT THE TIME WHEN WHITE men first came to Wisconsin, there were found here several widely differing tribes of Indians, and these were often at war with one another. The Winnebagoes, an offshoot of the Sioux, occupied the valleys of the Wisconsin and the Fox, and the shores of Green Bay as far down as Sturgeon Bay. If the theory of the ethnologists be correct, that most of the Wisconsin mounds were built by the Winnebagoes, then at times they must have dwelt in nearly every corner of the State. This is not unlikely, for the centers of Indian population were continually shifting, the red men being driven hither and thither by encroachments of enemies, religious fancies, or the never-ending search for food. We know only that when the whites found them, they were holding these two valleys, between Green Bay and Prairie du Chien. A broad-faced people, with flat noses, they were in personal appearance, habits, and morals the least attractive of all our tribes. Their cousins, the wild and dashing Sioux, were still using northwest Wisconsin as a hunting ground, and had permanent villages in Minnesota, and elsewhere to the west of the Mississippi River. The Chippewas (or Ojibways, as the name was originally spelled), the best of our Wisconsin aborigines, were scattered through the northern part of the State, as far south as the Black River, and perhaps as far eastward as the Wolf. East of them were the Menominees (Wild-Rice Eaters), a comparatively gentle folk, who gathered great stores of grain from the broad fields of wild rice which flourishes in the bayous and marshy river bottoms of northeast Wisconsin. The Pottawattomies, with feminine cast of countenance, occupied the islands at the mouth of Green Bay, and the west shore of Lake Michigan, down into Illinois. The united Sacs (or Saukies) and Foxes (Outagamies) were also prominent tribes. When first seen by whites, the Sacs and Foxes were weak in numbers, but, being a bold and warlike people, they soon grew to importance, and crowded the Winnebagoes out of the Fox valley and, later, out of much of the Wisconsin valley, becoming in their pride and strength bitter enemies of the French.

Scattered elsewhere through the State were some smaller tribes: the Mascoutins (Fire Nation), chiefly in the neighborhood of the present city of Berlin; the short-limbed Kickapoos, in the Kickapoo valley; and, at various periods, bands of Hurons, Illinois, Miamis, and Ottawas, none of whom ever played a large part here. The Stockbridges, Oneidas, Brothertowns, and Munsees, now numerous in northeast Wisconsin, are remnants of New York and Massachusetts tribes who were removed hither by the general government in 1822 and later.

No two tribes spoke the same language. In Wisconsin, the Indians were divided by language into two great families, the Algonkin and the Dakotan. The Sioux and the Winnebagoes belonged, by their similar speech, to the Dakotan family, just as the English and the Germans belong to the great Teutonic family. All the others were of the Algonkin group, just as the French, the Spanish, and the Italians belong to what is called the Latin family, and speak languages which have the same origin. The Indian history of Wisconsin is the more interesting, because here these two great families or groups met, clashed, and intermingled. Despite the diversity of tongues, they were, with certain variations, much the same sort of people; and for our present purpose, the description of one tribe will serve for the description of all.

In size, Indians resemble Europeans; some are shorter than the average white man, some taller; the Kickapoos were among the short men. Indians have black eyes and coarse, black hair. Most of them wear no beard, but as the hairs appear, pluck them out with tweezers of wood or clam shell. They have thin lips, high cheek bones, broad faces, and prominent noses; the Winnebago’s nose is large, but much flattened.

