Navaho Legends — Edition Insights

Diction and the Fourfold Pattern

The excerpts reveal a consistent structural rhythm built on repetition and incremental intensification. In the emergence story, the hero hears the god's call four times: first faintly, then louder, then more plainly, and finally “loud and clear, as if cried by one standing at the door.” Each time he shakes his grandmother awake; each time she dismisses him until the fourth call compels belief. This fourfold pattern—common in Navaho ceremonialism—governs not only dialogue but also action: the rainbow is turned sunwise, the cup of mush is eaten from but never emptied, and the bundle is examined after the visitor is fed. Matthews's interlinear translations preserve the Navaho phrasing, allowing readers to see how the original language embeds these repetitions. The grandmother's rebuke—“You fool. Shut your mouth and go to sleep”—contrasts sharply with the formal speech of the gods, who speak in commands and gestures.

Voice and Gesture in Dialogue

Dialogue in these legends is spare and functional, often carrying narrative weight through implication rather than explanation. When the hero tells his grandmother “I go with the divine ones, but I shall come back again to see you,” the line serves as both farewell and promise, its simplicity masking the danger of the journey. The gods communicate largely through signs: Hastseyalti makes signs over the curtain, bids the man pull it aside, and later “only nodded his head” in response to the grandmother's plea for her grandchild's return. The niece's pet turkey is taken not by force but by request, and the hero explicitly states he will not take it against her will. These exchanges reveal a social code of consent and respect even in dealings with the divine. Matthews's notes clarify that such gestures—like turning the rainbow sunwise—carry specific ceremonial meanings, grounding the dialogue in ritual practice.

Description of the Sacred and the Mundane

Matthews balances otherworldly events with concrete, domestic details. The gods' dwelling is “a house in the rock” with walls “covered with rock crystal, which gave forth a brilliant light,” yet the visitor is offered food in “a small earthen cup only so big (a circle made by the thumb and index finger joined at the tips).” The miraculous inexhaustibility of the mush and water is described in plain, observational language: “He ate, and ate, and ate, and ate, from the cup and could not empty it.” The grandmother's lodge is sketched with similar precision—the turkey roosts on a tree near the lodge, the bundle of sacrificial objects is carried out, the curtain hangs in the doorway. These details anchor the supernatural in a recognizable material world, a technique that Matthews, as an ethnographer, likely valued for its authenticity. The illustrations of huts, looms, and cradles reinforce this grounding.

The Compiler's Editorial Choices

Matthews's role as compiler is visible in the structure of the volume. The legends are divided into four parts—The Story of the Emergence, Early Events in the Fifth World, The War Gods, and Growth of the Navaho Nation—followed by two additional tales and extensive notes. The excerpts include interlinear translations, where Navaho text appears above English glosses, allowing comparison of syntax and vocabulary. Musical transcriptions of melodies are included, and the frontispiece identifies gods by name and paragraph reference, creating a cross-referenced system between text and illustration. Matthews's introduction and notes (not excerpted here) likely explain his methods of collection and translation. The reader should note that the excerpts represent only a fraction of the 147,896-word text; the full work includes many more legends, songs, and ritual descriptions that may deepen or complicate the patterns observed here.

Readers approaching Navaho Legends should attend to the interplay between Matthews's scholarly apparatus and the oral narratives themselves. The interlinear translations reward slow reading, revealing how Navaho grammar shapes the storytelling. The musical notations and descriptions of dry-paintings offer additional entry points into the ceremonial context. Because the excerpts are limited, the reader is encouraged to compare the fourfold patterns noted here with other episodes in the collection, and to consider how Matthews's editorial voice—present in footnotes and introductions—frames the Navaho material for a late-nineteenth-century audience.

I remember sitting by the fire as a child, listening to elders tell our old stories—spare words, sudden silences—and felt again how Matthews must have held those Navaho songs with care. That same quiet reverence surfaced years later, oddly, in The Aesop for Children With pictures by Milo Winter — Key Ideas to Explore; both books keep a living voice alive, not frozen, but breathing.