When the Spaniard came into Arizona and New Mexico three hundred and fifty years ago, he found the art of weaving in a well-advanced stage among the domestic and sedentary Pueblo Indians, and the wild and nomad Navahoes. The cotton of these blankets was grown by these Arizona Indians from time immemorial, and they also used the tough fibres of the yucca, and agave leaves, and the hairs of various wild animals, either separately or with cotton. Their processes of weaving were exactly the same then as they are to-day, there being but slight differences between the methods followed before the advent of the whites and after. Hence, in a study of Indian blanketry, as it is made even to-day, we are approximating nearly to the pure aboriginal methods of pre-Columbian times.

ArchÆologists and ethnologists generally presume that the art of weaving on the loom was learned by the Navahoes from their Pueblo neighbors. All the facts in the case seem to bear out this supposition. Yet, as is well known, the Navahoes are a part of the great Athabascan family, which has scattered, by separate migrations, from Alaska into California, Arizona, and New Mexico. Many of the Alaskans are good weavers, and according to Navaho traditions, their ancestors, when they came into the country, wore blankets that were made of cedar bark and of yucca fibre. Even in the Alaska (Thlinket) blankets, made to-day of the wool of the white mountain-goat, cedar bark is twisted in with the wool of the warp. Why, then, should not the Navaho woman have brought the art of weaving, possibly in a very primitive condition, from her original Alaskan home? That her art, however, has been improved by contact with the pueblo Hopi, and other Indians, there can be no question, and, if she had a crude loom, it was speedily replaced by the one so long used by the Pueblo. Where the Pueblo weaver gained her loom we do not know, whether from the tribes of the South, or by her own invention. But in all practical ways the primitive loom was as complete and perfect at the Spanish conquest as it is to-day.

Any loom, to be complete, must possess certain qualifications. As Professor Mason has well said: "In any style of mechanical weaving, however simple or complex, even in darning, the following operations are performed: First, raising and lowering alternately different sets of warp filaments to form the 'sheds'; second, throwing the shuttle, or performing some operation that amounts to the same thing; third, after inserting the weft thread, driving it home, and adjusting it by means of the batten,—be it the needle, the finger, the shuttle, or a separate device."

The frame is made of four cottonwood or cedar poles cut from the trees that line the nearest stream or grow in the mountain forests. Two of these are forked for uprights, and the cross beams are lashed to them above and below. Sometimes the lower beam is dispensed with, and wooden pegs driven into the earth are used instead. The frame ready, the warp is arranged on beams, which are lashed to the top and bottom of the frame by means of a rawhide or horsehair riata (our Western word "lariat" is merely a corruption of la riata). Thus the warp is made tight and is ready for the nimble fingers of the weaver. Her shuttles are pieces of smooth, round stick upon the ends of which she has wound her yarn, or even the small balls of yarn are made to serve this purpose. By her side is a rude wooden comb with which she strikes a few stitches into place, but when she wishes to wedge the yarn of a complete row—from side to side—of weaving, she uses for the purpose a flat, broad stick, one edge of which is sharpened almost to knife-like keenness. This is the "batten." With the design in her brain her busy and skilful fingers produce the pattern as she desires it, there being no sketch from which she may copy. In weaving a blanket of intricate pattern and many colors the weaver finds it easier to open the few warp threads needed with her fingers and then thrust between them the small balls of yarn, rather than bother with a shuttle, no matter how simple.

