In a measure the padres were right. The Indians thenceforward did manifest not only more care for the mission, but more readiness to attend mass and observe the various holy days of the church. To be baptized and receive baptismal names they had ever been willing, nay, eager, for they were permitted, if only as a means of identification, to retain their own tik‘ya shíiwe ("names totemic of the sacred assemblies"), which names the priests of the mission innocently adopted for them as surnames and scrupulously recorded in the quaint old leather-covered folios of their mission and church. Thus it chances that in these faded but beautifully and piously indicted pages of a century ago I find names so familiar, so like those I heard given only a few years since to aged Zuñi friends now passed away, that, standing out clearly from the midst of the formal Spanish phrases of these old-time books, they seem like the voices of the dead of other generations, and they tell even more clearly than such voices could tell of the causes which worked to render the Zuñis of those times apparently so reconciled to Spanish teaching and domination.
For it is manifest that when, as the meaning of his name informs us, the chief priest of the Kâ´kâkwe, or mythic drama-dancers of a hundred years ago, entered the Church of Our Lady of Guadalupe and was registered as "Feliciano Pautiatzanilunquia" (Páutia Tsani Lúnk’ya), or "Felix Of-the-sacred-dancers-glorious-sun-god-youth," neither he nor any of his attendant clan relatives, whose names are also recorded, thought of renouncing their allegiance to the gods of Zuñi or the ever sacred Kâ´kâ; but that they thought only of gaining the magic of purification and the name-potency of the gods of another people, as well as of securing the sanctification if not recognition of their own gods and priests by these other gods and priests.
That this was so is shown also by the sacred character almost invariably of even the less exalted tribal names they gave. Thus, those belonging not to the priesthood, yet to the "midmost" or septuarchial clans, as "Francisco Kautzitihua" (Káutsitiwa), or "Francis Giver of-the-midmost-dance," and "Angela Kahuitietza" (Káwiti Etsa), or "Angelina Of-the-midmost-dance Little maiden;" and those belonging to yet other clan divisions and the Kâ´kâ, like "Manuel Layatzilunquia" (Laíyatsi Lúnk‘ya), or "Emanuel Of-the-flowing plume Glorious-tall-bearer," and "María Laytzitilutza" (Laítsitilutsa), or "Mary Of-the-soft-flowing-plume Little-bearer;" and, finally, even the least sacred but mythically alegoric clan names, such as "Manuel Layujtigua" (Lá-yúhtiwa) or "Emanuel Plume-of-lightness," a name of the Eagle clan and upper division of the tribe; and "Lucia Jayatzemietza" (Haíya Tsemi Étsa), or "Lucy Of-green-growing-things-ever-thinking Little-maiden," which, alluding to the leaves of growing corn and vines when watched by the young unmarried girls, is one of the Corn or Seed clan names belonging to the southern division. Only very rarely were the colloquial names one hears most often in Zuñi (the sacred and totemic names are considered too precious for common use) given for baptismal registration. I have found but two or three. One of these is written "Estévan Nato Jasti" (Náto Hastiŋ) or "Stephen Old-tobacco," a Navajo sobriquet which, in common with the few others like it, was undoubtedly offered reluctantly in place of the "true and sacred name," because some relative who had recently borne it was dead and therefore his name could not be pronounced aloud lest his spirit and the hearts of those who mourned him be disturbed.
But the presence of these ordinary names evidences no less than that of the more "idolatrous" ones, the uncompromisingly paganistic spirit of these supposedly converted Indians, and the unmodified fashion of their thoughts at the period of their truest apparent allegiance, or at least submission, to the church. Hence I have not hesitated to pause somewhat in the course of this introductory sketch to give these examples in detail, particularly as they evidence not merely the exceeding vitality of the native Zuñi cult, but at the same time present an explanation of the strange spectacle of earnest propagandists everywhere vigilantly seeking out and ruthlessly repressing the native priesthood and their dances and other ceremonials, yet, unconsciously to themselves, solemnizing these very things by their rites of baptism, officially recognizing, in the eyes of the Indians, the very names and titles of the officiators and offices they otherwise persecuted and denounced. It was quite of a piece with all this that during the acts of worship performed in the old church at that time by the Zuñis, whilst they knelt at mass or responded as taught to the mysterious and to them magic, but otherwise meaningless, credo, they scattered in secret their sacred white prayer-meal, and invoked not only the souls of their dead priests—who as caciques or rulers of the pueblo were accorded the distinction of burial in the church, under their very feet—but also, the tribal medicine-plumes and fetiches hidden away under the very altar where stood the archenemy of their religion!
