By far the most drastic upheavals were caused by invisible invaders, the foreign bacteria introduced from the Old World. Native populations cut off from Europe, Africa, and Asia for millennia were utterly without immunity to smallpox, measles, and other ailments the newcomers unwittingly brought across the seas. These maladies may have reached the Piedmont well before the first European. Spanish explorers who marched through what is now central South Carolina in 1540 came upon villages abandoned during an epidemic that had struck the area two years before (Bourne 1904:66). Did natives living farther north suffer similar devastation? Did illnesses that swept through the aboriginal population near the English settlement on Roanoke Island in the 1580s find their way upriver (Hariot 1972:27-28)? The answers require further archaeological research. But it seems unlikely, even impossible, that inhabitants of the uplands managed to escape all of the epidemics raging through eastern North America during these years. Certainly by Lawson's day Piedmont Indians were all too familiar with the lethal consequences of contact. The Sewee along the South Carolina coast were "now very much decreas'd," he reported, "and all other Nations of Indians are observ'd to partake of the same Fate, where the Europeans come, the Indians being a People very apt to catch any Distemper they are afflicted withal" (Lefler 1967:17).
Precisely how "apt" upcountry natives were to succumb to alien infections remains unclear, but by any standard of measurement the devastation was severe. Lawson talked of entire communities being wiped out by smallpox and estimated that since 1660 only one Indian in six living within two hundred miles of English settlements had survived (Lefler 1967:232). Archaeological evidence from a Sara settlement on the Dan River offers grim confirmation of Lawson's claim. The site, occupied for a single generation in the latter half of the seventeenth century, contained so many bodies in such a short span of time that few could have escaped the terrible scourge (Ward 1980:182; Navey 1982:83).
Those who did manage to survive had to pick up the pieces of their lives. It was not an easy task amidst the despair that followed in the wake of demographic disaster. One village along the Pee Dee River yielded mute testimony of the psychological havoc natives may have suffered. The area contained a markedly higher proportion of infant burials, suggesting a sharp increase in infant mortality due to disease. Moreover, the strikingly more elaborate ornamentation interred with each body hints at a heightened sense of loss among the survivors (Lewis 1951:328-329).
There was little opportunity to dwell on the past, however. Survival demanded that people cope with the present and think of the future. A village that had been reduced from 600 to 100, or 300 to 50, could no longer carry on alone. Thus the tattered remnants of Piedmont peoples began to merge with others to create new communities. Most of these unions went unseen or unrecorded by Europeans, and their documentation therefore must await further archaeological inquiry. But the first step was probably to join kinfolk from a nearby town or hamlet. In this manner a "people" that had once comprised a whole series of settlements scattered through a particular region or river valley now collapsed into a single town (Simpkins 1984). That "people" would still be set off from the world outside by language, customs, appearance, a kinship network--in short, by all of the characteristics that had always combined to create a distinct identify. But it would now occupy one site rather than many. The Monacan living along the James River in 1700, for example, were probably descendants of the entire cluster of villages John Smith had recorded for the lands above the falls almost a century before (Mooney 1894:18-22; McCary 1957; Bushnell 1920; Michel 1916:29-30, 122-123). Similarly, it seems likely that the Occaneechi, Saponi, Keyauwee, Tutelo, and others Lawson visited were remnants, mere shadows, of more populous and more complex societies.
Lawson himself arrived on the scene in the midst of the second stage of the native response to depopulation. Continued visitations by alien diseases (the most recent smallpox epidemic had occurred only three years before) eventually reduced native numbers so drastically that survivors were compelled to look further afield for others with whom to unite. This process may have been underway in some areas by 1600 (Benthall 1969:45-48). By the time Lawson penetrated the Carolina interior, the Eno, Shakori, and Adshusheer had already come together to form a single community, and the Saponi, Tutelo, and Keyauwee were about to do the same (Lefler 1967:53, 61). None of these particular combinations endured. In 1708, the Saponi--alone--moved to the Virginia frontier, and during the next few years the Tutelo, Occaneechi (themselves a collection of groups as early as the 1670s [Alvord and Bidgood 1912:225]), and the Monacan remnants followed them during the next few years (Merrell 1982a:107, 113; Mooney 1894:18-19, 21). Meanwhile, the Shakori applied to South Carolina for protection, and the Keyauwee, Eno, and Sara combined forces and headed in the same southerly direction (Merrell 1982a:107-108, 113).
