There are two motives which stimulate savage nations to war; these are _interest_ and _revenge_. The latter operates with a fierceness among rude nations, unknown among civilized people. The desire of vengeance is the first and almost only principle which the savage instils into the mind of his children. This grows with his growth and strengthens with his strength, and acquires a force and a preponderance over all other passions, which causes it to resemble the instinctive rage of a tiger or hyæna. “When under the dominion of this passion,” says Robertson, “man becomes the most cruel of all animals. He neither pities, nor forgives, nor spares. The force of this passion is so well understood by the Americans themselves, that they always apply to it in order to excite the people to take up arms. If the elders of any tribe attempt to rouse their youth from sloth, if a chief wishes to allure a band of warriors to follow him in invading an enemy’s country, the most persuasive topics of their martial eloquence are drawn from revenge. ‘The bones of our countrymen,’ say they, ‘lie uncovered; their bloody bed has not been washed clean. Their spirits cry against us; they must be appeased. Let us go and devour the people by whom they were slain. Sit no longer inactive upon your mats; lift the hatchet, console the spirits of the dead, and tell them that they shall be avenged.’” Animated with such exhortations, the youth snatch their arms in a transport of fury, raise the song of war, and burn with impatience to embrue their hands in the blood of their enemies. Private chiefs assemble small parties, and invade a hostile tribe, without consulting the rulers of the community. A single warrior, prompted by caprice or revenge, will take the field alone, and march several hundred miles to surprise and cut off a straggling enemy. The exploits of a noted warrior, in such solitary excursions, often form the chief part in the history of an American campaign; and their elders connive at such irregular sallies, as they tend to cherish a martial spirit, and accustom their people to enterprise and danger.[28] But when a war is national, and undertaken by public authority, the deliberations are formal and slow. The elders assemble; they deliver their opinions in solemn speeches; they weigh with maturity the nature of the enterprise, and balance its beneficial or disadvantageous consequences with no inconsiderable portion of political discernment or sagacity. Their priests and soothsayers are consulted, and sometimes they ask even the advice of their women.[29] If the determination be for war, they prepare for it with much ceremony. A leader offers to conduct the expedition, and is accepted. But no man is constrained to follow him; the resolution of the community to commence hostilities, imposes no obligation upon any member to take part in the war. Each individual is still master of his own conduct, and his engagement in the service is perfectly voluntary.[30]