In primitive times, the summer dress of the men was generally a short apron made of the well-tanned skin of a wild animal, the women being clothed in skins from neck to knees; in winter, both sexes wrapped themselves in large fur robes. In some parts of North America, especially in the south, where the Indians were more highly developed than those in the north, they wove rude cloths of thread spun from buffalo hair, or of sinews of animals killed in the chase. It is not supposed that there was much of this cloth made in Wisconsin. What specimens have been discovered in our mounds, no doubt were obtained from the native peddlers, who wandered far and wide carrying the peculiar products of several tribes, and exchanging them for other goods, or for wampum, the universal currency of the forest. Moccasins of deerskin were in general use; also leggins, with the fur turned inward or outward according to the weather. Much of their clothing was stained red or black or yellow; some was painted in stripes or lace work, and some was decorated with pictures of birds and beasts, or with scenes which they wished to commemorate. One old writer quaintly speaks of “a great skinne painted and drawen and pourtrayed that nothing lacked but life.” Their dress was also ornamented by beads and porcupine quills; in the fringed borders of their leggins and robes were often fastened deer’s hoofs, the spurs of wild turkeys, or the claws of bears or eagles, which rattled as their wearers walked along. Around their necks were strings of beads, and their ears and noses were pierced for the hanging of various other ornaments. In their hair, the men tied eagle feathers, one for each scalp taken.

The “war bonnet,” worn by the leading warriors, was a headdress of skins and feathers, which trailed down the back and often to the ground, and was highly picturesque. Add to this, the general habit of tattooing, or, on ceremonial occasions, of fantastically, often hideously, painting the face and neck and breast in blue, black, and red, and one can well imagine that an Indian village, on a fête day, or at other times of popular excitement, presented a striking scene.

Each tribe could be readily distinguished from others, by the shape and material of its wigwams or huts. The Chippewas, for instance, lived in hemispherical huts, covered with great sheets of birch-bark; the Winnebago hut was more of the shape of a sugar loaf, and was covered with mats of woven rushes; the Sioux dwelt in cone-shaped huts (tepees), covered with skins, the poles sticking out at the top. These huts were foully kept, and all manner of camp diseases prevailed; pulmonary complaints and rheumatism were particularly frequent, and both men and women looked old and haggard before they reached middle age.

In the old mound building days, the huts of the village leaders or chiefs were no doubt built upon the tops of the mounds, while the common people lived on the lower level. On top of a very large, conspicuous mound was the council house, where important events were discussed and action taken. Every warrior, that is, every man who had taken the scalp of an enemy, was permitted to be heard around the council fire; but the talking was for the most part done by the privileged class of headmen, old men, wise men, and orators.

The political organization of the Indians was weak. The villages were little democracies, where one warrior considered himself as good as another, except for the respect naturally due to the chiefs or headmen of the several clans, or to those who had the reputation of being wise and able. The sachem, or peace-chief, whose office was hereditary through connection with his mother’s family, had but slight authority unless his natural gifts commanded respect.

When war broke out, the fighting men ranged themselves as volunteers under some popular leader, perhaps a regular chief, or perhaps only a common warrior. When the village council decided to do something, any man might, if he wished, refuse to obey. It was seldom that an entire tribe, consisting of several villages, united in an important undertaking; still more unusual was it, for several tribes to unite. This was, of course, a weak organization, such as a pure democracy is sure to be. The Indian lacked self-control and steadfastness of purpose, and the tribes and villages were jealous of one another; so they yielded before the whites, who better understood the value of union in the face of a common foe. The formidable conspiracies of King Philip, Pontiac, and some others were the work of Indians of quite unusual ability in the art of organization; but the leaders could find few others equal to their skill, and the uprisings were shortlived.

The Indian’s strength as a fighter lay in his capacity for stratagem, in his ability to thread the tangled forest as silently and easily as the plain, and in his habit of making rapid, unexpected sallies for robbery and murder, and then gliding back into the dark and almost impenetrable forest. He soon tired of long military operations, and, when hard pressed, was apt to yield to the white men who were often inferior in numbers, but who soon learned to adopt the aborigine’s skulking method of warfare.

Lord of his own wigwam, and tyrannical over his squaws, the Indian was kind and hospitable to unsuspected strangers, yet merciless to a captive. Nevertheless, prisoners were often snatched from the stake, or the hands of a cruel captor, to be adopted into the family of the rescuer, taking the place of some one killed by the enemy. The red man was improvident, given to gambling, and, despite the popular notion, was a jolly, easy-going sort of fellow around his own fire; but in council, and when among strangers, he was...