It is virtually impossible to retrace the steps of each native group, to reconstruct the shuffling and reshuffling that became almost routine as Indians sought to adjust to a new disease environment. It is even more difficult to gauge the impact of these stresses on the people involved. We can surmise, however, that the effect was profound. All of the available evidence suggests that inhabitants of the Piedmont, although culturally related, were intensely localistic, focusing their existence within a tightly circumscribed cultural and geographical range. This localism found expression in a number of ways. Lawson was astonished to find
a strange Difference in the Proportion and Beauty of these Heathens. Altho' their Tribes or Nations border one upon another, yet you may discern as great an Alteration in their Features and Dispositions, as you can in their Speech, which generally proves quite different from each other, though their Nations be not above 10 or 20 Miles in Distance. (Lefler 1967:35)
Thus the Keyauwee had whiskers, and the Tutelo were "tall, likely Men," while the Eno were of "mean stature" (Lefler 1967:58, 54; Cumming 1958:27). Cultural differences were equally clear. In 1670 the explorer John Lederer learned that Occaneechis were ruled by two headmen, Eno society was "Democratick," while the Saponi were governed by "an absolute Monarch" (Cumming 1958:25, 27, 24). Lederer also learned to distinguish among neighboring groups by their signs: the Occaneechi marked themselves with a serpent, the Saponi with three arrows, symbolic embodiments of their separate identities (Cumming 1958:13; Beverley 1947:161).
Natural boundaries--rivers, swamps, upland ridges, areas of poor soil--had long served to reinforce localism. Buffer zones, or "deserts" in English parlance, clearly divided Piedmont from Coastal Plain, and within the upcountry itself less obvious "deserts" set peoples off from another (Arber and Bradley 1910:59, 70; Baker 1975:25-36; Turner 1978:42-46; MacCord 1983:9-10; Simpkins 1984). Tales of the evils awaiting those who dared venture beyond local boundaries strengthened environmental barriers. A common story about a fierce creature inhabiting the headwaters of Neuse River frightened hunters away and may have been designed to keep people out of a border region (Lefler 1967:130). Explorers who traveled through uninhabited areas and had to live off the land rather than off the natives were unwittingly charting the ancient physical and cultural boundaries dividing peoples (Varner and Varner 1951:283-284, 331; Bourne 1904:59-62).
In the aftermath of an epidemic, Indians had to cross these boundaries as never before. Strangers became friends, the tall and the short lived side by side, necessity invented a common language and a common council of leaders from different groups. Those involved made the difficult process of adjustment less painful by keeping their old identity as much as possible. The Saponi, Tutelo, Occaneechi, and Stuckanock (Monacan), who collected in a single village at Fort Christanna on the Meherrin River, were considered "one Nation" by Virginia authorities (Great Britain, Public Record Office, Colonial Office, Series 5, 1714:1316:622). The Indians thought differently. Even after merging, each group continued to choose its own headmen and to adhere to its own customs (Brock 1885:88; Wright 1966:315-316). The Sara in the Catawba Nation did the same, not only heeding their own chiefs more than a generation after joining the Catawba but also living in their own village (Merrell 1982a:311, 400-401).
Archaeological evidence indicates that segregation extended from this world to the next. In aboriginal times Piedmont folk buried their dead at random in the village, in effect making the entire community a graveyard and suggesting that everyone in the settlement possessed a common identity. During the Historic period, on the other hand, interments were made in clusters, creating a handful of discrete cemeteries. Did several hitherto independent groups now occupy one town and, still acutely conscious of their own identities, express that consciousness by creating distinct burial grounds (Ward 1984b)? At this point the pattern unearthed is suggestive rather than conclusive. But it fits well with the other habits recorded by European observers. Piedmont peoples did not shed their ancient identities overnight or even over a generation. The Saponi, Occaneechi, and Tutelo had a common destiny but separate identities until the era of the American Revolution, and as late as the mid-nineteenth century the Sara among the Catawba still spoke their own language at home (Hale 1883:10; Pearson 1842:5). Eroded by disease and by time, ethnic feelings nonetheless endured for generations.