But before blankets can be made the wool must be cut from the backs of the sheep, cleaned, carded, spun, and dyed. It is one of the interesting sights of the Southwest region to see a flock of sheep and goats running together, watched over, perhaps, by a lad of ten or a dozen years, or by a woman who is ultimately to weave the fleeces they carry into substantial blankets. After the fleece has been removed from the sheep the Navaho woman proceeds to wash it. Then it is combed with hand cards—small flat implements in which wire teeth are placed—purchased from the traders. (These and the shears are the only modern implements used.) The dyeing is sometimes done before spinning, generally, however, after. The spindle used is of the simplest character—merely a slender stick thrust through a circular disk of wood. In spite of the fact that the Navahoes have seen the spinning-wheel in use by the Mexicans and the Mormons, who, at Tuba City, live practically as their neighbors, they have never cared either to make or steal them. Their conservatism preserves the ancient, slow and laborious method. Holding the spindle in the right hand, the point of the short end below the balancing disk resting on the ground, and the long end on her knee, the spinner attaches the end of her staple close to the disk, and then gives the spindle a rapid twirl. As it revolves she holds the yarn out so that it twists. As it tightens sufficiently she allows it to wrap on to the spindle, and repeats the operation until the spindle is full. The spinning is done loosely or tightly according to the fineness of weave required in the blanket. There are practically four grades of blankets made from native wool, and it must be prepared suitably for each grade. The coarsest is, of course, the easiest spun. This is to make the common blankets. These seldom have any other color than the native gray, white, brown, and black, though occasionally streaks of red or some other color will be introduced. The yarn for these is coarse and fuzzy, and nearly a quarter of an inch in diameter. The next grade is the extra common. The yarn for this must be a little finer, say twenty-five per cent. finer, and is generally in a variety of colors. The third grade is the half fancy, and this is closer woven yarn, and the colors are a prominent feature of the completed blankets. These half-fancy blankets are those generally offered for sale as the "genuine" Navaho material, etc., and, were the dyes used of native origin, this designation would be correct. Unfortunately, in by far the greater number of them, aniline dyes are used, and this, by the wise purchaser, is regarded as a misfortune. The next grade is the native wool fancy. These are comparatively rare blankets, as the yarn must be woven very tightly, and the weaving also done with great care. The highest grade that one will ordinary come in contact with is the Germantown. This style of blanket is made entirely of purchased Germantown yarn, which has almost superseded the native wool fancy, as, to the ordinary purchaser, a Germantown yarn blanket looks so much better than one made from its Navaho counterpart. The yarn is of brighter colors—necessarily so, owing to the wonderful chromatic gamut offered by the aniline dyes; it is spun more evenly (not necessarily more strongly, and, indeed, as a matter of fact, is far less strong), and (to the Indian) is much less trouble to procure. Then, too, when woven, owing to its good looks, it sells for more than the native wool fancy, upon which so much more work has had to be put. Hence Madam Navaho, being no fool, prefers to make what the people ask for, and "Germantowns" are turned out ad libitum.

But, to the knowing, there is still a higher grade of blanket. This is not, as one expert (sic) would have it, an attempted copying of ancient blankets, but a continuation of an art which he declares to be lost. There are several old weavers who preserve in themselves all the old and good of the best days of blanket weaving. They use native dyes, native wool,—with bayeta when they can get it,—and they spin their wool to a tension that makes it as durable as fine steel. They weave with care, and after the old fashions, following the ancient shapes and designs, and produce blankets that are as good as any that were ever made in the palmiest days of the art. Such blankets take long in weaving, and are both rare and expensive. I have just had one of these fine blankets made (January, 1903), and in every sense of the word it is equal to any old blanket I ever saw.

The common blankets and the extra common are sold by the pound, the price, of course, varying, and of late years steadily increasing. Half-fancy blankets are generally sold by the piece, and vary in price according to the harmony of the colors, the fineness of the weave, and the striking characteristics of the design. This is also true of native wool fancy, the price being determined by the Indian according to her notions of the length of the purchaser's purse. On the other hand, Germantown yarn having a fixed purchasable price, the blankets made from it are to be bought by the pound.

These remarks, necessarily, refer to the original purchases from the Indian. There are no general rules of purchase price followed by traders, dealers, or retail salesmen.

In the original colors, as I have already shown, there are white, brown, gray, and black, the last rather a grayish-black, or, better still, as Matthews describes it, rusty. He also says: "They still employ to a great extent their native dyes of yellow, reddish, and black. There is good evidence that they formerly had a blue dye; but indigo, originally introduced, I think, by the Mexicans, has susperseded this. If they, in former days, had a native blue and a native yellow, they must also, of course, have had a green, and they now make green of their native yellow and indigo, the latter being the only imported dye-stuff I have ever seen in use among them.... The brilliant red figures in their finer blankets were, a few years ago, made entirely of bayeta, and this material is still (1881) largely used. Bayeta is a bright scarlet cloth with a long nap, much finer in appearance than the scarlet strouding which forms such an important article in the Indian trade of the North."