So, in following farther the Spanish history of Zuñi, we need not be surprised that all went well for a while after the completion of the church, and that more than twenty priests were at one time and another resident missionaries of Zuñi. Nor, on the other hand, need we be surprised that when in the early part of the present century these missionaries began to leave the pagan surnames out of their registers giving Spanish names instead—began to suspect, perhaps, the nature of the wall paintings, or for some other reason had them whitewashed away—and sought more assiduously than ever, in the deepest hiding places of the many-storied pueblo, to surprise the native priests at their unholy pagan practices, that the records of baptisms in the old books grew fewer and fewer, and that as the secular power withdrew more and more its support of the clergy, the latter could no longer control their disaffected flock, and that finally the old mission had to be abandoned, never again to be reoccupied save on occasions of the parochial visits of priests resident in far-away Mexican towns or in other Indian pueblos.
Nevertheless, although the old church was thus abandoned and is now utterly neglected, there lingers still with the Indians a singular sentiment for it, and this has been supposed to indicate that they retain some conscious remnant of the faith and teachings for which it once stood.
It is true that the Zuñis of today are as eager as were their forefathers for baptism and for baptismal names additional to their own. But it must be remembered that baptism—the purification of the head by sprinkling or of the face by washing with medicine-water, was a very old institution with this people even before the Spaniards found them. With them anyone being named anew or assuming a new personality or office is invariably sprinkled or washed "that he be the more cleanly revealed and the better recommended in his new guise and character to the gods and spirits" invoked for the occasion, "and thus be constantly recognized by them as their child, named of themselves, and so be made a special recipient of their favor." This custom is observed, indeed, on many occasions, as on reaching puberty or before any great change in life, or before initiation into the sacred societies, as well as both before and after war, and especially before and after performance in the sacred dances. The head and face of every participant in these mythic dramas is washed or sprinkled when he is being painted and masked to represent or to assume the presence and personality of the god for whom he is to act or by whom he is to be possessed.
Thus it may be seen that this custom probably had its rise in the simple and necessary act of washing the face for painting before the performance of any ceremony calling for the assumption of a new rôle, and in the washing away of the paint, when the ordinary condition of life was to be resumed after such performance. Thus, too, it may be seen that baptism as practiced by the early Franciscan missionaries must have seemed not only familiar to the Zuñis, but also eminently proper and desirable on occasion of their accepting the benefits of initiation into what they supposed was the Kâ´kâ, or one of the general sacred societies of these other people. No wonder, then, that when about to be baptized they insisted on giving their own sacred names of the Kâ´kâ, if only as a surety of their full recognition under them in this new Kâ´kâ, no less than under the new names they were about to receive.
It is also true that the Zuñis do not again burn the dead and cast their ashes into the river, nor bury the bodies of the clan elders, or the priests of the tribal septuarchy, in their own houses, as they did ere the time of Coronado, or "under the ladders," as their funereal rituals continue nevertheless to say they do. They bury all, now, in the little strip of consecrated ground out in front of the church; ground already so overfilled with the bones of past generations that never a new grave is made that does not encroach on other graves. Bones lie scattered all about there, rubbish accumulates, the wooden cross in the center of the place is frequently broken, and the mud walls inclosing it are sometimes allowed to fall to the ground. Yet in vain I urged them if only for sanitary reasons to abandon burying their dead there, and inter them in the sand hills to the south of the pueblo. "Alas! we could not," they said. "This was the ground of the church which was the house of our fathers wherein they were buried, they and their children, 'under the descending ladders.' How, if we bury our dead in lone places, may they be numbered with our 'fathers and children of the descending ladders?'"
But far from indicating any lingering desire for "Christian burial," this is a striking example of the real, though not apparent, persistence of their original mortuary customs. For they still ceremonially and ritualistically "burn" their ordinary dead, as did their forefathers when first compelled to bury in the churchyard, by burning some of their hair and personal effects with the customary clan offerings of food and property, and casting the ashes of all into the river; and it matters not where these, who virtually exist no more, but are, in their eyes, consumed and given to the waters, are buried, save that they be placed with the priestly dead of today, as the "children" or ordinary dead were placed with the priestly dead in the days of the "Mísa k‘yakwe" or "Mission-house people." So, too, the priests of today, or the tribal fathers, are still painted with the black of silence over their mouths and the yellow and green of light and life over their eyes and nostrils, as are the gods, and are ritualistically buried "under the ladders," that is, in their own houses, when actually buried in the churchyard. Thus, when the gods are invoked, these, as being demigods, still priests of the beloved, are also invoked, first, as "Fathers and children of the descending ladder," then as souls in the clouds and winds and waters, "Makers of the ways of life." So the whole burial ground of the church is, in the estimation of the Zuñi, a fetich whereby to invoke the souls of the ancestors, the potency of which would be destroyed if disturbed; hence the place is neither cared for nor abandoned, though recognized even by themselves as a "direful place in daylight."