131. Ethics.—Among themselves, these men have a code of ethics which is, in general, more honestly upheld than the code of our own medical profession. They exhibit no jealousy of one another. They boast not of the excellence of the particular rite they practise. They assist and counsel one another. If a medicine-man, in performing a rite, finds that his supply of some sacred article is exhausted, he sends to the nearest medicine-man for it. If the latter has it, he is obliged to give, and is not allowed to receive payment in return.
132. Torlino.—They are as willing as any other Indians to learn the white man’s philosophy. Old Torlino, a priest of hozóni hatál, sent a son to school at Carlisle, and when the young man returned he no doubt imparted to his father much that he had learned there. The writer sent for the old man to get from him the myth of hozóni hatál. Torlino began: “I know the white men say the world is round, and that it floats in the air. My tale says the world is flat, and that there are five worlds, one above another. You will not believe my tale, then, and perhaps you do not want to hear it.” Being assured that the tale was earnestly desired, despite of all white men’s theories, he proceeded. “I shall tell you the truth, then. I shall tell you all that I heard from the old men who taught me, as well as I can now remember. Why should I lie to you?” And then he made the interesting asseveration which is here literally translated: “I am ashamed before the earth; I am ashamed before the heavens; I am ashamed before the dawn; I am ashamed before the evening twilight; I am ashamed before the blue sky; I am ashamed before the darkness; I am ashamed before the sun; I am ashamed before that standing within me which speaks with me (my conscience!).[274] Some of these things are always looking at me. I am never out of sight. Therefore I must tell the truth. That is why I always tell the truth. I hold my word tight to my breast.”
133. Medical Practice.—Often have the shamans come to the author for treatment for themselves and their friends, and they never made any secret of this, but asked for medicine in the presence of the laity of their own tribe. They do not pretend to deal in panaceas. On the other hand, in cases where the author has failed to give prompt relief to a sick Indian, they have come in all sincerity and politeness and said, “I know a remedy for that difficulty. Will you let me try it?” They do not confine themselves to the practice of their shamanistic rites. They use various plants in the treatment of disease, and these, in simple, acute cases, they administer without prayer, sacrifice, or incantation.
Fig. 32. The Shaman Hatáli Nĕz (Tall Chanter).
A LAST WORD (TO POETS AND OTHERS).
134. It is possible that poets, novelists, travellers, and compilers will search this humble volume and cull from it facts and fancies, which, clothed in fairer diction, may add interest to their pages. The author does not ask that such writers shall acknowledge the source of their inspiration. This is more than he has a right to expect. Our greatest poets have borrowed from sources as obscure and never named their creditors. The author has often, ere now, experienced the pleasure of seeing his thoughts and discoveries blazoned in print over other names. But he ventures to make a few requests of the literary borrower. He begs that the latter will not garble or distort what is here written,—that he will not put alien thoughts into the minds of these pagan heroes; that he will not arm them with the weapons nor clothe them in the habiliments of an alien race; that he will not make them act incongruous parts.
135. Stephen Powers, in his “Tribes of California”[326] (page 38), gives, in simple and direct language, the story of how fire came to the Karok nation. A few years after he wrote, some one worked his story into a “poem,” which appeared, most artistically illustrated, in one of our leading magazines. In this poem the Coyote, in a quandary, is represented as “stroking his goatee.” Coyotes have no goatees; Indians have no goatees. The act of stroking the goatee, in thought or perplexity, is the special mannerism of a nervous American. No allusion could be more out of place in an Indian legend. Should the poet referred to ever select any of the tales in this book to be tortured into a poem, I beg that he will not, even for the sake of making a faulty rhyme, put a beard on the chin of the Navaho Coyote God.
WASHINGTON MATTHEWS.