In the meetings which are held within these houses the pipe naturally plays an important part; and, as the pipes made by these tribes differ from those of any other part of the world, a short description is here given of them. Both in shape and material these pipes are most remarkable. They seem to have been made for the express object of expending the greatest possible amount of labor upon the clumsiest possible pipe. I have seen and tried many of these pipes, and, except that they draw the smoke very well, there is not a redeeming point about them.
In the first place, they are carved—stem and bowl—out of solid stone, a sort of very dark slate. The upper figure in [illustration No 2], on page 1357, which represents one of these pipes in my collection, shows the lightest and least cumbrous form of pipe. Although only eight inches in length, it weighs six ounces, no trifle for a pipe of that description. As is usually the case with these pipes, it is adorned with a human figure and a human head. The figure evidently represents a man seated in a canoe. On account of the details of dress, it seems likely that it is intended to represent a native—possibly the carver himself—in European costume, the features being of a strongly-marked Indian type, while the dress is European. This pipe was presented to me by Lieut. Pusey.
Sometimes the natives absolutely run riot in pipe making, and expend infinite labor in making pipes which look utterly unlike pipes, and which cannot be smoked without the very greatest inconvenience. The [lower specimens] represent two views of a pipe of this kind, belonging to T. W. Wood, Esq., which has apparently been made for the purpose of trying how many heads of men and birds could be compressed into a certain space. As the reader may observe, the whole character of this carving bears a very strong resemblance to the art of the ancient Mexicans, so strong, indeed, that it might almost be passed off as a specimen of that art.
In total length it is a very little more than eight inches, but from bowl to the mouth-piece it only measures five inches, the remaining three inches being simply superabundant material. The number of heads that the carver has contrived to introduce into this pipe is really wonderful, the ingenuity of combination, together with force of effect, being worthy of all praise, especially when the rudeness of the workmanship is considered. Taken as a work of art, it is admirable; taken as a pipe, it is detestable. It is so heavy that the mere exertion of holding it is fatiguing, and it is so thick and clumsy that it does not at all adapt itself to the lips. And, in so cold a climate, to grasp or to put to the lips such a piece of hard, cold stone, must involve very great inconvenience.
The religious ideas of the Aht tribes are, as may be expected, exceedingly vague, and are rendered still more so by the reticence which a savage always exhibits on such subjects. Mr. Sproat remarks that he lived for two years among the Ahts, with his mind constantly directed toward this subject, before he could discover whether the people believed in any overruling power, or had any idea of a future existence. He then proceeds to say that “a traveller must have lived for many years among savages, really as one of themselves, before his opinion as to their mental and spiritual condition is of any value at all.” How true this statement is, none know better than the missionaries, who find that even their most promising converts are almost as unwilling to give information on such subjects as they were during their state of heathenism.
It is, however, ascertained that the Ahts really have a belief in a deity and in a future state, and that they possess several legends on these subjects. Some of these legends treat of a certain Quawteaht, who made the earth and the animals, but would not give them fire, this being concealed in the body of the cuttle-fish. In those days they needed fire, because the Indians, who were afterward to people the earth, were hidden in their bodies. At last the deer succeeded in discovering the fire, and carried away some of it in the joint of his hind leg. The reader will doubtless perceive the similarity of this legend to the old myth of Prometheus.
As far as can be understood, this Quawteaht is the chief of their deities, but they have a whole host of minor divinities, who preside over the sea, the woods, and their inmates, as well as rule the elements. So, if a native sees a sudden breeze curl the surface of the sea, he thinks it signifies the approval of some spirit; and if he should hear a rustling in the woods for which he cannot account, or a sound which he does not recognize, he immediately puts it down to the presence of some demon or other.
As might be expected, there are plenty of medicine men, who have great power over the people, and are implicitly trusted by them. They have to go through a long and unpleasant ordeal before they can be admitted into the order of the “Allied,” as the medicine men call themselves. When their education is nearly finished, they go into the bush alone, and remain there for several days, fasting until they have received the spiritual gifts. The society of the Allied is encouraged by the chiefs, not from religious motives, but because they become enriched by it. No one can become an Allied unless he possesses considerable wealth, the whole of which he must give away before he can be admitted into the society. The act of giving away his property is done as ostentatiously as possible, the candidate being escorted by a large body of men, who shout and make as great a noise as they can. In front of them goes the candidate, with one end of a large rope round his waist, the other end being held by fifteen or twenty men, who pretend that all their strength is required in order to hold him back.
Captain Mayne relates a curious anecdote respecting the doings of these medicine men. He was called one evening to see a moon on the beach. On arriving at the spot he found that the men had made a flat disk of wax to represent the moon, and had painted a man upon it,—they having the belief, which is still prevalent among the illiterate of our own country, respecting a man who lives in the moon. They had lighted a torch and placed it behind the artificial moon, so as to illuminate it, and were supposed to be holding converse with its inhabitant, much to the awe of the surrounding crowd.
These medicine men seem to be divided into three parties, or sects. One of them does not appear to be particularly distinguished, but the other two gradually rise in circumstances of horror. The former sect is called the Dog-eaters, a portion of whose initiation is described by Mr. Duncan, and is [illustrated] on page 1367.