This bayeta or baize was unravelled, and the Indian often retwisted the warp to make it firmer than originally, and then rewove it into his incomparable blankets.

From information mainly gained by Mr. G. H. Pepper, of the American Museum of Natural History, during his three years' sojourn with the Navahoes as head of the Hyde Exploring Expedition, I present the following accounts of their native dyes. From the earliest days the Navahoes have been expert dyers, their colors being black, brick-red, russet, blue, yellow, and a greenish-yellow akin to the shade known as old gold. To make the black dye three ingredients are used; viz., yellow ochre, pinion gum, and the leaves and twigs of the aromatic sumac (Rhus aromatica). The ochre is pulverized and roasted until it becomes a light brown, when it is removed from the fire and mixed with an equal amount of pinion gum. This mixture is then placed on the fire, and as the roasting continues it first becomes mushy, then drier and darker, until nothing but a fine black powder is left. In the meantime the sumac leaves and twigs are being boiled, five or six hours being required to fully extract the juices. When both are somewhat cooled they are mixed, and almost immediately a rich bluish-black fluid is formed.

For yellow dye the tops of a flowering weed (Bigelovia graveolens) are boiled for several hours until the liquid assumes a deep yellow color. As soon as the dyer deems the extraction of the color juices nearly complete, she takes some native alum (almogen) and heats it over the fire, and, when it becomes pasty, gradually adds it to the boiling decoction, which slowly becomes of the required yellow color.

The brick-red dye is extracted from the bark and roots of the sumac, and ground black alder bark, with the ashes of the juniper as a mordant. She now immerses the wool and allows it to remain in the dye from half an hour to an hour.

Whence come the designs incorporated by these simple weavers into their blankets, sashes, and dresses? In this, as in basketry and pottery, the answer is found in nature. Indeed, many of their textile designs suggest a derivation from basketry ornamentation (which originally came from nature), "as the angular, curveless figures of interlaying plaits predominate, and the principal subjects are the same—conventional devices representing clouds, stars, lightning, the rainbow, and emblems of the deities. But these simple forms are produced in endless combination and often in brilliant, kaleidoscopic grouping, presenting broad effects of scarlet and black, of green, yellow, and blue upon scarlet, and wide ranges of color skilfully blended upon a ground of white. The centre of the fabric is frequently occupied with tessellated or lozenge patterns of multi-colored sides, or divided into panels of contrasting colors in which different designs appear; some display symmetric zigzags, converging and spreading throughout their length; in others, bands of high color are defined by zones of neutral tints, or parted by thin, bright lines into a checkered mosaic, and in many only the most subdued shades appear. Fine effects are obtained by using a soft, gray wool in its natural state, to form the body of the fabric in solid color, upon which figures in orange and scarlet are introduced; also in those woven in narrow stripes of black and deep blue, having the borders relieved in bright tinted meanders along the sides and ends, or with a central colored figure in the dark body, with the design repeated in a diagonal panel at each corner.

"The greatest charm, however, of these primitive fabrics, is the unrestrained freedom shown by the weaver in her treatment of primitive conventions. To the checkered emblem of the rainbow she adds sweeping rays of color, typifying sunbeams; below the many-angled cloud group, she inserts random pencil lines of rain; or she softens the rigid meander, signifying lightning, with graceful interlacing, and shaded tints. Not confining herself alone to these traditional devices, she invents her own methods to introduce curious, realistic figures of common objects,—her grass brush, wooden weaving fork, a stalk of corn, a bow, an arrow, or a plume of feathers from a dancer's mask. Thus, although the same characteristic styles of weaving and decoration are general, yet none of the larger designs are ever reproduced with mechanical exactness; each fabric carries some distinct variation, some suggestion of the occasion of its making, woven into form as the fancy arose."

