After a few preliminary remarks in which the old chief craftily laid the blame of the edict to the chief of another town whom all the Middle Mesa people fear, the discussion began as to whether the contact with the white man had been beneficial or injurious to the Hopi. Since circumstances, geographical and governmental, have conspired to keep the Hopi away from strong drink and other contaminations, the white man had a better case than usual. On his side the old chief mumbled that in the good old times the fields were more fruitful, the country covered with grass waist high, there were no cares, the people were happy and long-lived, the gods propitious, Urukiwa, the wind-god, did not drive away the rains; now all this was changed.
The Walpi spokesman then in his turn pointed out the benefits which the white man had brought. Said he:
“What were we before the white man from the far water came? Half naked, working our scanty crops with hoes of wood, often suffering from famine as the traditions relate, without sheep and beasts of burden, without peach trees and many vegetables, without sugar, flour and tobacco, and driven from place to place in the deserts by our ancient enemies. Where did you get your shirt, your cotton cloth, and your hoe? Has not Wasintona given us wagons and many other things, and protected us from the Navaho and Apache? The white man is pash lolomi, ‘very good.’”
The old man seemed vexed at the force of this argument, and he began a speech which lasted, it seemed to the listeners, about two hours. It is a loss to science that this speech could not be taken down. As near as could be gathered he began at the beginning when the people came up from the underworld, and traced the history through its various stages, detailing the events, weaving in ancient lore arguing, expanding, and digressing until he brought it down to the present.
As he drew his remarks to a close, a blast of wind charged with sand blew down the canvas sun-shade. The old chief found in this a corroboration of his contention, and, in the confusion, seized his hoe and a can of peaches, which was a present, and made off angrily, firing as a parting shot, “Go away; you are very bad!”
It is scarcely necessary to say that the next day, bright and early, witnessed the exodus of all strangers from that quiet valley near the Middle Mesa. Nashihiptuwa, clad in his natural wrinkled bronze costume, was hoeing in his bean patch, looking neither to the right nor to the left.
X
BRIEF BIOGRAPHIES
The former chief Snake Priest of Walpi was a young man of good presence, of splendid physique, with regular features and grave, dignified look; in whose face there seemed to be often a trace of melancholy, arising perhaps from deep thought. For it takes a man to be Snake Priest, and the office brings out all there is in one.
Kopeli was as well trained as any civilized man whatsoever, taking into consideration the demands of the different planes of culture. Education is as general among these Indians as it is among the more enlightened people. It would be too long to go into details, but briefly the Hopi child’s life is largely a kindergarten of play-instruction by kind teachers of things useful in active life. He is wrapped in the customs which have become religion, he is initiated into manhood, and takes his place, perhaps inherited, in the fraternities. With all these he is taught the lore, the practices, and the songs—minutiæ which require a strong memory. He learns the plants and the animals to which the Hopi had given descriptive names long before Linnæus or Cuvier. The sun is his clock, and all nature is near to him. He must work also in the fields if he would eat—no drones are tolerated. In short, there is a surprising complexity in this life, and its demands are weighty. Thus Kopeli at the head of the most powerful and awe-inspiring society of his people has been put to many tests and bore upon his shoulders the weight of immemorial custom.
While there was in Kopeli a dignity which commands respect from the mirthful Hopi, he could on occasion be as entertaining as any of his tribe, and usually was cheerful and friendly. The exception is when the Snake rites are in progress. Then he seemed a different person, and it was not proper for him to recognize his best friend.
The Walpi Snake Ceremony, of which the public dance is known to many persons, is well worth braving the journey to see. The grand entry of the Snake and Antelope priests on the dance plaza headed by Kopeli and Wiki is one of the most impressive spectacles that can be witnessed on this continent. There is so much energy put into the work; with strides positively tragic, the file of strangely costumed priests march to the kisi, where the snakes have been deposited. Then commences the weird dance with live rattlesnakes held in the mouth to the distant chant of Antelope priests. Kopeli was here at his best. He was a notable figure; no other participant displayed such eagerness and force. These were some of the salient elements of his character, and by these he succeeded, whether as a farmer or as Snake Priest, and took his high position among his people. There is an interesting mingling of the old and new at Walpi. Kopeli became a typical example of the union of past and present. Wiki, his Nestor, was in every fiber imbued with the usages and traditions of the past. One instinctively admires the old man’s firm belief, and his respect for the ancient ceremonies. The leaven of the new was in Kopeli, as may be seen from the following. A wide-awake town in New Mexico wanted the Hopi Snake Dance reproduced at the fair held there in the autumn, realizing that it would be a feature to attract many visitors. Kopeli was approached and offered what seemed to him a large sum of money for the performance. Though in some doubt as to the care and transportation of the snakes, Kopeli and the younger snake priests were tempted to favor the scheme, through his avaricious father, Supela. When Wiki, chief of the related society of the Antelopes, heard the proposal, he became very angry and put his foot down, reading the young men of lax morals a severe lecture on their duties to their religion.
Even had this plan been carried out and had proved a death blow to the so-called pagan and heathenish rites of the Hopi, one would have regretted Kopeli’s share in it. It is well known, too, that, at present, money will admit strangers to view the sacred rites of the Snake Dance, which formerly were kept inviolably secret. Evidently, the Hopi are deteriorating, when they barter their religion for silver; at no distant date, when the elder men are dead, the curious ceremonies of the Hopi will decay and disappear, and let us trust that a new and better light may be given them.