The Medicine-Men of the Apache. (1892 N 09 / 1887-1888 (pages 443-604)). John Gregory Bourke
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years of my acquaintance with our savage tribes, and the studies and conclusions to which my observations have led. While treating in the main of the medicine-men of the Apache, I do not intend to omit any point of importance noted among other tribes or peoples.
First, in regard to the organization of the medicine-men of the Apache, it should be premised that most of my observations were made while the tribe was still actively engaged in hostilities with the whites, and they cannot be regarded as, and are not claimed to be, conclusive upon all points. The Apache are not so surely divided into medicine lodges or secret societies as is the case with the Ojibwa, as shown by Dr. W. J. Hoffman; the Siouan tribes, as related by Mr. J. Owen Dorsey; the Zuñi, according to Mr. F. H. Cushing; the Tusayan, as shown by myself, and other tribes described by other authorities.
The Navajo, who are the full brothers of the Apache, seem to have well defined divisions among their medicine-men, as demonstrated by Dr. Washington Matthews, U. S. Army; and I myself have seen great medicine lodges, which must have contained at least a dozen Apache medicine-men, engaged in some of their incantations. I have also been taken to several of the sacred caves, in which solemn religious dances and other ceremonies were conducted under the same superintendence, but never have I witnessed among the Apache any rite of religious significance in which more than four or five, or at the most six, of the medicine-men took part.
The difficulty of making an accurate determination was increased by the nomadic character of the Apache, who would always prefer to live in small villages containing only a few brush shelters, and not needing the care of more than one or two of their "doctors." These people show an unusual secretiveness and taciturnity in all that relates to their inner selves, and, living as they do in a region filled with caves and secluded nooks, on cliffs, and in deep canyons, have not been compelled to celebrate their sacred offices in "estufas," or "plazas," open to the inspection of the profane, as has been the case with so many of the Pueblo tribes.
Diligent and persistent inquiry of medicine-men whose confidence I had succeeded in gaining, convinced me that any young man can become a "doctor" ("diyi" in the Apache language, which is translated "sabio" by the Mexican captives). It is necessary to convince his friends that he "has the gift," as one of my informants expressed it; that is, he must show that he is a dreamer of dreams, given to long fasts and vigils, able to interpret omens in a satisfactory manner, and do other things of that general nature to demonstrate the possession of an intense spirituality. Then he will begin to withdraw, at least temporarily, from the society of his fellows and devote himself to long absences, especially by night, in the "high places" which were interdicted to the Israelites. Such sacred fanes, perched in dangerous and hidden retreats, can be, or until lately could be, found in many parts in our remote western territory. In my own experiences I have found them not only in the country of the Apache, but two-thirds of the way up the vertical face of the dizzy precipice of Tâaiyalana, close to Zuñi, where there is a shrine much resorted to by the young men who seek to divine the result of a contemplated enterprise by shooting arrows into a long cleft in the smooth surface of the sandstone; I have seen them in the Wolf Mountains, Montana; in the Big Horn range, Wyoming; on the lofty sides of Cloud Peak, and elsewhere. Maj. W.S. Stanton, Corps of Engineers, U. S. Army, ascended the Cloud Peak twice, and, reaching the summit on the second attempt, he found that beyond the position first attained and seeming then to be the limit of possible ascent, some wandering Indian had climbed and made his "medicine."
While it is regarded as a surer mode of learning how to be a medicine-man to seek the tuition of some one who has already gained power and influence as such, and pay him liberally in presents of all kinds for a course of instruction lasting a year or longer, I could learn of nothing to prohibit a man from assuming the rôle of a prophet or healer of the sick, if so disposed, beyond the dread of punishment for failure to cure or alleviate sickness or infirmity. Neither is there such a thing as settled dogma among these medicine-men. Each follows the dictates of his own inclinations, consulting such spirits and powers as are most amenable to his supplications and charms; but no two seem to rely upon identically the same influences. Even in the spirit dance, which is possibly the most solemn function in which the Apache medicine-men can engage, the head-dresses and kilts adhered closely enough to the one pattern, but the symbolism employed by each medicine-man was entirely different from that adopted by his neighbors.
Schultze, Perrin du Lac, Adair, and others allude to "houses of mercy," the "right of asylum" in certain lodges and buildings, or even whole villages, to which if the pursued of the tribe or even an enemy could obtain admission his life was secure. Frank Gruard and others who have lived for years among the Sioux, the Cheyenne, and other tribes of the plains have assured me that the same right of asylum obtains among them for the fugitive who takes shelter in the medicine lodge or the council lodge, and almost parallel notions prevail among the Apache. I have heard that the first American who came into one of their villages, tired and hungry, was not molested in the slightest degree.
It is stated by Kelly[1] that all warriors who go through the sun dance of the Sioux rank thereafter as medicine-men. This statement seems to me to be overdrawn. Nothing of the kind was learned by me at the sun dance of the Sioux which I noted in 1881, and in any event the remark would scarcely apply to the medicine-men of the Apache, who have nothing clearly identifiable with the sun dance, and who do not cut, gash, or in any manner mutilate themselves, as did the principal participants in the sun dance, or as was done in still earlier ages by the galli (the priests of Cybele) or the priests of Mexico.
Herodotus tells us that the priests of Egypt, or rather the doctors, who were at one time identified with them, were separated into classes; some cured the eyes, some the ears, others the head or the belly. Such a differentiation is to be observed among the Apache, Mohave, and other tribes; there are some doctors who enjoy great fame as the bringers of rain, some who claim special power over snakes, and some who profess to consult the spirits only, and do not treat the sick except when no other practitioner may be available. Among the Mohave, the relatives of a dead man will consult one of these spirit-doctors and get him to interview the ghosts who respond to his call and learn from them whether the patient died from ignorance or neglect on the part of the doctor who had charge of the case. If the spirits assert that he did, then the culprit doctor must either flee for his life or throw the onus of the crime upon some witch. This differentiation is not carried so far that a medicine-man, no matter what his class, would decline a large fee.
The right of sanctuary was conceded to all criminals who sought shelter in the vanquech or temple of Chinigchinich.[2]
The castration of the galli, or priests of Cybele, is described by Dupuis.[3]
Diego Duran asserts that the Mexican priests "se endian por medio los miembros viriles y se hacian mil cosas para volverse impotentes por no ofender á sus Dioses."[4]
The hierophants at Athens drank of the hemlock to render themselves impotent, that when they came to the pontificate they might cease to be men.[5]
One class of the Peruvian priests, the Huachus, made auguries from grains of corn or the excrement of animals.[6]
Balboa tells us[6] that the Peruvian priesthood was divided into classes, each with its appropriate functions—the Guacos made the idols for the temples, or rather, they made the idols speak; the others were necromancers and spoke only with the dead; the Huecheoc divined by means of tobacco and coco; the Caviocac became drunk before they attempted to divine, and after them came the Rumatinguis and the Huachus already mentioned.
The Oregon tribes have spirit doctors and medicine doctors.[7]
The Chinese historians relate that the shamans of the Huns possessed the power "to bring down snow, hail, rain, and wind."[8]
In all nations in the infancy of growth, social or mental, the power to coax from reluctant clouds the fructifying rain has been regarded with highest approval and will always be found confided to the most important hierophants or devolving upon some of the most prominent deities; almighty Jove was a deified rain-maker or cloud-compeller. Rain-makers flourished in Europe down to the time