I have thus quoted from an unpublished manuscript of one of the greatest Navaho authorities of the United States—Mr. A. M. Stephen—in order to confirm my own oft-repeated and sometimes challenged statements that the Navaho weaver finds in nature her designs, and that in most of her better blankets there is woven "some suggestion of the occasion of its making."

This imitative faculty is, par excellence, the controlling force in aboriginal decoration so far as I know the Amerind of the Southwest.

With many of the younger women, submission to the imitative faculty in weaving is becoming an injury instead of a blessing. Instead of looking to nature for their models, or finding pleasure in the religious symbolism of the older weavers, they have sunk into a lazy, apathetic disregard, and they slavishly and carelessly imitate the work of their elders. This is growingly true, I am sorry to say, with both basket makers and blanket weavers. On my recent trips I have come in contact with many fair specimens, both in basketry and blanketry, and when I have asked for an explanation of the design the reply has been: "Me no sabe! I make 'em all same old basket, or all same old Navaho blanket." Here is perversion of the true imitative faculty which sought its pure and original inspiration from nature.

It will not be out of place here to correct a few general misapprehensions in regard to the older and more valuable Navaho blankets. These erroneous ideas are partly the result of the misstatements of an individual who sought thereby to enhance the value of his own collection.

It is true that good bayeta blankets are comparatively rare, but they are far more common than he would have his readers believe. The word "bayeta" is nothing but the simple Spanish for the English baize, and is spelled bayeta, and not "balleta" or "vayeta." It is a bright red baize with a long nap, made especially in England for Spanish trade (not Turkish, as this "expert" claims), and by the Spanish and Mexicans sold to the Indians. Up to as late as 1893 bayeta blankets were being made plentifully. Since then comparatively few have been made. The bayeta was a regular article of commerce, and could be purchased at any good wholesale house in New York. It was generally sold by the rod, and not by the pound. The duty now is so high that its importation is practically prohibited, it being, I believe, about sixty per cent. And yet I am personally acquainted with several weavers who will imitate perfectly, in bayeta, any blanket ever woven, and that the native dyes for other colors will be used. We are told that an Indian woman will not take the time to weave blankets such as were made in the olden time. I have several that took nine, twelve, and thirteen months to make, and if the pay is good enough any weaver will work on a blanket a year, or even two years, if necessary. The length of time makes no difference, as several traders in Indian blankets can vouch. Indeed, it would be quite possible to obtain the perfect reproduction of any blanket in existence, which would be satisfactory to any board of genuine experts, the only differences between the new and the ancient blankets being those inseparable from newness and age.

While bayeta blankets are not common by any means, they aggregate many scores in the mass, and are to be found in many collections, both East and West. It is a difficult matter to even suggest in a photograph or an engraving any idea of the beauty and charm of one of these old Navaho blankets.

An Aged Navaho and her Hogan.

Navaho Family and Hogan in the Painted Desert.

It will be observed that I have written as if the major portion of the weaving of Navaho blankets was done by the women. Dr. Matthews, however, writing in or before 1881, says that "there are ... a few men who practise the textile art, and among them are to be found the best artisans of the tribe." Of these men but one or two are now alive, if any, and I have seen one only who still does the weaving.

In late years a few Navaho weavers have invented a method of weaving a blanket both sides of which are different. The Salish stock of Indians make baskets the designs of which on the inside are different from those on the outside, but this is done by a simple process of imbrication, easy to understand, which affords no key to a solution of the double-faced Navaho blanket. I have purchased two or three such blankets, but as yet have not found a weaver who would show me the process of weaving. Dr. Matthews thinks this new invention cannot date farther back than 1893, as prior to that time Mr. Thomas V. Keam, the oldest trader with the Navahoes, had never seen one. Yet one collector declares he had one as far back as fifteen years ago.

In addition to the products of the vertical loom the Navaho and also the Pueblo women weave a variety of smaller articles of wear, all of which are remarkable for their strength and durability as well as for their striking designs.