Piedmont peoples' attachment to the past extended well beyond maintaining ancient loyalties to embrace many aspects of traditional life. The result of demographic disaster could have been profound despair and cultural ruin, stemming from a feeling that the supernatural forces protecting a society had failed and should be abandoned. Evidence turned up in the archives and in the earth suggests otherwise. Even the burials uncovered along the Dan and the Pee Dee, which speak so poignantly of the devastation wrought by an epidemic, also testify to a faith unshaken by recent events. Orientation of the body, positioning of the remains, inclusion of burial goods to accompany the soul into the afterlife--all suggest careful attention to time-honored customs designed to meet the demands of the supernatural. Recently discovered hints of feasts that took place at the burial site after interment only strengthen the idea that the old ways still endured in a Piedmont world periodically wracked by inexplicable disaster (Navey 1982; Dickens et al. 1984:30-37, 52).
If these burial feasts did persist, they were only part of a regular round of ceremonies that stretched across the generations into Lawson's time. Lawson himself ran across many more examples of rituals with roots in the remote past. "All the Indians hereabouts," he wrote while among the Keyauwee, "carefully preserve the Bones of the Flesh they eat, and burn them, as being of Opinion, that if they omitted that Custom, the Game would leave their Country, and they should not be able to maintain themselves by their Hunting" (Lefler 1967:58). Native travelers were no less cautious about propitiating the gods by adding a stone to a pile at a sacred site or placing some tobacco in the hollow of a large rock beside the trail (Lefler 1967:50, 63). Nor could time erase the fear of breaking customary rules. While exploring the interior in 1728, William Byrd II discovered that his Indian companion, a Saponi named Ned Bearskin, vehemently objected when the Englishmen in the party tried to cook venison and turkey in the same pot. No amount of cajoling or ridicule could make Bearskin drop the subject. He knew--as Southeastern Indians had always known (Hudson 1976:148, 165, 302)--that mixing inhabitants of the earth and the sky would bring disaster. Byrd considered it the silliest superstition; to the Saponi it was very real and very frightening indeed (Wright 1966:116-117, 243-244).
Bearskin believed because he, like other Piedmont Indians, had seen sufficient proof that the old magic still worked. The priests were powerless to stop the new diseases sweeping through their villages, but experience was teaching them how not to respond when smallpox struck. "Now they are become a little wiser" about the best means of treating it, Lawson reported (Lefler 1967:232). Moreover, in other cures their wisdom was still unsurpassed. Using local herbs and ancient skills, natives astonished Lawson again and again with their abilities (Lefler 1967:17, 27, 48-49). At the Saponi town, an Indian "Doctor" ushered the English traveler into his dwelling and proudly "shew'd me a great Quantity of medicinal Drugs, the Produce of those Parts; Relating their Qualities . . . and what great Maladies he had heal'd by them" (Lefler 1967:54). Near the village stood several stone sweat lodges which "they make such Use of" as a cure for a wide variety of symptoms, and archaeological research reveals that the Occaneechi also retired to sweat lodges when they felt ill (Lefler 1967:55; Ewan and Ewan 1971:379; Alexander 1972:97; Dickens et al. 1984:3, 39, 42). Nor were priestly powers confined to healing. When a fierce wind struck the Saponi settlement the day after Lawson had admired the "Doctor's" pharmacy, the frightened Englishman rushed from his bed to find the headman in the center of the community busy with "his Necromantick Practice." Lawson's initial skepticism faded rapidly, for "in two Minutes, the Wind was ceas'd, and it became as great a Calm, as ever I knew in my Life" (Lefler 1967:55). If Lawson were converted, for others this merely confirmed what they already knew: the gods lived.
Given the continuing power of the ancient system of belief and behavior, it is not surprising that traditional authority figures continued to exert enormous influence. The elderly, customarily the repositories of secret skills and ancient lore, had been depleted by disease; but their authority remained. "Old Age [is] held in as great Veneration amongst these Heathens, as amongst any People you shall meet withal in any Part of the World," Lawson wrote (Lefler 1967:43). Piedmont society set off old from young by different titles, secret languages, and special access to temples or other sacred places. They took precedence in welcoming visitors, speaking in council, and making decisions (Lefler 1967:43, 177-178, 210, 219, 231; Cumming 1958:14, 27, 41). Were the aged also differentiated by special burial customs, more elaborate burial goods, or some other distinguishing features? The answer awaits further archaeological inquiry (Navey 1982:191-194).
Thus the upheavals caused by sickness had not divorced Piedmont societies from their past. Life could never be the same again for those lucky enough to come through an epidemic alive. Still, they managed to rearrange their lives under the most difficult conditions without forgetting the lessons handed down from their ancestors.